#Ishgard Shenanigans

[ubejamjar]

Come now, don't brood. Chin up! Unless you're looking at me of course, then feel free to keep looking down!

[nights-at-crystarium]

Your WoL's invisible and inaudible for a day! How do they choose to spend it? Pull pranks? Spy on someone or sneak in somewhere forbidden? Simply rest?

[starlit-seadragon]

Day 19 - Taken

The Eorzean Alliance is yet young, though it has many allies.

Some of them are a little closer than others expected.

Set early post-SB

WC: 1453

Rated F for fluff?

My FFXIV Write Masterpost here.

Nanamo was the first to notice.

Had she not been seated next to Lord Aymeric, she might have missed the exchange entirely. Though the mountains in which Ala Mhigo were tucked cooled the air significantly, the day was still hot. For their privacy, the doors of the meeting room had been closed, but the windows remained open, curtains billowing lazily in the desperately-needed breeze. Outside the palace, far enough away that they could not hear, people milled about, performing various tasks.

Beside her, Lord Aymeric straightened suddenly and looked away from the conversation. Nanamo fought the urge to stare. She had not considered the present topic to be an offensive one, but perhaps there was a cultural difference with Ishgard that she was not aware of. She had a mind to inquire about it afterwards─and then watched him break into a radiant smile that was gone from his lips a moment latee but remained in his eyes.

Curious, Nanamo followed his line of sight.

Out the window, the Warrior of Light was walking past. When she caught Nanamo's eye, she waved. Nanamo waved a small hand back.

On her other side, Raubahn leaned forward.

"I must apologize, Your Grace, for not being engaging enough company to keep your focus," he teased.

"Your apology is accepted, Raubahn," Namao replied archly. "Pray rest assured you have my full focus─I merely chanced to espy our friend Shirayume through the window and was returning her greeting."

The other Alliance leaders turned in their seats to peer out the window. Now red-cheeked and smiling apologetically, Shirayume waved to them all. The leaders of the Alliance returned the gesture.

"Perhaps a short respite is called for" Kan-E suggested. "We have been in council for an extended period─a little fresh air and movement might do us good."

The group assented, agreeing to return at the next bell. Slowly, they rose, stretching and making small talk. Nanamo remained in her seat. Raubahn stood just behind his.

"Do you mean to remain here, Your Grace?"

"For a time, I think. I'll follow soon, Raubahn. I'd like to walk the garden. Pray take your leave."

"I should be glad to join you, Your Grace, when you do."

Nanamo smiled. "Then I shall meet you there shortly, my friend."

With that, he quit the room. Nanamo sat back in her seat and sighed. Though the long hours could be wearying, to have so many in the Alliance warmed her heart; these meetings gave her far less headache than did those of the Syndicate. With a prolonged yawn, she hopped down from her seat and rubbed her eyes.

Upon opening them, she noticed the Warrior of Light was still outside the window.

As was Lord Aymeric.

Shirayume beamed up at him, and he mirrored the expression as he spoke. She listened attentively, almost enrapt, one arm crossed over to hold the other, tail swaying gently back and forth. He was inclined towards her, bent slightly at the waist, lessening the distance between them. They did not touch as they spoke, but they stood so near to one another that a breeze could have pushed them into each other's arms.

Nanamo blinked, breath caught. She could not remember when she had last seen Shirayume smile so.

Footsteps announced someone's approach.

"Your Grace?" Raubahn asked. "Forgive me if I've disturbed you; I just wanted to see if you were all right."

Evidently, she'd been standing here longer than she thought.

Raubahn approached her, looking to where her attention had been focused. When he caught sight of the pair outside, he inhaled sharply.

Eyes still on them, he asked in a low voice, "Do you think they're...?"

"Without a doubt," Nanamo confirmed, turning her gaze back towards them.

"I must admit to some surprise. I never would have expected such a match."

Nanamo looked up at him. "No? Whyever not?"

Raubahn scratched his chin. "It feels somewhat foolish to say aloud, but given how long Ishgard had been absent from the Alliance, I expected it would take a longer period of time for them to 'warm to us,' so to speak."

Nanamo smiled. "They may still be warming to us, my friend. But I believe it quite apparent that Lord Aymeric has warmed to *her.*"

They did not hear other Alliance leaders approach until Merlwyb spoke behind them, "Well. That certainly explains the Grand Melee."

"Do you suspect it has been going on since then?" Kan-E murmured.

"For such a strong affection? It must have begun well before."

Kan-E nodded, brow pinched. "He seems quite taken with her."

"Can you fault him for it?" Merlwyb asked. "She has a way of disarming shuttered hearts."

"Has he the shuttered heart, or is it Ishgard who possesses it?"

"Well," Lyse drew out the word as she reached the group and joined their observation. Her cheeks widened with her grin. "I see their time apart has done very little to change their feelings for one another."

Nanamo, Raubahn, Merlwyb, and Kan-E all turned to look at her as one. The grin dropped off Lyse's face. A flush spread over her cheeks.

"...I don't suppose you could pretend you didn't hear that."

After a moment, Kan-E touched a hand to her chest. "Did they intend to conceal it indefinitely?"

Lyse huffed out a laugh. "Only from themselves. There's nothing happening between them. At least, I don't think there is. Though... Yume didn't really talk about what happened during their camping trip..."

"Camping trip?" The group echoed, brows raised.

A tense silence followed.

"Oh gods," Lyse muttered. She cleared her throat and raised her hands, fingers splayed in defense. Her eyes darted wildly between them.

"Look, it's really none of our business, is it?"

Merlwyb crossed her arms. "Ordinarily, I would agree. In this case, however, there is somewhat more at stake. The star can ill-afford its champion playing favorites."

Lyse's voice was hard and sharp as a blade. "She wouldn't. You know she wouldn't."

The silence that descended smothered like the heat.

Lyse scoffed. Her hands clenched at her sides "Has she ever given you cause to doubt her before? What of when she was an adventurer based in Gridania? Did she play favorites then?"

The other leaders exchanged a look.

"She did not," Kan-E conceded, slow and even-toned, "but this situation does not quite compare."

Lyse shook her head. "I don't believe this."

"Mistress Hext is right," Nanamo interjected. "We ought to trust in our friends and allies. We are all of us adults. Since Ishgard's rejoining of the Eorzean Alliance, Lord Aymeric has been naught but a staunch ally."

"A little before that, even," Raubahn admitted.

"And that aside," she continued, "Shirayume deserves our confidence in her. As our friend and hero, we owe her the benefit of the doubt."

Kan-E, Raubahn, and Merlwyb looked to the floor. Lyse leaned against the window sill.

"And... just look at her," Lyse said softly.

They did. Aymeric spoke with animation, and in response Yume laughed so heartily that a few other people around them turned to look.

"Even if it doesn't go anywhere..." Lyse said. "The Twelve know there's been enough misery lately... we can afford them a little bit of happiness, can't we? Just a little."

She threw them an imploring look. They acquiesed with tight smiles. Nanamo met Lyse's eyes with open regard.

"We should certainly make an effort to," Nanamo agreed. Lyse returned her smile.

The bell struck then.

All in the meeting room turned towards the open window to find Aymeric and Shirayume, looking back at them with disquiet. Only Lyse had the presence of mind to duck to the side, out of sight.

Their gazes held a moment longer before Shirayume's lips moved inaudibly. Aymeric turned to look at her and then nodded stiffly before walking away. Shirayume turned in the opposite direction. She did not look back to the window.

Moments later, Aymeric reappeared in the meeting room's doorway. His face was a mask of composure, the only sign of his discomfiture the redness in his cheeks.

"Shall we proceed?" he asked calmly as he took his seat. Without another word, he took up a quill and scanned the parchment in front of him.

The other Alliance leaders remained standing, staring at one another.

Finally, in strode Lord Hien, whistling an airy tune. He stopped short as he took in the scene before him.

With a hint of confusion, he spoke, "I... trust all had a pleasant and refreshing recess?"

Nanamo chuckled as she retook her seat. "Some of us more than others, I expect."

Aymeric froze, quill mid-air. Lyse smirked.

"But pray," she said. "Let us return to business."

[picturesofashe]

Can you tell me who I was? Can you tell me who I am?

I've forgotten how to tell, did I ever even know?

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

Friday night bath time~

[the-rogue-mockingjay]

Lady Merethe of House Sofinoy

"Now, why would I get close enough to a dragon for it to rip me apart when I could simply bombard it with spells from a distance? I've never understood that."

The children of House Sofinoy are known for their somewhat unorthodox ways of thinking, and Merethe is no exception. The youngest of the viscountess's daughters, she has no wish to follow the path laid out for her by tradition. Along with her younger brother, Aurélien, she chose a different way to fight for her people- though her weapon of choice (thaumaturgy) is much more acceptable in the eyes of their peers than Aurélien's (machinistry).

Since the end of the Dragonsong War, she's spent much of her time journeying across Coerthas, working as a mercenary and adventurer of sorts, occasionally joined by Aurélien. The two have also been known to aid the Scions and the Warrior of Light when the situation calls for it, most notably during the war for Ala Mhigo and at the Ghimlyt Dark.

Bonus, the burden of being an older sibling:

Why is it that every time someone wishes to speak with Aurélien, Merethe is the one they send to track him down and pry him away from his work for five minutes? Fury help her, if she has to interrupt her research to find him one more godsdamned time-

Stephanivien can only offer his sympathy. Wasn't his turn to babysit ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[howdygravytrain]

i wanted to recreate that skeleton holding guns meme and was like "hollup, gravy wouldn't be tweaking over guns ALONE--" and this was born LMAO

artoirel was happy when gravy first announced that she had taken an interest in becoming a machinist, though little did he know that his sister and his boyfriend would eventually terrorize all of coerthas with their hair-brained designs and bullfuckery

aymeric 100000% supports gravy's shenanigans, much to artoirel's dismay UwU

-------

Panel 2: Artoirel: By the Fury, Ishgard is doomed.

[voidsentprinces]

Mylla: Another word out of your mouth, Aldis and I'll beat you to death. Solkzagyl: Nah, therapy would take too much time. Imma just create an entire gaslighting plot around my death to recreate batman for Ishgard. Wyrnzoen: We get into some mild shenanigans here. Curious Gorge: I could try to look inward and explore my emotions...or I could just keep hitting things. Fray: This is bullshit, this whole thing is bullshit, that's a scam, fuck the church, here's a dark soul crystal. Sophie: Walk, walk, fashion baby. Hamon: It isn't violence against the elderly, if I call it TRAINING and I AM the elderly. Widargelt: Going to have more royal drama than the Sultana. Foulques: Gridania is racist...they will never fix this. But I can! BECAUSE I AM THE BEST LANCER IN THE WOR--OH NO! Estinien: Ishgard is classist...they will never fix this. But I can! BECAUSE I AM THE BEST DRAGOON IN THE WOR--OH NO! Jacke: We can stab people AND stop acts of terrorism. Karasu: Just having a little giggle. Having a bit of a laugh. Master Musosai: DAME DA NE! DAME YO DAME NA NO YO! Drusilla: Grandad was mad that the Emperor trolled him and is now making it everyone's problem. Sylphie: You may not like it but this is what peak conjury looks like. Raya-O-Senna: Hello and welcome! A-Ruhn-Senna: Die in a forest fire. Alka: Is it me or is that tonberry kinda...cute? Leveva: I would say I am sorry for blacking out, beating you and then burying you up to your neck in the middle of Coerthas. But I am not. Jannequinard: It is QUITE fine, my dear Lady Leveva. You did only what the stars asked, as any astrologian worth their salt would do. Aries Rising and all that. Loifa: I could easily explain my motives and backstory but this quest line has to last 8 more levels. Silvairre: Gridania is racist and shall never change its wa--oh no something happened to me personally. I have seen the error of my ways! Sanson: I can still hear his voice. Guydelot: Gay, gay, homosexual, gay, gay Stephanivien: Gonne training requires a steady hand and a leveled head. So I shall send you to someone who will teach you these things. Rostnstahl: ...sorry what? That guy over there has been looking at me for a while. Joye: That's your reflection. Rostnstahl: Oh right...hey you, shoot that guy over there in the ass. Nashmeira: Therapy would take too much time, lets dance for people's enjoyment. Cocobuki: How do you feel about casting Fire I for 50 levels? Shatotto: An arrow may have your name on it. But a fire ball is addressed to whom it may concern. K'lyhia: If my calculations are correct, you are only in this to get God and Anime on your side. Y'mhrita: I hear you know my sister. Well good news, cause we're about to harnass the power of GOD AND ANIME TO OUR SIDE! X'rhun: Yeah, I don't know why people keep running past and yelling, "Would you care to fuck this catman". Martyn: I am helping cure the smallpox by putting on shows to raise awareness. Quickly, VOMIT A FISH AT ME!

[ikarasu]

Some reference sheets for my WoLs 🥰

💠Info💠

🐇~🐇~🐇~🐇~🐇~🐇~🐇~🐇~🐇~🐇~🐇~🐇~🐇~

Selvez | The Ashen Dragoon

Gender: Female

Age: 29

Eye Color: Green

Hair Color: Dark Blue

Highlights: Black

Race: Rava

Sexuality: Bisexual

Your average wine lover who doesn’t get paid enough to deal with your average Scion shenanigans. She and Estinien have a weird relationship with Estinien where they act like a married couple while denying having any relationship.

🛡️~🛡️~🛡️~🛡️~🛡️~🛡️~🛡️~🛡️~🛡️~🛡️~🛡️~🛡️~🛡️~

Mikaga | of the Broken Shield

Gender: Male

Age: 25

Eye Color: Green

Hair Color: Dark Blue

Highlights: Cool Gray

Race: Rava

Sexuality: Gay

Dating: Rovin

He’s a traveling vagabond looking to help those in need while keeping track of his sister, Selvez. He was a hermit until meeting his boyfriend, Rovin. Now he tends to stay around his boyfriend to make sure he doesn’t get into too much trouble.

🦋~🦋~🦋~🦋~🦋~🦋~🦋~🦋~🦋~🦋~🦋~🦋~🦋~

Elnoix | Shield of the Fae

Gender: Male

Age: 33

Eye Color: Teal

Hair Color: Black

Race: Wildwood

Sexuality: Bisexual

Dating/Married: Kazumi

Grown up all of his life in Ishgard and trained as a temple knight alongside Ser Aymeric and Estinien before going separate ways. He finally decides to travel alongside with his partner, Kazumi. Nowadays he looks forward to an early retirement in Tural.

👁️~👁️~👁️~👁️~👁️~👁️~👁️~👁️~👁️~👁️~👁️~👁️~

Ranault | The Shadowtwin

Gender: Male

Age: 26

Eye Color: Cool Gray

Hair Color: Blonde

Highlights: Platinum Blonde

Race: Duskwood

Sexuality: Closeted Pansexual

Dating???: Celeste

He left Ishgard before the calamity and studied the ways of the black mage. He has a twin brother named Adelard who was formerly in the Heavensward. Known for his snappy and snarky attitude most people aren’t a fan of him….

[robynostornwyn]

Robyn Ostornwyn

Warrior of Light. Bulwark between worlds. Wandering vanguard.

There is nothing more important to her than protecting her family. She spent her childhood looking after her adopted siblings, Elio and Osk. They were separated during the calamity, hoping the others were alive but fearing the worst. Failing her duty, Robyn dedicated the rest of her life to protecting others in an attempt to atone for her failure. She learned the way of the Free Paladin, and stumbled her way into working with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. The rest, as they say, is history.

Falling in love with Y'shtola was unexpected, embracing the twins as her own siblings less so. Slowly her family grew and became her anchor and her strength. A wound sustained from a battle with a certain scythe wielder weakened her shield arm, so she has taken up the gunblade instead. Anything to keep moving forward unto the next dawn.

Elio found his way to Ala Mhigo, walking the path of the monk with Widargelt and helping him revive the Fist of Rhalgr. He joins the Ala Mhigan resistance, fighting on the outskirts where speed and agility are most needed. During a battle, he found himself fighting alongside a certain dragoon who seemingly wondered into the fray. A fast partnership formed between the two, and they were often deployed together on strike missions. And of course, their partnership quickly evolved into something far more romantic.

When Elio and Estinien found Robyn passed out on the battle field (due to crystal exarch related shenanigans), they both spirited her back to Ishgard for healing and a long overdue and very teary reunion. Elio stays by Estinien's side helping out the scions and all that entails through the final days and beyond.

When Osk was found to have a natural talent with white magic at a very young age, her older siblings did everything they could to allow her to learn and grow that talent. She was the only one of them to get any sort of formal schooling, and understood the sacrifice that was made to give her the opportunity.

After the calamity, she apprenticed under a chirurgeon, seeking to augment her magical ability with what healing science she could. Staying in and around the Twelveswood, she worked in hospital camps wherever needed - supporting though the war with Garlemald and the final days.

One day, a passing traveler seeking a nights refuge in their camp shared stories about the Champion of Eorzea. Of course stories of the fabled hero were popular tales, and often wildly exaggerated, but this traveler actually had a name for the hero of the tales - Robyn Ostornwyn.

Finally, years later, the siblings were reunited. Their hearts full, the pain and hardship they endured never forgotten but worth it to get where they are. Ready for their next adventure.

Forward unto Dawn.

---------------------------------------------------------

Hey, I'm E - and this is my blog dedicated to FFXIV, my OCs, and other works that inspire me. I've only recently started to get into modding and gpose, and am continuing learning as I go. Hope you enjoy!

OC tag

[likemosaic]

⭐ hi. all of them, obviously

send a " ⭐ " and i will list muses i would be interested in throwing at yours. / @glacierfront

yeah bench all of them, you know i'm gonna say all of them!!!! i'm gonna do julie and your ffxivs for spice.

FFXIV SPECIFIC:

hythlodaeus & ancient siobhan <3 bard friends?

minfilia & ryne for shard fuckery

modern chiyo and julie because julie's blood relation to tony stark, chiyo working with the modern version of the scions and their philanthropy...could be cute and cringefail

chiyo giving ryne big forehead stepmom kiss. and also mentoring her on the first and teaching her to do girl things and why boys are evil, yes including your father, he's a whor-

carmilla & aymeric navigating ishgard's fucked up politics. in a distinctly gay way. signed, carm the lesbian

really any of your ffxiv characters i would smooch <3 and any of mine are yours, just some spitballing ideas!

GENERAL:

let hermes torment julie in a very fourth wall breaky way. move over odysseus

i'll happily pull ozpin out of his setting (where he essentially teaches a school for kids with superpowers) for something with julie and her powers. an au or her main verse, maybe a personal tutor helping her control them? possibly paid for by tony? just spitballing

julie moves to stardew valley and meets fen the mermaid as well as krobus the shadowfriend. shenanigans and more mermaid annoyance ensues.

[housedeaubemarle]

The Grand Hunt - Part 1: The Call

Follows after 'A House Call' but without any direct connection.

Part 2: The Tracking

Part 3: The Hunt

Part 4: The Trophy

(written, as always, with the inimitable and ever patient @escherstrange-ffxiv who has been nothing but hospitable in allowing me to use her boys for FFXIV-Regency-with-a-side-of-Downton-Abbey-related shenanigans; I am much obliged)

tw: harassment, stalking, assault, blood

~*~

It has been about a month since the grand ball of Maintigny, a much-talked-of event in which joyous merrymaking and - because this is Ishgard - gleeful scandalising had taken place. Ishgardian highborn society still reflects on that starry night with fascination if not delight, much to Lady Oisinne de Maintigny’s satisfaction. Even certain members of the High Houses have been heard to still bring that night into conversation. 

That was then. Now, it is a calm early morning in late spring, and among the correspondence delivered (with increasing regularity) to House de Losstarot is a faintly-scented notecard, bordered with handsome filigree. Directly in the centre of the card is one handwritten sentence in (perhaps vexingly) familiar cursive script and brown ink. 

‘The Dowager Viscountess Philomene de Aubemarle kindly requests the pleasure of the Lords Joshua de Losstarot and Isillud de Losstarot’s company at her home, this day at 11 o’clock.’   

There is no instruction on what to do if they are unable to give her ladyship the pleasure of their company. 

~*~

"I swear to the Twelve if it's another social…"

Isillud reads and rereads the card. "To call someone so early and at such short notice for just a social call is most unlike the dowager."

"You think it's something else?"

He pockets the card. "She has done much for us; the least we can do is be prompt."

As if on cue, the carriage stops in front of House Aubemarle, with the crow perched on Isillud's shoulder helpfully cawing to inform the siblings. Joshua shields his eyes from the glare of the morning sun while Isillud gives three solid knocks on the door.

30 seconds later, ever reliably, Marceaux stands in the doorway. Not a single eyelash bats at the appearance of the dark bird on Isillud’s shoulder.

“Good morning, my lords. My lady will receive you in her drawing room. This way please.”

He guides them to said room, different from the cream confection they’d been received in on their first visit. This one is decorated in shades of pale dusky rose and pastel pink; nothing loud or garish, but it gives the impression of more warmth than the previous drawing room. Such warmth is augmented by a low fire burning in the hearth. And there, on another sofa before yet another full tea service on a similar low table, sits the Dowager Viscountess. She’s been staring into the fire, hands folded in her lap, when Marceaux announces “Lord Joshua de Losstarot and Lord Isillud de Losstarot” as he opens the door.

She turns her head, but does not rise since she is the elder relative. The woman sitting beside her, a Duskwight with sandy brown hair tied in a bun, does stand however, in order to give a respectful curtsey to the gentlemen. She appears older than the Losstarots, but bears no resemblance to the Dowager.

“Good morning, my lords. Your punctuality is commendable indeed. Please have a seat.” There is a brief pause when she notices the crow. Then she turns to her companion, bids the lady bend closer so that she may whisper something right in her ear.

“At once, milady,” replies the woman, and disappears quickly from the room, closing the door behind her. 

Meanwhile, the Dowager herself sits forward, and begins pouring a milky beverage into the porcelain cups. It is Ishgardian tea this time, it appears.

“I am sure the invitation was an inconvenient surprise, and you have my apologies. It is frankly barbaric to send a card at seven o’ clock and expect one’s guests four hours later on the same day."

All of them step forward to take their seats, with Joshua saying, "Not at all, Viscountess. It is our pleasure to serve after the kindness you have shown us since we first met."

"Even so, I shall be direct in order to make up for such discourteous manners.”

She finishes pouring and looks up at them. 

“I would like you to hunt down some people and enact justice on behalf of House de Aubemarle.”

Joshua's gracious smile changes to confusion at the Dowager's request. The crow tilts its beady eyes curiously at the Dowager though Isillud is the least affected of the trio.

"Like vigilantes?"

The Dowager tsks. ”Not quite vigilantes, my lord. I do not wish you to make a career out of it. But time is of the essence, and I find myself in need of some resourceful young men.”

She sits back against the sofa with her cup, but doesn’t lean into the cushions. Her posture is as straight as ever.

“Last evening, just after sundown I was told, two of our housemaids were returning from running errands at the Crozier, when some men accosted them. Those brutes made them the typical perverse propositions their kind always does, and when our maids tried to flee the situation, they were grabbed and manhandled into an alley.”

The calm on her face gradually gives way to stiff anger, as she continues. 

“It is surely by the mercy of the Fury that they successfully fought off these assailants before anything worse occurred, although not without some cost. They arrived home, both terrified, one wounded. It was not without effort to even discover from them the series of events I have just told you. Such is their condition that they cannot recollect anything that may help us conclusively identify these savages. Suspicions are all we have.”

The Dowager’s grip on her teacup tightens as her anger mounts.

“Ishgard is no city for the faint hearted. It has its myriad dangers. However, no one who wears the uniform of House Aubemarle has ever had to fear for their safety or dignity, from the Pillars to the Foundation. Someone has dared to touch our people. Something must be done.”

Joshua taps his chin, eyebrows knit as the cogs turn in his head. "Possibly the first time, or they aren't the only victims… Viscountess, do you know if your servants were the first attack in the Crozier? Have there been other noble houses who have this same issue?"

“To my knowledge, we have the misfortune to be the one and only occurrence. None of my circles have mentioned such violence in any capacity. And I would have heard if there had been such incidents.” She shakes her head. “Most of our concerns for safety involve idiots duelling each other over petty concerns, and the occasional, deluded individual who imagines their thievery will go undiscovered.”

The door of the room opens quietly, admitting the woman who had left earlier. She sets a small bowl of blackberries on the table.

The Dowager glances over, then gestures at it. “For your bird, if it should care for it, Lord Isillud.”

She continues, addressing the woman who's resumed her seat beside the Dowager. “Nisette, what were the girls doing in the Crozier?”

“They had been to the locksmith, milady. Mr Ofanleitasyn had ordered a new lock and key for the back kitchen door. There was a message sent in the late afternoon to say it was ready.” Nisette herself presses her lips together in some distress, and hesitates. It is only when the Dowager nods that she continues. 

“The others wouldn't have let Rewelle go in the first place, as no one was available to accompany her. But Rewelle insisted. She even roused Yisa earlier than usual to go with her.” 

The Dowager’s frown is disapproving, but she doesn't say anything. She turns back to her guests.

“My lords, there is a reason I do not believe this is any mere attempt at a robbery. As I said earlier, thieves who try to rob a noble house, much less servants who were not carrying anything particularly valuable, are deluded fools.

“No, this involves Rewelle, and thus suspicions, regrettably, must fall on Lord Ajax Gaussain.”

Isillud nods to his crow. "Go on, Will. Don't forget to thank the Viscountess for her hospitality." The crow glides to the bowl, cawing and bowing its head before helping itself.

Joshua has a look of distaste when he hears the name. "You think Lord Ajax fancies your servant and this is his way of intimidating her?"

The Dowager’s lip twitches slightly upwards at Joshua’s unhidden reaction. “Your brevity, Lord Joshua, is admirable though I find ‘fancy’ too agreeable a word for what is at play here.”

She lets out a breath, as if bracing herself for her own elaboration.

“He first caught sight of Rewelle late last year when he accompanied his mother here on a visit. I was preoccupied with my recovery, and so for ten days, my servants had to endure the foolish amount of bouquets and trinkets he sent to the manor’s back door in an attempt to woo her. All those ‘tributes’ were disposed of as soon as they were discovered. When a necklace arrived, they felt compelled to inform me and my daughter, despite my condition. I made Oudine bide her time while I wrote to Lady Amitte regarding the inappropriacy of her son’s behaviour. The necklace was also returned.”

(Beside her, Nisette nods silently as she keeps her head down, focusing on some stitching she has produced.)

“That woman,” says the Dowager with sharp disgust, “had the gall to say, ‘respectfully’, that her son would not ever pursue a lowborn woman, and perhaps, I had let my illness cloud my judgement. Nonetheless, as a ‘favour’ to myself and the name of Aubemarle, she would let it be known to her family, and request her son to inform his own… associates, that we would not countenance the harassment of our servants. She even sent that ridiculous necklace back. Our outrage at seeing it in this house again, I will not describe.”

The short silence which follows is filled in only by the sound of the crow’s beak clinking gently against the bowl as it picks up berries.

“For a time, it seemed Lady Amitte’s motherly advice worked. Nothing more darkened our back door, and we ensured no Gaussain ever entered our home again, no matter how many calling cards they left. Then, the shadowing began.” The Dowager takes a sip of her tea, more to calm herself than out of thirst. “Rewelle would go out into the city, and distinctly feel herself being watched. The girl thought it her own imagination, and so kept it to herself.

“Until the day he directly approached her in the Crozier.” The Dowager’s lip curls in a sneer. “I will not repeat the odious promises and reassurances he poured into her ear. Being one of her status, Rewelle could not safely deny his attention and was forced to have his company all the way to our back door.

“Mr Ofanleitasyn witnessed Lord Ajax leaving after Rewelle ran into the kitchen, frightened and upset. He himself asked to see my daughter at once and reported the entire incident.”

(Nisette has been silently glaring at her thread for a few minutes, as if the sewing had insulted her entire family line.)

“The servants were instructed not to let Rewelle run errands if possible, and if she had to, one other person was to be with her at all times. For her part, Oudine went to speak directly to Lord Tramault.”

The Dowager puts the cup down on her lap, and looks the Losstarots in the eye. She had already been angry from the moment she began her story.

The calmness of her tone doesn't match the fury burning in her dark brown eyes.

“‘Sending a lowborn woman little presents and walking her home is no crime’ was the answer given.”

Joshua looks at Isillud; the older brother notices the stare and instead turns to pet his crow, smoothing out the feathers with his fingers. 

"Indeed it is no crime, but," Joshua rises and paces the floor. "It is the inability to bow out like a gentleman after rejection that makes it twice as rude."

"She's just a conquest," Isillud adds. "Being the youngest just means he still has his mother's petticoats to cower under." A tiny smile curls at the corner of his mouth.

Joshua sticks his hands in his pockets, scowling at Isillud. "Some people just have all the luck," he mutters darkly. "That makes retribution more satisfying." 

"But all you have right now are suspicions." The bright emerald eyes of the older Losstarot look to the Dowager. "Please allow me to speak to Rewelle and her companion, Viscountess. Even if it's hired thugs, it'll be a start."

The Dowager stiffens visibly. “‘Just a conquest’ indeed. You know, your house currently possesses a most noble motto, 'May the Rood ever flourish', but perhaps ‘en toutes choses, brièveté’ would be more appropriate.”

Joshua is amused by the motto enough to grin, despite the Dowager's expression. "It would be ungracious to beat around the bush when you have spoken plain, Viscountess."

She gives him a look, then eyes Isillud warningly. “I shall not have one of this house be hunted, physically or verbally. Aubemarle has always taken care of those in our protection. I must ask for delicacy in your inquiries.”

Isillud remains serious. "If all goes to plan, she need not utter a word. I'll speak to them in your presence if it will allay your doubts." Joshua nods along with a smile that says, ‘He knows what he's doing.’

The older lady looks at each brother in turn, as if to appraise their intentions, then shakes her head. “Have a care, my lord. Such a promise, in the presence of others, will only inflame the rumours of your family's abilities.” 

The Dowager stretches her hand towards her attendant, who instantly puts away her stitching and places the Hornbill walking stick into her mistress’ hand. She gets up, prompting everyone else to stand.

“I will have them brought here. When your interview is concluded, have the goodness to stay a little longer - there are other things you ought to be apprised of before you begin any kind of search.”

Nisette curtsies, both Losstarots bow, the Dowager leaves. Only the gentle crackling of the fire, and the soft clicks of a crow’s beak fill the air upon her exit.

As soon as they are left alone Joshua flails. "Really? Here? And you call me reckless, Izzy, they're maids, the gossip will reach Ajax within two bells, no longer, and we'll lose the lead."

Isillud stares evenly at his brother. "And what was your plan?"

He hems and sputters back, "I-I don't know, use Rewelle to lure him out, make a rumour you're marrying her?"

"Ajax Gaussain has been telling every willing ear that I have bedded every man on the star, and you think he'll believe that?"

"He's not wrong!"

Isillud sticks a finger up at Joshua, "Not true, Marceaux still has his virtue intact."

"...Eventually!"

The crow caws, flapping its wings and making a clawing motion with its feet. Both brothers shout, "No!" in unison at it. 

Joshua scratches his head, "Whoever's doing this, we must lure them out of Ishgard first, there are too many eyes and wagging tongues to be subtle."

Isillud takes the liberty to settle in on the couch, sarcasm plain on his face, "I'll try."

~*~

The brothers wait - suggesting, disagreeing, re-suggesting, disagreeing again - for quite some time, before there is a polite knock on the door.

In a way, the young lords are to be pitied when expecting only two people, seven individuals instead pour through the doorway, practically filling the room. From the group, three of them come forward: two Wildwood Elezens - one wears a maid’s uniform, while the other has on a dark green gown, a chatelaine jingling softly with its accoutrements as she moves - and one Keeper Miqo’te, dwarfed by everyone in the room. 

Despite the vast difference in height, it is the Elezen maid who clings to the tiny Miqo’te girl, hand never leaving the latter’s shoulder. Her long, lustrous jet-black hair is tied back neatly, leaving two thin bangs to frame her lovely - worried - face. Her eyes are dark, with thick black lashes; below them are a shapely nose and rosy lips upon a fair, smooth complexion. If she had been highborn, the entirety of Ishgard would have fallen over themselves in their efforts to win even just a smile from her. This could not be any other than the Rewelle spoken of earlier.

Her support, Yisa, is a sight once never seen in the city, but now becoming ever so slightly more common. The first thing one is drawn to are her large, luminous eyes, their irises white like the full moon. They are well matched by her white hair, woven with faint pink-purple highlights, and two sharp furry ears that point upwards. A small braid hangs on each side of her blue-grey face. Thick white bandages are wrapped around her tiny forearms, going up past the puffy sleeves of her uniform; above her collar peeks the corner of another bandage.

The Elezen in the green gown, with honey-gold hair and pale green eyes, curtsies deeply. The retinue behind her, consisting of one Hyur woman, another Hyur man and two more Duskwight men follow suit with their silent greetings. All of them look grimly determined.

When she raises her head, the green-gowned one has a distressed expression despite her polite greetings. “Good afternoon, milords. I am Mrs Marinterre, the housekeeper. I was instructed to bring you Rewelle and Yisa.”

(Rewelle’s grip tightens. Yisa reaches up to her shoulder to pat her friend’s hand.)

“I do beg milords’ pardon for the intrusion of my other colleagues,” says Mrs Marinterre. “They are… very much concerned for Rewelle and Yisa. My lady, the Dowager Viscountess, has suggested that perhaps you might be able to put their fears to rest.”

(The Hyur footman at the back, with dark brown hair and black eyes, looks particularly unconvinced.) 

It is not done for servants to question their betters like this. In any other circumstance, this would be unheard of in such a tightly-run ship as the Aubemarle house. It would seem that they have been given special dispensation by the Dowager herself. Tellingly, Marceaux is absent - he had no say in any of this. Allay their doubts as well, not just mine, the Dowager is saying.

In the Losstarots’ case, they hadn’t known what to expect, but it certainly is not this. Isillud's eyes widen, his jaw slacks as he takes in the features of each and every servant. Joshua's mouth opens but no sound comes out, making him look like a goldfish with each false start. "Uhh…" 

But Isillud has not spent the last 5 years wandering the world in vain; he may still be adjusting to the inner workings of Ishgard's high society but he knows people, and people always need something to believe in.

You wish to make a show of this? So be it.

The painfully thin Elezen exhales, back straight, legs crossed. "Before I begin, I simply ask my captive audience that what will soon transpire does not leave the room." He puts a finger to his lips. "Ishgard is never ready for some secrets." Once he has the room's (silent, doubtful, confused) consensus, he removes his gloves with his teeth, because he knows he's absurdly beautiful when he does it. 

Joshua cringes at the scene, covering his face with his eyes while facing the door. He mentally calculates how long it will take the room to realise his disappearance; before he even begins the crow perches on his shoulder, claws digging through his jacket.

If Izzy stays, so do you, it says.

Isillud extends his hand to the crowd: a slender hand but with its fair share of cuts and creases, the sign of a life that hasn't been without its obstacles yet soft and graceful as a noble's hand should. He slowly sweeps his hand across the servants.

It stops in front of Yisa, not Rewelle.

"Perhaps, Miss Yisa, if you went first, you could assure Miss Rewelle of my intentions?" He drops his voice, soft and low as if he was coaxing a man to his bed. "You only need to hold my hand."

~*~

Tiny Yisa looks up at the very tall noble with his hand outstretched towards her. Well, all of them are tall, noble or not. But he seems taller, and from the way his green eyes glow (not even a Keeper’s eyes glow like that), and his voice calls like a turtledove to its mate… more curious than any other Ishgardian she’s met.

Her large eyes take him in, disconcertingly direct. Ishgardian servants don't look their masters so rudely in the face. But what she sees makes her blink slowly, consideringly. An ear flicks.

Then she turns from Isillud to look up at Mrs Marinterre and the rest of the staff. “He will help. There will be more danger if you all stay.”

“Yisa…” says the Hyur woman at the back, brow wrinkling in deep concern. 

The Miqo'te nods encouragingly. “Go. It will be fine.”

Mrs Marinterre looks at her thoughtfully, then at Rewelle. The black haired maid draws in a deep breath. “Please,” she says softly.

The housekeeper nods decisively, then curtsies towards the Losstarots. She turns around and begins gently shooing everyone out.

“But-!” 

“Come on, Lamb,” says one of the Elezen footmen, pushing his Hyur friend to the door. He stops to glance at the scene before him, the light gleaming on his glasses, before sweeping his still-protesting colleague out. Mrs Marinterre closes the door firmly.

In the much emptier room, Yisa looks back at Isillud. “I do not know your secrets, my lord, but I think you should love them better. Do you still wish me to go first?”

Neither brother knows what to say at this Keeper's ability to clear the room, in spite of the Dowager’s permissions, to boot.

Though Joshua looks at his brother for guidance, Isillud simply looks at the young woman in front of him, taken aback by her kindness. His hand falters as he says, "...thank you." Yet he still extends it to her. "Only if you wish it, otherwise it's best to proceed to Rewelle's."

Yisa nods, then very gently takes Rewelle’s hand from her shoulder. She squeezes it reassuringly.

“I am still here. I am well,” she says. “Be brave. Tell him what happened.”

Rewelle takes in yet another deep breath, then releases it. “Alright.”

Like an officiant at a wedding, Yisa softly places Rewelle’s hand into Isillud’s, then rests her own atop her friend’s. After an instant, she removes it. 

“I woke Yisa up earlier than she needed to,” begins the maid hesitantly. “I wanted her to go with me to the locksmith’s since everyone else was so busy. With my lady Viscount out of the city, we wanted to make the house ready for her return. The others didn’t wish me to go, but…” 

Rewelle’s worried brow now takes on a defiant turn. The delicate air of her previous expression disappears. “I didn’t want to be some… some bird in a cage. I didn’t want his lordship to win. So I insisted I go. Yisa was very kind to agree to come. Lamb kept arguing with me, kept saying to leave it to the next morning, but I wouldn’t listen.

“We got to the locksmith’s well enough. I even taught Yisa one of our children’s rhymes on the way. We said hello, and collected Mr Ofanleitasyn’s parcel. It was a small thing - just a lock and a key, wrapped in paper - so I slipped it into my pocket. The sun was going down, I remember.

“Then…” She pauses, swallows, continues. “Then, halfway on our walk back, Yisa said she could feel something strange.” Rewelle glances at the Miqo’te who nods solemnly, eyes still bright and gleaming. “She gets these… notions, when things aren’t right. When someone doesn’t mean well. So I said, hold my hand, and we’ll walk as quick as we can.

“Then two men. Two Elezens because they were too tall to be anything else. They stepped out right in front of us, blocking our way. Said… said nasty things about us.” Rewelle’s hand begins to tremble as her breathing picks up. “I told them to leave us alone, that we were from the Aubemarle house. They laughed. They laughed. Said that we could have been from Durendaire and it wouldn’t have mattered one whit.

“Then one of them said they knew the Viscount was away. That the old lady Aubemarle was just… was just…” She instinctively grips Isillud’s hand tighter, to try and stop shaking. Tears of anger pool in her eyes. “Was an old baggage with no power to protect us.”

Yisa reaches out to take her other hand, holding it tightly.

Rewelle, a little bolstered now, exhales. She continues. “Yisa told me there was another one of them behind us. So I told them they were rotten scum and their mothers would die of shame if they smelled their stench, and while they laughed, I threw the parcel at one of their heads.”

A very small, grim smile peeks out - the first time she’s done so since she entered the room. “I think I managed to get one of them, because one said something about their ‘bleedin’ eye’. While they did that, we ran sideways. I felt the one at the back lunge for us but we were too quick. At least… for a moment, we were too quick.”

The smile vanishes. “They grabbed us from behind. Called us all sorts of names. Dragged us into an alley… there was… a knife. Maybe two. They pointed it at us, said that if we didn’t want to be cut to ribbons and thrown out of the city into the abyss, we’d come along quiet-like.

“The knife frightened me. Greatly. I couldn’t move when I saw the blade. So I just kept quiet and nodded. But Yisa…” She looks at her friend, and tears roll down her cheeks. She sniffles, trying to breathe through the memory, but keeps going. 

“She leapt right at them, my lord. Like some sort of fearsome beast, screeching and yowling. She’s so small but so lightning fast, they couldn’t get at her properly. I don’t know how she did it, but she got all three men. She got them so fast in the dark.

“Yisa was the one who dragged me out. Told me to run and not stop. And we did. We ran all the way to the back door. I didn’t know…” Rewelle shakes her head. “I didn’t know Yisa had been so hurt until we reached home, and I saw all her blood on the floor.”

Rewelle stops; she raises her head to look up at Isillud, wordlessly pleading for him to say it is enough.

~*~

Isillud's eyes are shut tight, losing himself in the depths of her memory. Her narration fades into background noise as he retraces Rewelle's footsteps around Ishgard, looking up at the men who accosted them. 

A ruby clasp in one ear, too luxurious for a thug. 

He stares at the blade through her eyes, pointed at her neck: Small enough to be missed when one's frozen in fear yet large enough to show off. 

Show the mark to Joshua, he has an eye for brands. 

The thugs themselves have faces far too common in Ishgard, right down to the eye colour, but the clasp is as good a clue as any. His head bows lower as the memory goes on, fingers slowly wrapping around Rewelle's hand. 

Watch, don't look away as Ishgard did when your house fell.

The pool of blood jolts Isillud; he pulls away as if her touch is fire, his breath hitches from the rough return to reality and his eyes snap open at Rewelle's tear-streaked face silently pleading  to him. He looks at his bare hand, then slowly to her. It is hard to smile, not after what he has seen; he simply bows from his seat till his forehead touches his knees. "Thank you Miss Rewelle, you have been extremely helpful." He nods to Yisa, a silent cue that he's done.

Joshua - leaning against the couch the entire time - looks expectantly at Isillud. "There are things I'll need to show you when we get home," Isillud says, "I think you'll be able to recognize some if not all of them."

Rewelle, very surprised by the reaction but relieved that whatever strange thing the milord had been doing is over, steps back. She would have fallen if not for the steady hand of Yisa, who is staring at the lord, bent over double on the sofa. The other highborn, the younger one, seems at a loss for what to do himself apart from respond to his brother in the affirmative.

She looks back at Rewelle. “Are you alright?”

The Elezen hasn’t stopped shivering, but still answers, “Y, yes. I’m… fine. I will be.”

“Good. You will be.” Yisa pats her hand reassuringly and finally lets go. “Please will you go and find Mrs Marinterre? Tell her milord is finished here.” 

“Yisa?”

The Miqo’te smiles at last. “I will join you very shortly.” 

Rewelle nods. She curtsies to both the lords, murmurs a thank you and a good afternoon, and leaves quietly.

Yisa watches her go, then kneels in front of Isillud. The noble’s breathing is laboured, and she can see that he shakes. 

So in her calm, even voice, she asks very gently, like someone trying to lead an injured animal out from wherever it has curled itself up in: “Milord, I know this is not done in Ishgard. But I am not Ishgardian. Would you let me ask Menphina for her blessing for your trials?” 

Isillud busies himself by putting on his gloves, clasping his hands together in an effort to stop the shaking. He ponders over Yisa's offer, looking over her features for… what, he does not know. Her offer is plain yet he knows many would politely decline for the Fury's blessing is more than sufficient. Men have triumphed over dragons with it alone, after all.

And yet he remembers when he knew the Fury was no longer enough.

He smiles gently, nodding once. "That is very kind of you, thank you."

Yisa stands, raises one small hand as if in benediction. She shuts her own eyes now, and begins to murmur. 

It is not in Common nor Ishgardian, but something else entirely - the sounds wash over each other, syllable upon syllable brushing each other gently, like the susurration of long grass swept by wind under the pale light of a full moon. It is calming, and soft, and somehow, strangely cooling, even in the warm drawing room.

There may, or may not, be a faint, thin layer of frost surrounding Joshua, Will and Isillud as Yisa prays. It disappears as soon as one blinks.

The blessing is not long. She ends with ‘Menphina’, then reopens her eyes. Their luminosity seems to have increased as she smiles. “You too are kind, milord, to accept a servant’s small prayer, and not to Halone the Fury at that.”

“The Fury is one of the Twelve. She would not begrudge a prayer from her kin.” It is curious how the chill in his hands is not like the Ishgardian cold, but a soothing breeze to calm his heart.

A touch of approval appears in Yisa's expression. “Menphina the Lover sees fit to bless you, for you love. Too hard sometimes, She says, but you love, all the same.” She steps back, and curtsies. “Thank you both, milords. May your hunt be courageous, your prey worthy.”

"Thank you," Isillud says quietly as she leaves, her white tail brushing the door before it closes.

The crow appears to examine itself, poking its head beneath its wings and waddling in a circle shaking imaginary frost off its tail. Joshua, however, experiences none of it, instead his mind drifts to Zeir. Is she well? Has she returned to the Shroud?  He bites his lower lip. Will I ever have the chance to make up for what I did?

"Joshua."

The boy snaps back to reality. Isillud straightens his coat, standing by his side. "Let us say our farewells to the Dowager and be on our way. We have tough work ahead."

~*~

Against expectation, the lords Losstarot needn’t leave the room to find her ladyship. The Dowager herself comes in not long after Yisa’s departure - no doubt informed by the able Mrs Marinterre that the lords have completed their questioning - and unlike earlier, quite alone. Her walking stick is an able assistant as she moves into the room, quicker than people usually imagine. 

She takes her place in a chair this time, holding onto her cane. There is no preamble whatsoever, no reference to, much less apology for, the peculiar ill-discipline of her staff, and absolutely, no mention of Yisa’s oddness.

“So gentlemen, do you believe the noble name of Gaussain has been dragged into this sordid affair, or is it merely the ramblings of an old woman?”

"There seem to be clues pointing to it - a ruby earring and a blade. For a thug to brazenly wear a ruby in Ishgard knowing the implications means they must know the Gaussains in some form," Isillud explains. "Do you know if they have any such associations, or employ a certain group of people?"

Despite herself, and the fact that the young lord has brought up rubies - something the Gaussains have worked for years to be associated with - the Dowager raises an eyebrow. “You flatter me by thinking one of my age would be privy to the activities and agendas of men three times younger than myself.”

Seeing Joshua begin to open his mouth, she waves a dismissive hand - a little jest, in the only way the Dowager knows how.  

She looks away to stare at the fire, consulting memories of conversations and gossip that might be of use. 

At last, she says. “I have only little pieces of knowledge, my lord. I beg your indulgence if these are irrelevant to your efforts.

“First: House Gaussain, you may know, trades in bladed and edged weapons, but I do not place confidence in that regard. Their reach is long established, and far - most in the Pillars, and perhaps even the Brume, could have a Gaussain dagger. I have heard they were recently trying to reach some form of understanding with House Haillenarte regarding firearms, but that might be unimportant. 

“Second: among Lord Tramault’s favourite subjects is his family’s rubies. Oudine had been at a meeting once where he claimed their exclusivity and rarity were unmatched in this city. That their quality and cut could only be found in a place that knew gemstones just as Ishgard knew ice and snow.” Her voice flattens when she adds, “Lord Tramault’s love of the irritatingly dramatic is second only to his love of deriding Ishgard.”

She huffs, then continues. “And third: Lady Hailleone was lamenting how her younger grandsons had been frequenting a most unsuitable establishment. It was not enough that the place exposed her darlings to unsavoury dealings, but to be situated within sight of St Reymanaud's Cathedral was practically blasphemy.”

The Dowager looks up at them expectantly. “Those grandsons of hers are frequently seen in Lord Ajax's company. I shouldn't doubt that two noblemen of your stature will be able to locate the place, and persuade people to talk.”

Then her brows furrow in an actual confused expression. “Thugs wearing rubies in the Pillars? How stupid could they be?”

Joshua files the information in his head for further use, especially of House Gaussain's arms dealings. "The lure of luxury is often irresistible, Viscountess. Give a man or woman a free bauble and if it matches their eyes they'll wear it for life." He snorts derisively at his own opinion, one seemingly learned from experience. “Also, why does Lord Tramault still stay in Ishgard if he hates it so much? A man of his wealth could easily settle well in Ul'dah."

Isillud's ears have perked at the mention of grandsons. "An unsuitable establishment, you say? Tell me more."

While Joshua rolls his eyes, the Dowager holds back a remark - not a thing she's accustomed to, so it annoys her somewhat - about how Isillud seems rather too eager to keep the rumours regarding him much too alive. They are here to do her a favour, and what is more, have clearly accomplished more in one hour than she could have done in a day. So she should at least try to be as helpful as she can bring herself to be.

She replies to Joshua instead. “Spoken like one older than his years.” She shifts her weight, leaning a little bit more on her cane. “There has been a House Gaussain in Ishgard for as long as memory holds. I can only assume that for all his contempt, the respect and regard given to a house that has withstood so much is still an incentive to stay.”

Then she eyes Isillud, whose own green eyes have sparked a little more awake, still inexplicably waiting for her to come back to his question. 

“Young man, I have a feeling you can tell me far more about unsuitability. I ask you to remember your health at the very least. I do not know where this place is; perhaps one of my servants might have an idea. If my son were here, no doubt he’d be able to even tell you the number of bricks used to build it.”

She pauses a moment, then evidently reaches some decision within herself, because her indignation has not left her body nor her mind. It hasn’t left since she was told what had happened the night before.

“Let me be blunt, my lords. I myself am mother to a rascal and a wretch, so I am peculiarly not unaware ofcertain liberties men will take. However, there are rakes, and there are degenerates.” 

She glares at the fire as she speaks, perhaps a habit when there is no justifiable target to direct her anger towards. “Remont does not press attention on maids who do not desire it. He has flaws aplenty - the stubborn and deliberate inability to accept a refusal is not among them. Ajax, on the other hand, has no such honour. I am sure you have heard any amount of gossip regarding his… proclivities. No doubt the side effects of his selfishness, left to their own devices without succour or recourse, are pitter pattering around the Brume. But he is ever shielded, for he is a Gaussain.”

She is a little too far from the hearth for the firelight to fall on her face, but it does not appear necessary. Fury is what lights her eyes, as it had done earlier.

“I have played this game too long not to predict the outcome if I did what I ought. Whether it is I or Oudine who speaks, the High Houses will not be of help, not for the likes of a lowborn servant or a foreign Miqo’te. They will be of even less help if House Gaussain is involved.

“If you manage to find evidence, make it ironclad, unless you wish to see exactly how unforgiving Lord Tramault is when it comes to what he would call slander. Even if his youngest is an acknowledged libertine, Rewelle remains physically unharmed. There will not be a case to make in his eyes; there will be reprisals. One false step, and both Aubemarle and Losstarot will pay dearly.”

She looks up at the Losstarots finally, stern and determined. 

“But some devil drew blades on unarmed, untrained girls. He cannot be allowed to escape unscathed.”

Joshua puffs his chest at the Dowager's praise, recognition he has long sought to hear. Returning to Ishgard had indeed been the right choice.

"Ajax may be well-protected, Viscountess, but whether all his hirelings are is another matter," is Isillud’s comment.

Joshua looks at his brother. "You suggest a warning?"

"Provided we find the right men." Isillud pats his crow’s head, which it uses to nuzzle his hand. "We're looking for someone who has a scratched eye and a ruby earring."

"Doubtful Ajax will have them remove it, and it's probably a very loyal one." Joshua ponders briefly. "So they must come to us."

It is hard to tell whether Isillud is smiling at his crow or because he has a plan. "A shame we are very decent, lawful, upstanding young men."

Joshua seems to agree. "We'll talk to your servants about the place, the sooner we begin the less people will notice." He bows and turns on his heel to the door.

Isillud follows after taking a few seconds to reassure the Dowager. "We shall see that justice is served. Fury keep you, Viscountess."

“And the same to you both,” says the Dowager, inclining her head. The rage has simmered down palpably. She is the Dowager Viscountess again, at home in her drawing room without care. “I shall await news, good or otherwise.”

She waits an extra minute after they leave. Only then does she allow herself to sigh out loud, looking up at the ceiling. 

“Vouloix my love, put in a word with the Fury if you please. Your daughter has already been through much - surely you'll not see her house endure any more trouble.”

She pauses as if awaiting an answer, but of course, none arrives.

Outside, Marceaux is ready and waiting. His expression is far less poker faced than before, replaced instead with some concern, and mostly eagerness to help. It is also his way of apology for the previous rudeness of his subordinates, despite the Dowager's sanctioning their actions.

He bows to the brothers. “Milady the Viscountess has instructed us all to be at my lordships’ service. If there is anything any of us may assist with, I beg milords to allow us to do so.”

Isillud Losstarot demonstrates that he CAN have restraint, surprisingly, when he speaks to Marceaux. "Firstly, I hear the Gaussains place much pride in their rubies. Please send a sample to the house - preferably with some eclairs." And with a straight face too. "Secondly, include the address of the place Lady Hailleone's grandsons frequent, I suspect we may find our culprits there if not the Brume."

He bows politely to the older man. "I shall inform you anon if we require a third request. We thank you for your assistance."

The Losstarots make their due exit, climbing into their carriage. Joshua waits for it to move before he speaks. "You're trying to throw spies off with the eclairs, but you won't survive a bar fight."

"Neither can you," Isillud retorts. 

"Hmph." The youth sulks, watching House Aubemarle shrink in the distance.

Isillud steeples his fingers, watching his brother through them. "We're going to tell them a story instead."

"Puh-lease," Joshua snorts. "Everyone knows how close we are with the Viscountess."

"Which makes a betrayal even more irresistible, doesn't it?"

Joshua whips back to his brother. The initial reaction is of shock and horror. It freezes, then softens. "Ah."

Isillud's eyes seem luminous in the darkened carriage without the sun shining in from its curtained windows. "Stay home and wait for the package; be ready to receive my call."

"I thought you'd send me to the Brume."

"No, it's better if we look even more fractured than we already are."

"I beg of you, don't suck cocks until it's done."

"No guarantees."

~*~

Barely an hour later, a snow white Chocobo arrives at the front of the house of the Losstarots. Its tall rider alights swiftly, secures the bird to a post and walks up to the door. A box wrapped in plain brown paper hangs from a handle made of securely-tied twine in his hand.    

Two polite knocks elicit the presence of good Ser Drouhont at the door. With a quick smile, the blonde rider of the Chocobo presents the Dowager Viscountess’ compliments to the lords Losstarot, with a token. A sense of deja vu hangs in the air as the parcel is delivered.

The rider bows, bids Ser Drouhont a good afternoon and as quickly as he arrived, goes on his way.

Within the privacy of the house, when the paper is inevitably cut away, and the twine kept safely, half a dozen golden-brown muffins greet the eye. They're still warm and emit a pleasant aroma of honey and vanilla.

Tucked between the muffins on the left is a tiny thing wrapped in white crepe: a thinly wrought necklace. Nothing any highborn Ishgardian would bother with, but the very slim chain isn't remarkable. It is the simple, rather small teardrop of a pendant, gleaming a clear blood red under the light, that explains its inclusion in the box. 

Meanwhile, a twice-folded piece of paper sits atop the muffins on the right, bearing a message in unfamiliar handwriting:

‘Eclairs would take too long, so Mr Ofanleitasyn asks pardon for only being able to make honey muffins. Her ladyship warns that the jewel on the necklace is suspected to be Gaussain since it was the one given to Rewelle, but it is not certain. Her ladyship - in her words - has never been tempting enough to receive as precious a gift as a Gaussain ruby. 

Lady Hailleone de Chaunollet had been rather misdirected, perhaps deliberately. Find Journey’s End, a merchant of potions towards the back of the Crozier. Give the proprietor 3000 gil, and ask for a bottle of Lovers Meeting. They will grant you access to the bar beneath.

Good hunting to you all.’

-

To be continued

[picturesofashe]

Two of them

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

Today in the FC chat, how Ishgardians get their knighthood.

@saesama credit for some weird ass reason Tumblr won't let me tag

@driftward

[mersi-kokhavasheva]

Hello!

This is Mersi Kokhavasheva, she/her. She is an Ilsabardian Raen Au Ra diviner-turned-knight based out of Gridania. I hope this will be a repository for the fan content I write about her story, from thoughtful snippets to five-part fanfiction.

FAQ&A

It's pronounced "mare-see" — not "mercy", though she understands the confusion — "koh-hha-vuh-shay-vuh".

Her preferred jobs were originally Bard, Dragoon, and Paladin, but she has of late swapped her arms for those of the Samurai, Dancer, and Gunbreaker. Blue magic is something of a special interest. She was raised on astrology, but has sworn off the cards since leaving home. Above all else, Mersi is a talented Weaver and seamstress, and is learning goldsmithing from her love.

She is engaged! Her love, A'rhya Velore, is a Gyr Abanian Seeker of the Sun Miqo'te with gorgeous ruby hair, and eyes like sapphire and amethyst, and a lovely soft voice that's not always able to be heard, and she's more than Mersi could ever have dreamed. However, recent events leave Mersi feeling less worthy than ever, and it shows in her haunted eyes whenever she's asked about a date for their wedding.

There is a timeline under construction for Mersi, A'rhya, and some friends along the way, to see how their spin on the Warrior of Light saga might look in a world in which, logistically, not every one of forty-eight million heroes could be veterans of the same battles.

I'm on Behemoth, in the midst of post-Heavensward. Feel free to say hi if you spot me, but I'm just as happy to chat here on Tumblr, or to share what I've written of her on AO3!

I'll likely be bouncing in and out of character here on Tumblr because, while this is not an RP blog, it's just fun to write in her headspace. If anyone wants to ask her a question, I think we'd be happy to answer. Perhaps we'll crack open the ask box and find out!

Frequent Tags

the Road to Sharlayan: This is for the stories written about Mersi and friends, or for progress made toward the next. I am new to AO3, so I would appreciate honesty when it comes to tagging etiquette! I hear it's "the more tags, the better" but, stars above, there are so many tags.

the Ruby and Larimar: Any Q's-and-A's Mersi gets through the ask box will be tagged as such, as will any fanart I mock up along the way. Casual coffee shop vibes! We love it.

Lore Have Mersi: For when Mersi have lore! These will be posts that explore who Mersi is as a person, or how she came to be as such. I will likely also use it for theorycrafting, such as my thoughts on the Deck of Sixty.

an Average Day in Eorzea: Memes. Nonsense. Shenanigans. Nothing you wouldn't see in Limsa, I'm sure!

Stories So Far

the Spineless Serenade (Romance) War in the north has found peace; those who fought alone to the east have found allies. From the patrol squadrons of Ishgard comes Mersi Kokhavasheva of the Knights Dragoon; from the war rooms of Rhalgr's Reach comes A'rhya Valore. This is not a story of their struggles, but of a rare moment in between. This is the story of a chance to grasp, and of their refusal to let go.

Coerthan Call (Drama/Tragedy) A sudden decision on the battlefield brings dangers unforeseen, and well foreseen. High above the Coerthas Western Highlands, two Knights Dragoon weigh the risks and put it all on the line to slay the dragon Graoully, but Mersi Kokhavasheva's past flies close behind.

The Lovers' Plainsong (Drama) In the fallout of her abduction by the heretics of Coerthas, Mersi Kokhavasheva rests with her fiancée in the shadow of war. Trauma shapes her future, worsened by the knowledge of how and why, of agency and fate. With the help of the one she loves, a woman broken must once again be made whole. All the while, the Dragon roars.

In Progress:

the Forgotten Berceuse (Romance) Two outsiders, strangers to the land of Eorzea, have found themselves sudden heroes of the realm. One misses the sands; the other, the waters. Together they find harmony, self-confidence, and room to breathe.

Ballet de Cour: A'rhya's Card (Romance) Despite two decades of training in the ways of astrology, Mersi has long been afraid to ask the cards for further guidance. With help from a dear friend, that bond may be renewed—or, by overcoming insecurity and learning unshakable trust, two diviners may strengthen their own bond instead.

A Tençon for Ishgard (Drama) The Dragonsong War has raged long enough. Both sides seek harmony, yet forces of darkness and light yet seek destruction. Caught between both worlds and asking for neither, Mersi Kokhavasheva has put down her lance; she rejoins the fray on her own terms.

[twsted-princess]

💕❤️‍🔥🐱🐕 Melanie with aymeric or gra'ha *smirk face*

I hate you (affectionate)

💕: Who confessed first and how? Did it go as planned or did shenanigans ensue?

G'raha wanted to confess for so damn long, likely between the time between Shadowbringers to Endwalker but you know how it is for the Scions so things get tossed around and you gotta save the world ya know normal stuff. But after the world is restored and the group decide it's time to disband G'raha would make his move since it might be the only chance he has. And so if one last ditch effort he poured his heart to her, that he's hopelessly in love with her and he wishes to spend eternity by her side. But he forgot to take something in account, one that the others were around and two......Melanie was already planning to traveling back to Sharlayan with him and Krile. But, now blushing just as much as he is, she returns his feelings.

❤️‍🔥: Who tends to take the lead with showing affection?

If anything it's Melanie at first. G'raha's very easy to read but surprisingly shy about wanting to hold her so she takes the lead resulting to a flustered but purring catboy. Eventually he'll take charge.

🐱: Do they have pet names for each other, if so what are they? How does their partner feel about their pet name?

They're both shy about pet names but Melanie will call G'raha her hero while she is his muse.

🐕: Do they have any pets together? If one of them had a pet from before their relationship how well does the pet get along with their partner? Do they have the pets approval or does said pet sit in between them and their partner any time they try to make a move?

Melanie has her chocobo Sunny, the starbird and Fat Cat but once they start living together they adopted two kittens that came from the same litter. All of Mel's pets love G'raha dearly and the kitten loves their parents very equally.

(Also yes there's Louise but he's a moogle thus his own person and not a pet. Anyways he approves)

💕: Who confessed first and how? Did it go as planned or did shenanigans ensue?

Aymeric and like with the previous one took ages for him to say it since being the Warrior of Light means defending all of Eorzea from abominations so when she returns to Ishgard it seems like a normal visit. He's a generous host, providing her a rather spacious room with a delicious dinner and even a dance which is.....a little unusual but he's so charming and sweet. As they dance he admits to his true feelings and to his delight, she agreed having been in love with him for a long time too.

❤️‍🔥: Who tends to take the lead with showing affection?

Again Aymeric. You tell me he wouldn't hold her hand and kiss it constantly. This man needs to be kissed daily or else he'll be thirsty. Of course she's perfectly willing to give him all the love she can.

🐱: Do they have pet names for each other, if so what are they? How does their partner feel about their pet name?

Melanie's of course shy about it but she loves calling him her prince and love, it makes his ears do the happy wiggle. Aymeric has a lot for her. Darling, dear, beloved, princess, angel, sweet blossom, he can go on for forever.

🐕: Do they have any pets together? If one of them had a pet from before their relationship how well does the pet get along with their partner? Do they have the pets approval or does said pet sit in between them and their partner any time they try to make a move?

Like with the last guy all of her pets and Louise love Aymeric very much but in this case Aymeric himself has a chocobo (whom I will dub Percival) that adores his new mother. Soon they end up being grandparents to Percy's chicks.