#Luckily this is Haurchefant!

[avirael]

FFxivWrite 2024

Day 15 - Kindness (Free Day)

“Haurchefant!”, A’viloh yelled as he noticed the Elezen at the lower end of the staircase while looking down into the entrance hall. Quickly he followed him downstairs. “Rael told me you were looking for me.”

“Right.”, he said with a bright smile. “And here you are! I have to admit when you weren’t home yet when I arrived back home from the Congregation earlier, I was a little worried something might have happened to you on your way home.”

“Oh! No, I’m fine! I just brought Chloé to the stables and walked a bit through the city.”, the Miqo’te explained. “I am sorry if I caused you to worry.”

“No, it’s alright. I should have known you could take care of yourself after this impressive show of strength today.”, Haurchefant chuckled.

“Well... then let me use this opportunity to thank you once again for such a wonderful gift and also for your support and cheering me on like this.”, A’viloh said and smiled at the Elezen. “I wouldn’t have been able to do this without your and Rael’s help.”

But Haurchefant shook his head. “I’m sure you would have anyway. And it of course goes without saying that I should support such a good friend as you are.”

“I don’t think it’s that obvious.”, the Miqo’te pondered. “At least I am not taking it for granted. Also that you spent so much time with me the last few weeks. First at Camp Dragonhead, when I wasn’t feeling well, and now here. Your kindness helped me a lot in this strange city.”

Haurchefant laughed slightly and A’viloh realised what he had said. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to insult your home of course. Ishgard is beautiful, as is this house. Very comfortable in fact… but still… it’s so unfamiliar for me. And some days I feel horribly lost and lonely.”

“That’s only understandable…”, Haurchefant offered reassuringly. “But I am glad to hear I could help you. I only wish for you to be happy. After everything you’ve done for all of us, you certainly deserve it.”

“I don’t know…”, A’viloh said and the sadness still lingered on his face. “I am not as special as all of you make it sound sometimes…”

“Of course you are!”, Haurchefant protested but A’viloh just shrugged. For a moment the Elezen seemed to think, then he exclaimed, “Oh! I know something that might cheer you up! Have you ever seen northern lights?”

“Have I ever seen what?”, A’viloh replied in confusion.

“Oh, splendid!”, Haurchefants beamed and asked a servant to fetch their coats. “I think you would love the northern lights, come one!”

Too puzzled to protest A’viloh followed him to the door, where a servants already handed the Elezen their coats. Quickly Haurchefant put on his own coat before helping A’viloh into his and then opened the door for him.

“Thank you.”, the Miqo’te whispered. “But where are we going?”

“Only to the pavilion.”, Haurchefant explained. “Don’t worry, you won’t freeze! There should be a fire. I can’t promise that we will see any northern lights though. It is rare for them to be visible from the city, but at least the sky is clear enough to see the stars tonight, so there is a chance...”

So far the night sky had mostly been hidden by clouds since they arrived here in Ishgard. At least the stars had never been so clear and shining as they were this night.

A’viloh found it strange how the stars over such a far-away and cold city could remind him of the night sky in the desert. The constellations were slightly different of course but the sea of glimmering lights was just as infinite and beautiful as he remembered.

There in fact was a small fire lit in a crozier inside the little pavilion at the side of Fortemps manor. The tiny building had been positioned so you could overlook some of the rooftops of Ishgard and also have a free view at the snowy mountains and the night sky above.

Since A’viloh had forgotten his gloves he stretched out his hands to warm them at the fire. Meanwhile Haurchefant stepped closer towards the lookout over the city and let his eyes scan the sky.

“There!”, he suddenly exclaimed and raised an arm to point at the sky. “It’s not much, but look, there in the distance!”

Curiously A’viloh looked up and followed with his gaze where the Elezen pointed. At first he couldn’t see anything but after a moment he caught sight of the faint, green glowing whirls in the sky. He gasped and hurried to Haurchefants side, leaning onto the banister of the pavilion to get a better look at this curious, beautiful appearance. For a few moment he just wordlessly stared to the sky, his eyes shining brighter with wonder than the stars in the sky.

“This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen…”, he whispered.

“Truly…”, Haurchefant replied but it wasn’t the sky he looked at. “There it is again, that pretty smile of yours.”

Startled A’viloh turned his eyes to Haurchefant who looked back at him smiling fondly.

Carefully the Elezen rested one hand on A’viloh’s and although it surprised the Miqo’te he didn’t pull it away. He wasn’t sure what this was but it felt comfortable. So often he felt horribly lost and hopeless and lonely but not when Haurchefant was around. His courage and cheerfulness were so contagious.

Tentatively the Elezen raised his other hand to caress A’viloh’s cheek and A’viloh couldn’t help but lean into the warmth he provided.

“I like you, A’viloh.”, Haurchefant confessed quietly and a little hesitantly the Miqo’te replied. “I like you too…”

He didn’t know if he really meant it the same way as him. But maybe this was enough for now.

“I would like to kiss you…”, the Elezen whispered almost silently and although it wasn’t a question it sounded like one.

What does it matter anymore?, A’viloh asked himself and nodded barely visible. Maybe I can be happy after all…

But he knew it felt wrong even before Haurchefants had leant down to him, about to close the distance between them.

He wanted to try, he wished it felt different but —

Wordlessly he raised a hand to the Elezen’s lips and turned away. Why did this feel so wrong all of a sudden? Why couldn’t he just he happy?

“I’m so sorry”, he whispered. “I can’t…”

Carefully he glimpsed to Haurchefant who looked so confused.

“There is someone else…”, A’viloh explained without really knowing anymore who it was he was talking about. But did it really matter? The result was the same. “There was, I mean… He is gone…”

“I am sorry…”, Haurchefant offered but A’viloh shook his head.

“No, I should be sorry.”, he repeated and evaded Haurchefants eyes with a sad expression on his face. “I’ve given you false hope. But I thought I could…”

“It’s alright.”, Haurchefant said softly and instead took A’viloh’s hand and pressed a light kiss to his knuckles. ”You really don’t need to explain yourself to me. And no need for such a sad face. Wasn’t this a wonderful evening until now?”

“It was.”, A’viloh agreed and smiled as he noticed the Elezen was still smiling at him too.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”, Haurchefant asked but A’viloh didn’t want to ruin the mood a second time. “Maybe another time…”

The Elezen reassuringly put a hand on his shoulder.

“Fine. But you can always talk to me if you want. You are a friend, A’viloh, and you will always be, no matter what.”

A’viloh felt so silly for rejecting someone as kind as Haurchefant. He was such an unconditional, wonderful friend. He himself on the other hand…

“I just wished I could be such a good friend for others as you are…”, the Miqo’te admitted and looked to the ground.

This seemed to surprise Haurchefant. “What makes you think you are not?”

Sharply A’viloh laughed. “Oh, only their faces when they look at me. Lately all I do is cause them to worry. Have you looked at Rael recently? Ever since we fled, every time I talk to them, they seem more and more troubled and withdrawn and I cannot tell why…”

“Hmmm…”, Haurchefant tilted his head in thought. “Rael certainly seems like something is bothering them and indeed they were worried about you. But are you sure this change is your fault? Do you think I should try to talk to them instead?”

“If Rael doesn’t talk to me, I doubt they will talk to you…”, A’viloh explained with a sigh. “If I just could so something to cheer them up…”

“Why don’t you?”, Haurchefant asked. “Certainly there is something Rael likes that would make them happy?”

“Books?”, A’viloh offered but didn’t sound convinced.

“I think there’s more than enough in our library already…”

“Magic and potions? But what do I know about that?”

“Isn’t Rael already studying with the astrologians? But maybe they would like to talk about it… what else?”

“Nature? Yes! And animals!”

“Ah! That’s something we can work with!”, Haurchefant exclaimed. “Sit down! I’ll pull the fire a bit closer. I’m sure we can figure something out….”

[bunsandstuff]

Goodnight

CW: Tragedy, Grief, Death

I mad a short screen series about if Haurchefant hadn't survived in his and Alsene's AU. More below!

[plounce]

replaying ARR has made me really desperately curious to know how much got changed/added in translation/localization... because i know some crazy stuff was done - for example, the original english text for the moenbryda minion had the implication that urianger made the minion as a sex toy (???!!!!!), and luckily this was later fixed to be closer to the actual japanese text. but that is such a dramatic example of a translation choice made in very poor taste. there's of course the infamous hien dialogue where he calls yotsuyu's trafficker a good guy in english. one thing in ARR that stunned me is in the part where you're gearing up to rescue the scions from castrum centri, and the guy helping you REALLY hates the garleans - and eventually it's revealed that he's from ala mhigo, and he and his family were put into labor camps, and his mother & sister were made to be comfort women for imperial soldiers! holy shit! that's fucking horrible! gaius was the viceroy of ala mhigo and set up its occupational government - did gaius condone that? with the context of the actual historical japanese empire's atrocities, that makes the sorrow of werlyt storyline really, deeply suspect! but also - i don't know if that's the original intended text, or something that the english version added to make the garlean empire look bad that then came back to bite it in the ass later on (from my first 2 examples, one could surmise that the english translation has a tendency to introduce weird sex stuff that wasn't in the original japanese text - but it also desexualized certain things, such as haurchefant). and i don't know what other translations/localizations added, subtracted, or changed. especially because there's sooooo much text in this game. but also translations/localizations have lives and characters of their own - they are not inherently inferior versions of the text. i don't have a thesis statement here, im just thinking out loud. such is blogging

[shalpilot]

i dont have nearly enough art of Kiril and Haurchefant. luckily i know the solution and thats to make more art of Kiril and Haurchefant

[jaradeborelandfriends]

Ren'li feels lost after the Bloody Banquet, not just because he is on the run, but lost in his faith. Luckily he has Haurchefant to steer him right.

[lovehotelreservation]

you have a fear of riding chocoboback. this is a huge problem you see, as an adventurer who needs the convenience of a sturdy steed. luckily you know someone who is a bit of a chocobo pro himself. haurchefant is ready to help you learn to ride, starting with exposure therapy….… but do you have the stamina for it??!!!! 💦 (overstimulation, marathon sex, riding; but like im a guided way yk???)

"--your form is already so splendid as is, my dear!!! Though please have care, for once your steed encounters rougher terrain, that is when having steadfast grip is utmost key!!! Please let me demonstrate for you and you alone--!!!"

You had thought by this hour--how long had it been at this point?-- that you had gotten used to Haurchefant's energy. Despite having squared off against mighty foe after another during your adventuring, you were gripped by exhaustive euphoria as you did all you could to keep your body upright.

Your hands were braced firmly against his chest with red markings left by your nails with every pleasured scratch and claw--these same streaks of crimson would be badges of loving pride whenever he would inspect them after tucking you in for the day.

For now, he was beaming up at you with the widest of smiles, his large hands gripping your hips with affectionate security as he guided you through the vigorous tempo he had you bounce up and down his long, thick cock--far from brutish but direly eager. He laid beneath you in joyful devotion as he watched your face contort with pleasure, your back arch with each orgasm he brought you too, your hips grind back down needily to meet his thrusts.

Though, testing your focus, it was as he spoke that he suddenly snapped his hips up, lifting up off the bed, his mighty form pushing you upwards with ease. He let out a hearty laugh as he watched your euphoria shatter ever so as you scrambled to retain your balance, only to sink back into pleasure as you helplessly continued to grind down on his dick.

His hips fell back down to the bed as he proceeded to scoop you into his arms, hugging you close as he couldn't resist from kissing your face with absolute love.

"Marvelous, my joy, marvelous!!! You will master me yet!!!"

[mizmangamama]

As soon as I got the regalia from the ffxv event in ffxiv, the boys and I went for a joyride at the beach! Luckily, the weather was in our favor that day. Even Zenos seemed to enjoy himself during the drive, much to Thancred's dismay. 😅 Haurchefant was definitely having a blast!!

Credit for the screenshots goes to my best friend 🧡

[hydaelyns-bitch]

Coming To Ishgard

[MSQ-following WoLship fic because I wanted to write my WoL being stupid. I was going to sit on it for a bit longer, but I have the patience of a wet cat.]

“My lord, I have returned with the Scions.” 

Driselle’s eyes remained fixated on the back of Haurchefant’s head as he spoke. Not out of nerves, surely—after all, she’d been able to sneak a bit of fogweed while Alphinaud wasn’t looking, back when they’d first entered the city. Nerves were no longer part of the equation, though her mind did keep wandering to whether or not anyone would be able to tell that her eyes were bloodshot. 

She was overwhelmed—that was all. It was much easier to stare at all of the individual strands of silvery-blue hair on her good buddy’s head than it was to absorb the details of her surroundings. Fury’s tits, she hated meeting new people. It was easy enough when it was a casual interaction, but after how excited Haurchefant had been to introduce them all to his family, there was no way something couldn’t go terribly wrong. As a rule, Driselle was usually oblivious to how she was perceived, but for Haurchefant’s sake, she wanted to do this right. 

Driselle stood off to the side and found herself quite content with studying the back of her knight friend’s ears now, watching how they moved when he spoke. Did her own ears do the same? She’d never paid enough attention to other elezen to find out. Part of her wanted to flick the back of his ear to see what happened. Luckily, she was too paralyzed by the gravity of the situation to do so. 

“I hope your journey was not too taxing. I, Count Edmont de Fortemps, do bid you welcome.” 

There he was in front of them, the Count Edmont that Haurchefant had spoken so highly of. When she eventually broke her gaze from Haurchefant’s hair, Driselle found that she quite liked the his little mustache. He was every bit the picture of an Ishgardian noble with his cane and fancy coat, though perhaps without the pompous air that Driselle had come to expect from these sorts. His voice was comforting in the way that her own father’s was—though Count Edmont appeared to be a bit more mentally present than her own absentminded sire. 

After hearing so many things about House Fortemps from both Haurchefant and her cousin Adeline (of the far less prominent House Charbonnier), it was difficult to believe that she was here before them, standing in their parlor as an actual guest. Slaying primals and meeting with various heads of state were nothing to the girl who, only a few years ago, had been so terribly concerned with blending in with Ishgardian high society. If only Adeline could see her now. 

…She probably would, as a matter of fact. That was a problem for later, and one that Driselle would rather not think too much about. 

Count Edmont continued, “As wards of House Fortemps, you shall be afforded every courtesy. My home is your home.” 

The count was certainly a generous man—far more than her own aunt, whose own manor was not far from that of House Fortemps. Unlike the home of House Charbonnier, however, there was a sort of sophisticated ease in the air of this place. There wasn’t a speck of dust, nor was it cluttered with old artifacts of generations gone by. No oppressive aura of desperation lingered here, or, at the very least, not one that she could detect. 

Where the streets of Ishgard had been dark and gloomy, the warm lighting within the manor almost burned her eyes. They would have to adjust slowly. That Duskwight heritage never ceased to resurface with new inconveniences. What she could see, however, was quite grand. Even her aunt’s house hadn’t been this big, let alone so well-decorated. Everything was so deliberately placed—a far cry from Aunt Eugenie’s tacky attempt at opulence. 

Were Alphinaud and Tataru nervous at all? Not that she herself was, at any rate. Absolutely not. No, she was simply overwhelmed. 

’And higher than dhalmel tits. Fury’s frigid snatch.’ 

The young Leveilleur was probably fine, high society type that he was—and so used to conversing with political leaders and war heroes alike, even at the young age of sixteen. His posture was formal, but so confident. 

’How is that even fair? He hasn’t even hit his growth spurt yet.’ 

Tataru simply looked on in awe. She was certainly the adaptable sort. 

“My companions and I are deeply honored, Count Fortemps.” The little white-haired shite was the first to respond. Go figure. 

‘Ah. Alphinaud's speaking for us again. Amazing. Brilliant. Have at it, I guess.’ 

Driselle knew she couldn't complain, of course. Far better to have the boy speak for them than herself—though she would have just as gladly have taken Tataru. Really, maybe Driselle herself was the only Scion worse at conversation than Urianger. 

’At least Urianger can form a bloody coherent sentence, funny words and all.

...Or, well, could. He could form a bloody coherent sentence. Had been able to. Funny words and all.’ 

In a rare moment of giving a shite, she hoped that Urianger was alright, wherever he’d gone. Driselle found her mind wandering to some unfortunate possibilities, and decidedly shifted her focus back to the topic at hand. The fate of the other Scions could wait. 

She had to give Alphinaud credit, however. He was a lot less of an insufferable goobue-arse after being horribly betrayed by his own army. That sort of thing did have the tendency to humble a person, and it had worked wonders on the little diplomat. 

Count Edmont smiled warmly. “The honor is mine, Master Alphinaud. Consider it an expression of our gratitude for your service to Ishgard.” 

Driselle found herself forgetting for a moment what the old man was even referring to, until she happened to glance at Haurchefant and recall the entire series of events that had led up to the confrontation at the Steps of Faith and the defense against the Dravanian horde. Ah, right. Load of horseshite that was. 

She should have known that entering Coerthas again would lead to something like this. Nothing ever could be easy anymore. ‘Oh, Warrior of Light, you’re here! I do hope you enjoy entrenching yourself in everyone else’s politics. Now be a dear and go slaughter some dragons while you’re at it.’ Bollocks, that. You do one job for the Adventurer’s Guild and suddenly you’re everyone’s bitch. 

Then there was that whole thing with Midgardsormr, which was yet another fever dream that’d been thrust upon her. She hadn’t fully absorbed that one, and was loath to do so. That would mean acknowledging the tiny whelp that was supposed to be the voice of the enormous corpse in the middle of Lake Silvertear. How many others had to put up with this mindboggling rubbish? Hydaelyn must be trying to do her in. 

It was quite amazing how, when so many bizarre and terrifying events happened on the regular, one could simply put them out of their mind as easily as the social faux pas committed at some gathering a week before. Easier, even. The fogweed likely didn't hurt. 

Maybe she'd just begun to dissociate during all of it. That was plausible enough. 

“Forgive me, my lord, but…are you not concerned? To accept foreign guests at such a juncture—especially ones with our…reputation…” As usual, Alphinaud certainly had a point. After all, the Pillars were always rife with gossip, and they were not only a group of those dreaded outsiders, but fugitives besides. It couldn’t possibly be a good look for House Fortemps to be harboring their type. 

‘It’s a load of shite, s’what it is. I didn’t do a damned thing,’ Driselle thought with some bitterness. This was what she got for not knowing how to say ‘no’. And it was unlikely that this trend was going to stop anytime soon. She really needed to grow a backbone one of these days. 

Count Edmont shook his head. “Do not worry yourself on my account. ‘Tis true that Ishgard’s first thought has ever been the war effort, hence the closing of our borders…” 

To Count Edmont’s immediate left were his two other sons (recognized as such solely due to Haurchefant mentioning them in passing), nearly identically dressed and standing at attention. Something about them looked a bit familiar, but it was hard to be sure. Perhaps she’d seen them in passing the last time she’d been in Ishgard. After all, she’d spent quite a lot of time in this part of the city. It wasn’t impossible. 

“…Yet it is in troubled times most of all that men should seek allies, don’t you think?” The count cast a glance to the two, who dutifully nodded in agreement. This seemed practiced, as if they’d been trained to do so from boyhood. It wouldn’t have been surprising. Nobility had such odd little nuances to their behavior. 

Count Edmont continued, “Granted, my decision will have raised eyebrows in the Vault and in the halls of the other High Houses. But so long as you continue with your altruistic endeavors, I doubt my honored peers will feel moved to voice their concerns.” 

As he spoke, Driselle found herself once again looking back to the two young men beside him. She was trying desperately now to remember where she’d seen them before. Had it been at mass, back when Adeline and Aunt Eugenie had still insisted that she attend the services at Saint Reymanaud’s? 

The eldest, she presumed, stood closest to his father. He was a very dour-looking man, his brow almost permanently furrowed. ‘Gods, what a forehead. Could play a game of tic-tac-toe on tht thing. Does it work like a mirror if he gets sweaty?’ His ears were almost as long as her own (which she already considered to be absurd), and she couldn’t help but find him to be a bit silly-looking despite his apparent serious demeanor. It was a genuine struggle not to imagine various things written across that forehead of his, given how wide and open the space was. Perhaps he could rent it out for advertisements or religious propaganda. She had a feeling that he wouldn’t take kindly to the suggestion and decided to keep it to herself.

Now, the younger one, she immediately found herself with a bias towards—perhaps because he seemed closer in age to herself. Though he clearly was attempting to come off just as composed as his brother, he couldn’t seem to stop fidgeting, occasionally bouncing on his toes or trying to toss his long, black hair out of his eyes. He was shorter than his brothers, and considerably rounder, at that. He had, in Driselle’s opinion, the prettiest face she’d ever seen on a man, with pudgy cheeks that she so desperately wanted to squish. 

Driselle had to remind herself that doing so was probably frowned upon. Shame, really—she’d never wanted to touch someone’s face so badly in her life, and this was coming from a woman who didn’t care much for other people on any conceivable level. The fogweed must have truly been doing a number on her. 

Were she not so averse to eye contact, she might have noticed the younger one’s bug-eyed stare in her direction.

Driselle was snapped out of her near trance by Alphinaud’s response to Count Edmont, as she’d long stopped listening in favor of staring at his sons in a way that she vaguely hoped wasn’t too disconcerting. 

“Then there is naught to fear,” Alphinaud said, his mood brightened considerably. “Though our numbers are much reduced, we are no less determined to carry on our work.” 

’What do you mean ‘we’? I bet you reminded all of the professors that they’d forgotten to check for last night’s homework, too, you little shite.’ There was no malice in these thoughts, but a teasing that’d slowly begun to emerge after the initial distaste for the boy had given way in the past few months. Even if it was partially his fault that they were here to begin with. 

Count Edmont nodded with a measure of satisfaction. “—Ah, but before I forget: allow me to introduce my other two sons. Artoirel, my eldest—” 

The one with the enormous forehead bowed his head in acknowledgement. 

“—And Emmanellain, my youngest.” 

'Wait a godsdamned minute—'

She’d heard that name before, without a doubt. This was the one that Adeline had so often derisively referred to as “that peacockish twit”. So they’d met before after all, then. More than that, even. 

The young Lord Emmanellain de Fortemps was the one who had taken pity upon her and taught her to dance. She’d been so content to play the wallflower, expecting no one to speak to her at all. And yet, he’d approached. When she’d claimed to have no skill in dancing whatsoever, he’d offered to show her how, and she’d accepted on a whim (against her better judgement). Adeline had been almost comically furious about the whole thing, calling it a ‘spectacle’ and chewing them both out afterwards. 

Gods, he’d been so patient with her, too. He was a silly, foppish boy, but he'd also been so kind to her. How could she have forgotten his face so easily? 

’Probably because I was too afraid to look him in the eye.' She did recall staring at the top of his head an awful lot whenever they’d met, and especially during that night. Most of the time, the sight was accompanied by Adeline chastising the boy for following them around. ‘This is almost worse than he is with Laniaitte,’ she’d once said, referring to a friend of hers that Driselle had met on occasion. She had to wonder if that had ever worked out for him. Maybe the two had gotten engaged by now. That would’ve been a funny pair. 

Alas, when she looked up at him, he was staring off to the side, far more interested in the damask of the wallpaper. Perhaps he didn’t remember her. It would have made sense. He was a young noble, after all. He had plenty of girls to dance with. Why would he recall anyone so plain and dull as herself? 

’Adeline had a point. I was likely a passing novelty and not much else.’ Surely, she should have expected as much. She couldn’t allow herself to be disheartened. That would be silly. Who had time for such things, anyroad? Not her, in the least. Though it would have been nice to have a friend in Ishgard for once. 

The best thing to do would be to forget about it, lest their stay at Fortemps Manor be a painfully awkward one. 

Driselle forced herself to look back to Count Edmont, who was still conversing with Alphinaud. 

“Full glad am I to hear it. Ah, but before you return to your labors, why not take a tour of the city? You would do well, I think, to acquaint yourselves with your new surroundings. After all, you may be here for some time.” The old man looked the Scions over and gave them another one of his gentle smiles. 

It certainly wasn’t a bad idea. And Driselle quite suddenly felt as if she needed some air. However, when Alphinaud looked to both Tataru and herself, she felt as if she was about to be voluntold once again, and she wasn’t sure she much cared for that. 

“Though our friends in House Fortemps have been generous enough to extend us their protection, we must take care not to impose too much on their hospitality,” Alphinaud explained, as if it actually needed explaining at all. “It is only proper that we learn about our new home, so that we might become more self-sufficient.” 

Driselle decided not to mention that this wasn’t her first time in Ishgard. It would be funnier this way. She had to wonder how long she could keep the ruse up. She’d already mentioned it to Haurchefant, but if she’d said as much to Alphinaud, it wasn’t unlikely that he hadn’t been listening. The boy just liked to hear himself talk. 

Tataru responded, “It'll take a while to learn the lay of the land, but learn it we must. Then there's the markets and taverns—we'll need to know where to shop and where to hear small talk.” Smart girl, that Tataru was. There was something to be said for being small enough to stay underfoot and eavesdrop, too. If Driselle tried to do that sort of thing, she’d have to put a shade over her head and pretend to be a lamp, lest she stand out too much. 

“'Twould seem a tour of the city is indeed in order.” Alphinaud nodded and looked back to Count Edmont. “I thank you for your counsel, my lord. My companions and I shall of course do as you suggest.” 

---

As the Scions exited into the foyer, Driselle could hear bits and pieces of the conversation that was to follow in their absence. It began as hushed whispers, but quickly escalated into bickering between the three brothers, from what she could hear with her absurdly long ears. 

“—Ow! What the devil was that for?!” Emmanellain’s voice came out as a strangled squeak. 

“Stop gawking!” It sounded as if Artoirel had elbowed him or something along those lines. “Have you no self-control?” 

Next came Haurchefant’s voice, cheery and ever-so-teasing. “Why, Emmanellain, I’ve never seen you so shy--and quiet--in the presence of a fair lady before! Perhaps I should have brought her home sooner!” There was the sound of a slight struggle and the jingling of chainmail as Haurchefant presumably moved closer to pester his baby brother. 

“That's rubbish, and you know it! I was only wondering why she was so...uncommonly tall!” Emmanellain protested, his voice suddenly muffled. He was trying to fight Haurchefant off by the sound of it. 

Well, that was less than flattering. It was, however, not an uncommon response. She was a very long woman, after all. The implications of anything that came before Emmanellain’s comment on her height were completely lost on her, baked as she was. 

  ---

Alphinaud looked up at Driselle with a squint. He’d picked up on her behavior far more easily that she’d thought he would, even though he’d been so focused on his conversation with the count. He really was too observant for his own good. “What was that all about? You’ve been making strange faces since we’ve arrived.” 

Driselle’s response came drily. “Don’t worry about it.” 

Tataru was already talking the poor manservant’s ear off as he led them to the front door. If nothing else, this tour would give them all some time to absorb their new circumstances, and she did quite like hearing Tataru’s commentary on things, so it wouldn’t be an entire waste of time for her, either. 

She only hoped that she wouldn’t run into anyone that she knew. Especially her cousin. She hadn’t exactly written ahead of time to warn her family that she was returning to the city, and she hadn’t been in contact since she’d left. 

“…As you say, then.” Alphinaud frowned, an eyebrow raised. He really did look like a petulant child. Before he could ask another question, Driselle reached down to ruffle his hair with her gauntleted fingers. This was met with a small cry of surprise from the boy, which Driselle completely ignored. It was funnier to not give a response, after all. Frustrating Alphinaud was becoming a bit of a game in itself. 

And in but a moment, they were back out on the street, into the cold Ishgardian air. It would be a welcome respite for the time being, if her ears didn’t freeze and turn to dust first. 

[coldshrugs]

longing's favorite season 🔹 part one

pairing: io laithe / estinien varlineau rating: general word count: 3.8k additional entries: prologue 🔹 part 2 🔹 stable scene 🔹

"Saulette, could I trouble you to draw the curtain?"

Io looks up from her book to the cold, clear ray of midday sun streaming through the glass window and directly onto her left hand. An unwelcome distraction, the way it catches the faceted stone there, sending tiny colorful, refractions across the page. She twists the band until the gem is inside her fist.

She squeezes until the metal begins to dig.

When the girl doesn't answer, she asks again. "Saulette?"

New to the staff at Fortemps Manor, Saulette became Edmont's solution to Io's frequent lack of company: a handmaid and potential friend in one convenient package, of course, but Io is not Emmanellain.

Saulette is nice enough, eager and amiable. As a blessing, she is much less intimidated by Io after her extended residence at the Alicorn. But she's very young and, at times, overly familiar. Io has had to ask her to refrain from hanging over the back of her chair as she reads, or not to cling to her arm during their afternoon walks. Luckily she has learned to knock and wait to be let in, instead of barging. 

Now she is nowhere to be found.

Just as well. All the good reading materials were exhausted three moons ago anyway, so she closes the book with a mind to pillage the kitchens.

The east wing—a relatively small two-story annex comprised of a few private apartments—is empty. Once, it was a refuge for Io and her friends when they needed it most; now, the Lady Greystone de Fortemps quietly wiles away her days here until called upon for a social gathering. The warmth offered by these halls has all but seeped away, like the letters from her former Scion associates, save Y'shtola. Even Haurchefant's flame for her has burned inconsistently since she denounced life as an adventurer, just as Edmont predicted.

Her footfalls echo softly in the carpeted corridor until she reaches the parlor.

Murmurs creep through the door before she can open it, including Saulette's excited trill. Io doesn't bother trying to listen; she suspects they're on about the next high house luncheon or some other event she will be politely forced to endure as an envoy of Lord Edmont's great vision for opening Ishgard's borders. She hadn't planned for her exoticism to be his first import, but it seems her marriage to Haurchefant required it.

The voices hush as she enters, but the staff cannot hide their interest as they huddle around the long wooden credenza by the main hall's entrance. Io blinks curiously as they rustle a missive between them.

"Mistress Io!" Saulette rushes to her side, taking her hand and bowing awkwardly at the same time. "Have you heard the news? Ser Es—forgive me—the Azure Dragoon has returned to Ishgard. Just days ago!"

"Estinien is here?" Io musters her composure. She pulls her hand out of Saulette's and spins the ring once more.

Saulette nods vigorously, beaming at Io while the rest of the staff return to their chatter.

"I have some errands to run in the crozier, and may wander down to Foundation." Io places a hand on Saulette's shoulder when she tries to follow her toward the cloak rack. "I'm fine, really. I expect to be back in a bell or two. Take the afternoon to yourself."

Outside, the air is filled with wispy white flurries floating lazily toward the ground, one of the more pleasant types of snowfall in this place of endless winter. Not even the ever-present chill can temper the excitement flooding Io's chest at the thought of reuniting with someone so dear to her.

The friendship forged during their travels was shaky in the beginning, but she and Estinien grew into the sort of silent understanding she can't recall sharing with another since... maybe since she arrived on this continent. Their pasts, their journeys, and the titles they donned as armor were all congruencies that smoothed the initial frustrations of their forced proximity and made them walk in lockstep. When it was time for him to leave and make his amends, there was nothing painful in the departure—he needed time and space to grieve, and she would want the same for herself—so there could be nothing but happiness in his return.

And Io could use a touch of happiness. No one's been in her corner. Not like she needs.

Aymeric fusses over her wellbeing during this banquet and that gala, or calls on her when he has a moment to spare, but his new responsibilities leave little time for depth to accompany his fondness.

She rounds the corner of the manor to avoid too many eyes, then twists her aether in on itself, small enough to fling toward the pinprick of energy closest to her destination.

In an instant, Saint Valeroyant's Forum takes shape around her. Imposing charcoal stone and metal spires meet the snow-bright sky above, but on the ground, folks pick their way around crumbling rock and rickety boardwalks. Half of Valeroyant still reclines against the edge of the fountain. Io assumes this courtyard was once elegant to behold, but in its current state, she sees only a fitting metaphor in the fallen statue: how much the nation demands of her soldiers, and the kind of rest they might find in their futures.

The air is thicker in Foundation. Smoky, colder, and colored by the scents and sounds of the Forgotten Knight: brewing ale, smoked meats, and rowdy laughter. It is only midday and the tavern is already in full swing. She remembers staying in a dingy Cloud Nine room that was never quiet enough to rest soundly, but Gibrillont made sure she, Tataru, and Alphinaud were warm and fed. That was plenty, after what they'd fled.

Nostalgia's inviting whisper almost pulls Io into the tavern... but a soldier clinks past, reminding her why she's here. She bears straight ahead, into the Congregation of Our Knights Most Heavenly.

"Greetings, Laithe." Firmalbert's eyes crinkle beneath his helm in a smile. He does not correct his address.

She returns his smile and continues inside, where more than a dozen knights pour over various duties. More still wander up and down the stairs, going to the barracks and offices above, or leaving the premises toward their latest assignment. In the center is Ser Handeloup, third in command of the Temple Knights, bent over a table laden with documents, sorted linkpearls, and maps with scattered pins indicating troop positions.

Io's approach does not break his concentration. She waits across from his, her smile stretching with each passing second she goes unnoticed. Aymeric's choice of leadership may as well be his reflection. "Do you ever stop, Handeloup?"

"Io? You're a welcome sight." There is little surprise in his expression, a sign of his constant preparedness. He brightens easily, happy to shed a pressing responsibility or two in exchange for a chance to chat. "Apologies, I haven't had the opportunity to congratulate you personally. I hope you and Lord Haurchefant still bask in wedded bliss." He smiles, pausing graciously to let her answer.

Io's lips curve into the barest smile, but she offers only a nod.

Handeloup clears his throat. "My wife was delighted by the invitation. You see, families as middling as ours rarely have the pleasure of attending such events, and your wedding was an experience neither of us will soon forget. You have my gratitude."

There is a thick, faraway drumbeat in her ears. Her vision shifts focus, clear then blurry, seeing him but not. The false smile sticks in place. She sinks. 

This dread was there in the beginning, but has only grown heavier over the last few months. Handeloup is happy for her. He wishes her well and only means to share in what should be a joyous time. Shouldn't she be happy too?

Why is it so difficult?

It's only half a second before she resurfaces. 

"Careful, or I'll have to see you invited to the next soiree. You think you know exhaustion now..." With luck, she downplays her unease. Handeloup even offers her a polite chuckle. "But I'm afraid I didn't come with an invitation at the ready. The true reason for my visit is rather removed from the joys of high society. I've just heard Estinien has recently returned to the city. Is he here?"

At this, Handeloup's smile falters. His posture straightens. Io readies herself for some grave news of her friend's demise; was his return not a safe one? Or perhaps he's left again and she missed him by days, or merely hours.

"I am sorry, Lady Greystone, but Ser Varlineau is disposed. He and the Lord Commander are in a meeting just now and cannot be interrupted."

'Lady' Greystone, is it? Was she not simply 'Io' a moment ago?

At least her question has a direct answer.

Io straightens her own back, clasps her hands firmly. "Come now, Handeloup, you know the three of us are close friends. I am no stranger to their meetings. I'm sure Aymeric is currently making a generous proposal and Estinien is pretending to shoot it down with an in–"

"I am afraid the Lord Commander has asked for no disturbances." Handeloup looks to the stairs he has seen her climb time and time again to access Aymeric's office. "Glad as I am for the ways Ishgard is changing because of your deeds, there are some things that will ever be the same. As you are now the lady of a High House, I must ask you to stay here, until the Lord Commander has given his approval."

The disappointment is difficult to swallow, but she has already struggled too openly in this conversation. If it is a matter of approval, surely Aymeric will give his. She needs only to play the game as it is laid out before her.

Io inhales, then smiles. "May I leave a message with you?"

"Aye."

He passes her ink, quill, and paper. just She quickly scrawls her note and folds it in half once the ink has dried.

"For Ser Varlineau, with a post-script for the Lord Commander. I will not expect haste, but... it would be most appreciated." She places the scrap of paper into Handeloup's waiting hand.

"I will see it delivered," he says with a formal nod. There is a finality about it.

She could wait. But waiting might be considered an overreach, which could be perilous to the image Edmont has painstakingly crafted. Besides, they could be up there for half the day, and she told Saulette this would be back soon. Easier to leave without a fuss.

Midday gives way to early evening, and with it comes a heavier snowfall. The Jeweled Crozier doesn't flinch.

Ishgard's upper echelons (and those vying to join them) trawl the street in search of their next beloved frock, necklace, or hairpin. Treasures they will count as priceless for a single evening, deemed untouchable the following morning, for who could bear the shame of being seen in the same thing twice?

There is another form of commerce in the market, featuring treasures far more valuable, and intangible, than the goods on display in the shop windows. They are all watching, eager to glimpse who stops to chat with whom, who gets snubbed, which debutante praises the broaches at this artisan stall, what tailor the High House sons swear by this week. They trade stories of betrayal and betrothal, laugh at falls from grace in the same breath they lament the fallen. This is foreplay for them, the first sparkling sip of champagne lingering like lace on their tongues before venturing into heavier spirits, as vital as attendance at any charity gala or dinner party.

Io has no interest in being part of their performance, but her refusal to engage must come with a veneer of politeness. She keeps her smile soft, she keeps her head angled just so, away from the oncoming shoppers as she picks her way through the street. Few in this crowd want to speak to her, the anomaly, anyway—at least not here, where her past cannot be recounted as a series of amusing anecdotes over hors d'oeuvres.

She is only here to purchase an unremarkable trinket, some small proof this outing wasn't in vain before continuing back to Fortemps Manor.

An unpopular stall carrying wooden hairpins is her solution. The fashionable Ishgardian favors polished metal and gleaming jewels, neither of which appear on this display. Each pin is ornately carved and richly lacquered to accent the natural pattern of the wood. Io inspects a long, curved pin in the shape of a feather. The barbs are so delicately ridged... her muscles twitch, remembering days spent fletching arrows until her fingertips grew numb, the feel of smooth ash wood and sinew, cut feathers and twine. The work, its memory, moves under her skin.

"You will do," she says, passing her payment to the vendor.

With her task accomplished, she ascends the stairs that lead to the Pillars' residential areas.

"Warrior of Light," a gruff voice calls from behind.

She freezes, breath catching in her throat.

When was the last time she heard (his voice) that title? In hearing it, part of her feels restored. Hope, or something like it, flowers in the hollow of her chest. The shadows move.

With one hand on the balustrade, Io turns.

Estinien stands at the bottom of the stairs. At a glance, he is as gray and severe as the city that surrounds him, but Io has always considered him out of place here. This is no different. The icy breeze jerks at his untucked cotton shirt and loose silver hair, and he cares not what the onlookers at his back make of his appearance. One boot-clad foot is on the bottom step, the other hangs frozen in the air.

He looks... a bit stricken. Soft... His eyes widen, his mouth is open as his breath mists around him. A kind of surprise she's never seen him wear, as if he expected to find himself face-to-face with someone else entirely—he doesn't seem disappointed that he's found her instead.

His guard returns in the moment it takes him to bound up the steps. "Though I've just heard you've earned yet another title... I endure days of Aymeric's fondness for idle chatter, yet he failed to mention your developments." He looks her over in quick inspection, from head to toe, and shrugs. "Do not expect me to call you 'lady.'"

Io grins at him and nods toward the pillars, beckoning him to join her. In place of the hug she longs to give him, it is the best she can do. With Estinien at her side, the walk goes slower.

"If holding back the eighth calamity hinged on that alone, I believe you might let the world fall to ruin."

"Aye." He does not elaborate. "Should I congratulate you?"

His eyes are sharp and searching, the same shade as the darkening sky above, and they bore into her. She feels a question in them, one he doesn't ask. In truth, he doesn't need to.

It is simply: why?

"Gods, no. In six moons, I have had all the congratulations I can bear. You are too late, I'm afraid." Io clears her throat and steers their conversation toward a more interesting subject. "How were your travels?"

Estinien tears his attention from her face to the mountains that surround them. "Educational, as the last year has been," He pauses. Io waits.

They feel out this familiar rhythm, the rests and surges so common in their conversations. Generous spaces where thoughts collect in their own time, the places where meaning hides, waiting to be found. Always followed by something plain and true. It was the same on the road, once they found common ground enough to talk.

"I am not certain they've concluded, but if Ishgard has need of me, I will avail myself a final time."

"Ishgard?" she asks, ignoring the implication he may leave again. "Or Aymeric?"

He dips his head and smiles, a small thing she knows well by now. For a long time, it was the only part of his expression he would allow her—or anyone—to see. "Funny. I suppose I should try my hand at this 'commanding' business, what with being the Commander of the Knights Dragoon."

"Ah, I see that going smoothly." She does a poor job of hiding her amusement. Snow crunches softly underfoot, each step heavier than the last as the Alicorn's peak comes into view.

Estinien snorts as they enter the Last Vigil, "More smoothly than you as a housewife, surely."

She stops. Her pulse rises to her ears for the second time in so many hours. No. She finds the banister with an uncertain hand, propping her elbows on the snow-covered railing. Stay here, Io wills herself, don't go down there. She pushes back against the deafening rush of blood, slowing her inhales until each cold breath is comfortable. It helps to focus on the distant mountaintops haloed in gold from the setting sun, or the calm and cloudy sky above them, touched by the first traces of night.

Her pulse recedes, leaving the world strangely silent. The street lanterns flicker to life on either side of her. She cannot say how long it took to recover this time.

Long enough to leave her wondering if Estinien has left in the wake of her awkward retreat. If she turns around and finds herself alone–

"Io."

His hand falls on her shoulder, heavy. Steady. The last of the dread falls away.

He pries her away from the stone railing, and the unspoken question from earlier remains. But he smiles again, playfully jostling her shoulder until he coaxes one from her too. Io looks around the square; now that the crowd has thinned, she throws her arms around him and squeezes until he shakes with low, rumbling laughter.

"Oh, shut up." She rests her head on his shoulder, arms held tight around his neck. Warmth bleeds through his cold clothes, and he doesn't sway when she leans against him. His arms wrap around her, obscured by her cloak. He squeezes back.

The world threatens to fall away again. Her head buzzes with a new rush—a pleasant one. Instinctively, Io pulls out of it. She steadies herself with a deep breath and releases him.

Estinien drops his arms. There is a crease between his brows. "All right?"

They walk on. "I'm sorry. If you must know, I am a bit jealous of you. Your continued adventures. I haven't adjusted to standing still."

"Easily remedied, no?" Estinien shrugs casually. "We will make our own adventure. Unless you've been chained at the ankle, what keeps you from going where you please, at least for a day? If you want for decent company, well, I cannot claim decency. But we are friends, are we not?"

"Of course we are." Io bumps her shoulder against his. "Alas, the chain is metaphorical, and therefore heavier than you've imagined, and it has everything to do with the title you'd rather ignore."

He crosses his arms, steps slowing as they near Fortemps Manor. "You don't even mean to try?"

"I did not say that. I only meant–"

"Io, dearest! And is that Ser Estinien?" Haurchefant's high, clear voice cuts through her retort. She did not hear the door open, but she certainly hears it shut as he takes the opportunity to join them. "The steward said you were out on errands, but I never expected you to procure such a treasure as the nation's final Azure Dragoon. How are you, my friend?"

Haurchefant extends his hand to Estinien, who clasps his arm with practiced neutrality. Io doesn't miss the tight line of his lips signaling his annoyance at this interruption. For a blessing, this escapes Haurchefant, but there is comfort in knowing she is not the only one hanging to her charades by a thread.

"Fine," Estinien says. His gaze follows the arm he's just released settling around Io's waist. "And if we must go on about rank, 'Knight Commander' is the less abrasive option."

Haurchefant's expression brightens beyond possibility. "You are returning for good then?" In his excitement, his clutch on Io tightens. She breathes deeply.

It isn't always like this. His touch is one of the easier things to bear.

"For now."

"Then I pray we might catch up, though my post occupies the majority of my time. But Io is in residence, and I daresay the two of you would enjoy revisiting your treacherous expedition, or those most glorious of battles at journey's end. Would that my joining you were a certainty, but you need not delay on my account."

Estinien turns away from them, facing Haillenarte Manor and the path he would use to depart. A shoddy attempt to hide his growing grin. "A shame."

Haurchefant's face whips toward Io, and there is a look in his eyes she hasn't seen in moons: interest. Some reminder of her valorous past washes to shore and he desires her.

"Shall we go inside, my dear? I fear my visit here is not an extended one." He speaks only to Io now, in a voice he has barely lowered. Io has no doubt Estinien overhears. Perhaps the boasting is the point.

"Is it ever?" She swallows her sigh, feeling two things equally: grateful for a night of attention, and already eager for his return to Camp Dragonhead. Before he can answer, she sways out of his grasp and towards the manor door. "Goodnight, Estinien," she calls behind her without looking.

"Goodnight Io. Ser Haurchefant." She catches his reply as Haurchefant follows her inside, just before the door closes.

"Ser Varlineau (as I am expected to address you, apparently), Your arrival comes as the most delightful surprise. I expected you to stay away for far longer. Though you neglected to seek me out, I forgive you. And I think you will enjoy the fact I've made a fool of myself in looking for you. Please do come see me. It's been too long. Your friend, Io P.S. Aymeric, must your knights refuse to let me up the stairs?"

—A note found while cleaning the desk of Lord Commander of the Temple Knights.

"–saw him just days ago, in the Crozier of all places. He still cuts quite a brutish figure, but I make no pardons for saying it is a figure I would not mind viewing more thoroughly. A blessing directly from Halone, Herself... Oh, before I forget, are you planning to attend the Manseauguel affair? I simply cannot decide what to wear—"

—Lady Aileve, overheard at a formal Dzemael luncheon

[rabbitr]

FFXIVwrite: 10. stable

"Looking for something?" Aymeric called when Kiht'a poked his head in.

"More like someone," Kiht'a said, ears twitching in the cold. How all these people could stand the bitter winter, he would never get. "Have you seen Haurchefant around?"

Aymeric gave a considering look, one Kiht'a didn't really know how to decipher. "He's likely by the stables." The way he spoke seemed like there was more to be said, but Aymeric only smiled his polite little half-smile.

"Thanks, Aymeric!" Kiht'a cheered, and rushed off. Sometimes people in Ishgard could be weird. Alphinaud didn't think so when he'd brought it up, but Kiht'a thought some of the things Alphinaud did were odd too, so it evened out.

Though, people tended to be a lot stranger on the topic of Kiht'a and Haurchefant.

Luckily, Aymeric's suggestion proved correct. Kiht'a peered over the stable walls into the closed space, comforted by the fact that the small area and many chocobos offered respite from the wind. Haurchefant stood before a beautiful chocobo, stroking its beak gently, and Kiht'a grinned to himself.

"Haurchefant!" he cheered. Kiht'a twined affectionately at the knight's side, tail curling. "I've been looking all over for you."

Haurchefant gazed down at Kiht'a with a soft emotion in his eyes and smiled the smile that Kiht'a loved. Like a sunflower turning to the sun, like gentle oceanbreeze in the summer. "Have you now?" he said, resting an arm around Kiht'a's shoulders. "My apologies! The time crept up on me, though, what business do you require me for?"

Kiht'a churred. "I missed you, that's all," he told Haurchefant. "It feels like we've been apart forever and ever and a day." His parents used that one all the time - on each other, on Kiht'a himself - always forever and ever and a day.

Lanternlight flickered off Haurchefant's eyes, which seemed all of a sudden to have a wet sheen. He spoke quietly and altogether solemnly. "Never to fear, I will always be found."

[lollybunxiv]

♡ LFRP - LOLLY MELODYS ♡

(my WoL carrd ♡)

Lolly was left abandoned as a baby deep in the woods of North Shroud. Luckily, Lolly was found shortly afterwards, with a note by her that read "I'm sorry I failed you", by a woman who had hoped for children but circumstances never made it so, she was taken in by this older miqo'te and raised as her daughter. Though Lolly considered this woman to be her real mother, she yearned to find out more about her past, and so she decided to become an adventurer and study the art of Summoning, hoping that during her travels in the outside world, she may come across any clues that will point her in the direction of who she is and what her background truly is.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

THE BASICS

Name: Lolly Melodys

Age: 26-27

Race: Viera

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Bi/Ace

Marital Status: Dragonsong Reprise TL - With Haurchefant Main TL - Aymeric

Server: Aether/Cactuar

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Hair: pink long hair with white highlights

Eyes: golden

Height: 5'10"

Build: average

Distinguishing Marks: two markings on both of her cheeks

Common Accessories: always wears cute earrings~

PERSONAL

Profession: Summoner

Hobbies: Archery, baking, decorating.

Languages: common

Birthplace: North Shroud

Residence: The Lavender Beds

Religion: n/a

Fears: her friends and loved ones hurting, abandonment

RELATIONSHIPS

Spouse: not married but Dragonsong Reprise TL - With Haurchefant Main TL - Aymeric

Children: no

Parents: n/a

Siblings: she doesn't know of any

Pets: fat cat probably

TRAITS

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between /  Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

HABITS

Smoking Habit: no

Drugs: no

Alcohol: on certain occasions

CHARACTER HOOKS

The Traveller: Lolly is well-known to travel, and very rarely is kept to one place. She meets many different people upon her travels throughout the realm, and is partial to talking to many different people in the places she visits, to learn more about the culture and history of different places in which she's never visited.

Birds of a Feather: Lolly very rarely meets other Viera, and she typically seems to be one of few in the many places she goes. It can lend to feeling out-of-place. If you're a Viera, she'd love to hear all about where you're from and your background.

A Fighter: Lolly is often roped into fighting alongside other adventurers who she doesn't know too well during her times in different places. Maybe she's roped into teaming up with you during one of her many battles?

Getting the Job Done: Other Summoners are a dime-a-dozen it seems, due to the old tradition that they often get led astray from fighting for "good". If you're a summoner, she'll be very interested in getting to know more about you.

Baby It's Cold Outside: Lolly, no matter the timeline, has her ties to Ishgard one way or another. If you're traveling through Ishgard, or are someone from Ishgard yourself, you'll likely cross paths with her.

OUT OF CHARACTER

I'm located in the North-East US.

Prefer to RP through Discord and not really in-game, due to being able to flesh out more details through Discord. Though, I am open to sometimes taking it to in-game.

I'm good if you want to include NSFW, but Lolly is ace, and therefore sexual situations with Lolly is off the table. However, if you want to include it for yourself and another character, maybe an NPC or something, I am fine with that, so long as you don't expect to include my WoL. But reading anything you want to include like that does not bother me.

I would like to write in one main timeline, but I'm good if the timeline is an AU like Dragonsong Reprise or such. I'm okay with steering away from canon slightly, but to base it more in the game, would like to keep it generally to the storyline.

Open to multiple RPs going with multiple RP partners!~

IMPORTANT: I am currently on the beginning of Shadowbringers right now in FFXIV. Have not reached Endwalker YET

[avirael]

FFxivWrite 2024

Day 04 - Reticent

Their trip to the Sea of Clouds could have been wonderful. If not for the company.

It all had started when Alphinaud offered help to Lord Fortemp with some tasks as a sort of payment for letting them stay. Rael had thought it a very good idea too. They never liked being indebted to someone and more importantly they hoped that a change of scenery and something useful to do would help A‘viloh‘s mood a little.

Admittedly the Miqo’te enjoyed their stay in Ishgard more than Rael had expected but after most of the sightseeing was done and with nothing meaningful to do he seems to be more and more bored and disheartened again. While Tataru spent her days talking to merchants and customers at the Forgotten Knight, and Alphinaud and Rael had decided to rummage through the libraries of House Fortemps or the Athenaeum Astrologicum, A‘viloh barely left the warm comfort of the manor and wandered the house with growing impatience. Of course Rael, and also Haurchefant, had tried to find something for A‘viloh to do but none of it had worked out so far.

So the idea of helping Lord Fortemps sons with some duties outside of Ishgard had sounded like a perfect opportunity to Rael. Only the fact that neither of said sons actually reacted in an adequate manner to this proposal was somewhat irritating.

While Artoirel had answered with arrogance and rejection, which visibly hadn’t helped making A’viloh’s insecurities better but still somehow worked out in the end, Emmanellain had simply seen this as his chance to pass his work on to someone else.

Rael hadn’t spoken much yet to the youngest son of Lord Fortemps but already couldn’t help but find him annoying. A‘viloh had taught them not to judge people by first impressions and so Rael had decided to remain as open-minded as possible. But the young Elezen and his rather unique temper really weren’t making it easy for Rael. To them he seemed self-centered, spoiled and lazy but with a habit of poorly hiding all of this behind a thick layer of jokes and false excitement.

“Let’s go, boys! To the airship landing!”, Emmanellain exclaimed and euphorically wrapped his arms around both A’viloh’s and Rael‘s shoulders, pulling them along. Due to the sad circumstance that the young Elezen seemed entirely oblivious to Rael‘s deadly glare, the viera had to restrain themself not to try and break their host’s arm.

The flight to Camp Cloudtop luckily didn’t take too long. It could have been quite an enjoyable journey, the weather was nice and the view beautiful. But of course Emmanellain Fortemps couldn’t keep his mouth shut for more than a minute at a time. He either was bragging about something or complaining about whatever just crossed his mind, preferably his workload or people neither of them had ever met before. Had the flight taken much longer than it did, Rael might have considered to throw him out of the airship and somehow make it look like an accident.

The Sea of Clouds itself was a breathtaking place. Of course Rael hadn’t been entirely wrong with their Nym-hypothesis but never would they have expected flying island of such scale as well as flora and fauna. Not only grew strange colorful flowers and plants everywhere but also some tall trees, strong enough to build treehouses between them. It was worlds away from the lushness and the villages of the Golmore Jungle but it was the first bit of vivid vegetation Rael saw in a while and somehow it still made them feel better. The fact that A‘viloh stared a the flying green islands floating between the clouds with eyes so shining as if he just witnessed a miracle was a welcome bonus for Rael.

So for a short moment the world had been okay.

Then Emmanellain Fortemps once again felt the need to share his opinion and make it everybody else’s problem.

“Awfully cold up here…”, he complained while shuddering in a very exaggerated way. “I mean, Coerthas may not be blessed with the warmest weather in the world, but compared to this, it seems positively balmy…”

Rael didn’t think it was that much colder than Falcon‘s Nest and they were sure A’viloh wouldn’t have noticed but now that it was pointed out…

“It‘s really quite cold. Pretty surprising with all these flowers around don’t you think?”, the Miqo’te agreed and adjusted the scarf around his neck. Rael decided just to shrug for the sake of everybody’s peace and quiet.

Well, quiet of course wasn’t the right word in Emmanellain‘s case.

“Brrr… I am freezing”, he whined. “But of course Rael here is wholly unperturbed. You don’t have to maintain that strong, silent persona all of the time, you know.”

But that’s exactly what Rael did. They stayed silent and hoped that sooner or later (preferably sooner) the scowl on their face would send the right signals to the Elezen. But if Emmanellain Fortemps felt so cold, maybe they should offer some help after all. With a Flare spell maybe… but before Rael could be tempted into action Emmanellain had run off, already changing the topic of his endless jabbering to a certain beautiful Lady, named Laniaitte, he wanted to find.

For pretty much all the time it took to walk to the Rosehouse, the headquarters House Haillenarte had established here, he didn’t stop loudly daydreaming about this woman. To be honest Rael was kind of curious to see the kind of person willingly tolerating Emmanellain for longer than strictly necessary but in the end it turned out that she actually didn’t either.

Laniaitte Haillenarte was Francel‘s sister and just as friendly. To finally be able to meet her brother’s saviors seemed to make her very happy and so she greeted A’viloh and Rael in a very polite and welcoming way.

For the rude interruption of Emmanellain‘s attempts to flirt with her, she didn’t have no patience whatsoever though.

Politely but firmly she rejected him, in a way that even managed to make the young Elezen shut up for a moment. Immediately Rael liked her.

She kindly explained to them the role this outpost had for Ishgard as well as the currently situation, especially regarding an apparently hostile beast tribe of birdlike creatures. Every other remark by Lord Fortemps youngest son was simply ignored. She seemed to have some experience already in dealing with him and Rael admired her for her calmness and patience. Meanwhile the viera just thought the more nonsense the Elezen talked the more punchable his face looked.

Rael remained silent and left most of the talking to A‘vi until at some point Emmanellain spoke to the viera directly.

“Why so reticent, Rael? My dear half-brother often praised you for being so clever. Don’t you have any hypothesis on why the beast man suddenly attacked our people? I am a little disappointed that you don’t live up to Haurchefant’s description.”

Obliviously he grinned while A‘viloh and even Laniaitte seemed highly alarmed by the deadly stare Rael gave him.

“I‘m sorry.”, Rael said way too sweetly. “Please don’t mistake my silence for something it is not. I simply prefer not to talk to —”

Nervously A‘viloh laughed, as if someone just said something horribly funny.

“Sorry! What Rael was trying to say is that it would be unwise to jump to conclusions! It could all just have been a horribly misunderstanding, you know?”

Rael just kept staring viciously and bit their tongue, while even Laniaitte nodded along appeasingly and changed the subject. Instead of more attention Emannellain was given the most simple tasks possible, if only to keep him busy and out of trouble. She managed to make it sound very important though, so he would be motivated enough not to pass all of it on to his poor servant Honoroit.

Fortunately that meant A‘viloh and Rael had some time to explore the area without having to babysit Lord Fortemps son. For a while they just walked wherever it seemed interesting, stopping here and there to look at some especially weird plants, a beautiful view or an unusual creature. Rael made a mental note for themself to later ask Lady Laniaitte about whether or not some of the alchemist had already tested the plants here on their medical abilities, while A‘viloh spotted a strange flying cat and decided to chase it to get a better look at it.

“A‘vi!”, Rael yelled as the Miqo’te got dangerously close to a cliff for their taste. Just that it wasn’t only a slope or ravine beneath them but the endless blue sky and far far below, barely visible through the clouds, the solid ground of Dravania. In Emmanellain‘s case they wouldn’t have minded and probably blamed his own stupidity if an accident occurred but in A‘vi‘s case… “Please don’t step so close to the edge. Believe me or not but that would be a fall you would not survive even with my aid and I doubt Lord Haurchefant will come swooping down from the sky on a flying chocobo to save you this time!”

“Haha, very funny!”, A‘viloh yelled back but decided it was safer to listen to the viera and give up the chase. Instead he came jogging back to Rael, who had sat down to sketch some of the plants into their grimoire. For a second he observed Rael’s work and then lay down in the grass next to them with a deep sigh. „Isn‘t it wonderful here? I told you we‘d have a vacation!“

“Mm-hm…”, Rael only answered, looking up from their sketch to watch A‘viloh staring into the blue sky. He tilted his head towards them and asked, “Don’t you like it here or is it just Emmanellain?”

The viera rolled their eyes and lay down in the grass too in a gesture of exhaustion. “No it’s very nice here. It’s just Emmanellain… He is horrible!”

A’viloh shrugged and chuckled. But before he could dare to say anything in Emmanellain‘s defense a shrill scream appeared. Alarmed they both sat up again and watched Honoroit hurry towards them. Rael realised the poor boy wasn’t to be envied, after all he had to deal with Emmanellain’s nonsense all day, every day of the year. No one could blame him if he finally lost his mind.

“Help!”, he screamed and when he stopped in front of them to catch his breath he looked quite worried. “Master A‘viloh! Master Rael! You need to help me! Lord Emmanellain! He has been taken by the Vanu! They had my lord surrounded - a whole gang of them! Please, you must come quickly!”

“Where?”, Rael simply asked instead of wasting more time with explanations. For all the moments they had imagined to get rid of the annoying young Elezen, they knew better than to have their host‘s son killed on their watch.

Honoroit pointed into the direction he had come from and ran off again.

“So much for our vacation.”, A‘viloh sighed. “Let’s take a look at these birds. I still hope they are just friendly cute creatures, but who knows. Maybe they aren’t and you can take some of that annoyance out on them instead of poor Lord Emmanellain.”

Rael shook their head but smirked.

“I can’t promise he won’t get a little singed in the crossfire…”

[theworldwalkerswols]

WoL/OC Question:

When you first met your significant other, was it love at sight?

Originally via ElysionLeykou, here

For Kyler, with…

Haurchefant, he was, moments into meeting him, utterly relieved they’d found an Ishgardian who was friendly, willing to help with finding the Enterprise. It was so, so easy to become fond of him, when he treated him first like a person, and not a sword. It bloomed easily into affection from there.

G’raha there was a bit of a rocky start, what with the whole ‘voice in the trees’ business. (Kyler threw a knife on instinct, which luckily did not hit him!) He thought Raha was odd, but he was starting to quite like him…before he shut himself in the Tower. It all came flooding back when his hood blew back, after Innocence.

Aymeric, Kyler was somewhat wary at first. He didn’t know what to make of his little speeches about ‘what sort of man becomes the Lord Commander’ and ‘words, deeds, beliefs.’ Having gotten his start in Ul’dah, Kyler was reminded somewhat of the monetarists and merchant princes, the double-talk of moneyed elite. It took a conversation with (only) Haurchefant about what sort of man Aymeric was for Kyler to become intrigued…and then a bit infatuated.

Estinien. Oh, Estinien. Kyler wondered what kind of man was behind the mask of his helm the moment they met, and he was surprised at his volunteering to join the journey to Dravania, but his impressions of him - capability, forthrightness, steadfastness - made him like him, even if he was prickly and blunt. Before the Aery they developed a strong mutual regard and attachment that went unspoken for a long time, a kind of loyalty. Kyler didn’t examine or push, knowing very well that Estinien was a very private, internal person, tending to isolation, but Estinien, in the back of his mind at least, knew. He had become so practiced at crushing his emotions to keep the influence of the Eye in check that he never fully examined the regard he had for one Kyler Drake until much later, but after catching Kyler and Aymeric sharing a bed, he was familiar enough with the shapes of jealousy to know it before he strangled it down. He’d only realize later that he had been jealous of Kyler, of course - but he had been jealous of Aymeric, as well.

BONUS ROUND

Thancred, Kyler tried. He tried so hard not to love him. The man had told him he wasn’t interested in exclusivity or the heart, and Kyler tried so hard to honor that. But he fell anyway. How could he not, when Thancred was the first person to make him feel desirable, who helped him learn his own body and who laughed and joked with and smiled at him like that? And when Kyler admitted it to him, the disappointment, the almost annoyance in his eyes… he rejected him, of course he did, Kyler didn’t begrudge him that. It was the sudden distance that hurt. The being held at arm’s length.

Kyler wouldn’t know until later it was because of Lahabrea. But after getting Thancred back, he needed to recover, and Kyler gave him time and space…and neither ever moved to fill it again.

Not yet.

[neriyon]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers (ू•‧̫•ू⑅)♡

:0 Hello there!

Video games (*^▽^*) Kinda obivious answer since this is mostly a game blog but still. Be it building stuff, playing critically acclaimed oc creator with hours of story, or short little pixel games - you can always find something you like.

Fancy desserts. I have a huuuuuuge sweet tooth haha. Normal desserts are nice too ofc, but there's something special in going to a bakery and seeing some really pretty, well made desserts.

Backstage of a theatre. It's really fun to do all sorts of silly stuff backstage while waiting for your turn haha. I used to work in a local theatre years ago, and had a role in few plays, and while customer service jobs are a pain everything else was really fun.

Npc players - in dungeons especially, but seeing them anywhere is fun. It was what inspired me to make bunny-Hyth and lala-Ryne! All the Haurchefants I've seen, that one really good Urianger player in Dun Scaith, little sprout Ardbert in Stone Vigil, the absolute chaos that was Dynamis on launch: it's fun seeing a beloved npc running around, doing normal game things. And from the interactions with my npc alts I think lots of people feel the same!

Hummm, what to pick... uhhh watching animals do silly stuff? Mostly inspired by currently watching neighbor's dogs go nuts over a hose while he's trying to wash his car lol. I don't have a pet right now, but luckily I can usually watch the 3 floofballs next door playing. Or bother friends for pics of their cats.

[quinn-borel]

[Quinnmeric/Wolmeric Modern!AU. Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.Part 4, Part 5, Part 6]

A/N: This chapter contains NSFW content.

The moment they got into the Kwehber together they knew that the night would be an interesting one, each sitting in silence yet glancing at the other while their fingers were interlaced.  Quinn had taken the initiative to hold his hand once they left the restaurant, and Aymeric happily obliged if only to feel her soft skin against his once more.  He once again felt his heart race in the back of his throat as they awaited their stop, the temptation to lean over and kiss her completely at the forefront of his thoughts.  He wondered if she felt the same–if she, too, wished to simply drop her guard and allow him to indulge.

But such affection was not appropriate inside a stranger’s car, so they continued their vow of silence up until they arrived at the Exarch.  But there was still the matter of getting through the lobby and up the elevator, both of them still in silent agreement that any public display of affection was unwarranted.  But upon the elevator doors closing, Quinn turned to him while tilting her head upwards.  One small peck wouldn’t hurt, right?

Like a swelling dam, Aymeric was fit to burst at that point.  Her gentle kiss made him want more, and had it not been for his upbringing and current status he may have very well made out with her while waiting for the fifth floor.  Yet alas, his lips twitched with need while Quinn retrieved herself and squeezed his hand rather firmly.  Was she aware of the game she was playing with him?  Most likely by the way she smirked and slowly ran her tongue against her upper lip.  He retaliated by releasing his hand from hers, running it along her lower back before resting it on her hip.  He then quickly pulled her towards him with little resistance, to which Quinn mimicked his actions in response.  The lift door finally opened, allowing the intertwined couple to walk almost gracefully towards Aymeric’s room.  Luckily, no one was in the hallway to see them…

And then they crossed the threshold, Aymeric shutting the door behind him while Quinn whipped around and grabbed him by the lapel, pulling him in for a sultry kiss–full tongue and all.  He grasped her waist with his ‘gentle’ hands, gently nudging her away from him so he could remove his jacket.

“Ahh, yes, I’ve missed this room.” she said as she abandoned him and went straight to his bed, plopping onto the edge and kicking her shoes off.  Aymeric chuckled as he draped his jacket over one of the decorative chairs,

“Make yourself comfortable.”

Quinn leaned back a bit, crossing one leg over the other and gazing upon him with a beckoning look in her eyes.  Her alluring gaze drew him in as intended, and the man found himself abandoning his wallet and phone on the night stand so that he could comfortably sit next to her.

“Shall we continue where we last left off?” she cooed, drawing her hand to his tie, “Unless you had something else in mind?”

“By your leave.” he whispered back.  Quinn drew him closer with the gentle tug of his tie, and their lips pressed together once more.  As they met, Aymeric allowed his hands to wander freely as they did before, one palm resting upon her thigh while the other kept him propped up on the bed.  Again, her lips tasted sweet with the lingering hint of wine upon her tongue–something Aymeric wished to drown himself in.  

“I know I said you were gentle,” she breathed, “but you can have a little fun with me.”

Aymeric felt a stir below his belt upon hearing those words–her own words, begging for him to make her his plaything.  But where was he to begin?  That’s when Haurchefant’s words echoed in his memories–acting all sly, but performing like a virgin…

Aymeric closed his eyes and went forward with what felt natural to him, his lips dragging from her own along her jaw and down to the crook of her neck.  The hand that once gently gripped her thigh moved upwards and planted itself against her breast.  

“I want to hear it again…that squeak.” he hummed against her neck.  She obliged him as he put pressure on her, groping her with one hand while gently suckling on her.  He was surprised to find little resistance, mentally noting that she most likely wore the bare minimum underneath that little dress of hers.   Had he the gall, he would reach for the back and begin to unzip it.  However, the man knew better than to tread into the territory of undressing her at such an early stage.  Yet it seemed that Quinn had other ideas as she softly moaned while pulling at his tie.  He released his lips upon her neck with a soft pop, his icy blue gaze falling to the small mark left behind. But he wasn’t done yet, nay, Aymeric nudged Quinn onto her back and continued from there, again kissing her lips before finding a new spot on her neck to leave a mark.

“I don’t suppose you stopped by the drug store today?” she asked with a small smirk.  That’s when Aymeric froze in his spot, heat filling his cheeks as he damned himself for not doing so.  

“Shit.” he muttered, yet Quinn brought both of her hands to his cheeks, forcing him to look her in the eyes,

“Ah ah ah,” she cooed, “at least one of us expected this night to go the way it is…”

His face lit up with a tinge of excitement, yet moreso relief than anything.  Quinn couldn’t help but to laugh as she pulled him in for another kiss, then forcing him to roll over onto his back as she sat atop him.  He looked upon her in awe, yet unable–or rather, unwilling–to explain that he wasn’t expecting her to have sex with him that evening.  But would she believe him when he acted the way he did?  Sly and flirtatious while offering to share a bottle of wine with her in his room?  Anyone with two eyes could see that his inner intentions were to satiate his curiosity of sleeping with someone whom he found a fondness for.  But he wasn’t all to blame, no, Quinn found herself already prepared for the inevitable in his stead.  She wanted it just as much as he did.

“I had a feeling you’d be a little too busy to do so.” she said with a smirk, her hand running itself down from his neck to his chest.  Aymeric swallowed his words of protest–a futile attempt to explain himself when she pinpointed the very reason why he forgot.  Quinn began to pick at the buttons of his shirt, slowly peeling away his top layer as her gaze was drawn to the toned features of his torso.  She noticed his chest heave as her hands touched his bare abdomen, and she finally broke the silence between them with the painful question Aymeric begged her not to ask,

“Is this your first time?”

“Your hands are just cold.” he lied.  Truthfully, his body count was at a solid 1 at that moment.  He had only been with one other person, and that was going on almost a year prior.   To say that he wasn’t nervous to have a sexual relationship again was a tad bit of an understatement.

“Ah, I’m sorry.” she giggled as she accepted the lie, “Just let me know if you’re uncomfortable, alright?”

“I could say the same to you.” he chuckled, his chest heaving once more in relief that she believed him.  He would rather not have to explain to her the intricacies of his sexual past, especially noting that he had not slept with someone of the opposite sex before…

Her hands lingered on his lower torso, which only made him quiver in delight knowing she was just inches from his lower half.  The anticipation was killing him, his hips shifting ever so subtly underneath her if not just to feel an ounce of friction against his length.  She caught on rather quickly and slid off of him as she reached for her purse on the floor.  He knew what she was fishing for, which signaled that it was time to finally remove his trousers.

“If you don’t mind…” his voice trailed off expectantly, his gaze going from the lump between his legs to her bent over the side of the bed, ass in the air as she continued to fish around her bag for a condom.  He certainly couldn’t help but to stare.  

“Not at all.” Quinn replied back as she glanced over her shoulder to catch him staring at her.  His gaze quickly left hers as he made work of his belt and trousers, removing each article with zeal until he was left wearing only his underwear.  Quinn repositioned herself back on the bed with the small packet in hand, her eyes immediately drawn to the thick outline of his cock through his drawers.  He noticed her raised eyebrows as she stared, which caused him a tad bit of concern.

“Is everything alright?”

It was if the sight had left her speechless, though he could see a twitch in her lips…and was that gods damned twinkle in her eye!? He never felt himself that impressive, but apparently this was rather the shock for Quinn.

“Everything is perfect.”

She crawled over to him, yet he stopped her with the gentle press of his lips against hers, his hand falling upon the small of her back,

“Let’s rid you of that dress first.”

Having a newfound sense of confidence, Aymeric reached for the zipper on her dress and gently pulled it down, allowing Quinn to peel the garment off as she retreated from the bed to give him a small show.  She wiggled out of it, and it fell to the floor at her heels.  

Ah, indeed she was not wearing a bra, as he expected…

Speechless, Aymeric reached for her hips, pulling her closer to him.  His lips grazed the soft skin of her abdomen, his hands finding their way to her ass and fingertips tracing the lace of her panties.  

“You are so beautiful.” he breathed as he gripped the suppleness of her backside, “So…fucking beautiful.”

She got back on the bed, straddling him and forcing his hands to her breasts. Following another zealous squeeze, Aymeric released her and planted his mouth against one with his hands going right back to her hips.  Quinn moaned softly and started to thread her fingers through his hair, her hips sensually rocking back and forth as she began to grind against him.

Halone have mercy…

After a few moments of suckling, he released her—their eyes meeting with a tense stare as both of them were rather breathless.  Hungry.  Needy.  Quivering with anticipation.  Chests aflame with desire.  Quinn cupped his cheeks in her palms once more,

“Let me put it on for you.” she whispered.  Aymeric swallowed, gave her a nod of approval, and leaned back.  From there she yanked his shorts down, allowing his cock to finally break free of its prison.  Again, the look of surprise was blatant on her features.  With a soft exhale, she abandoned him and went back to her purse,

“I thought your manspreading was just an act of dominance,” she explained with a soft chuckle, “But now I know what you had hiding all this time…”

“What I...” his words left him once more, and he could only awkwardly chuckle in return.  Quinn came back with a different condom in hand,

“This one will be more comfortable for you.”

Did she really…bring a bigger size in anticipation?

Aymeric shook the thought from his mind in an attempt to redirect the mood back to what it was before the ‘big reveal’.  However, he couldn’t help but to be a little self-conscious about how he normally sat…

“You’re so cute.” Quinn hummed playfully as she removed the rubber from its package.  Red in the cheeks, Aymeric sat back with trained eyes on her as she performed the act–a gentle jerk of his shaft to get him nice and firm before she began to unravel the condom over his length, “There we go…how does it feel?”

“Fine.” he breathed, “Now…I want you to lay down on your back…”

She appeared rather receptive to his demands, smiling with warm cheeks with her hands slowly going to her thigh highs, to which Aymeric cleared his throat in response,

“Keep those on…”

“Yes, sir.” she purred, dropping only her panties and crawling onto the bed to lay down before him.  He approached her carefully, slowly parting her legs just enough to fit himself between them.  He felt his heart nearly burst from his chest, yet he forced himself to keep his sly smile–anything to make it seem like he was in control, though he very much had his doubts.  Especially when it came to parting her legs and seeing the soft pink flesh of her cunt just waiting for him.  Begging.  

It’s not so different…you’ll do just fine...

With a harsh exhale and a sharp inhale he nudged himself into her–inch by inch, all while watching her expression in case she felt discomfort.  Nay, her eyes lit up once more along with her cheeks.  Her brow furrowed and lips parted as she gasped at his touch.  Both of Quinn’s hands found Aymeric’s locks, tugging them gently as he filled her.  A staccato moan left his throat–how wonderful it felt to be inside of her.  So warm, so tight, so pleasurable in every sense.  It had been so long…too long…

The feeling was most welcome again.

As he filled her to the brim he buried his face into the crook of her neck, into her hair, taking in her scent and her sounds and the feeling of her nails digging into his scalp.  He wrapped his arms around her, pushing himself into her, listening to the way she gasped and moaned his name.  His teeth grazed her ear as he began to pound himself into her, his words so faint that they may have not met her over her own noises,

“I adore you, Quinn…”

He meant it, though. Even if she didn’t hear him, he meant it.  But she didn’t respond how he expected, though he did notice her grip loosen on his hairline and eventually fall to his shoulders.  Her nails plunged deep into his skin, causing the man to wince yet at the same time fueling him to continue his pace.  

“Harder.” she demanded, breathless, “Fuck me harder.”

He had zero hesitation in bending to her will, the force of his thrusts causing the stable bed beneath them to quake.  His hands were planted firmly against the headrest as he watched her whole body shake with each thrust–she moaned behind gritted teeth, her nails still stuck firm against his skin.  But the pain was nothing compared to the pleasure they both felt, each of them smiling at the other as they did the deed.  

It didn’t take long before Aymeric was riding his high, eyes closed as he felt his pulse quicken before his hips came to an abrupt halt.  His whole body vibrated with delight, his jaw clenched as he spilled his all into the condom.  A low moan followed, signaling his finish.  Quinn squeezed him between her thighs, a look of satisfaction painted upon her visage as their eyes met.  She grinned widely, disheveled with a bead of sweat rolling down her cheek,

“Holy shit,” she whispered, “Aymeric…”

“Yeah?” he huffed, trying to catch his breath, “You alright?”

“Better than.” she giggled, “You outdid yourself.”

With a sigh of relief, Aymeric removed himself from her and made the awkward trip to the trash bin to dispose of the remnants of their lovemaking.  When he turned back to the bed, Quinn had already pulled the comforter over herself and curled up to one side, leaving little blanket for himself.  Yet he didn’t care, if anything he found it adorable that she nuzzled up so quickly after sex.  

“Are you still with me?” he asked with a chuckle, shutting the light off in the room.  Quinn hummed a bit to show that she hadn’t fallen asleep just yet, but she chose to stay still in her cocoon.  Aymeric plopped down on the opposite side of the bed with his eyes trained on the ceiling.  He took a moment for himself to realize what had just transpired, again lingering on the thought that he had only known Quinn for a few days.  It all felt unreal to him, if not out of character of him.  Yet when he looked over at the curled up lump beside him, he couldn’t help but to feel a warmth well up in his chest.

“Hey…”

He glanced over at the ball of blanket that spoke to him, noticing two eyes peering from the top of it, “Yes?”

With hesitation in her voice, she asked, “…do you mind if…we cuddle?”

He parted his lips to answer, but no words seemed to leave him when the question at hand was…why would she ask?  Naturally, he wanted to.  Without a word he gently patted his chest to invite her in.  Quinn slowly scooched over to him, planting her head against his pectoral and sliding her arm around his torso.  

“Comfy?” he asked.  She could only nod before it seemed that sleep took her, for not another word left her for a long while.  Aymeric ran his hand through her hair and pressed his lips to the top of her head.

Although it was dark, he could see a soft smile pull at her lips.  

[jefarawol]

We went straight to Dragonhead. Tedalgrinche was already waiting fornus with not only his Dzemael knights but ones from Durendaire. Luckily, we would be able to bolster our ranks with those of House Fortemps. Sadly, however, Haurchefant was not present. He would not have hesitated to join us had he been in the camp that day. It was a shame, I was missing him terribly.

They explained the tournament to me and, to my delight, found it similar if not a small version of my homelands Nadaam. My apa's tribe never participated, and I was exiled from my anya's. It was an honour I never had a chance to take part in.

With my anya's stories of conquest at the forefront of my mind, I took to the field and showed those Dzemael rats how it was done.

Congratulations, machinists: you have proven yourselves not entirely without merit. House Dzemael will gladly welcome your inclusion in House Haillenarte's next company of reinforcements.

Aye, your novel toys confounded my knights and won you this game of flags. I would see, however, how you fare against adversaries who seek not to break your standard...but to spill your life's blood.

He was bitter, but some people will always be a sore loser. At least that was thr last I would see of him for some time. I was eager to celebrate the victory with Lord Stephanivien, and pleased too, that his father remained true to his word.