#Ready Set Exedra | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

autumnslance · 4 years ago

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((Shadowbringers 5.3-5.4. I wanted to have this done by the 15th of January but didn’t quite manage it because these two idiots are wordy as heck, and I initially started in the wrong place and POV. I wrote roughly 8000 words total and only ended up using half of them. There are letters and pining and admitting things happening here.

Below the cut as usual for those who prefer Tumblr to Ao3, but the formatting may work better on that site.))

Aeryn stepped through the mirror and into the familiar space of the Ocular, taking a moment to reorient herself after the rush of journeying between worlds. Once the vertigo had passed she left the Tower, the Crystarium guards greeting her as she crossed the Exedra. It took some questioning before she was finally pointed to where Ryne was currently; training with Captain Lyna just outside the city gates.

She simply watched for a time as Lyna tried to keep her distance while Ryne tried to close in. Aeryn did not announce herself, simply noting how Ryne’s bladework had improved, at least one new trick learned since the last time Aeryn had watched her fight.

“That is enough for now,” Lyna said as they reached a breakpoint in their dance. “And the Warrior of Darkness has waited long enough,” she continued with a wry smile in Aeryn’s direction.

Ryne started, then turned with a grin, hurrying over to give Aeryn a hug. “It’s good to see you! Oh sorry, I’m all sweaty…”

Aeryn laughed, brushing damp strands of hair from Ryne’s reddened face. It was still winter in Eorzea, but in Norvrandt spring was on the horizon and the morning was warm. “Not to worry. Hope you don’t mind the interruption.”

Lyna waved them off. “Go on; we can catch up later.”

Aeryn nodded, knowing the captain wanted word of her grandfather, and G’raha had given Aeryn a small package to deliver, but that would wait until Lyna was off duty and had readied herself. There was an order to such things with the stoic woman.

Instead, Aeryn turned back to Ryne and smiled. Had she gotten taller? “I have a question, if you’ll indulge me.”

“Of course!” Ryne answered as they walked across the bridge into the city. “What is it you need?”

“I have a note from Thancred; he and Urianger are currently on a mission, but he left me instructions for tod--well. The day it is back on the Source.”

“I see. What are the instructions?”

“I’m to ask you about the black willow box he kept in his room here.”

Ryne paused, a little sharp breath escaping. “Ryne?” Aeryn asked.

“Sorry! It’s just I was under strict instruction never to open the box, though I have the key now, of course; I still didn’t dare. It’s where he kept,” she hesitated.

“Kept what?”

“I’ll show you; it’s a good thing--I think--that he wants you to see. Come on!” Ryne dashed toward her apartment as if she hadn’t just completed a long practice session with the captain of the guard. Aeryn picked up her own pace to follow along after.

It did not take long for them to reach the apartment Ryne used to share with Thancred. As the girl opened the door, Aeryn realized it was the first time she had returned to these rooms since the Scions’ departure from the First. It was much as she remembered, though lacking Thancred’s continued presence. Evidence of Gaia’s frequent visits were visible instead, from lipstick-stained coffee mugs at the sink to dark ribbons left on an end table to a book that did not seem to be to Ryne’s taste on a sofa cushion.

Ryne paused in front of the door that had led to Thancred’s small room. “I haven’t been in here since,” she trailed off, shaking her head. “Gaia and Taynor sorted most of it, actually, so only a few personal things remain. I should probably move to a smaller suite to let someone else use the space…”

“Maybe you need a roommate,” Aeryn suggested. “Perhaps Gaia could stay with you.”

Ryne reddened. “We’ve considered it, but I’m just…” She gave a helpless little laugh as she shrugged, looking up at Aeryn apologetically. “I’m just not quite ready, I think. It’s silly, but there’s a part of me that keeps hoping they’ll find a way--a safe way--to return. Even just for a little while.”

Aeryn squeezed Ryne’s shoulder. “It’s not silly,” she said quietly. “And I keep hoping that, too. Fairly certain Y’shtola has it at the top of her projects list.”

Ryne laughed, truly this time. “She would!” She looked at the door again. “The box should be on the shelf above the writing desk,” she offered Aeryn a small key. “I’ll let you see for yourself.”

Aeryn nodded, taking the little key and entering the room.

It was familiar, yet unfamiliar. Always small, it had kept from being cramped mainly by virtue of Thancred’s own minimalist tendencies with his added reluctance of accumulating things on the First that he would have to leave behind in the end. Even so, the room felt barren, many necessities and items missing, given away to be used by others in need among the Crystarium’s residents; naught went to waste while still usable.

The bed was neatly made; her eyes lingered for a moment, recalling a handful of pleasant times curled up together in it. They had often met in her own chambers for privacy, especially when feeling the need for more than simple closeness. There was a bench under the shuttered window; he used to clean his gunblade there, storing materials and parts in a chest beneath the bench. Nothing remained but the seat.

The writing desk was really a tall square table, a stool for the chair, in a corner of the room. Two simple shelves hung on the wall above it, some of Thancred’s personal effects that remained neatly placed upon them. The black willow box was a simple but lovely piece of old Nabaath make. It was familiar only in that it was a part of the room, always upon the shelf above the desk, a background decoration.

She had to stretch a little to pull the small box down. She unlocked it, pondering what it could contain for one last moment before opening the lid to find out.

Neatly folded pages, Thancred’s familiar handwriting covering them, five different bundles marked by Vrandtic dates in Eorzean lettering. The earliest one was dated five--no, six years ago now, in the midst of Thancred’s first year in this world, just after the Vrandtic new year. The second bundle was dated a year later. Then the third, then a fourth. The final bundle broke the date pattern, written...She shivered. The dates would have been the time after they assaulted Mt Gulg and before seeking Emet-Selch and the Exarch in the Tempest, when she had lain in a Light-induced fever for days in between.

All of the letters, long and detailed, were addressed to her.

Aeryn carried the box to the window and opened the shutters, letting in the natural light of day. She sat at the bench, picked up the first letter, and began to read, brows already rising at the first line.

My Dear Aeryn,

It’s been roughly half a year, to me, since I arrived in this world. We search for a means to send me back, but given the dangers, it’s difficult to say if we shall ever be successful. I hold onto hope, given we have made the impossible happen more than once—particularly when you are involved.

I know so much less time is passing for you, even as time is difficult to track beneath the eternal Light, but the people still mark the hours and days as best they can--perhaps better than we do in the Source, reliant as we are upon the sun and stars. So as the calendar year turns to a new page, I find myself confronted by reminders of you at every turn, my own mind noting the dates, as if counting down to your nameday in truth.

Violas grown in the Hortorium call to mind your favored hair decoration and your scents carried with it. The heather meadows and clear mountain springs of Il Mheg make me think of the taste of your magic. Treasure hunters in Mord Souq unearth duelist rapiers reminiscent of your combat style. The grey waters of a lake, shifting in color and tone under the burning sky, remind me of your eyes and ever-shifting moods.

I think of our new situation, how fragile it all still seems, our duties as Scions, the distance between Ala Mhigo and Doma keeping us apart more often than I liked. Especially after already having denied my own interests for far longer than I care to admit.

I fear now, not knowing when I may return to your side--in whatever capacity--that I am forgetting important things, and I very much do not want to. So indulge me as I list your various qualities that I admire, to remind myself why I allowed myself to maintain my impossible infatuation for so long, even as you became one of my dearest friends...

Aeryn eyes widened as she turned to the next page, then quickly checked the several pages following; Thancred had indulged his bardic habits, writing in verse and engaging in wordplay. Even the most innocent descriptions and memories of moments together, professional and extremely personal, were laden with puns and innuendo--not entirely unexpected from him.

She was mostly through the verses, trying to parse every dedicated line, when a knock at the door startled her.

“Aeryn?” Gaia called. “Everything all right?”

She cleared her throat. “Fine; I’ve quite a bit of reading to do, though; I may need some water.”

The door opened, Gaia appearing with a tray already in hand. “Ryne thought you might--are you all right? You’re redder than I have ever seen, and that’s saying something.”

Aeryn pressed a hand to her warm cheeks. “I’m fine. Just...wasn’t expecting some of what I found so far.”

“Is that good or bad?” The girl asked, setting the tray on the nearby side table in easy reach. There was a small tea service and also ice water, bless them.

“It’s...Better than good,” Aeryn replied. “I may be awhile, though.”

Gaia shrugged in her nonchalant, pretending-not-to-care way. “Doesn't matter to me, but I was going to drag Ryne out for a while, just so you know. You’ll be fine here by yourself--won’t you?” A little genuine care came through in the last two words, despite her attempts to seem otherwise.

Aeryn nodded.

“All right. Enjoy your reading, and we’ll see you later.” Gaia gave a little wave before leaving, quietly closing the door behind her.

Aeryn cleared her throat again, sipping the cup of minty green tea--bless those girls again--and set the first letter aside for now. She would get back to that later; alone in her own room, where she could bury her face in a pillow and shriek like a schoolgirl when overwhelmed by his words, godsdamn him. For now, the second bundle had her curious.

My Dearest Aeryn,

I almost let the date slip by, I am ashamed to say. So much has happened in recent weeks...

She read through two pages of his recounting Minfilia’s story and the reincarnations that had followed, offering a small hope to Norvrandt; of Urianger and Y’shtola’s arrival, his anger at the spell’s failure and yet relief at seeing Urianger again; and their shift in focus upon learning of the Eighth Umbral Calamity.

...Urianger’s vision of the Calamity, of our deaths, is a sobering thought. The idea of you fallen especially freezes my blood. I cannot bear the thought.

So I redoubled my efforts to rescue the girl bearing Minfilia’s name and appearance. She sleeps now on a cot in this Mord town as I write. She can’t be more than twelve or thirteen summers; a frail little thing with no skills aside from reading books thicker than she is, and asking innumerable questions. They taught her nothing, simply locked her in a windowless cell under the waterline. For at least ten years, that is all the child’s known. If the fate Urianger saw for us makes my blood freeze, her situation makes it boil again. Should I chance to meet Eulmore’s General--the man responsible for her “care”--I will let him know exactly what I think.

Tomorrow Minfilia and I shall attempt to reach Nabaath Areng, the site of the Flood’s halting; the girl says she must go there, as if pulled. I have a hope I dare not voice yet. The Blessing of Light does work in such interesting ways.

But that is on the morrow; tonight, though a day late, I wished to write to you as I did last year. With the date in mind you have also been in my thoughts--when I’ve had a moment to think, at least--and I find myself recalling more and more often the little things. Simple things. Things I fear I may forget, having been here for years now, years without the way you tilt your head when you have a question. It initially annoyed me actually, you were so quiet but now, gods I would give much to be in your silence again, to see that quizzical look. Anything to see the little furrow between your brows when you’re thinking. When you prop your chin on your hands as you stare out a window, tea forgotten in your hand. How you unconsciously wriggle and make faces as you read, reacting to the pages, lips silently moving as you devour each word...

“Oh I do not,” Aeryn muttered--realizing in the same moment that she was doing that now. She sipped her tea and kept reading, noting how he wrote, as much as what; the moments where he had scratched out words, or underlined others. The splots where the pen had sat on the page a moment longer than normal as he thought of what he wanted to admit to. The way the letters slanted in places where he was eager. There was no poetry this time, fewer puns and word play. He had written when tired and possibly injured, given the shakiness of some lettering.

There were places where he couldn’t remember clearly--what perfume had she worn on the day of a particular memory? Was she wearing her red coat, or a blue dress in another? He wasn’t certain.

The letter wrapped up several pages later.

...I must get some sleep, given the long trek across the Amber Hills awaiting. I don’t know what will happen when we arrive, but whatever it is, I’ll keep the girl safe. Taking care of her is the only thing I can do, lacking the skills of the Exarch and our colleagues. Particularly now that we have abandoned the idea of going home--yet. I still don’t know how I feel about that, having struggled to find a way back for so long now, but there must be a home to return to. To save ourselves, we must save this realm. Forgive me; as much as I yearn to see you again, I wish for you to live far more. Despite everything, I still remain

Yours, Thancred.

Aeryn drew in a sharp breath; the previous letter’s signature had been much simpler, after all the floweriness of the verses. This simpler, newsy, reminiscent letter had such a different feel to it, so much changing for him in that year. Her eyes kept drifting to that closing.

It took a few moments before she was able to refold that bundle and open the next.

His next year in the First; this one another detailed description of events he survived, and quite a lot about Ryne, still only known as Minfilia at the time.

...I actually began this letter yesterday, as we rested in a small inn at the edge of the Greatwood. I thought of seeking out Y’shtola, but am unfamiliar with those dark and twisting paths, and was low on ammunition. Minfilia was exhausted, unable to fight or imbue cartridges, and I won’t risk her more than our constant travels already do.

It was she who reminded me that I had been writing, before she made me take my rest as well. I’ve never told her about these letters, but she’s a bright girl and I have told her of you. Sometimes it’s simply because she is curious about you, and the hope that you’ll come here and save yourself, as well as the rest of us. Many times though I don’t mean to say anything, but the stories simply come, like a slumbering spring awoken by new rains, bubbling up and overflowing the riverbanks.

It’s something about her, I suppose, that makes me remember, and so I must speak before the memories fade back into the dustier corridors of my mind. Perhaps an effect of her unique Blessing? Or perhaps simply her childish curiosity drawing it out of me.

There’s a selfish part of me that wants you to meet her. It would mean that you’re here, for one, but also I think you two would get along. She’s a good girl--with her moments of petulance and stubbornness, as many youths are wont, but she’s come such a long way already, has learned so quickly.

I fear influencing her. The choice she must make is so important, and it must be hers. You would be a much better role model; you inspire others to do what’s best simply by your presence. I’ve felt the lack of you more keenly this last year than ever before...

Aeryn read through, noting he wrote it more like a conversation she had yet to answer. Memories of their adventures and companionship were woven through the words more naturally as he spoke to her. She smiled as he spent a good chunk of the letter not even realizing how he had gushed about Ryne and all she had learned and how she had grown in that first year they spent together, as if he were trying to ensure Aeryn would love the child as much as he so obviously did--even if the foolish man hadn’t been able to tell the girl so until it had almost been too late.

But then, that was Thancred; locking his thoughts and feelings behind stoicism, snark, and literally in a box on a shelf.

She traced her nail along the letters of his name--again signed “Yours”--before tucking that bundle away and picking up the fourth.

By this time the twins were somewhere in Norvrandt, though Thancred had no opportunity to see them as Eulmore’s hunters were ever close. He wrote to Aeryn of his frustration with how many Scions had come to the First but she was still so far away and still in so much danger, alongside the rest of the Source and this shard itself. If she couldn’t come to Norvrandt to break the Light’s hold over the realm then the girl would have to make her choice sooner rather than later--and perhaps face the same fate as all of her predecessors.

He admitted that he feared both of those outcomes. He seemed to have begun to cross out that line, but had stopped himself.

...A nasty part of me believes you will never receive these nameday letters. That these are simply my way of remembering yet another important woman in my life I will never see again. I try not to dwell on such thoughts, try to keep busy, but you know me. Perhaps better than anyone since our Minfilia. How I wish I could speak with you again; patrolling through Mor Dhona, lunch at Rowena’s cafe, stargazing on the roofs of Ala Mhigo, reading in the Waking Sands’ dusty library. Simply holding you until we fall asleep, those few, rare moments we had. You always made me say more than I ever meant to; you’ve a way of drawing me out despite myself—and failing that, of simply being there as a brilliant, warm presence.

There are places here I want to show you, things I want to share. Yet I fear your coming, what it will mean. What changes I’ve experienced. What we had was...comfortable, and felt right, after so long, and yet it was still so new and fragile. I used to be confident in my ability to be delicate, but these last few years with this girl have made me feel boorish and clumsy. And I know I have changed, not just because of her, but everything in this hard world. Will you recognize me when we meet? Will you still want me, when you were already so uncertain before?

I suppose I shan’t know until you’re here, or we find a way home. Given the Exarch’s record, the former seems more likely. And it still worries me, much as I know it’s the better course to preserve all we hold dear...

Aeryn stared out the window for a long moment; she had known of his doubts, his fears; when she had arrived and finally found him again, it had been difficult. Yet despite everything, they had gotten past it.

She eyed the final bundle, slimmer than the rest, those dates seeming so heavy though she had no conscious recollection of them, given her state at the time. Having finished the tea, she poured a glass of water and began to read.

Aeryn,

Ryne assures us you will still be Aeryn when you wake; her wards hold for now. I pray long enough to find a cure for what those bastards did to you. What we did to you, unknowing. Will you be pleased to know I have not struck Urianger for his part? I was too tired and injured as we returned, and occupied with carrying you besides. Now I simply am too weary in heart and mind to conjure that initial anger, and he has had time to explain how the Exarch coerced him into his confidence.

I am still not happy about it.

For five years I waited to see you again, thought about you through many days and most nights--such as they are, here. It’s funny what one can become accustomed to in time. Finally seeing you again was a jolt to every one of my senses as the missing you had long since become more real to me, much as I longed for your presence.

And as I feared, you hesitated. I don’t blame you; I know this place changed me. What we had back home was still so new, despite the prior years we had known each other. So I tried to be content to merely be in your company once more. We had rebuilt our friendship once, we could do it again. I had been a fool to think I deserved more.

Then you sought me out in Rak’tika. Do I need to tell you how you intoxicated me that day? I hope I was a comfort, both in words and in the release you needed. The distance still felt too great, but this much, at least, I could give. I thought it would be enough, to simply be what you needed in the moment.

I know now that I was once again fooling myself.

These last few months traveling and fighting and just being together have been a strange mix of stress and relief; our mission had been dangerous and difficult in so many ways, and yet working together, it was hard not to get caught up in the optimism, in the feeling that things would turn out, that we would find a way.

And you were here; your quizzical headtilts, your faces when you read, the white flowers in your hair. Your silences, your laughter, your strength in combat and your helping with every common chore in the vicinity. I thought I could simply be happy to bask in your steady light.

But now, seeing it tear you apart, it is not enough; it never was, and never will be. I can live with it, should that be your wish. My wish, however, is to continue what we had once begun. To hold you close not only occasionally but always.

Aeryn felt a hard lump in her throat; there was a decent space between the lines, the ink thick where he had hesitated, the initial letters shaky. Still he had written them:

I am in love with you, Aeryn.

It’s taken me time to collect myself after rereading what I just wrote and fighting the urge to burn the whole page. A part of me fears that you will scoff, though the greater part of me knows--hopes--better of you.

And the gods know you deserve better than me, but if you’ll have me, I certainly won’t complain.

I know after everything with Ryne I ought to say it to you aloud. That it may already be too late to do so. I pray that isn’t the case. I pray I find the courage and the words both to say what you deserve to hear. Even should you never reciprocate; if that should be the case, you shall never hear another whisper from me on the matter.

But I hold out a small hope, that you will, that you do. That we will have the chance to discuss the matter further. That you survive.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. I only know I’ll be at your side until the end; there’s nowhere else I can be.

Ryne is calling; hold on just a little while longer, darling.

Yours always, Thancred.

She covered her face with her hands, emotions and memories flooding over her. There were words before finally confronting Emet-Selch in his memory of Amaurot. More than words on returning to the Crystarium, bodies twined together in relief and comfort.

Then she had returned to the Source to report their success. She came back to the First as quickly as she could, though; not only was there still much work to do, but he was here, and things were...not exactly different, but not quite the same, either.

As she reread the last page, she noticed a swiftly written addendum on the back. She turned it over.

I carried these letters all the way to the Tempest, thinking if I failed to say anything I might at least give them to you--they are yours, after all. But of course no time seemed right, and with a screwing of my courage (and pointed prodding from Urianger), at the last I was able to say what I wished. Miraculously, you said it too.

And now here we are, you peacefully asleep while the night sky wheels overhead and I still hear the celebrations outside despite the ungodly hour. I’ll rejoin you in a moment, but I needed some time to attempt to process the last few days. What happened in the Tempest. The fact you’re alive, and healthy, and claim to love me in return.

I’m not entirely certain why, but I won’t complain, either.

Rereading these letters, I’m not sure I’m quite ready to hand them over yet. They’ll return to their box for now, and perhaps in a few days I’ll be ready to show you.

Aeryn laughed lightly; of course he had hesitated to share them. The letters showed all his vulnerabilities behind the serious, confident facade he had developed. And with everything in the Empty, and then Elidibus, it was no wonder the letters had fallen to the wayside.

Until her actual nameday on the Source had come around, his note delivered with her breakfast by Tataru per Thancred’s instructions while he was on his latest reconnaissance. It wasn’t as if he could have brought the letters with him, after all--nor given them to her in front of the rest of the Scions in the Ocular, nevermind how public their relationship was now.

She rubbed her face--she had cried more than a few times while reading--and replaced the letters in the box. She locked it, and pocketed the key.

The girls were still out so it was no trouble to take the tea service to the sink and clean it, along with the other dishes, giving her time and activity to settle. She finished by washing her own face, removing some evidence of her emotion.

Since the first year she had joined the Scions, they had given each other gifts; she had discovered his nameday from Minfilia, gifting him the orchestrion roll of a song she knew he liked from a favorite minstrel. Her own first nameday as a Scion had been missed due to Lahabrea and Baelsar’s schemes, but Thancred was certain to make up for it. Sometimes they were late, or even early, but they always managed a little something, even as friends.

Aeryn took the box with her as she left Ryne’s apartment. She still had a few people to see while here on the First--starting with Lyna and the messages from G’raha--but then she would retire to her own suite in the Pendants and do a bit of rereading.

And maybe a bit more once she returned home, too; after all, if she timed it right, it would still be her nameday, and the best time to reread her present.

#Final Fantasy XIV #Lyn Writing #Shadowbringers #Thancred Waters #Thancred x WoL #Shippy Nonsense #Aeryn Striker #Pining

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lambs-rest · 3 years ago

Text

Echoes of a Fallen Star

Track: Uta Yo - Kaho Nakamura (Spotify | YT)

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The return to the Crystarium was one of relative silence and introspection. It didn’t last, once they entered the Exedra. Crafters, guards, labourers and healers all gathered in a crowd, each cluster resembling some sort of order as they milled about, eager to meet with the leaders of their professions. G’raha stood at the front of it all, watching, tension in his face. When he spotted them, he forced a smile.

“Dare I ask what’s going on?” Alphinaud said, keeping a wary eye on the people as they met off to the side. Perhaps Elidibus had made a second pass at the Crystarium?

“The vast majority of those gathered here are presently in the employ of the guard, or else one of facets…and no longer wish to be so.”

Granye had to double take at his words. “What? Why?”

She had dabbled in work at the Mean several times, and found it easy to do business with them. The pay was fair and the folks in charge had been friendly enough. And the guard. How could so many of them want to leave? Surely they knew that Lakeland was still in need of protecting, even without the threat of Vauthry and sin eaters?

G’raha looked at her tiredly. “We have the ‘Warrior of Light’ to thank for this. Apparently, he is quite the inspiration.”

Granye wrinkled her nose in disdain and folded her arms. “If they knew half the shite a ‘Warrior of Light’ goes through, none of ‘em would be so eager to leave their jobs.”

“We’ve managed to convince most of them to postpone their resignations until others can be found to take the vacant jobs. In principle, all are free to change vocation at any time – but a city does require a certain number people in these positions if it is expected to function.”

Of course. The fewer hands to made goods, the less there would be to trade. The fewer guards, the more inhospitable the surrounding lands. She had to wonder if it was all part of Elidibus’ grand scheme. Knowing full well how cunning Ascians were in general, she wouldn’t be surprised to find that the case.

But still, why was he so pressed to inspire them, and under the Warrior of Light mantle nonetheless? Elidibus was unlike his comrades, no matter what he told them to think. Maybe that’s why they were having such an impossible time figuring him out…

“It’s you! The Warrior of Darkness!”

She almost jumped at the sudden call that interrupted her thoughts. When she looked to find the speaker, she recognised the Galdjent in his red-cloaked Crystarium tabard, and his Hume friend in blue. Lyna noticed them peel from the Crystarium guards who were planning to resign, and Granye was not oblivious to the muted disappointed in her expression.

The duo approached her, Vonard nodding. “You understand, don’t you? Someone’s going to have to look after this place once you’re gone. We just want to be ready to do our bit when the time comes.”

Theyler nodded in agreement. “And not only here, but everywhere! Which is why we’ve got to get out there and lend a hand to those in need.”

It was hard, to look at their eager, well-meaning faces and feel the words well up inside her.

“I’m sorry, but I dinnae agree with ye.”

There was a moment of silence in their group. G’raha’s ears pricked, startled. Vonard and Theyler stared, shocked, disbelieving of what they heard. Granye’s face scrunched as she struggled to find the right words.

“I’s nae that folk dinnae need the help. But if everyone decides to become adventurers, what’s s’posed to happen to the folks left behind? The Crystarium’s only as safe as it is because o’ the guard. It only managed to rival Eulmore because o’ folk like the traders an’ crafters who suddenly want to leave. Someone like me can help with irregular threats, or the little things here an’ there – that’s how I started, really. But I started at all because I had no-one who counted on me to stay.”

She huffed and shook her head. “If yer set on it, fine. But I just hope yer nae doin’ this because ye want to be heroes. Crystarium folk wouldnae be free an’ safe if it wasnae fer guards like you lot. Guards, if I remember ye sayin’ just the other day on the road, that’re already too thin to run proper patrols. If ye just want to help folks, then take a good look at where yer really needed, an’ go from there.” Granye nodded her head over them, towards the resigning flock. “Ye ken the Crystarium better’n I do. Ye tell me what’ll happen if everyone who wants to leave does, all at once, right now.”

Thelyer glanced back, seeing the faces of men and women he knew and spoke to every day. He knew their roles, where they worked, who they were.

Thoughts of a derelict Crystarium flashed through his mind: gleaming crystal sheets missing from their panes, shattered. Unkempt plants, running wild from the plots at Sweetsieve and the Hortorium. Broken gates of the Rookery, swinging open on rusted hinges…

“…Where I’m from, adventurer’s are so common, there’s even a guild that spans three states for em. Think of an area from the Greatwood to Kholusia! But I’ll tell ye right now, I’ve never found a place as peaceful and safe as the Crystarium, and it isnae heroes or adventurers who make it so.” She leaned to one side, brows pushing together when she saw their dampened spirits.

“I ken i’s nae what ye want to hear, ‘specially from me.” Granye offered. “But believe me when I say the Crystarium’s nae the only place where people suddenly want to leave. I’s easy to look at a place like Sullen or Wright an’ think one good deed can make things better. Sometimes it can. But a town or a city’s nothin’ without good folk to keep it safe and runnin’.”

She reached out and clapped the now brooding Vonard on the shoulder, prompting him to look at her. “Look. Give it a shot. I willnae say it’s a terrible life. But if it dinnae work out, dinnae force yerselves to keep on it. Think about comin’ back, or even settlin’ down somewhere else ye really feel like yer needed there.” Granye looked from Vonard down to Theyler and smiled. “I will say, yer already smarter’n me when I started.”

The Hume shared a look with his friend. “How?”

“Yer headin’ off together. Ye ken how long it took me to find this lot?” she laughed, thumbing at the Scions at her back. “Four years. An’ they found me! Travellin’ alone sucks, an’ it’s dangerous. Keep each other safe, an’ dinnae get upset over little disagreements. Talk through it, an’ fer the love of yer freshly returned night sky, do not go into suspicious ruins. Especially ones that lead into mountains or caves or underground! Ye find all sorts of weird shite in those, an’ rarely anythin’ good!” She held her chin thoughtfully. “What else… Be nice to the locals, and dinnae be afraid to ask fer help if yer lost or hurt. An’ if somethin’ gives ye the heebie jeebies, listen to yerself and steer clear. If I had a gil fer every time I thought ‘Oh, just a quick peek!’ before gettin’ into all sorts of shite, I’d be rich enough to buy the whole bloody marketplace out.”

Alphinaud snorted, earning Granye’s stare. “Ye got any better advice, Alphie?” she challenged.

“Hmm… Find a healer if you can. Having an ally to help your stay on your feet in a fight is invaluable, wouldn’t you say, Granye?” he promptly cheekily.

Granye reached over and wrapped her arm around him in a gentle headlock. “Aye, aye, yer a wonderful healer, ye little menace. I’d be dead five times over if not fer yer shields.”

“Always ask about local legends.” Thancred offered suddenly, ignoring Alphinaud’s flailing. “You’ll find there’s often a grain of truth to them, but you have to use your wits to decide if that truth it in your favour, or against you.”

Alisaie raised a finger. “I might add; don’t slack on your training. You may have put aside the Crystarium guard routine, but the wild beasts beyond Lakeland can come in particularly ferocious forms that such a regimen will hardly have prepared you for. Oh, and if you must crack your coinpurse at Mord Souq, pick the Everburning Bounty, trust me.”

Granye let go of Alphie and shuddered at the memory of Rhon Ron’s stall.

Urianger lowered his arm from his head. “…The fae are tricksome beings. With pixies, think not as though thou art negotiating with an adult, but a child. Treat them kindly, and bring to them gifts shouldst thou require their aid. Colourful glass and shimmering insect wings are much favoured.”

Ryne could only offer a shrug when the two slowly looked at her, bracing for another sudden outpouring of wisdom. “I can only say to know your limits, and rest when you need to.”

Vonard and Theyler looked at each other once again, before the Galdjent spoke. “All of you, thank you. We’ll remember what you’ve told us – every word.” he added, pointedly looking at Granye.

They stood tall and made the Crystarium salute one final time before they turned and left, saying a brief farewell to Lyna as their commander.

G’raha sighed. “I thank you for giving them such a valuable farewell. It pains me to be unable to back their decision in such a situation.”

“Ye have yer own responsibilities, robin.” Granye soothed. “Ye need them here. Hardly makes sense fer ye to wave them off with a big ol’ grin.” She looked out behind them watching the duo head to the stairs leading to the Landing. “…I do hope they have a good go at it, really.”

Thancred nodded at her. “You know, I feel like we learned more about your days before joining the Scions right now than you’ve ever shared with us.”

Granye made a face. “There’s just nae much to tell, really. It was bloody miserable. Find a bar, drink some grog, play a song, pass out in me room, or a stack o’ hay if it was really bad.”

“What brought you to Gridania, then?” Alisaie asked.

“That’s right. I had nearly forgotten we three shared a carriage to the city.” Alphinaud laughed. “It seems so long ago…”

As Alphinaud’s voice faded, another sound rose in their ears. A strange rumbling, crackling noise, high above them in the sky, like a storm, thought I was a perfectly clear blue, sunny day.

Until, suddenly, it wasn’t.

All lifted their heads skyward as darkness rolled over the sky. Churning, silken dark grey clouds swept over the Crystarium in a wave, blotting out the sun, drowning them all in the darkness of a storm. A flash of lightning arced from the nexus of the swirling mass of clouds, snapping over them with a tremendous crash. Granye expected rain to suddenly come pouring down…not a pinprick of golden light to swell and grow and split the clouds open like a vortex. Not for screaming streaks of fiery light to fall from the heavens and rocket over their heads and into the horizon, the light from their passage bouncing and shimmering off the many-faceted front of the Crystal Tower.

She froze, staring up at the sight with wide eyes and an open mouth.

She remembered this.

Had the very same vision not come to her, some four years ago, when she rode in the back of the very carriage Alphinaud mentioned seconds earlier? The sparkling comets that streaked out like fireworks, reaching every corner of the sky, plummeting to earth like-

“…The Final Days…”

Could it really have been…? Did she see that calamitous event, years and years ago, when the world in her mind was still only as big as the Allied States?

The world grew darker still, with only the harsh orange glow from above to light the frightened faces of those below, tainting the blue crystal domes and Tower with a haze of warm light. The people were frightened, frantic, cowering and shaking.

“Hear… Feel… Think…”

Ice gripped her veins suddenly. Those words…that slow, echoing feminine voice. Hydaelyn.

But why? Why, after all this time, here, on the First-!?

“I-I hear a voice!”

“You too? B-But, why does it feel like it’s inside my head?”

Voices in the crowd reached her ears, and Granye whipped her head toward them in horror before she spun to her friends, fear gripping her tight. “Do ye all-?”

Alisaie’s slow nod was all she needed. They were all hearing Her.

“What’s She doin’!?” Granye hissed, looking back up at the sky. Her first instinct was to grab them and run – to stuff them in the deepest pits of the Tower and shield them from Her influence.

“Did I not tell you, my friends!?”

Granye shuddered, turning slowly, eyes settling on the familiar stolen form that confidently strode into the Exedra. Elidibus made his return amidst the end of the world, still wearing Ardbert’s face and speaking those awful, wrong words in his voice. She wondered spitefully, as she glared at him, and a low whine built in her ears, if he had gone to such lengths to steal such an intangible aspect of Ardbert’s being as his voice, just to get under her skin.

The whine built into a pressure, crushing down on her senses until she was forced to shut her eyes and grimace against it. Only when she felt Ryne’s hand on hers, and heard her concerned, quietened voice, did Granye open her eyes.

And the sky….was clear. The comets were gone, and the blackened clouds, vanished.

“What you hear is the voice of Light itself, and it has blessed you with its power! Welcome to the fold!”

Ardbert’s mangled voice spouting those words poisoned her ears, and the murmurs of the bewildered and excited crowd rose higher, as Granye lowered her gaze back from the sky. Elidibus was leaving, his back turned from the crowd, no doubt planning to get himself out of their sight before he teleported away. Again, as before under the boughs of the Greatwood, Granye felt consumed with the urge to stop him.

This time, she allowed it to drive her steps forward, to carry her into a run across the stone floor, skirting the distracted citizens.

“Wait.”

Her first attempt fell on deaf ears, flat and hoarse.

“Wait!”

Though her voice lifted, surely to his ears that time, he continued to the stairs.

“Seven hells, I said wait!”

Her fingers caught the crook of his arm, halting him dead with one foot on the stairs and the other still on the floor. Barely had her touch landed before he reacted, pulling his arm free and twisting it out of her grasp. The move came so violently and abruptly that Granye stepped back, her hand hovering outstretched as Elidibus turned on her, his eyes sharp and cold and furious. She could only hold such a stare for a moment before she lowered her eyes and her hand. Too intense. It was much too intense to pretend she could face such a stare, such a hateful response to so small a touch.

Even if someone had seen and it had imperilled his scheme, he could not have helped himself from behaving so extremely. Her touch was poison, draining the life from even that which was eternal.

“…Why’re ye suddenly doin’ Her dirty work for Her?”

Elidibus narrowed his eyes at her. “Emet-Selch may have entertained your questions, but I shall not.”

The Scions had reached them by then, attempting not to attract attention from the crowd but close enough to listen, and to act if need be.

“But it was yer doin’.” she pressed. “Why…that?”

She managed to look at him, and his ire had quelled enough to recover his impassive attitude – enough to give her an answer, and to search her confused eyes for one of his own. She knew the truth. Suspected it, at least, about the connection of the falling stars and their fragmented souls. All she wanted was confirmation.

“It is the most convenient illusion apt to awaken what little remains of the power that once resided in such sundered souls. A power which you and yours call the Echo.”

Elidibus fancied he could see the gears in her head turning – the revelation dawning over her face like a new morning.

“You think it a rarity, but the name with which you refer to it is more accurate than you can comprehend. An echo indeed; of a symphony. It is a mere fraction of what men, in their completeness, once possessed. Even those among you who tower over others in the gift have only the faintest trace of it. But though sundered and forgotten, through death and mocking rebirth…it has persisted. A whisper of our past, burned into your very aether – along with the sight of our end.”

Something he said had struck her, evidently. The way she leaned back from him, finally, and looked down at the floor, how her eyebrows pinched and her eyes flickered here and there, as if visually piecing something together.

“Through the rekindling of memory, I have awoken the ability – just as Hydaelyn is wont to do when she has need of new minions.”

She slowly lifted her head. He could see the question on her lips…but he would entertain her no more. The darkness enveloped Elidibus, tendrils from the blackness at his back creeping around his discreetly and absorbing his form into the shadows.

-~-~-~-~-~-

Hear… Think… Feel…

White-gold eyes flew open with a start.

Lahabrea stared up at the ceiling of the inn room with gasping breaths, his hands crushing the blanket he’d dozed off atop in their grip.

He closed his eyes firmly, silently chastising himself. He wasn’t even directly confronted with Her at the Glacier, and he was having nightmares about Her! Such weakness…

Lahabrea inhaled, calming his breaths before sitting out and getting off the bed. He’d been thoroughly exhausted after moving Gaia’s luggage into her new room. To be sure, so was she. He would vividly remember the struggle to push the cart up the ramp, and the distant cheers they’d heard once they reached the top.

Why Glynard and some of his patrons had been watching them from the Wandering Stairs, he would never understand.

Gaia had collapsed back on one of the beds in her room, and Lahabrea had tottered off, exhausted, to his, both of them eager to rest.

The room was dark, he realised as he stood up and made his way across to the kitchen side. He really hadn’t meant to sleep all afternoon. Granye wasn’t back, which meant there was probably some new crisis or another in the Greatwood they were dealing with. He blearily stared at the fruit bowl on the counter before picking up an apple and meandering his way back up to the desk.

Maybe it was a straggler sin eater causing a ruckus, or the Children of the Everlasting Dark? He lifted the apple to his mouth, about to take a bite, when a streak of light rocketed past the open window and stopped him dead. His eyes panned over to the left and he lowered the fruit, slowly and cautiously approaching the window.

He knew the sight that greeted him well. The soot-black roiling clouds, the burning light in the sky, spitting comets over the world.

But why would Hydaelyn be prompting such an image now, when the First had only just been saved from the Light? Surely the First was not so swiftly and so dangerously imperilled by the return of night?

Lahabrea’s face crumpled with discomfort. He could feel pressure rapidly building in his ears and hear a whine, rising in pitch until it was all he could hear…and then it all stopped at once, and the scene of the Final Days melted away like snow before his eyes.

The apple fell from his hand, bouncing on the floor and rolling away as Lahabrea sprinted to the door and pulled it open, causing it to rattle on its sturdy hinges. The Master of Suites called out to him as he ran, the door to their room left open carelessly in his wake.

There was only one explanation for the starshower that ended so suddenly. Visions of such images were usually imparted or invited upon individuals – a private moment in the mind. Real, tangible events of comets falling from the heavens did not end so quickly.

Which meant it was an illusion. And there was only one person left with the strength to conjure such a thing on such a magnitude.

He ran towards the Exedra, towards the crowd he could see in the distance. Surely that was a sign! Surely that would lead him to-!

Lahabrea skidded to a stop before he even entered the Exedra proper. He didn’t need to take a step further to see the achingly familiar darkness, swirling around the figure of a man upon the steps leading to the aetheryte plaza.

A man that was gone before he could even open his mouth to shout the Emissary’s name.

He could have howled for the injustice of it all. Of course he was moments too late to call out to Elidibus. Of course she was left there, standing dumbly in the Emissary’s wake, so clearly having spoken to him before his exit.

His hands curled into tight fists, shaking, his chest rising and falling with his breaths, and his anger.

It was with a clenched jaw and a ferrous scowl that he turned and marched back to his room.

They knew Zenos had reclaimed his flesh, and that Elidibus had been unaccounted for. More than that, Granye’s odd behaviour in the morning told him all he needed to know – she was keeping him in the dark. From a logical standpoint, it was to be expected. Emet-Selch had bucked the trend and ingratiated himself in her routine, and Lahabrea had been lucky enough to have arrived to see the Architect introduce himself to the Scions.

How far that had gotten him…

The Manager watched him return, walk past the desk silently and return to his room, quietly shutting the door. When inside, Lahabrea stood there, numb, his eyes falling upon the abandoned red apple that sat on the floor, innocently out of place. His expression twisted.

Emet had said it to him often enough that he’d made no bother to contact Elidibus and tell him he was alive and with their enemy. Lahabrea would be lying if he said he didn’t know why.

Elidibus…was not as he once was. None of them were, really, but with Elidibus the change was on a deeper, fundamental level, and neither Lahabrea nor Emet-Selch had any idea how the Emissary would take Lahabrea’s stunted state of being…

Lahabrea bent over and picked up the apple, rinsing it clean before biting into the flesh, eating the fruit before it bruised from the drop.

He couldn’t afford to think about the fear of what Elidibus might do. Instead, he clung to his own anger at Granye, for what she did do. He thought about how to bring it up with her, what he would say – if he should say anything at all!

By the time he tossed the apple core in the bin, he had decided. He would say nothing, He would pretend he was ignorant of the Emissary’s presence on the First, and when next Granye had to leave him unsupervised, he would leave. If he took the Grani, it would be almost impossible for them to catch up to him in a timely manner. He would find Elidibus and he would…

He would what? Beg not to be penned in some place for his own safety? Beg not to be assigned another supervisor in his even weaker state? He was nothing when put beside another member of the Convocation – even the fragments raised to their seat. He could do nothing to help the cause.

Lahabrea found his hands curled into a fist yet again as he leaned over the sink and stare into the basin. His mind ran in a circle of anger and despair at his own weakness. Around and around and around until-

Until the door opened, and he turned to see her, standing in the doorway as she closed the door, her every move subdued and slow.

Granye’s mind was a mess. From the moment Elidibus’ words clicked, and Urianger’s later expansions on the Echo’s true nature in their private meeting in the Ocular, she was stuck on why?

Why, if the power resided within them all, was she the one to take on so much? Why did she have to be the Source’s only ‘Warrior of Light’? Of course there were those with the Echo – Arenvald and Krile, and even Fordola with her artificial Resonant – who fought and struggled on the front lines.

But how many of them had stained their hands with the blood of ancients? Of mad wyrms and madder still men, who dreamed of gods and power and a wonderful death?

Why had she been the one to throw away a life of blissful ignorance and peace, for one of war and suffering? And unlike Ardbert, she had done it alone, without a group of friends who could stand by her side at every hurdle, through every fight without risk of losing their minds.

There were others in of the Source who were of better character than her – consistently brave, skilled leaders with morals and firm beliefs. So why was she the only one to be forced down such an excruciating road, forced to deal the killing blow, always?

She took off her bow and leaned it on the dresser.

“You cannot hide me from him.”

Granye stilled under Lahabrea’s snarl.

“You cannot keep me separated from my brethren!”

‘I know’, was what she wanted to say. But her lips would not move, and her mouth was dry.

“How long did you think you could obfuscate the fact that he was here?” Lahabrea hissed, coming to stand at the bottom of the steps, to glare and seethe with unexpected anger at her lack of words.

When Granye turned her head to look at him, his next string of outraged words evaporated. Her expression was dead. Exhaustion seeped into every part of her face, except her eyes. She stared at him with as much intensity as he did her. Her eyes were angry and hurt. Had she the strength to voice the questioning accusation that burned most hotly on her tongue, Lahabrea might’ve heard her ask him why he never told her the truth about the Echo, and Hydaelyn’s call.

But Granye knew, that Lahabrea would never answer her. He never answered questions about the truth of their world, especially not when she wanted to know. He would never tell her why he refrained from correcting their assumptions, only scoffed at them for it.

He would never impart their pathetic mortal minds with more knowledge than he deemed they were due.

As she stared him down, he read it in her eyes.

‘How do you like being the ignorant mortal?’

——————————

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#muse; insufferable lover #muse; mister lahee #granye #granye x lahabrea #trying to write all the way up to where i've left Granye to languish in the msq fhkhsajkdas #because if i got forward I'M NOT COMING BACK #the song is just really nice in general but i like how it has these melancholic highs and lows

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faelune-home · 4 years ago

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FFXIV Write 2020 #22: Argy-bargy

(A/N: Good god what was this prompt. XD I managed to scrape something together at least.

Nothing notable to mention here - that I can think of while posting. Set during 5.1-.2 era Some downtime between it all while everyone’s chilling at the Crystarium.

Also catch me trying to use Urianger in my fics but also not having him talk as much as he could cos what is his dialogue style, I don’t trust myself with that. :’D halp

Word Count: 1452

@ffxiv-writers)

“I am an only child.” Fufu chuckled at Alisaie’s exaggerated groan into the table, having just entered the Wandering Stairs after a peruse at the market stalls.

“Hmm, I’m pretty sure you had a brother last I checked.”

“If he continues being an embarrassment, he’s disowned,” the girl huffed, finally sitting up properly. And with a nod of her head toward the garden outside the Pendants, the miqo’te bit back another giggle at the sight.

Alphinaud and Urianger appeared to be in the midst of a very vigorous discussion, one that seemed to have generated a small crowd near the fringes of the area - by the entrance to the inn, milling around the market stairs, lingering at the gate to the Exedra plaza. All eagerly curious, yet warily keeping their distance. And in amidst it all, Ryne sat unperturbed at the foot of a tree, giving scritches to a very content looking Moonstone Carbuncle sitting on her lap, while an Amber Carbuncle slept beside her.

“Oh, it’s been a while since I’ve seen Urianger’s carbuncle,” Fufu noted, as though blind to the rest of the scene. She bit back a smile at Alisaie’s puffed up cheeks.

“That’s not the point here and you know it. The two of them are rambling on and on about all sorts of academic nonsense, and no doubt everyone here is curious about what they’re talking about, but not a soul here seems to want to even talk to ‘the vaunted Warriors of Darkness’.” She rolled her eyes.

Fufu’s ear flicked and she shrugged. “I can see why people here might be curious about the topic. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone perform arcanima or any similar abilities while we’ve been here. Your brother aside of course.”

“Of course,” the elezen grumbled. Then with an exasperated sigh, throwing her head back, she added, “I’d just rather that they either took this somewhere private where people wouldn’t be ogling, or they acknowledge their little audience and maybe...I don’t know, offer to teach? Although I can’t imagine either of them being able to simplify it enough for unfamiliar folk to understand.”

Fufu gave the girl a pat on the shoulder, saying, “Well, while you wallow over this, I’ll go see Ryne, find out how this happened and how we can steer it into something useful other than just them taking up floor space.”

Descending the stairs into the garden area and slipping unnoticed past the chattering scholars, Fufu spared a wave and a smile to a portion of the crowd. A few young children waved back eagerly, however the adults were more hesitant to return the gesture.

She finally joined the young hume at the tree, sitting alongside her with a smile, giving Moonstone a scratch under the chin, making it purr. Amber roused briefly to peek over the younger girl’s lap, however opted to curl up tighter and keep sleeping at the sight of the miqo’te.

“So what happened?” Fufu asked. Ryne gave a bemused smile as she said, “I asked Alphianud how carbuncles worked, in terms of summoning and behaviours, since I’ve never seen them before. He got Urianger to help with explaining, but it got a bit off track. I couldn’t follow after a while.”

“Don’t worry, I understand the feeling. But I do think we should have them break this up now or take it somewhere else. They’ve attracted a crowd and I don’t think they’ve realised, but Alisaie has and she’s a bit put off by it.” As Ryne giggled, Fufu got to her feet, her tail flicking on Moonstone’s nose and earning a chirp in response, before walking over to the elezen duo.

“--the caster’s aether would carry all the finer points of the construct’s makeup, including any semblance of personality or habit--”

“--And I’m not arguing against that,” the younger boy interrupted, “All I’m saying is that there has to be more to any learned behaviour, unless the one creating the summon is unconsciously including additional behaviours in their equations.”

A clap from the approaching Warrior silenced whatever response Urianger was preparing, taking them both aback at the intrusion. She smiled. “This all sounds pretty neat, I’m not gonna lie, but I think you both got a little off topic. Or at least didn’t notice your audience getting a little curious.” They both looked self-conscious as they finally noticed the throng around them, even with the people beginning to disperse as the discussion was brought to an end. Some few lingered still, casting glances at the group while whispering amongst themselves.

“How exactly did this all start?” Fufu inquired.

Alphinaud was the one to answer first. “Ryne asked as to the finer points about Carbuncles, so I tried to explain. I managed to cover the basic duties one would perform, then to formation and summoning. Basic equations any beginner could accomplish, if she were so curious to try, then I decided to include Urianger in the demonstration as an example of something more personal alongside mine own.”

“Tis unfortunate then that as our conference would alienate others less versed in the field of arcanima as we two dove deeper into the makings and formulations of such creatures,” the older man added, followed by a frown from Alphinaud as he finished, “And even more so that we ended up debating over a summon’s behaviour and whether it is learned or imprinted during the summoning.”

Fufu hummed, tapping her cheek in thought. “Soooo, like if a Carbuncle would like scritches or not? Whether they’d learn that on their own or if their summoner would deliberately put that information into them?”

With an amused smile, Urianger nodded. “Aye, that would be a suitable example.”

“Well, I’m not gonna question either of you two, but whichever ‘academic answer’ you would reach, I’d argue both your own Carbuncles are a bit partial to a friendly hand giving pets,” the woman chuckled, and both scholars turned their attentions to Ryne by the tree, giving both summons scratches by the ears.

Noticing the stares, Ryne stood and joined them, both carbuncles trotting along beside her before sitting obediently by their own masters. The girl bowed her head, wearing a sheepish smile.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t paying much attention,” she said with a bow.

“Not at all, I do understand that we may have been talking above a beginner’s understanding. Tis our own fault really,” the boy responded, a hand on her shoulder.

“Mayhap twould be best to start anew, to teach a proper lesson instead of making use of overwrought studies unavailable to the citizens of this star.”

The younger ones nodded at Urianger’s suggestion, while Fufu added, her ears upright, “That sounds like a good idea. And while you’re at it, you can include some others in the Crystarium if they’re interested. I know the ones over there still look pretty fascinated.” She gestured to a small collective by the Pendants, all of them suddenly looking away as attentions were drawn their way.

“An excellent proposition. I’ll go and extend the offer to them, and perhaps perform a sweep of the Crystarium for any other curious folk.” Alphinaud wandered off to the nervous group, while Urianger volunteered to prepare a study plan for any keen students the scholars would amass, carbuncles going with their respective summoners, leaving Fufu and Ryne alone at the garden.

They reentered the Wandering Stairs, finding a more relaxed Alisaie sipping on some water at the table.

“I sorted it,” Fufu announced, while the girl smiled, “I noticed. My thanks.”

“I’ll be interested to learn about this,” Ryne said, “Even if I can’t take to it entirely well, even having basic knowledge would be handy.” With her eyes shining at the miqo’te woman, she added, “I’d like to follow your example with this. Widening my repertoire for the future.”

Fufu’s ear flicked, a blush spreading across her cheeks. “I appreciate that, but you don’t need to credit me for the idea.”

“Oh don’t listen to her,” Alisaie huffed, waving a hand at Fufu’s comment, “You couldn’t have picked a better role model. Maybe better teachers, but they’re the only ones here that know anything about arcanima. But you let me know if they go too fast for you or anyone else here, and I’ll give them a talking to.”

“I will, thank you,” Ryne nodded.

“And besides,” fufu added, smile broadening, “if you wanted to try any other trades, feel free to ask. I’m sure Alisaie here wouldn’t mind teaching a little bit.”

The elezen shrugged, smiling all the same. “Perhaps I might.”

Ryne gawped at the offer, her eyes sparkling. She nodded. “Then whatever you can teach me, I’m ready and willing!”

#ffxivwrite2020 #ffxivwrite #alisaie leveilleur #alphinaud leveilleur #urianger augurelt #ryne #carbuncles #keeper of the moon miqo'te #my wol #fufu faelune #my writing #crystarium #shadowbringers #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv

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ainarosewood · 4 years ago

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30 Day WoL Writing Challenge Day 27-Hands

@seaswolchallenge @ffxiv-writers

Aylis sat leaning against a tree watching as Ardbert honed his axe. The soft rasp of the whetstone against the edge the only sound aside from the gentle breeze.

"Ardbert," she asked quietly, "Would you teach me the way of the Warrior?"

The scrape paused and he looked up at her surprised, "Are you sure Aylis? You've seen what its capable of, how devastating it can be on a foe...."

"How it protects and defends others," she countered pushing herself up and walking over to him.

The Hyur reached out and tilted his face toward her so they could look eye to eye. "I feel that I don't do enough Ardbert. All I do is patch you up while you shoulder all the work. I....I want to stand at your side, not at your back supporting you."

The Warrior set the axe and stone aside and stood pulling her into a hug. "You do more than you give yourself credit for luv. But, if its what you truly desire then....I will teach you."

He then cupped her chin adding, "Beside me or behind me it matters not. Your there and that’s what I need."

She smiled back then gave him a quick kiss before replying, "Thank you."

He gave her his boyish grin, "Now, first things first your going to need an axe that’s more suited to your ability. You wont be able to heft one like that....yet."

She looked over to where he pointed and nodded. The Hume’s axe was as broad as his shoulders and she knew that the steel was hefty she could see the thickness of the blade before it tapered off to the edge.

Ardbert let her go and strode back to it heaving it up and slinging the weapon into its harness. Together they mounted the amaro and flew back toward the Crystarium. Once they arrived they took care of the birds at the Rookery and made their way to the Musicia Universalis. There Ardbert searched until he found an axe suitable for a beginner.

Once she was armed they headed over to a corner of the Exedra where he began instructing her in proper stance and hand positioning. Aylis was an attentive student and once he was satisfied she had that knowledge ingrained he had her take practice swings.

Most of the afternoon was spent with her swinging the axe, him giving her pointers on how to adjust grip and people passing by smiling at seeing the pair train so.

As evening fell he called a halt to the training as he saw she was beginning to have difficulty keeping a grip on the axe. Once the Hyur had sheathed it in the harness on her back he gently took her hands and looked them over.

Red swollen blisters covered her palm and fingers and he nodded saying softly, "Go to the Pendants and take a soak to ease your muscles, I'll get something for these.”

The Midlander gave him a tired smile and left to do as he bid. Ardbert meanwhile made his way to the Spagyrics asking for an old remedy he knew of. At their blank looks he realized that the knowledge of it must have been lost.

Motioning for the healer to follow he went to the Hortorium and showed her what herbs were needed for it and how to make the salve.

"It will aid new recruits in getting over the blisters before the callouses form when gripping a weapon." he told her. “It also encourages the skin to make said callouses.”

The healer nodded giving him a gratful smile before she returned to the Spagyrics with a crateful of the herbs.

Ardbert picked up the salve he'd made and went to the Pendants. There he found Aylis lying on the bed wrapped in a towel studying her hands.

"They'll go away once you get used to gripping the haft." he told her stepping in, "Here this will ease the pain and help toughen up the skin."

He smeared the remedy on her hands and wrapped them with bandages. Then he divested himself of his armor before curling up next to her on the bed.

Once sleep had claimed her he gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead before slipping from behind her and easing her onto the mattress.

At her sleepy query he simply replied, "I'll be back gonna get something that will aid in teaching you the way. Don't worry there wont be any fighting involved, so rest."

She gave a affirmative noise and he grinned like an idiot before pulling his armor back on and getting his axe.

Moments later he was at the Rookery and calling sofly for Smoke. The amaro stepped up to him gweeing in greeting as Ardbert patted him then swung astride.

"So where are we off to Ardbert." the amaro asked

"An all but forgotten corner of Kholusia, a village most likely naught but foundations..." he responded.

The amaro nodded and leapt to the air hovering while Ardbert cast teleport. Once at Stilltide the Hume tugged the reins to direct the amaro where he was intending.

The moment they landed he saw his comment had been accurate. The village was gone mostly buried beneath the soil. Parts of foundations sticking out of areas.

Ardbert walked through the ruins silent relying on memory to find his way. Behind him Smoke padded the normally gregarious amaro silent respecting his somber mood.

It didn't take the Warrior long to find the place he was looking for. A once a proud hall that everyone had gathered in trained in. That was a lifetime ago and Ardbert felt a pang of loss.

Distantly he felt Aylis's reassuring presence reaching out to him along their bond. He focused letting her feel his gratitude and lack of worry. Smiling to himself, even in her sleep she was there to help him.

The Warrior then strode into the ruined building making his way to where he knew the basement would have been. Sure enough he found the old steel doors mostly rusted from the march of time.

Using the butt of his axe the Hume broke the rusted seal and stepped back as the cloud of dust filled the air. He then carefully looked in axe at the ready incase a beast had made the old hole its den.

When nothing charged out Ardbert then shifted his grip using the butt again to probe the old stone steps leading down before placing his full weight on them.

At the bottom he saw exactly what he was hoping for. The ruins of an old chest and within it several small red stones. Carefully he reached in and retrieved one of them.

There in his palm sat a small crescent moon shaped stone. The head of an axe etched into its surface a soft crimson glow emanating from it.

"There’s another who wishes to learn the way, Master..." he stated softly, "I will do my best to teach her as you did me."

Clenching the stone tightly in his fist he felt grief welling with his memories. The visage of the man who taught him everything he knew surfacing and the full knowledge that the man had long since turned to dust with time, if the Flood or a Sin Eater hadn’t killed him first. It took a moment for the Warrior to get a hold of himself. It helped to feel Aylis's comfort and support from the distant Crystarium.

He then gathered the remainder of the stones placing them in a saddle bag. Ardbert would give them to the Exarch for safe keeping he knew the Miqo'te would show them respect.

The Warrior then climbed back out of the old basement and mounted Smoke. The old bird giving him a soft comforting gwee. Then the amaro launched and Ardbert teleported them both back to the Crystarium.

Once he had taken care of the bird and got him settled at the Rookery once more. The Warrior then made his way to the Pendants where he found her sitting in the lobby waiting for him.

As he approached she stepped up worry in her eyes. Ardbert just walked up to her giving her a hug stating softly, "Sorry didn't mean to wake you. I...didn't expect it to hit me that hard."

"What happened," she asked softly hugging him back and pulling him toward their room.

"I...went to the village I used to live in. Where I learned to be a Warrior. For this," he pulled out the stone and handed it to her.

"A soulstone," she murmured taking it from him.

Ardbert nodded, "I thought some might still be there, in the hall where I trained."

Alyis gave him a comforting hug and he squeezed back grateful. The Warrior could tell that he needn't say more so he fell silent. The stood like that for a long moment her presence easing the ache of his memories of loss. Then he let go and gave her a gentle shove toward the bed.

"Get back to sleep luv. I'll join you shortly just need to do one more thing."

Aylis nodded in understanding then returned to the bed falling asleep almost as soon as she laid down.

Ardbert left their room and made his way to the Dossal Gate. There one of the guards greeting him and let him through as he took the steps to the Occulus. Within the vaulted room he found the Exarch waiting for him. The Miqo'te's crimson eyes curious.

"Exarch I have a request of you," the Hume stating softly handing the saddle bag over to him, "Please, take care of these they once belonged to the Warriors of my home village. I...couldn't see leaving them there in the wilds."

A look of compassion and understanding filled G'raha's features as he opened the bag then replied softly, "Of course. I will treat them with honor and dignity."

Adrbert bowed thanking the man before leaving heading back out of the tower and to the Pendants.

As he crawled into bed Aylis snuggled close to him giving sleepy comforting sounds. He smiled squeezing her gently before letting sleep claim him as well.

#FFXIV #Aylis Tyme #seaswolchallenge #ffxiv-writers #Shb Spoilers #Ardbert/WoL #hyur #midlander #crystal data center #balmung #Wol/Wod #warrior

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crystalsexarch · 4 years ago

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Crux - T

Teen. Specific male WoL. Bas'ir Bahani.

Though the Warrior of Darkness has urgent duties to perform on the First, he is plagued by a sickness of light...and persistent questions about the man who brought him here.

Part of the 2020 FFXIV writing challenge.

Also on AO3.

He knows, to an extent, that he has been blinded, but he isn’t ready to name the wool.

“Bas’ir,” Thancred says, a million malms away or more. Closer, the Exarch climbs the steps to his Tower, hunching slightly at the weight of the Warrior’s eyes on his back. Bas’ir is squinting, counting something he can’t see, as if he could read the secret from the number of stones carrying the Crystarium. The sandaled man, all the way across the Exedra, feels almost within reach when he waves at his guard, turns just a hair over his shoulder, and—Bas’ir swears he can see it—smiles.

A bristling tail. Leather-clad fingers tightening on leather. A dark black spot on the surface of the sun.

“Bas’ir,” Thancred says, for what is certainly the first time. Young Minfilia, flanking him, knits her eyebrows. The countenance she shares with her namesake casts an unknowing ghost upon all she sees, including the miqo'te tasked with preventing the apocalypse.

The Warrior unwinds and shakes his head. “Don’t trust him,” he says, hustling toward the Aetheryte Plaza. Both his arm of flesh and his arm of metal are stiff at his sides. “Don’t trust him one bit.”

Thancred’s eyes follow before his feet, before Minfilia follows him. “You may have mentioned, oh...half a dozen times now.”

“Why should I trust him? Duty gets done all the same.”

“Your unwavering commitment to the cause is something to admire.” Thancred turns his head like he means to exchange glances with Urianger, but Urianger isn’t here. Not in the Plaza, nor in the Rotunda at large, as far as the gunbreaker can see. Bas’ir stops and sways before the aetheryte, stiff duster drawing his shoulders into neat points. Thancred thinks he looks, even after all this time, like a man who doesn’t quite fit his boots. But he certainly looks older. “Though I suppose you’ve never been known to get something done without complaining about it.”

Bas’ir feels suddenly like he’s the one who’s spent half a decade away from a comrade. Instead of letting it sting, he casts his gaze back to the Dossal Gate, as though a hooded head might peek out from the Tower’s entrance at any second. “Let me ask you, Archon,” he says with a whip of his tail—still dark but the very tips, unlike the gray hair on his head—and then the question is gone, lost in the nauseous light of his body. He hits his own chest and accidentally lets new questions surface: why is the Exarch lying? What is he lying about? And what is happening to me?

The answers sting like static in his ears. Or perhaps that’s just another side effect of whatever he has swallowed. Whatever he is coming dangerously close to spitting back up.

Thancred’s at his shoulder, easing him rightways, calling his name, by the look of his lips. Instead of hearing it, Bas’ir focuses on the incessant tightening in his right hand, his only hand of flesh. It summons another that he can feel but not feel, cannot grip but must grip. It’s the look on Minfilia’s face that coaxes the spell out of him—the light, not the phantom burning in the shadow of his prosthetic. Once again, he remembers how he learned to hide his pain from people with eyes that rhyme with Eorzean skies.

“You’re all right?” Thancred says, clapping his shoulder.

Bas’ir’s right hand continues twitching in time with his invisible left. His left eye winks with sympathy. “As ever.”

Thancred chews an apology, then swallows it. It leaves a bitter taste. “Urianger has yet to make his presence known.” He keeps the words low. “Should you take a few moments to yourself, I scarcely doubt he would fault you. And...nor would I."

"Do you trust him?" Bas'ir asks, now gripping his arm where machine meets man, as if he doesn't know it won't help. "The Exarch. Not Urianger."

"Yes," Thancred says. Minfilia is watching. He slicks his hair back and looks down the corridor that leads to Musical Universalis. No astrologians in sight. "But for what it's worth, I expect you'll find Y'shtola more...receptive to your doubts."

Bas'ir looks down to the base of the aetheryte and measures his breaths. He has half a mind to return to the Tower and speak with the Exarch alone, to rummage through new, old hallways and sniff out secrets. But the other half of his mind wins. "I shall...make my own way to the Greatwood. Meet me at its entrance." He sets both of his arms before him and rolls his wrists.

"Be...be careful," Minfilia says, one hand hovering at her collar.

Bas'ir's eyes flicker to her. He lets his arms droop back to his sides before nodding and leaving the Crystarium.

Moments later, he watches the sky from atop a hill in Lakeland and considers the toxicity of his paranoia. Is the recipe wrong? Has he missed the mark in questioning a man who summoned him to the familiar place of a foreign place? From his position, and perhaps all positions in Lakeland, he can see the Tower, foreboding and blue. The returned sky has done it no favors, he thinks. How anyone can expect him to look at that thing and not feel something—it is beyond him. There, he had lost not only his arm, but….

It was insulting. At least his stomach has settled.

While Bas’ir lies in the grass with his hands beneath his head, wondering if the so-called Exarch might be walking around in someone else’s body, two sets of eyes are upon him in secret; the Exarch watches, and so doe the Ascian who has found himself asking similar questions about Bas’ir.

#crystal exarch #ffxivwrite2020 #ffxiv fanfiction #ff14 fanfic #wolexarch #mywriting

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