#Thosinund Haldkhanwyn

[rhymingteelookatme]

after long sleep, part 2: rosmarinus

The city is still there.

It did not fall with Emet-Selch’s defeat. Perhaps she ought not be surprised; tombs do not crumble half so quickly as their occupants.

After everything, it is still there, as if to give the lie to that dizzy struggle through screams and smoke and ash. That terrible bell of thinking she would die spitting quicksilver on a jagged floor, betraying everyone she’d tried to save. The moment when she realized she would not.

The city is still there. As is the fae enchantment keeping the sea from its bed. She wonders if, someday, she might see the Tempest floor as it was meant to be: full of drifting plants and darting fish, luminous tendrils swaying in the currents. The Ondo’s lives restored to what they were—flashing through the water, not trudging on the sand.

But that is for someday. Here, today, the bubble remains. And so does Amaurot.

All of Amaurot. Its citizen-shades still walk their silent paths, pausing beneath the streetlamps or the trees. Its endless malms of windows stay alight. Those twisting metal arms still rise between the rooftops, reaching toward heavens long gone. And deep beneath it all, Thosinund thinks, perhaps the hidden heart remains as well- perhaps still wreathed in that aetheric pyre.

The city is no longer frightening, now. Some part of her once knew its every stone, back when it truly stood in open air. Some part of her was once a part of it: as towering, as grand, as unaware of pain and sorrow. And though her heart still pangs to look upon it, it is a gentler ache: one she can bear with ease. 

An ache that, in this deep viridian light, feels less like something lost than something found—a something she might once have even loved. 

A “new old friend,” perhaps. Yes, that sounds right. 

[vreliskriri]

A quick scetch of Thosinund Haldkhanwyn, better known as the big brav tower of awe, drawn a little better than you would expect of me in the middle of the night. I guess insomnia can make one creative in this kind of a desperate way. 

@rhymingteelookatme, ti’s thine. Especially the hat. 

[rhymingteelookatme]

My sweet miss Sélysette, who I really ought to feature more.

Her older sister Livorette, who is featured quite a lot and frequently drunk on Loving Her Wife juice.

Thosinund Haldkhanwyn, my big braw tower of awe (7′2″, babey)

And my firstborn, Ascella Parvin, in one of the more naturally colored shots I was able to get from the bizarre silvery light of the Copied Factory.

Reblog this with your FFXIV character’s face!

I need them

For reasons

👀

[rhymingteelookatme]

Prompt #4: Unmistakable

Words: 390 | Day 4: baleful

“Look at the lot of them,” Alisaie grumbles under her breath. “Traitors.” 

Thosinund lets her brows climb toward her fringe. “Traitors. Really?”

The Bonanza is making fine time through the skies; Ishgard has long since vanished in its wake. Though the deck is not all that long, Alisaie has placed herself as far opposite their fellow passengers as possible—Estinien, Alphinaud and G’raha are off toward the stern, so the younger Leveilleur (though only a fool would remind her of those fateful minutes) is as far toward the prow as she can get without sitting on the figurehead. By some miracle, there is just enough room for Thosinund to sit within earshot.

Alisaie sighs. “All right, traitors is a bit strong. So what.” At Thosi’s waiting silence, she goes on. “I really thought I’d finally made myself known as myself in this world, that’s all. Barring folk who’d only ever met one or the other of us briefly- like that Kai-Shirr fellow. Practical strangers like that getting us wrong, well... it’s almost to be expected. 

“But Estinien! The fabled Estinien...!” 

The girl’s engines of indignation are firing once again; Thosi will not halt them. “He used to be much more of a bastard,” she remarks. “Though I don’t think he was trying to be one today.” 

“Ooh, keen-eyed Estinien,” Alisaie growls, either ignoring or not having heard Thosinund’s comment. “Bane of all wyrms, leaper of mountains in a single bound! Flea on the hide of Nidhogg, strong and swift fellow savior of Ishgard! Hard-wooed, hard-won Estinien can’t even tell I’m not his bosom companion Alphinaud. And look at the lot of them! 

”I suppose Alphinaud’s callousness is no more than he’s done before- it’s all right for him, people know who he is. But G’raha! Hasn’t he done enough to everyone- to me? Must he also hover at that man’s elbow, with his eyes glittering like a child at Starlight...?!”

She shakes her head, fuming, fists clenched; her braid nearly catches Thosinund in the eye as it whips in the wind. Her eyes are twin daggers, skewering the three men in her sights with the most baleful of glares. 

“If it helps,” Thosi offers, “you’re completely unmistakable to me.” 

All the tension melts out of Alisaie’s shoulders at that. “Well, of course. You’re the only one with sense around here.”

[rhymingteelookatme]

Guess who turned 29 while I wasn’t looking last Tuesday! I’ve spent a few days on this queen, getting her all manner of new gear- and what d’ye know, she’s let her hair grow out. Happiest of namedays to my Thosinund ^_^

[rhymingteelookatme]

Prompt #15: Strategy

Words: 268 | Day 15: Thunderous

“...The hull got a hole and it started to drip— How many Teredos sank the ship?”

Thosi spreads her arms wide, beckoning, her easy grin a challenge. “Come on, ye scurvy brats!”

From every direction the children come running, their collective feet beating a thunderous tattoo on the ground. The air of Lyhe Mheg fills with their joyous battle cries, mostly along the lines of  “Yaaaargh!” or “Aaaaaaaaaah!”, and then they are upon her.

This being far from their first game of How Many Teredos, the children have developed a distinct strategy by now: the tallest and heaviest kids get first dibs, going after her calves to leverage their weight. After that it’s a free-for-all, with the comparatively smaller and lighter kids latching onto everywhere else they can reach. Thosinund does not tell them that their dream-selves don’t always weigh the same as their waking selves; that would spoil the fun entirely. Her part is to wade forward at a steady pace, refusing to be stopped until every child has attached themselves somewhere.

Well, that and to issue playful taunts. “Bring on the ballast!” she laughs; as her arms sweep out in front, so do the half-dozen youngsters hanging from each. “Takes more than that to scupper the Greywave!” Every so often she’ll lurch to either side and fling one or two children loose, but they come scrambling back in seconds. And when she finally goes down, comically groaning in defeat, their cheers and giggles are the best sound in the world.

Being a hero is all very well, but these are the things that make it worthwhile.

[rhymingteelookatme]

i'm bluescreening omg ramora thank :D

Are there any ship blogs you like/would recommend? I need more to follow.

Idk that I follow that many

@windup-dragoon Kiri x Hien

@meepsthemiqo Meeps & her harem

@maiden-born-in-snow Shuri x Estinien + Ardbert (If I remember correctly?)

@aethernoise Alyx x Aymeric

@rhymingteelookatme Thosi x Haurchefant, Thosi x Hien

@ffxivmingxiajiang Ming x Foulques

I know there's more, but I can't remember their Tumblr handles. Sorry, my memory is bad. Feel free to add to this and I will reblog ❤️

[rhymingteelookatme]

Whoops I went back in on Monday evening and did another shoot in Matoya’s Relict :D

[rhymingteelookatme]

Prompt #21: always forever tonight

Words: 603 | Day 21: Foibles

-

Of course Hien is not perfect, Thosinund knows. He has his little flaws and foibles like any other man. Hells, she’s got an armful of example right now.

“Is your friend quite well?” asks someone in her peripheral. The tone is of sugary false concern, barely covering disapproval.

“Exceedingly so,” Hien slurs through a grin, not opening his eyes. “I am merely resting.”

Thosinund shifts him into a more secure grip. They need to get out of this crowd. “He’s fine. But we’re leaving now.”

She doesn’t regret inviting him to his first Starlight Celebration, exactly, but she clearly hadn’t thought it through. Who knew he would take to eggnog and rum like this? The yellow-green glow of the Gridanian lamps gives his skin a slightly sickly cast, but she can still see the flush painting his cheeks, and his broad lazy smile makes her heart turn over.

“It is hot,” he announces. “Do you not find it so?”

Thosi can’t help a chuckle. “That’s the rum talking.”  

Carefully she maneuvers them away from the people thronging the ampitheatre, Hien basking in her arms like a drowsy coeurl. Somewhere cool and quiet. That’s what they need.

Which is how they end up sitting on the end of Westshore Pier, where few folks seem inclined to wander. Well, Thosinund sits; Hien sprawls. His legs are dangling off the edge over the dark water, one arm wound around a piling for security, and his head is nestled in Thosi’s skirted lap.

“Youuuu are a tennin,” he tells her, beaming.

She blinks down at him. “I think I’d know if I were one of those.”

“’f course you are. Look at this lovely feather-dress.” He pats her knee, waves a hand in the general direction of her bell-shaped sleeve. “If you chose, you could fly away at any moment.”  

Thosinund feels her ears getting hot, but shakes her head. “I’m not going anywhere. Got to keep an eye on you. The way you’re talking, Twelve know what you’re going to do next.”

Hien gazes up at her through his lashes (quite as thick and black as the rest of his hair), one corner of his smile tilting up sideways. “If I find a way to take your hagoromo, you have to stay with me, you know.”

“Hien!” Thosi hisses, laughing. “The ferryman will hear you!”

He lowers his voice, but there’s a wicked glint in what she can see of his eyes. “I am no shinobi, but I can move quietly when I like. I shall slip into your camp and steal the hagoromo, and when you look for it you will find me instead. And then you will not fly off any more, will you? You’ll stay and be my bride?”

The word snatches the air from Thosi’s lungs. Heat blazes in her ears; tingling sparks erupt on the back of her neck. She stares down at Hien’s tilted grin, at the embers glowing in his cheeks, and tries to speak through a mouth gone dry. “I—your—” She swallows hard. “You are a clever man, my lord hare, but you are very drunk.”

“Not so drunk as all that.”

His voice is softer still now, the wickedness gone from his gaze. He’s looking at her with a dreamy, dazzled expression, like she holds the secrets of the universe. Thosinund cannot look away.

“You’ll stay with me,” he whispers. Reaches up to brush the backs of his knuckles over her cheek. “Won’t you, Thosinund? My lady fox? Stay with me always?”

She catches his wrist, kisses the base of his palm. “We’ll see about tonight, first.”

---

[Note: Inspired by Natsuko Ishikawa’s lore here.]

[rhymingteelookatme]

Prompt #4: Nothing More

Words: 468 | day 4: Clinch

-

“Please just kiss me already,” Thosinund blurts.

Haurchefant blinks. The light of understanding dawns in his eyes. “So that's why there isn't a sign of even the smallest ogre anywhere about.”

“Couldn't take chances.” She's beginning to feel a bit silly, and so warm that the chill Coerthan winds seem like the breezes of Costa del Sol, but she presses on. “And I know they can't see us here even from the topmost tower of Dragonhead. Not so much as a glimpse. So- well...”

Her breath catches in her throat. Haurchefant steps in and he's looking at her, with delight- approval- anticipation... “Of course, my dear,” he says. “I thought you'd never ask.”

Faster than thought his arms are around her, wrapping her tight as his lips meet hers, and Thosi feels herself growing yet warmer by the second. She sinks into the embrace, gathering him to her, relishing even the chill of his mail through her shirt. And to think she'd worried that it might be too little protection in the snow. Pa's right—a Sea Wolf doesn't get cold! She laughs against Haurchefant's lips; he hums a query, but she only tugs him closer.

Gods, she's missed him. Since that delirious night of the blizzard she's thought of almost nothing but him: of ways and times and plans for seeing him like this again. Feeling him like this, again. Now her arms are locked around him and she's breathing him in—the brush of his hair, the scent of his skin, the sweet taste of his mouth. There can't be a heaven better than this, this moment right here. She'll fight every one of the Twelve about it. (With the possible exception of Menphina. And the Keeper. Okay, two exceptions.)

They pause then, to breathe, and Althyk help her Haurchefant is snuggling his head on her shoulder. Thosi thinks her heart may stop.

“Is this okay?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. “That I already cleared the place out before I brought you here?”

Haurchefant chuckles, not moving from his newfound pillow. “I expected naught less. Truthfully, when you invited me out to make sure the Weeping Saint remained undisturbed, I was shocked to think that you might have left even one ogre behind—a hero does nothing by halves, least of all a fighter like you.”

“And you're not- disappointed...?”

He pulls back from her then, looking her square in the eye. “Disappointed? Whatever do you mean?”

Thosinund swallows. “Just that, er. There wasn't any fighting.”

Haurchefant holds her gaze for a second longer, then leans up and kisses her soundly. When their lips part once more, Thosi's head feels so light she fears it may fly away. “...I take it that's a no.” She pauses. “Tell me again?”

He beams. “I should like nothing more.”

[rhymingteelookatme]

Kuranosuke, because ‘Princess Jellyfish’ is a heckin good manga (that’s Ascella’s)

Agatsyng, because “amber song” is just pretty (Thosinund)

Percinet, after a fairy tale prince (Livorette)

Etienne, because it just sounds nice (Sélysette) 

hey ffxiv peeps tell me your chocobo names i wanna know!!

mine is named haribou cause i love gummy bears haha

[rhymingteelookatme]

Happy 28th namedaaaay :D :D :D Of course Thosi gets the Dirndl’s Attire, because it was practically made for her. 

[rhymingteelookatme]

Prompt #29: shotgun

Words: 218 | Day 29: Paternal

-

“Maaaa,” Kroemsath calls, over the clatter of the wheels. “Thosi won’t stay still! She’s gonna fall out!”

“No I’m not!” Thosinund shouts. Just to prove it, she scrambles from her spot at the back of the cart to a new one at the front. “See? I’m fine—aagh!” A bump in the road bounces the cart and throws her momentarily off balance.

Pa’s shoulder is right there, though, and Thosi catches herself on him. “I’m fine,” she repeats, triumphant. “Right Pa?”

Wheidoen groans. “Thosi, please, sit down. You almost did fall there.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Enough of that,” Ma cuts in from the driver’s seat, not turning around. “I can’t have any of you falling out now. We still have another half-bell before we get to your Aunt Syhrael’s house.”

Thosi puts a foot up on the edge of the cart, one hand on her hip, and raises an imaginary sword in the other. “I don’t fall out of anywhere. I’m the pirate queen!”

At this point Pa turns round from his seat next to Ma and smiles at his daughter. “Well, how would you like to sit up in the prow, then?”

Thosi grins wide. “Good idea, first mate.”

He scoops her into his arms and settles her on his lap, as the family cart drives on.

[rhymingteelookatme]

Sensory prompt! Being so close that you can feel your lips brush when you whisper.

Good old number 36! Aka ‘O My Heart’ pt 2 (the steamquel). Also also known as how I took 2308 words to answer the one dang prompt. Infinite thanks to @eremiss for being my beta reader/editor, once again! 

Under a cut because we’re getting serious with the lemons here, people…

-

Over the weeks of her absence, Thosinund has had some ideas about seeing Hien again- to put it indirectly.  

She had thought to say “Come here,” or perhaps simply say his name. She had thought she might sweep him up into a joyous spin, or else pin him playfully yet passionately to the wall. She had thought… oh, a million things.

What actually happens is this:

Thosi shuts the spare-room door.

Turns around.

And finds herself with a sudden armful of gravity-defying Doman prince, who’s kissing her like his life depends on it.

She is at once delighted and quickly, dizzyingly aroused. Hien’s teeth tease at her lower lip, his fingers knotting in her hair; she staggers a little as his legs wrap firmly round her waist. Of course this means that she gets to catch him under the thighs for support, gets to cup both her hands around his ass, and she can’t resist—she has to take that double handful and squeeze just a bit. He moans into her mouth, a desperate sound that shoots straight to the top of her skull and ricochets right down her spine, leaving a trail of heron-bumps in its wake.

Bed, she thinks hazily. We need the bed.

But she doesn’t want to stop kissing him, so she doesn’t. She moves blindly through the room, scattering minor bits of furniture before her, as he tugs at her hair and ruts himself against her ribs. She doesn’t stop til she’s rounded the screen and her knees find the side of the bed.

“Thosinund,” Hien gasps when she breaks the kiss to lower him to the mattress and half-falls, half-climbs on after him. “Thosinund, oh gods-”

“Hien,” she responds in a fierce whisper, and reclaims his lips. She has been parched without his kisses and she drinks this one down, relishing the rhythm of his mouth moving with hers, the way he tastes somehow warm and cool at the same time. Sunshine and spring air. Plum blossoms over shaded water.

They fumble at each other’s clothes, their fingers made clumsy with urgency- but knots come undone and sleeves are escaped, and somewhere in the middle of it all their positions are reversed. The bedclothes wrinkle under Thosi’s newly bare back as Hien flings aside the last of his garments with a triumphant grin. She has a brief impression of brown shadows where his bruises used to be—then he is back in her arms, all warm skin and eager mouth. 

He kisses not just down her body, but up and around and all over, like he’s trying to be everywhere at once. One hand finds her breast while the other pins her wrist to the mattress. He laughs when her thighs spring apart at the merest touch of his knee–then hums low in surprise as said knee meets the damp patch between her legs. 

“Oh,” he whispers, appreciative. “Oh my.”

Her arousal is almost painful; she can practically feel herself dripping, feel her pulse throbbing through her core. Even the littlest forward shift of his thigh forces her to bite back a whine. 

“So wet,” he breathes, and she whimpers when he nudges into her again. 

“Please,” is all she can think, all she can say. Please, please don’t make me wait—but his knee is firm against her now and she is helplessly rocking into him, her other hand now pinned like the first, dizzy with lust—

—until her desperation takes over and she writhes free of his hold, seizing his waist to make him stop. She did not cross time and space twice over for this- this bullshite.

“Something wrong?” he asks, his voice light even as his widened pupils make his gaze dark and promising.

“Hien,” she grates out, “if you d-ohhh…”  and the word dissolves into a moan because he’s already slipped a clever hand down to trace the seam of her lower lips. His fingertips trail through the well of her slick, over and over, making shivers chase each other through her veins.

“That’s better,” he murmurs, and she pants her agreement, canting her hips upward to urge him on. He will not be hurried but he does not slow down, and she throws back her head when he sinks his first two fingers deep inside her.

He’s trembling too, she notices faintly, but why? Perhaps because it’s been so long. He’s kissing down the length of her now, caressing with his other hand as he goes—then his head is down at the level of her thighs, his breath warm on her skin; his tongue begins to move on her clit as he pumps his fingers steadily in and out of her.  

It is at once almost too much and far, far from enough. Thosi clutches the sheets in a pale-knuckled grip to stop herself from simply seizing Hien’s hair and having her way with his face. He’s got four fingers moving in her now, twisting and thrusting, thick knuckles making divine friction while his tongue laps her up. She’s soaking wet inside and out, pleasure mounting through her every limb; his fingers are the flint striking true at her steel—

—and just like that she’s coming, back arching, with a strangled cry that’s half his name and half a wordless, keening wail.

Hien’s rhythm falters at her cry; when it ends, when she is left dazed and dreamy on the bed, she looks down to find delight spreading over his face. He sits up, gently withdrawing his fingers, raising his other hand to his chin and finding something there that brings out the most devilish of grins. His eyes snap to meet and hold her own as he makes a great show of wiping his jaw clean.

Thosi draws a stuttering breath, her ears aflame. “I,” she begins. “Er.”

“Oh no,” Hien interrupts, grinning like a cat. “My lady fox is surely not sorry for the great favor she has just granted me. She may say so, but I won’t believe it.”

“But I didn’t mean to—so soon—I…” Words scatter like so many fish as she tries and fails to complete the sentence. “I wanted it to be—together. With you.”

He softens at that, taking her hand, and presses a kiss to her palm. “I think that can be arranged. When you are ready, of course.”

She pulls herself together just enough to maneuver into a sitting position with the pillow at her back. Hien is at her side in the blink of an eye, his kisses and caresses smoothing her into one piece again. When she has regained the energy to fold him properly into her arms, he lays his head on her chest with a long, almost silent sigh. For one moment they are utterly still, perfectly content.

But not finished yet, by any means. Thosinund soon finds her blood stirring again; her pulse rises as her head clears. “Hien…”

“Yes?”

“Come here,” and when he lifts his head she pulls him into a firm, decisive kiss.

His hair is somehow still tied in its usual place at the top of his head. Time to change that, Thosi thinks, and with a neat tug she sends the sleek black flood spilling down his back. She fills one hand with it, weaving up and through to the roots, alternating sharp pulls with soothing massage. All the while she keeps kissing him, holding him, letting her other hand play over his spine and his shoulders until he is fair shuddering in her embrace.

“I take it,” he says unsteadily when she releases his lips, “I take it you are quite recovered, then?”

“Entirely,” she purrs, raking her nails ever so lightly over the back of his neck. “Turn around, my lord hare. If you would.”

He obeys, with only a little difficulty, and settles himself on her lap; it is her turn to be delighted when she sees how he is standing to attention. She reaches around and down to take firm hold of his cock- her hand is big enough to engulf it almost completely. “Aaah, fuck,” he hisses, the shiver that passes through him neatly trapped between their bodies.

“Really,” she smirks, gripping him a little tighter before she starts to move in earnest. “Have you been saving yourself for me, my lord?”

“I could ask you the- haah- same thing,” he shoots back. “You- nnng- certainly seemed ready enough- ah!- for me.”

“Funny thing about saving the world,” she breathes into his ear. “It doesn’t leave much time for aught else. But you knew that.”

“Ffffuck the world…”

“Not the world. Just you.”

She loves the way he strains under her strokes, the way his heartbeat thunders against her ribs as he tries to steady himself by grasping her knees. She could swear he’s growing yet stiffer in her fingers with every pass of her palm, every twist of her wrist. She swipes her thumb over the head of him and he nearly shouts, except that she catches the sound under her other hand just in time. She does it again, the silky pool of pre smoothing her way, and his muffled yell is the sweetest thing she’s ever heard.

Really, she shouldn’t tease him. She resumes her stroking, albeit faster now, and his hot breath matches her pace. Then he gives two quick squeezes on her knee- their signal that he wants to speak.

“Thosinund,” he gasps the instant she removes her hand. “If you don’t stop now I won’t be- I can’t-”

“Of course.” She cinches the base of him tightly with her thumb and forefinger, just to be safe, and presses a kiss to his hair as he backs down from the edge.

“Right,” he finally says, sounding more like himself. “All clear. You can let go now.”

When she does he turns to face her in a flash, crushing his lips to hers in a bruising kiss that brings the ache between her legs rushing back. In seconds she’s slid down, he’s lined up, and he’s inside her with one glorious thrust. 

“Ohhhhh,” emerges quite unbidden from Thosi’s throat, a low and longing sound. Hien’s cock stretches her beautifully, fills her in a way at which his fingers only hinted, and her eyes flutter shut as she savors the feeling. He pauses to let her adjust, so long that she begins to wonder. 

“Something wrong?”

“Just… need a moment…” His voice has gone husky, even ragged. When she looks, she finds his eyes have shut as well, his hair falling over his scarred shoulder, his lips slightly parted in an expression of something like bliss. “One moment,” he repeats.

She lets him have it. And another, and another, so that impatience soon replaces her wonder. She pulls at his waist, clamps herself down around him, and still he does not move.

Just as she’s on the brink of madness, his eyes meet hers with a mischievous glint- and all at once he’s fucking her hard and fast, seizing her hips to drive that gorgeous cock into her core. She leans up to catch his lips with her teeth, to knot her hand in the curtain of his hair, to claw at his back and his neck and his ass and leave marks everywhere she can reach. Every move she makes- every bite, every scratch- spurs him to fuck her deeper, filling the room with the sound of skin and slick, bringing her higher and higher.

It is no longer a question of where she wants him. It is only a question of when they arrive.

“Hien—Hien, I’m close—”

“Yes,” and his grin is feral, his pace somehow even faster. “So am I—kami, Thosinund—so close—”

He slips a hand between them to find her clit again, letting the rhythm of his thrusts move his thumb over her swollen bud; she howls high and thin at the added sensation.

“So warm,” he pants, “so tight—oh gods—”

And that’s it, that’s it, she’s crashing over her peak, his name spilling from her lips over and over, half chanted, half sobbed. Her love soon follows, his hips bucking and stuttering to a final halt. Spent, exhausted, limbs gone slack, they lie unable to do aught but cling to each other and wait for their breath to return.

When at last they can move, Thosi is eternally grateful to find bathing materials well within arm’s reach. A small table near her side of the bed holds a basin, a few small towels, and a full water jug. She pushes upright and busies herself with them all, dampening cloths, wiping and refreshing, til she feels clean once more. Somewhere in the midst of this Hien bestirs himself to do the same.

“I wasn’t quite honest, before,” she tells him, once they have finished with the washing and found a dry spot on the bed.

“Not honest about what?”

“I did try to… take care of myself, while I was gone. But, well…” She gives a rueful laugh. “It only made me miss you more.” Also, she does not add, having a ghostly voyeur is distinctly unhelpful.

Hien does not chuckle, as she thought he might; instead he laces his fingers through hers and nods. “It was the same for me—I would start with the warmest thoughts of you and end by simply praying you were safe.”  

Tears prick at Thosi’s eyes, but she does not let them fall. “Oh, Hien…”

He moves up to kiss her then, a kiss so tender it might break her heart. His lips are still close enough to brush her own when he draws back to speak: “I am… unspeakably happy that you’re home.”

“Well,” she whispers, smiling. “I’m happy to be home.”

She gathers him in to her and pulls the nearest blanket up over them both, feeling fragile and warm and loved.

[rhymingteelookatme]

#i want an emote where you can pick people up and carry them off

The Exarch was then carried off into the sunset and never seen again.

[rhymingteelookatme]

#60 I said “I HAVE AN IDEA!” :D

And I have did it! :D 

Words: 1252 | dialogue prompt list here

-

“Please, love,” Haurchefant says, voicepractically dripping with honey and butter. “I’ll do anything.” 

Thosinund makes a noise that is part laugh, partgroan. On the one hand, she cannot quite believe what he’s asking. On the otherhand, this is Haurchefant- dear, darling, completely madHaurchefant, who (somehow) is maddest of all about her. She slides down in thearmchair, shaking her head.

“Anything,” Haurchefant repeats,purring for emphasis. 

“I don’t doubt you would,” she replies, “butmy answer is still no.”

Haurchefant sighs, flopping down on the bed(which creaks at the impact), and she will not look but sheknows anyway that he’s putting the back of his hand to his foreheadoh-so-dolefully. “Alas… that I shall never know this most perfect of joys…Other men may seat their sweethearts gaily on their knees-”

“Without fear of crushing their kneecaps,” Thosicuts in, for the tenth time that evening. “Because their sweethearts aresignificantly smaller than they are.”

“And I am denied this one earthly pleasure merelybecause mine is a goddess?” 

Now she really can’t look at him. “Yes, youare,” she says, trying to sound stern as heat rushes to her cheeks, makingembers of her ears. “Don’t you go thinking you’ll fluster me out of this.”

There is a brief pause, filled with severalrustles and thumps as Haurchefant rolls this way and that across the bed. Justas Thosi is opening her mouth to advise him that this too will have no effect,it stops.

Then: a tiny gasp, and Haurchefant says somethingvery quietly.

“Hm?” She turns her head just slightly.

“I… v’n idea.”

“What?” A little further turn.

“I said,” Haurchefant announces, his words risingto a triumphant near-yell, “I have an Idea!” 

She jumps, fingers spasming into a brief grip onthe arms of the chair, and looks to him at last. There he stands, all loosewhite shirt and woolen leggings and bare feet on the rug, his face alight withthat familiar glow. “And what is this idea you’re shouting about?” 

His mouth curls into a grin. “Tell me, love.Of all the exercises in this camp’s daily training- at which am I theuncontested champion?” A half second later- “Correct: the squat. And uponwhich joint does a successful squat depend? Why, the knees. Now, I ask you,what better proof is there of the strength of said parts-?”

“Oh yes, when they’re moving the weight they moveevery day-”

“I thought you might say that,” hecounters. “So my proposal is this: defeat me at my own game.”

She stares at him. “…A squat contest?”

“Precisely!” He beams like a one-man band. “Ifyou win, it simply proves you are a goddess, and not to be trifled with. If Iwin, well- you shall see how comfortable a lap can be, at long last. In eithercase, I promise you I shall be satisfied on the subject once for all. What doyou say?”  

Oh gods, how is she meant to refuse such an eagerface? With such an absurd idea?

“Fine,” she relents, crossing her arms. “But wemust have a judge.”

“Of course we shall have one! Only name them, mydear, and I shall name the day.” Haurchefant hops happily from one foot to theother, clapping his hands thrice in his glee. “Ah, you’ll see, you’ll see…!”

Thosi snorts, quite unable to hold back her owngrin. Name the day indeed.  

-

The Intercessory floor is weirdly empty with themeeting table leaned up against the wall. The judge insisted on a clear space,however, and promptly moved the furniture himself to facilitate it. Thosinundand Haurchefant stand a few fulms apart, feet planted, warmed-up and waiting.

“You’re going to regret this,” she mutters tohim.

“I assure you I shall not,” he says, out of theside of his grin.

“Now then. All parties ready?” GodbertManderville inquires, as though he does this every day.

“Ready,” Thosi answers.

“Ready,” declares Haurchefant, with relish.

“Time is set. On my count- three… two… one… go,”and Godbert clicks his stopwatch.

Round one: twenty squats, five minutes, pace setto the sound of the watch’s ticking hands. Both parties advance. Rounds two andthree- respectively ten and fifteen minutes, each increase bringing itscorresponding score of squats- are the same. Thosi’s thighs burn, while herears are fair set to turn her hair to ash, but she refuses to yield.

By the end of round four, Thosinund is down toher camise and fully sweating. Haurchefant, his own torso bared in the interestof “costume parity” (his phrase), is otherwise utterly unfazed by the exercise.He is, however, concerned for her.

“We needn’t go on with it, you know,” he offers.

Thosi knocks back her water with a vengeance. “Ohwe’re going on with it.”

“Last round,” Godbert announces, “and may Icongratulate both contestants for making it thus far. Thosinund, ready?”

She nods, keeping her breath on an even keel,hoping to encourage her quivering legs by her lungs’ example.

“Lord Haurchefant, ready?”

“Aye,” he says, all controlled eagerness.

“Three… two… one… go,” and the watchclicks once more.

Thosi breathes herself down, and up. Down, andup. Focuses on the far wall. Down, and up, on and on, and for almost a fullminute she thinks she might just win this thing.

Ten squats later, her bottom meets solidly withthe floor, and the stopwatch clicks off.

“Victory to Lord Haurchefant!” Godbert is absolutelydelighted. “Oh, well done that man. What say you to a bonus round, sir?”

“A tempting offer,” Haurchefant replies, “althoughwe may have to defer it to a later date; I am sure you have further matters towhich you must attend. In assuring me of your qualifications as judge for ourlittle competition, Mistress Haldkhanwyn gave me to understand that you are knownas the Sovereign of Squat.”

“Among other monikers,” Godbert chortles. Theconversation continues, but Thosinund listens no further; she retrieves hershirt and retreats quietly to the corner, alone with her thoughts.

-

Haurchefant does not immediately claim his prize,that night or the next. But Thosinund has resigned herself. If the man wants tolose the use of one leg, or both, she’ll not deny him any longer.

“All right, champion,” she says to him, the thirdnight after his victory. “Let’s have it.”

He blinks. “Have what– oh! Oh yes! Certainly!” Scramblingto the sturdiest chair in the room—the fireside armchair—he plants himselffirmly therein and dusts off his lap (with only a little exaggeration). “Voila,my dear. Your throne awaits.”

She can’t help laughing a little at his choice ofwords. Still, there’s a slight chill in her hands that has nothing to do withthe air in the room. She takes a few steps toward him. Stops. Starts again. Heliterally asked for this, she reminds herself. All but spelled it outwith torches in the snow. Before she can second-guess herself any further,she closes the remaining gap, turns and lowers herself swiftly yet carefully toa seat on his wool-clad thighs.

One second. Two seconds. Four, six, eight… but nota hint of a tremble does Thosinund feel from below. No sound of cracking boneor creaking wood comes to her ear. Still she does not dare to believe. Shekeeps counting. Thirty… thirty-four…

Haurchefant, when she looks, is giving her thesoftest of smiles. “You see, love? No trouble at all.”