#and it in turn snaps thancred out of his hesitation and makes him realize that he really cant afford to put it off anymore

[haunted-xander]

Thinking about how Thancred and Ryne's respective behaviours affect their dynamic and each other's behaviour in regards to said dynamic and how neither of them is actually directly caused by the circumstances, just exacerbated.

Thancred is reticent and guarded as a product of his enviourment and all his training and work as a spy, where vulnerability is a weakness and is like to get you and your loved ones hurt or killed. He's never had an opportunity or need to be open and vulnerable with people, as everyone he was close to either didn't need it as badly (like Minfilia, who had F'lhaminn as her primary source of emotional support, and could already see just how much Thancred cared for her even if he couldn't actually show it properly) or worked close with him and knew that this was necessary (like the Circle/Scions).

Ryne values everyones thoughts and feelings over her own because she was raised by Ran'jit, who viewed her more as an object of his repeated losses and grief of those he couldn't protect before her. She's more a memento than a person, and so she's been told her entire life that her feelings and opinions don't matter in the slightest. She never got the chance to learn they mattered either, because she spend the last 3 years almost entirely alone with Thancred who never indicated either way.

And when these two are put against each other they end up feeding the root problems. Thancred's emotional distance makes Ryne assume he doesn't care about her and by extention, her thoughts and feelings. Ryne's over-valuing of his words make him even more reluctant to speak up because he doesn't want to sway her any given way, which is exactly what would happen because she values his feelings so much.

It's an endless and terrible cycle that neither are really able to break out of on their own. It's not really either one's fault but it still falls to them to deal with it. They can't break it themselves but they also can't have it broken by anyone else either. They have to both be confronted about it and realize that this is never going to work. Thancred needs to learn he can't just keep saying "not today" and Ryne needs to learn that regardless of her view of herself she can't let other's feelings decide her life for her. Vulnerability isn't a weakness nor is self-destructive sympathy a strength.

[kootiepatra]

#FFxivWrite2023 - Day 14: Clear

"Hey, let's take this neutral-to-positive word and make angst about it." - my brain, apparently. [Spoilers for the very end of ARR patches, although if you have yet to get that far, then this is a WILD tag to be browsing.]

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

Keimwyda barely had time to realize her bonds had been cut before a large, powerful hand grabbed her by the arm and yanked her to her feet. It was Raubahn—his eyes intense, burning with rage and grief and adrenaline. He pulled her behind a pillar, putting it between them and the rest of the fighting. 

He spoke as a man who knew he had but an instant to say what he wished to. “I never doubted you. Not for a moment. But there is more to this than I yet understand.” He ducked a quick glance around the pillar and growled a quiet curse at what he saw. He turned back to her, urgent, insistent. “Flee this place. Clear your names. Find the vermin who orchestrated this. Do not stay to fight. GO.”

She barely heard him. Her eyes were riveted, aghast, to the blood pouring from the wound where his arm should be.

Seeing that she was hesitating, he shoved her towards the door. Yda caught her as she staggered. Minfilia locked eyes with her, saying nothing. She just nodded with a terrible solemnity. Y’shtola already had the door open. It was time to go.

Keimwyda still felt as if she was in a daze—but she found her legs, and followed her friends. 

As they ran, Thancred met them. Thank the gods. They were getting out of here.

Yda and Papalymo were the first to peel off, urging the others to run ahead while they bought them some time from their pursuers. Keimwyda could not fathom it. She was the Warrior of Light. She was sent into battles, not away from them. It felt so wrong. It was also terrifying. If the people who so often bade her fight were now telling her to flee, she could not but take it with the utmost seriousness.

It did not make it feel any better to leave behind the very Scions who recruited her.

But the other three were urging her on, Minfilia tugging at her arm. It cut through her confusion just enough. She would trust them. She had to. She kept running.

Further they fled, into the depths of the city, seeking to escape its monumental stone walls by going beneath them. The ancient waterways were not well-known, hopefully even to the traitors. 

And then the sound of footsteps behind them prompted Thancred and Y’shtola to stop.

“Keep going,” Thancred waved at them, trying to still sound cavalier.

“What do you mean to do?” Minfilia asked, sorrowful disbelief in her voice.

Y’shtola’s face was stone. “Only that which is required to ensure that the dawn’s light survive to brighten the morrow.”

Keimwyda’s head fairly swam to leave yet more people behind, but a single thought snapped into clarity through the fog. Of course. Minfilia. They had to get her out of here. Yes, protect Minfilia. Keimwyda would escort her. She would make her own desperate last stand if she needed to. They could not lose the Antecedent.

Not even a full minute after the two remaining Scions had continued their flight, Minfilia suddenly stumbled to a halt. “Hydaelyn,” she breathed.

“What is it?” Keimwyda asked, skidding as she attempted to stop.

Minfilia’s eyes clouded over, looking not entirely unfamiliar to a vision from the Echo. “She speaks to me.”

Keimwyda’s mind raced. Is She going to save us? She remembered Her words about light in the darkness, and the way She had impossibly preserved Her champion from the Ultima Weapon. Maybe all was not lost after all. Maybe She could do something about all this. Keimwyda felt a tenuous spark of hope.

Minfilia kept listening for another few seconds, before gasping an anguished, “No…”

That small hope collapsed into dread.

The Antecedent gave a pained look, and took half a step backwards in the direction from which they had just come. 

Keimwyda’s mind began swimming once more.

“I must remain behind… but you cannot stay with me.”

“No,” she replied, moving towards her. “The others… they are all fighting that you may escape. I can go back. We need you. You are the Antecedent.”

“And you are the Warrior of Light.” Minfilia said firmly, taking another step away, holding up her hand to stop her.

But Keimwyda did not stop. “Which is why I should be staying and fighting! Not you, not anyone else!”

Minfilia shook her head. “Please. You must go on. You are hope—for the Scions and for all the realm.”

“As if you are not?”

“You must escape. It is the only way.”

Keimwyda hardly ever raised her voice, and never at any of the Scions. Not until now. “This isn’t right!” she cried. “It doesn’t make any sense!”

The Hyuran woman looked heartbroken, but did not move. She spoke with a grave, punctuated tone, emphasizing every word. “Keimwyda. I heard Hydaelyn.”

The Warrior of Light could find no reply. She could just stare numbly as the Antecedent turned and ran with purpose straight back towards the danger they were fleeing.

And then she was alone.

Before she could even complete her internal debate about rebelling against Minfilia’s orders, a terrible thunder shook the whole tunnel—a few stones shaking loose from the ceiling nearby, and a devastating crash resounding just around the bend. 

She could not even find the voice to scream.

She could not think. She could barely breathe. What could she do? Where should she even go?

You must escape, her panicked mind managed to remember. That’s right. Minfilia told me…

The Warrior of Light turned and started walking, then jogging, then breaking into a dead sprint as fast as her legs could carry her. She was alone. Tears began to brim in her eyes, burning like fire in the foul air of the waterways. She heard nothing but the sickening squelch of muck under her boots, competing in rhythm with the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears. Her mind latched onto another voice—Raubahn’s, this time, as if punctuating her footfalls.

Flee this place. Clear your names.

Flee this place. Clear your names.

Flee this place. Clear your names.

Flee this place…

Gods be good. 

There were no names left to clear.

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2020 #2: Sway

((Early ARR))

The heat of Vesper Bay rose off the pavements of the harbor town, even as the sun sank over the distant horizon line across the water. Thancred watched the minstrels set up, the dancing girls waiting for the new songs they would play. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of their newest recruit crossing the square, also studying the change in the town’s energy.

“Aeryn!” He called, a hand raised in greeting.

She nodded and smiled, coming over to meet him. “Need something?” She asked.

He shook his head. “No no, nothing like that. I just thought you’d want to stick around and see what’s happening here, before returning to the Waking Sands.”

She only replied with that quizzical little head tilt she often made, dark brows drawn together. Thancred gestured to the square. “The hot day ends, the cool night begins, and in between, there’s a perfect time for--ah, there!”

A lute was strummed and a drum began to beat. Someone had a fiddle, and there were two different kinds of pipes. They started off with a merry jig, the dancing girls laughing as they kicked their feet, eventually synchronizing their movements from long habit as they replied to the minstrels’ tune.

Thancred watched with a grin, sure to give each lady the attention she deserved--naught less than expected of him by the locals after all this time, and he had to admit it was a lovely view. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Aeryn’s fingers drumming along on her crossed arms. She almost shuffled her feet but seemed to stop herself, and he began to pay a bit more attention to his new colleague.

“Looking forward to tomorrow?” he asked casually.

She almost started, not expecting him to speak up--she had been engrossed in the music, he realized with a tinge of regret. She glanced at him and shrugged with a single small shake of her head.

“I understand if it may seem daunting, first assignment for our group and all. But you’ll have me along to lend a hand,” he continued, giving her a saucy wink.

She blinked at him, a bit of a blush rising on her face before she looked away quickly. It seemed rather easy to bring a bit of color to her tanned cheeks, he was noticing. That was far too tempting for fun, especially when it seemed the rare hint into her mind; the woman was naturally quiet.

“You’ll have to speak up a bit more to keep me company,” he teased lightly. “While I’m excellent with charades, a quick word works best in most circumstances.”

Her motions froze. “No.”

He was surprised by her tone; low and thick with anger and something else, old enough to make it difficult to identify without knowing her better. He turned to Aeryn, blinking. “I’m sorry, my friend; have I upset you?” Leave it to him to overstep--again, given his attempts at flirtation before realizing they would only ever be rebuffed.

“I say what I must, when I must,” Aeryn said, voice calmer than her stormy eyes implied.

“Ah, I apologize; I meant it as a jest, naught more. A poor one, obviously. I understand how it could sound, and I am sorry.”

She looked away for a moment. “I’ve been told I don’t speak up enough. As a judgment.”

“And I have been told I talk too much,” he replied with a grin, trying to diffuse the situation his careless words had created. “So nevermind all that; you continue the stoic heroics, while I do the talking. We can balance one another.” That got him a small smile, and some of the clouds clearing from her eyes. Such an expressive shade of grey they were, he noted again.

Aeryn looked back to the square. “...I’m sorry too.”

He quirked a brow. “For what exactly?”

“Snapping,” she said, then hesitated. If that was ‘snapping’, he’d hate to see her truly riled. “I was tol--I know not to take you too seriously in casual conversation.”

Gods, Yda really had stacked the deck against him with this one, hadn’t she? He would have to do something about that once they returned from their mission. He’d have plenty of time to think of an appropriate prank that wouldn’t get him into too much trouble with Papalymo.

In the now, however, Thancred only laughed. “Any warnings my esteemed colleagues gave you on that front--are probably true, to be perfectly honest.” He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged expansively, a sheepish look on his face. It was enough to draw out a brief giggle, so he called that a win. Perhaps tomorrow would not be so awkward after all.

The tune changed once again, something a bit slower but no less energetic, more strings and drums, a foreign sound he couldn’t quite make out, though Aeryn straightened a bit, eyes gleaming silver in surprise. One of the dancing girls, after some giggling discussion with her peers, began to move to the music, her motions graceful as she spun and wove across the space alone.

“Know this tune?” Thancred asked quietly, watching Aeryn more than the scantily-clad miqo’te.

Aeryn nodded. She was trying, and failing, not to move in time with the music.

“Thavnairian, isn’t it?” He continued, only half certain he had it right before she nodded again, a bit of mist gathering in her eyes now. He recalled Y’shtola mentioning Aeryn apparently hailed from the Near East. He turned back to the dancing girl. “Know you this dance, then?”

There was a moment’s hesitation. “Yes,” Aeryn finally replied. “But it’s really meant to be done with a partner.”

“You could join her,” he recommended, just to see her reaction.

Aeryn startled, that blush blooming across her features again. “I...wouldn’t want to intrude, and…” she looked around the square, and shook her head again.

“Can you dance?” he asked.

She gave him a sharp look and nod. Of course she could. Having seen how certainly she moved in combat, he could only imagine how graceful she would be in less fraught circumstances.

“I’d like to see it,” he said. “I’m fond of dancing myself. Good way to learn about someone, and foster a bit of trust, don’t you think?”

She opened her mouth, stopped, brows knit in thought for a moment. Then: “...Are you asking me to dance?”

He smirked. “I admit I’m unfamiliar, but the demonstration has been...notable,” he said, giving the dancing girl in the square an exaggerated look-over. He did not miss Aeryn rolling her own eyes in response. “And with a knowledgeable partner taking the lead, I’m sure to find my footing quickly.”

She looked at the square again, at the minstrels and the dancer, and for a moment, she seemed almost willing. But then she shook her head, stepping back. 

“It can’t be any harder than facing those paragons and their dark minions,” he said, quieter now. “And I see how your feet are itching to join. You’ve been swaying to the music this entire time.”

She blinked at him for a moment, eyes wide in surprise, stiffening as she realized how much her body language was giving away.

Thancred shrugged in good-natured defeat. “You don’t have to, of course; I simply thought I’d make the offer.”

“Maybe another time,” she blurted before turning and walking swiftly away from the square toward the Waking Sands.

He watched her go, sighing a little; he had hoped to convince her. It would have been an excellent way to gauge her outside of combat, when he was too often busy watching his own neck.

Ah well; in the meantime, the demonstrating dancer was trying rather blatantly to catch his eye as the song came to an end. He could worry about taking his new colleague’s measure on the morrow, as they journeyed to Drybone.

Perhaps once they returned he would find a way to convince Aeryn to dance.

[reikhafaara]

day 6 - avatar

Day 6 - Avatar

Tags: Reikh’a/Me’wo, other Scions floating around, Canon Divergence, What If (Me’wo takes the role of Shiva in Eden 8 instead of Ryne)

“I’ll do it instead.”

Reikh’a snapped to attention at Me’wo’s quiet words, sitting bolt upright where he’d been leaning against the wall of Eden’s central command. To be honest, he hadn’t actually been following their conversation very carefully. Me’wo was better at this sort of thing than him, and while Ryne’s explanations certainly made more sense to him than Urianger’s, the entire concept wasn’t really the easiest to grasp. Something about Aether and needing to create a representation of it, was all Reikh’a got. 

“Sorry,” Reikh’a said, pushing himself up to his feet. “You’re gonna do what instead?”

Thancred shot him a glance, mouth opening to say something or other, but Me’wo cut him off. 

“I am going to channel ice Aether to summon Shiva.”

Reikh’a’s jaw dropped. 

“To be fair,” Ryne said, stepping forward, “I believe I’m more than capable of—“

“But it is too dangerous,” Me’wo said, looking at her and then back to Reikh’a. 

Reikh’a nearly choked. “That sounds like a great reason to not do it at all!”

Me’wo had the wherewithal to at least look sympathetic at Reikh’a for a split second before he turned back to Ryne. There was a determined set to his shoulders, his tail stiff behind him, that Reikh’a knew as telltale signs that Me’wo, for once, was planning to stand his ground. 

Rare as that occasion might be, it almost always meant no one was going to sway him from his course; although Reikh’a would be remiss if he didn’t at least try, especially when the words “dangerous” were involved.

“I believe I will have a better understanding of what to summon,” Me’wo said calmly, his voice even. “I have faced Shiva before.”

“Shouldn’t that make you a better choice to fight Shiva?” Ryne asked, and Reikh’a balked at the word “fight,” stepping between the two so he could get Me’wo’s attention.

“Okay, hold on here,” Reikh’a said, reaching out to grab Me’wo’s shoulders. “Why do we have to do it this way again? Can’t we come up with a solution that doesn’t involve anyone fighting anyone?”

His question was Urianger’s cue, apparently, because the man stepped forward and gave Reikh’a a sympathetic, if somewhat tired, look. “We must needs restore the presence of ice aether to the Empty, and Shiva is the only primal of such aspect. As she was initially summoned via a host, that being Lady Iceheart, we must replicate the same environment.”

Reikh’a shook his head. “Okay, but can’t we come up with an ice primal on our own? Does it have to be Shiva?”

It was Me’wo’s turn to look at Reikh’a with something almost like concern, his eyes going slightly wide as he considered Reikh’a’s proposal. Reikh’a could tell what he was thinking, of course--the memories of their fights with Ramuh and Leviathan were fresh in both of their minds, and it was hard to ignore that there had been some notable… variances in the designs of those primals.

“Look, I can’t help that I thought of the big lightning horse--”

Me’wo shook his head, a fond smile creeping onto his lips. “I understand, Reikh’a,” he said. He pat Reikh’a’s chest comfortingly. “However, perhaps this approach would be the most… predictable.”

Reikh’a’s ears flattened against his head. Me’wo had a good point. They didn’t exactly have the best track record for conjuring up the images of primals to fight. And if Me’wo was in charge of this one, to the point he was physically taking the place of Lady Iceheart, perhaps things would be easier this time. More controlled. 

“Alright,” Reikh’a said. He gave Me’wo’s shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “I trust you, and I’ll do whatever you need me to, but no unnecessary risks or anything, alright?”

Me’wo simply smiled.

---

“I thought,” Reikh’a said, as he flicked a shard of ice away with his broadsword, skidding on the icy floor dangerously close to the edge of the platform where they’d chosen to summon the aspect of ice. “That this would be easier this time. Maybe we wouldn’t even have to fight for our lives or anything.”

Around him, the rest of the Scions were handling the fight with their own measures of grace--Urianger nearly slipped, masking the mistake with a well timed magic cast which lifted him off of the ground, and Thancred just narrowly managed to deflect an icicle that had been aimed for Ryne. 

Standing in the middle of the arena was Me’wo, glittering and resplendent with the power of Shiva spiraling around him. He looked beautiful, Reikh’a thought, even as Me’wo sent another spray of ice in his direction, forcing him to deflect it with a shield of dark aether. Shiva’s style suited him, and with the ice and snow whipping around them like a whirlwind, he looked even more supernaturally pale, glowing like a moon over the shiny stone beneath their feet.

They should have realized that allowing Me’wo to take into himself the aspect of Shiva would be a mistake, given the recent events and the impact the Light had had on his aether. At the very least Urianger should have spoken up. Reikh’a’d have to give him a stern lecture about keeping key details a secret--again--after they managed to quell the aether consuming Me’wo and clouding his judgement. 

For now, they were forced to fight.

Reikh’a spared Me’wo no quarter as they fought, Me’wo’s conjured blade of ice colliding with Reikh’a’s broadsword in a shower of frost. It was obvious the other man was hesitant to directly harm Reikh’a, choosing instead to launch his most fierce attacks toward Thancred or Ryne, which was a problem.

“Hey Me’wo,” Reikh’a said as he held against Me’wo’s attack, his feet skidding on the icy floor beneath him, pushing him closer and closer to the edge once more. “Now would be an excellent time to snap out of it.”

Me’wo’s eyes narrowed, but he did not respond other than to kick at Reikh’a’s legs in an effort to unbalance him. Skidding out of the way took considerably more effort than Reikh’a truly had to spare, and he ended up on his back a few feet away, panting and aching from where he’d crashed to the floor. 

Reikh’a groaned. “Guess not.”

The fight was long and hard, in the end, and were it not for Fray’s well timed intervention of dark aether, Reikh’a suspected Me’wo might’ve gotten the better of them; but in the end he’d snapped out of his aether controlled state, looking at Reikh’a with a flash of alarm a moment before the summon shattered around him like a broken mirror and he fell, hard, to the floor.

Reikh’a dropped his broadsword as he rushed to Me’wo’s side. He fell to his knees, looping an arm around Me’wo’s back as he helped his mate slowly sit up. Me’wo was shivering, chills wracking his body from the ice aether, and he was clutching his head, a pained expression on his face, but he seemed otherwise unharmed.

“You okay?” Reikh’a asked quietly. He took one of Me’wo’s hands in his own, rubbing his thin fingers to get some warmth back into them. “You you again?”

Me’wo groaned softly. “Yes, I think so,” he said. He pulled his head from his hands and opened his eyes to glance at Reikh’a, his face becoming flush a moment later with embarrassment. “I’m… sorry.”

Reikh’a shook his head. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said, pulling Me’wo up into his arms, giving him no choice but to let Reikh’a lift him off of the ground and cradle him bridal style against his chest. “No harm done, we’re all okay, and I guarantee that was enough ice aether to last the Empty the next hundred years or two.”

Me’wo’s flush deepened. “I hope so.”

So did Reikh’a, really. He wasn’t entirely keen on trying that out with Ryne too, if it came to it. Something told him it’d be just as much of a disaster.

[universal-kitty]

Hello! For the poetry prompts,' I may not believe in fate , but i believe in you ’ with G'raha Tia?

poetry starters

   “You could’ve warned me, you know.” G’raha sheepishly looked up from his studies, to the familiar face of an old friend. However pleased as punch he might’ve been to see them at any time previous, now was....perhaps not the time to be so excited about seeing his hero again. After all, things have gone in very topsy-turvy ways recently, and for Rhela to be upset at him is only natural.

   It’s what happens...when you conceal your identity from someone you not only care deeply about, but when the feelings are unexpectedly returned... Well. It causes far more issues than G’raha had originally hoped for.

   Perhaps not that “dying to save the person I cherish most” is much for “hoping for something” now, is it? A certain....healer Myst- Miqo’te would certainly remind him as much.

   With that glare they give him- the angriest he’s ever seen them- perhaps that assumption is accurate.

   “I am aware,” he says, as kindly and neutral as possible. “However, it would have not served either of us well, had you known my identity from the start. You must understand why I did what I-”

   “Don’t give me that crap,” they snap, tail and ears flicking in agitation. “I know you did those things thinking it would be for the better. So that you could....die like that. But don’t put my feelings aside here, G’raha.” His heart dared hope for meanings within those words, but he was quick to tamper them out.

   Another thing he desperately wanted, but could have nothing to do with: the feelings that had consumed him here in the First, pining away for a champion lost, but one that was still out there. That could yet assist him in saving the First without issue. In preventing the very calamity that happened upon this world!

   If only it had been so easy as his daydreams played them out to be...

   The sound of boots cuts off any further thought, watching Rhela stroll into the area with purpose, dark green eyes behind a pair of glasses trained on his pure, bright red. It made him want to fluster and avoid their gaze....as much as he wanted to meet their gaze head on, and never look away again.

   ....His resolve wavered in their light, and he glanced away but a moment before- unable to help himself- he looked back at them once more.

   Even while angry, they were still so cute... It’s simply not fair.

   “...I was worried about you,” they say after a lengthy pause, passionate gaze softening into such a worried, sorrowful expression that his heart broke into pieces on the spot. Hands raising unsurely, wanting to comfort, not knowing where to begin. “I don’t know....what I’m angry at, even. Am I mad at you for lying to me...? For you not being you or your stupid plan? For....getting one of my own friends in on it...!!”

   First contact in ages, and it’s Rhela pushing him harshly, G’raha stumbling in shock. Th-They’re so much stronger now! He could still distantly remember his youth... A small, playful push he well deserved for teasing them too much. It had been a strong wind, but this.... How much stronger did they get...?!

   “I-I.... You got me worried sick over so many things!” Ah, the anger was back. Though when they looked up at him again, ears laid back and.....tears...? In their eyes... “Worried about the people here, the lives being lost, where G’raha was, who you were......why I kept being so scared for you!!! It’s not fair that you led me on like that!!” Another push, though softer this time.

   A sob echoed in the room, G’raha’s heart- if not before- officially broken at their words. At the tears of a hero he’d come to treasure so much... How could he ever forget how emotional they were? The soundless cry as the doors closed shut...

   The red streaks in their hair, proof of their devotion to him. That his life had impacted someone- his own hero- so greatly, that the color of his own hair would live on theirs forevermore.

   “Say something, you-!!!!” On their next attempt to push him, G’raha indulged on a once passing thought. One that had toyed with his mind many times, distracting him from work and losing him in a world of daydreams that- all too often- Lyna had to snap him out of.

   He pulled them close, hugging them. A hopefully painless activity, as he was all too aware of the crystals and trinkets that decorated his outfit as the Crystal Exarch.

   “I am sorry,” he murmured, pain leaking into his voice. “My friend, it was never my intent to hurt you as I did. Were I able to, I would take your pain away... That being said, I fear I could not do things differently. I will not see to it that you save one life at the sacrifice of the many. If there is....another way, then I could, perhaps, consider that. As things are right now, however...” His voice wavered, feeling the small, yet strong arms of the Miqo’te in front of him embrace him in turn. His heart aching fiercely, wishing for nothing more but for this moment to last forever and-

   “I know.... I know, but it still hurts. It’s still not fair to me, G’raha...” Any concerns of pressing baubles seems to go right out the window when they’re nuzzling into him like this. (He can only hope those strong ears of theirs don’t pick up the racing of his heart...) “I want to do something for you. Anything. I just...” A shaky breath in. “I don’t want to lose you again...”

   “...I’m sorry, Rhela.” It feels like all he can do; apologize to them. Again and again, until momentary forgiveness can be achieved. Until they can accept that and, from there, find a way to progress without stopping him in his quest to save the First.

   This land who needs him as much as all and any lands need this beloved, treasured, Warrior of Light.

   “If it is any consolation,” he murmurs, a hand stroking their hair. Daring to hope, “if there is anyone out there who might find a way for things to end for the better, it would be you. You’ve always been incredibly determined like that.” Rhela’s head rises at his words, staring up at him with such a pleading look that- for a moment- G’raha forgets himself; a hand strokes their cheek, admiring the dark lines of their race. A naturally occurring feature for them, and one that suits Rhela all too well, he feels.

   “I may not believe in fate, but I believe in you.” He says it with such conviction, that for a moment, it feels....like truth. Like there is no possible way that they- together- could not ever fail in whatever they set their mind to. G’raha returning in full to the Source? Why not! Surely, anything could be possible. It’s simply a matter of-

    ......Of perhaps not cupping Rhela’s cheek like he has every intent of bowing down just a little bit lower to kiss them, how about that?

   He backs off in a rush, face flushing just as quickly as Rhela’s does, having realized at the same moment what the Exarch himself caught onto. It’s, perhaps, a great kindness that nobody happened to walk in on them, embracing like they were secret lovers....!! (The worst part is G’raha wondering how he could even respond to rumors like that...! How does one deny interest or feign lack of when all one has ever wanted was to be with that person?! It simply would never work out!!)

   “A-Ah...... Thank you, G’raha...”

   “It’s, ah....it’s no problem at all. You know I’m more than happy to support you and provide encouragement.” By the Twelve, he wishes to hide his visage away in his hood...!! This is killing him.

   Which is why it breaks his heart as much as it does make him relax a little when Rhela backs up for the door. “Well, I.... I better head out. There’s still so much to do, so much to see-”

   “O-Oh! Yes, of course...”

   “I’m sure.....Thancred or Alisaie is wondering where I am...”

   “Y-Yes. Do take care, Warrior.”

   “Mmmhm. You too.” And with all that awkwardness, they’re gone. As quickly as they came, but now leaving G’raha with a burning, aching hole of want in his heart. A hand coming up to absentmindedly clutch his robes- right over his heart- and stare where they had left.

   ....Once upon a time, he had woken up, virtually alone in a new world. One not his own, where the Warriors had long since died out. Not even Cid was there....nor anyone else who might have been a part of NOAH. A single Mystel- Miqo’te- and the star of the WoL, who- almost like a promise- indeed left a star behind in which to chart his desperate, hopeful course. But now faced with the realization that they would not so simply let him die.....and left G’raha with a hesitation of wanting to go in the first place...

   “...You make things so difficult,” he mused quietly, pulling up his hood and turning away from the door. “You say such things, not knowing that I, too, would like to........”

   He shook his head. Words were unimportant right now. More importantly.... He needed to do as Rhela bid him to do. They had not want him to go away a second time? Then gods willing, he could do something- anything- to make it happen.

[fheythfully]

an idea is like a virus [SHB AU]

What is the most resilient parasite? Bacteria? A virus? An intestinal worm? An idea. Resilient... highly contagious. Once an idea has taken hold of the brain, it's almost impossible to eradicate.

She does not mean to sulk, of course, but--she thought they’d miss her more. It’s an uncomfortable feeling, realizing that the time she spent worried about their sudden collapses and departure of souls had not been met by equal concern on their end. [an Inception-inspired AU]

[My Inception inspired AU is here! First thing I’ve written in a year so I am a little rusty. Click the read more or read on AO3.]

She does not mean to sulk, of course, but--she thought they’d miss her more. It’s an uncomfortable feeling, realizing that the time she spent worried about their sudden collapses and departure of souls had not been met by equal concern on their end. When the Crystal Exarch led her to the audience chambers of this world’s Crystal Tower and let her know of this world’s perils, she had been ready to bear the burden. She had set out for the sands of Ahm Araeng in search of Alisaie only to be met by ungodly heat, more unbearable even than the deserts of Thanalan on summer’s midday, and a quick greeting by the girl before her figure disappeared into the wilds and an assurance that she had it under control. At first it had been pleasant, although surprising, to suddenly find herself with an excess of time on her hands before the next amaro transport would be by to take her away in search of Alphinaud. She wandered the stalls of Mord Souq, tasting the strange delicacies of the local tribe and taking in the sights of the crystallized emptiness to the south. She did not get a chance to bid farewell to Alisaie before her departure, though the girl’s friend, a kindly hyur woman, let her know she’d pass on the message.  Alisaie has been busy, she told herself as the rolling sea of browns and golds blurred below her in the ascent of the amaro bearing her away. It only makes sense that she would have duties she cannot be pulled away from, especially in a hard place like this.

Kholusia looks enough like Vylbrand that it makes her queasy to see the state it’s in, especially once she spots windmills in the distance looking so much like her parents’ farm. The relief she feels upon seeing Alphinaud is nearly physical in its intensity, her soft spot for the boy she’s watched grow into a confident young man leading her to embrace him in sisterly affection. His body tenses under her touch and he pats her on the back, a touch awkwardly, before drawing away and laying out his master plan on how to infiltrate Eulmore. He talks with his hands, eyes on the glittering city in the distance, and soon enough the realization dawns upon her: he’s grown without her presence even further into his own. There is an assertiveness in him that had not been there before and a near dismissiveness she’s sure he does not mean, but it burrows under her skin anyway, leaving her feeling out of place at his side in a way that she has not in years.

Encountering Thancred and his young charge, the quiet girl named Minfilia, is uncomfortable to say the least. She knows he’s been here the longest of all the Scions, five years spent on his own adjusting to a new world and new dangers and politics that seems even harder to navigate than Ishgard’s had been. But the man has seemed to grow colder in his age, more abrupt rather than cunning and frustrated with everything--Minfilia defying him to find her, especially, and everything to do with the girl in general. She tells him he is being too harsh one night after he spends a good half a bell berating his silent charge over a misstep in battle she’d done, and Thancred levels her with a look she had not expected to see since Lahabrea’s possession.

“Don’t presume to know what it’s like for us, when you’ve only arrived now that our battles are nearly done.”

She does not speak to him much after that, for what could she say to dispute the truth of his words? The First seems to indeed be on its way to recovery due to no small part of what the Scions have been working towards all this time in her absence. She fights their battles, assures their victories; it is a relationship similar to the one she’d had with the group at the time of Ifrit, Titan and Garuda: she is their sword, and they wield her thus.

Staring up at the ever blinding skies, she misses Tataru. She misses Aymeric who had a cup of tea and a chat ready for her even amidst his busy work rebuilding Ishgard. She misses Lyse and the spars they’d have, the blonde boldly stating she needed time off to stretch her limbs. She had forgotten what it felt like to be an accessory and not part of the team.

The whimsical, near frightening colours and inhabitants of Il Mheg are not enough to thaw her relations with Urianger, who remains as unreachable as ever. Under the towering ancient boughs of Rak’tika she watches Y’Shtola hesitate to bid farewell to the family even she has now found for herself, lingering with one last gaze over Slitherbough as they depart. The other woman is politely friendly but the chasm suddenly between them yawns wide, and she watches Y’Shtola get smaller and smaller on the other side. She watches all the Scions disappear into the horizon away from her and feels small herself, an outsider to this group of people who’d found themselves perilously lost in a world not their own and built themselves a new life to survive.

Beside her, the Ascian wearing the body of the late Garlean emperor  tsks  . “So much for friendship,  hero .” The two of them sit apart from the rest of their group, a fire burning low between them, and she tells herself the suspicious glances cast their way are for his sudden appearance at her side. “So what happens when you kill all the Wardens, then? Will you be set aside like a rusty blade?”

She ignores him and pokes a stick into the dying embers of the pit. Emet-Selch laughs at her silence, gaze so heavy on her she can feel it burning a brand into her skin.

.

.

They return to Ahm Araeng and she speaks to the last remnants of her Minfilia. The sullen, quiet girl bearing her name and visage does not reappear at her side when she emerges. Urianger, when she finds the rest of the Scions, shakes his head when she asks about Thancred.

The less that is said about Ahm Araeng and the Warden there, the better.

.

.

She listens silently when Y’Shtola and Urianger pull her aside and tell her what she already feels within: the light is consuming her alive. She has become the Warden of the First Reflection.

There is nothing to be done to save her. Nothing in the books of the Crystarium, in the abyss of Allagan research spanning the depths of the Tower, and even the Exarch shakes his head, lips downturned, when he is consulted.

At last, she is a dead woman walking.

She thinks that, all things considered, it has been a long time coming.

.

.

The Light within her blurs together all senses and experiences, even memories; she remembers walking for what she knows is the last time through the Crystarium, entirely alone as she makes ready to depart. Bereft of weapons and gear she has the sensation of having flown somewhere, or perhaps she walked, but somehow she has found herself underwater in a city the likes of which she has never seen before. Or maybe it’s not entirely true; she thinks she’s dreamt of it before, or perhaps is dreaming now, walking streets as silent as a graveyard as she seeks out Emet-Selch and his offer of a dignified death.

Is she still breathing? Is she still living? She is not worthy of it. She feels the Light within her churning and hungry, straining against the threads of her soul and mortal shell holding it back. It’s only a matter of time before they snap and in a moment of sudden clarity she is overwhelmingly glad that the Scions are not present to see their vaunted Warrior of Light turn into a monster.

Blearily, she spots a figure before her. Unlike the others it does not move out of her way, but instead stands tall and stubborn in her path until she has no choice but to force her limbs around it. She hears a sigh, and then harsh fingers grip at her shoulder.

It is so unexpected and sudden that it grounds her. The corona of light that has been dimming her vision flares and she blinks, having no choice but to face the figure insisting on her attention. 

“Really?” It speaks, a woman’s voice, drawling and mocking and in Common and not the strange language she’s been unable to make out from the other inhabitants. “This is how you’re going to die? Walking to certain death like a martyr, happy to let a villain take your life into his hands? You disappoint me, hero.”

She’s lost for words, no small part due to being directly addressed in such a manner in what feels like a very, very long time--since she had come to the First, perhaps. It clears the fog up in her brain somewhat, some flickering semblance of self sluggishly batting away at the Light cocooning her thoughts.

The tongue in her mouth feels heavy, marble-like. “I have no other choice.”

The figure’s hand, still gripping her skin as if she is not burning its flesh on contact, tightens. “No choice? Don’t make yourself even more pathetic than you already are.”

On habit alone she tilts her chin and purses her lips. Stubborn to the end, apparently. “So what, you have some better ideas on how to not die and consume all of the First? I’m all ears.”

The mouth under the hood smiles in a way she knows it does not mean it. “You really think he won’t destroy this Shard after your timely death? Is this all it took for you to lose your brain?” A laugh, somehow familiar, and she bristles further. The city around her sharpens in its clarity and her chest expands in a deep, angry breath ready to let the stranger have it--and then another hand comes down upon the stranger’s, prying it away.

Emet-Selch stands before them, grasping the stranger’s arm. “That’s enough out of you,” he directs at her hooded companion. There is a certain flatness to his tone, a bite in his words she has not heard even directed at her. In response the figure shakes her arm free and moves to entwine her fingers with his, smiling mockingly, until the man slaps her fingers away in disgust. “Leave us be. You have no place here.”

The woman lets out a dismissive laugh. “I have no place to be here? Steps away from where you murdered me, and where you are about to do so again? Your humour has me turning in my grave, Hades.”

She’s submerged in the heavy silence that descends. Enough time for a single breath, and then the woman turns towards her again. Pale hands reach up to draw back her hood--and something within her screams that the action is wrong, she should not be witness to any of this--and then to remove the delicate white mask that sits perched across her nose and cheeks. She throws it aside on the ground and stomps it for good measure, until motes of aether rise up as the mask simply dissolves on the paved street.

“Astra,” Emet-Selch says, barely constrained fury shaking his voice. “Get out.”

The woman’s lips turn into a pretty pout. “You can make me leave any time you want, Hades. You’re just not wanting it hard enough.” To her she sends a conspiratorial smile, as if they are old friends sharing a secret. “That’s always been the case with dear Hades, you know. Forever wanting things but never knowing how to go about getting them the right way.”

A streetlight down the road goes out. She suddenly realizes she does not even know the name of this place, hidden deep on the ocean floor. She wets her lips. The sense of wrongness inside of her grows. “Who are you?”

Astra raises an eyebrow at her, eyes wide. “We look so much alike, and still that is the question you ask? You just keep finding new ways to disappoint me.” To Emet-Selch, she shakes her head. “You broke her so thoroughly, dear. I’m very hurt.”

Somehow, she is still breathing. Still living. The Light within her writhes, but she wants to know more: the city standing tall and desolate around her, this man named Emet-Selch-and-also-Hades, and the woman Astra before her, with such pale hair and eyes yet still undoubtedly  her . 

“Why do you look like me?” The hints of a demand enter her tone. “What is this place?”

“You finally start asking the right questions!” The lights around them all begin flickering, but Astra’s excitement is palpable as she claps her hands together and grins at her, all teeth. “I’ll help you out with another one: how did you get here?” At her confused silence, her grin stretches until she can see the canines peeking out, like a mummer’s mask at a horror show. “Try to remember, now. How did you get here, to the bottom of the ocean, to this gloriously dead city of Amaurot?”

She opens her mouth to answer, to say she flew to the coast of--somewhere, or took a boat, or-- “I don’t know,” she says instead. “I don’t--I don’t remember.” She frowns. “How can I not remember? Is it the Light?”

A cold hand settles on her cheek, curiously soft and at odds with everything the woman has been so far. Pale eyes swim with pity as they stare into hers. “Sweetling, the only Light within you is the blessing you’ve been carrying all this time.”

With a furious sound the ground beneath them cracks. A cacophony of noise follows as around them the buildings begin to cave into themselves; trees erupt with their roots torn wild from their carefully curated placements and somewhere beyond her sight, she hears the unmistakable sound of rushing water flooding the bubble of air surrounding the city.

She’d nearly forgotten Emet-Selch’s presence. With a hiss he tears the woman away from her, clutching her wrist in his hand with strength that will leave her with far more than bruises. “You damned woman,” he seethes and his form begins to shift, as if he’s been hiding a monster of his own beneath his human shell this entire time. “If only you would stay out of my way--”

Her wrist must be broken, but Astra only laughs. The city around them continues its rapid collapse. “As if it’s my fault you can't bring yourself to kill me,” she says, and with barely a flicker of her other hand, drives a knife of aether straight into his heart. “Fascinating, considering you had no such qualms the first time.”

Ella watches the life leave the Ascian’s eyes, and has a moment to wander if it had been the way Lahabrea had fallen, too; did you not need to sunder the soul, to ensure an Ascian did not merely jump into another inhabitable body? But no--Emet-Selch sags to the ground and Astra uses a toe to poke his body with a sigh.

She turns her eyes towards Ella, the knife of concentrated aether still sparking with magic in the palm of one hand. “He remembered me very horribly, I’ll have you know. I didn’t have one unkind bone in my body. Not to mention this manner of speech. How self-obsessed can one man get, to make his once-lover sound so much like him?” She tuts and shakes her head. “Guilt does such funny things to memories we hold dear.”

She approaches closer. The strange city of Amaurot around them has fallen, a tremendous wave of water coalescing behind the woman’s form.

It will be upon them in seconds.

“It’s time to wake up,” Astra says. She’s close enough that the Warrior can count the very faint freckles upon her nose, as if this strange duplicate of hers had even that tiny detail down. “You’ll be very confused, and very alone, and the void between worlds will be a frightening place indeed. But rest assured that your friends are waiting for you on the other side, and that this has been nothing more than a very real, and very bad nightmare.”

The touch of aether is hot and electric against her neck. Astra’s smile is trembling. “Make sure you kill him for good for me, will you?”

There is no chance to reply. The knife cuts her open.

[ainarosewood]

30 Day WoL Writing Challenge-Day 17-Comfort

@seaswolchallenge​ @ffxiv-writers​

I ended up going out of the sync I’ve been doing but I felt inspired to write this.  Shb Spoilers beneath the cut (mostly story references and location)

As they strode across the muddy ground the Scions couldn't help but admire the perfect bubble of air that Bismark left for them.

Ahead of them appeared to be some sort of structure embedded into the stone of the sea bed its light grey stone and golden accents standing out amidst the darker rock.

The others began discussing whether or not they should approach said ruins as Aylis sat down on a nearby damp rock pain wracking her body.

The Light was clawing at her very being, straining to be unleashed to overwhelm her.  It was held in check by Ryne's restraints and the Midlander’s own idea of turning the Shield of Light inward to contain it.

"Are you alright," the young Hume's voice rang in Alyis ears.

She looked at the young girl her blue eyes full of worry and concern and opened her mouth to speak, only to jump up pulling the girl behind her as the rock next to where Ryne had stood sprouted spiny tentacles and began charging forth.

Without hesitation Aylis immediately unslung her cane and cast Glare into what appeared to be the creatures maw.  It shrilled in anger and pain alerting the others of its presence.  Suddenly it appeared to curl in on itself and Aylis watched in horror as the beast transformed into a Sin Eater before their eyes.

Swiftly Alisaie charged in with Thancred beside her and the two of them dispatched the newborn Eater before it had a chance to strike. Aylis stood shaking her cane nearly falling from her grasp as she realized that she had turned the beast.

"How in Seven Hells?" Thancred began

"I....I did it.  I was trying to save Ryne, it was a single cast...." the Midlander stammered tears threatening to fall.

"Mayhap t’would be best if you do not attempt to cast again," Y'shtola murmered gently

Putting the cane away Aylis mutely nodded fighting against the tears whispering, "I...I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Alisaie snapped raw emotion in her tone, "All this time we have always relied on you to protect us.  Now its our turn and don't you dare say otherwise."

Aylis simply nodded not trusting her voice at the moment hating the pain she was causing the young Elezen.

The other Scions nodded in agreeance with the young woman's words and then they began making their way to the ruins  Aylis silently following ignoring the pain wracking her body.

Some time and several 'chores' later they found themselves staring at a shining city in the depths that the Ondu of the settlement nestled amidst the ruins they had seen, said belonged to the Ancients.

There was no doubt that this was where Emet-Selch had spirited the Exarch to.  Together they began to travel toward the city felling any fiends that got in their way.

Hours past and the constant battles were overtly taking their toll on the Scions.  Aylis felt useless for she couldn't even dare heal them when injured for fear of the Light within her corrupting them.  

Finally she stopped stating, "Everyone please....rest."

Alisaie clearly wanted to protest along with Y'shtola.  Thancred looked down right rebellious and Urianger and Ryne had twin worried expressions.

Alphinaud equally as worried cleared his throat tentatively asking, "Aylis are you sure?  We really don't know how much time....."

"Please," the White Mage pleaded tears threatening to fall, "I..I'm so worried about all of you please...stop surely there's enough time."

Thancred's eyes softened and he replied, "If your sure I do not see why we can't take a small rest."

Aylis merely nodded still fighting back the tears as the others swiftly made a makeshift camp.  Within moments of sitting down most of them fell into an exhausted slumber.

Aylis meanwhile found herself unable to sleep from the pain and her worry for all of them.  She hated this, she felt so useless, so helpless.

Silently the Midlander let her tears fall choking back her sobs so as not to wake the others.  She sat there for a long time before she felt arms gently wrap around her.  Looking down though tear filled eyes she saw they were spectral and wore an all to familiar armor.

Aylis lead back into his embrace as Ardbert stated softly, "You look like you needed a hug..."

She nodded silently wrapping her arms about his spectral ones and closed her eyes.   They sat in silence, no words needed to be spoken.

Aylis knew he understood, the despair, the helplessness, the seeming hopelessness of all of this.

"You'll beat this," he whispered in her ear, "You save them all, both worlds."

Aylis leaned her head into his resting on her shoulder correcting, "We, will beat this.  We will save them all Ardbert."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him give her his roguish grin, "Aye, we will.... together,"

She nodded at his words sleep at last claiming her despite her pain.  He sat there holding her praying he did not just make her an empty promise.

No matter what happens, I will see that she succeeds, that we win.  the shade told himself fiercly.

[dholwrites]

Home Is Where The Heart Is

Relationship: Thancred Waters x WoL OC

Rating: E

Note: [Contain ShB spoilers]

Seeing Minifilia again felt like tearing open the stitches on her heart. Fuujin had just barely begun to recover from her guilt, only for the seams to come apart when she saw the signature blonde hair and otherworldly blue eyes. The pain wraps itself around her, like a hand around her throat and a knife in her chest. There’s so much to say, so much to tell her; things they once laughed about over a warm meal, things they would cry about on each other’s shoulders. 

A wave of burning lava fills her stomach, it overflows until all she saw was red. Words threaten to spill out as everyone else around her easily accepts Ryne’s new name. The feeling didn’t go away even when Urianger’s expressed his surprise that Thancred had been listening. The heavy weight of her relationship with Thancred was starting to take its toll. Alisaie casts her a forced smile as Ryne beams at her new name and powers, even hurrying to make herself useful. 

With Ryne leading everyone towards the next Lightwarden, her anger simmers down into a manageable level, only for it to rise back up when Thancred matches her footsteps. With each step, they fall farther behind. A brush of his fingers at the back of her hand, stalling for a moment before he worms them in between hers, curling around them. A gentle squeeze was all it took. Fuujin whips her hand out of his grasp, shaking him off without a second thought, and hurries to catch up with everyone else.

“Fuu-“ 

“Don’t Fuu~ me!” Her own nickname feels like lead on her tongue. The hair on her sleek tail puffs up as she bares her teeth at him. She hisses through them, “if you think that after everything you pulled, that I’ll take you back as easily as her. You. Are. Mis-tak-en.” The Seeker jabs his chest with her finger at every syllable, her blue eyes turn icy despite the fire behind them. 

Thancred staggers back at the force, brown eyes wide, his mouth dropped open. A loud sigh escapes his nose as he reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “Fuu, I figured that you out of everyone would understand that Ryne-”

“That Ryne is so helpless, that you need to cater to her every whim,” Fuujin cuts in, her voice lightly wavering as she continues to move towards the well. “So much so that you need to neglect every other problem you have. You didn’t even look at me when we finally saw each other.”

“Of course, I did! I missed you every-”

“Then… why haven’t you said anything to me?” They stop moving altogether, standing just an arm's length apart. A part of her wishes to run back into his arms, her heart aches to soothe and erase the lost look on his face. She wants him back. Yet the pain of their relationship digs its claws into her very heart, caging what love she has. “He told me that you were here for five years. Five long years. While you were stuck in a world that we know nothing about, I visited you every night after you passed out. No one knew what was happening. You were just… gone.”

She remembered it all too well. While his body still had the breath of life, everyone told her that he’s there. There, yet his soul wasn’t. Taken right in front of her very eyes and she could do not a thing about it. Fuujin thought that it would be the end of it. She was wrong. One by one, her family fell around her. First Y’shtola and Urianger; the two had always been a gentle guiding hand. Suddenly gone. Then Alphinaud, sweet Alphinaud came back in the arms of a former enemy. The look that crossed Alisaie’s face shattered the heart that she was still trying to piece together. 

The loss drove her and Alisaie closer together, closer than they had ever been. They started sleeping in the same room, in the same bed. The fear of losing each other too great to even let go of the other’s hands. They swore to never leave. The rest of the Scions did what they could to help. They didn’t feel the same aches, but they could take care of everything else. With Tataru’s help, they kept the Rising Stones alive, took care of primals, and tended to everyone else as the girls huddled away. 

Then it happened. The pain in her mind that was enough to distort the vision of Alisaie reaching out to her. Yet when Fuujin reached out to take her hand, it wasn’t enough. 

It wasn’t enough.

Fuujin shakes her head of the thoughts, hand reaching up to flick off imaginary tears. “You know what that was? The last care I have. Whatever we had was obviously not important enough that you don’t have something to say after five years.”

“Well, you should know that is clearly not true. I- WE have more urgent things to do than to worry about something as stu-” His words stalled as soon as he realized what he was about to say.

“Oh. No. Why don’t you finish that sentence? Just say it. Stupid. It’s so stupid, right? This little thing called ‘Our Relationship’ is apparently so stupid that you’re more than happy to forget about it.” Thancred’s lips have set into a frown, his brow furrowing as he opens his mouth to say something, only for nothing to come out. The words taste as foul as they sound to her ears, but she wants to hurt him as he has hurt her. “All those hours spent worrying over you, searching for an answer. And when you were finally within reach… Nothing.”

He lets out a sigh, turning his face away from her, expression unreadable. Her eyes were drawn to the hand that had reached out for her. The same hand that once took her own and kissed the back of it when they first met.

“I… love you.” Her voice cracks under the admission, all her anger bringing tears to her eyes. Her hands reach up to furiously cover them as she spoke on. A flush begins to cover her face as she bites back a sob. “I still love you. I still do. But you’re making it hard to keep going.”

Using her black hair like a curtain, she shields herself away from him, from the world. He simply stood there as she cried into her hands. Unsure of what to do he slowly wraps his arms around her, pressing her against his chest to allow her to sobs to subside. Pressed against the leather that smells of blood, sweat, and dust, Fuujin forces back her tears and straightens herself. The miqo’te tears herself from his arms, taking shaky breaths to calm the feelings that still threaten to come pouring out again. Thancred spoke up first.

“Let’s talk about this later.” She had never wished for the night to come so quickly than in that moment. It would be easier to hide the evidence of her tears in the dark.

__

Back in the Crystarium, there’s a clear tension in the air. Y’shtola has shooed her off like a mother would a child. Fuujin couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of the other miqo’te taking her over her knee. She looks away only to lock eyes with the man that had brought her to tears, the smile on her lips faltering as she walks past him to her room. Perhaps it was a trick of her mind. He… Thancred looked like he wanted to say something. There’s a lonely, pained glint in his face as his lips press into a straight line. 

Her heart fluttered in her chest, perhaps a spark of hope that they will be able to rekindle this relationship. Yet her mind reasons that there shouldn’t be any, not when she still feels the echoes of disappoint mixing with anger in her chest. The miqo’te took the long path back to her room, watching the excitement as news of the night spread like wildfire. Civilians young and old were quick to flock around and set up stalls to celebrate the Warrior of Darkness. 

By the time she made it back to her room, her body was aching and exhausted. So much so that she struggled to fully enjoy the food and drinks set out for her. Ardbert had even granted her wish for privacy. At least, until someone came knocking on her door. 

“Fuujin, can you let me in, please?” She hesitated for a moment. Should she? Is she truly ready to take him back? The miqo’te wished she could just say no, but instead she clicks the door’s lock. He opens the door just enough for him to squeeze in and slam it shut behind him.

Thancred pressed himself completely against her, his arms wrapped tightly around her small waist as his face nuzzled her long, black hair, careful that the headpiece won’t get caught on his shirt. She could feel his breath on her ears; deep, slow, purposeful. With every exhale, the tension from his shoulders would slip off. All until he was practically clinging onto her like a child seeking comfort. He finally whispers out a reply, muffled by her hair but she can hear it all the same.

“I’m sorry.” He continues to mumble those two words until she finally reaches up to wrap her arms around his waist. Her touch seems to snap him out of his desperation to apologize to her. Thancred pulls away just enough to look into her eyes. “You don’t deserve to be treated like that, much less by me. But- but I ask that you have a little patience with me, so I can explain everything.”

“I… forgive you, okay?” The anger that she had for him was washed away with his apology. The Seeker pressing her cheek against his chest, enjoying the feeling of his warmth against hers and his breath tickling her sensitive ears. “I ask that you make it up to me from here on out. No more secrets, no more avoiding me.”

She could feel him nod into her hair, breathing out a sigh relief and muttered words. Fuujin pulls away to look up at him, to see the expression fixed on his face. Thancred rests his forehead against hers, their breath heating up space between them. His expression is nothing short of relief, eyes darting back and forth between her blue eyes and plump lips, as if asking for permission. He tilts his head just slightly and she could feel the ghost of his lips brushing against her. So close she could taste his breath, so close she wants nothing more than to pull him down into a smothering kiss.

“Is there a way that I can make it up?” An idea began to form in her head, something to get all the pent up frustration out of them. Something that she has been wishing for before all this mess started. 

“There is… one way you can make it up to me right now. I want you to take my first time.” Thancred nods again, instantly agreeing to the idea. Only for the words to finally register in his mind. The sound that came out of him was a strange mix of a gasp and delightful glee. She taps his lips with a finger, which he quickly presses a kiss against. The Seeker can’t help but soften up at his affection. “But you’re not allowed to have your lips anywhere close to being down there. I want to see your face.” 

Thancred put his dexterous fingers to work helping her out of her outfit, eager to take this chance to rekindle their love. First the headpiece, making sure to press a delicate kiss to her forehead as he untangles the feathers from her hair. Then her gloves, his lips dance across her tan skin as he slips off the rings with it. Only once it’s time to remove her chest wrappings, Thancred slows his pace, tracing the line between the fabric and her skin, admiring the way the silver decoration draws his attention to the area surrounding it. His eyes growing darker and tongue darting out to lick his lips. His eyes raise up to lock eyes with her and flash her a cheeky smile.

“Alright, I’ll admit. I have Twelves’ damn clue of how that thing works,” he raises up his hands, looking away as a sprinkle of red gather on his cheeks from being caught. Yet a cheeky smile crosses his face and turns back to her, Thancred strokes the side of his chest, flexing the muscles that he had gained for the past five years. He cast her a sultry gaze. “Would my lady mind taking care of it while I remove mine? Or would you prefer that I try to wrestle your dress off of you?”

A sound akin to a snort makes its way out of her at his question. The Seeker could only roll her eyes and finish his work for him. She reaches up and with a snap, Fuujin easily pulled it down until the entire dress pooled around her ankles. Kicking the pile of clothes aside, her hands working to add her small clothes to the pile and kicking off her shoes. Fuujin takes a hesitant step towards him, watching as his eyes blow wide at the sight of her bare body. A wave of nerves fills her at the lack of remarks. 

“You’re beautiful.” Breathless, wonder-filled words pour out of his lips. 

His long white coat was thrown off and dropped with little care on the ground. Following with it were his gloves, belt, and thick armor until he was left with his form-fitting small clothes. She could make out his cock through the tent forming. It was the first time she gets to see him so exposed. Her tongue darting out to lick her lips as she eyes it with interest. He toes off his boots, having them slip right off and land on the floor with a ‘thud’ as he climbs onto the bed on his knees, his hand guiding her to lie down on the bed.

While his body moves boldly and expertly, his hand skims tentatively to cup her cheek then down along the curve of her breast, mumbling praise as he kisses her lips. His thumb circles around her nipple, just grazing it ever so slightly to pull a desperate gasp out of her. A hungry look gleaming in his eyes as their gazes lock, with him leaning down to kiss between the valley of her chest.

“I dreamt of this moment for the past five years. I spent the better part of my time wanting nothing more than to be able to see you again, to touch you, to feel you again.” He whispers almost dreamily, before his voice deepens, “more than once did I imagine what I would do when I could finally return to you. The next thing I knew, five years had passed.”

She barely has time to react to his statement before his mouth latches onto her nipple. He alternates between rolling his tongue over the sensitive nib, flicking it, and sucking on it to elicit moans from his lover. Making sure to keep each breast occupied with his hand and his mouth.

Before he could do anything else, Fuujin hesitantly grabs one of his wrists and pulls it down between her legs, relishing in the feeling of his bare fingers stroking the inside of her thigh. She shoots him a desperate look that brought a lopsided grin to his face. Thancred nudges her to spread her legs further apart, situating himself between them comfortably. The anticipation builds up in her veins at every inch he draws closer to her sex. His warm touches only make her ache for him where she needs him most. When he finally reaches it, an undeniable moan of his name escapes her lips. The sound of it only encourages him to tease her even more.

Fuujin couldn’t stop grinding against his hand, feeling her juices coat his fingers as he rubbed his thumb in circles against her clit. Thancred presses his lips against hers when he finally slips inside, kissing away every muffled gasp and moan. Her own fingers grasp the bedsheets even harder, the muscles underneath beginning to strain from the strength. Her entire body growing warmer with each passing moment, the sweet waves of pleasure travel from the tip of her ears to the end of her toes.

She could feel him crook his fingers inside her and rub against a sensitive spot, the strength of her legs draining and what felt like a fire was set at the pit of her stomach. Not even his kisses could stop the sharp gasps and long drawn out moans from her lips, her tail thumping lightly against his thigh as his free hand roams and gropes her chest again.

Her legs begin to quiver as she draws closer to her orgasm, the miqo’te finally letting go of the sheets to grab the silver strands of his hair to pull him back to claim his mouth again. A low groan from him drowns out the sounds she can’t help but make. White completely fills her vision as she unravels in his hand, letting out a high pitched keen as her back arches against him from the force.

Fuujin couldn’t help but feel empty as he pulls his fingers out of her. She can see the juice of her climax covering his hand. He made a show of dragging his tongue over his finger, sucking at them, even letting out a low moan at the taste. “You taste delicious, better than anything I’ve ever imagined.”

She was panting heavily, recovering from his actions. Her eyes turning dark and tongue darting out to lick her lips. But there’s still a fire raging inside her despite what she just experienced. She needs it. The one thing that would finally relieve her of this fire. She needs him to stop playing around and finally fuck her. “Thancred,” Fuujin moans reaching out to trail her hand down his chest, feeling all the muscle he had built for training as a Gunbreaker for the 5 years he was here. Toned, defined, and mouth-watering to see, she couldn’t help but drool at the thought that this was all hers . Her hand makes its way down until she comes into contact with his clothed erection, even brushing her thumb over a damp spot near the top to elicit an unrestrained growl from him.

“I hope that you know what’s going to happen if you keep touching that.” Thancred lightly threatens. All the noise from earlier has stretched his patience thin, practically ripping off his strained smallclothes and tossing them aside. With a nod of her head, he adjusts himself back between her legs, taking his time to stroke himself until he was fully erect. Only when she made a needy plea did he guide himself into her soaking heat. Fuujin accepts him with little to no resistance thanks to his fingers. But they do not compare at all to what she feels now. There is an undeniable stretch as she feels every inch of him as he carefully pries her open in the most delicious of ways. He was so thick, thicker than her fingers, his own fingers. Thick enough that she left like she wall full to the brim. 

They both groan together when he finally settles in her, her legs wrapping loosely around his waist. Thancred stalls for a few moments to allow her to adjust, his hands delicately guiding her legs up to rest them on his shoulders, even giving one ankle a kiss. His hands supporting her at her hips. Fuujin quickly loses her patience as the quiet moment drags on. Despite the way he lavishes her face and legs with attention from his touch, her tail twitching and curling around his leg as if she depended on him to move . Getting the hint, he began a steady rhythm. Slowly and gradually building up until he found the perfect pace to pull light moans, desperate gasps, and sweet sighs from her. With each roll of his hips, the miqo’te gets to watch as his muscles flex, each motion sending fresh waves of pleasure and excitement coursing through her veins. Yet it wasn’t enough. She rocks her own hips to meet his and stars fill her eyes as he brushes against the sweet spot from earlier.

Thancred had to know what he was doing to her. The way his thrusts came harder and quicker, his hands helping her to meet him in perfect unison. She closes her eyes, shutting out her vision and controlling her shaky breathing, yet she can’t help but let out every moan and gasp while underneath him. The flame has turned into an intense heat pooled in her abdomen, hot and frantic, threatening to consume her. 

Then he suddenly stops, the fire taming down but remaining resilient. Before a snarky complaint could come out of her mouth, he starts his hips again, adding fuel to the fire that grows inside her. And then… he stops again. 

“Stop teasing!” She smacks his bare chest as he stalls himself one more time. A light chuckle falls from his lips draws her eyes open to look at his own. A soft smile and gaze full of adoration. Open adoration for her . His thrusting starts again, this time without stopping. The flame finally bursting, her orgasm slamming into her and pulling out sounds that she didn’t realize that she could make. Her eyes grow hazy as he continues to fuck her through the waves of her orgasm. 

The very moment she starts to come down from her high, Thancred reaches down between her folds to stroke her sensitive bud. She didn’t think it would be possible, but he brought her back to the very edge before she could finish the last one. 

“Can you cum? Just one more time, Fuu, just for me.” He whispers above her, barely audible over the sound of skin slapping skin. Before she even realizes, the miqo’te feels the familiar coil between her legs. Throat becoming slightly sore as she screams out his name between ragged breaths. An orgasm so intense that she came close to blacking out. Her back arches off the bed, walls convulsing around him as he continues the punishing pace.  Her eyes finally clear up to watch as Thancred’ face contorts to one not short of pleasure as he reaches his own climax. He drops his head to her shoulders as she feels his hot cum fill her. 

Panting heavily, he pulls out of her and collapses into the bed on his back. Despite feeling the exhaustion sink need into his bones, his hand reach cradles her head. Pulling her to rest her head against his chest as the both of them come down from their high. Thancred took deep, shuddering breaths, muscles flexing with the aftershocks of his orgasm. The thumping of his heart fills the ear pressed against his chest. He presses a gentle kiss above her eye, an arm wrapped around her waist.

The lull of sleep starts to take hold of her. Wrapped up between the warmth of his arms and the gentle rhythm of his heart, Fuujin closes her eyes, slowly slipping into a dreamless sleep, safe and satisfied. Just moments before she loses consciousness, Thancred shifts underneath her. She could feel his hand running through her hair and tracing nonsense patterns on her back. Her eyes flutter close as he wraps a light blanket over them, and whispers softly in her ear.

“I love you, Fuu. And I will love you until the end of time.”