#but now it's just more instances of the exarch telling him to take care of himself

[warlordfelwinter]

how's this game get me emotional about sandwiches

[deathflares]

» ffxivwrite day #23 — shuffle

wolexarch, 2k words, T.

[ao3 mirror]

“Indulge me,” she insists, seemingly amused by his hesitation. “It’s just harmless fun, my lord—something I’m sure both you and I could use more of.”

He swallows. There’s a deep, if irrational fear within him that she’ll somehow be able to pull a card that reads “G’raha Tia” in big, bold letters.

This time he finds Shiori by one of the tables in the Catenaries, and it’s barely half a bell past five. She doesn’t seem to notice him approaching, occupied with a deck of cards she shuffles with slow but practiced deftness.

“Is this a late night or an early morning, my friend?”

She blinks and looks up at him, hands stopping their movement. Her lips press together in a closed-mouth smile.

“I believe I should be the one to ask that question, my lord,” she answers, bemused. “Lyna has mentioned to me in passing some concerns about your sleep schedule—or rather, your apparent lack of one.”

She gestures towards the chair across from hers, a silent invitation. “In my defense,” he says, sitting, “sleep hasn’t been a need of mine for a long time, now.”

“Not being necessary doesn’t mean it wouldn’t do you well,” she says. “But I’m certain you’ve heard enough nagging from the Captain as is. I doubt mine will convince you to get any more sleep.”

He shrugs, smiling wryly, then gestures to the deck in her hands. “And what might those be?”

He’s aware she’s proficient in Sharlayan astromancy, but whatever deck she’s holding doesn’t seem familiar to him—far too many cards, for instance.

“Tarot cards,” she answers. “My grandmother taught me to read them when I was a girl, and it’s been a pastime of mine ever since. Have you ever had your fortune read, Exarch?”

That’s a new one, he supposes. The sheer extent of her... abilities, be it in combat or otherwise, never ceases to amaze him. “I’m afraid not,” he answers.

Shiori hums. “Care to try, then? I for one am quite interested in learning what may lie in the future of a man such as yourself.”

Her tone is pleasant, but the glint in her eyes feels vulturous. He resists the urge to squirm under her gaze. “I’m not sure I should—”

“Indulge me,” she insists, seemingly amused by his hesitation. “It’s just harmless fun, my lord—something I’m sure both you and I could use more of.”

He swallows. There’s a deep, if irrational fear within him that she’ll somehow be able to pull a card that reads “G’raha Tia” in big, bold letters. Yet he can’t bring himself to refuse her. Harmless fun, she says—he certainly hopes it’ll hold true.

“... Very well,” he concedes.

Shiori beams. “Thank you,” she says, shuffling the cards one more time. She splits the deck in three parts, rearranges them back together, then spreads them out in front of him in a tidy arc. “Pick six. Try not to worry over it too much—just follow your intuition.”

G’raha proceeds to worry too much over it. Somehow this feels like a matter of life and death. Trying not to second-guess himself, he touches the back of six cards with a finger and slides them down away from the arc and towards the center of the table.

Shiori gathers the remaining cards in a single pile and slides them to the side, then flips each of the cards he’d chosen, placing them around the table in a circular formation. She hums again, resting her head on her hand and looking down at the cards with a smile, as if they’re telling her a particularly amusing story.

“These cards,” she says, gesturing to the three cards that have names written on them, “are the major arcana. They represent the most deeply rooted issues within our lives. And these cards,” she points towards the other three, which only have numbers on them, “are the minor arcana. They provide context to the major arcana, and relate to our everyday experiences.”

G’raha looks down to examine the cards. He has no idea what they mean, and he hasn’t even seen many tarot cards to be able to judge, but he’d be willing to bet that Shiori owns the most beautiful deck they offer. The artwork on the cards is stunning, enough that he wishes he could get them framed—each picture seemingly hand drawn in black and white, aside from a unique splash of color somewhere on the card.

“Each position in the spread has a specific meaning, which is why the order you pulled the cards is important,” Shiori explains. “This one,” she points at the card at the very top of the spread, “is your question. What you’re really concerned about, at the moment.”

The card in question is void of any color, depicting only seven circles with stars inside of them, sorted in a diagonal line. Nothing about it seems to give away its meaning.

“For you, it’s the seven of pentacles. It relates to contemplation and uncertainty, especially in regard to one’s work���such as wondering if you’re going to succeed. Perhaps you’re looking back at your hard work and wondering if your efforts might fail, or go unrewarded.” She taps her finger against the card, staring G’raha down with a smile that feels threateningly knowingly. “Sounds familiar to you?”

That does sound like my biggest concern, my friend, thank you. “Perhaps a bit,” he says, straining his lips in what he hopes comes across as a calm smile. If Shiori smells his fear, which he somehow wouldn’t put past her to be able to, she doesn’t mention it. Instead, she taps another card.

“Your second card is what you want most right now. For you, it’s the Lovers.”

The name is written on the card, below a pair of birds mid-flight. They’re surrounded by lines of color, as if rays of light are pouring down on them. G’raha suddenly feels very exposed.

“If you cards are insinuating I’m looking for a lover, my friend, I’m afraid they’ve erred this time,” he says mildly, praying Althyk won’t let her tell it’s a blatant lie.

Shiori laughs. “It doesn’t have to be a relationship, necessarily. The Lovers can also mean union and harmony, so perhaps you’re craving a sense of balance in your life, or merely... companionship.”

The accuracy of this is starting to make him feel more than a little uncomfortable. Shiori continues.

“Or, it can be exactly what you thought. The most obvious meaning behind the Lovers card is, indeed, love. Though it could also relate to, say, sexual desire,” she suggests, cocking her head innocently as if she has not just implied he’s overwhelmed with lust. G’raha’s breath catches in his throat, sending him into a quite graceless cough. Shiori chuckles again, but spares him further torment by moving on to the next card.

“Your third card represents your fears. For this one, you drew the Tower.”

Despite its name, the card she points to doesn’t depict an actual tower. Instead, there’s a tree being struck by lightning, shattering its trunk and setting its leaves on fire. Wonderful.

“The Tower relates to sudden change, chaos and, well,” she pauses, holding what would be eye contact were it not for his cowl. “Revelations. See the lightning? It cuts through the illusions and lies you have been telling yourself and others, making the truth come to light. As a result, all that you had built upon these lies crumbles down around you.”

You’re a liar, and your biggest fear is that your deception will be laid bare, she might as well have told him. G’raha instinctually averts her eyes, even though she couldn’t see his if she tried. “I see,” is all he says.

Shiori seems to take his lack of elaboration as a sign to continue. “Your fourth and fifth are, respectively, what you have working in your favor and against you. You drew the two of cups and the seven of swords.”

Shiori turns her attention towards the fourth card. It depicts, like its name, a pair of cups. Between them stands two roses, crossing each other in an X shape, with the red of their petals acting as the only colour in the card.

“This is another card that relates to love and connections,” she explains, seeming amused. “Based on its position, I’d say there’s an important relationship in your life, and the bond you share with this person will be key in facing the obstacles that may stand in your way.”

The way Shiori watches him feels different from mere moments ago, like there’s more she wants to say but is holding herself back from doing so. The weight of her gaze makes his pulse quicken.

“It could be just a friendship, though this card usually relates to romance. Your connection with this person is—or will be—very deep, and you’ll rely on each other a lot.”

She flashes him another smile, but something about it feels wistful. She seems—sad. Before he can question why, she continues.

“Your fifth—what’s working against you—is the seven of swords,” she says, turning her attention towards said card. Akin to its name, there are six swords displayed in a vertical row. Underneath them lies a curled-up fox, hiding the seventh sword beneath its tail.

“Somehow I feel I could guess the meaning of this one,” he says, wryly. Shiori snickers.

“It does feel a bit on the nose,” she concedes. “As you may have guessed, the seven of swords relates to deception and trickery. Whether you're the keeper of the secrets or the kept-from is for you to tell—but, either way, this deception is not working in your favor. It is likely interfering with your goals, or even the relationship that the two of cups represents.”

G’raha’s throat feels dry. He resigns himself to his suffering. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” he says flatly, Shiori’s eyes glued to him making it exceedingly difficult to piece his words together. She continues.

“The last card in the spread is the outcome of your current situation. And you actually drew the first card in the major arcana for it, which is interesting. It’s a bit of an odd card to have as a conclusion.”

He turns his attention towards the sixth card, at the lowest position in the spread. It depicts a bird perched on a branch. Though the animal is drawn in black and white, the background is made of horizontal lines in yellow and orange, reminding him of the sky at dawn. “The Fool”, reads the letters at the bottom of the card. Not satisfied with calling him a lecherous liar who desperately craves companionship, the cards have now resorted to calling him an imbecile. Wonderful.

“I feel like your cards have been making quite the concentrated effort to insult me, my friend.”

Shiori giggles. He’s thankful she finds his suffering amusing, at least. “That does seem so, Exarch,” she says, leaning her head against her hand, elbow perched on the table. “But I must remind you that they were pulled by your hand. By themselves, they’re quite harmless. In the order you placed them, however…”

The implication doesn’t amuse him. He clears his throat. “Will you tell me what the last one means?” he asks, eager to change the subject.

Shiori blinks, then turns her attention back to the cards. “Despite its name, the Fool doesn’t represent literal foolishness,” she explains, finger tracing the edges of the card absentmindedly. “It relates to new beginnings, new adventures and opportunities. Freedom, following one’s heart, the excitement of embracing the unknown—those are all things represented by the Fool. It’s the start of a new journey, which is why it’s the very first card in the major arcana.”

If the previous cards felt like insults in their accuracy, this one feels like mockery.

“I guess this means that in the end, you’ll find yourself able to begin anew, Exarch,” she says, offering him a small, tired smile. “A nice thought, I suppose. Is there aught you long to do, once your work is done?”

G’raha Tia would have enough answers to this question to entertain her through the whole day. The Exarch, however—

“Rest,” he answers. A half-truth, as he’s so used to delivering. “Some rest would be nice.”

Shiori hums in quiet agreement. The cards lay between them, an ocean of distance.

“That would be nice,” she says. “That would be nice indeed.”

[eightlittletalons]

Prompt #2: Sway

What’s up, I just wrote this whole thing in the last hour in a fit of inspiration. I mean I did think of bits last night but didn’t bother making notes cause I was like “eh, I’ll remember tomorrow”. Dear reader, I did not in fact remember all of them. Anyway, I’m not sure how good this will be as I usually spend a LOT more time writing on my fics, but as I understand, the point of  FFxivWrite2020 is to just write and not worry about perfectionism. Of which I do - a lot - when writing.

Definition of sway 1: the action or an instance of swaying or of being swayed : an oscillating, fluctuating, or sweeping motion 2: to hold sway : act as ruler or governor 3: to fluctuate or veer between one point, position, or opinion and another

The Crystal Exarch has remained resolute in his chosen path from the beginning. Ever since he first punched a hole for the tower to transport the two of them from the Source to the First, he has ever worked towards one goal with single-minded determination. To save the Warrior of Light, the man who now stands before himself and an understandably quite confused Lyna as he explains that yes - this is indeed another one of his guests. He’s so giddy in finally - finally - succeeding in pulling E’andhris Tia, the vaunted eikonslayer and hero of Eorzea, across the Rift that he’s almost taken aback by the pure hostility on the tall miqo’te’s face when the Exarch requests that he follow him into the Crystarium where he will answer his undoubtedly many questions.

Yet he follows. And as the anger gives way to a begrudging curiosity as they travel - alone, gods - towards the Crystarium, the Exarch hears himself begin to babble, eager to give E’andhris an explanation to assuage the keen guilt he feels at tearing him away from his world, his friends, and everything he must continue to do to his once dear friend. He finds that in the presence of the man who has left such an impact on his life, it is hard not to lay everything bare from the very beginning. 

E’andhris himself has very little to say, besides inquiring about his friends - the other Scions, and soon they’ve made their way into the city proper. The Exarch feels a burst of pride in his chest as he watches his inspiration’s annoyance fall away into an awed expression at the settlement he has spent the last century helping to build. This is your influence, he wants to tell him, all of this is thanks to you. He doesn’t. Instead, he gives the Warrior of Light some admittedly confusing directions, relieved when E’andhris jokes when the Exarch inquires if they weren’t too complicated. 

“Crystal clear,” the white mage replies, with an easy smile that only slightly borders on sardonic. The Exarch leaves him to his exploration then, before that smile undoes him and his careful plans.

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He is aware of how obvious he is, in his desire to be near E’andhris. Lyna has expressed her confusion and concern to him, over the inexplicable sway this stranger has over him. Even if he could, he knows not how he’d explain to her everything that has happened, that would have, and will happen. He knows that she is slow to trust, though even she is won over when E’andhris lays low the first of the Lightwardens and the heavens are parted to let the first starry-filled sky spread across Lakeland for the first time in one hundred long years. 

As his knees impact the dirt, and he gazes up at his dearest friend and hero, he decides it was all worth it. Every last ilm of struggle and sacrifice. He knows that he will be struck down at the end of this road, but this moment makes it worthwhile.

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Less welcome is when Emet-Selch taunts him over his attachment to the hero. He realizes that the Ascian wields his jabs as a dagger, seeking to find the chinks in his armor, to understand if only for the sake of undoing him and forcing ahead all they seek to prevent. And he would be correct in his assumption that E’andhris is the largest of his weak points, though the Exarch refuses to react to his jeering, save to sway his attention to Allag and what he may and may not be capable of as the keeper of the Crystal Tower.

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The Crystal Exarch returns to his beloved Crystarium in the company of the Warrior of Darkness and his companions, bone tired, but so, so very happy. His plans in tatters, yet he finds himself not caring for now. Not when E’andhris’ gaze may finally meet his own, unmasked, all lies laid bare and yet still he is accepted. They are both here and safe, beyond all expectations, though sore and weary from their final struggles against Emet-Selch and then that godsforsaken swim to the surface. 

He finds himself craving sinking into his bed and sleeping for another decade or so, though such thoughts are banished as the Crystarium erupts into celebrations and his inspiration takes his hands into his own. “Dance with me, G’raha,” he breathes, and the Exarch finds himself easily swayed, as he always is by his hero.