#hehe zayacred to finish off this year

[fistsoflightning]

wherever the wind blows

ffxivwrite2022 30: sojourn n. a temporary stay.

zaya & thancred. sometime nebulously post-6.0. 1237 wc.

To Zaya’s knowledge, the Quicksand had never seen a slow day or night since Momodi stepped up behind the bar, but tonight in particular seemed especially busy. If the two of them hadn’t known the proprietor personally, there wouldn’t have been seats open at the bar, thanks to all the new adventuring hopefuls coming to Ul’dah in part thanks to the Rising; Momodi had called over one of her waitresses when she saw them walk through the doors, Thancred on their heels, and had her save one of the tables being cleared while she beckoned them over for a bit of conversation. She didn’t even bat an eye at the bluebird taking a seat of her own in the ceiling fountain’s greenery, diving in just before the doors closed behind them.

Of course it was to bend their ears—or horns, which made little sense physically speaking but Zaya wasn’t versed enough in Eorzean phrases to bother with finding one that made more sense. A few tales about saving the star (and one attempt at wrangling any ‘romantic developments’ from them) was well worth the table near the central fountain, at least in their opinion. Thancred seemed less appreciative of the near-interrogation, but not enough to say it to Momodi’s face, or to them as she shooed them away to their table with a small platter and a leveplate.

“Looks fairly interesting,” Thancred said, reading the details as Zaya took the plate of various breads, meats, cheeses, and spreads out of his other hand and set it on the table. “Any adventurer’s bread and butter—investigating ‘strange phenomena in a recently unearthed ruins out in Western Thanalan’, with payment to follow the clearing of said phenomena along with some of the treasure found within.”

Zaya smiled wistfully as they popped a cracker into their mouth, if a bit confused. It did sound like something they would have done as a job, before Minfilia managed to rope them into the Scions proper; delving into ruins to clear the way for some manner of archaeologist, researcher, or gil-grubbing merchant willing to pay a fortune to have first choice of some age-old relics, diving headfirst into danger only because it would mean exploring somewhere brilliantly new without regard for safety. 

What it didn’t explain was why Momodi had handed it to the two of them personally, rather than let the levemete handle seeking the talent required to fulfill the request. 

“Voidsent?” they asked. 

It was a reasonable guess. Momodi never liked giving any new adventurers the chance to take a job involving voidsent, despite Thanalan being home to plenty; it had something to do with a voidsent hierarchy and the upper rung demons showing up more frequently after the Calamity disrupted all of Eorzea’s aetherial currents. Zaya had never bothered to learn more about it, since few of the voidsent could match up to the wildlife of the Steppe anyways—now, though, they were realizing maybe they should have sat down for a lesson or two while they were in Sharlayan.

Thancred shrugged, sitting down across from them and setting the leveplate on the table. “Could be,” he said, taking a slice of bread and dipping it in a bowl of oil. “The description of their phenomena is horribly vague, given the format of the standard leveplate. I do hope whatever troublemaker’s causing our friend Painted Dawn isn’t too much of a bother, voidsent or not—between the two of us, I wouldn’t exactly say we’re in top form.”

That was exaggerating it, really, especially since he came back from Ultima Thule with little injury, and if Thancred wanted to keep them bedridden a little longer there were plenty of better excuses for him to use. Zaya nudged his shin under the table with the toe of their boot, sinking down in their chair to reach.

“I know, I know, Krile said you were as well as you were going to get before we left,” he conceded, taking a small bite of his bread before continuing, “and your legs seem to be working fine, but I think I’m owed a fair bit of time fretting over your wellbeing. Seeing you laid out more than once hasn’t made the sight any easier on me.”

Zaya relented after that, because it seemed cruel to playfully harass him for being worried like any normal person might be; any other adventurer would have keeled over if they had been through half the things Zaya put themselves through in the name of saving something that wasn’t their own life. Even traveling across the rift to another shard nearly lost to calamity would have driven a veteran at the trade to retire, probably. They reached across to brush their fingers against the bare knuckles of his idle hand in apology, his gloves draped over the edge of the table; the Quicksand was too loud and too crowded for them to want to try to say it verbally, to make sure he knew they meant it, but Thancred smiled regardless and twined his fingers in theirs.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not used to it, bluebird.” He squeezed their hand lightly before letting go, eyes shifting to some of the crowd around them; his eyes, though, didn’t falter or darken when his attention was drawn back to them, still brightly shifting between hazel and gold in the Quicksand’s evening lights. “Instead of going in recklessly as you’d like, I was thinking we spend tonight comfortably in bed, and then tomorrow morning we double back to the Waking Sands and request Urianger’s expertise before we go ruin diving, to ensure we both come out unscathed,” he said, his smile turning a bit sheepish between bites of his bread. “Afraid it’s not quite as romantic as going with just the two of us, but…”

Zaya snorted, kicking the closest leg of his chair lightly as they chewed on another cracker. “You said adventuring is bad as a date,” they said, letting their hands be a bit loose with the signs.

“It is, if the other person spends the entire time terrified,” Thancred countered, no heat behind his words. “Which is not something that applies to you, as I’ve clearly learned. You’d hate me if I took you to plays and dinners or some such establishment where you stay seated the entire time.”

Hate was ill-fitting, Zaya thought, nose scrunching up as they considered it. It would take something truly terrible for them to hate him, if his demeanor when they first arrived in Norvrandt hadn’t done the trick—being upset, though, sounded more along the lines of how’d they react to one of those stuffy Ul’dahn theatres. “Thank you for not doing that,” Zaya signed languidly. “I love you.”

Thancred laughed quietly, drowned out by the noise around them. “I would hope I know you well enough not to drag you places you’d hate, because I love you too,” he replied, his voice a lovely low sound they could hear thanks to him leaning slightly over the table. “Now, not to ruin the mood, but do you mind helping me finish this platter so we can retire to the Hourglass? I’m sure our night would be much nicer without any stray eyes on us.”

They smiled as angelically as they could, and then plucked Thancred’s half-eaten slice of bread out of his hand, dipping it in the softened butter before shoving it indelicately into their mouth.