#kiwisffxivwrite2021

[whitherliliesbloom]

style over shadow

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #02 - aberrant ]

[ drk npcs ]  ★ [ 1,037 words ]  ★ [ post-shb, no spoilers ]

aberrant- deviating from the usual or normal

sidurgu convinces himself that the black chunks of metal suited the warrior of light far more than pastel pink frills and flowers. rielle is more than eager to dispute that.

There isn’t much in the world that would surprise Sidurgu at this point - not the darkness that was the cruelty mortal kind hid behind the pretense of a righteous, noble way nor the many mysteries that has yet to be uncovered about the voice, about the shadow that he and an old friend had so desperately pursued. He’s seen much through his life, walked through the pits of hell and back. Nothing would ever phase him. 

And yet, upon setting foot on the docks of Lavender Beds and catching a mere glimpse of an oddly familiar, yet strange and foreign figure all the same, he’s found himself completely stumped for words. 

It wasn’t often that he and Rielle got to see the Savior of Ishgard, not since she’d last slain the fake that was Myste and reunited him, even momentarily, with the image of his long fallen friend Fray. The revelation that was the true nature behind those walking shades had certainly been an eye-opening one, and Sidurgu believed at that moment he’s seen all there was to uncover of the Warrior of Light, that he and Rielle are finally privvy to all of her - even her deepest darkest demons that she’d fought tooth and nail to no avail to hide.

He’s known her for a good few years - the lady heroine that he now saw to be his equal... and in some ways, even his superior.

But not once in their many meetings together as he seen her dressed like that. 

Perhaps he should’ve guessed that there wasn’t very many people in the world who would willingly waltz around in a full suit of armor casually. Hell, he’d even seen the Warrior of Light in lighter garments once or twice before - albeit in a long white robe that was characteristic of battle healers. 

Sidurgu knew Illya well enough to know she dabbled in more than just the dark arts... figured that she would probably have more casual, loose fitting clothing for when she’d pick them up at the Amethyst Shallows in order to show them to her home. This was, after all, meant to be a casual visit for them to catch up, after all.

But he apparently hadn’t known her well enough to anticipate the blindingly bright pink dress, the showy peach blossom corsage in her hair, the equally girlish peach blossom earrings or the subtle shades of light purple and pink over her painted nails. 

In his 5 years of knowing the slayer of eikons, the great conquerer of the dark side and the only woman who he’s ever known to earn the favor of fray... he’d never expected Illya to be so....feminine. 

The young lass went by many titles... great hero of eorzea, savior of the star and beyond... lady warrior. He’d called her by that name a good few times, a title of endearment for one he saw to be deserving of praise through her many altruistic deeds.

It’d simply be the first time Sidurgu would see her as a lady first, and a knight second.

He convinces himself that he prefers the plates of armor, by sole virtue of not knowing what to say even as he hears Rielle rattle on praises for her older sister figure’s sense of style. It does fit her in an odd way- as much as he hasn’t quite gotten used to the sight yet. The pastel colors bring out the vibrancy of her star spangled violet eyes more somehow. But it is still strange - and therefore not comparable to chainmail and gauntlets. 

The Au Ra doesn’t hate the pink, but he does miss the black somewhat. 

“Come on Sid! Aren’t you going to say something?” The young girl beside him calls out, and he feels a lump collecting in his throat. 

“Uh-” what is there to say? He’d already thanked the Warrior of Light for inviting them over to her abode. 

Truthfully, he’d be silent save for that curt utterance of gratitude when they’d first met, and it had been Rielle who would be continuously running her mouth towards their smaller, demure companion until now - and Sidurgu is anything but a mind reader when it came to social interactions. His dumbfoundedness only irritates Rielle.

“Look how pretty she is! She must have put so much thought into dressing up just to meet us. Isn’t that right, Illya?”

With a sheepish shake of her head, the lalafellin woman raises a hand to quickly swat away at the air, embarrassment burning her cheeks a bright shade of red. 

“Goodness no... It’s no big deal, Rielle.” voice quiet even as she lets out a nervous laugh, Sidurgu swears he’s never heard Illya’s voice sound quite so much like little bells before now. “I must look quite strange.”

“Strange?? The only strange one here is Sid!” Rielle rebuttals, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “We’re here on a trip to visit you and here he is, mister tough guy dressed like he’s about to head into war.”

He takes no offense to that, merely meeting Rielle’s displeased glare up at him with raised eyebrows and a shrug of his shoulders. When was he ever not wearing his armor? 

“I simply prefer substance over style is all.”

Off-handed his remark may be, Rielle evidently took great offense to his response, eyebrows furrowed deeply into a scowl that took even the lalafellin by surprise. 

“How dare-” A foot brought forward, the elezen girl leans forward to admonish the man who could stare with mouth and eyes agape. “Of course you’d know nothing about style! That deadweight of metal you call clothing is going to be half the reason why you’ll never find a date,Sid. The other half being how rude you are!”

He’s stunned into silence once more, chills running through his nerves down the back of his spine despite the warm, humid air of the black shroud. And it isn’t until he hears the melodic giggle from the warrior of light did his momentarily short-circuited brain function enough again to allow him a soft, apologetic utterance of a ‘sorry’. 

It would seem Illya wasn’t the only one he’s unknowingly witnessed another side of today. 

[whitherliliesbloom]

your voice will save me

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #23 - soul ]

[ alphinaud/wol ] ★ [ 2,416 words ]  ★ [ post-5.3 ]

a sequel to a fill i did from last year’s ffxivwrite. i had the idea for this fic for a whole year but never got to write it. aka, it took one year for me to finally give alphinaud closure.

soul- the spiritual part of a person that some people believe continues to exist in some form after their body has died

it’s a long time coming, but alphinaud thinks he should finally tell the warrior of light the words his soul has been yearning to say for thousands of years

Revenant’s Toll feels particularly cold with the nightly breeze, and it sends chills down Alphinaud’s spine as he casts his glance outwards to look upon Silvertear falls, watching as the sky, now free from miasma, is glimmering with a sea of swaying stars that casts distant reflections of light upon the lake where the wings of a great wyrm once stood vigil.

He shivers, grasping at his gloved hand to steady himself, counting his own breaths as he looks upon the tower of crystals with a pang of hurt that leaves his throat dry. The sight of the tower alone reminds him of skyscrapers and the sound of distant rain, and memories that were not his own flash, albeit briefly, through his head like a bolt that strikes at his very heart. 

The boy barely manages to compose himself, steel himself with the resolve and cool that a distant, untarnished version of himself had once possessed. Even in the midst of falling stars, a rain of fire and rivers of blood that ran the streets, that man..... himself from an ancient time, Alphinaud acknowledges bitterly with bit lips, he would not allow his emotions to sway him so.

And yet when he hears a familiar voice call out to him from behind, call out to his very soul that has been aching since the beginning of time, he knew that the him of the present was incapable of being as cold and unfeeling as he had once been.

“Alphinaud?” his flower whispers a name into the night, his name. The name of his current form, one that he can barely hang on to as yet another brief flash of a blazing meteor shower tears through his focus. “You called for me?”

“Yes.” He holds his breath, turns around and gazes down at her with a muddied, dishonest smile upon his face. “I....I wanted to talk to you.” there’s hesitation as he speaks, pain laced in his tone, but Illya makes no remark on it as she moves to stand next to the man, crystal violet eyes cast skywards at the dead of the night. “I’m not bothering you am I?”

“You never bother me.” Illya responds swiftly, her fingers resting upon the stone railing and shivering a tad as she finds the surface cool to the touch.

He swallows the lump in his throat, eyes averting her own and body fidgety, restless as he attempts to find the words in him to even begin speaking - because heaven knows there are so many he wants to say to her.

Previous countless mental rehearsals are now forgotten, replaced with only the raw emotions of a flickering, barely visible light within him. 

“I.... I just wanted... To call you out here to... Well... clarify some things... and... and to apologize for others...”

His voice is sheepish, timid, completely unlike the assured confidence of her beloved scholar who had been so eager and ready, eyes blazing with confidence during his fight against the specters of light, his magicks woven from his passion like bursts of fire and gusts of summer wind.

But her smile is still patient and kind as she watches him carelessly stumble upon his words, a hand raising up to tuck a long fluttering strand of hair behind her ear as it blew effortlessly in the lake breeze.

“I never did apologize... Well, there are a lot of things I have to apologize for but-” Alphinaud frowns, “I-I.. I could not well carry on without first trying to apologize to you for all of my transgressions.” Inhaling sharply, the elezen clenches his fist and casts his gaze down upon the stone under his feet. “I’m sorry for worrying you so much all the time, especially when my soul had been pulled to the first. I’m sorry for not being there for you when you struggled with yourself... I’m sorry for putting you through such heinous betrayal because of my incompetence as a commander of the Crystal Braves. I’m sorry for all the times I used you, doubted you, hurt you...”

His voice shakes with the sorrow worth many years of regret, of the guilt he’s pent up and swore to himself he’d make amends for. His heart is aching, the agony of his own past sins coming back to haunt a more mature, wiser, older form of himself now. But he knows it is nothing compared to what he has put her through.

“When we first arrived in Ishgard, I promised you that I would do better - be better for the sake of the others and you who I have wronged. I don’t know if I’ve gotten far enough yet to say I’ve fulfilled that promise... And for that too, I am truly sorry.”

lllya parts her lips to speak, but her voice is hushed, watching as what little shred of dignity has drained from Alphinaud’s navy blue eyes with a sea of cyan sadness washing through her own. And when she takes a step towards him, he holds his hand up and she swallows back her protests reluctantly, intent to listen to his heart until the end even if it killed her to do so.

“And... and also... I’m sorry for pushing you away.” 

That statement applies to himself from six summers ago, but the distant glaze in his eyes as he attempts to recall memories of a long forgotten city tells the girl that he was referring to otherwise, and she casts him a confused tilt of her head before he finally speaks again.

“In a time long past... in a city of creation and innovation... That man, Apollo...” Alphinaud shakes his head. Saying another name that was not his own would be deflecting the blame, “the unsundered form of myself sought to reach distant heights that I believed not even the convocation could dream to match. And in my vain, egotistical pursuit for ideals that I wasn’t worthy of I...” He chokes back a sob, the thought of his sins against her too much for even himself to even recount. “I hurt you. I told you such blatant, awful lies. I let my jealousy and my own incompetence sweep me away. I-”

“Alphinaud.”

Her voice calls out his name. His name. The name of his current form - his present form. It is the only name Illya knows and will ever acknowledge. 

And though her expression is stern, eyebrows furrowed and peach pink lips pressed into a tight line, she still says his name like melted caramel, unbearably sweet and warm in its tone. 

“I can accept your apology for everything else. I forgive you. But you’re beginning to apologize for mistakes that aren’t your own.”

“But I am- I mean... it... is me.” 

In a way, he acknowledges... Not fully, of course... but the revelations of what had been his past life is proof enough that he, even if a fourteenth fraction of what had once been the man named Apollo, he still must bear part of the responsibility. 

He’s lucky enough as he is to have been granted a second chance, just as Apollo had begged and prayed to the heavens for. He cannot even fathom a world where he had not met Illya anymore.

His beloved smiles, hand raised up to press against her beating heart, as if to feel the essence of her twice rejoined soul. She searches for whispers of herself - of the perfection version of the woman she once was, feeling the bright amethyst constellation stone that bore the insignia of the blistering sun warm in her pocket. She hears no words, only a wave of emotions that cascade through her and almost sweeps her away - she has after all ever been the most sensitive with the voices of unseen beings. 

But even with the two shards of a whole soul shone brightly within her, and she can almost envision the visage of a dusty, quiet library in her mind, there is not a trace of anger or hurt in her heart. 

“I am Illya Skawi. And you are Alphinaud Leveilleur.” Her gentle tone belies the weak little tremble in her voice as her eyes swirl with an ocean of unfiltered emotions. “I am nowhere near as perfect as Chloris, I know I can never be.” Her hands clasp together tightly, held close to her chest as if to guard her heart. “I may inherit her will... but I will never be her.”

Where Chloris had bright, flawless sanguine pink eyes that morphed in hue to reflect her thoughts, Illya inherited a pair of more timid orbs of lavender twilight. Where Chloris had unmarred skin of a porcelain doll, Illya’s skin was covered with a map of the galaxy - the speckle of stars from bullet holes upon her thighs, the milky way that cut across her collar bone and the auroras taking the form of teeth marks all over her abdomen. 

And where Chloris had an unparalleled talent for optimism, charisma and hope, what remained in Illya was only the painful, unreciprocated love she had for the world that would be the very bane of her mental stability for as long as she can remember. 

Even with her soul reunited with Ardbert’s, she knows she is but a husk of what had once been the fourteenth member of the convocation - of azem... Emet-Selch at least wasn’t mistaken in spelling that fact out. 

“And the woman that Apollo loved is not me - not this ugly, fragmented, weak little shard as I am.”

That’s absolute nonsense, Alphinaud wants to retort. Illya is anything but. It may not who Chloris had once been - but it is who the woman he loves is. Whole, beautiful and divine, her hair is woven from moonlight and her eyes are pressed from a bouquet blossomed flowers. Her voice a melody of a songbird, her skin a distant and unexplored, yet welcoming cosmos. She is a ray of hope, not just for him, but practically everyone else he knows... and he could think of no better personification of perfection than her. 

The world may disagree, the ancients may cry in protest and the whole, unbroken version of him may think to question his judgement. 

But Alphinaud knows, even if he is wrong about everything else and will continue to be as imperfect and sinfully tainted as he is, that he isn’t wrong about her.

“You’re not- You are not....ugly...” the words die at his throat, he’s lacking in the strength to debate as fervently as he is usually capable of doing. “Or weak for that matter. You’re...” 

“I’m not Chloris. And you’re not Apollo, either. Perhaps we were once upon a time, but not now, not here.”

The breeze picks up and howls in his ears, carrying the chill of his doubts and guilt away into the night. And as the bearer of hopes and miracles flashes him a radiant smile, he feels his chest clenching with a warmth that he can barely contain.

Illya turns to look back over Silvertear falls, the light from the moon and the fields of crystals casting a halo over her hair as it fluttered like a veil in the wind. Her skin glows with color, warm against the backdrop of grey stone and dark blue sky. 

“I did ponder over the circumstances of our meeting... If it was pure coincidence or a mechanism of fate bringing their souls... our souls together again.” Illya hums, fiddling with her fingers as she contemplates out loud. “And I wonder... if the other shards of Chloris and Apollo are so tightly wound together that they’d meet again in other worlds too...” 

“They will.” He answers on impulse, as if his entire being already knew the answer. “I believe they will.” 

It’s a naive and an impossibly idealistic wish... one with a hint of selfishness and ego too, perhaps... but those are the core of who he is- who his soul is. And if Apollo loved Chloris even half as much as he loved Illya, then he knows, is certain with all his heart that the thread that keeps their fourteen souls tied together for eternity will not be so easily severed. 

There’s a quiet that looms over them, with only the sounds of the wind and the chirping of the crickets ringing in the air. Illya doesn’t turn to look back at him for a minute, lost in her own thought and drowning in a pool of her own emotions - thousands of years worth of them.

“That’s good. I’m glad...”

When the girl turns around, her violet eyes are wet with crystal clear tears, they catch the rays of moonlight and reflect off her face as they roll down her cheeks past upturned lips. 

“Because Chloris loved Apollo, you know? She loved him very very much.”

Alphinaud hadn’t noticed when he’d started crying either, quiet sobs breaking out of him as he lets out a choked laugh, raising a gloved hand to feebly wipe away his tears.

“He did too. He loved her so much that it killed him.” 

His heart is so full to the brim, spilling with unbearable adoration and devotion. When Illya spreads her arms out wordlessly, sniffling back her own trickling, glistening tears, he picks her up and wraps his arms tightly around her, feeling the beating of his heart match in tandem with her own. 

In their warm, tender embrace, he hears the echoes of a distant past - yet another vision of a splitting star flashes in his mind. But he doesn’t flinch this time as he holds his entire world in his arms, afraid and determined to never let go. 

“I love you. I love you.” Her declaration is all he hears, along with quiet whispers of his name. His real name. 

Alphinaud. Alphinaud. Alphinaud. Alphinaud.

This love was hers to bear, and no one else’s - not Chloris, not Ardbert, not the twelve other flickering star blossoms that are out there, undoubtedly fighting with their entire being to reunite with their own other half. And no cry of ancient beings, no fracturing of worlds or falling of the moon or stars will stop her from loving him. Even until the sun sets, even until the end of times. 

And though their souls may have been set adrift, he knew that his soul would always be destined to love hers in return.

“I love you too, Illya.” 

[whitherliliesbloom]

FFXIVWRITE2021 ☆ MY FILLS ☆ PROMPT LIST ☆ AO3 MIRROR (tba)

// COMPLETED! //

total word count: 52,093 words (including bonus) longest fill: fate matrix [5,241 words] shortest fill: sins of the spectator [537 words]

personal favorites: 03 scale - heartbeat concerto 05 fate - fate matrix 14 commend - lights, camera, duty commenced 17 destruct - when the light blinds 22 fluster - in the eyes of the beholder 23 soul - your voice will save me 29 debonair - all like magic to my riddled heart 31 nocturne - to the moon and back

01 FOSTER - taming the stray kayelily // post-shb // 888 words lily still remembers how kaye’s eyes had looked 7 summers ago, when it was filled with naught but distrust and contempt for the world

02 ABERRANT- style over shadow drk npcs // post-shb // 1,037 words sidurgu convinces himself that the black chunks of metal suited the warrior of light far more than pastel pink frills and flowers. rielle is more than eager to dispute that

03 SCALE - heartbeat concerto alphinaudxwol // nodame cantabile au // 2,605 words illya prays to the heavens that the man beside her does not hear the fortissimo that was her pounding heart.

04 BALEFUL - in scornful eyes wol, gaius & alisaie // post-sb // 838 words gaius van baelsar did not fear death, but it didn’t make the warrior of light’s glare, full of seething hatred and fury any less frightening

05 FATE (free) - fate matrix alphinaudxwol // fate matrix au // 5,241 words in a world where the hands of destiny are ones and zeros, at the center of the matrix was a little goddess who would soon find out that she too, isn’t immune to the pull of fate

06 AVATAR - discord-ance spud squad & alphinaud // modern au // 603 words alphinaud infiltrates the spud squad discord server and finds… what else, but chaos?

07 SPECULATE - sins of the spectator alphinaudxwol // post-hw // 537 words at what point does speculation turn into accusation… and accusation comes to cause harm?

08 ADROIT - sweetened tea and midnight ink alphinaudxwol // post-canon // 1,022 words there’s an art to deflection, one alphinaud thought it has fully mastered. unfortunately, his wife is even better at seeing through lies

09 FRIABLE - by the book tataru & alphinaud // pre-endwalker // 666 words the last time alphinaud tasted scones this unappetizing was back in old sharlayan. and though he doesn’t exactly mind, it is absolutely a problem when the one he hopes to gift his baked goods to also happens to be one of eorzea’s best culinarians and the hero of the star both

10 HEADY - fragrant sorrow implied kayelily // wozwald au // 1,805 words even after all these years, the scent of flowers brought the god of death the most amount of pain

11 PREACHING TO THE CHOIR - a house of cards alphinaudxwol // tears of themis au // 1,468 words it takes unwavering conviction, something alphinaud never once doubted stellis’ best junior attorney to possess in strides

12 WANDERLUST (free) - take me to where your heart meets mine alphinaudxwol // post-canon // 1,265 words the warrior of light’s home is often empty, but her heart will ever be full and bursting to the brim with love

13 ONEIROPHRENIA - quietus kaye & illya // wozwald au // 1,858 words in the midst of his delirious, drunken haze he saw her - he can’t tell if it was meant to be his final blessing or an eternal curse

14 COMMEND - lights, camera, duty commenced! illya, g’raha & emet // actors au // 2,263 words behind the scenes of the critically acclaimed long running tv show, final fantasy fourteen, g’raha tia is (almost) inconsolable after he reads the final act’s script

15 THUNDEROUS - if you can hear my tune alphinaudxwol // nodame cantabile au // 1,120 words on a particularly stormy night, when the angry claps of thunder would normally drown out the sounds of the piano, illya wonders if the boy next door would be able to hear the tune of her sincerity and gratitude

16 CRANE - birds of a feather illya & friends // no particular time period // 1,847 words though their species varies as much as the colors of their plumages, birds of a feather flock the warrior of light together

17 DESTRUCT - when the light blinds alphinaudxwol // major shb spoilers // 1,270 words when the light in her shines so brightly that the stars in her eyes have been blinded completely, alphinaud feared that he’d forever lose that which served as his beacon of hope during his darkest moments

18 DEVIL’S ADVOCATE - pearls of wisdom illya & kokomi // post-sb // 1,291 words it just takes a devil’s advocate clad in the form of an angelic surface dweller to convince kokomi to finally leave the coral palace behind

19 LUMINARY - to you who showed me the stars illya & kokomi // post-5.55 // 880 words the soft ripples upon the mirror like water turns the surface beneath their feet into a sparkling, luminescent stage. and in the midst of a meteor shower, a pair of girls who have had all their wishes fulfilled cast their eyes upwards at the star tide

20 PETRICHOR - river flows in you kaye & eulalie // post-canon, alt canon verse // 1,412 words mama wasn’t lying when she said thanalan was often full of unexpected surprises. heavy downpour upon a place named drybone, and an unplanned run in with one of her parents’ long standing allies being two of them

21 FECKLESS - what the heart is to the weak illya & ardbert // early shb // 1,556 words in both their worlds, victory was not decided by power, but by the strength of  convictions. for they who carry the fate of the realm upon their shoulders, conviction is something that must be hard earned with their blood and tears

22 FLUSTER - in the eyes of the beholder alphinaudxwol // post-canon // 2,042 words they say an artists always inadvertently pours their heart’s true feelings into their drawings

23 SOUL - your voice will save me alphinaudxwol // post-5.3 // 2,416 words it’s a long time coming, but alphinaud thinks he should finally tell the warrior of light the words his soul has been yearning to say for thousands of years

24 ILLUSTRIOUS - eyes fixed upon a shiny ray alphinaudxwol // aetherweave au // 2,858 words asking the star student of the most prestigious magic academy in eorzea out to the end of year prom is as daunting as it sounds

25 SILVER LINING - in a place where dreams continue alphinaudxwol // mermaid au // 1,422 words getting caught in a terrible storm and being thrown overboard may just be the worst thing that has ever happened to alphinaud - or the best

26 HEARTFELT - all that glitters alphinaudxwol // genshin impact au // 2,105 words on the first full moon of the lunar new year, liya has only a single selfish wish as she gazes up into the sea of lights

27 BENTHOS - beyond lulled waters alphinaudxwol // nagi no asukara au // 1,452 words where the sea meets the land, a promise is made between a boy and a girl who come from radically different worlds

28 BOW - towards a tomorrow illya & kirishimi // period drama au // 2,062 words kirishimi didn’t care for frilly dresses or etiquette unless it was to make a statement - so she gets lessons from the most ladylike friend she knows

29 DEBONAIR - all like magic to my riddled heart alphinaudxwol // post-canon // 2,415 words on the occasion that alphinaud feels confident enough to perfectly exude his charm, illya never fails to be swept off her feet

30 ABSTRACTED - weaving the present, illuminating the future illya & friends // streamers au // 2,849 words the spud squad announce their indefinite hiatus right after releasing their one year anniversary single, and illya cannot help but to feel just a tad bit melancholic

31 NOCTURNE - to the moon and back alphinaudxwol // pre-endwalker // 1,000 words “what do we have to fear? after all, we’ve come this far.”

[whitherliliesbloom]

fate matrix

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #05 (free) - fate ]

[ alphinaud/wol & cameos and mentions of some friend ocs, you’re gonna have to read to find out who :) ] ★ [ 5,241 words (oof) ]  ★ [ fate matrix au ]

fate: be destined to happen, turn out, or act in a particular way

in a world where the hands of destiny are ones and zeros, at the center of the matrix was a little goddess who would soon find out that she too, isn’t immune to the pull of fate

Day ???? | 07:07am | Day of Destined Meetings

An alarm rings, beeping in an increasingly loud volume as the monitors begin booting up. As light from the screens flood the room, the sound of cotton ruffling can be heard, followed by a soft little yawn.

The girl stirs, clutching at her duvet for warmth before her eyelids flutter open. Bright violet eyes stare up at the ceiling, where the patches of glow up star stickers have lost their radiance in the midst of the fluorescent bulb lighting up. Blinded momentarily, she grimaces, before rolling onto her side and sitting up.

“Good morning, alpha.” A melodic voice chirps out merrily from her parted lips, and she raises a hand to pet the head of the stuffed chocobo that she had been laying beside. “It’s time for work again, huh?”

Stretching her arms high above her head with a final, long yawn, the girl shuffles over to the minibar that was tucked under the table, pulling the door open before grabbing a small tub of yoghurt and peeling it open to peer inside curiously.

Oh, it’s strawberry today, how wonderful! Whoever or whatever magical force is behind stocking up the minibar seems to be in her favor this morning.

Grateful now for her breakfast, the girl slides over to the front of the bed, and places her hand on the mouse after taking a spoonful of the yoghurt into her mouth.

System booting... Please enter password. >illyaskawi03112 Log in successful. Fatematrix.exe starting. Welcome, Alice. 

The monitors that surround her begin loading up window tabs after window tabs - and at the center on her main monitor, a sizeable grid of glowing icons pop up, along with a smaller, more discreet window showing a map tucked away at the corner of the screen.

Visual stimuli overload aside, the girl seemed to be completely unphased as she bites into yet another scoopful of yoghurt before setting the tub next to her white keyboard, as if this were a scene she’s had to see countless times now. 

It’s a routine, a well rehearsed routine that the girl effortlessly goes through the motions of daily. The fate matrix is ever in need of use and she, the center of it all, was more than happy to take control. 

That is, after all, the will of her late mother... the previous Alice and goddess of the fate matrix. It is simply her duty to carry on in her legacy. And as per her duty, she begins to spin the wheel of fate, clicking on the very first icon that boots up the fate matrix’s tool assistant. A bright blue pop up appears that the girl drags to the side, and text begins to appear.

Good morning, Alice. Today is a day of destined meetings. I would suggest working on getting soul mates together for the day.

Internally, Illya is delighted. Soul mates were one of her favorite types of work to focus on... and though they were rarely ever more urgent than other types of assignments like accident prevention, weather management or economic balance, it was one that often brought her a great amount of joy. 

After all, what was sweeter than nudging two souls who were meant for each other closer? It was the very concept of soul mates, and the tales of the red thread of fate after all, that drew her mother into the concept of fate and caused her to develop the fate matrix.

A soft smile graces her features, and she moves her cursor to click on the second icon, which loads for a second before breaking apart into smaller, glowing dots that scatter across the map - with two dots that indicated soul mates being linked by a dotted line. 

Time to get to work!

01:46pm

When Illya clicked on the glowing two red dots upon the map, she hadn’t expected to be shown live footage of the two targets in the very same room. 

It’s not uncommon for soul mates to have already met each other, or even be familiar with one another already despite not having made their feelings for each other known yet... but they were cases that were, in Illya’s experience, a little more difficult to work on. 

It was easy to nudge two strangers in the same direction or plant small, innocuous thoughts that would help draw two acquaintances into wanting to spend more time with their soul mate. It was far more difficult to convince stubborn people who have, despite many fateful circumstances, refused to confess their feelings to the object of their confession. 

After all, the fate matrix was capable of many things - but controlling or taking over the will of people was not one of them. 

Illya has convinced two stubborn souls to finally open up in the past though, she was certain she could do so again - she did so with the likes of the two childhood friends, Moth’ir and Thancred... a case which she would never in a million years soon forget... or the infuriatingly obstinate refusal of a pink haired miqo’te girl to confess to her close friend and personal trainer, Haurchefant Greystone... who had been more than obvious with his flirtations for years. 

Alice, you have yet to eat your lunch. A quick break is highly suggested. 

The tool assistant sends a reminder through a text in it’s window, which Illya is swift to ignore. She can eat once she’s done with this case. 

She watched through the monitor as the pair sat on the couch, a girl with straight cut bangs and piercing red eyes lounging lazily with her back propped against the arm rest and her legs laid over her taller, lankier male friend, who seemed to be frustrated at the girl’s refusal to pay him any attention.

“Why invite me over if you’re just going to play your game?” 

“Hmph! Says the guy who invited me over to his place only to kick me out halfway through because some of his friends were going to pay him a surprise visit!”

The man lets out a hefty sigh.

“I already apologized for that. And that was over a week ago. Are you seriously still-”

“Yes, yes I am!” Without even looking up from her smartphone, the girl lets out a dramatic huff while admonishing her friend. “I don’t get why you’re so adamant about me not meeting your friends. Why, are you scared they’ll misunderstand and think I’m your girlfriend?”

“That’s- That’s not-”

From the heartrate monitor, Illya can tell that was only part of the reason for his behavior. The true reason, and an explanation that the girl understood full well why he would refuse to tell his friend was written in text in a separate window next to his heartrate monitor. 

The girl, Totomi Tomi, or better known by her stage name as Mint, was something of a minor celebrity on the internet. Known for her jovial personality and the many covers of vocaloid songs she posted on her well known eorzeatube page, it wouldn’t be a stretch to call her an idol - even if she wasn’t officially acknowledged or employed as one by some idol management company. Her friend, Estinien, and the object of her very strong feelings towards, had friends who were apparently fans of hers. 

It was for that very reason that, for her protection and to spare her the oogling of strangers, that he’d kept his friendship with the young idol a secret from others. 

In his eyes, perhaps dating her would be the quickest way to convince his friends to back off... but that would only come after they’d confessed their feelings - which they haven’t. 

“That’s not important.” Estinien finally retorts after stumbling after his words for a moment, and Illya has to resist the urge to slam her head against the keyboard.

“Ohhhh... Kay.” Mint rolls her eyes, Illya mirrors the action. 

What Illya doesn’t anticipate however, is Estinien’s next words, for as bold and uncharacteristic for an emotionally closed off man such as him.

“Why? Are you disappointed? You almost sound like you want to be known as my girlfriend.” 

Mint chokes on her spit, sputtering and gurgling out incomprehensible words until she recovers - but only barely... and now with a dark red blush plastered over her freckled cheeks.

“I-In your dreams, maybe!” Her blatant lie is apparent to all but... the ones who are present in the room. “Besides, I already have someone I like!” 

“Oh?” Illya can hear the sheer contempt from her headphones, and she grimaces at the man’s deep frown. “Do tell, who is it?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, dunderhead!”

“Tell me. I’m curious.” 

“Nope nope nope nope nope noppetty nope! Why’d you think I would ever tell you, huh??”

Mint sticks her tongue out at the man, who scowls deeper and nudges the woman’s legs off of his lap.

“Fine. How about a bet then.”

“What bet?”

The man points to the phone she has in her hands.

“Since you’re so fond of your gacha games, and you’re always bragging about how good your luck is, why don’t we make a bet using your game?” 

Snatching the phone out of Mint’s hand despite her protests, Estinien taps on the settings button before clicking on the gacha button, the screen switching to the current limited rate up banner of a popular event character.

“If you get a character of the highest rarity within 50 draws, you have to tell me who your crush is.”

“W-why would I even agree to that?? I’ve been saving my primos for Xi-Ao you know?!” 

“I’ll pay for your pulls. It’s a win-win for you that way, no? You get free pulls from the game, I get to know who your crush is if you get a shiny new character.”

Mint pulls back, hesitant and suspicion clear in her eyes, but still enough to hint at consideration.

“And what’s in it for me? What if I do pull a 5 star character?”

After much consideration, Estinien responds once more.

“I’ll let you whale for whatever character you want next on my credit card. And I’ll cosplay with you at the next convention.”

At the condition of his loss set, Mint’s face lights up with pure elation, as she snatches her phone back from her friend with a cheeky grin on her face.

“Deal! You’re so going to lose, long bean! My luck in Genshin Impact’s second to none! I can’t wait to make you cosplay sailor moon!!”

An equally devious smile spreads across the face of Alice, whose hands are swift to pull up another window tab reserved specifically for video game and gambling luck. 

She has always admittedly been favorable and gracious in giving out good draws to people who deserve it - the program she has running in the background is testament to that... And she has no doubt in her mind that the fate matrix has been generous in it’s givings to Mint, if her boastings are anything to go by. 

Mint must thusly, be a good person.... and she deserves a fate more fulfilling than virtual characters on a screen.

The girl must truly feel confident in herself, as she hits the draw x10 button without a single hesitation. 

Illya begins typing the code into the new window, and sympathy wells in her heart as she hears Mint huff in minor disappointment.

“Only one 4 star? Eh, it’s just a fluke, I have 40 more pulls and I’m close to soft pity too!”

“Good luck.” Estinien chuckles mockingly, and Mint lets out a growl before pressing on the draw x10 button again.

Nothing. The third ten pull is no better - with nothing but a single 4 star weapon to show for her efforts. Mint is evidently getting more nervous as her finger shakes, pressing down on the button that will decide her fate for the fourth time.

She was so certain she’d get a 5 star by now - she normally gets what she wants within the first thirsty pulls, and it’s a normal occurrence to even pull multiple 5 stars within the same roll... So... why?

Her 40th pull ends with two 4 star characters, a sight better than the ones before... a sign of Illya’s pity on her... but still not a condition for her win.

“Oh, someone’s getting nervous.” Estinien smirks, “You’re on your last pull away from telling me who you have a crush on.”

“H-hah! That’s where you’re wrong!” Mint exclaims, jabbing a finger at him. “The chances of getting a 5 star increases with each pull, so i’m almost a hundred percent certain I’ll get one this time!”

Mint’s heartrate monitor is going off the charts, and Illya has to intervene by lowering her vitals enough so she wouldn’t pass out from sheer nervousness. It does little to hide it from Estinien, however, who could only relish every second of Mint’s rapidly darkening blush as she finally taps on the draw x10 button one final time.

The shooting star across the screen flickers, before bursting into a shade of pink that has Mint leaning back with mouth agape, a mixture of sheer shock and terror on her expression. 

Hopelessness is all she feels as she taps, taps and taps, and the roll summary page shows naught but a single Benny - the unluckiest character in the game, grinning widely at her.

“Well, well, well. Looks like I won.” Estinien sounds way too casual and smug, unaware of the monumentally immense amount of bad fortune that had just befallen his friends. “As per our deal, you’re going to have to tell me who your crush is.”

Illya feels sorry for her meddling, and she makes a mental note to herself to bless Mint’s future rolls with as many of the highest rarity characters she could possibly afford to give without breaking the laws of probability too much... but when Mint finally breaks out of her stutter and sets her phone down on her lap, hands grasping so tightly at the hem of her skirt that her knuckles turned white, the girl knew that she’d dealt the woman a hand far kinder than if she had not.

“I-It’s...... It’s you, okay?”

07:32pm

Alice it is time for dinner. The curry will get cold if you leave it out for too long.

Illya’s tendency to ignore the tool assistant in regards to her own wellbeing was concerning, but not an anomaly. In fact, it was far more rare for the text in the pop up to be spared more than a single second’s glance from her. 

Whether it was reminders for her to eat, for her to sleep early, to hydrate or to stretch after hours hunched over her keyboard in front of glaringly bright monitors for a good whole of her day, the tool assistant’s well meaning messages would always go ignored.

It’s a natural part of it’s program, Illya tells herself, as she filters through lists of finished cases before moving on to pending ones. Much like the fate matrix, that ran on a code that was, in admittance, far more complex than even she could fully comprehend... the tool assistant ran on code. It was an artificial intelligence her mother had created during her last few months of life, something that, according to the note left in the hard drive of the fate matrix, would help Illya better slip into her role as adjudicator of fate. 

She’d remembered when she first awoke in this room and on the bed, not having any recollection of how she’d even arrived in the first place. The momentary panic and confusion had been replaced with a sense of obligation... of duty and honor when she booted up the computer for the first time to be greeted with the words from the tool assistant - as well as a lengthy message from her late mother.

We who do not belong to the realm of mortals... we who possess the blood of fate. We bear the burden of watching over the world and making sure that it is a safer, happier, better place for everyone. Only you alone can take possession of the fate matrix in my stead, and I pray you’ll forgive me for not being able to say goodbye to you in person.

Family meant the world to Illya, it has ever been that way. She spent a good amount of her childhood in the company of her parents, with little understanding of the world beneath. She had no concept of the idea of fate, of how destiny was dealt... only that her mother had a significant role to play, and that her time with her family was soon to be cut short by a crippling, unkind illness that not even the fate matrix could undo. 

Illya’s never tried stepping out of her room before. She has always assumed that it exists in some kind of void or overworld that overlooked the mortal realm. It mattered not, really... The only thing important was that mother had left this place behind, and wanted her only daughter to inherit her role as Alice.

It was with that responsibility in mind that drove Illya to stay seated in front of the monitors for as long as she has. 

Time is no longer being a concept, the rising and falling of the sun no longer visible to her eyes aside from a arbitrary number on the clock that served more as a timer for how long she has left to work until exhaustion would consume her. 

Do you not wonder what it’s like to have friends, Alice?

Recently, however the tool assistant has been sending her more and more pointless questions... questions that went far beyond the daily self-maintenance reminders that she could understand her mother programming in for her wellbeing, questions aimed to be poignant and was targeted to making her feel more isolated and alone than it did help. It was bordering on annoyance.

You could leave this room any time you wanted.

And why would she do that? She murmured to herself as she typed in code to program a heavy storm, forcing a raven haired lalafellin man to offer his umbrella to his soul mate who had been stranded under a lone busstop - a pink haired woman with olive green eyes who seemed utterly smitten with him upon first sight.

Her purpose was here, to take control of the fate matrix, to grant happy memories, to save lives, to fulfill wishes and dreams. There can be no greater and heavier responsibility to bear in the world. 

Truthfully, the reason why Illya stayed at first had solely because of her mother’s wishes... But now, it was more than that. 

Because the idea of separating herself from the fate matrix... and not being able to grant the kindness of fate that so many people in the world deserved... it was a pain that was worth her own sense of self. 

Are you not lonely? Do you not want someone to love you?

Why did it matter if she was lonely? The envy and curiosity she feels upon watching a group of friends hanging out together is nothing in comparison to the pain mortals felt from a love unrequited, or a loved one losing their life. 

She taps furiously on a historian with bright red hair and eyes, forcing him to get a wardrobe malfunction that would push him to visit a tailor where an impish lalafellin fashion designer with snow white freckles awaited him with choice words of ridicule. She tips over a telephone pole that causes two surf shop co-owners who were on a road trip to park by the roadside so that they may witness a falling star, wishes made leading to their confession. She painstakingly guides a woman with silver hair and golden yellow eyes towards a drycleaner, where she initiates easy banter with a man who she later finds out was her old schoolmate.

Juno and Ysayle, Bianca and Varis, Niqesse and Zenos, Nowi and June. She remembers the soul mates she pushes together by name, and treasures the happiness they are sure to feel from their memories as if they were her own.

Detached from their world she may be, it is through the fate matrix that she can experience a sliver of their joy and love... even if it is for a fleeting moment before she must move on to the next. 

11:17pm

One more assignment, she tells herself, eyes bloodshot and fingers sore from typing. One more case and she’ll eat before going to bed. She has done much for the day as it is... but she cannot rest until she’s closed one particular case that has her vexed for the entire day.

A pair of glowing purple dots that has been plastered on the map since morning has her thoroughly vexed... because for some reason or another, she cannot seem to gather information on one half of the pair. 

She’s able to view the other half just fine - a dashing young man who seemed to be a senior in university despite his age, having skipped two grades due to his academic prowess. He is incredibly gifted, possessing not only of superior intellect but also an artistic hand and charismatic demeanor that makes him quite popular at his school.

But no matter how much she clicked on the other purple dot, or made futile attempts to manually search for data on his other half, nothing would show up. No windows, no tabs... What was even more perplexing was that the dot hadn’t moved on the map at all. 

Illya had paid especially close attention to the purple dots ever since she’d found this anomaly in the fate matrix... she was certain she would have noted movement if there had been any at all. 

But whereas the icon of the boy had understandably been moving throughout the city of Sharlayan, the icon of his mysterious other half hadn’t, laying stagnant on a singular point of the map in the middle of what appeared to be an old apartment complex.

It was as if his soul mate just... didn’t exist at all. 

The boy didn’t have any romantic feelings for anyone, nor did it seem like there was anyone at his school that would have an attachment to him that extended beyond admiration or a short-term attraction, which she’s long learned to tell apart from genuine love. If the tool assistant had a text saying that her target simply did not have a soul mate at all, she’d have been inclined to believe it.

But the other purple dot that connected to his does not lie. If he didn’t have a soul mate, his icon wouldn’t be connected to the other. Her tool assistant wouldn’t have told her, very deliberately she may add, that he did in fact have a soul mate and that it was imperative for her to unite them.

But how was she to make two people meet when she could not even tell who the other was? It was the first time Illya’s wondered if there was even any point to her efforts. 

Desperate times call for desperate measures, then. It may be unnatural for a piece of note to fall from the sky, but it was perhaps her final chance to get the boy to meet his soul mate before the opportunity would be lost forever.

Assignments from her pending window are known to disappear all of a sudden, and soul mates who were attached and at their prime for a fated meeting for the moment often times disappear from the map entirely... a tragedy as a result to the slipping of time that the fate matrix cannot rectify... and she’d be damned if she let it happen to this case just because of a simple glitch. 

The boy, Alphinaud Leveilleur, star student of the nation’s most prestigious academy, had been walking home from his late night seminars. His position was unnervingly close to where his soul mate is, and since she could not think of any way she could naturally nudge him in the direction of the apartment complex, she writes a note posing as his soul mate and drops it from the sky.

“W-what in the twelve?”

The boy catches it in mid-air, looking at the haphazardly scribbled words on the paper. 

PLEASE HELP ME. I’M BEING HELD AGAINST MY WILL. I’M BEING TRAPPED AT _______________

She made the handwriting disorderly intentionally... just to sell the idea of a person being trapped better, of course. She’d even slathered on a small smudge of blood on the corner of the note to make it more convincing... and it seemed to have done the trick as the boy widens his navy blue eyes in alarm, head turned up in the direction of the apartment complex he stood next to.

Illya can tell he has his doubts, and she doesn’t blame him... It’s suspicious enough that the call for help would just so conveniently fall towards him as he was walking past... but he’s never known any criminal activity to have taken place in that apartment complex - Sharlayan is relatively safe compared to it’s neighbor, Mor Dhona. 

A few simple thoughts however, might just do the trick into getting him to spring into action. 

Injecting into his mind, Illya types out frantically into the text box for thought processing. 

What if this is real? What if there really is someone in need of rescuing and I just walked by without helping them? What if they appeared on the news tomorrow? I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself. What if... what if this note really is fate?

She’s preying on his upright and morally upstanding character, she knows that... and it never feels good to take advantage of a objectively good person’s kindness... But her determination to grant him lifelong happiness wins as she watches through the live feed the as the boy clutches onto the note close to his chest and begins to run into the carpark of the apartment complex before heading inside.

Zooming into the map, she sees that her target is taking the lift up to the highest floor, his heartrate skyrocketing at an alarming pace as she panics for a moment and has to manually adjust it back down. He’s nervous... and she must admit that she is too.

When he leaves the lift, his footsteps are unsteady and hesitant... But a few more encouraging thoughts was enough to get him to push forward until he’s standing in front of a door - the only door on the last floor of the complex, as it would happen.

Illya tries to look into the room, but the window that pops up is but a single black screen that has her sighing. No matter. The fact that there even was a window in the first place is progress. 

She’s gotten this far into leading him here... all he has to do is open the door where his other half is sure to be on the other side.

The boy tries to twist open the door knob, the metal rattlingly noisily in Illya’s headphones. But it doesn’t budge or give way. 

Figures that it’d be locked. How is she supposed to lead him inside? She can’t ring the doorbell because, for as odd as it is, there is none... and she cannot pull up any information on his soul mate, let alone inject into thoughts into their head to open the door. It’s far too suspicious to drop the key to the door right in front of him. 

With each second that passes, it seemed like the boy was letting his doubts begin to sway his decision to stay more and more... and Illya’s heart drops into the pit of her stomach when she sees the boy begin to step away from the door and reaching into his bag for his phone, a thought bubble popping up above him.

I should call the police, instead...

“No! You mustn’t!” Illya yells out by instinct.

“Huh???” the boy’s eyes widen once more, and to Illya’s utter confusion, he bolts forward and is now banging his fist against the door. “Hello?! Are you okay?! If you’re in there and you need help, please say something again!”

He must’ve heard a voice.... Illya mused, eyes glistening with intrigue... her voice. Did her mic turn on by accident? Or perhaps she’d projected her voice onto the door out of instinct. She wouldn’t be surprised if she did... but the most important thing is that it worked, and it got the boy to stay. 

“Y-yes! I’m... I’m in here!” Illya responds, intentionally letting out sobs into her microphone this time, “p-please help me... I-I’m really hurt and I don’t know when they’ll get back!” 

Alphinaud’s heartrate is beating faster than it’s ever had before... and Illya makes no attempts to lower it as she watches the boy grit his teeth and set his bookbag down.

“A-alright! Stand back! I’ll try to knock the door down!” 

Good thinking, Illya hums to herself in silence. The door seems old and rickety on its own... unless his soul mate has very deliberately barricaded the inside, there shouldn’t be any reason why he’d not be able to knock it down.

The boy begins to slam his torso into the door, pulling himself back before once more rushing into the door, and the sound of banging fills Illya’s headphones. It’s oddly loud and deafening... but she makes no attempts to lower her volume as she grips the edge of her keyboard in anticipation.

“Don’t worry miss! Just a bit more! I’ll get you out, I promise!” 

His sincerity touches her... and though it is wholly unnecessary, Illya is moved to speak into the mic once more... and her words causes a surge of renewed energy to flow through him.

“Yes! I believe in you! I’m waiting!”

Illya has never known what the outside of her room looked like... nor the time or space that occupied it. It was never necessary, she’d convinced herself... She was simply content with watching the outside world through the lens of the fate matrix while playing the ultimate puppet master.

She has never smelled the outside air, never seen the light of the sun, never once touched the hands of another... not since she arrived here.

When the door to her room clattered noisily onto the ground, so loudly that she could not chalk it up to being a result of the projection in her headphone, the girl spun around... and stared with wide, bewildered and confused eyes at the boy in front of her - clear without the pixels of the screen obscuring him... clear and oh so very real.

Beads of sweat trickling down his brows from exertion... his usually neat fitting uniform disheveled from strain... 

And in his clear blue eyes was the reflection of herself, staring back at her as if they were a window to her future.

“Y-you.... you are....?”

The tool assistant of the fate matrix sends another text, which goes unread and ignored by Alice once again. 

You watch over the fate of others. But even you aren’t immune to the hands of fate.

[whitherliliesbloom]

heartbeat concerto

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #03 - scale ]

[ alphinaud/wol ]  ★ [ 2,605 words ]  ★ [ nodame cantabile au ]

scale: an arrangement of the notes in any system of music in ascending or descending order of pitch

Illya prays to the heavens that the man beside her does not hear the fortissimo that was her pounding heart. 

“Rachmaninoff?” Her voice was equal parts confused as it was alarmed, hiking in pitch that sounded like an ear piercing squeak, almost grimace worthy. Trepidation rings loud in her chest, like shrieking white noise that deafens her. “I’ve never played a concerto in front of somebody before.” 

She had hoped that admittance would allow him to grant her some fraction of mercy. After all... for as gracious and supportive a tutor as he was a diligently observant audience for her playing, he surely wouldn’t throw her into the deep end after she’d just barely able to make some progress, right?

The boy merely smiles, navy blue eyes softening in its gaze as he waves the music sheets in his hands before placing them delicately upon the piano stand. He exudes an aura of gentle reassurance, but knows that his resolve to push her past her comfortable limits is implacable. 

“Now would be a good time for a first then, wouldn’t you agree?”

Illya heart sinks, lips pressed into a thin, paling line as she glances at the score that awaited her - notes upon lines that were rapidly blurring into nothing but squiggles and incomprehensible doodles in her vision... as if taunting her, daring her to butcher one of the most iconic piano concertos to have ever been composed - by one of the greatest virtuoso pianists to have ever lived no less? 

Sonatas were one thing - it took Illya a good amount of time to be able to even bring herself to play the first movement of Sonata Facile to completion in front of him without breaking down into a mess of cold sweat and trembling fingers. 

But concertos... by the twelve, even saying the word brings her chills down her spine. 

She was nowhere near good enough for pieces that demanded such high amounts of skill, precision and talent... nowhere even close to being able to perform alone on stage for a crowd to behold... let alone in front of an entire orchestra. 

When she had met the violin prodigy that had been her new neighbor and he’d offered to help her overcome the performance anxiety that had crippled her ability to play the piano in front of others for years, she hadn’t expected for him to have such sky high expectations for her - expectations that she was certain she’d never in a million years be able to meet.

Alphinaud is a confident, assured young man. Performing was only natural to him, came as naturally as music does flow through his very veins - he had even stated so on the very day that they’d met. Music is for ears to hear, for the world to enjoy. What point was there to keeping music hidden behind four walls? To hide away the sound of their instruments is an affront to the very reason those instruments were made in the first place. 

He moved into this apartment complex for a very different reason than she did - and she understood that he too, in his own ways that she could not yet fully understand, had his own troubles which kept him from reaching the heights in which he, and his family had aspired him to be. 

But the notoriety behind the difficulty of the pieces he plays has never once made his bow once falter, nor has it ever put him off the idea of even trying. Certainly, there were aspects of his playing to critique... but his determination and confidence alone makes him more of a capable musician than she is - something she both deeply envied and admired. 

Would that she could even possess half the amount of talent as he- she’d constantly tell herself, and it was a thought that possessed her even as she hung her head in defeat, trudging to the piano that sat in the middle of the living room before sitting herself down on the cushioned bench, the dent in the corner of the wood still visible from their first meeting when she’d knocked it over onto its side from panic. 

Violet eyes glance down at the black and white keys with a gulp - her greatest friend in her darkest times of sorrow... yet also the cause of many of her biggest regrets and worries in life. 

She stalls for a moment to pick her train of hair up from the floor and let it unravel gently behind her on the bench, her cotton slippers kicked aside to place her feet upon the pedals that were propped up by a well used extender - a necessity due to her short stature. 

With stiff, slightly shaky fingers that now laid delicately upon the surface of the piano keys, Illya sharply inhales, and forces herself to quiet the raging thoughts of potential failure and humiliation as she presses down to play the first notes. 

Alphinaud stands behind her by the window, quiet so as to not disturb the girl... but even with his considerate silence, Illya could not help but be acutely aware of his eyes staring holes into the back of her head. She could only begin to imagine what he was thinking - and while she’s befriended him long enough to know he was a man who was above ridicule, she still hated to disappoint - especially the first person who has heard her play the piano for the first time in years. 

A symphony fills the apartment, bright as the rays of sunlight that shone through the window, making Illya’s starspun hair appear to glow like a halo. Like little bells, the piano sings out a melody that is as light as the air. It sounds easy on the ears, gentle and kind as the timid pianist who was weaving this piece into being with her fingers. 

And that was the problem.

Rachmaninoff composed Piano Concerto No 2 during some of the darkest moments of his life - the piece that would go on to save his career as a floundering, helpless musician had been written from the very pits of his own despair - a song of tragedy and sorrow that tells of a struggling pianist and composer who feared to lose the very thing that gave his life meaning; something many other aspiring musicians would surely understand... something Illya herself knew all too well.

And yet when Alphinaud listened to the piece being played, it conveyed none of that sadness, none of the essence of what made Concerto No 2 become such an iconic classical piece in history. 

Illya played without fault - that much he is certain. She’s taking great care to play the right notes, attentive to her own pace that would be fitting were a choir of violins and cellos playing after her tune. But he can tell, even without looking upon the tense, rigid scowl upon her face that she was focusing too much on the technicalities that she’s lost all of what made him so captivated with her playing before - a mistake that he himself has been criticized for countless times. 

Father has chided him for that before - praised him for being a genius and young violin paragon both while at the same time admonishing his lack of improvement even after three years of performing professionally - three years of the same critique that would come back to haunt him over and over again.

Music was more than playing perfectly - it was about the inflections, the subtleties in the way one moves their finger across the piano keys, or the way one draws a violin bow... The emotions that would stir one’s heart in a way only music would be able to convey and can never be properly emulated with computerized digital sound. 

When Alphinaud closed his eyes, he did not hear the disquiet of a child’s heart as he heard the echoes of church bells ringing on a Sunday morning... but, just as it is - a nervous pianist who was pressing keys because she was told to, because she is doubting herself. 

“Illya.” he calls her name, softly so as to not startle... but more importantly, to convey that he wasn’t mad, disappointed or upset with her - as she is wont to often assume. 

The piano stops abruptly, and the girl turns to look at him, her piercing stardust hued eyes shimmering with a glossy layer of worry - it suits her less than the rare blossoms of joy that sprouted in her eyes whenever she seemed to genuinely be enjoying his company.

“Y-Yes?” 

The young man pauses for a moment to casually stroll up beside her, before gesturing for the lady to move. Though confused, she scoots over to her right to allow him space on the bench, questioning expression apparent on her face about his intent.

When he sits, the close proximity between them brings him warmth, and he feels the corners of his lips instinctively pull into a gentle smile.

“I’m sorry, you must have been caught off guard with such an unreasonable request from me.” He apologizes before quickly holding up his hand when he sees the young lady’s lips part in an impulsive need to protest.. but it is quickly lowered when she draws back into herself and swallows her retort. “Maybe... a little warm up would be better before we move on to such a challenging piece.”

His slender fingers stretch, the pad of his index finger resting gently upon a D key, but not pressing down. 

Alphinaud has only the basic understanding of how a piano is played... and he has in the past tried to expand his musical repertoire to cover the undisputedly most popular classical instrument of all time, but he regrettably never quite got the time or chance to. But he is aware of a routine piano players would use to practice, not too dissimilar to the way violinists would warm up as well.

“May we perhaps practice scales? Just for a little while?”

The humility in his tone with his request compared to before doesn’t escape Illya’s notice, but she refrains from commenting on it as her eyes widen up at him.

“Um... s-sure.”

The hesitation in her response is only natural - after all he’d just challenged her to play a difficult piece of piano concerto only to reduce their practice down to repetitive scales - something even the most amateur of players could easily do. 

Perhaps he’d felt a tad sorry for his earlier forwardness and the not so subtle way he’d intimidated her into playing something she was clearly not completely comfortable performing for him.. and the only way he knew how to make amends was to correct the damage of his own transgression’s doing. 

Getting Illya to relax was important - not just for her music but for the sake of herself as well. If her Rapunzel length hair, lack of fresh foods in her pantry and well worn and weathered pink camise was any indication, the girl wasn’t the best at taking care of her own wellbeing in her pursuit for musical perfection. 

Illya’s shoulder is still relatively stiff as she begins to play, though not nearly as much as they were before while she was playing the concerto. Her fingers effortlessly glide across the keyboard to play an ascension of notes before moving back down. 

By the third repeat, she’s begun relaxing considerably and picking up speed, and her hands were moving with a practiced, ethereal fluidity that was akin to waves of the ocean... as were the sound of the notes being played - reminding Alphinaud of the push and pull of the tides upon a sandy shoreline. 

She transitions from C major to C minor, weaving in the scales of D-flat major and minor before the scales moves further and further up in pitch, so seamlessly that anyone who isn’t familiar with notes in the slightest would have trouble even realizing the switch in scales until she’s reached F major. 

In the face of something that comes naturally to Illya, she is at ease... and the piano is once more harmonizing in tune with her love for the instrument. 

It’s a not so subtle way of giving her a confidence boost, but Alphinaud claps as she finishes the B minor scale with a flick of her arms - and though her confusion is still apparent, he can tell just from the adorable tilt of her head that she’s relaxed now.

“Wonderful, Illya... It’s clear as crystal with the way you played how seasoned you are. I’d dare say you’re quite a prodigy yourself.”

Having a lofty title thrust onto her so suddenly without warning burns her cheeks a bright shade of red, and the girl is quick to shake her head.

“I-I... I appreciate it, Alphinaud... But I know you’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Be that as it may...” He retorts before leaning forward to close the distance between them, his blue eyes swirling with a sincerity that begins to mirror in Illya’s bejeweled ones. “My praises are always truthful and well deserved. You’re a wonderful pianist, Illya.”

Something compels Alphinaud to continue speaking. Perhaps it was the twinkling of Illya’s eyes that held the radiantly clear reflection of himself within... or the dust of pink speckled upon her cheeks and across the width of her little button nose and pointed ears... or maybe it was the soft sound of air being inhaled through her barely parted lips - glossy, pink and befittingly cute for a woman of such beauty. But he deigns to open up his heart and speak his mind freely- he finds himself being able to do so more easily towards her than any other person for some reason.

“Besides... It was because of my own selfish desire to be able to hear you play that I offered to be your tutor. Being able to be by your side here like this and watch you play alone is an honor I would always treasure. So you needn’t be so afraid of playing how you wish to with me.”

When Alphinaud leans back, he finds the delightful cherry pink shade upon Illya’s face to have darkened, and her flustered quivering of her lips as him self-reflecting upon his own statement which causes him to dart his head to the side in an attempt to hide his own blooming blush.

Not that it’d be noticed by Illya in the first place, as she tilts her head down to hide her thoroughly embarrassed expression beneath the shadows of her white bangs. 

“I-I’m sorry. Maybe I said too much.” 

Illya doesn’t respond, and the young man is almost thankful she doesn’t... because he’s determined to force himself to recover and continue on with their practice.

Clearing his throat unabashedly, his head turns slowly back to look at the girl beside him.

“Well. Shall we continue? I could pick out an easier piece for you to try, this time.”

She nods, as halfheartedly as she did earlier when he’d asked her to perform  Rachmaninoff’s piece for him. And though her playing of Mozart was even more shaky, off-pace and lacking in original intent as it did with Piano Concerto No 2 before... Alphinaud could only acknowledge her efforts with an apologetic and bashful smile on his part... for the deep red flush upon Illya’s face never once dissipates during her performance. 

Nor does the trembling of her fingers - which, if nothing else, conveys the pounding of her racing heart more than clearly and loudly for him to hear. 

[whitherliliesbloom]

when the light blinds

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #17 - destruct ]

[ alphinaud/wol ] ★ [ 1,270 words ]  ★ [ major shb spoilers ] 

destruct- the process of destroying something

when the light in her shines so brightly that the stars in her eyes have been blinded completely, alphinaud feared that he’d forever lose that which served as his beacon of hope during his darkest moments

“Alphinaud... Alphinaud...” Her voice sounds paper thin - still soft and light like air but lacking in the melodic chime that always reminded him of songbirds. Silence hangs in the air, palpable and dripping with dread, and the girl in her arms lets out a throaty whimper. 

Though he feared that she would hear the sorrow in his voice if he spoke, intuitive and so attentive of his state of mind more than she even cared for her own as she typically is... He forces himself to part his chapped, painfully pale lips. 

“It’s alright, you’ll be alright.” His vocal chords tremble as he murmurs out words of reassurances in her ear. He knows those words were more for himself than her. “We’re almost there, Illya.” 

Illya doesn’t respond, merely rolls her head to rest against his shoulders as she lets out yet another pained whine. 

The sickeningly bright glow of her long starspun hair is whispy and light, tickling his finger yet also unpleasantly noticeable in his peripheral vision. As he carried her through the long ascending corridors of the Pendants, internally cursing the distance away he had to trek to get to her suite, Alphinaud forces himself to not look at the woman in his arms - terrified beyond words that bile would rise up his gullet once more if he were to see the extent of her light poisoning. 

Already bright hair or woven starlight now blinding and uncomfortably radiant... her fair complexion a sickly pale, with any and all color draining from her face as she had fallen to the ground. 

And above all else, her eyes... Thaliak take him, he could not bear to look into her eyes. 

When he’d finally reached the suite on the top floor of the Pendants, he unceremoniously kicks the door behind him with a loud bang before making a beeline for the bed, where he gently places the girl down.

“There. You can rest now, Illya.” his hand reverently strokes her hair, biting back his urge to shed tears as he watches strands of pure,  irradiant light slip through the gaps of his fingers. He doesn’t brush her bangs away from her eyes like he normally does. 

Again, the woman fails to respond, Alphinaud doesn’t expect her to, though she pushes back against him when he attempts to hold her by the shoulders and guide her to lay back on the mattress. 

“Don’t worry, Illya.” He says, knowing his own hypocrisy. “We’ll find a way to fix this. The others have already split up to search for a cure. And Ryne was able to stop the light from spreading any further for the moment. You just have to focus on resting until we do, alright?”

He thought her too delirious too understand or even respond, but the young man frowns when she begins shaking her head lethargically. 

“If...If I had just been stronger....” Past deathly white lips, she whispers... and Alphinaud cannot tell if she had been speaking to him in particular or if she was simply incoherently expressing her own thoughts while her senses are still dulled. “If I were..... then... G’raha wouldn’t... and Emet...”

Alphinaud grits his teeth, almost grinding them as his hands clench into tight fists... But his frustrations and rage were not targeted at her - he would never even begin to think of placing any blame or fault on her. 

His anger was for Emet-Selch... and though Alisaie had certainly been more vocal in her disapproval for the exarch’s methods, Alphinaud too bore a certain amount of resentment towards the man for the state Illya was in now.... though he knew that he was simply too lost in his own panic and shaken state of mind to think objectively. 

How could he when the love of his life was literally bleeding light?

And above all else, he held the most anger towards himself. For his own powerlessness and inability to ease her pain - let alone relieve her of it. 

If he were more than he was born to be- if only he possessed the echo like she did... and if only he had been stronger. Then maybe he could take the light in her state - but even then, he knew deep down it would serve to help nobody. 

The moment he saw her fall to her knees and vomit light from her lips, he knew that were it anybody else who had been absorbing the sheer amount of light that Illya had been - they would have turned into a sin eater then and there. 

Illya has always been an aetheric reservoir - her ability to absorb and hold the amount of aether she does is second to none... and it was from that fact alone that she was as powerful of a mage and warrior as she is - not even taking into account her echo and the strength of her character alone. 

The crystal exarch knew this - and thus had burdened Illya with the duty of bearing the light of the wardens she’d slain onto herself. 

But even she has her limits - and the corrupting effect of the light-aspected energy swirling and festering within her was bound to eat away at her own lifeforce sooner or later... It already has, and it’s reduced Illya into a volatile state where the strength of her aetheric manipulation and conservation has now backfired and is on the verge of self-destructing. 

It was exactly because Illya has been too strong - has ever been a hero to the realm who served  and slayed with no recompense. Because she has ever been the brightest star of this realm and beyond that others would ever turn to for hope and salvation - that they might place too much of their wishes upon her lonesome to shoulder. 

The world was ever in need of saving by the warrior of light and the warrior of darkness... But who will save her?

He allows himself only a moment for his mind to fester in the injustice of it all, until he hears his name being whispered in her voice again.

“Alphy...” 

The lonely heroine looks up, and Alphinaud’s chest clenches painfully when he meets her gaze. 

Fields of blossoming lavender and violets that danced across a field of baby blue skies... a dazzling jewel that reflected the light of the sun on a gleaming midsummer afternoon... and an ardent twilight that glowed meteoric stars in the dark of the night. 

Illya’s eyes have always been one of the most beautiful facets of her appearance.... and yet now, staring back at him was a pair of lifeless eyes - burning so bright and white that it blinded him from the colors of hope he’s come to associate with her.

“Hurts...” The girl whimpers, and with what little of her strength she could manage left she lifts her trembling arms up towards him. “Hurts... that I can’t do anything.”

His arms enclose around her, and Alphinaud pulls his darling starlight into his arms in a tender embrace as he shakes against her, unable to retain his composure now. 

“I know. I know, Illya. I’m sorry.” 

As he feels the girl’s body slowly growing limp against his own, the everlasting light from the crystalline sky shines incandescently through the window and into the room. His back warms from the light, and he shifts to shield her away from the beams. 

And though Alphinaud would not have known, a shadowed figure stands a distance away, his face solemn and melancholic even as he turns to leave through the unopened doors. 

[whitherliliesbloom]

lights, camera, duty commenced!

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #14 - commend ]

[ illya, g’raha & emet ] ★ [ 2,263 words ]  ★ [ actors au ]  passing mention of some friend’s ocs and illyanaud

commend: praise formally or officially

behind the scenes of the critically acclaimed long running tv show, final fantasy fourteen, g’raha tia is (almost) inconsolable after he reads the final act’s script

The not-so everlasting light shining down feels radiant and warm, but not scorching. In the distance, one can hear the push and pull of the tides from the nearby lake, as well as the rustling of the purple hued leaves that hung and swayed ever so gently upon the trees. A light baby blue canvas with dusty cotton candy clouds crowns lakeland, painting the perfect, serene vista for an uneventful day of shooting.

Though, Illya has to remind herself, as she looks up at the peaceful sky, and sighs in contentment that she was in the completely wrong headspace. Even though the sky above was bright and undoubtedly beautiful on this fine afternoon, she knows that all it takes is for a little bit of compuer-generated television effects magic to turn the tranquil landscape into a scene of naught but utter devastation and war.

Think termination. Think termination. You’re in the middle of a large-scale battle between Elidibus and the people of Norvrandt. The tone’s supposed to be somber and tense. You’re the warrior of darkness. You got this!

“Oh.... How could this be...?”

Her train of thought is rudely interrupted by the sorrowful moping of her co-actor, and she has to resist the urge to chide him for dragging his early morning sulking all the way into the afternoon. 

“G’raha, please...” the lalafellin sighs, though cannot help but to let a sliver of sympathy slip into her tone. “The next scene’s starting soon.”

“I know, I know... But...” the man heaves a heavy sigh, hanging his head low and letting his arms drop onto his lap so dramatically she’d almost thought that his flesh really was made of crystal and wasn’t just a product of the hard work of extremely talented make-up artists. “I can’t help it. I can’t believe that my poor crystal exarch is-”

Illya can say she at least empathizes - though perhaps not to the same extent. She’s been casted into roles of characters who would meet an unfortunate demise later, but to be fair, they weren’t often major characters within the narrative of the show or film she was playing a role in. 

The crystal exarch on the other hand, has played a key role as one of the many recurring supporting casts in the show. He’d lingered in the background as early as the first season, and was, to G’raha’s jubilation, finally given a main role in the fourth season they were filming. 

Only to be killed off in the final act - succumbing to the crystallization of his entire body, from head to toe, in the throne room of the crystal tower after the warrior of darkness’ battle with the ascian Elidibus. His death scene was to be an emotionally poignant one... and Illya herself has spent the last few days getting into the headspace of the protagonist - who would understandably be utterly devastated by the loss of a dear friend. 

It didn’t help that the crystal exarch was a considerably popular character within the international community of fans - and his significant increase in screen time was due in part to fan demands... though that perhaps made his long foreshadowed death even more of a cruel irony. 

And there was nobody in the world who was a bigger fan of the crystal exarch than the actor who played him himself. It wasn’t narcissistic either, in their line of work, it’s easy to get attached to the roles they play... even more so when they’ve hovered within the headspace of their character for as long as 6 years - she would know, Liliya Liya is as big a part of her as the crystal exarch is for G’raha now.

Thus, though she felt the urgent need to get G’raha back up on his feet in preparation for the remaining scenes on their schedule to film... she could not bring herself to so callously talk down his very real and personal attachment of a character he was meant to portray well anyways. 

“Oh come now... you should’ve seen this coming.” with a swagger in his step and lazy grin plastered over his expression, Emet Selch strolls over to the pair.... far too comfortable within his own role that he was speaking with Hades’ signature slur in his speech even while out of character. The man has always noted just how similar he was to the god of the underworld, and Illya wouldn’t be surprised if he’d claimed to not even be acting in his scenes at all.

“I...” G’raha pouts, looking up at Emet as his ears flatten atop his head. “I guess I was in denial of it. I thought they would maybe subvert expectations... but-”

“But that wouldn’t be a very compelling story to tell, now would it?” The older man shrugs, and Illya regrets to think that she’s inclined to agree. 

“I guess not..” 

The robed miqo’te man sighs, and she notes with an amused raise of an eyebrow as his tail that had once been tucked tightly to his side was now swiveling from side to side and puffed up in annoyance.

“Still! They could at least let him go out with more of a bang! Maybe... after he has a solo action scene... or give him a kiss scene to make things more dramatic!”

“Is defeating the big bad and saving the heroine not dramatic enough for you, already?” Emet’s voice is in part mocking as it is exasperated, his arms thrown up to his shoulders in a shrug. “Also I hope you didn’t mean a kiss scene with Liliya.”

“W-what-?? I-” Illya’s mouth hangs agape. 

“No! I wasn’t thinking anyone in particular, honest. Besides, she’s already caught in that love triangle subplot with the twins, isn’t she?” 

At the mention of the topic, the lalafellin woman’s smile fades.

“D-don’t remind me of that. I’m really not looking forward to acting those scenes out.” 

She’s already read the script for the fourth season in it’s entirety... and though she has incredible respect for the masterful writing and the wonderful character dynamics that has only gotten better with each passing season... she has never been... entirely comfortable with the romantic aspects of the scenes involving the elven twins. Scenes of the pair vying for her attention, scenes where she held hands and even got unsettingly close to kissing them... 

Though, she will admit... her own uncertainty over her competence in filming those scenes are a result of her own, very personal emotions... something of which Emet Selch seemed to be more than aware of.

“Is it not because you harbor actual feelings for one of them? Would having scenes of you being close to him not be a blessing for you, then?”

The miffed glare Illya’s shoots up at Emet rivals moments of shadow possession Liliya experiences throughout the show, and he can only shrug with a cocky grin as her star-spangled swirl with indignation. Anger aside, heat is spreading across her cheeks in the form of a burning red hue that reaches the tips of her short, pointed ears.

Please stop. 

Her expression spells out. She’s as annoyed as she her frightened about something.

Oh dear. 

“Relax. Workplace romance here is nothing new.” His words only serve to worsen the already infuriated gleam in her blazing, shimmering eyes. “Mint certainly isn’t shy when it comes to showing she’s in a relationship with Estinien. Nor your friend Laurelis for that matter. She’s still keeping in touch with Haurchefant, no?”

Illya doesn’t say anything, but her silence and the paling of her complexion speaks louder than any words she can spill from her lips. 

It’s precisely because he doesn’t know. So please, please shut your mouth.

He still cannot understand why on earth she would stay so adamant about keeping her feelings a secret anyway. For all he knows, the entire cast of actors... and the whole final fantasy crew for that matter, was fully aware of their pining - and Illya’s feelings towards her close co-worker and friend wasn’t unrequited either. 

Just like in the show, the pair are completely oblivious to their attraction to one another... something he’ll just have to fix with his bare hands then... 

But the matter is neither here nor there, and there was something of greater urgency to rectify now. 

Emet Selch turns his gaze back down to G’raha, who has gone uncharacteristically quiet... and sensing his seriousness, Illya too diverts her attention back to the sulking redhead. 

“You know... you’re a very talented actor. It’s so very rare to find someone who can capture the emotions and nuances of a character as well as you do.” Emet is the faster of them to speak, and Illya can barely believe the words she’s hearing leave his lips. 

Compliments and praise, genuine ones at that, coming from one of the cast’s eldest, most experienced actor who is not only known to be critical when it comes to the art of acting - but is a certified acting coach himself? The monumental honor is not lost to G’raha, as his ears perk up and he whips his head up with widened ruby eyes to look at Emet.

“Death is difficult to portray - dare I say, almost impossible. After all, how can we, who have never experienced death... truly capture the sorrow and despair in it?”

Emet Selch pauses, drawing in a breath before he lifts his hand up to gesture at the pair before him.

“Which is why this is your biggest opportunity to showcase your talents, to move the audience with not just the story, but your very acting! The only thing we can do, as men and women of this field, is to act as vehicles and carry the emotions of the story into the hearts of the fans.”

The man finally sighs, shoulders falling and arms flopping lazily to his side, the sentimentality of the words he just spoke tasting bitter on his tongue.

“Besides, even in death there is a beauty. The crystal exarch lived his life fulfilled and having realized his wish at the end. I expect you to remember that when you eventually see him off.”

There’s a silence that hangs and festers in the air for a moment, before the fur on G’raha’s tail stands and his chest puffs up in a show of renewed determination.

“Y-you’re right, Emet! The crystal exarch dedicated his life to finding a way to save others... There is no better way to end his legacy than to see the world he’s protected for so long finally saved!” 

Standing onto his feet, the miqo’te clenches his hands into fists and nods before casting a glance down at Illya.

“Illya! I will act my heart out to the best I can! I’ll act so hard that I’ll make you cry on set for sure!”

The corners of her lip tugs upwards into a wide smile, glowing as the afternoon sun basks down and reflects upon her snowy white hair and the blossoms of her amethyst eyes. Even with the black of the garments she wore and the eastern patterned ribbon that held the braid around her head in place, she was luminous and blinding in her radiant presence... not unlike the heroine of their story.

“Of course! And I’m sure the rest of the crystal exarch fan club will too when they watch that episode.” 

“Illya, G’raha!” A pink haired lalafellin calls out to them from a distance away, her olive green eyes wide and excited as she waves her hands high above her head. A raven haired man stands just behind her, his dark blue eyes narrowed as he reviews the script in his hands intently. “We’re starting soon! Get over here!”

“Coming! Just give us a second!” G’raha waves back with a grin before turning back to look at Emet Selch with an apologetic, yet grateful bow, his relaxed tail swaying gently from side to side behind his back. 

“Thank you, Emet. I won’t soon forget your encouragements. I’ll do my best and make sure to not let everyone down.”

“Yes, yes. Spare me the nauseating mush. I was just making sure you didn’t drag your co-actor down with your sulking.” 

The elder man now glances at the starry eyed girl with amusement flashing through his expression, and Illya can already feel her earlier lighthearted elation fade as quickly as it came. 

“By the way... I’m sure if you asked Yoshida properly.. he’d be willing to consider writing in a kiss scene with Liliya and-”

“If I were the warrior of darkness, I’d take my crescent moon cane and stab you with the end of it......”

------

Meanwhile, a little distance away from the trio, Kaye lets out a low hum as he reads and re-reads the words upon the small stacks of paper he held, expression doubtful and confused.

“You sure this is the script to Endwalker?”

“Yeah, I am! Alphinaud gave this copy and said that he got from miss Ishikawa directly! Apparently he’s playing another major role in the next season, which is why he got the script early as a heads up.”

“But... it says here that the crystal exarch gets reincarnated? Assuming that’s not gonna be changed... that means G’raha’s gonna be...”

Kaye’s head lifts and turns, eyes wide and brows furrowing in bemusement only to see an impish smile glimmer upon Lily’s face.

“Should we tell him?”

“Hm...? Nah... He’s gonna film the exarch’s death scene soon, right? I’m sure he’ll appreciate the little surprise later, anyways.”

[whitherliliesbloom]

sweetened tea and midnight ink

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #8 - adroit ]

[ alphinaud/wol ] ★ [ 1,022 words ]  ★ [ post-canon ]

adroit- clever or skilful

there’s an art to deflection, one alphinaud thought it has fully mastered. unfortunately, his wife is even better at seeing through lies.

When the door to his office breaks the long, cold silence in the air with it’s soft creak, the man had been so lost in his focus that he’d failed to hear it - or the feather light footsteps that crossed the room towards the desk for that matter. 

It isn’t until he smells the sweet floral scent of chrysanthemum tea wafting into his nostrils that he lifts his feathered quill from his parchment and looks up, lips curling into a gentle smile as he looked at the oddly blurred array of snow white, blossom pinks and rich lavender purple. Had he truly been squinting so hard that his eyes couldn’t even focus on the love of his life now?

“Dearest.” 

He greets, and he resists the urge to rub his eyes or blink frantically to hide the tiredness of his eyes... but knowing who he was speaking to, that perhaps was a futile endeavor.

“Darling.” with a gentle nod she greets back softly, stepping up onto the lalafellin stool at the side of the desk to place the tea cup and saucer delicately onto the cluttered desk, parchment, tomes and documents scattered out so disorderly that the words upon that were turning into a blur. 

Alphinaud can already tell by the way Illya lingers by his side, leaning over and pressing her hands against the table that she’s paid him a visit during his hours of work for more reasons than to refill his tea... and he can make an educated guess, based on the choice of tea leaf.

“Chrysanthemum?” he asks, as if to confirm his suspicions while he sets his quill down to hook his index finger around the handle, lifting the cup up to his parched lips. The knowing smile that graces her face is all the answer he needs. 

“Ju Hua, yes.” her second language rolls off her tongue naturally, sweetly - sweeter than the tea he took a sip of. “I know it’s not your favorite...but...”

The young man cannot help the chuckle that leaves his lips, or the heavy exhale from his nose as he sets the tea back down onto the saucer. 

“Now I wonder why you would choose that, then?” 

Sarcasm laced tone evident, he knows that she knows that it’s a rhetorical question. The pair of them are several years past the point of trivial misunderstandings. The shimmer in her eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight is a dead giveaway as to the exasperation she feels towards his answer - or lack thereof. 

“Why indeed.”

Even though he knows better than to think he’d be able to get away with it - Alphinaud attempts to hide his fatigue by straightening himself up against the backrest of his chair, adjusting the frames of his reading glasses to rest higher upon the bridge of his nose. 

He moves to reach for his quill, only for him to catch the pout upon his wife’s face.

“You must be tired, sweet pea.” Her voice is equal parts chiding as she is concerned, and it shakes his already unsteady heart up more than it rightfully should.

“I’m alright, dearest. I still have plenty of energy to spare.” It’s a blatant lie through his teeth, one that he wouldn’t dare hope that Illya would believe... but perhaps she would trust him enough to know his own limits and leave him to his devices regardless. 

“It’s 2 in the morning, Alphy.” He recognizes the slight dip in pitch in her voice, and he averts his gaze from hers to look down at his half-written report. “You’ve been working on this for over 7 hours... You need to rest. The report will be fine unattended until morning.”

“And it won’t write itself, love. I’ll be okay.” 

His insistence is met with even more resistance, and he feels the gentle cradle of her hand against his own.

He knows full well her tactics, and refuses to look into her eyes even as he is forced to turn his head up. If lying won’t convince her then perhaps deflection will.

“Anyways, are you not awake too? I’m sure after a whole day of putting up with E’lija and Sigfred’s bickering, running errands around Revenant’s Toll and taking an emergency commission from Redolent Rose, you must be more exhausted than I am.” 

Alphinaud would like to think he’s gotten better at the art of deflection - at least better than he’d been back during the long passed years of the since ended Dragonsong war. Krile would most undoubtedly begin teasing him for it, but it’s an art he’s mastered well enough to navigate his way through talks and debates with experienced political figures, nation leaders and bullheaded adventurers - some of whom decades older than himself.

But with the gift of self-awareness and a now humbled outlook upon himself, came the added guilt of deceiving people that he cared for. 

He was an exceptional, charismatic speaker and diplomat... Which made Illya’s own extraordinary intuition and ability to understand the hearts and intentions of others keenly a perfect compliment and foil both for him.

And even if she wasn’t- she was the woman he’s swore to spend the rest of eternity with... and it was she, above others who would come to understand and pick him back up onto his feet when it felt like the world had crashed down around him. Illya knows him inside out - better than he even knows himself, sometimes.

“Alphy.” She calls him and pauses, forcing him to finally look up and meet the glowing ardent violet of her eyes. “Please? If you won’t sleep then... at least rest for a while.”

His shoulders drop, utterly defeated and he finally lets out a sigh and a nod, curling his fingers around her own.

“If that would please you.” 

“It would. Now come on, let’s go to the guest bedroom. Ours is too far.”

Rising from the desk, Alphinaud allows the lalafellin woman to pull him along by the hand, her footsteps quick and eager as they leave the office and the half-drunk cup of sweetened tea and inkwell behind. 

[whitherliliesbloom]

to the moon and back

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #31 - nocturne ]

[ alphinaud/wol ] ★ [ 1,000 words ]  ★ [ pre-endwalker ]

nocturne- a short composition of a romantic nature or a picture of a night scene, both apply here. 

“what do we have to fear? after all, we’ve come this far.”

Against a starlit sky, her hair glows incandescently like the milky way, carried into the breeze as it flutters like a wedding veil draped over her fair, ethereal features. The crescent moon earring she wore glistens lightly from the rays of radiant moonlight, only second in it’s luster next to the sparkle of violet, pink and blue blossoms twinkling in her eyes.

And as he lifts her high into the air and twirls them around in a dizzying circle in time with the soft piano keys, he hears the lady let out a barely audible songbird giggle that stirs the very depths of his heart.

Crickets chirp in the distance, and it mingles with the sound of flowing water from the nearby lake, ambient and calm beneath the orchestrion music that directed the young elezen man to take another step forward, marveling in the dust of pink upon the face of the girl in his arms.

For a long while, neither of them speak, choosing instead to indulge in the tranquility of the evening, with a full moon cast upon them like a spotlight, and the singing of the night wind like a nocturne - a stage for they and they alone. 

But the warrior of light and darkness, the keeper of the sun, saver of the moon and shepherd of the stars deigns to speak first, gently brushing the tips of her fingers against his cheeks.

“What are you thinking about?” Illya asks, her voice almost a whisper, but he hears her loud and clear with their proximity. 

“The usual.” Alphinaud answers with honesty, the thought of lying to her never once crossing his mind. “About the future. About how I should go from here...” He pauses, shaking his head before correcting himself. “About how we should go from here.” 

She lets out a sigh, light and airy as cotton in his ears even with the exasperation and melancholy that briefly flashes in her bright eyes.

“I would hope you’d keep your worries about such matters at home especially when we’re on a date.” 

“Ah- Are you.. upset-? I’m sorry.”

He’s quick to apologize, drawing the girl closer to him as his arm lowers, but he exhales softly in relief when Illya merely shakes her head with a smile, running the palms of her hands along his shoulders and down to his chest as she nudges her face into the warm crook of his neck.

“I’m not. It’s simply in your nature...” -to overthink... she nearly says, but the words don’t come out, and she lets out yet another light laugh. “And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little bit guilty of worrying too much either.” 

It’d be strange not to- especially with all that has happened lately. 

The lunar towers still stood tall and imposing throughout Hydaelyn, Fendaniel’s threats loomed over their hearts, the man who had dared to once call himself Alphinaud and Alisaie’s father still haunted the wrathful side of Illya’s consciousness and Arenvald’s words still echoed loudly, deafeningly in their ears. 

For every heroic deed they accomplish, there will always be trouble brewing in the distance, waiting for people of their kind to rise up and go through the motions of the fight again. And with every life they save, there will always be countless others who would inevitably be sacrificed, countless lost so that the dreams of the ones who survive would live on.

To serve, to save, to slave, to slay. Such is the way of heroes, such is the way of the righteous who could never hope for rest. Such is the way for the two of them - whose blood courses with ideals to better the world, to help others see a brighter tomorrow. It is in her nature, in their nature to struggle until the very end. 

She has long learned to accept that the path she’s chosen will likely be endless, that she will have to fight and fight until she draws her last breath for a future of peace and prosperity - for a future she may not even see. And while uncertainty, fear and trepidation will ever linger in her heart, she no longer regrets the choices she has made, the path she took.

For as long as she had Alphinaud by her side, she’d find in herself the strength to stand tall against a bleak and uncertain future, no matter how hopeless all seems to be. 

Illya lifts her head up, wrapping her arms around his neck as she whispers into his ear, feeling his fingers thread through her pure white silken locks.

“You’ll stay with me, won’t you? No matter what happens from now on.”

As the man tightens his hold around her waist before lifting her high up into the air once more, the beams of moonlight reflect upon Illya’s head like a glowing halo, and the wide, confident smile he wears upon his face is mirrored upon her own. He nudges his nose against hers, feeling the heat of her breath tickle his skin, warming his heart with an undying love that he was sure will not soon fade.

Illya is as the full moon that shines over their heads, as intimidating, watchful and strong as is she is beautiful, and his mind momentarily flashes back to the past - to the fool that he was before for not having realized it sooner... both in this life and the last.

But if he made his musings known to the hero, he was certain she would timidly chide him. 

After all, what did the past matter if they’ve already gotten this far together?

“For all eternity. I promise.” It is promise he should have made ages ago, now spoken into existence and words he will never dream of taking back, his eyes shut, and he closes the distance between their lips. 

“After all, you are my hope. If I had you by my side, I have nothing to fear.”

[whitherliliesbloom]

towards a tomorrow

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #28 - bow ]

[ illya & kirishimi ] ★ [ 2,062 words ]  ★ [ period drama au ]

for matchi’s period drama au. briefly mentions illyanaud, laurelis and kaye. 

bow-  to bend your head or body forward, especially as a way of showing someone respect or expressing thanks 

kirishimi didn’t care for frilly dresses or etiquette unless it was to make a statement - so she gets lessons from the most ladylike friend she knows

“Gods, shite! How do people breath in this stupid thing?!” 

Amongst the light breeze of the midafternoon wind, the melodic chirping of the songbirds and the sound of water splashing freely from the white marble fountain, Kirishimi’s less than ladylike words pierce through the air as she puffs her chest in with a low grumble and is followed by the soft and gentle bell-like chimes of a younger girl’s giggles a few feet next to her.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think the corset can be loosened any further, I made it as loose as I could for you already.”

“Can I just take it off then?” Kirishimi asks, hopeful even as the shorter lalafellin girl shakes her head calmly with am apologetic frown, her vibrant violent eyes swirling with sympathy.

“I wish you could but... Laurelis designed the dress with your corset in mind.. It just wouldn’t fit if you didn’t-”

“Shite.”

Yet another swear tumbles carelessly out of Kirishimi’s lips, and Illya lets out a soft, barely audible sigh before flashing her taller friend yet another gentle smile.

“How about a short break then? I think you’ll feel a little better if you take a breather.”

“Yes please!”

Without even a seconds’ hesitation, Kirishimi grabs the frame of the hoop skirt beneath her bright orange dress with her hands and marches to the gazebo before slumping down onto the white garden chair and kicking her matching pair of high heels off. She leans down to massage the soles of her feet with a grimace, feeling light indents where the rim of the heels had dug into her feet and wondering if there was going to be blisters forming under her hosiery by the end of the day.

In contrast to the almost unruly way she’d retreated under the shade of the white and purple gazebo, Illya in comparison was the very picture of elegance. With only the tips of her thumb and index finger, the young lady lifts the hem of her frilly lavender dress before climbing the steps up to the gazebo. Despite wearing lacey embroidered heels that seemed like they were even more of a pain to wear than her own, Illya’s balance was perfect, each footstep graceful and deliberate so much that Kirishimi could barely even hear the little tap of her heels against the floor. 

Even the way she sat upon the chair, taking her time to tuck her dress beneath her thighs before sitting herself down and folding her hands neatly upon her lap - it wouldn’t have made Kirishimi felt self-conscious any other time before today. But it was exactly because she was here now, for the exact same reason she’d even agreed to commission an over the top ball gown from Laurelis that she swear to never wear outside of it’s intended use, that she quickly decided to correct her posture. 

The taller woman feels out of place - as she typically does, but especially next to her considerably more demure, ladylike friend. Surrounded by the jewel toned walls of the Skawi mansion, the flawless marble tile paths that circled the garden and practically shined in the sunlight and the bed of delicate spring flowers that filled the air with a light floral fragrance, it would be hard for her not to feel even a tiny bit like a fish out of water.

“Thanks again, Illya. For agreeing to teach me.” Kirishimi opts to speak, breaking the long hanging silence as if in sheepish apology. She knows she isn’t the best student, and so the least she could do was be cooperative and nice to the girl who is graciously lending her her time and efforts. 

“You’re very welcome, Kiri.” With a radiant smile, Illya nods her head, her innocent expression bright and at home with her subtle movements of grace. The birds that sat upon the mansard roofs sing in tandem with the sweetness of Illya’s voice. “I’m honored that you would come to me for lessons about etiquette. Even if it is to...um... break the social construct.”

Mismatched eyes widen in a panic, and the older woman leans forward over the table and raises her voice a tad.

“Hey, I hope you don’t misunderstand me! There’s nothin’ wrong with being prim and proper! I’m not tryin’ to do anythin’ to disrespect you! I just-”

“I know.” Illya speaks, her brilliantly pure white hair fluttering gently in the breeze like a wavy silken veil over her head. “You’re just trying to be you. You have the courage and strength to stand up to people who would try to tell you do otherwise. I like that about you.” With yet another euphonious, soft giggle, Illya raises a hand up to press against her chest. “Besides, you wouldn’t have come to me for a favor if you truly did have malicious intent, would you? The fact that you called Laurelis and I for help means that you trust us.” 

A soft blush rises up to Kiri’s face where speckles of white snow glowed lightly from the heat from her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Her gloved hand moves up to rub the side of her neck sheepishly, and she cannot help the toothy grin that adorns her face.

“I guess you’re right.” the woman murmurs. “I also... admire you a lot, you know? You’re so sweet, and nice... a bit too nice, honestly. You don’t even get angry when idiots spout lies about you...”

Kirishimi would be lying if she said she didn’t feel an immense amount of admiration for Illya’s ability to stay as calm and collected as she does - even above the seemingly effortless way she’d conduct herself like the society’s perfect definition of a ‘lady’. 

But there wasn’t envy... it wouldn’t be warranted, especially since Kirishimi knew that behind the perfectly immaculate way Illya would hold herself as the young mistress and future heiress of her family name, came a set of troubles and insecurities that she too was struggling with. 

It’s evident by the flicker of melancholy in Illya’s eyes, like a field of delphiniums and hydrangeas that were drooping in the midst of a drizzle of rain and grey storm clouds, even with a forced, stepford smile gracing her delicate and fair features. They were lovely, beautiful even in their imperfect sadness.. but Kiri could not bring herself to feel anything but sorry at the sight of them.

“And I wish I were even half as strong as you. You’re able to stand up for what you want, for who you are... If I had a fraction of the courage that you possessed then perhaps... I could have...” The girl looks down, the silver band that she’d refused to wear hidden deep in the depths of her dress pocket weighing far more heavily than it ever did before. “I could have stopped my uncle from calling for the engagement...”

The Skawi family had well deserved respect from the capital, and with it came a reputation and image they had to uphold. And with their fame, came the inevitable greed from the current head of the family - the man Illya could barely even bring herself to think of as family, the younger brother of the long deceased patriarch, Lachlan Skawi. 

Selling himself and the name of the Skawis wouldn’t be enough for the man - and so he’d sold the dignity of his niece as well by calling for an arranged marriage.. something that Kirishimi knew would not be solved with a few simple social statements and protests. It involved the name of the Skawi family, and worse still, it involved the capital. 

Internally, Kirishimi wonders what Young Master Alphinaud intends to do. Word about mistress Skawi’s engagement to one of the members of the royal bloodlines has spread far and wide by now, and he would undoubtedly be working tirelessly for a way to stop the marriage. 

But if the combined efforts of Laurelis’ family, the Leveilleur household, Hien’s influence as a well respected foreign emissary wasn’t enough to convince Illya’s uncle to call off the engagement, what else could they hope to do?

“You’re stronger than you think you are, Illya.” Kiri reassures, her tone gentler than is usual for her, as is the light, reassuring smile upon her face. “You took the first steps to realize your own dreams, didn’t ya?” 

Kiri gestures to the carnation earring she wore that dangled lightly with gleaming white pearls, and Illya raises a hand up to brush against her ear lightly. The earring was a gift from Master Alphinaud, the man she owes much to... Her mentor, her dearest friend and...

A dust of red rises up to Illya’s cheeks and spreads to the tips of her pointed ears as she nods.

“It’s... It’s thanks to everyone... and especially Master Alphinaud that.. that I finally started to learn medicine. If it weren’t for everyone’s support, I wouldn’t have-...”

Illya holds her tongue, pressing her lips into her fine line as Kiri allows the silence to fester, until she grins at the look of renewed determination upon the young maiden’s face.

No, Kirishimi is right. She certainly may owe much to her friends and loved ones, and she wouldn’t have taken that first steps towards realizing her dream to become a doctor had she not met Alphinaud... but it took great strides of her own too, a strength and new found courage to stand up to the ones who doubted her - one that she felt determined in full to carry on for as long as she needed until her dreams are fulfilled and she can be free from her own social constructs that are weighing her down.

“Once all this is over.. could you teach me how to fence, Kiri?” Illya asks, eliciting a surprised hum from her taller friend. 

“You wanna learn how to fence?” The woman asks... not in dissuation, of course... but in mild disbelief that a girl as sweet and gentle as Illya would be interested in the sport. She’d say yes, of course, regardless of Illya’s reasons. She’d teach Illya whatever she wanted to learn especially since the girl had been kind enough to be teaching her etiquette. But she still cannot help but to be a bit curious.

“I admit I’m not the strongest or physically well built... I’ll probably be a really bad student but-”

With a wave of her hand, Kiri dismisses Illya’s words with a hearty, loud laugh that echoes throughout the garden, warm and bright in the midafternoon sun.

“You’ll be great, I guarantee it. You’re quick on your feet and I think you’re a lot more fit than you give yourself credit for.” If Illya’s ability to function without fault all way in tight corsets and high heels are anything to go by, at least. 

With a bright smile of gratitude, Illya thanks her friend warmly with a bow of her head before standing herself up from the chair, circling around the table and gesturing to the haphazardly abandoned orange heels that laid on their sides next to Kirishimi.

“Let’s continue, Kiri. We still have much to practice for the day!” Illya shrugs her shoulders when Kiri groans, slipping her feet back into her heels before reluctantly standing herself back up. “You remember what I said about the proper way to curtsy is, right?”

To demonstrate, Illya holds the sides of her dress, barely pulling the hem up from the ground and crossing her legs before dipping herself down gracefully like a ballerina... and Kiri could only let out a lazy grumble in protest.

“Can’t we rest for a little while longer? I hate this curtsying shite.”

“The faster we get this part of the lesson done, the faster we can move on to table manners.” Illya’s innocent smile is bright and radiant, belying the little hint of mischief laced under the tone of her knowing voice. “I’ve already asked for the pastries and sweet tea to be prepared, you know? Kaye should be arriving with them any second now.”

“Curtsy? Got it. Left foot behind right???” Mismatched blue and red eyes fly open, and the woman does a full curtsy that elicits yet another light and airy giggle from Illya. 

“It’s the right foot behind your left. Not too quickly, now. Let’s try that again.” 

[whitherliliesbloom]

discord-ance

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #06 - avatar ]

[ spud squad & alphinaud ] ★ [ 603 words ]  ★ [ modern au ]

avatar: an icon or figure representing a particular person in a video game, internet forum etc

alphinaud infiltrates the spud squad discord server and finds... what else, but chaos?

Alphinaud had no idea what to expect when his girlfriend of two years had mysteriously and wordlessly sent him an invite to a server named ‘Squd Squad’ with a picture of a potato with an anime face set as the server icon... but he certainly hadn’t expected to be witness to a whole lengthy list full of channels for all sorts of subject matter - and the oddly warm reception he’d be met with in the #general-chatter channel

-> Welcome, Alphinaud. We brought you pizza.

stale candycanes: HUWAT Peachy: ????? stale candycanes: WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN HERE Alphinaud: Hello? stale candycanes: hACKER ALART CALL JAYW stale candycanes: KAYE* stale candycanes: @fissionmoon Kaye: What? stale candycanes: what do you mean WHAT look for yourself Kaye: Oh Kaye: Huh Kaye: How’d you get in the server? Alphinaud: Illya invited me. Am I not supposed to be here? Kaye: She did?  Kaye: @liliyastarwis Kaye: Seems she’s offline now. I guess you can stay until she comes back and explains herself. stale candycanes: really stale candycanes: why tho :mikudoubt: Kaye: There’s no problem? If Illya wants him to be here then... I guess he can? At least wait for her to come back until we kick him. stale candycanes: okokok :kaitosigh: AutumnAnthems: Welcome @Alphinaud ^^ Alphinaud: Oh, thank you!  Peachy: welcome!! hope you enjoy your stay!  Peachy: oh btw kaye you might as well give him roles for access to the other channels Peachy: uhhh other than #dating-advice tho lol Alphinaud: What’s wrong with that channel? Peachy: :sweatprofusely: Peachy: nothing

Within seconds of user Peachy’s request, the mod of the server gives Alphinaud access to the other channels, turning his name within the chat history from white to a light blue... and he is alarmed by the sheer number of them he has to go through in order to clear his notifications. 

At least it’s all organized relatively well, he can easily hide those under the anime and video games tab that he’d be relatively uninterested in. He sees a good few text channels like #music and #art that he thinks he’d like to scour a little more thoroughly later... and a strangely named #banned channel where a lonely lalafellin boy awaited as punishment for the cursed photos he posted in #memez.

stale candycanes: hey so why is your discord username literally just your name stale candycanes: and why is your avatar literally just stale candycanes: a picture of yourself stale candycanes: ITS SO TACKY :mintcringe: Alphinaud: I use discord for school, mostly.  Alphinaud: Most of the classes I’m in have dedicated discord servers and it’s just easier for me to have a recognizable name. Alphinaud: As for my avatar... I’m not sure what other pictures I could use? Peachy: you can actually set different nicknames for yourself, at least in servers that allow it. this one does. Alphinaud: I see. Is that necessary? Kaye: Hang on, I got it. Kaye: Okay done. Illya simp: ??? What does simp mean stale candycanes: SDFNHSFHJF OH MY GODFH Peachy: OH HAHAHAHA stale candycanes: OMG I CANTHGHSGG Peachy: :kayerofl: AutumnAnthems: https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Simp Illya simp: .......Ah Illya simp: I mean Illya simp: I don’t really mind but I think I prefer my old name. Kaye: You’re picky. stale candycanes: i think it’s perfect =3c AutumnAnthems: It’s definitely fitting stale candycanes: :smugsmint: Illya simp: I’m guessing I’m going to have to put up with this for as long as I stay in the server. Kaye: You’re the one who infiltrated us so Kaye: Get used to it. Peachy: :poglily: :poglily: :poglily: Peachy: Welcome to spud squad alphy!! For now... Illya simp: ~.~

[whitherliliesbloom]

weaving the present, illuminating the future

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #30 - abstracted ]

[ illya & friends ] ★ [ 2,849 words ]  ★ [ streamers au ]

modern / streamers / online celebrities au where the spud squad are all popular streamers who frequently collab together. centers around illya and kaye mainly, but briefly mentions a bunch of other friends and illyanaud.

abstracted- withdrawn in mind, inattentive to one's surroundings

the spud squad announce their indefinite hiatus right after releasing their one year anniversary single, and illya cannot help but to feel just a tad bit melancholic.

Illya hasn’t bothered checking her notifications, or looked at either her computer screen or mobile phone, really. The sounds of ping after ping on linkcord, text after text and the flood of new tweets mentioning the one tag she followed on twitter easily made her overwhelmed - and so she’d opted to switch her devices off entirely before burying herself under the covers for the evening, trying desperately to distract herself with a copy of a manhwa that she’d borrowed from Laurelis. 

But it was futile, her head is empty and heavy, yet swirling with a myriad of many emotions all at the same time. And after feebly reading and re-reading the same page over and over only to realize she hadn’t been paying attention to the contents of the book at all, she closed the manhwa shut with a heavy sigh before closing her eyes, praying to the heavens that exhaustion would lull her quickly to sleep.

Outsiders would merely assumed she was simply nervous from the release of their newest single, Ultramarine Hymn, a collaboration between the members of their massively popular streamer group made in celebration for their one year anniversary. They’d prepared for months, working together with a widely renowned music composer and even performing live on stage with a set of professional make up artists, producers and videographers to film their first ever music video.

For everyone barring Mint, it’d been their first time ever singing and dancing for a large audience online. While the experience had been undoubtedly fun, it was still their first real exposure doing anything of such professionalism and scale- and so her flat mate Kaye wasn’t surprised at all to find her shaking like a leaf as she sat next to him on the couch just several minutes prior to the premier of the video.

While the premier of their first music video was indeed a good half of the reason why Illya felt so out of sorts and nervous for the rest of the night up until sunrise, the true reason for the melancholy she bore in her heart came from the announcement that was posted right after the release of the music video, and it’d kept her awake for a good portion of the late night until she mercifully fell asleep, clutching the lavender purple ribbon she’d worn in the music video tightly in her hands.

The spud squad was going to go on an indefinite hiatus shortly after the release of Ultramarine Hymn - a result of an eight months long business trip Kaye had been assigned on as a professional programmer. Streaming and being something of an internet celebrity was never the man’s main source of income, so it’d be unwise of him to turn down the golden opportunity to further his career in favor of staying behind to continue streaming. 

Naturally, Lily was going to move overseas with him as well - and while she has made it clear to her audience that she will continue streaming whenever she could afford the free time to, the radically different time zones between Eorzea and Doma meant it’d be difficult to participate in anymore spud squad activities - at least until she and Kaye would return.

Mint too, announced that she’d been preoccupied with practicing for auditions into several professional idol management companies... and while Illya herself isn’t as busy as the other three, juggling between helping with business at her mother’s florist, studying for an entrance exam into a medical school and streaming on top of that has become quite a hectic endeavor. 

Thus with much reluctance, the six of them came to a consensus and decided to announce their indefinite hiatus, a news that they’d hoped would sit well with their impressively large audience of fans if it came with the release of a music video to remember them by.

Illya knew that it was a necessary change of process - that new doors are being opened for each of them and it was only right for them to seize the opportunity to chase their dreams. Deep inside, Illya truly did feel overjoyed for her friends, loved them all with of her heart so much that the hiatus was but a small fraction of the cost to pay in exchange for their happiness.

But that didn’t mean there wasn’t a hint of melancholy and bitter sweetness within that earnest joy and cause for celebration. None of the six of them knew when they’d next be able to work on something like this again, or if they’d even find the time in the future to work together again at all. It was perhaps because of their shared understanding - that unspoken sadness between all of them that they’d agreed to prepare something special to celebrate one year of their collaboration - a song that spoke of hope and a brighter future. 

‘The more you give up, the more regrets await you.’

By the time the sun rose, accompanied by the shining of morning light through her pastel pink curtains and the melodic chirping of birds nesting upon the wisteria tree just outside her window, her phone has been assaulted with a mountain of unchecked notifications that she dreaded to sort through. 

The girl knew she couldn’t possibly keep her phone locked and switched off forever, and so she’d booted it up after washing up in the shared bathroom, before walking out of her bedroom, staring down at her screen with a light frown.

The smell of fried bacon wafts through the apartment. The sound of sizzling oil intermingles with Hazel’s cheery singing, and Illya takes the time to open the latch of her enclosure, allowing the little sparrow to flutter about the living room until it settled peacefully next to the potted sunflowers that sat upon the window sills of the kitchen, watching the raven haired man flipping eggs effortlessly with a flick of the frypan. 

“Good morning, Kaye. Thank you for making breakfast, again.” Greeting with an ever bright smile, Illya sits herself down at her designated seat at the dining table upon a bright floral cushion, watching as the man turns his head back for a moment before returning his attention to the stove. 

“It’s Sunday, so it’s my turn. You don’t gotta thank me.” He walks over to the dining table to dump the steaming hot sunny side ups and crispy bacon onto their plates, cups of orange juice already poured and waiting, which Illya takes into her hand to take a quick sip out of.

“You checked eorzeatube and twitter yet?” The young man asks as he sets the frypan down, gesturing towards the phone in her hands.

“N-no... Is it urgent?”

“Not really, no.” Kaye raises an eyebrow, sitting himself down and jabbing a fork into his bacon. “But aren’t you curious about how the music video did?”

“I-I am... A little, I suppose... but-” 

Her stammer gives her away her listlessness, and Kaye shoots the girl a furrowed scowl and a frown. 

“Is somethin’ botherin’ you?” The man asks, and Illya’s lips curl upwards into a wide, deceptively warm smile.

“Just nervous is all.. What if the fans didn’t like it?” it wasn’t a complete lie, though not the total truth, but Illya was always exceptionally talented at hiding her negative emotions, and Kaye seems to buy it enough to slump back against the back rest of his chair and toss the bacon into his awaiting mouth, chewing quietly and swallowing before speaking.

“You won’t know till you see for yourself.” 

It’s an unfortunate reality that he’s right, and Illya finally gives in and taps onto the icon for the twitter app, waiting for the timeline feed to load before her star spangled violet eyes widen in complete disbelief.

99+ notifications, an equally unbearable amount of private messages in her inbox as well as the first tweet literally being about the music video - Moth’ir’s retweet of their short promotional video from their official spud squad twitter account, which has garnered over 40 thousand likes and 10 thousand retweets.

#spudsquad and #ultramarinehymn are trending, and Illya gives in to her curiosity enough to tap on the tags and scroll through the tweets.

cosplaycon2022 hype!!! @/oracleoflight  • 18h  my good friend illya and her friends #spudsquad just released #ultramarine hymn and it’s so so so good!!! please give it a watch!! 

EEEEEEEEEE @/driftinintiawind  • 18h @/academician you didn’t tell me your gf was an idol bro???? GOOD SHIT #ultramarinehymn

 pink is JUSTICE @/rosepinkcutie  • 17h OHHHHH I’m goihng to cwyg #ultramarinehymn made me cryuy. iT’S SO GOOD...... #spudsquad i LOVE YOU

Alphinaud @/academician  • 17h Do give your support to #spudsquad ‘s new music video, #ultramarinehymn ! They’ve worked very hard on it!

soliriii @/windupsunshine  • 17h thank you #spudsquad for all the joy you’ve given me for the past year!! what a way to celebrate <3 #ultramarinehymn

hien’s booty @/floortank   • 16h  HEY #ultramarinehymn IS SO LIT THOUGH????? WTF

thancredwaters @/gunbrkrs  • 16h #spudsquad Good job my daughter hasn’t stopped playing this song on repeat for the past 2 hours. 

Nyx @/underthebloodmoon  • 15h Sharing a good friend’s music video here. #ultramarinehymn #spudsquad

Nidhstinien @/azuredragoon  • 15h [youtube link] #ultramarinehymn nice

vergotohelldad @/reveilleur  • 14h only 4 hours after release and #ultramarinehymn is already trending. twitter has some fucking good tastes in music thank the twelve.

Lamittens! @/lalamitt  • 14h Oh to be spud squad long time fan :pleading: I’m so fed... #ultramarinehymn #spudsquad

nhelly @/blackestmage  • 13h I turn around and #spudsquad decided to drop an absolute banger. loving #ultramarinehymn !!

Aymeric de Borel @/officialborel  • 13h A wonderful song that elicits a sense of optimism and hope. #ultramarinehymn

kafuuchi @/cloudsysmile  • 13h hey is it just me or is kaye getting hotter :blush: still a kayelily simp tho!! #ultramarinehymn

KoKomi Komi @/sangopriestess   • 12h @/starblossoms Congratulations on the new MV!! It’s very catchy! #ultramarinehymn

The scroll is endless, timeline filled with a mixture of both familiar and unfamiliar twitter handles, yet all collectively singing praises and awe for the music video and the song. It’s hard to not be overwhelmed by the sheer amount of positive reception their hard work and efforts have received, and Illya tears her eyes away from the screen to look up at Kaye with a twinkle in her wide violet eyes, and the man looks back at her expectedly. 

“I-It...It seems to be very well received.”

“’Seems to be’? The video’s got over five hundred thousand views on eorzeatube from the past 18 hours.”

Illya almost chokes on her eggs, eyes blown wide as she swallows her food abruptly and her voice raises into a high, bewildered squeak.

“F-f-five... hundred thousand???” 

By the twelve, that’s far more than even their highest recorded number of viewers on their biggest stream - and it’s been less than a day since the release of the music video. She cannot imagine just how ecstatic Mint must be at having such a successful idol-esque debut. 

“Does that ease your worries now?” Kaye asks, snapping the girl out of her train of thoughts once more, and he is met with a smile and an affirmative nod in response. 

“It does... thank you, Kaye.” 

Knowing that weeks of preparation, practice and hard work has paid off and finally bore fruit was the biggest relief Illya’s experienced in a while, and the simple knowledge that the sentiment of their song got through to a good number of the fans warmed her heart.

But in the midst of the joy, there was yet an underlying somberness lingering in the air between the pair that was not lost to either of them, as silence quickly fills the atmosphere and quickly turns the space around them cold. 

Scrolling through the top tweets didn’t exactly help either - because while it had quickly eased Illya’s worries of the music video being negatively received, in between praises for the song came the posts of fans who were dejected by the hiatus announcement.

Most of them had been supportive, of course... Their audience has ever been so welcoming, understanding and wonderful to them. But that perhaps made the disappointment they felt even worse on Illya’s melancholy, as she once again quickly slips back into the depths of her own internal mind. 

Because as well received as the music video they’d released is, it still ends with them going their separate ways, and it fills Illya with a sense of already festering loneliness that she refuses to admit verbally to.

She never did like goodbyes. 

‘The time that flows in the blink of an eye. The fear of continuing to be as we are.’

Neither Kaye nor Illya particularly enjoyed talking about their troubles, not even to each other, and so while Kaye could make an educated guess on why Illya seemed so despondent, he makes no comment on it. He was never the best at comforting others anyway.

He lets the silence fester between them even after Illya sets her phone down to focus on her plate full of breakfast, fishing his own device out of his pants pocket and begins to type away at it. 

It isn’t until after a whole ten minutes has passed that he’d finally look up from the screen, expression unreadable yet his voice sounding a modicum more relaxed than it had been a while ago as he calls out to Illya as she was drinking the last of her orange juice. 

“Hey, you’re free tonight, right?” The raven haired man asks, and Illya sets her glass down with a quirk of her eyebrow, if there was even a hint of sorrow in her, she didn’t allow him to hear it.

“Um... I am. Why?”

A smile from Kaye is a rarity, let alone one that carries such gentleness and ease... but the one he’s wearing now is so warm that it blows away the storm clouds that she hadn’t even noticed hanging over her head. 

“Then, are you cool to do an Among us stream tonight? With the other four, of course.”

Sparkling lavender eyes widen, and Illya is silent for a brief moment before stuttering out in response.

“A-aren’t you going over to Lily’s place to help her pack though?? And... the others.. aren’t they-”

“I’ll only be there for the afternoon. We’re only gonna be flying next week so there’s no rush. As for the others, I already asked. You can even invite Alphinaud if you want, the more the merrier.”

“But didn’t we just announce that we’re going on hiatus? I don’t want to trouble the others if they’re too busy either-”

Her pink lips slightly part, voice timid and soft. Hesitation and uncertainty briefly flashing through her twinkling eyes as she averts her gaze from the man and hides them under the shadows of her pure white bangs. But it does little to keep the light red burn of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose from Kaye, who only rolls his eyes at her in response.

“Gods, stop being so nice. I said I already asked and they’re down for it.... well, mostly. Ichi said he wanted to sleep but I’ll drag him outta his bed if I have to. We may be on hiatus, but it’s not like we’re gonna stop hanging out together, right?”

Though Kaye’s tone is rough and his words are painfully honest, his tongue as sharp as the gaze of his midnight blue eyes, Illya knew there was kindness laced beneath his huff, and the tension in her body slowly begins to fade, making way for a brighter, far more honest and radiant smile that washed away the chill of the air like a spring breeze.

He’s right, as he often is. 

Even if they may go their separate ways in the future, they will still always remain connected as friends, holding the memories they made together close in their hearts. 

Her phone’s buzzing with notifications again, and she takes a peek down at the lit up screen, her heart warming at the equally excited messages from her beloved friends. From Mint who is spamming :mikurave: emotes, to Lily who was telling Ichi that no, a schedule with his bed isn’t a valid excuse and Nanami who was offering to set up the stream for the night... Things are all as it should be, right here and now where they are together - where they are home. 

“If everyone’s fine with it then... I’ll join too. Don’t raid Ichi’s flat, though!” 

Illya lets out a giggle that rings out like windchimes in a cool summer breeze, and Kaye clicks his tongue with a shrug of his shoulder.

“He gave me his keys for this exact reason, he doesn’t mind. How do you think he always makes it in time for our streams? All I need to wake him up is a fork and porcelain plate and-”

“Kaye! That’s... that’s so mean-”

‘I'll hug you with equal parts expectation and anxiety. You and I, weaving the present, illuminating the future.’

[whitherliliesbloom]

all like magic to my riddled heart

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #29 - debonair ]

[ alphinaud/wol ] ★ [ 2,415 words ]  ★ [ post-canon ]

very very indulgent domestic fic. mentions the scions and laurelis.

debonair- attractive, confident, and carefully dressed (especially men)

on the occasion that alphinaud feels confident enough to perfectly exude his charm, illya never fails to be swept off her feet.

A waft of lavender and a tone of warm spring flowers, a dimly lit entrance way with flickering flames from wax candles welcoming her home. She hears the orchestrion in the living room playing a soothing harmony of an Ishgardian ballad from a distance, as the sounds of piano and violin mingle like a euphony in her ears. It’s not exactly the sight, sound and scent she’d expected coming home from a particularly taxing mission at Raincatcher Gully.

Her hair is soaked from the evening rain, silken white strands plastered to the sides of her face and neck. Her long white robe feels heavy and cold, soaked from the weight of the storm against her fair goosebump riddled skin, and yet her face feels oh so warm as she looks up with bewildered, shimmering violet eyes at the man in front of her, dressed in his smart boulevardier’s shirt that was tucked into a tan dress pants. 

And with the allure of his brilliantly confident smile as he kneels down and places a soft, mariner cotton towel over her head to dry her head of stray droplets of the rain, the warrior of light could not help but to feel utterly grubby and repulsive in comparison.

“Welcome home, darling.” Her husband greets her, his voice low and silky smooth like the finest white wine, and the young woman could only stammer like a fool as she sets her travel pack on the floor next to the neatly arranged shoe rack. 

“T-thank you- I’m home.” 

This isn’t the first time Alphinaud has welcomed her at the door- nor is it even the first he has attempted to surprise her with some manner. But an Alphinaud who was completely within his element, confident and exuding in unparalleled charisma was something she only occasionally bore witness to- and most of the time that energy of his was directed towards negotiation tables and mixed in with a seriousness that was completely absent from him now.

She’s seen all sides of him - as he has seen all sides of her, both the best of themselves and also the worst. She thought she knew Alphinaud inside out by now, having known him for what feels like her entire life now, because he certainly knew her better than she even knew herself. 

But as Krile had once eloquently said, giggling with mischief as she and Alisaie ganged up in an effort to embarrass him at his own wedding reception, Alphinaud is ever full of surprises.

Her first surprise out of many for the night would come when she feels his arms wrap around the back of her thighs, picking the lalafellin up against his chest effortlessly as he rises up and begins taking light, careful strides towards the bathroom on the first floor.

“W-wait! Alphy, your clothes!” Illya struggles against his grip, grimacing at the way the fabric of his shirt was beginning to darken at the moisture from her own. “You’re going to get dirty!”

“It’s alright, Liya.” He reassures, his head tilting to press his lips against the side of her head and eliciting a surprised squeak from his wife. “I can clean myself up later. It’s far more imperative now for you to get washed up.”

With lips pressed tightly into a thin line as she holds back anymore words of protest, she finally leans into Alphinaud’s embrace until she hears the door to the bathroom being opened. 

There’s violet blue candles lit in the bathroom as well, some scattered about the sides of the bathtub and some lined up in front of the mirror by the sink, along with a pair of her favorite white crescent moon slippers and her nightgown neatly folded and waiting to worn upon their white console table. Illya could only wonder in silent anticipation just how much the man has prepared.

He sets her down upon the edge of the bathtub, about to bend down to help remove the girl’s combat boots when Illya quickly shakes her legs off his grip with a frantic wave of her arm.

“I-It’s okay! I can do this myself!”

Something flickers in Alphinaud’s navy blue eyes, a feigned sadness that almost has her caving in to him.

“Are you sure?”

“Y-yes! Positive!” 

Finally sighing softly in relief as she watches the man get up with a soft smile and a nod, her shoulders slump lightly when he moves to the door and turns to look back at her for a moment.

“Then, I’ll check on dinner while you get cleaned.”

Dinner? Dinner?? Alphinaud prepared dinner?

Illya was not even afforded enough time to process what she’d just heard until she hears the bathroom door lightly click close, and for several, painfully long seconds her eyes could only stare forward into space, head filled with a mixture of whirling confusion and hot air that quickly spreads to the surface of her cheeks.

What has gotten into Alphinaud? Was it an anniversary of some sorts that she forgot? It’s very unlikely, given her (usually) impressive memory, especially when it came to remembering important dates. If she could memorize entire elemental charts and a textbook about advanced aetherology that she read many years ago, then surely she’d remember significant dates that related to her most beloved.

Their eternal bond anniversary won’t come for at least another half a year, and the day of their meeting had just passed a few weeks ago, celebrated with a splendid picnic dinner under the stars in Costa del Sol, listening to the sound of the waves upon the sand and distant howls of the ocean wind as they reminisced about unforgotten pasts. 

And as far as Illya could remember Alphinaud hasn’t acted any differently the days prior to this one... if only because he seemed a lot more busy with his own work than usual so much that she rarely got to even see him - something about visitors from Old Sharlayan needing help with a new research project related to arcane invocations, something that he specialized in. 

It suddenly clicks in her head now, his insistence that he didn’t require her help and his prolonged absence from home - he must have planned and prepared to surprise her all along.

The question then remained of why.. and it was unfortunately a question she could not answer on her own.

Her head is churning with flaring curiosity, even as she’d stepped into the bath and began to wash herself free of the sticky rainwater, mud and dirt upon her skin and allows herself to relax just a little as the fragrance of the plum blossom scented soap wafts into the air. 

Illya takes her time drying her hair, soft and fluffy as a morning cloud as she stood upon her lalafellin stool to stare into the mirror. Her hands move in deliberate strokes, dabbing moisture off the silken pure white strands with the towel before running her fingers through mild tangles. 

Perhaps she felt the urge to be more attentive of her own appearance knowing Alphinaud’s own well groomed self this evening, and she takes a particularly long while combing through her hair until it finally cascades down past her shoulders and hips flawlessly like a glowing wedding veil. 

The air against the skin of her bare arms as she opens the door of the bathroom feels cool and comforting, and it doesn’t take long for her husband to hear her coming out, as he peeks around the corner of the hallway and lets out a warm smile. 

“Ah, you’re done. And looking as beautiful as ever, I see.” 

He’s going above and beyond tonight, Illya thinks to herself in mild amusement and fluster. She doesn’t resist this time when the man approaches her and picks her up from the floor. 

“Dinner is almost ready. The dumplings just need a little longer.”

Oh right- dinner- 

Not only did Alphinaud prepare dinner, but he also prepared dumplings? Illya could barely contain her expression of utter surprise as she widens her eyes, wrapping her arms around his neck and fiddling with his ponytail. 

“You...you learned how to make dumplings?”

“I got a copy of your mother’s recipe for crystal shrimp and asked Tataru for assistance with learning it.” Alphinaud’s voice is laced with clear pride, as the corners of his lips curl upwards so far that it’d almost split his face in two. “I wouldn’t dare claim to be on par with a mothers’ cooking... but I’d like to think you’ll be pleased with my efforts nonetheless.”

Illya hasn’t even tasted his food yet and she’s already thoroughly impressed, and also a tad more bewildered than before now at the sheer lengths he’s gone.

Of course, she was fully aware of his previous endeavors in the culinary arts, and the scions would vouch for his efforts by bringing up testimonies of their taste buds being used as guinea pigs for his many, many cooking attempts - some more pleasant for them to stomach than others... Y’shtola in particularly even called the pastries he baked even more dire than the dreaded archon loaf, and that comparison was something a professional chef like Illya could not even begin to fathom. 

Alphinaud was a perfectionist - sometimes almost to a fault... So if he was so confident as to be making a full course dinner for her now meant that he must have gained the approval of the others.

How many days and how many nights had he labored away to practice all for her sake? To even imagine it causes Illya’s cheeks to flare up in a bright red color. 

She doesn’t even realize he’s sat them down upon the couch until she feels him move her legs to rest against his lap and he picks one of them up, causing her to involuntarily lean back onto the cushion as she rests her hands against her sides for support.

“A-alphy?? What are you-?”

“You must be exhausted from today. Why don’t I give your feet a massage?”

“M-M-Mas-Massa-????”

The fact Illya’s head hadn’t just imploded then and there on the spot was something of a miracle... though it did not stop the rush of blood pumping through her veins as her heart rapidly increases in its pace, pounding deafeningly loud within her chest. 

“Bu bu bu!! Bu xing!! Ni- Wei-” 

Her husband merely smirks, watching her fluster cause her to devolve back into her mother tongue. 

“Please, allow me to do this for you.”

With a light press of his fingers against her feet as he began kneading at the hidden knots of the muscles in her ankle and soles, Illya watched dumbfounded, relaxed yet tensed in her shoulders, unable to shake off the heat that was begin to fill her head. 

Alphinaud’s charm is dangerous - far too much so... And if he’d endeavored to completely rid her of all her composure, it’s clearly working - almost.

“Alphinaud!” The lalafellin calls his name in full, which causes the man to pause in his movements, and she feels his hands tense just slightly.

“Is something wrong, my love?” A good half of his earlier suave fades in place of genuine concern and a softened gaze in his expression, and the gentleness of his deep blue eyes allows her to finally relax.

Seizing this heaven sent opportunity, the woman leans forward, her hands raising up to cup the sides of his cheeks, and with a faked confident smirk, she whispers in a hushed tone. 

“Alisaie showed me a copy of your final thesis from the Studium.”

Instantly, color drains from the young man’s face, and the calm collected confidence he’d carried in his posture and face dissipates into an unexpected fluster of his own, as he pulls back abruptly and his voice raises in pitch.

“W-what??? But- that-” He’s stuttering, fingers loosening their hold as she finally frees her legs and lowers it over his lap. “A-ahem... but what does that have to do with anything now?? I-I mean.. if you want to tease me about it, that’s fine but-”

“It doesn’t.” With an apologetic and gentle smile, she raises her hand up to softly brush against his face. “And I was lying about that, I’m sorry.”

“Oh thank the twelve-”

Alphinaud’s shoulders droop down in relief and his head bows, a heavy exhale leaving his parted lips. Illya cannot help but to let out a soft, melodic giggle that catches the man’s attention to finally lift his head up to look at her again.

“But why did you...?”

“I feared a casanova took over the body of my husband.” Illya laughs quietly, “I was just making sure it really was you.”

“Does that sort of charm not suit me, then? You told Laurelis that you liked it when I’m confident.” 

Ah- So that’s why... 

The revelation that her husband had overheard her speaking of him to her best friend darkens the already blistering hot blush over her cheeks and ear, but not as much as the idea that the reason he’d spontaneously decided to surprise her in this manner was because of a misunderstanding over what he heard.

Well, not entirely. The confidence Alphinaud carried that she’d mentioned to Laurelis was of a different sort - of a man who worked tirelessly towards his ideals and would not give up his dreams no matter who would aim to persuade him to. Of the man that she grew so enamored to for his undying devotion towards his goals and towards serving and protecting others. For all he has endured and all that he continues to uphold even with all that he has suffered through in life.

Where others would see a naive, idle dreamer, she saw in him someone who was capable of so much - and if anybody in the world would be able to make his far reaching dreams a reality, it’d be Alphinaud. 

That was the confident Alphinaud Illya fell in love with.

Though, she admits begrudgingly, with a light sheepish shift of her leg beneath the hem of her gown and a tilt of her head to avert her eyes from his own, that this debonair side of Alphinaud was very much welcome as well.

“No, no. It suits you very well.” With an embarrassed pout, Illya lifts her left leg slightly into the air for him to hold, leaning back onto the palms of her hands once more. “I like it. Very much.”

[whitherliliesbloom]

taming the stray

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #01 - foster ]

[ kayelily ]  ★ [ 888 words ]  ★ [ post-shb, but no real spoilers ]

foster- encourage the development of (something, especially something desirable).

lily still remembers how kaye’s eyes had looked 7 summers ago, when it was filled with naught but distrust and contempt for the world. 

Against all her instincts, she fights the urge to fall back against the weight upon her shoulder, stifling a laugh when she feels stray strands of raven hair tickle and brush against her cherry blushed cheeks. 

Her hand raises, grasping the man beside her by his shoulders as she gently shakes him - though the groan that leaves his barely parted lips is indication enough that it would be a feeble attempt to wake him.

“Bloody hells, stop moving will you?”

How demanding. 

Those words don’t leave her lips, despite the exasperation apparent with the twitch of her eyebrows and momentary frown upon her face. 

But this is better, she muses with something akin to pride welling in her chest, this is preferable. Because he needs me. He trusts me. 

The warrior of light had always reminded her of a stray - a lone wolf who wandered the lands, haggard, wary and feral...but never defeated. Back then and even now, his eyes carried the ferocity of a poisoned razor’s blade. She would know, because she’d been on the receiving end of it. 

That was the past, of course... her olive green eyes peeks to her side at the man as he dozes off - now looking uncharacteristically tranquil with the thunder storm that was his gaze hidden beneath a closed lid and a black eyepatch. But the memory that had been his past venomous, harsh words towards her during their several first few meetings has certainly not gone forgotten. Worse still, it stung her heart a tad to recall.

It wasn’t for her own feelings that Lilian had felt the raging urge to throw a leash around the stray wolf, nor was it out of a desire for self-satisfaction or anything the man in the bandana had accused her of that had made her so adamant about recruiting him into the Scions. 

Thancred believed it to be the man’s exceeding rare gift, aye... and that would be the excuse Lily would always give when questioned about her actions all those years ago. But Hydaelyn’s blessing isn’t enough reason for her to put up with snide remarks and constant rejection - echo be damned if you have an awful personality. 

But even with Kaye’s exceedingly dubious, uncharitable and quite frankly unpleasant work ethics, she saw in him something uncomfortably close to what she’d describe to be the ugly projection of her own mirror image; of a side of herself that she’d kept so expertly hidden beneath an amiable demeanor.

He was empty, alone and lacking in purpose. He wielded a blade for the sake of coin, but the procurement of said coin brought him no joy - not even temporarily. 

She could see it from his eyes, sharp and intimidating though it may be, carried a bitterness and distrust for everything and everyone around him that she knew from experience could not have been present at birth. 

Contempt is nurtured, not natured... and the circumstances this apparently gifted mercenary lived under - despite not having even reached his third decade of age, convinced herself that this lone wolf needed not a hand to feed him - but a worthier, much bigger prey to focus his energies on - a purpose to fight, a reason to live. 

The man never took contracts that preyed on the impoverished, and from the testimonies of the innkeepers and bartenders she’d questioned to gain intelligence on said elusive mercenary, he was always eager to turn his blade against those who he’d deemed to deserve justice. 

Quite the selfsame as her, she’d thought with a grin on her face. 

She liked him, even if it was clear from the deep and wrinkled scowl on his face whenever he saw her that the feeling wasn’t mutual. But it mattered not. A wolf has to grow tired of howling angrily at the moon one day. 

It has been years since, and she hasn’t quite yet sanded down his edges... Refined as a polished dagger would be compared to a rusted one, perhaps. But not gentle in the least - not that she would want him to be. It is enough for her to know that he is here, leaning against her, depending on her and the scions. 

He no longer lives to spite the world, now risking his life for the sake of it. He trusts her, enough that he’d told her of his past that only further cemented her decision back then as being the right one. He believes in her, he cherishes her. And she’d not give anything in the world in exchange for that. 

“Oi.” 

She is snapped out of her dazed thoughts by a grunt beside her, and only now does she notice that her shoulder feels free - but cold and empty.

“Kaye, you’re awake?” 

The raven haired man rolls his one uncovered right eye, huffing as he leans back on his hand and tilts his head to the side.

“So observant. Nothing gets past you, does it?” his voice is dripping in mockery which causes Lily to pout. 

“You have a nasty attitude, you know that?” 

Kaye grunts again in acknowledgement, but he closes his hand into a fist to playfully bump her against the forehead, a smile ghosting the very corners of his lips.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

[whitherliliesbloom]

a house of cards

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #11 - preaching to the choir ]

[ alphinaud/wol ] ★ [ 1,468 words ]  ★ [ tears of themis au ] 

to speak for or against something to people who already agree with one's opinions

it takes unwavering conviction, something alphinaud never once doubted stellis’ best junior attorney to possess in strides

Bouts of outspokenness and raw charisma came only occasionally for Illya. It was most common in the courtroom, where her natural reservations and usual shyness is thrown aside in favor of a demeanor more confident as she fights for rightful judgement with her words.

Once in a while however, that forwardness would resurface outside the tribunal whenever she felt an urgency behind the cause she had deemed most imperative to root for. 

It was never for her own sake that she’d channel her energy into, nor has she ever fought in defense for someone she didn’t genuinely believe to be deserving of it... But that only made her assertiveness all the more admirable.

And by the gods, what a sight it was to truly see.

“You have to let me investigate this case, Dr. Leveilleur!” Normally soft and gentle voice that has always reminded him of the melodic chirping of songbirds now raised and lowered in octave to convey her seriousness, he forces a frown onto his face as he stares down at the young woman who with equal solemnness furrows her brows even further. “I insist.”

Illya was never a woman who insisted on things - especially not towards someone who wasn’t her direction opposition in a court case. And it was perhaps the first time he’s ever seen her raise her voice in response to his own words.

There is zero chances of their conversation being overheard regardless of how loudly she spoke - soundproof as his office and workspace is for the purpose of protecting the privacy of his patients. And Illya knows this full well - is utilizing the perfect opportunity to showcase her will. 

The woman was determined - and little wonder.

“You would pour your energy into a cold case?” Alphinaud questions, feigning a doubtful tone in his voice. “But what would be the point of that?”

“It just doesn’t add up! Surely you must feel there’s something amiss with the case too, don’t you? Why else would the case mysteriously be transferred into the open case files in the NXX database?” 

There is certainly full merit to her words, but Alphinaud doesn’t speak - merely silent as he watches the youngest member of their secret investigative group brace her hands against the wooden desk. The chamomile tea he’d poured for her still sat neglected in its cup, slowly growing colder.

“The plaintiff of the first lawsuit clearly had an agenda against Garlond Ironworks... What’s more, the circumstances behind Miss Jessie’s death are incredibly suspicious. It’s just... It’s just way too convenient for it to be a mere accident!” 

The psychiatrist hums, narrowing his eyes before folding his arms across his chest. 

“Be that as it may... It’s still been over two years since the ruling. Any evidence we might have found back then would either have been lost, destroyed or confiscated. It would be difficult to find enough evidence to call for another lawsuit... let alone turn the first ruling around.”

Alphinaud leans forward, his expression grave and serious to match her own. 

“Not to mention... the first lawsuit ended with the death of one of the defendants. If her passing truly is a result of foul play instead of an accident, like you proposed... You must know full well how dangerous investigating this case would be.” 

The woman doesn’t respond, not immediately anyway, as she bows her head down and takes a sharp inhale through her nose in order to recollect her thoughts. 

But against the protective instincts of her head, and against the nervous pounding of her heart in the face of a man who was questioning her, Illya finally turns to look up, violet eyes burning with resolve that Alphinaud knows will not soon be extinguished. 

“I know. I knew, ever since I joined NXX... no, ever since I decided to become an a lawyer. I know of the risks, and I know that it won’t be easy. I may lose my reputation, my job... or even worse. But I can’t any of that get in the way of my fight. The world deserves the truth, and the victims deserve justice.”

He can hear her nails scratching against the wooden surface of his desk as she pulls her fingers inwards and balls her hands into tight fists... and he can tell that he’s another objection away from forcing her voice into a yell.

“I’m ready to do whatever it takes, Dr Leveilleur! Please, you have to believe me!”

The smile that the young psychiatrist had been forcing himself to hold back is plastered upon his face now, lips upturned into a youthful, pleased grin as he moves to grab his prized set of poker cards from the pocket of his lab coat.

“Do you remember when we first met, Illya?” he asks, sitting himself down on his black office chair with Illya’s gaze turning down to follow him. 

At the man’s sudden, unrelated question, her shoulders finally visibly relax... the furled knots in her brows unwinding and bright star-spangled eyes widening in confusion.

“E-eh? Um... Well... yes, why?” Her voice softens to it’s usual volume and pitch, and Alphinaud’s chest wells up with something akin to adoration... but he speaks of none of it towards her.

“Do you remember what happened?” Alphinaud asks, opening the box to pull out the deck as he nonchalantly begins shuffling the cards. 

Illya’s eyes dart down to his hands, and without a single second’s hesitation, she nods. 

“You were in your office... stacking cards. And then you asked me to pull one out without topping the rest over.”

As if to replay, or at least relive that memory, Alphinaud begins pulling apart the deck to stack the cards up into yet another tower, slender fingers careful and precise as he props two cards up against one another before pulling away. He lets a chuckle when he notes Illya puffing her chest out as if to hold her breath as she watches him.

“I did. And when the tower collapsed, I asked you if you would try again if you had the opportunity to.”

He lays a card flat against the four upright cards, before moving on to stack yet another two cards on top of it.

“In truth... I asked you that question as a form of test, Illya.”

“A test?” Her voice raises a tad out of bewilderment... but he is mildly surprised to note that she isn’t more... shocked by his confession.

“As a psychiatrist and the one in charge of investigating mental health cases, it naturally fell to me to ensure that each potential candidate had the suitable qualities to become a member of the NXX.” 

Leaning back against his chair, Alphinaud’s once warm smile now falters into a more somber, apologetic frown as he gazes at the woman standing on the other side of the desk.

“I’m also responsible for making sure that each member is suitably mentally prepared to take on whatever cases they have been put in charge of... which means-”

“You... were just testing me?”

At Illya’s query, Alphinaud’s heart leaps into his throat, and his usual concrete collectiveness slips - voice stuttering and hands raising into the air in a panic.

“I-... For what it’s worth, I never doubted you! Not even for a second.” He quickly reassures, before shaking his head. “Neither did G’raha or Aymeric, for that matter. Estinien has his reservations, as usual.. but! But rest assured, with my testimony, I’ll be able to convince him to-”

“I understand, Dr. Leveilleur.” The sight of her upturned lips, the twinkling of her dazzling eyes and the adorable, almost sheepish reddening of her cheeks, Alphinaud feels his heart skip a beat and a lump catching in his throat. “it’s alright, I don’t blame you. I just...”

The young woman leans back, tucking her arms behind her back as she turns her head away to hide the rapidly darkening blush upon her face beneath the shadows of her bangs.

“I just feel a little embarrassed now.... I was being so forceful and loud and I...”

Heavens, she’s cute. Cute and assertive when she needs to be. If he does not make his move soon, the others would surely- 

“There’s no need to be embarrassed. Not with me, Illya.” Alphinaud rises from his seat, sauntering around his desk and moving towards the young attorney before kneeling down before her with a smile. 

“In fact... if you could find it in your heart to forgive me for my deception... I would like to offer my assistance to you during your investigation.”

The forgotten tower of cards upon his desk stands tall and proud, as does Illya as she looks up at the man with a wide smile and a nod.

“Then, you are forgiven, Dr. Leveilleur.” 

[whitherliliesbloom]

by the book

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #09 - friable ]

[ tataru & mentioned alphinaud/wol ] ★ [ 666 words ]  ★ [ pre-endwalker ]

friable: easily crumbled or pulverized

the last time alphinaud tasted scones this unappetizing was back in old sharlayan. and though he doesn’t exactly mind, it is absolutely a problem when the one he hopes to gift his baked goods to also happens to be one of eorzea’s best culinarians and the hero of the star both. 

“I don’t understand.” Frustration laced in his voice as he held the scone in his hand- brittle, dried crumbs from what was meant to be a buttery, savory sweet piece of baked delicacy instead threatening to crumble apart like sand between his fingers should he exert more force. “I followed the recipe devotedly... and yet the result is... less than satisfactory.”

The receptionist of the Scions who stood beside him upon a lalafellin stool could only shoot the young man a sympathetic glance as she shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders.

“Sometimes cooking by the book isn’t always enough... I’m not much of a culinary wiz myself but, I know baking takes a lot more precision and practice.”

Humming in dissatisfaction, Alphinaud could only grumble as what little of the pitiful scones finally loses its structure and falls apart. 

“Why don’t you ask Illya? She’s the top chef at the bismarck, isn’t she? She’d be able to teach you a lot better than I can.”

At the mention of that name, Alphinaud’s eyes widen in alarm, and he frantically shakes his head.

“No, no. I can’t. Not her.”

“Why not? You said you wanted to get better at cooking, didn’t you?” Tataru’s confusion is evident on her face as she tilts her head to the side inquisitively. “I can think of no better teacher than her, especially for you.”

“It’s exactly because it’s Illya that I-” 

He doesn’t manage to finish his sentence- can’t bring himself too as he turns his head away to hide his expression of sheepishness. From beneath warm orange lamplights and the hues of flickering candles, Tataru can see a blossoming red hue warming the cheeks of his face and spreading to the tip of his pointed ears... and finally, she smiles in understanding.

She had her suspicions, of course... Why would the boy not ask someone who was objectively much more experienced and knowledgeable on cooking and baking than her? And to top it all off- considering Alphinaud’s more than a little close personal relationship with the warrior of light, Tataru would certainly assume that Illya would be the first person he’d approach in regards to the subject matter. 

That would be a different story, however, if Illya was in fact the reason he wants to learn to cook in the first place.

Poor old Alphinaud. Is that why he insisted on learning how to bake scones? Tataru vaguely remembers the warrior of light mentioning offhandedly that she was craving for some blueberry scones the last time the scions held a meeting at the rising stones... and though that remark had been brushed off by most of the others, the receptionist isn’t at all surprised to learn now that Alphinaud had likely taken her supposedly trivial remark to heart. 

Tataru wouldn’t put it past Alphinaud, eager to always please as he always is... especially when it came to the object of all of his affections and admiration. The fact that Illya was arguably one of the most qualified culinarians in Eorzea on top of already being a certified realm renowned hero must’ve only made the pressure Alphinaud felt to improve himself to meet her standards all the more daunting a prospect - if not something he undoubtedly feels to be impossible. 

But she’s never known the boy to give up in the face of adversity... and so she lets out a knowing giggle, causing Alphinaud’s blush to darken in its hue before she finally sighs.

“Alright, I won’t push your buttons. I’ll do my best to teach you what I know.” Tataru grins widely as she places her hands upon her hips. “But know that I won’t be as forgiving or patient a teacher as Illya! I’ll have you baking and baking until the hair upon your brows singe!”

With widened blue eyes, Alphinaud face lights up in a show of momentary surprise, before he furrows his brows in determination and nods eagerly.

“Yes, I would expect nothing less, Tataru.”