#kweh-ed

[the-blind-geisha]

[copper-rook]

Kain watches intently as White Cloud picks up the bird, his gaze lingering before it goes back to looking at Breda for only a fraction of a moment. He's unreasonably horrified by a little chocobo.

Or, maybe, it's the floating sword. Either way, it's a little funny.

He isn't really sure what to say, but he is happy to know someone else is safe and not to be worried over.

Chicken is delighted as well, leaning into White Cloud's hand and "kweh"ing back at him as if telling the Misterican all about his day. The chocobo looks over at the sword more than once, though goes back to soaking up the attention and chatting every time.

He almost doesn't want to interrupt, but now White Cloud's attention is on him entirely.

For a split second, he thinks of asking for a hug and maybe a cup of coffee, shifting as if anticipating being physically supported, but he stops himself from doing that. He's wasted enough of the Misterican's time already - he knows that he's actually there just to return Breda then go off looking for Ed and Al again. Those are important things, so he limits himself to only one question.

"I... I was just going to ask if 'White Cloud' is your full name, and also if 'Kumo' is like... for only friends, or if you'd want me to use it?"

Breda watches as White Cloud talks to the creature and then worse: he picks it up like it's not able to bite the everloving shit out of him.

What's more is he sees the sword unsheath itself, float, then rest neatly on the side of the chair - what the fuck was that about?

And... it isn't cold, so why is there fog out of White Cloud?

Some alchemy bullshit, maybe.

His main concern is on Fuery, though, who he can't seem to make eye contact with even though he's trying. It's like Fuery doesn't want him there, and he can't lie and say it's not surprising. He'd expected some huge outpouring of relief or something of the sort, not basically being ignored. It's weird even for someone who's already a bit strange like Fuery.

Once he determines that the black sphere of doom must be waiting to plan an attack instead of executing it right now, he finally cuts back into the conversation the only way he knows how: bluntly.

"What's up with you, Sergeant?"

Fuery lowers his head a little, sighs, then looks up again. "Nothing, sir. Just wondering about his name."

He figures it's a lie, but he decides to back off for now to let him get his question answered.

There is the sound of Herra Breda demanding that Herra Fuery put his friend down and while the younger Amestrian refuses, the chocobo is practically jumping out of his arms to greet the Misterican. Small sounds of excitement leaving the bird as it does so.

The mist prince is jerked backwards by the man behind him but instead of moving with him further, a smile is on his lips and the swordsman is plucking the small black ball of feathers from the ground and lifting him up into his arms.

"Miksi hei pikkuinen, mitä kuuluu?" He sounds with a hear song like chime to his voice, a slender hand raising so fingers can scritch under the bird's neck gently.

He's grinning like a child for a moment, attention solely focused on the bird until jade eyes rise and fix directly on that of the bird's owner.

"Herra Fuery are you alright? I have whatever time you require of me, what did you need? And no need to worry about Herra Breda, has been decently polite the entire time actually. More so than Herra Mustang was when we met."

There's a smile and a laugh as he takes a step forward to slip is foot behind the leg of the chair next to Fuery's bed and he tugs it out to be in a more suitable position. There is an audible click from behind him in that moment. His sword comes free and floats of it's own accord only to raise and then lower itself to lean against the wall by the chair. It's only then that the Misterican takes a seat with the Chocobo will cradled in his arms, hand still giving it loving scratches.

"You have my undivided attention. How can I help?"

[dragoon-of-all-trades]

A Kiss Among the Stars for @maxi-chaii ♥

[berrydoodleoo]

Last in this series. Prompto, Noct, Luna.

After the Long Night, nature entered a period of hectic regrowth as the aether tied up by the gods and the Crystal returned to the planet. Plants sprouted and flourished in the space of a week, young trees flowered repeatedly and out of season, and fruit bloomed and ripened virtually overnight. Many of the old trees have fallen, providing nourishment to the new growth, but to everyone’s astonishment a few managed to survive. Sheltering secret life through the long darkness. These ones bloom most beautifully of all.

Animal life recovered more slowly, but litter sizes were two or three times the size they used to be. Flocks of birds filled the sky, dipping and looping in the sunlight for the sheer joy of it. Old Wiz returned to his farm and found a handful of chocobos already waiting for him, as if they had passed down the legend of his ranch during the Long Night. They led him to a brand-new egg, the first he’d seen in almost ten years, and kweh-ed and wark-ed happily as a new hutch was built to shelter it from the then-bare earth. These days, he can barely keep up with all the hatchlings.

Amidst all of this, Noct convinced Prompto and Luna to go on a fishing trip monitor the changing conditions in the Alstor Slough. It’s important, right? Sania said so.... So here they are, watching the sun rise before Noct breaks out the fishing pole, Luna digs out her watercolors, and Prompto starts photographing every flower and bird he sees. The first of many dawns together.

[kaasknot]

tagged by @trillgutterbug ty!!

name: kaasknot, short for kaa's knot. yes i am a freak—but let it be known i picked this name well before a/b/o existed. call me kaa

star sign: JIF natural crunchy peanut butter is best, but i'll accept skippy as a substitute if, for example, there is a salmonella recall,

height: 5'10.5". the half inch is very important to me.

time: is an artificial construct of industrialization and i wish it didn't exist

birthday: labor day

favorite bands/artists: i hate these questions. currently listening to duke ellington, johnny cash, lord huron, indila, and a variety of movie soundtracks. honorable mention to batushka, ethel cain, and four fists.

last movie: buster keaton's Go West, which is heart-warming and absurd beyond belief. with a surprise helping of shockingly racist! but at least that was short-lived, and not entirely unexpected for a movie made in 1925. do watch if you want to see a lonely man befriend an outcast cow, that same man run through the streets of los angeles wearing a devil gimp suit, and can turn off your brain for approximately 1 minute during the organ grinder sequence.

last show: last one i remember clearly was Bridgerton, but that absolutely wasn't the last show i watched. star trek, probably

when did i create this blog: 2012, riding the wave of loki thirst

what i post: mostly reblogs, specializing in memes, shitposts, and whatever fixation du jour i happen to be snorting. currently, that's buster keaton, with flourishes of star trek, supernatural, and band of brothers. burned out on star wars and marvel, you probs won't see any of either for a while

last thing i googled: jake shimabukuro's ukulele cover of "while my guitar gently weeps"

other blogs: ehhh they exist but i don't actually use them. everything i post online goes on this blog

do i get asks?: occasionally. i don't usually know how to answer them, so i ignore them and feel awkward about it

following: smth like 400 blogs, most of which are inactive

average hours of sleep: 7.5 if my cat cooperates

instruments: singing, whistling, very rudimentary piano, even more rudimentary ukulele

what i’m wearing: clothes

dream job: i simply do not dream of labor.

dream trip: i don't go places unless i have good reason. family obligations, to see friends, and/or to go to a convention are usually why i travel

nationality: american

favorite songs: idek i'm just gonna name songs i've played a lot in the last few days. "have you checked your butthole" by tom cardy, jakub józef orliński singing "vedrò con mio diletto" (basically on repeat), "hell's comin' with me" by poor man's poison

last book i’ve read: last book i actually finished was Camera Man, by dana stevens. it was a biography of buster keaton. currently i'm in the middle of reading Buster Keaton: A Filmmaker's Life by james curtis, Keaton by rudi blesh, and Buster Keaton's Sherlock Jr., ed. andrew horton, an essay collection analyzing one of his movies (i know i have a condition, it's terminal). other books i'm reading are Madam: The Biography of Polly Adler by debby applegate (1920s prostitution), Rank Ladies: Gender and Cultural Hierarchy in American Vaudeville by m. alison kibler (what it says on the tin), The Myth of Prison Rape: Sexual Culture in American Prisons by mark fleisher and jessie krienert (basically saying that rape exists, but not using the definitions of civilian society; extremely interesting read), and The Ukulele Handbook by gavin pretor-pinney and tom hodgkinson. i am actually reading all of them, but it's going pretty slowly.

top 3 fictional universes i’d like to live in: star trek for sure. i read a lot of crapsack world scifi, tho, so that's it.

lowkey tagging @spokir @countessofbiscuit @kweh-not-wark @cabezadeperro @even-subtext-is-canon @nottonyharrison

[the-blind-geisha]

Fanfic Ask Meme

A: How did you come up with the title to [insert fic]?

B: Any of your stories inspired by personal experience?

C: What character do you identify with most?

D: Is there a song or a playlist to associate with [insert fic]?

E: If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would it be about?

F: Care to share a favorite hurt/comfort fic?

G: Care to share a favorite crack fic?

H: How would you describe your style?

I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?

J: Write or describe an alternative ending to [insert fic].

K: What's the angstiest idea you've ever come up with?

L: What's the weirdest AU you've ever come up with?

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you'd care to share?

N: Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you?

O: How do you begin a story--with the plot, or the characters?

P: Are you what George R. R. Martin would call an "architect" or a "gardener"? (How much do you plan in advance, versus letting the story unfold as you go?)

Q: Do you have any discarded scenes/storylines/projects?

R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?

S: Any fandom tropes you can't resist?

T: Any fandom tropes you can't stand?

U: A pairing you might like to write for, but haven't tried yet.

V: A secondary (or underrated) character you want to see more of in fic?

W: Do you like more general prompts, or more specific ones?

X: A character you enjoy making suffer.

Y: A character you want to protect.

Z: Major character death--do you ever write/read it? Is there a character whose death you can't tolerate?

[soupercatte]

FFXIV Writing Prompt #8: Tepid

“You’re joking, right?”

Teka’a scowled at his father as they stood on the side of a small dirt road, the chocobo carriage they had been riding in pulling away as the birds kweh!-ed happily in the scorching La Noscean sun. Seemingly undeterred, Kelas’ra smiled broadly at the tween, his fading silvery hair nearly blinding in the sun. 

“I would never jest about such a thing! Hurry hurry, before you burn to a crisp out here!”

More like a child than an adult man he gathered their things in his arms, excitedly bouncing down the path towards the beach. With a heavy sigh well beyond his years, Teka’a began the descent himself, hissing and grumbling as the dirt gave way to sand, burning his toes in the sandals they had purchased merely a few hours prior.

He’d never been to Costa del Sol before and rightly he had never really wanted to, having grown accustomed to the chill of Ishgard and the temperate forests of Gridania where he had been born. The air here was thick and muggy and the sun’s rays so strong he thought he might combust on the spot, turning into a smoking splotch upon the sand. It had been torture enough to suffer the ride here from Limsa Lominsa, traveling via cart instead of taking the ship like any sane person would, Kelas’ra instead insisting on the so called “scenic route”.

Teka’a struggled to walk across the sand, pushing past the fronds of a large tropical plant that had begun to grow in the way and blinked wearily, scanning the paths ahead to see Kelas’ra waving at him, pointing down a path to the left.

“Here!” The man called, his voice carrying over the cries of the birds that circled overhead, “We’re down here!”

The boy huffed once more and picked up the pace to close the distance between them, finding himself thankful for the small sticks and twigs that soon began to line the path, making it easier for him to  cross the sand dunes. Before long he caught up to Kelas’ra, joining him by his side as they passed by small huts built along the foliage line, spread several yalms apart so that each one was perfectly hidden from the other.

“You’re really excited about this, huh?” Teka’a murmured as they paused to let a flock of Apkallu waddle by, squawking up a storm. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so…”

He glanced up at his father, noting the excited glimmer in his eyes as they pressed on. “...so chipper.”

“Am I truly so obvious?” Kelas’ra laughed, his honeyed voice playful and warm. “I will admit, it has been quite a while since I’ve taken a vacation. I had expected to just nap at home for a few days, but when the others mentioned this, well…I couldn’t help myself. In the wintertime, nonetheless!”

They stopped in front of a hut at the very end, offset from the sandy path and guarded by massive tropical bushes and trees with the cliffside a few yalms in the back. Distantly he heard the roar of a waterfall, wondering if they would have access to it or not.

“This is us.” Kelas’ra purred, his ears and tail flicking madly in the air as he gleefully cheered and turned to the boy. “Aren’t you excited? It’s a beach vacation!”

Teka’a scanned the hut, noting the rickety fiber walls and the thatched roof before he slouched, clutching his bag to his chest.

“Absolutely ecstatic.” The child grumbled. “Simply beside myself. Tears of joy I could weep but alas it’s too hot and I’m too thirsty.”

Instead of concern Kelas’ra burst into a ringing laugh, nudging his shoulder before he continued onward towards the hut. “Oh come now, what’s with that pitiful, tepid response? This is all for you, you know!”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

They entered the hut and Teka’a glanced about, taking stock of the wide bed made of woven palm leaves and bamboo. That was the main draw of the hut, it seemed, a small fire pit and cookpot in the center of the room and a single chest of drawers shoved against the back wall, the drawers offset and sideways if there were even drawers at all. At least there’s a desk. He sighed to himself, setting his bag on the bed before testing the reeds with his hand. They didn’t give way so he carefully sat down, wincing at the loud creaking of the bamboo holding up his weight.

“Tis true.” Kelas’ra mused as he unpacked their belongings, pulling his curly silver hair free from the bun he typically wore, letting it poof out in all directions from the humidity. He rather looked like a Cloud Mallow, as skinny as he was and how vibrant his hair had turned, causing Teka’a to snort to himself.

When he’d first met his adopted father roughly four years past Kelas’ra had had a mop of black hair with a few silvery white strands near his face. Surprisingly, over the years as they had lived together Teka’a had watched on in curiosity as the man’s hair had continued to lighten from the tips to the roots instead of the other way around, almost as if the color was being sapped away. If it bothered him Kelas’ra said nothing, pretending as if nothing had changed but he did on occasion dye it back to its natural color.

He stretched with a loud groan, flexing his shoulders as he reassembled his bun, turning with a bright smile, his bi-colored eyes wide and practically glowing. “So, My Heart, what would you like to do first? Shall we explore the beaches or perhaps trek the jungles nearby? Or mahyap a trip to cool off under the waterfalls?”

“I’d like to go home.” Teka’a murmured before he could stop himself, internally wincing as Kelas’ra’s smile faltered, his ears drooping downwards. 

“Oh…” He said softly. “Well…soon, then. The Respite sent us off for the week, so we might as well enjoy it while we can.”

The two sat in an awkward silence as Teka’a chewed on his lip, glancing to his bag on the bed. It contained the tome he had been reading, though he was nearly finished. He had been on a kick recently learning about astrology and the histories behind it, which was primarily the reason he was so frustrated about leaving Ishgard. Having befriended some of the astrologians at the Athenaeum Astrologicum he’d been enraptured listening to them speak, picking their brains about theories and various questions. They had been enamored with the strange Miqo’te boy with the insatiable thirst for knowledge and humored him, treating him like a student himself or perhaps more like page, occasionally sending him out on errands across the city in exchange for more secretive lessons. He loved it and was eager to continue but right in the middle of his studies Kelas’ra had whisked him away without so much as a warning.

He watched his father continue to deflate before him, pouting. It was pitiful, really, though it did fill him with a pang of guilt. After all, Kelas’ra worked nonstop; from the commissions and workload he still took on from the carpentry guild in Gridania to his status as foreman of several worksites across Ishgard to cooking for not only the Respite nearly every day but also bringing spare meals to the orphanages and those living in the Brume, it was any wonder how in the world he stayed on his feet. If anybody needed a vacation it would certainly be him.

And Teka’a was ruining it.

Not everything is about you, you idiot. The boy chided himself, pulling off his tunic and replacing it with a thin linen top with the sleeves cut off. Doing the same with his thick trouser and replacing them with a lighter linen pair of shorts he crossed the room to where Kelas’ra tinkered with some bottles in his travel bag, the clicking of the glass sharp and loud in the silent hut.

“Maybe…” He began, causing Kelas’ra to turn. “...we can go to the beach? I’ve never really seen it in person, you know.”

The Corvosi man’s face lit up, grinning excitedly. “A great choice! Let us go before we lose the best sunlight!”

----

The longer they stayed out there, Teka’a hated to admit it but the locale was growing on him. He had been lukewarm on the idea of lingering at the beach for a full week but the more they ran around and explored the more fun he had begun to have. 

Kelas’ra was surprisingly knowledgeable about how to live off the land, teaching Teka’a how to set traps and helped him practice with his bow, adjusting his stance and wincing when he would get hit with string-slap. He would tell him stories of Corvos and of the time he lived on the road, traveling to the technicolor wonder that was Radz-at-Han before coming to Eorzea, stories that danced in Teka’a’s eyes much like the flames of their fires at night, huddled together in the hut or along the beach while Kelas’ra expertly cooked the fish and other things they had caught during the day.

As they grew closer and closer Teka’a had come to realize there was a lot he didn’t know about his adopted father and felt a bit sheepish that he had never asked the man about all of this before. He learned that he loved birds of all kinds, Hamsa of course being his favourite and the flock they had raised when he was a boy himself. He learned that Kelas’ra had gotten the scar across his jaw from a drunken barfight as a teenager whereas the large scar over his blue eye was a mystery, something he didn’t remember receiving. He learned that he was the youngest of his family and the shortest by a far margin and that his red eye had been a source of contempt and fear for him growing up. All manners of things, Teka’a listened in rapt attention, always curious, always asking just one more question.

They climbed all over the cliffs in their time at Costa del Sol, exploring caves and grottos and valleys long untouched. They climbed the waterfall and slid down the rockface, holding onto each other while screaming and laughing as they careened over the edge and into the ice cold water pools below. If there was a way to reach it, they explored it, staying out till the sun fell beneath the waves and then they danced along the beaches, Kelas’ra singing traditional Corvosi songs, his gentle honeyed voice rising and crashing with the waves around them.

In short: it truly was paradise and despite the fact he hadn’t wanted to enjoy his time here, Teka’a soon found himself dreading the day they needed to leave.

He sat on the beach the final night, huddled in a tight ball near the fire they had built with dry tinder and sticks. The waves were calm, lapping softly at the shore as he rubbed his sunburnt arms, feeling the heat rising from his skin.

“One for you!” Kelas’ra’s singsong voice wafted on the breeze as he reached out and took the skewer covered in various tropical fruits that had been slathered with a palm sugar syrup before thrust into the fire, charring them and causing the syrup to solidify and crack. “And one for me.” The man sat at his side with a grunt, biting into a chunk of pineapple with a pleased moan, eyes closed in bliss. Teka’a nibbled his own skewer, enjoying the sweet yet smoky flavors.

“So, was it as bad as you thought it would be?” His father asked slyly, bumping his shoulder against the boy’s. “For one who was so doom and gloom at the start you seemed to have enjoyed yourself. Even if it was just to make me feel better.”

“Yeah yeah…” The tween smirked, bumping him back. “Sorry I was such a jerk to you earlier. I was so caught up in my studies I didn’t realize you needed a break. It won’t happen again.”

“No need to apologize.” Kelas’ra sat back with a whimsical look, eyes distant as he stared out across the water, stars reflecting down below. “I know you enjoy learning about magick, though I don’t quite understand it myself, what with my err…aether sickness and all.”

He rummaged around for a moment before procuring a small wrapped object, rectangular but rather heavy, setting it in Teka’a’s lap. The boy stared at it before peering up at him with a confused expression.

“Well, go on.” Kelas’ra waved with a laugh. “Open it up! I’ve kept it hidden this whole time.”

Teka’a ran his hands over the object, pulling at the silk cloth that wrapped it, a Hannish design painted into the fibers. As the cloth fell away he remained dumbstruck as the light caught the metal clasps of the massive tome in his hands. It was a gorgeous thing, made of heavy archaeornis leather and rose gold filigree, a metal clasp keeping the golden gilded pages bound tightly.

“I’ve been working on this for a while now.” Kelas’ra beamed, his ears flicking happily, moonsilver hair swirling on the breeze. “I’m quite proud of it, actually. It’s a grimoire for your studies with notes and encouragement from those who have taught you. The scholars at the Astrologicum, the Inquisitors, even those conjurers in Gridania that you pester when we go home. I traveled around and asked them if they would be willing and each said yes.”

Teka’a was stunned silent, lifting the clasp and flipping through the tome to see various messages and even schematics from his teachers and acquaintances. He explored the pages until he returned to the beginning of the book where a simple message had been scrawled in small yet elegant handwriting, the language unknown to him.

“What’s this?” He pointed to it, confused. “What does this say?”

Smiling warmly Kelas’ra took his finger and ran it over the text. “This is my message to you.” He said softly, turning to the boy. “It’s in Corvosi as I still haven’t quite mastered literacy in Eorzean. I’ll translate it for you.”

Teka’a followed his hand as he spoke, heart thumping in his ears. 

“Congratulations on your thirteenth name day, My Heart. You are my guiding star, my blinding sun, my shining moon. You are the driving force that keeps me striving to be a better me, even when you make me want to pull my hair out. I know we have only known each other for a handful of years but you are more precious to me than any treasure or jewel or gem. I hope this book will bring you joy throughout the years and never stop being who you are. I love you.  --Papa.”

It was his Name Day, he’d completely forgotten. 

Feeling his shoulders trembling he peered up at his father, Kelas’ra’s grin still wide and gentle. “Happy Name Day, My Heart.” He repeated, pulling him close. “I hope this was memorable. And I hope we are to have many many more together.”

“Right back at you.” Sniffling, he clutched the book tight and leaned into the one armed hug, the both of them silently watching the waves crashing along the shore, the stars shimmering like spun glass in the cloudless sky. “Next time though, I get to choose where we go.”

“That’s fair.” Kelas’ra laughed once more. “Next time, then. Next time.”

[shepherd-to-the-stars]

FFxiv Write - Prompt #5 (Cutting Corners)

For the record, Kaleh Vashai was not short on gil. Not at all. 

She simply… wanted to gather these herbs for herself. No other reason. 

Regardless of any other reason for doing so, she did in fact enjoy these outings into the field. The love of nature her mother instilled in both herself and her siblings would be one that stuck with them always, and it was that very love of nature that made such field work far from a chore in her eyes. 

Instead, she always enjoyed those reasons to travel afield, gathering supplies the others may have need of in the Guild. Even now, if she had the choice between paying for something she could otherwise find for herself, and gathering it with her own two hands, she would always choose the latter. 

Always. 

Of course, she wouldn’t travel alone. At her side, her Chocobo walked along with her down these familiar paths. “Just a little farther, and then we can take a rest,” she promised, resting her hand on the side of the bird’s head for a moment, receiving a brief chirp of a “kweh” in response. 

As she had promised, Kaleh came to a stop at a small clearing close to her destination, and allowed for the bird to find a place to lay down for the moment. She herself set about putting together a campfire and doing a cursory examination of their surroundings. Once certain of the relative safety, she went to join her Chocobo, laying down with her head resting against the bird’s side, staring up at the sky. 

Naps were always her preferred choice when on the road. The shorter the better. They were easier to find time for within the day, and usually gave her a large enough burst of energy to get through her next task or two. Especially when out in the field; even with her careful search of the area, anything could happen. A nap was quicker to wake from, and she’d be ready at a moment’s notice to act.

Not to mention she wasn’t alone. Kaleh’a kweh-ed softly in his sleep, and she laughed just a little, before joining her bird for a brief respite.

⊱ ��━━ .⋅❈⋅. ━━━ ⊰⊱ ━━━ .⋅❈⋅. ━━━ ⊰

When Kaleh awoke, it was ahead of her Chocobo. The bird was still slumbering, not quite as settled into her routine of quick naps just yet. Which was fine, really. She could handle the next stretch of travel by herself. The area the two had for a camp was still safe and secure, so in theory it would make an ideal return location before heading back to town. 

With that determined, she got up slowly and silently, taking great care not to wake the bird, and set out alone for the location. 

She’d heard a little about the perilla leaves of Thavnair, and had determined, given the medicinal properties, they’d make for a good supply to keep on hand for both emergencies and simply in general. And seeing as she truly did enjoy the gathering process, and the chance to be amongst nature, it would make for a nice afternoon out. 

So it was that Kaleh made her way towards the location she’d been directed to by the citizens of Palaka’s Stand, crossing the bridge to head up to the cliffside where the herb bushes grew. Rain had started to pour, but it wasn’t anything she wasn’t accustomed to for work conditions. It didn’t take long to reach the bushes, and once there, she readied her scythe for the gathering. 

The work may be a touch monotonous, but she enjoyed it nonetheless. If anything, the pattern was soothing and meditative, though alchemy work was more so meditative than this. 

But gathering was a necessity, and so she worked carefully and with a practiced ease. Of course, working near a cliffside, and during a rainstorm was a recipe for disaster. One she was aware of, and yet her need to save some gil and cut some corners (even if she truly enjoyed this) had meant her focus wound up being more on one thing and less on another. 

The rain had caused mud to form, and one wrong swing of her scythe left her slipping, and being as close to the cliffside as she was…

She barely had enough time to register the feeling of weightlessness before she was flying through the air, crashing hard against the ground on one leg and the sharp feeling of pain racing up from her ankle prompted a sharp but brief cry of pain. And of course, with her footing as uneven as it was, it led to further slippage on the muddy ground, stumbling and falling to the ground, and sliding against the slick surface. 

Before she could experience freefall again, she felt feathers against her back, and a loud “Kweh!” in her ear. Shock colored her expression, and Kaleh looked over her shoulder to be met with the familiar figure of her Chocobo, pushing her back up to her feet by his head gently. Just as she finished getting to her feet, the pain returned in her ankle, and she bit back a wince, keeping one of her arms around the bird’s head and neck. 

Immediately, the bird grew concerned, and she forced a pain-filled smile to her face. “It’s alright, I just took a tumble. I didn’t want to wake you.” 

More distressed noises came from Kaleh’a, and the Miqo’te looked on in surprise as she watched the Chocobo raise a leg and green magic surged around the two. Some of the pain began to ease up, though she still kept herself braced on her companion. 

“I promise, everything will be fine. Let’s head to Radz-at-Han, we can collect more after the storm passes.” She says, trying to reassure the bird before he can worry further, and carefully eases herself onto the back of the Chocobo. 

A chirugan in the city could probably help further, even if there’d be a scolding to come for such a foolish, easy mistake to make. She just hoped Y’shtola or G’raha would be otherwise occupied elsewhere when she arrived. 

Otherwise she’d be in for far worse of a scolding. 

Lesson learned, all the same, and she would not make that mistake again. 

[ffxv-convos]

The sight of the hurting blonde made her tremble. She quickly fumbled in her schoolbag for an antiseptic spray and a chocobo patterned band aid, then she moved hurriedly to him. "Uh. Let me see." Prompto flinched at the burning sensation of the spray. She gently placed the band aid over the wound and paused, hesitating. She blushed before kissing it better. "T-there. We, mm, we can start now." ~* Honey.

“OWIE!! That hurts!~”

The little tears persisted through your first aid. The little chocobos made him feel a little better. He blushed after you kissed his boo boo.

“I’ll feel a lot better now!”

He hugged you again then took his seat beside you.

[charlottedabookworm]

cruellest cut ficlet

When Weskham woke to prepare breakfast, Cor was missing.

It wasn't anything unusual, having happened more times than Weskham could count over the course of their trip (Cor was an early riser, much like Weskham himself, and often slipped out of the tent to train rather than stay in the warmth), but it still made his heart skip a beat.

Only a week ago, after all, had their young friend slipped back into their camp after days missing - covered in blood and clutching a sword like a lifeline, tears slipping down his face as he shook uncontrollably.

Or, their not-so-young friend, as they had been able to piece together from Cor's frenzied words; little of which made sense.

So soon after his last disappearance, Cor's absence from the tent was enough to send a spark of worry down his spine and it was only the near-silent scuffs of a man walking outside that prevented him from waking their Prince and companions.

And yet, exiting the tent, Weskham couldn't help but wish he had.

For Cor was seated before the chocobos that they had hired for this portion of their journey, Regis wishing to visit some out of the way ruins that the regalia would not be able to access, and the expression on his face was so alike that that graced his face a week ago that he paused.

Grief, he had named it then. Cor was grieving. For what, he hadn't known and hadn't asked - the rage and exhaustion that had lined itself onto the young face, aging it decades, had prevented him doing so – but he had been certain it was grief.

Looking at Cor now, Weskham realised while that he wasn’t wrong, he wasn’t right either.

There was grief there, yes, and exhaustion, but more than that Weskham would call the emotion there desolate heartbreak.

“Cor,” he called gently, unknowing as to whether Cor would want him to see him like this, let alone approach him in this situation. Loyal as he was, their friend was closed off about himself, sharing only the barest titbits of his past. He didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, especially so soon after his encounter with the Blademaster.

But Cor just glanced at him briefly before turning back to the chocobo he was petting, the supposed teenager seemingly uncaring even as Weskham approached and settled on the ground beside him.

The chocobo, a yellow, kweh-ed in greeting.

He ran a hand briefly through bright feathers in response, careful not to touch his friends – shaking, he noted in the back of his mind, worry growing – hand.

They sat in silence for several long moments, him watching the horizon as the sun rose while Cor ran trembling fingers through the warm feathers of the chocobo’s head, which was pressed against his chest.

“My husband loved chocobo’s,” he said suddenly into the silence and Weskham fought not to startle at the sudden words or how they shook, turning just enough to see the twist of his lips and the darkness in his eyes; all of his attention on his friend even as he kept his eyes away for fear of Cor falling silent. Because, if he wanted to talk, if he needed to talk, then Weskham would gladly listen.

Internally, he revised the mental age that they had estimated - in the dark after Cor had fallen asleep, sword still clutched to his chest, speaking in whispers as they had tried to make sense of what they had just seen – up by several years if Cor had been married long enough to lose him.

“He had a yellow, just like this one, but because he was an idiot who should never have been allowed to name anything she was called Obsidian,” Cor laughed, short and sharp, like it was tearing its way out of his throat, and it turned into a choked sob halfway through. “He had a black he called Hyperion too, he loved to call for one of them and then watch people’s faces as they realised which name went to which chocobo. But he loved those birds,” he shook his head, burying it in the feathers before him.

It didn’t hide the tears. Or his next words. “And so did our son.”

Weskham stilled, refusing to flinch away from the chocked off heartbreak in his friend’s tone even as his own heart broke for him. A husband and a child and Cor had obviously lost them both and they had never known - and would likely have not believed him if he attempted to tell them before the events of a week previous.

He ached for Cor.

The estimated age was also pushed up by several more years. Looking at Cor’s face, knowing that he had had a husband and a child, he suddenly couldn’t believe that Cor was less than thirty. Possibly even closer to Cid’s age than any of them would have considered.

But the aged grief and tired loss and aching desolation written on too-young features made the possibility far easier to believe.

“I miss them,” Cor whispered, not lifting his head. And Weskham had no idea if he meant his family or the chocobos that they had once owned, but instinct told him that it was both and more besides.

They sat there in silence, the three of them, Cor with his head buried in the yellow’s feathers and Weskham a silent sentinel beside them, offering comfort in the only way that he believed Cor would accept.

They sat there until the sun was bright in the sky and their companions began to stir in the tent and only then, did they separate to complete their tasks.

(Later, when Cor left to scout ahead, Weskham mentioned to the other’s that he believed Cor to be closer to Cid’s age but made no mention of what Cor had told him, of the unnamed husband and son that Cor loved so much even now, no matter how much they pressed him.

It wasn’t his secret to tell)

[the-blind-geisha]

"Hmm. Interesting. Maybe it would be fruitful to have the males dress in female garments at some point.. Later." - Demiurge

[smitten-miqitten]

Just in Case (Cid’s Perspective)

Cid always hated this part. Sending his invincible hero off to face yet another monstrosity. This time, too, her foe's freedom is largely his fault.  She, and everyone else it seems, would argue that unleashing Omega was a necessity. Era in particular would seek to share the blame for releasing it, or even try to shoulder the blame completely. 'If I had only stopped Ilberd in time', or some rot.

He was not sending her without aid, that's his consolation. She had the Omega Jammer (she had laughed at the name), which could exploit Omega's innate weakness. She also had him; he could observe the fight from the monitors and guide her. One saving grace of their past trials was that now, with all the readings he had studied and fights he had watched, he (and Nero, he supposed) was just about the only person who knew exactly how strong Era is and what she could do.

 He knew what hits she could take and what she could not, what defenses she could breach and what she would need outside help for. Her vast aether reserves and uncanny aether control served to greatly augment her physical strength on a subconscious level, despite her slender build. On a conscious level, she would use those reserves to cast red magic, a dilute form of both white and black magic (ought it not be grey magic, then?). And she was clever. She could spot any weakness, no matter how small. Her preternatural reflexes are due in part to the Echo, or so she claimed. Unfortunately the Echo doesn't show on the readings, so he cannot confirm this.

Part of his concern was that Omega had all of this information too. Only the Echo might go unaccounted for. Thus, Cid was worried. He had every confidence in her, of course, but even she was not infallible.

“Come back safe, you hear me?” He stood no more than a fulm from her, looking her dead in the eye.

Era smiled at him, “I always do. You know that. You make sure of that. Have I ever lost with you fighting alongside me?” Cid preened a little at this, it was true. Whatever else they were or weren't, they made for an excellent team.

Era seemed lost in thought for a moment, brows furrowing, lavender blue eyes looking off to the distance. Her lips pursed, as if she were trying to make up her mind about something.

When her eyes met his once more, they were filled with a strange determination.

“I will be fine, but… just in case…”

She reached for him, one hand on his arm and the other on his right cheek. On his left she gave him a short kiss, one that could be mistaken for a simple act of friendship were it not for how tightly her hand gripped his sleeve.

Cid was taken aback. He had suspected that she had begun to return his feelings, despite the fact he had kept his to himself as best he could, but somehow never imagined she fully understood her own. She was exceptionally bright and was far from immature, but there were certain areas (particularly emotional ones) where she was entirely and painfully oblivious.

Era took his shock poorly, mistaking it for offense. She turned away quickly to mask her disappointment, readying to leave for battle.

No, this isn't right. She can't leave like that. He reached for her arm, spun her back to face him (perhaps a little too roughly), and kissed her.

A gentle kiss, long and sweet, though with steadily more intensity until he had to force himself to pull away. To avoid getting carried away, to see her expression, to see that she was truly alright with this.

Era's eyes took on a wanting, hungry look he had never seen in her before. She kissed him back, one hand on his face and the other wrapped in his hair. It was obvious that while she seemed to know what to do, she had not actually done so before. Her clumsiness was easily made up for by fervor, however, and Cid certainly had no complaints. He'd have been more than happy to just keep kissing her forever, until they both were experts in the art, giant murder robot be dammed. How long had he wanted this?  He wrapped his arms more tightly around her, holding her as close as he could and deepening their kiss.

Alpha, clearly unable to read the air, killed the mood with a terse 'Kweh!'. Era pulled away quickly, as if snapping out of a trance, her face a furious shade of blush. He could feel a similar heat on his own cheeks. 

Cid sighed at his sudden misfortune, and begrudgingly returned his attention to the reason they were all here. Damned Omega. He placed his hands firmly on her shoulders, a part of him still wishing to pull her close again, and looked into the eyes that all of a sudden seemed to have quite a bit of trouble meeting his own.

When finally she could look at him, he spoke seriously, “You had better come back. Safe and sound. I will be here, and aid you via the monitors. I mean it; I won’t be returning alone. Hells, I doubt Omega would allow it anyhow. No use for failed experiments after all… The point is you will return. And we will have a quite a few things to discuss when we get back to Rhalgar’s… yes?”

Era nodded, still rather dumbfounded. She placed her hand on his ungloved one and squeezed. A gentle reassurance, a promise to return. He knew she meant it without her having to say; Era's actions had always spoken louder than her words. His lips and the spot where she had tugged his hair a bit too hard could now attest to that.

Alpha kweh' ed impatiently once more, jumping and flapping for emphasis. Era gave Cid a warm smile and another tentative peck on the cheek.

Cid wished her his customary “Godsspeed”as she set off. He took up his place at the monitor, determined to see this fight through and Era back safe.

...........................

Alpha's perspective, the poor baby:

"Kweh? What the heck are they doing? Are they fighting? We have Omega to fight, there's no time for them to be fighting as well! Kweh! Wait, now they're mad at me. What did I do?!

[dragoon-of-all-trades]

Tell me the things (if you wanna)

Go on anon and tell me what you want your fictional lover to do with you (or OC). I just wanna gush at lovey stuff right now and spread uplifting thoughts during this rough year. 

Check tags for fandoms or ideas in general I’ll do

[thestageyshelf]

SOLD 🎭 Julius Caesar @ Bridge Theatre 2018 (#194)

Title: Julius Caesar

Venue: Bridge Theatre

Year: 2018

Condition: Good condition

Author: William Shakespeare

Director: Nicholas Hytner

Cast: Adjoa Andoh, David Calder, Leaphia Darko, Rosie Ede, Michelle Fairley, Leila Farzad, Fred Fergus, Zachary Hart, Wendy Kweh, David Morrissey, Mark Penforld, Abraham Popoola, Sid Sagar, Nick Sampson, Hannah Stokely, Ben Whishaw, Kit Young,

FIND ON EBAY HERE

[fandomthoughts]

Saw Julius Caesar at the Bridge Theatre Three Times, and met Ben Whishaw. My review.

The new Bridge Theatre is beautiful. The interior is reminiscent of the candles from the Great Hall at Hogwarts, and there’s a good collection of bites that you can order -- from raw vegetables (sardines, organic carrots, and organic turnips is one dish) to an order of half-a-dozen freshly-baked madeleines. And walking out the doors, you’re immediately confronted with an intimate view of Tower Bridge. 

I had standing “mob” tickets to see Julius Caesar, and was only supposed to go see it once. However, I happened to be free the night before, and decided to treat myself. I’m glad I did, because I discovered there are “good” and “bad” spots to be standing -- especially for someone who isn’t very tall.

SPOILERS BELOW

For example, if you want to be witness to both David Calder (Caesar) and Ben Whishaw (Brutus)’s expressions during the stand-off right before “Et tu, Brute?”, a good spot is near the side of the raised platform close to Ceasar’s throne. (Incidentally, it’s also a good place to get splattered with a little stage blood.)

If you want to get a good view of the final confrontation between Brutus and Lucius, don’t stand right near the collection of jumbled trench metal that’s part of the war staging; you’ll only be able to see the actors’ backs.

If you want to get a good view of Brutus and Cassius’ confrontation during the stress of war, a good side to be is at the far end (where Caesar’s throne used to be), not at the side closer to the entrances. 

For the record, the stage management crew did an excellent job squeezing amongst the crowd and shuffling everyone around. Platforms fell and raised themselves; new rugs and desks and sofas appeared seemingly out of thin air. When the jagged trench metal appeared to divide the stage during the battle scenes, I was shouted at “Do you want to die?” as an incentive to get out of the way. Stage crew discreetly and expertly handed out at least two or three different types of posters that members of the crowd raised at appropriate key moments of the play, which was impressive to see from the vantage point of the gallery seats, and I know this because  --

Ah, yes. Later, I went back a third time and watched the performance from the seats. :)

If it’s at all possible, I would recommend both ticket types.

From the “mob,” nothing can beat the experience of:

A) watching the actors’ expressions up close, meters away

B) watching David Calder, Michelle Fairley (a most excellent Cassius), and Ben Whishaw spit at each other as part of their passionate enunciation, and hoping not to get in the way of the spittle. (I forgot this was a thing!)

C) I will say again: watching the actors’ expressions up close. 

However, there were a few things that I missed from the vantage point of the mob. Until I was in the seats, I didn’t realize that there was an actual jeep that drove out in the last scene, and I didn’t notice the "fire” burning near the entrance. From the seats, I was also able to notice better the stage changes -- such as the actors rushing to throw furniture into a crate on the cusp of the last stage change.

Watching Ben Whishaw live

This was my first time seeing Ben Whishaw act live. Most notably, I saw in Brutus echoes of Richard II from The Hollow Crown (his head shake) and his character from Lilting (his expression of sudden grief mourning Portia’s death). Also noticed the darting eyes and rippling of emotion during Lucius’ guitar song, reminiscent of at least some notable scenes from London Spy and the monologue in Queers. 

Struck me how practiced acting can be (like the darting eyes), though of course it takes skill to make it look natural.

I heard one commentator say that Ben Whishaw gave a masterclass in acting, and I am tempted to agree based on his micro-expressions and micro-movements. Randomly, I remember one particular scene where he tapped someone naturally on the shoulder, when all the other actors were standing still.

On the rest of the cast

Michelle Fairley and Adjoa Andoh gave very strong performances as Cassius and Casca. 

Cassius felt like the lead of the play, and a little like Cassandra: she had the wisest ideas, but everyone listened to the ineffectual, overly intellectual Brutus over her. 

David Morrissey played a convincing populist Mark Antony. 

Adjoa Andoh as Casca had fewer lines than the leads, but delivered arguably the best (snarkiest) lines and was able to draw out a reaction from the audience every time. 

David Calder played a believably old/retiring Caesar lured by the temptation of the crown.

Abe Popoola played Trebonius, one of the conspirators. Most notably, he was the lead singer in the band playing at the beginning of the show. He’s a damn good singer.

Leaphia Darko played a believably hurt Portia, wife of Brutus, who had the challenging task of going through a wide range of emotions in one short scene.

Wendy Kweh played a believable (though tragic) Calpurnia, wife of Caesar. It was also very cool seeing her as one of the soldiers in Brutus’ army.

Fred Fergus, who played Lucius, played an absolutely beautiful yet sleepy cover of Nick Drake’s Day is Done. It was short, but I thought it better than the original.

Kit Young I did not realize was Octavius until the very end, but he did a great job.

Sid Sagar was great as various characters. (Also: was he Cinna the Poet? I couldn’t tell.)

Hannah Stokely and Rosie Ede both had impressive stage voices.

END OF SPOILERS

I discovered Ben Whishaw rather recently; half a year ago, I fell and tripped into the James Bond fandom, and suddenly found myself a fan too of the actor who played Q, for:

A) his expressiveness/ability to emote, and

B) how he’s come across in the interviews over the years -- not as a typically gregarious actor, but as a more relatable person who’s a little awkward in interviews, and has been described by interviewers as closed-off. (Imagine that: a shy actor! Okay, I don’t believe for a minute that this 30-something-year-old actor is actually shy now, but my point is that his ability to transform himself in performances is inspiring.)

Was also inspiring to learn that Ben Whishaw’s breakthrough performance of Hamlet in 2004 inspired other now-arguably-more-famous actors to follow in his footsteps, from Kit Harrington to Eddie Redmayne to Joe Alwyn.

Meeting a favourite actor in person

There was a small roar of excited chatter when Ben Whishaw stepped out, and all at once he was surrounded by a crowd of people asking for signatures and photos. Many of them were young women.

It was interesting to see the discrepancy: a few of the other actors (not the leads) were also there, and people walked up to them, but they didn’t get nearly as much attention. A couple of the actors looked as if they were there for moral support or waiting for him to finish so they could get a drink all together later. 

Clearly, Ben has many fans. Then I heard one young man ask him about hearing that he had been having trouble memorizing lines for this play (which made me cringe a little -- what a question to ask), which he refuted. 

More pens borrowed, more photos taken. 

To be honest, I felt a little bad: the actor looked pretty tired in the middle of one group conversation, and wasn’t making eye contact with some immediate people waiting to meet him nearby.

What does one say to a favourite actor? To a celebrity?

When I eventually got the chance to approach, I admitted that I was a fan, told him that I was looking forward to his future work, and thanked him for being a wonderful performer. Felt weird to ask for an autograph or photo, so I left it at that. 

Last Thoughts

Seeing Julius Caesar three times underscored the impressive amount of repetitive work put into the production every time -- five or six days a week for twelve weeks, sometimes with two performances a day.

What a fun production it must be to be a part of. I envy the cast!

[thefloorisbalaclava]

I saw that request were open again so I thought I'd send one in. I've had the idea in my head but I can't write for the life of me. So can I please get the Final Fantasy boys (or whoever you feel like writing for) taking their s/o out to ride a Chocobo for the first time? Like she's never ridden one before. Thanks in advance ~

This was such a fun request to write! I hope you don’t mind that I went with Prompto for this!

You had stopped listening a while ago, but he rambled onexcitedly. It wasn’t that he was boring you, you just found yourself gettinglost in those big, blue eyes of his constantly. You sighed and rested your chinin your hand watching his expression change, his eyes lighting up even more.Suddenly, he waved his hand in your face and you sat up, blinking rapidly.

“Are you even listening to me?” Prompto asked, looking slightlydefeated.

“I…yeah, of course!” you lied.

“Okay, what did I say then?” He crossed his arms over hischest and sat back.

You looked down at your hands. “Uh…you said…you love me?”You twisted your face as you looked back up at him.

“No…I mean, yeah, I love you but that’s not what I said!” Hepouted.

“You know, you have the most beautiful eyes I have everseen,” you said.

He smiled sheepishly then frowned. “You’re trying todistract me!”

“I am not! I’m serious.”

“Well, if you were listening you would have heard me saythat I have a surprise for you.” He grinned, feeling proud of himself. Heleaned back in his chair and locked his fingers together then put his feet up.

“A surprise?!”

“Mhm.” He nodded, looking at the ceiling.

You stood and walked over to him. “What is it?!”

He wasn’t expecting you to do that and almost toppledbackward along with the chair. After regaining his composure, he spoke. “If Itell you, it won’t be a surprise anymore.”

“Are you gonna give me a hint at least?”

He pretended to think about it for a minute. “Uh…nope!” Helaughed when you pouted. You leaned in closer to him like you were going in fora kiss at which he puckered his lips and closed his eyes.

“I love your freckles,” you said.

He opened one eye. “You do?”

“Yup.”

He smiled and closed his eye again, but you didn’t kiss him.When he opened his eyes again you were already at the door. “Hey! Where’s mykiss?”

“You’ll get one after I get my surprise.”

“That’s not fair!” You shrugged and opened the door. “Anyway,I’m gonna call you when it’s time to go. I already asked Iggy to drive us. Makesure you wear something you can get dirty in.” He winked as you walked out thedoor.

Just what was he up to?

*A FEW HOURS LATER*

“Specs and I are waiting in the Regalia! Let’s go!” Promptosaid as soon as you answered the phone. Before you could answer, he hung up andyou rolled your eyes. That aside, you were excited, so you put on your bootsand ran outside.

Riding in the Regalia was a treat and the top was down todayso you couldn’t wait. “Hey Iggy!” you greeted as you climbed into the backseat.

“Hello, dear. I trust you’ve been well?” Ignis turned tolook at you with a small smile.

“Yeah, but I’d be even better if I knew where you weretaking us,” you said innocently.

Ignis chuckled. “My lips are sealed.”

“HA!” Prompto teased, looking back at you and sticking histongue out. “Where’s my ‘hello’?” he asked, but you only stuck your tongue outat him in return. He made a face then held some fabric out to you as Ignisstarted the car. “Put this on.”

You took it from him and examined it. “What is it?”

“A blindfold.”

“Prompto, if you wanted to do that we could have stayed home,” you teased.

Wide-eyed, he looked at Ignis then back at you, scandalized “B-babe…” His cheeks turned red and yougiggled.

“I have to put it on now?”

“I’ll tell you when,” he said and turned around just asIgnis started driving. You were able to enjoy the view for a while before Promptoturned to you and told you to put the blindfold on. “Don’t worry, I’ll be yourguide.”

“Oh, I feel much better now.” You heard Ignis laugh then thecar came to a stop.

“We’re here! C’mon!” Prompto grabbed your hand to help youout of the car. Almost immediately you tripped over something and landedagainst his chest. “See? I gotcha.” He kissed your forehead and pulled you along.“So, I know you said you’ve never seen one up close before and I wanted tochange that…”

“What are you—”

Kweh! You gasped asthe sound got louder the more you walked. Kweh!

“Is that a…” You pulled the blindfold off, “…Chocobo!”

Prompto looked at you then the Chocobos then back at you, asmile plastered on his face. “Surprise!” He threw his hands up and the Chocobosseemed to celebrate with him. You both laughed, and you reached out to touchone.

“They’re so cute!”

“Here, feed ‘em.” He handed you some food and you held itout towards the bird while Prompto made his way over to another. “There’s asecond part to the surprise,” he said, petting the Chocobo and smirking over atyou.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup, we’re going for a ride!”

“Wait…what?”

“We’re gonna ride a Chocobo.” He hummed the song as he gaugedyour reaction.

You backed away from it. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.I’ve never done it before.”

“First time for everything.” He took your hand and you lookedat him. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You nodded slowly. “Okay.” He helped you onto one and youheld on for dear life as it moved forward slightly. “Prompto…”

“Hold on.” He climbed onto another and made his way over toyou. “I’m right here. We’ll take it nice and slow for now, okay?”

“Y-yeah…okay.”

He rode beside you, looking calm and collected while youwere screaming inside. “See? It’s not so bad.” He flashed you a toothy grin andyou couldn’t help but to smile back. Your Chocobo kwehed loudly and you reached forward to pet its head. Promptowatched you all the while, snapping photos here and there without you evennoticing.

The sun had just started to set, turning the sky alldifferent shades of pink and purple. “Wow,” you whispered.

“Nice, huh?” he asked, putting the camera down so he couldappreciate the sunset fully.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you, Prompto.” He laughed shyly, and youwere sure you had never heard a better sound.

“You really like it? Like…are you enjoying this?”

“I am. I love it. I love you.”

He fiddled with his camera then looked at you. “I love youtoo.” You rode for a little longer then decided that you should probably getback before it got too dark. “Race you there! Winner gets a kiss!”

“Prompto…I don’t think I should…” He shook his head and wasabout to change his mind when you started to make your Chocobo sprint. “I guessI’m a fast learner!” you called back to him. He laughed loudly and followedyou. He didn’t care whether he won or lost because either way he would get tokiss you and there was nothing better than that.