#moren the librarian

[wandererorion]

Auraugust Day 4: Primal

Someone once posted a WoL QotD asking, if your WoL was the Dominant for a Primal (a la FFXVI) what Primal would it be. For Orion, it's gotta be the Phoenix. Along with a general reverence for life and drive to preserve and heal that came along with his profession, Orion has also developed a bit of an obsession with resurrection.

Though he has yet to find an ethical way to resurrect Ardbert, he still hasn't given up hope. This drive is one of the reasons his interactions with Emet Selch are so fraught. Orion understands the desperate drive to bring back the people he loves. He gets why Emet Selch would sacrifice everything, even his own soul, to reverse the Sundering. However, Orion can't justify the continued sacrifice of millions, possibly billions of lives in order to restore ancient Elpis.

A short fic about Orion's time on the First is under the cut!

Prompt List | Yesterday's Post

“Orion?” Moren’s voice felt artificially loud in the silent corner of the library where he found the lanky Au Ra folded up at a reading table, covered in leather bound tomes and scrolls of parchment. “What are you doing in the library at this hour?”

“Mmm?” Orion muttered, golden eyes not even twitching up from the page he was studying. “What time is it? It’s hard to tell how much time passes when the light never changes around here.” 

“Closer to breakfast than dinner, that’s for certain,” Moren said as he stepped forward to start placing bookmarks in open books and neatly stacking them at the end of the table. He tried not to pry, but he noticed many of the texts related to aether’s effect on the soul, theories of reincarnation and resurrection, and Novrandt legends of various heroes who had borne the moniker of Warrior of Light. Esoteric topics of study, even for the Crystarium’s resident dimension hopping scholar. 

“Wait, really?” Orion’s head finally popped up to actually look Moren in the face. “What are you doing up and around this late then?” 

Moren smirked. Leave it to Orion to be more concerned for Moren’s sleeping habits than his own. “My own sleep cycle is a bit delayed, compared to the rest of the Crystarium. We tend to get more visitors in the second half of the waking hours, so it suits my workload to have my mid-day when we’re at peak traffic.” He gently pulled the weighty book from Orion’s hands, marking his place and adding it to the stack. “But even I was wrapping up things for the evening. So it is more than time for you to get some rest, my friend. The books aren’t going anywhere. I’ll keep your reading list in reserve behind my desk and you can retrieve them at a more reasonable hour.”

Orion blinked owlishly, and then took his glasses off to rub at his eyes. “I suppose I do feel a bit foggy,” he said. “And famished! Twelve, when did I last eat? Kendra is going to kill me.” He slid his chair back and stood to his full height, arms stretched above his head. Even after months of his quiet presence in the library, Moren was still struck by how Orion towered above everyone, including himself. 

“Darkness forfend! Best not give that fierce fiance of yours reason to come after you!” Moren laughed. He hefted the stack of books up against his chest. 

“Wait! Let me help,” Orion reached out to grab the stack from Moren’s arms. “It’s my mess. You can take the scrolls.”

“Thank you, Orion, that is very thoughtful,” Moren said. 

“You said you were wrapping up for the evening as well, yes?” Orion asked as he followed Moren up the stairs to his bird's nest of a desk. “I can walk you back to the Pendants.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to wait for me,” Moren said. “It’s not like I’ll be accosted by sin eaters at the Crystal Plaza.” 

“Fair,” Orion scoffed. “Think of it as making sure I don’t get distracted and actually get my ass to bed.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Moren said. “It’s the least I can do to make sure our heroes actually get some rest between catastrophes.” 

Twenty minutes of shuffling books and double-checking a few more corners of the library for any additional strays, Moren and Orion began their walk towards the Pendants. They strolled in comfortable silence until they reached the sparsely populated late night markets. The murmuring of the few night workers and insomniacs at The Wandering Stairs wafted through the still air. Moren didn’t wish to break the peace, but curiosity still picked at the edges of his mind. 

“I don’t mean to pry,” Moren finally said, “but I was wondering what research has you up at all hours the very night after you return from your adventures in the field. I would think both you and Kendra would do nothing but sleep and eat for the next two days.”

Orion sighed and scratched at the patch of scales on the back of his neck, “I’ll be honest. I’m physically exhausted, but I can’t turn my mind off. I’ve been preoccupied with this problem since shortly after arriving at the Crystarium. It’s hard to explain succinctly, but suffice to say that I have been wondering at the feasibility of resurrecting a person outside the normal few minutes just after death, some battle healers can do. I’ve seen conjurers and scholars perform true miracles on the recently deceased, but common wisdom stipulates that resurrection must take place within a handful of minutes after death and with direct access to the corpse of the deceased. Outside those parameters, it is generally agreed that resurrection is impossible and even if it was possible, there are questions on whether or not it would be ethical. Could you resurrect a body, but miss the soul all together? What if you tried to resurrect someone who’s soul had already passed through the life stream and on to their next reincarnation? There is a tribe among my race back in the Source that believe that reincarnation isn’t instantaneous but will generally happen within a year of a person’s death. But now I have reason to believe that sometimes the soul could linger, conscious, but incorporeal for years after! And if the soul is still intact that long after death, could it be transplanted into a new body? Could reincarnation be forced? What kind of effect would that have on the bonds of mind, body, and soul? What kind of power would that require? If manifesting the artificial soul of a primal wreaks havoc on the surrounding aether, what would reincarnating a full soul do? It’s just a morass of unknowns and the more I learn, the more I understand why no one has tried it but I - I can’t let it rest because…. Because we’ve already lost so many and if I could bring back just one, I -”

Orion paused on the path through the gardens around the pendants and stared up at the cursed sky beyond the crystalline panels of the roof overhead. His face was pinched in distress and fatigue. He had just spoken more words all strung together than Moren thought he had ever heard the taciturn man say in the entire time he had known him.

Offering what little comfort he could, Moren stretched a hand up to rest on Orion’s shoulder. He could feel plates of scales shift against the soft linen of his shirt as Orion reached up to rub both hands against his face, knocking his glasses slightly askew. Letting out a wry scoff, Orion straightened his glasses and gently patted Moren’s hand.

“I am no aetherologist, and certainly no expert on what happens to a soul after death,” Moren said. “But I do know that anyone who you cared that deeply for you, would be the kind of person that would not wish you to work yourself to the bone for their sake. You’re a good man, Orion, and I know you care deeply and feel a duty to take care of those you love. However, I’ve heard the chirurgeon's say time and again that you can’t heal others if you’re not taking care of yourself as well.” 

Orion looked a bit abashed as he nodded, “Nymian scholars had a saying like that as well, ‘The first job of a scholar is to stay alive. The second is to keep your marines alive.’”

“Sounds like timeless wisdom.” Moren gave Orion’s shoulder one more gentle squeeze before setting off towards the pendants again. “And with that in mind, let’s get you to your chambers before you keel over.” 

“Thank you, Moren,” Orion said as he followed him. “I’m not much of a talker, but sometimes it feels good to get all the pent up thoughts outside of my mind for a moment. 

“Any time, friend,” Moren said. “Your intellectual ventures are almost as rousing as your physical ones!”

“Generally a little less violent, thank Nhaama,” Orion said.

[ffxivxd]

Moren Morkirk is the Head librarian of the Cabinet of Curiosity. As a Hume and Crystarium native, he's been an avid reader since he learned his letters and was known to frequent the Cabinet more days than not.

[elizabethrobertajones]

Actually the real Voynich manuscript of ffxiv is what the pixies do with Urianger's notes he may have left lying around the Bookman's Shelves. Eventually they do make their way to Moren or perhaps his descendant Librarians. Out of order, all provenance long lost, written by someone familiar with an entirely different understanding of aether and magic desperately writing notes and categorising the First from the eyes of an alien scholar whose perception of the very nature of magic was up is down until halfway through his writing.

[rosendark]

My emotional support librarian man during Shadowbringers, bb Moren <3

[ladyramora]

Familiar faces

[[MORE]]

Moren can feel her gaze on him. An intensity that was very much unnerving. Nonetheless, he stumbles through answering her questions with only minimal stuttering. Wicked white, she was intimidating!

"If... If you should like to hear the story again," Moren stammers with a nervous smile, "I would be happy to tell it."

The woman tilts her head, eyes narrow, and then leans forward into his personal bubble.

Moren dips akwardly backward, heart thudding with nerves.

"Your face," the Exarch's guest says with a twist of her lips. "It vexes me."

Moren feels his face flush in embarrassment. His face...? "I... I beg your pardon?"

"Say something for me, will you?"

It is more of a demand than a question, but Moren finds himself nodding anyway.

"Good," the woman says, and then quotes, "Mark me, savior of the savages. There will be a reckoning."

Moren blinks, but does as she asks. The low, threatening way she had voiced the words far different from the way he himself repeats them.

The woman sits back on her heels, a thoughtful hum on her lips.

"I'll be damned." She mutters, eyeing him thoughtfully.

Moren blinks at her, book clutched to his chest and face still flushed from her proximity. "...Might I ask your reasoning for that?"

The woman smiles. and it is far more friendly. She leans close enough to twirl a lock of his hair around her finger, gazing deep into his eyes like she could see into his soul.

Moren feels twice as nervous in the face of this interest.

"You have one of those faces."

Moren touches a hand to his face. "Do I?"

The woman grins, and Moren is a bit taken aback by the sharpness of that toothy smile.

"A face like yours could be a weapon."

The woman pulls away then, and Moren feels like he can breathe again.

"Nice to meet you, pretty boy."

Moren flushes, voice cracking in a way that makes his voice squeak, "It's Moren! N..not pretty boy!"

The woman tilts her head, repeating, "Moren," like she was savoring it on her tongue.

She nods once. "It suits you. See you later, pretty boy."

Moren is doubly flustered by her refusal to call him by his name. "It... It's Moren!" he calls after her, the breath leaving his lungs in anxiety as she vaults over the side of the railing instead of using the stairs like a normal person.

Moren rushes to the edge with his heart in his throat as he looks down. The woman had landed in a crouch, completely fine like she did this all the time, and looks up as he gazes down at her. She waves to him, and Moren helplessly waves back. Staring after her as she leaves.

The Crystal Exarch's guests were a strange lot.

[inexplicifics]

So when they ransacked Duke Velen's manor before burning it down did they maybe take the contents of his large unused library? It would be shame for all those books to have been needlessly destroyed. Kaer Moren library could finally be more that bestiarys and erotica! And that would increase the need for a librarian to sort it all out. I'm sure they also got all the torturing mage's notes and the contents of the old Dukes office for Treyse and Mouse! Who knows what horrible things were in there?

They may have taken some of the books, yes. They definitely took all the notes and most of the contents of the office.

I’ve got to get a librarian to Kaer Morhen, I really do. I guess I sort of feel a little silly about doing so, since I’m a librarian myself and I don’t know how much anyone else wants to read about putting a collection in order...

[fistsoflightning]

mune ga hachikire-sōde

my chest is about to burst.

                          gatheredfates’ [30 day WOL challenge] | prompt: letter 

just a lil bit of catharsis for me… sort-of kind-of a follow up to holy! also @to-the-voiceless​ i am So Sorry for this, thank you for letting me take the linkpearl idea from this fic but also i’m really sorry for the angst again??? that playlist you made for harudewah. i am Still losing my mind over it.

also CW: a’dewah definitely has an anxiety/panic attack and it’s. kinda hard for me to read through and i was the one who wrote it? just take caution since emotions are Messy!

[ao3 mirror] (the word count rounds to about 7.5k!)

“but i find that lately i've been crying like a tall child…  

...please, hurry, leave me, i can't breathe

please don't say you love me

mune ga hachikire-sōde

one word from you and i would

jump off of this ledge i'm on, baby

tell me "don't", so i can crawl back in”

- first love/late spring, mitski

it’s barely three nights after the last visit to the cabinet that a’dewah finds himself again holed up between shelves and books, studying potential ways for g’raha to infuse the damned auracite with his blood, and a’dewah has only just realized that his hands are shaking and he has a craving to teleport to doma on a whim. a small craving for salmon muffins tickles the back of his mind, but he shoves it aside.

“i suppose i should have expected this,” he sighs to no one in particular, a small wave of magic stopping the shivering in his fingers. if only he could heal away the rest. magic can only keep him running for so long, and to extend one’s waking hours like he does would be considered harmful at best and eventually fatal at worst, should he keep doing so.

whatever must be done to keep myself from doing something stupid.

it’s not hard to see him falling back into old patterns—of tiring himself out so he doesn’t think too hard about what he doesn’t want to dwell on, of slipping further and further into both avoiding his feelings and drowning in them. his old friend; that familiar hollow, needy feeling that chews at his sanity yet again as he keeps writing down formulas that might save g’raha from doing something rash that will absolutely earn him a beating from… well. a number of people in the future. that tiny, loud, intriguingly horrible idea that sits in the center of the empty warmth burning low in his chest like a lantern running on its last bits of oil.

an angry, huffy exhale escapes his otherwise tightly sealed lips. hells, that hollow feeling shouldn’t even be there in the first place; it’s not as if he had no source of comfort here on the first—he doesn’t need haruki’s attention like some fragile flower, he could just ask zaya or wyda for a hug if he really needed the warm feeling. he shouldn’t be needing to constantly argue with himself whether he should write a letter, or call, or do nothing at all.

really, what he should do is stop thinking about it, but here he is, squeezing his eyes shut and keeping his hands planted on the table. he shouldn’t want what he nearly destroyed this much, and yet—

greedy, he chides, forcing himself to hold the quill tighter so that it presses into the callus forming on the side of his finger; a quiet, grounding pain. not even elwin sounds this silly. ‘wanting’. he doesn’t particularly care for arcanima, but if it helps him in the game of tag he’s playing with his own feelings for what feels like the millionth time in his life…  

a’dewah keeps writing. reaches out for a book to his left, only flicking his eyes over for a moment to see the cover he needs, and then he sees the kanai-anzen omamori sitting on top of the very book he’d been meaning to crack open next, waiting from when zaya quietly snuck over to sit with him for a few bells.

great.

the prospect of slamming his head into the damned table and giving himself a dire enough concussion so that someone in this library gets the guts to drag him to chessamile and have her put him to sleep—preferably for a long, long time—grows more enticing every moment his brain spends convincing him that making a small, short call wouldn’t be so bad. so does the idea of finding a pouch of dream powder and using as sugar in his chamomile tea later even though he knows how lengthy a lecture he’ll receive from g’raha, alphinaud, y’shtola and lunya if he does try it.

y’shtola would be disappointed in me; looking for a simple way out instead of pushing forward, he thinks, lifting his quill from the page and glaring at the small ink pool in his usually neat (doman) handwriting. he’s still not accustomed to writing with a quill but eorzean shopkeeps don’t carry calligraphy brushes, especially not ones small enough for his needs. 

but someone in kugane might, he thinks and gods he just needs to get it over with otherwise he’ll never make it to tomorrow night with his sanity intact.

he leans back in the hard, wooden chair, running a hand through his too-tightly tied up hair until his fingertips brush the edges of his linkpearl earring, searching for the one that cools his burning hands like diving into a river. once he finds it, it’s almost too simple to thumb open a connection despite the larger-than-usual tug on his own aether, the gentle chiming as he waits leaving him to wonder if this was going to be another one of his mistakes. he takes a sip of his (cold, stale) tea, steals a glance back down at the damned arcanima circles, stares back up at the glass ceiling of the cabinet and counts the stars as he waits, still pushing away the wanting that suffocates his heartbeat.

the monotonous chimes give way to a whole lot of static and the quiet rustling of leaves in the wind, and a’dewah almost thinks he’s used the wrong linkpearl until a tired, gentle voice like lazy river water whispers, “hey, can you keep this quick? it’s kinda late, and i’ve had a pretty long day.”

“ruki,” a’dewah breathes out, sitting up straight in his chair as haruki gives out a small ah of surprise. his tea is definitely cold, but he feels warmed anyways, a jolt of energy restoring the clarity to his murky thoughts. “sorry, is it a bad time?”

“a little, but i really thought you were hana-chan, or tsukiko—sorry, mune fell asleep while we were out and i was a little preoccupied.” for a connection made across worlds, the quality isn’t all that bad—a result of zaya’s very long search for a good linkshell to gift him, probably—and through it he can hear running water, maybe a few splashes and the click of haruki’s sabatons against stone as he walks slowly. he’d have sped up, if a’dewah were actually there to see him. he must be at the docks of the enclave, walking home with mune cradled in his arms. “what’s up?”

“nothing, really. i just—” needed to hear your voice. wanted to take a bit of your time. craved the warm feeling that fills my chest anytime you laugh or call me sunshine. “i have a bit of down time, and thought i’d see if you were, uh, free to talk? we—last time i was dragged into treasure hunting before i’d got to catch up with you, so i was thinking we could, well, just talk.”

“for you? of course,” haruki says, and a’dewah nearly breathes out a sigh. “just lemme get mune in bed and we can ramble about our days, or… weeks? hey, is it night there too?”

a’dewah nearly says yes, but the chirping birds and first light outside the windows of the cabinet tell him otherwise… but if he says it’s early morning, like very early, will haruki just tell him to go to bed like everyone else? he lays his head down flat on the table, staring at the quill loose in his hand and the incomplete formula on the parchment in front of him longingly. he doesn’t want that. ah, and again; wanting.

“no,” he lies, steadying his voice. a little half-truth wouldn’t hurt him… hopefully. “it’s a little later than dawn, but it’s still morning.”

“er, sir a’dewah?” just his luck; moren comes around the side of the bookshelf, eyes worried and moss green hair tied into a bun—it seems the warmer weather was getting even to the recluse librarian. “the exarch requests you do sleep soon, partly on lady lanya’s behalf? i… don’t quite know how he knows your whereabouts, but he said something about requesting the help of a “hagane-san”... d-do you think he’s in need of chessamile’s sleep draughts again?”

a’dewah stifles a groan, because moren had thoroughly blown a massive hole in his lie and haruki would have heard him. plus—since when did lunya and g’raha know about his sleeping issues? why is g’raha threatening him with hanami? why is lunya so worried about him? he lifts his head from the table, somehow pulling himself together enough to smile back at moren.

“send him my deepest regards, and that i will as soon as i’ve finished here.” a’dewah points to the linkpearl earring gleaming lightly in the dim candlelight and then to his pile of papers, and moren nods before scurrying off, presumably to wherever g’raha is watching him from. gods, if he didn’t fear lunya’s wrath, he might have strongly suggested g’raha stuff it.

haruki pipes up after moren’s footsteps recede into the sounds of dawn, more worried than chiding when he says, “dewah—”

“i know, ruki, sorry, i was just—i’m in the middle of a formula and got stumped so i called instead,” a’dewah says sheepishly, picking up his quill and writing down a few more calculations before capping his inkwell. less so being stumped and more so not wanting to do it, really, but that was for him to know. “i’m getting out of the library, don’t raise your voice, remember mune has better hearing than you.” he always forgets that he isn’t a child anymore, somehow, with a booming voice and bigger lungs to talk with.

he hears a small sigh, the creaking of leather and a small squeak of metal hinges on a door accompanying it. almost amused, but still a little annoyed, and he can hear the new clack of metal boots hitting wood much clearer, the echoing distance quieter as haruki heads inside. “...go to bed; i’ll talk to you as much as you want once you’re in bed, ‘kay?”

“keep talking to me while i get back to the pendants,” he tries, a little desperate as he starts to clean his table, re-shelve the books and pick up his research. “and i promise i won’t make a stop at spagyrics to get g’raha more sleeping draughts.” a false threat; he’s not going to invite chessamile to worry herself over two miqo’te scholars losing sleep, but he… he needs haruki’s voice. wants the background noise as he makes a long walk to the other side of the crystarium, not wanting to risk aethernet travel bungling up his work. “just any old story will do.”

“sure,” haruki says, resigned and soft enough to make a’dewah feel like melting. “hey, something kinda funny happened in kugane today…”

as a’dewah quickens his stride so that he might cross the crystarium faster, passing by the aetheryte crystal that can’t take him home no matter how hard he tries, haruki regales him with the story of mune running off (worrying) and finding a great big green chicken (even more worrying) that was apparently the pet of a gigantic man named yojimbo (oh, he’s heard this tale before, with different names) and haruki having to chase him down, eventually running into hildibrand, nashu, and some poor sekiseigumi they dragged along for the ride who were also looking for yojimbo. at one point, he breaks his sentence to whisper good night to sleeping mune, whispering even softer than before and a’dewah finds himself whispering the same thing as he climbs up the steps and passes the manager of suites without even a hello. it doesn’t matter; he’s not loud enough for mune to hear him or know that his dad is talking to his uncle across the rift, and somehow that hurts more than the bruise he gets when he trips over the last step to the third floor.

“i suggest staying far away from anything involving hildibrand,” a’dewah says as he cracks open the door to find an empty suite awaiting him; wyda and tehra’ir had left for eulmore. duscha and valdis accompanied y’shtola back to rak’tika, while lumelle and elwin trekked back to the inn at journey’s head by alisaie’s side. everyone else is… on the source. “he has a knack for getting everyone into trouble.”

haruki laughs, the bright sound covering the rattling wind against the windows—it must be a summer storm rolling in for it to be that violent in less than an hour. “i know; i called hana-chan and lunya about him when i couldn’t find mune and the damn chicken and she nearly choked when i mentioned his name.” the quiet rumble of wooden drawers opening, latches being unclasped, and oh dear a’dewah needs to distract himself before he starts blushing like a drunkard. “i think ihget’sae nearly strangled him; ‘pparently lunya wrangled everyone to come investigate when she heard mune got lost in kugane-dori.”

lost in kugane-dori. even a’dewah’s a little frightened by the thought of mune getting lost, remembering what almost happened to elwin. “anyone would, really. hildibrand is…” a’dewah mumbles. he pulls his boots off and tosses them next to elwin’s sandals, hachigane and gloves placed on the countertop by syhrwyda’s new cookbooks. it takes a lot more effort than he thought it would not to just collapse into bed with his battle robe on, carefully moving to grab his kimono cardigan and pajamas from where zaya folded and placed them on the bench. “he’s a force of nature. a very dense force of nature.”

“so, like us, but… worse?”

he sounds almost hesitant, and a’dewah feels his ears pin back in slight embarrassment. “you’d have to ask hanami for her opinion. she’d described us as, er, something colorful when she realized i hadn’t told anyone i was no longer interested in g’raha. lunya overheard and, well… i feel you know us all well enough to understand just what happens when lunya finds out your secrets.”

“you didn’t tell them, ” haruki exhales in a wheezy breath. his voice is muffled momentarily by metal and leather being carefully set aside, back onto the third shelf in haruki’s closet just behind the spare miqo’te sized clothing, just for him. he usually wears his yukata to bed, and convinced a’dewah more than once to take one of his spares when he’d realized his normal sleeping attire was back home. he—rather shamefully and awfully desperate—imagines haruki digging through his closet for the right colored yukata, chest bare and shivering as a’dewah bites back a laugh of his own, remembering how he had to point a bleary, rushing haruki to where his usual clothing was when he nearly missed mune’s genealogy presentation because he kept both of them up half the night. he imagines seiryu’s scale and how it never comes off from haruki’s chest for longer than a few moments, mostly because it keeps coming back, and a’dewah can kind of hear the thrum of the auspice’s aether. he’d always jokingly stuff it in his own pocket when haruki got fussy about it, and they hadn’t realized it would stay in his pocket so long as he didn’t leave yanxia til a’dewah went with hanami to namai with it still there, sitting quietly in his robe’s pocket. “did hanami—”

“she threw me to the wolves, yes, and i can still hear lumelle and a’satina’s screech of excitement, do not laugh at me,” a’dewah says fruitlessly, since haruki’s already choking down his laughs so not to wake maki and have her yell at both of them for being rowdy at whatever time of night it is. at some point, haruki sounds like he’s inhaled helium, and that sets a’dewah off in the middle of taking off his robe, bending over and dropping one of the clasps for the chain keeping the front close and the sash tumbling to the floor.

“i—kami, i really love you,” haruki says as easily as he breathes once he catches his breath, followed by the sound of the closet door closing, the drawer rolling back into place, and his lance being set against the wall. a’dewah’s breath hitches, something more than a little terrifying starting to worm its way out from the cracks haruki’s i love you tears into his tempered walls. his cardigan feels scratchy against his skin as he sits on the too large bed, moving to grab a blanket or two as haruki resumes his routine.

and after he’s practically wrapped himself in the blankets to the point where he’s swaddled like a newborn, he mumbles, “i’m in bed.” the rumbling static climbs in volume as a small clap of thunder sounds—he wonders, briefly, if the storm is zaya’s fault somehow—but a’dewah can still hear haruki’s quiet humming, the tune familiar from when they were just ten and still tripping over the lyrics. haruki makes a small noise of affirmation, hums quieting down. he can see haruki’s eyes scrunching up, focusing in on whatever it might be.

he starts to remove the clips and pins in his hair as haruki’s softened hums keeps him company. part of him wonders if haruki’s untied his hair yet, letting the mess of turquoise and teal down from the singular hair tie he somehow keeps it all in, or if he’ll wait until he’s already in bed and about to fall asleep when he suddenly remembers about it. his fingers tingle with the feeling of carding through haruki’s hair and braiding it just to see if he could. part of him hopes haruki will let him do it again, even though the first time he’d somehow tangled up the three parts into more of a twist than a braid.

“okay! now i am too.” a loud puff of air comes through; haruki must have flopped onto the futon with his arms and legs spread out. the rustling of the blankets, even though a’dewah is certain it’s summer and there’s a rather humid storm outside. he usually pulls the covers up to his stomach, especially when haruki tugs him onto his chest and into his arms. “anyways, how was your da—er, night?”

“i was in the library for the past sixteen bells, ruki, i don’t think you want to hear about it. talk about your… your past few weeks?”

“ah, right,” he says, not at all phased by the confused tone of a’dewah’s voice. “well, i got back from gangos with a new staff for mune! i’m saving it for when he finishes his current lessons with the kojin on, er, water aether? he still doesn’t like going there alone, though; he keeps asking when you’ll come back whenever i mention it.”

“is that so?” a’dewah cracks a weak smile like haruki might see it somehow. “promise i’ll be back soon… but who made a custom staff for him?”

“oh, the bozjan resistance got… was it gerolt? well, it’s something about him being a great blacksmith perfect for reconstructing the blades of gunnhildr, and he was offering services to anyone who could get him the materials, so!”

haruki rambles on about how he’d needed to “expertly persuade” hanami into helping him out with finding the inscriptions for the weapon only to realize he couldn’t do shite since they’d have to delve into the memories of poor cid, who really deserved to have a break and a lot of tea, and with each sentence a’dewah sinks deeper into something horrible. the part of him that is selfish, craves attention and touch, seems so much colder now than it was before, the hollow pit now a yawning chasm of wanting. of yearning.

he does not deserve to be yearning for haruki’s hands running across his skin, scratching at the nape of his neck to comfort and behind his ears just for fun. love is not meant to be as one-sided as he’s making theirs, a cycle of unrequested but nonetheless cherished actions rather than one side constantly wanting and the other giving. part of him wonders if he really ever loved before, or if it was just the terrible, horrible monster inhabiting the same space as him craving affection and getting it however it could, wringing it from the people a’dewah cared for.

(did his short-lived love for g’raha feel as twisted as the garden of emotions he grows in his chest for haruki? or was this what being loved and loving in return felt like?)

he bites his lip as haruki mentions a few other things he’s had happen in the time a’dewah’s been away—a very lovingly made omamori from mune, complete with a cat charm that sounds terrifying to him that lunya chose out, something about meeting tsukiko in her civilian clothing and her panicking, a visit from seiryu and suzaku inquiring to his and hanami’s whereabouts that spooked shomi and maki for a precious few seconds, a conversation with someone who said how people dream to stay with someone even in sleep—and tries not to wish for too much. even with suzaku’s blessings, his heart was still weaker; if he stressed about how good a partner he was to haruki, he might die here without ever seeing him again.

he’s probably exaggerating a little, but he’s got that odd feeling he’s going to die soon. just a little.

when haruki finishes going on about his incredibly interesting past few moons, a comfortable, smothering silence begins. a’dewah shuffles himself about so his tail isn’t suffocated under the blanket, whipping about slowly. “hey, are… are maki-san and shomi-san still, er, angry at me?”

“you really can drop the honorific, dewah,” haruki chides quietly. “but! no. not really. mother might talk to you about communicating when you come back, but you’ll be fine.” it sounds an awful lot like i won’t let them hurt you, which is stupid; they’re haruki’s mothers, they wouldn’t hurt him intentionally—but a’dewah is much softer than the stuff aymeric and hanami and haruki are made of. a golden heart, haruki says, but gold is soft. malleable. melts, under enough heat, and he is already filled with enough molten feelings to rival the sun’s heat. a’dewah is fairly certain he will melt if he damages his relationship to the haganes more than he already has, the solar flares of regret and guilt worse than any magical red lilies he could conjure.

he wants and yet he fears what he craves, left wondering which part of him is the broken bit that needs to be healed so that he might be able to just ask for it instead.

“i… er, don’t believe you, really… but i miss all of you,” a’dewah admits, feeling a bit smaller and colder than before. then, a quieter, less sure thought that really has no business bothering him: “e-except maybe itomi-san, even though she d-doesn’t really count?”

“well, y’know, she and naonaka kinda disowned themselves, so you’ll be fine.” haruki’s voice drops a smidge into bitterness—well, that wasn’t what he meant to do, curse his stupid mouth—but haruki recovers easily. he always has. “homesick for here, huh? tell you what; you can list what you miss the most, and i’ll see if i can get hana-chan to carry it over for you. maybe a’khebica has some ideas.”

“i don’t—it’s. what i miss from there isn’t, er, something hanami can bring through the rift. khebica wouldn’t know, either.”

“well, the offer still stands; i might be able to arrange something,” haruki says, and a’dewah just knows he is winking to his ceiling with a gleaming grin across his face like a’dewah can see him, and in a way, he can. it takes everything he has not to groan and smile at the goofy thought in return.

even if he did list what he missed so much about home, he’d just sound so desperate because what he misses most is haruki. for the past four years he’s been confined to the first it’s been haunting him just how much he’d relied on haruki’s energy to fuel his own once garlemald started pressing down on them double time, wondering if any of his strength was really his own. he wants what the letters they send back and forth describe; the quiet nights spent in each others’ company, the adventures in eorzea he promised, the hugs and kisses and that one dance haruki really wants him to do, the garden they’ve been caring for since he’s been gone.

lunya had offhandedly mentioned, once, how he and haruki wrote to each other like a married couple in their honeymooning phase, and he flushed a brighter red than dalamud not because she implied they were married but because he really, really wanted that more than he should. a step too far too soon, especially with the empire breathing down the warrior of lights’ necks, but fuck he really wanted to promise his future to haruki even if he didn’t know how much longer he would live just because it felt more right than everything else a’dewah could have done.

he wants too much. greedy, needy, childish wants. he just wanted to be loved for so long, and now that he has it he wants more. wanton.  

“i can’t quite think of anything,” he lies through his teeth even though what he really wanted to say was i want to be yours, forever because he is and will always be a coward. “but if i figure something out i’ll tell you.”

for all his perceptiveness when a’dewah is sitting in front of him, haruki doesn’t seem to be able to pick up on him feeding both of them lies through linkpearl. maybe something to do with the interference. “‘kay.” the silence rolls back in, like an early morning fog that chills a’dewah because he knows what he’s dreading is hiding in that fog.

please don’t say you love me, a’dewah pleads even though that’s exactly what he wants to hear. i don’t want this to end, i want to listen to your voice for so much longer, i want to hear about you, i want, i want—

he must have pissed off some sort of kami of misfortune, because the very next thing haruki whispers to him, so sweet and kind and not at all knowing what he’s doing to a’dewah’s heart, is “i love you, dewah.”

“...l-love you too, ruki,” he barely manages to say, not even toying with the idea of saying love you more like usual, and oh he’s starting to cry, how embarrassing. it takes everything he has to clamp his hand over his traitorous mouth and patiently wait for haruki to end the connection, pull the blankets over his chest and go to sleep while a’dewah fights with the monster leaping out of the holes in his greedy, greedy heart.

for a moment, haruki goes quiet, only soft breathing coming over the aetheric connection, and a’dewah thinks he might be asleep. he… hopes haruki is asleep; he doesn’t know what he’d do if haruki heard him, really.

and then of course a’dewah’s fingers slip, a loud sob that sounds more like a dying cat than him tearing through the cracks, and the silent turmoil is broken as haruki obviously gets pulled from the beginnings of sleep.

“...sunshine?” haruki asks, sleep fogging up his voice and a’dewah stupidly opens his mouth to respond which only lets out a whimper instead of it’s fine , and gods he’s a horrible, horrible mess, why is he like this . it’s not fair of him to keep asking for haruki to talk him down from the edge, to cry every time he calls and expect haruki to pick up the pieces when they both know hearing him crumbles hurts both of them. “dewah? was that noise you?”

and on the other end, a’dewah can hear the rustling of blankets being pushed off—shite, he’s keeping haruki up by being a child about this—and haruki’s hands slapping onto his bedding in a light thump as he pushes himself up in fear. “what’s wrong,” haruki says so kindly and fuck, he’s crying harder now and a’dewah was already teetering on edge of something completely and entirely disastrous before he did this, why did he do this again? “did something happen?”

everything is happening at once, more like. 

“i don—i don’t know,” he cries, wrapping his arms around his head like he used to when prisca would say stop crying like it would keep him safe from his own thoughts… but haruki’s not prisca and he’s using his time for him instead of for himself so why is this even happening, he shouldn’t be panicking. the blanket tangles around him, comfort twisted into a trap and a’dewah feels like he’s drowning. “i wish i did but i don’t and i’m so sorry please just end the call i need you to sleep—”

part of him is screaming please don’t leave me alone and the other part wails don’t listen to me cry again, i can’t be good for your health while a third, utterly confused bit of him sits trapped in the middle, hunkered down. the monster a’dewah has been running from has opened its maw and spews out all the things he utterly craves but ultimately does not deserve from life, threatening to swallow him whole and permanently, this time.

“sunshine, i’m not going to let you be alone when you’re crying like that,” haruki says, and a’dewah can’t tell if it’s pity or disappointment pouring through the linkpearl but he hates it, please just leave him here to suffer. “unfortunately, you’ve found a very stubborn person to date.”

he knows, but he also knows haruki knows danger when he hears it, so why doesn’t he run from this? 

because he loves you, part of him thinks in mune’s voice, remembering the comfort the little raen boy could bring in four words when a’dewah looked worried in the middle of teaching him something and gods, since when was a child more emotionally mature than him?

maybe because you never got the chance to be a kid and grow up normally, he thinks again, teetering dangerously close to hyperventilating as he practically strangles his fingers in his tangled hair.

he has absolutely zero clue what haruki has been saying for the past few moments, evident in the rising worry seeping through haruki’s usually calm, energetic, happy voice. “love, i need you to breathe,” he coos, and a’dewah hisses, lungs not working with him no matter how much he wants to listen, his wanting finally turning on its head. “here; listen to me. follow, please, i can’t help you if you hyperventilate.”

he’s extremely glad past him had the forethought to tell haruki a bit about how he deals with scared patients, because he remembers to murmur in, breath deep, out, breathe out, and even though a’dewah chokes on his own air he can catch up. i’m here, i’m here, haruki hisses between breaths, and hells open, heavens weep, if he wasn’t already crying his dedication to making sure he’s alright rather than listening and cutting the call would have made him weep.

“hey, sh-sh-sh,” haruki coos once a’dewah’s breaths sound less like desperate gasps for air and more like struggling to breath past the fat tears streaming down his face. “i won’t leave you alone, you can pretend i’m there next to you until you can actually lie down next to me again.”

but you know i’m no good at playing pretend. he can’t believe himself, sobbing and wrapping himself further under his blanket and letting the fluffy, stuffy feeling wrap around him in some poor facsimile of being hugged. nothing here could possibly measure up to the feeling he so desperately craves, even though it’s just being in haruki’s arms. all he really wants is a hug. imagine that. 

gods, it must be killing haruki to listen to a’dewah sob like he’s dying—he’s never going to tell haruki that he actually died, a bolt of ice piercing through his chest and suzaku’s feather on a staff he had no access trying to save him once more—and he has half a mind to cut the connection between linkpearls just to save one of them from being in pain but his arm makes the executive decision to try and rip his hair out instead. he almost never has control over himself when he’s blubbering, so he’s not so much surprised as he is sickened by his lack of restraint.

“i—” he chokes on the words, a hiccuping gasp shocking both of them. “i’m s-orry, i didn’t mean t’ pull you back from sleeping.”

his chest feels like there’s a thousand ponze weight crushing it down into dust, his emotions becoming too much like they always do, inevitably. in a better universe, maybe he would have had the restraint to let haruki go to sleep first, cut the call, and be miserable on his own until wyda came back, or duscha decided to return because he somehow always knew when he’d break down next. so did krile. maybe there’s just something innately motherly about scholars when it comes to their younger peers (was krile older than him?).

“i wasn’t meaning to pass out then and there, dewah, but i’m sorry for making you think i was going to leave you hanging like that.” haruki makes a little noise that sounds like oh dear, followed by the quiet ripping of fabric. did he clench his sheets so hard his nails tore into them? “i had a feeling something was wrong from the moment you said you called because you had time.”

well then. isn’t that a bit embarrassing, to be found out from the beginning. “i shouldn’t have called.”

“but you did, and i’m very glad for it,” haruki answers honestly, and a’dewah can imagine him sitting, a little hunched over and relieved, eyes half-lidded and foggy with sleep, because he’s always been one to work himself down to the bone and pass out, and a’dewah’s been keeping him up for stupid reasons, this time. “you deserve to feel okay, and i don’t mind losing a lil sleep over it.”

a’dewah doesn’t deserve anything, really, but he’ll take what haruki gives just because he doesn’t want to be rude when he’s offering support so kindly. even if it’s exactly what he’s craving—comfort. haruki knows him too well and one day it’s going to get him killed, either from heartbreak when a’dewah screws up for the last time or from actual danger when a’dewah gets the haganes in trouble by being a public figure with a very peculiar lover and an adorable nephew that also happen to be related to another warrior of light.

“ruki, go to bed.” he curls up into his pillow, poking his head through a hole in the tangles of the blanket to breathe. he’ll just stay up until his stomach rights itself and the sickening dread-guilt sets in, something more comfortable than panic and safer than feeling content, because when he wakes up he absolutely won’t be okay no matter what.

“no, dewah, i think i won’t go to bed if you don’t too."

fuck, please don’t start this. “i—no, ruki, you can’t stay up on account of me being emotional, i’ll be—”

haruki scoffs, though more at the stifling tension and the lie than at a’dewah himself. “fine? please don’t lie to me. don’t close off again.”

“b-but… it’s not fair to you,” he croaks out, finally, throat raspy and dry. “to keep asking you to care for me when i break down. you—you’re not supposed to constantly have to listen to me cry, not when it hurts both of us because listening to someone you love in pain is horrible, horrible work.” he had experience with listening—watching over someone as they writhed in pain and knowing there was nothing he could do but watch if he didn’t want to harm them. he’d done it a thousand times before, and would do so a thousand more so long as the world needed heroes and wars. walking around amaurot besides hanami and zaya nearly tore his heart in two because no matter how afraid of them he might be they were suffering the whole time and even when he was pulled from the rift by g’raha and could heal again he couldn’t stop their pain as they all valiantly fought emet-selch. “let me just be fine, let me learn to take care of myself.”

he doesn’t want haruki to have to care for someone broken as him when the dirty work could easily be done by himself. he might be a caretaker by—not by nature, but by experience —but even the most stalwart caretakers have their limits and by nophica’s grace he does not want to be the straw that breaks haruki’s back. if haruki ever got tired of him, because everyone gets tired of a stubborn crybaby eventually no matter how much they love the person they can be, he wouldn’t know what to do. he’s too reliant, acting like a child when really he’s an adult, and it isn’t healthy for either of them to be like this.

a’dewah doesn’t want to leave but if his solar flares of emotions are hurting haruki he’d rather jump into the ocean and be extinguished forever instead.

“well, most people learn best by example. breathe,” haruki says, quiet even as the storm outside his home rages. he takes as deep a breath as he can, listening to haruki breathe with him. “can you name one person, besides me, all of balefire, and the scions, that has shown you how to care for yourself?” 

haruki leaves him in strenuous silence as he thinks, still there but waiting. he almost says my parents, but the last time he saw them was when he was eight, long since buried and he’s nearly thirty-six now—and really, did the nunh of any tribe really care for his sons past their strength, of which he had none because khebica said he’d inherited their mother’s love for the elements. mahja and tahja were too busy trying not to be a burden for him, atoh and vahno were both too young and needed to be cared for first, khebica was taught to care for herself first after what happened to her, and he was the only one castrum fluminis wanted anyhow and they nearly broke him before he was eighteen so who else? tsukiko was still too afraid of yudai, louisoix had so many others to look for first, e-sumi-yan didn’t even know—

“...i. i don’t know,” he says, and the revelation nearly shatters him. even among the people haruki had him exclude, he’d only just started letting them fuss about his wellbeing, except... “you might—you were the first. for a while, the only person i let try. you were just too—too...”

“persistent? thank you, it’s one of my strengths,” he says, a smile leaking through the crackling connection that makes a’dewah’s chest stutter in its rise and fall. “and besides, when i first saw you in that rice paddy i seriously got worried ‘cause i saw kotone almost drown there that same day. you were so much shorter, too.”

“ hey, i w-wasn’t that short then.”

“were too. anyways, you kinda proved my point. let me help, because i want to, and i’m sure you’ll be able to do it on your own soon. i want you to get better,” haruki promises, and the words a’dewah turns over in his head have a cool warmth to them, like diving into the one river in summer. something distinct, grounding. loving. “and if it means i have to share your pain, so be it. i can take a fair amount.”

great; he’s going to cry again, all because haruki loves him too damn much and he doesn’t know how to deal with it all, an ocean’s worth of devotion and promises poured into his hands and leaking through his fingers.

“i—i did warn you that this stuff is horrible, right? i don’t want you to get hurt from my issues,” a’dewah murmurs, hands grasping uselessly at his cardigan’s sleeves and fingers cramping from it all.

“yeah, and? it’s you. there’s not a lot that can keep me from helping you, save this damned soul-ghost situation. no matter what comes up, you’re stuck with me for the near future.”

a shaky breath on both sides, trying to survive the last few tremors of a’dewah’s fragile temperament. fabric rustling on haruki’s end; good, he must be tucking himself back under the covers, albeit gingerly. the guilt might eat at him later, if haruki says he didn’t sleep well, but for now the weirdly soothing thought of you’re stuck with me smooths the prickly bits in his chest back down.

“i have an idea.” haruki shifts, horn with his linkpearl brushing against his pillow. maybe he’s looking out the window, or looking out his door to check if he’d woken someone up in talking sense back into a’dewah. “we can keep the connection open ‘til morning; i’ve got aether to spare and you’ve even more than i do, right? it’ll be kinda like waking up next to each other,” haruki says soothingly, even though it won’t be like he says because a’dewah won’t be able to turn over and laugh at haruki’s bedhead, won’t be able to lazily pull haruki’s arm over his shoulders and feel safe. “we’ve got similar sleep schedules. it shouldn’t be too hard compared to saving the world.”

“i—i know what you mean, but…” what if when i wake up hearing your voice but not seeing you beside me just makes it worse, he would say if he had the guts, but all of those had jumped out the window with common sense when he made this damned call.

and yet haruki just knows him too well and answers anyways. “hey, it’ll be fine. think of it this way; part of me is always thinking about you, even if i don’t realize it, so just think of me,” haruki says, and a’dewah already knows where he’s going with this but isn’t that a thing they all reserve for mune, who is starting to grow up faster than they can keep up with? “and i’ll be there with you, always, because i trust you with my heart—and if that isn’t enough, i’m still just a call away, right?”

“r-right,” a’dewah whispers back, eyes brimming this time not with pained tears but happy ones, not even knowing how much he needed that little bit of permission until now. his heart is finally settling, after three or four nights of restless searching, restless wanting , simmering quietly in its proper place rather than leaving him hollow and melting. “and... i trust you with mine.”

neither of them have to say it, but even with the rain pouring down by haruki’s window and the winds outside a’dewah’s the silence coming over the linkpearl finally feels calm.

haruki’s next yawn is loud, and a’dewah can hear the tension melt from his voice like frost in spring and silver dew from plants in summer. “d’you think you can sleep now? or… should i serenade—”

his voice is utterly wrecked, but he somehow manages to yowl, “i can sleep fine!”

haruki’s bubbling laughter rises with the thunder outside his house, filling a’dewah with liquid gold warmth—not molten, but soothing, comforting, home. no longer threatening to melt him from the inside out but strengthening, and he can feel himself blushing at the thought of warm hugs just like this even though it’s not all that much, in the grand scheme of things.

when both of them manage to calm down—haruki from his ever bubbling joy and a’dewah from his constant state of embarrassment when it comes to haruki—it’s not too much for a’dewah to rub his eyes one last time and simmer in the dark warmth sitting further inside his chest, no longer threatening to overtake him for now. not bright, like his magic and the light and the harsh sun. dark, like the sunless sea and the stars and shooting stars overlapping, even if two of those things aren’t quite dark.

for someone proficient in white magic, it feels safer in the dark than the light.

“i miss you,” he whispers even though he has a feeling haruki found a way to laugh himself to sleep—oh, no, his breath hitches when a’dewah hiccups in an ugly croak, gods why does haruki find him attractive despite all of this—thinking of teals and oranges and fireflies that light up the white scales lining haruki’s jawline. “and i think i always will, a little bit. i want to be yours forever.”

there, he’s said it; i want. the simmering, unknown dark cools off, no longer warbling his voice, and his eyes start to feel heavy as adrenaline bubbles away.

“i could say the same, dewah,” haruki whispers back, words fraying as a’dewah’s past few days of running catch up to him, finally. “i miss you too, but you’ll be back soon, so for now? sleep tight.”

and he does, the tinny sounds of haruki’s breathing evening out lulling him to his dreams where he isn’t so far away from home.

[thesilverdragoon]

The Cabinet of Curiosity

Previous: The Inn at Journey’s Head

"Word's come in that Holminster Switch is requesting a refreshing and a bolstering of the guard for a little while."

"Are they now?"

It had been fairly quiet for the better part of the day. Only a handful of soldiers had come in to be treated, leaving everyone at the Spagyrics with a little more free time on their hands than they were used to.

Not that there weren’t things to do still. Like cleaning (Chessamile would use the word ‘spotless’ most often, even knowing this was nearly impossible.)

"There've been reports of eaters coming closer and closer to the fields where their animals graze. The townsfolk are starting to get rather worried, I assume." Chessamile continued, brushing a stray lock of hair way from her face after wiping off her glasses.

Hanameen hummed aloud as she thought about the news. "And you're telling me this...why? It’s not as though I can go rushing out there to defend the town all by myself."

Chessamile had this almost wry looking grin about her as Hanameen went back to dusting the shelves. "Well, for starters, I've been seeing you eye those tomes as of late."

"And? What of it?" She paused, narrowing her eyes with suspicion.

It had to have been months since she last picked up any book of incantations, much less practiced them. It was a frequent enough occurrence. Life kept her and everyone else nearly scrambling all the time to make end’s meet as it was. She simply hadn’t the time.

"Aaand there's a good chance Gennar will probably be sent there as well,"

Just the thought of it made Hanameen's mouth crumple into a squiggle. She knew better than to get her hopes up.

But she just couldn't help it.

"I'm no good at throwing spells and what have you Chessamile, you know that. They need actually skilled people. You know. Skilled in fighting??"

"Well it would be as good as any a time to practice wouldn't it?"

Feather duster still in hand, she turned to face her, "Even if I did go, purely on your insistence, then who will watch the boys? I can't just leave-"

"Why I'd be delighted to watch them in your absence!" The old woman offered very dramatically, clapping her hands together. "They'll be so busy helping me they wouldn't have any time to wonder about much else. And far too tired to fight, certainly."

Hanameen chuckled a little at that, before turning away again. "Still… they'd be heartbroken if I-"

"Come now, they're not babes anymore Hanameen. They can survive several weeks without you.

With Gennar and the others there, the town will be relatively well-defended. Large scale attacks out that far north are rare, if they happen at all.”

Again Hanameen hummed with indecision as she mulled it over in her head.

It was true. With work and the boys, she hardly had any time to herself to practice magic, or do much of anything else.

While she held little interest in the more offensive side of magic-casting, she found the healing aspects of it to be far more useful to her own needs (as well as others.)

When was the last time she'd tried to cast any sort of spell? Well- months of course, but she hardly remembered anything that she did at the time.

Letting out a breath she cleared her head, searched for a target and then closed her eyes. Slowly she raised her hands and focused on a nearby flower pot, willing a barrier to form around it.

The air shimmered brightly and distorted, as though the pot were caught in a soap bubble that engulfed it entirely. But she couldn't hold it there for long.

With a sharp exhale, the magic barrier shattered and faded away.

Hanameen looked dismayed as Chessamile came and patted her encouragingly on the shoulder.

"So,"

"I don't know,"

She clapped both hands on Hanameen’s shoulders and bobbed her back and forth in a teasing way. "Geennnnn will be theeerree~"

Hanameen couldn't even stifle a laugh. "Oh stop! I would just get in the way and distract him,"

"Trust me, that boy NEEDS to be distracted by his own family if that's what it'll take for him to realize he needs to come home more often. It's ridiculous. Twelve years of this nonsense, running around out and about saving the world, doesn’t even remember to come home to care for his own children! Or falls right asleep the minute he does!"

"I know...but… well, he has an important job- they all do out there."

"Bah, men's all time famous excuse. Important job or no, he has children that need their father, and a partner who needs him.

...Or at the very least you could start scouting out someone else!"

Hanameen snorted rather hard as they both broke out into laughter. "Wicked white- Chessamile! Why don't you go instead? So you can look for someone you fancy yourself?"

"Ohh you know I would, if we didn't have so many of our own running in here covered in bumps and bruises and anything else they can think of, begging me to kiss them better.

Though, I could just wait for the Exarch's new companion to come back. Now he's quite a handsome looking fellow with those adorably round ears of his,"

Hanameen wiped at her eye. "Goodness, you'll scare him away with that devilish side of yours."

"I don't make it easy for them, it's true." Chessamile nodded with all the wisdom of a sage.

"I should go find the boys, see what they think about all this." The last thing Hanameen wanted to do was upset them by suddenly leaving without any warning.

Fenick wouldn't have it. And Arval? She didn't even want to think about it (and no doubt all the crying and blubbering that would ensue.)

"They might be more willing if their father is involved." Chessamile suggested, sifting through a crate of clinking, colorful medicinal bottles. "You know how much they miss him. Even Arval, despite him never saying so."

"I know," Hanameen nodded in agreement. "...I'll speak to them after supper.

You'll be all right here on your own this evening?"

"Of course!" Chessamile waved her off. "Go on now! And let me know when I need to start preparing a spot for them in my apartment! We'll have a wonderful time!"

"I will. See you tomorrow."

As Hanameen left the Spagyrics, she couldn’t help but feel that tinge of worry, tainting every other thing that would come to mind.

To just up and leave like that...

What if something went awry? That was always the danger of going out into the field. What if something happened to Gennar if she didn’t go? What if something happened to her if she did? As much as she trusted Chessamile and Fae-Hann and the others… well…

Fenick and Arval needed her.

But, Chessamile was right too, in that they weren’t as little anymore… And how would she ever find time to practice her own magic in order to build her own skills?

There were no easy answers. And she was loathe to bring it up to either Fenick or Arval to begin with.

As the Rotunda came within view, Hanameen sighed loudly, drooping with the sound as she frowned at the aetheryte swirling around in the center. It was quite mesmerizing. But she willed herself to stay focused.

Rather than head off towards the marketplace as initially intended, she turned and walked the other way, to the lower levels of the Crystarium.

It had been quite some time since she paid the towering vault that was the Cabinet of Curiosity a proper visit.

________

The library tower in the Trivium had always been something of a marvel unique to the Crystarium. Hundred- no, thousands upon thousands of books sat there in shelves that went all around the room in a circle. Ones that had survived the disaster of the time after the Flood from ages long past, all meticulously cared for by a handful of archivists and scribes who worked relentlessly to protect them. Not even the gilded halls of Eulmore held such a collection.

Or perhaps they did. But Hanameen wasn't sure if they had had their own library to begin with (would there be any time to read? Living a life of luxury? Surely there would.)

The place almost echoed as she pushed the massive doors shut, once again sealing the relative silence back within the library's walls.

The Cabinet of Curiosity it had been dubbed by the residents from long ago, back during the beginnings of the city when it had first been built.

And what a fitting name it was.

In the center stood a column with stairs that spiraled all around it and up to the very top, sectioning off different levels with even more books along the way.

Hanameen took a few slow and aimless steps, merely enjoying the feeling of being able to have a leisurely look around at all.

Inevitably, several tomes caught her attention during her browsing, and she pulled one off of its shelf. A dark blue book with gilded letters and gold on the pages, and a well loved ribbon-bookmark dangling limply from the top.

She remembered the book. It had been one of her favorites growing up.

Flipping through it brought back memories of palaces in faraway lands with magical gardens and lords and their knights- not unlike the stories she had read to Fenick and Arval a hundred times over.

Gennar had been somewhat of a gentleman back then. Somewhat. What with the holding doors open for her, laying his coat on puddles for her to walk over, inviting her to dance in that funny way he would try… The memories made her practically swoon. And she would have done so aloud, had she not shaken herself out of the daydream and back into reality.

That's right...incantations… spell books.

Clearing her throat awkwardly (it wasn't like anyone was watching,) she climbed the column stairs to the top level. "Moren! There you are!" Only to startle the hume librarian with short green hair in even greener-robes into dropping a whole stack of books he'd been carrying. "Oh! Sorry-"

"Hanameen! Wh- I didn't even hear anyone coming up the stairs! You haven't been back in some time," He scrambled to pick everything up, only to offer a sigh of thanks as she stooped down to help him. "Is Fenick growing bored of the same stories? I might have a few he may be interested in-"

"Oh, no it's nothing like that." She dusted off her skirt folds once Moren had righted himself. "I'd actually come to see what your selection of spell books was. I still have that beginner's guide that you let me borrow months ago, though I'm afraid I haven't had much of an opportunity to study it all that closely."

Once Moren had set down the stack of books onto a nearby surface, he put a hand to his chin, gazing upwards as he thought. "Other spell books? Well… I can tell you that all of the knowledge builds upon itself. If you haven't mastered the basics you might have a harder time with the others…

N-not that I would know! My skills lie in the preservation of antiques and old literature!! Not casting spells to send eaters to oblivion!

I assume that's what you were aiming to learn anyway?"

"Not exactly…

Holminster Switch calls for aid and Chessamile recommended I test my skills out in the actual field. Which...would be a much quicker and more effective way to learn but-"

"Learn on the job with eaters about?! She's mad that one!! That's dangerous!

And besides, who would care for Fenick and Arval??"

Hanameen let out a light sigh as she rolled her eyes. "I know- I'm in agreement with you there...but," Chessamile did have a point still.

"And she did offer to watch them while I was gone."

Moren looked slightly dismayed by the answer but held his objections nonetheless. "Well, if I were you, I would plan on studying every minute of the day just to even hope I stood a chance out there. For one minute even!

Let me see what I have…"

"I haven't decided yet, I was going to think about it tonight." She added as he motioned for her to follow him back down the steps to the floor below them.

There he perused through the shelves, plucking out tome after tome until he had another armful of books with him, letting them practically drop onto another nearby studying table (weren't you supposed to be delicate with old books?)

"You could branch off into these, from the one I gave you… If I'm remembering it correctly that is. I think I am."

Hanameen came forward, picking each book up and scanning through random pages.

"I think this will do. Thank you Moren."

"You're not going to lug all those out there with you? I suggest these, if you plan on it," He held two up out of the bunch and offered them to her, which she took.

"Well now if I wanted to be a big bumbling target I'd just tie a sign to my head. These two?"

"Yes, they review the basics well enough and delve into the more advanced aspects of barriers and such."

"Perfect! Just what I needed."

Moren looked relieved, at the very least. "Excellent then. Just...please try not to damage them, you know how finding copies is a nightmare."

"And since when have I ever not been careful with books?" Hanameen smiled innocently.

"Since Arval…" Moren muttered before hiding the comment with a cough. As if he could, from an elf. "A-anyway you'd probably best be on your way! You're going to have a lot of studying to do tonight!"

With renewed confidence Hanameen gave a firm nod as she turned to go back downstairs. "Oh won't I. Thanks again Moren, I'll be sure to bring these two back safe and sound! I promise!"

The hume nodded in return and gave a small wave as she left through the large doors and back out into the Trivium. Only after she was gone did he stop hiding the concerned look about his face.

[darthsuki]

So, I managed to get my butt kicked off the servers just as I unlocked what I believe is the second-to-last duty of Shadowbringers. Now that I’m left to fervently deny the option of sleep, I instead shall take the time to ramble on about all of the characters (new and old) this new expansion has made me love, interested in, and/or just very deeply want to write about

and I’ll likely add to it as I finish sidequests...and when it isn’t almost 4 a.m.

As to be expected, this list is riddled with spoilers for the entirety of Shadowbringers, so read on at your own peril!

it’s also riddled with thirst because of course, this is me we’re talking about

Kee-Satt - A wholesome Miqo’te boy found in Amh Araeng who cares a damn lot about his community. You meet him in one of the Aethercurrent quests, but I was curious enough to keep going for a bit afterwards and I’m happy I did! He just wants to get the materials to make a really useful metal, but he’s dealing with some intense discrimination since he’s the only Miqo’te among Hrothgar in the town (the others left for Eulmore at some point). He apparently has the cold shoulder for literally everyone but the WoL/D and confides his hopes and dreams to make his town better and safer with this ore he’s trying to find and I just love him.

Kai-Shirr - You meet him early-on in the MSQ while in Eulmore and I just...he’s got a cute face, a cute voice, and damn if I almost fucking lost my shit when I thought he was going to die. He was so desperate to be with his friends and I am forever sad that he at some point had to accept the fact that those friends were dead and like, I worry for him. Does he have any family? Anyone?? Please Kai-Shirr for the love of god tell me you’re doing alright let me help you.

Moren - The historian? Librarian? of the Crystarium that you meet early in the MSQ. He is a total dork and I have a total softspot for cuties like him. 10/10 would protect at all times, 10/10 would have him recite all sorts of stories from the First just so I could hear his soft voice more. Perhaps hear his voice in more ways than one.

Quinfort / Valan - Two adorable dorks that are part of an Aethercurrent quest in the Rat’Tika Greatwoods, though there is certainly more content of them afterwards in the sidequest chain. Definitely seem like close friends, Valan is the pragmatic to Quinfort’s exuberance and tbh I’d date both of them.

Chai-Nuzz / Dulia-Chai - A married Miqo’te couple who you meet early on in the MSQ. For a while I thought I was going to loathe them since at first I thought they were going to be written super shallowly, as one might expect from how Eulmore residents were at first glance. They get a bit of growth during the MSQ and, honestly, I love them both--they have the most adorable relationship that’s pretty damn supportive of one another and!! Dulia-Chai is a fat female character that isn’t!! Played off!! Like a joke!! She’s sweet and funny and super encouraging to her husband Chai-Nuzz. 10/10 would date them and I’m not afraid to say it. Let me date these two Square Enix, I swear to god.

Lue-Reeq - He is one of the four or five role quest NPCs in Shadowbringers, specifically for ranged DPS characters. I really enjoyed learning about him, honestly--he’s the child of a rich couple of Eulmore and by god does it show. He’s a bit spoiled at the beginning of the quest and a fair bit naive, but he was never really rude--a young man who had some self-confidence issues that he hid by tossing money around to try and buy friendship from people. It certainly didn’t help that I was playing as Khalja at that point in the game (who is my only top OC to date) and I wanted so bad to just fuck this soft Miqo’te man right out in the middle of the fucking forest after I finished the last battle of the questline.

Ardbert - This man has been through so much shit. He deserves a hug and, if it were me, more than a hug, but spectral kinky times aside I adored that I got to see so much more of his history and connections with the people of the First. The friendship that he shares with the WoL/D by the end of the MSQ is super heartwarming. I honestly think I’d have his whole team on this list if I had the time to go through the multiple role questlines that give you more insight to each of them

Solus [Emet-Selch] - Hello yes I’m too busy crying in the corner for commentary. Jk, but for real the amount of lore we got for the Ascians and their world and the new perspective of all the game’s evens we gained from that was...humbling, to say the least. It’s like, I still gotta kick your ass, but I sympathize with the heavy weight of pain and loss that you’ve been carrying with you for literal eons. A good example of a sympathetic villain. 10/10 would entertain a whole AU where somehow Emet-Selch is convinced to not do the thing, and/or maybe even indulge in a lil cliche concept of him falling in love with someone in the Source, like, for realsies, and eventually coming to terms with the fact that he will never get back the world and people he’s lost so long ago--might as well protect the people in the here and now.

Crystal Exarch [G’raha Tia] - I contemplated just putting a string of ‘aaa’ in here, but I figured it wouldn’t exactly communicate the sweet vindication I felt when I saw that hood get blown off to reveal his face in that absolutely beautiful cutscene. It was fucking cinematic, I fucking almost bawled. There is so much depth and literal years of stuff to wade through because, well, G’raha Tia is fucking alive and he’s over 100 years old and he’s been waiting all of those years for you. I watched those cutscenes, I read that dialogue, he’s so fucking in love with you and holy fuck do I absolutely reciprocate those feelings. 

Innocence - I want you to take everything you know and trust about the universe and just toss it straight out of the window, because that’s what happened exactly at the second phase of the Crown of the Immaculate trial. My love for this character, whom I am considering as entirely separate from Vauthry for the sake of my own sanity, is largely based on aesthetics because....he is.....Big Sexy..... Look, I’m content with having an AU to have my attraction and writing make sense with him.

Thancred - More like Dadcred amiright? But for real, no, Thancred had a lot of emotional healing and growing through this expansion and I fucking loved it. His acceptance of Minfilia’s passing in the end, his naming of Ryne, how the two of them bonded as parent and child...it just brings a tear to my eyes. Also he is fucking hot as a gunbreaker.

Urianger - I’m not sure if it’s because Urianger really had an opportunity to shine with the Pixie quests/Il Mheg area, or if it’s because he totally rocks his new astrologian class, but he is just 10/10 in this expansion. Maybe it’s because he stopped wearing the goddamn eAR COZIES

Zenos - He has become Ultimate Yandere(tm) now. And, gods above, if that’s not one of my most guilty-pleasure Things(tm) to work with in fiction. He was in the game for maybe 10 on-screen minutes at MOST and yet he spawned so many damned ideas I can use.

[stephenfairbrook]

As a librarian-by-day, I love Moren. So relatable. He’s really only missing a cardigan.

But, seriously, dude, get yourself some shelf readers!

[undyinglament]

Basic Muse List

Primary Zephirin - The JustAsahi - The Infatuated Fandaniel(Amon) - The Hopeless Fandaniel(Hermes) - The Unanswered Erenville - The Wanderer Varshahn - The Simulacrum Vrtra - The Satrap Elidibus - . The Emissary Emet-Selch -  The Veracity Jullus - The Pride Ardbert - The Mirror

Secondary Adelphel -  The Bright Sicard -  The Pirate Lahabrea -  The Speaker Halmarut -  The Botanist Altima -  The Artist Thaliak -  The Wise Hypnos(OC) -  The Voidsent Laurent(OC) - The Astrologian Seiryuu - The Serpent Omega  - The Omega

Request Moren -  The Librarian Estinien -  The Dragoon G’raha - The Crystalline Zenos - The Beast Mars(OC) - The Sharpshooter Rowan(OC) - The Fox

[of-the-silver-lining]

I climbed the spiral staircase’s last few steps, to the top of the high platform in the Cabinet of Curiosity, and hesitated. A young man was standing before me, poring over a parchment page. He was rather tall for a Hyur and perfectly looked the part of an academic: long robes, long smooth hair, very clean. This must be Moren, I thought, the one I was sent to find.

I was usually not one to judge at first glance. I had been too naive for much of the 6 years of which I had memory, and even after learning much, I also learned that premature judgment of others is often misguided. But I hesitated. He looked so much the scholarly type. I thought of the haughtiest of the astrologians at the Observatorium, the most condescending of the scholasticate of Ishgard, the aloofness of nearly all of Sharlayan, save my Scion friends. The dizzying spiral staircases and circular shelves of tomes around me loomed overhead and stretched far below, and I thought of all the knowledge and history of this world they contained that I didn’t know. I was a stranger here. I could envision him exasperated with my interruption. “Yes, what is it?” He would look down his nose at my bow and my dusty traveling clothes and wonder “What are you doing here, in the houses of learning?” I would ask a question any child of five suns here should know and he would be suitably appalled and proceed to lord his considerable education over this poor unlearned vagrant. Mayhap he would give me a stack of histories, and I would sit in my room for days to glean the information I needed, slowly working out each word when I forgot the sounds the letters made.

Before I could say anything, the man noticed me. “Er, e-excuse me, miss!” he said excitedly--enthusiastically even. I glanced around me, not even sure he was talking to me. “Are you recently come to the city, perchance? I’m quite familiar with our civic roles you see and... well... Ahem!”

I nodded, thoroughly taken aback.

“Wh-what I mean to ask is, have you brought any books with you!? A rumpled scroll, even? A scrap of scribbled-on parchment...?”

“Um,” I stammered, “No?” If I was expecting cold superiority, I could not have been more wrong and I felt ashamed of my earlier judgment. This flustered, awkward man probably knew twenty times as much as I did, and here he was begging me for new knowledge? I would have smiled if I wasn’t so confused.

As if he suddenly remembered his professionalism, he gave a start. “... My apologies,” he said. “Literature is something of an obsession of mine. As well as a profession. Librarian Moren, at your service. And this humble collection is known as the Cabinet of Curiosity. As your powers of perception have likely informed you, my colleagues and I are responsible for curating all manner of tomes, documents, and other vehicles for the written word. As horrific as the loss of life and land wrought by the Flood unquestionably was, the damage to recorded knowledge was no less catastrophic. We few do all we can to preserve what wisdom survived.”

I looked around again. It was nothing like the Great Gubal Library but still seemed more than a humble collection to me. But compared to all the knowledge the Light-flooded world had lost, perhaps it was precious little.

“But tell me, what brings you to the Cabinet today? Looking for any title in particular? Mayhap a spot of academic research?”

Academic research. Unlike me, here was one who knew not to judge others by their appearances, I thought sheepishly.

“Well...” I began. “I’ve come to learn more of the Flood.”

“Oho! So you’ve an interest in modern history? Splendid! A thorough review of recent events can often yield novel perspectives, I quite agree! For the most comprehensive but concise histories, you can look no further than the Simeon works on the third shelf in section 3-F.” He gestured to the third floor just below him. “Aetherological and theological perspectives can be found there as well. There are also fascinating reviews of the effects of the Flood on everything from flora to fauna to modern culture in our independent research section.”

I stared dumbly at the huge tomes on the shelves he was pointing to. “I’m... very new here. I have little time, and I.. I can’t...” Just say it, I thought to myself. It was foolish to waste time feeling ashamed. 

But for a mercy he seemed to understand, and interrupted, with no less congeniality in his voice. “If you would prefer something visual to accompany the account, then I think I have an illustrated history book for children somewhere...”

The relief on my face must have been palpable, because he smiled and said, “Just a moment, and I’ll fetch it for you.”

He left me waiting on the top platform while he found the book. “And here we are,” he said when he returned. I turned to see him holding a thin but nicely decorated book. But before I could move to take it from him, he said, “Would you like to pull up a chair? Make yourself more comfortable?”

I blinked at him in surprise. Did he mean to read it for me? Hydaelyn bless this kind man. It seemed it was not just that he loved knowledge, but wanted to share it with everyone. I nodded.

“Ahem, on with the lesson then.”

[sayonaramidnight]

As the acting librarian of the Crystarium, there's no tall tale or story  that he hasn't heard at least once, if not told himself to those who   were but willing to listen. He's dreamed of seeing the night sky since   childhood, brought up by fairy tales and storybooks about what life was like before the Flood. He is soft-hearted and gentle, but often feels   worried that others might perceive his love of old stories and books as something childish.