#noctine you are a lucky man

[night-market-if]

I LOVE HER SO MUCH!!!!

I mean, look at that woman! Look at her! I love her. She might be my favorite OC to play

Just a lil Chryssi for @night-market-if hehe… as a treat 💖

[thedarknesssings]

Prompt 11: Everything Wrong

Prompt 11: Preaching to the Choir - FFXIV Write 2021 Character: Seviere Sarmantoix, Noctine Sarmantoix, The Housekeeper.

Warning: Suicide, abuse of a minor, blood.

“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what will happen if you screw this up, Seviere.”  Noctine slapped the document down on the dining room table.  The finality of that sudden sound made Seviere flinch.  He sucked his lower lip in between his teeth, narrowed gaze falling to the papers.  “Consider yourself lucky I managed to find anyone at all.  A simple girl will bear children just as well as any other.”

Seviere continued to stare at the documents, his betrothal contract.  This was his birthday present. Today he turned fifteen and his father got him a wife he didn’t ask for.  Yesterday he’d been released from nearly two years of being incarcerated in the Ishgardian asylum and this is what his father does. He wasn’t all that sure he liked women in -that- way, even if he did find them fascinating to watch.  

“Oh, Sir, that’s awfully thoughtful of you,” the housekeeper piped up from the sideboard where she was cutting slices of birthday cake.  “I’m sure the lad will make a fine husband when he’s ready.  He’s just fifteen, sir.  Let him finish growing into his britches.”

“I never asked your opinion.”  Noctine shot the housekeeper a scathing glance.  “I’ll not have him continue with his foppish ways.  He’ll turn out another one of those fruits in frills and lace and no damn honour fucking each other in somnus dens.  No music, no art, no dancing.”  These commands he turned back to Seviere to deliver along with a wagging finger.  “And if I see you doing anything girly, may the Fury save you from my wrath, Seviere.  You will become a proper man, so help me.”

The birthday cake was his favourite, a rolanberry jam roll topped with a fruit glaze and whipped cream.  Seviere tuned out the rest of his father’s tirade and focused on the perfect mix of sweet and tart of the fruit with the cake and cream.  Absolute heaven and as always, for anything good that happened in his life, he had the housekeeper to thank.  She made him this.  She saved his violin from being destroyed with the other instruments in the house.  She hid his sketchbooks when Noctine burned the art supplies.  He didn’t even know her name.  

Seviere left the dining room the moment he was safe to do so and not anger his father more.  A full two hours Noctine droned on about his plans for Seviere’s future, his training, his schooling.  A good hour of that was slagging the things Seviere did like and how no son of his was going to turn out wrong.  Seviere was everything wrong in Noctine’s eyes.  

He wiped his fingers along his cheek, smearing quiet tears along his grey skin.  His back slid down the wall until he sat on the floor in a bedroom full of things he didn’t want.  A new suit of armour stood in one corner along with the sword and shield to go with it.  His gaze strayed toward the window and the night sky beyond the pane.  Stars winked out from beneath a wispy white cloud floating by.  The moon wasn’t quite high enough yet to see.  

A hand dipped into his coat pocket.  He shrugged the coat off letting it bunch up on the floor behind him.  Seviere drew in a breath and exhaled it, calm, measured.  His head rested against the wall, eyes never leaving the night being painted beyond his window. The steak knife from supper was sharp.  The blade sliced through the flesh of his arms just as easily it had done his meat.  A sharp hitch of breath escaped him, his brows furrowing with the sting of the blade cutting deep.  Red welled readily in the slices he made, stained the white of his tunic and soaked into the black of his pants.  The knife fell from his hand to the wood floor.  Maybe in a moment he will know what it is to be free.  

Seviere watched the moon rise to the sound of someone softly weeping.