#on my main kin blog | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

axratsffxivwrite · 15 days

Text

FFXIV Write Day 9 - Lend an Ear (Pointed Inquiries)

(Note: this takes place three weeks after prompt 4 and a year and some change before prompt 5)

Dusk settled over the estersands. Kin relaxed before the fire that held the desert’s late-night chill at bay, while his vibrant purple chocobo settled into his nest for the evening. The smell of roast rabbit still lingered over the camp from dinner, even though they had long buried the bones and scraps. The ruined city of Rabanastre loomed in the distance, a stark reminder of everything he had lost and everything that had been denied to him in the time since.

The sand crunched under Miriam’s boots as she approached. She took a seat a short distance to his side and settled into the sand.

Over the past three weeks, she had shown a remarkable knack for locating his camps to join him on his hunts. Not that he particularly minded. Guilt plagued him with her every visit, and yet he found himself rather selfishly enjoying the company. Even as he continued to side-step identifying himself time and time again.

He hated this. He hated lying to her. She deserved so much better.

He glanced at her. Though her eyes were fixated on the fire, there was a distant gaze upon her face, a slight frown at the corner of her soft lips. The warmth of the firelight accented her features wonderfully, and it was all he could do to pry his eyes away and look back toward the fire himself.

With some hesitation, he ventured, “...something on your mind?”

She hugged her knees close to her, not so much as glancing in his direction. “No, it’s… it’s hardly important.”

“Does it need to be important?”

Miriam let out a soft sigh. He could hear her breaths, slow and deep, clinging to some semblance of composure.

“I don’t know. It’s… do you ever feel… isolated? Alone?”

He swallowed, an ache swelling in his chest. “...often.”

She continued, “so do I. Growing up, I never really felt that way. The clan I’m a part of, we had a dozen or so kids, different ages, but… after the bombing, they split us up. They sent us all to different places, different families. I ended up in Doma, with a temporary family, and… they were nice, but I… I missed everyone else.”

He shifted uncomfortably, drawing a knee close and draped his arm atop it. His mind wandered to his time on the edges of Gyr Abania, isolated from everyone he loved.

“I… can imagine how that feels.” He replied softly, eyes fixated on the flames.

“It hurt… so much… Then Dalmasca was liberated and I came home as soon as I could, but… no one else did.” Her shoulders slumped, her expression fell. “I think that hurt more, being the only one. I’ve been so… angry at everyone else. The clan was our family. How could they just… turn their backs? Not come home?”

He stared into the fire, stone-faced as he could manage, even as her words sliced through his chest like a dagger.

Miriam let out a defeated sigh and turned her gaze toward him. “You… you remind me of someone, and it… it brings it all back.”

Kin did not move. He did not act. He feared if he said or did anything he would break. Every fiber of his being wanted to confess, to hug her, to weep and apologize for his subterfuge, to tell her how much he had missed her, too, and yet… fear kept him frozen in place.

She continued, her voice soft and weary, “...he was a dear friend, though. Surely… he wouldn’t hide himself from me.”

She knew. Surely she knew, to levy an accusation, so thinly veiled as it was. Guilt gnawed at his heart. They were the children of arms dealers, and resistance operatives, of course she would figure him out.

He worked his jaw and chose his next words carefully, “not unless he had a good reason to, I imagine.”

He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, yet he could feel her gaze upon him, scrutinizing his every move. He needed her to believe him, to understand that he had reason, that he wouldn’t hurt her if he felt he had another choice.

She countered, “what reason could justify that level of secrecy?”

“Perhaps…” He ventured cautiously, “...if he were somewhere he was not supposed to be… or if there was someone he did not want to find him.”

Silence lingered for a heartbeat, then another. He could practically hear his pulse pounding in his ears, anxiety gripping his chest. What if that was too much? What if she returned to Rabanastre and told the clan of his presence? He had been told to stay in Gyr Abania, if they found out he was here…

Miriam’s voice cut through the fear in an instant. “...were that the case, I would tell him he has nothing to fear from me. No one needs to know who or what I have seen.”

He hesitated, his claws flexing idly as he weighed that response. He wanted so desperately, so deeply, to trust her…

…so he did.

Kin turned his gaze toward her, guarded but not defensive. She met his eyes, a longing, almost pleading look in her expression. Despite her sorrow, he could not help but stare, caught up in her deep hazel eyes.

He swallowed, and finally replied, “...perhaps he may even believe you.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he offered out his hand to her. Her eyes trailed from his face, down his arm, to his fingers. He could see her mind working as her eyes wandered, and he could not help but wonder whether or not she trusted him in return. It would only be fair if she didn’t; he had, after all, spent weeks trying – failing, evidently – to obscure his own identity. She had every right to be–

Miriam grasped his forearm, closed the distance in an instant, and all but threw herself on him. Kin grunted, the air rapidly squeezed from his lungs as she wrapped her arms around him. His arms were pinned firmly to his side, her face buried against his neck, her breath hot on his collarbone, her hair tickling under his jaw…

He recalled, with something of a wheeze, that she was a weaponsmith’s apprentice first, and an archer second. She seemed to notice his wheeze, and her embrace loosened just enough for him to take a slow, deep breath.

She smelled of the forge and the dust of the road, yet not offensively so. He let out a quiet, relieved sigh, all but melting as he settled. He had not realized how deeply he craved touch until she was upon him, warmth and relief radiating through his body. He found himself drawn closer to her as he shifted to stretch his leg out to make himself more comfortable.

Whether she took his adjustment as an invitation or an opportunity, he couldn’t say. Miriam drew her hands up to his shoulders and in one, smooth motion, swung her leg over to straddle his lap. Kin squeaked involuntarily, given no opportunity to object before she caught his lips with her own.

His entire body locked up as she kissed him. The fur on his ears stood straight. His heart pounded in his chest. So desperately touch-starved, the thought of a night with her sent a shiver through his spine. He had never been one to shy away from temptation, but this was Miriam, this was messy, and this was wrong. Had she not just lamented her loneliness, her longing for a peer? If this was her way to fill the void, he could not take advantage of that.

More afraid to hurt her than he was eager for her company, Kin braced one hand on the sands behind him and snaked the other to her shoulder, gently pushing her back. She broke away, parting but a few ilms from his face. Her eyes met his, her questioning gaze somewhere between worried and insulted. He swallowed, ever uncomfortable with the notion of direct eye contact.

“...Miri,” he murmured softly, holding her at bay. “You know I cannot stay with you, whatever tonight may bring.”

Her expression softened, a relieved sigh escaping her lips as a smile played at the corner of her mouth.

“I know.” She replied, her hand trailing up to cup the side of his face. Her thumb trailed along his cheekbone and he could feel the heat rising to his face beneath her touch.

A part of him wanted to weep, to bury his face in her hand and revel in the first affectionate touch he had felt in so long, to give her whatever she wanted if it meant he could enjoy more of that sweet tenderness. Instead he sucked in a deep breath and steeled himself.

“Miri, please… I have never been a man drawn to the notion of settling down, or tying myself to any one person, I…”

She placed a single finger over his lips, silencing his protests. “I am not asking for your commitment, only your company, for as long as you are willing to offer it… assuming, of course, that you are willing.”

He turned his head to escape her finger and focused on slow, even breaths. “...I do not want to hurt you when I leave.”

“The fact that you’re worried about such things when there is a pretty girl in your lap already makes you a better man than the others who have shared my bed.” Miriam replied, her tone almost teasing as she smiled at him. “I know you’ll leave. I’ve heard enough tales from the Viera women to know how this works; you come home, you have your fun, you leave. I’m okay with that.”

He would be lying to himself to say he didn’t want to go along with it, yet here he was, putting up a token resistance none the less. He lifted his hand from her shoulder and instead took up the hand that had previously muted him. He held her hand between their chests and squeezed it gently.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked softly.

She smirked. “Are you forgetting who kissed who?”

He scoffed. Instead of responding to her he released her hand, grasped the front of her shirt, and pulled her close enough to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him back hungrily, but readily surrendered to his lead as he pressed up against her.

It still felt wrong. There was still that inkling of a feeling at the back of his mind that he shouldn’t do this, that this was too impulsive, too risky, but it didn’t take long at all before those thoughts soon found themselves drowned out by wanton desire.

Desire he happily acted on.

************************************************************************

The next morning, he found himself in a predicament he could not say he had ever particularly anticipated. Nothing dangerous, nor particularly distressing, but… uncomfortable, perhaps. He laid still on the floor of his tent while Miri sat at his side and traced a finger over the discolored welt of a gunshot scar on the front of his left shoulder. He had plenty of other scars, but of course she had fixated on the one that couldn’t be from any manner of beast or blade.

“What happened to you?” She murmured. “You hunt blasphemies but last I checked, blasphemies don’t wield guns.”

He swallowed. “...I was somewhere I shouldn’t have been, fighting foes I shouldn’t have been fighting.” He admit reluctantly. “I took a ricochet to the shoulder. I… it is something of a blur, but I don’t think I even noticed it until I quit the field. I pried the bullet out myself. Exodus healed me best he could, but he’s a chocobo, not a conjurer. It was always going to scar.”

“What were you fighting?”

“Garleans.” He replied. “Tempered ones, I… I was not supposed to be there. It was chaos, everything burning…”

Miriam grimaced. “Like home, all over again.”

“Like home.” He echoed wearily. A dam had burst in his mind and the words flowed forth almost unbidden. “I couldn’t sit idly by again while someone else’s home burned, I… I wanted to help, I wanted to prove I could fight. It was foolish, I wasn’t prepared… and someone else paid the price for me.”

With soft, soothing motions, she ran her fingers through his hair, careful to avoid his ears. Her fingertips sent warm, tingling sensations down his neck and spine. He let out an appreciative hum, his eyes drifting closed as she lightly massaged his scalp.

Kin took a deep, shaky breath, then continued, “…the Final Days were no better. I was on the Corvosi border with a Bozjan unit, staring down a horde of blasphemies. It was all we could do to raise the palings and fight for our lives until the skies stopped burning…”

“You lived.” Miriam murmured. “Even when you had no right to, you lived.”

“The first time I faced death’s door… I remember lying there and saying over… and over… I don’t want to die. I suppose I made up my mind then and there. I would not die, no matter what hells may come.”

“Keep it that way? Please?”

“I plan to.”

Kin pushed himself up off the ground to sit beside Miri, facing her. He took her hand in his and squeezed it gently, not quite able to meet her gaze directly.

“...thank you,” he murmured. “I… I’ve never had the opportunity to speak to anyone about either battle.”

Miriam squeezed his hand in return, shifting closer to him. “I imagine not, with how long you’ve been alone.”

“Too long,” he admit. “I… forgot. Forgot what it was like to have someone to confide in. I will miss this when I go.”

“As I will miss you.” She smiled bittersweetly. “But I’ll be here, should you ever return again.”

He met her gaze and felt the chill of guilt sink into his chest. What if she was hoping for him to stay? He certainly hoped she wasn’t building any false hope or expectations…

“...perhaps. I can’t make any promises.”

“I don’t need promises.” She replied. “Nor anything more than you have to offer. I simply… want you to know that I won’t be going anywhere should you have need to vent your frustrations, one way or another.”

He chuckled softly and smiled despite himself.

“I will certainly keep that in mind.”

#ffxivwrite2024 #ffxiv #kin rehw marouc #miriam lyros #miri's father would absolutely kill kin for this even though they're adults and it was her idea #tbh he'd probably just die of shock if he knew half the things she got up to while off doing her own thing #we're going to pretend i didn't originally post this to my main blog by mistake #it's fine I fixed it

3 notes · View notes

officially-other · 4 months

Text

A longer post because there were some fun dragon things today

I'll be posting the other half (which actually happened first, chronologically) on my other account, but this is the part that I feel like writing out first. Obligatory UPG disclaimer, this is a personal experience so it has no basis in anything other than my own beliefs!

So! Crash course in how I believe reincarnation works for context: I believe that I- and everyone else- have what one would call a "higher self." Think of this like a lake, and each individual incarnation is a little whirlpool. Still part of the overall lake, but it's an individual at the same time. Or, I suppose, you could view it as a cake with pieces or whatever other metaphor you can think of- point is, my soul is whole but I am not all there is to me. My higher self is more aware, and not stuck in a physical body like I am.

My mother works very closely with her higher self. I... somehow just never saw that as an option for me. When I realized I was dragonkin, I immediately knew why; big huge dragon + little tiny human who's easily intimidated and doesn't know that they're a dragon yet = bad time. After I realized that, I decided that when I had the time I wanted to sort of say hello. Today I finally got the chance to meditate and have a chat.

I've understood my Amphitere nature is the draconic form that, in this lifetime, is likely the form it'd be most useful to know of and relate myself to. Not my truest form, but the one that will FEEL truest in this lifetime. So I knew higher self wasn't gonna look like that.

He is... fucking huge. I expected that, but it was still surprising. I couldn't get a good clear image of the body plan or anything, but he had feathered wings. The thing was; he was gold. I asked if he was actually gold, because that would mean that me and my mom separately picked up on that, and the following conversation ensued:

"Wait, so are you really gold?" "Yes.... sort of?" "WAIT OH MY GOD ARE YOU SHRIMP COLORS?????"

He laughed and said yes. I asked in the first place because it was something I just suddenly knew intuitively; gold is really the closest in energy that a human can perceive, but if I had a wider spectrum of color available to me he wouldn't look the same.

After some chatting I asked if he could help me connect us a little better, because I just... have a hard time looking at this massive fucking dragon and going "you're me, but big! :D" like no that's a dragon. Who am I to claim that that's me. Wtf. And after a moment, I just... sort of felt these massive fucking wings?? not my blue ones, but HIS wings. On my back. The full wingspan of them wouldn't even fit in my fucking room, it was wild.

Also, Loki and I have worked together WAY LONGER THAN I THOUGHT???? I asked higher self if he had worked with Loki, not as me, but as him and he and Loki looked at each other like they were in on some joke and I wasn't. I shit you not, he just sort of...

"Not... all lifetimes, just most of them-" LIKE THAT'S WAY MORE THEN A DOZEN, WHO WAS GONNA TELL ME THAT???

Anyway the punchline of this was the "shrimp colors" I just wanted to put the rest of that so I remembered, I fucking cannot deal with how weird my practice is getting over here XD

6 notes · View notes