#poly silgence readerinsert

[finalfantasyxivwritings]

Echoes of Mortality

AO3 Version

Relationship: Silence/Reader/Indulgence (OCs)

Rating: Teen

Summary: It's been a long time since the Lightwardens Indulgence and Silence have understood what it meant to be alive. Despite this, they've found feelings in but one fragile mortal who serves to remind them of who they once were, if only vaguely. It is through that mortal's kindness that they are anchored to the world anymore--and for them, the wardens would do anything to keep their mortal safe and happy

....even if it means they have to wait outside a city, allowing their mortal but a short excursion among their own kind.

More information: Silence (Samilen) | Indulgence (Khalja)

-

It’s late into the evening, though anyone may be hard-pressed to notice that by a simple glance up towards the sky. Where once-fabled darkness may have filled one horizon to the next, there’s nothing but washed out brightness that echoes across the thicket of ethereal clouds–it’s as bright as it would be at noon, with yet the only difference between the times being the mild chill on the air and a lack of people shuffling in the streets.

Despite the seeming freeze of time, mortals are yet stubborn to their habits.

‘I hate this.’

The words come unspoken from a form that stands under the eaves of a building, one of several that lay abandoned on the outskirts of the settlement, where next to nobody would think to travel–especially not when so many sin eaters were readied for any excuse to hunt. The form is humanoid, but it’s hard to pick out any detail beneath the thick cloak that covers their body.

The only point of detail that can be seen comes but in the moments when their hands slip out of the cloak and gestures in what some may know as handspeak.

A chuckle comes at a response to the silent words from the form’s partner, another cloak-covered shape that stands against the wall of a second building so close to the former that the two nameless forms are in relative shade despite the everburning light above them.

“And yet here you are,” the second form but purrs, having to duck their head slightly to be level with the first. “Though, I see not why you could hate these moments–do you not even mildly lust for the feeling of being alive again?”

‘I am alive right now,’ the first signs with motions nearly as sharp as the metal clawed gauntlets over their fingers. ‘It is mortality you speak of so fondly, which you are quick to forget all of the pain that came with it.’

“Worthwhile flaws, of course.”

A breeze flutters through the space between the two buildings, gently catching on the hoods of both shapes and offering but a glance at the faces hidden in darkness.

To the ignorant, both appear as if living marble statues. Their skin is pale, bleached completely of any color that may have once resided. It is so bright, in fact, that it gives off a vague glow, as if their very flesh is wont to revel in the very light they hide from.

The first form, a head shorter than their partner, turns a gaze towards them.

From beneath the hood, a pair of golden eyes burn as hot as the sun, irises laid upon a backdrop of ink that contrasts starkly with the empty white of their skin.

‘There is but one mortal worthy of our time and attention now.’

It’s hard to read the expression upon their face, especially when the words are communicated through silent motion alone. Still, the second form offers but another chuckle–the noise sounds inhuman, a rumble as strong as thunder that is somehow contained within their ribcage.

“You need not explain that to me, Silence.”

‘When your obsessions seem to lie elsewhere, I question that.’ The hard gaze of the now named form, Silence, turns back outside of the shaded alley. Searching. ‘I hate having to conceal my light.’

“You would do well to do it more often, my fellow warden,” says the other. “You would be far more comfortable with practice, and then you would be able to join  our dear mortal more often–how you not tire of that drab cave I haven’t the slightest clue.”

Even from beneath the thick cloak, one might even be able to see a faint glow rise and fall with the creature’s amusement.

Silence tries not to listen despite there being some vague truth in the others words. As much as he would like to deny any length of connection to his past mortal life, some habits truly could not be killed in the transformation that ascended him to he creature he is now.

A monster, some may even say, and Silence would not be one to disagree with the accuracy in it.

Still, the words yet catch on nerves. He turns his burning gaze to meet with a set of eyes, equally bright in the colors of polished emeralds. Though he is forced to restrain some level of fury in his motions for the sake of letting his light leak for form break, it’s not difficult in the slightest to see his normally-cold expression crack.

‘So says the warden named for his craven search of debauchery. Indulgence. I dare think you would even have your way with our mortal in the center of this town if they would but allow it.’

The taller of the forms says nothing, though the smirk along his snow-white lips is all the answer needed to confirm the accusation–as well as show for his infamous lack of shame in it.

It’s not worth a fight, though Silence assumes his fellow lightwarden is getting more amusement out of it than anything. As a statement, he crosses his arms within the sweet concealing embrace of the cloak, mind finally wandering back to the thoughts of the one mortal he and Indulgence were yet waiting on.

How long did they need to purchase food? Wasn’t all sustenance the same? It had been so many years since Silence had yet breathed air, so many moons since he could recall feeling a heartbeat, the warmth of the sun upon his now stone-cold flesh.

Perhaps that is where Indulgence holds truth. Maybe, in some regard, there is the faintest cloying desire to feel it again; mortality, being alive in a way that set him apart from his current twisted form. To eat and drink and enjoy the foolish notions of hope and courage and sacrifice.

Maybe, in a fashion, it is why his obsessive desire for the mortal runs so deeply. Why he frets over them, lusts for them, wants to curl his entire being around their soft and fragile form and keep the entire world from even tainting their soul with its cruel nature.

Indulgence may remember much of the good in his past life, but Silence too remembers much of the bad. The trauma, he pain, the endless cycle of death and sacrifice that made no dent in the history he sought to change. The shorter of the two lightwardens is glad that the other hasn’t yet asked about the guilt that yet lingers deep within his breast, an emotion that has never once left him no matter how long he’s existed as a blighted creature of holy influence.

It is as much his own emotion as it isn’t–Samilen Jawantal is a name he but barely remembers, just in kind as much of the man’s memories. They are there in his soulless body, but faint, like old dreams long forgotten in the hours of wakefullness. Silence is sure that his fellow lightwarden must have similar experiences to his past life as a warrior as Khalja Kahkol, but the topic has never been brought up for them to discuss at length.

And Silence doesn’t want it to disturb their mortal.

Still so gentle, so loving, so very fragile in mind and body both and yet with a glorious well of aether untainted by the twisted and deformed world around them.

They are the only reason Silence hasn’t tried to rid the emotions and memories through the spilling of blood. The only reason he hasn’t tried to cleanse the world of its sin, to swallow it entirely in the burning embrace of light. They are the one reason that mortality is yet a mystery to him, for how could such creatures birth such wonder and beauty?

For a once-man who prizes knowledge and logic and the knowing of all things he can wrap his timeless self around, the answer yet escapes him. The purpose, the reason, the point is beyond his godly grasp.

“Silence,” the sound of Indulgence’s vaguely inhuman voice catches the warden’s attention, pulling him from deep in decade’s old thoughts. “I believe they are finishing their lovely little errands of sorts. I can sense their sweetness growing closer.”

‘Then let us leave this place,’ Silence motions with his hands, the vague shape of Miqo’te ears flicking somewhere beneath the hood. ‘I grow weary of being near such a cluster of noise and futility.’

They leave from where they are hidden, timing near-perfect as you come hurrying down the messy dirt road, a full basket clutched tight to your body and somewhat overfilled with goods.

“Sorrysorrysorry-” your words run into one another so that it sounds like one noise, a look of worry laden in your eyes. “I know you gave me only a bell, but there was a new merchant in town and I got distracted and-”

“Shush,” Indulgence coos, silencing your words and bringing a softness to your expression. “A few extra moments of discomfort is worth the joy it brought you.”

Silence says nothing, nor does he make any motions with his hands. You may say that the warden looks annoyed, but it’s hard to say for certain when his expression is always rather unreadable with half of his face constantly hidden beneath a mask of metal.

He but looks at you with those eyes of burning gold, ones you once heard about burning men with but a single glance. Though you don’t feel even the slightest tinge of fire upon your skin, you do feel a blooming warmth in your belly from the attention–the weight of the gaze brings forth a great many feelings, if only because you can yet sweetly remember how the creature held you in his arms the night prior, promising you in the embrace of climax that you would be allowed an hour among your people.

Mortals, as the wardens oft referred to them.

His eyes linger for a moment, then flick towards your hands.

“What is it that you’re holding, dear one?” Indulgence asks, approaching you gently, his height seeming to tower over you even when in his echoed form. Perhaps it is the fact that he cannot change the lifeless white of his skin, or the burning brightness of his eyes, things that showcase their otherness even without their size, glow and ethereal wings.

You suddenly remember yourself and fumble for words.

“Oh! That merchant I spoke about–they….they were trying to sell some flowers they managed to grow and….”

Nervously, you hold out one of your hands; clutched against your palm are but two simple flowers, old names lost to time when so rarely are they able to grow in the nutrient-scarce soil. They are half-withered, but yet they peak with colorful petals and strong stalks that allow both Indulgence and Silence to see how they must have but recently bloomed.

Silence’s eyes widen for but a fraction of a moment at the gesture, but it is Indulgence who response first; the once Au Ra reaches his hands out to gently hold your fist within them, as if he was cupping something fragile.

“Your kindness is hardly worthy for creatures like us,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded and staring at the flowers for a few moments. Despite how he touches your skin, you notice that he does not touch the flowers directly in any way. “We will find a place for them to live their last days when we return home.”

You feel heat start to gather over your cheeks, but you’re not given more than a few moments to consider the feeling before both wardens move; Indulgence takes the basket with a gentle care, while Silence pulls you into his arms though careful of the cold touch of his claws as they wrap around your form.

He doesn’t look at you as the wardens all but disappear into the light-washed lands.

Still, even as the two creatures shed their cloaks and retake their true forms, even when they appear not even minutely mortal, even as they glow in layers of ethereal light-bleached aether, you swear you can see the faintest touch of a blush somewhere along the top of Silence’s cheeks.

Though monsters as they may be, there was but a shred of who they once were still left–and moments like this prove it to you.