#right now Alphie is well aware that Junior's pissed at him

[jumpingjollyrancher]

Day 5: Stamp

Alphinaud so often has a quill in hand that Junior assumes most of his actual job with the Scions is scribe work. They’re a group of scholars, so he’s not surprised by the number of them that can read and write neatly; he’s just glad he can do both as well. It also makes sense to make the youngest do the writing. Alphinaud might have his grand ambitions, but he still has to prove himself useful.

Really, Minfilia lets him get away with too much as it is. (Junior will learn later to throw fewer stones from the glass panes of his house.)

In Ishgard, the Scions are lost and there’s hardly anything to be written down about. Junior runs errands for Lord Edmont; Tataru twines her fingers into the threads spun at the Forgotten Knight. Alphinaud…writes.

Junior finds him at the writing desk in the small living area set between their rooms. His writing already covers a page and he’s well past halfway on the second. For a moment, he considers upending the ink over it all. It’s petty, cruel even. Alphinaud is to blame for their being trapped here, but Junior is a very small bit of a bigger person than that.

He’s sure Alphinaud has noticed him standing at the corner of the desk, but he keeps his head down and his hand moving. Junior arches an eyebrow and scans the desk again. Is it a plea bargain he’s scratching out? Will he sell Junior to them for his own name? Junior leans forward and then spots the envelope.

He picks it up and now, Alphinaud looks up at him. “Oh, Xher’a, I didn’t see you come in.”

Junior ignores him, squinting slightly at Alphinaud’s loopy script. Give him the scratchiest handwriting and he can translate it, but this is still neat for all its styling. “Sharlayan,” he reads. “Why a letter to Sharlayan? They don’t give a damn about the rest of us.” He tosses it back on the desk.

Alphinaud shrugs. “I’m not asking for their intervention. It’d be more pointless than my efforts to involve Ishgard in their old alliance.” He runs his fingers along the edge of one of the pages, eyes fixed on his own script. “I’m, ah, updating my parents on things. In a manner of speaking at least. I’d rather they not worry overmuch.”

That makes Junior snort. “Yeah, what is there to worry about?” It’s sharp, pointed, and he can see Alphinaud’s shoulders curl forward. It doesn’t make him feel better, but it sure doesn’t make him feel worse. Still he asks, “What about the other one? Your sister?”

A tired exhale explains nearly as much as the words after. “Alisaie will do as she wishes. So long as no one makes the mistake of thinking she is me, everything will be fine.” Alphinaud adjusts his papers again. “I’ve one for her as well to leave with Lord Haurchefant at Camp Dragonhead. If she passes through, someone will see it to her.”

Junior asked and still only has a grunt for a response. “I’m going to bed,” he says shortly. “Then I’m leaving early to Falcon’s Nest. Tell Tataru to stay out of trouble until I get back.” He turns away, headed for the door to his room.

“Good night, Xher’a.” Alphinaud’s voice is polite, almost friendly. He has yet to stop being so no matter how Junior snaps at him.

His door is half open when he hears Alphinaud resume writing. Junior holds it still and glances back. From here, Alphinaud looks too small for the desk. It’s sized for an adult Elezen and his feet just touch the floor. But he pays it no mind, focused again on his writing. Junior can only wonder just how often he’s done this. And whether or not his parents or his sister ever think to answer.

Alphinaud is outside when he leaves in the morning. He waves Junior off and then hands two stamped envelopes off to the waiting courier.

Maybe Junior will ask if he’s tried to reach anyone in Eorzea when he gets back. Maybe.