#she might comes to terms that Louisoix did what he had to

[rune-writes]

Horizon

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV

Word Count: 946

Rating: G

Pairing: WoL & Thancred

Summary: In which Nayra finds solace in the horizon after the events of Aitiascope.

Notes: I'm slowly posting my ffxivwrite fics on tumblr (though I've only written 5 lol), but yea, Day 2 of FFXIVwrite2024: Horizon. For context, my WoL, Nayra, lost her family in the Calamity. She partially blames herself for it, because she's the only one who survived. She is learning to come to terms with it with the help of her friends. During Aitiascope, she heard her parents' voice urging her forward. This story is set right after.

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Nayra turned around and spotted Thancred climbing the winding stairs with two large glasses in his hands. She cocked an eyebrow, lips curling into a tiny smirk. Thancred acted like he didn’t see it and instead held a glass out to her. 

“Care for a pint?” he asked. 

“You know I don’t drink.”

“Very true. Which is why Tataru sent me with another glass filled with juice instead. Apple.” He switched his hands and indeed, the new glass did look like it contained juice—if Tataru didn’t pull any tricks. Not that she would. Nayra smiled somewhat wryly before accepting the glass—one of those wooden mugs from the Last Stand. She swirled the mug, then decided to take a sip. A sharp tang of sourness with a hint of sweetness washed down her throat. Apple, indeed. 

“Thanks,” she said. 

“You’re welcome.” He took the spot next to her, leaning over the railing and resting his arms on the balustrade. 

Nayra studied his profile for a moment. She had no reason. She just… watched him. The way he gazed out the open expanse of the sea, how his pupils constricted and his brows winced when the light caught his eyes, how he brought the rim of his glass to his lips and his throat bobbed as pint—or whatever he had brought with him—went down it. It was a moment after he rested his glass arm on the railing once more that he let out a quiet chuckle and glanced sideways at her. 

“You’re gonna bore a hole in my head with the way you’re looking at me.”

Nayra blinked. She hadn’t realized. 

She cleared her throat then took another gulp of her juice. “So what brings you here?” she asked instead. 

Thancred barked another laugh. “For your information, this has been my secret place since before you came here.”

“It’s not so secret with how open it is,” Nayra retorted with a smile. 

They stood on the outermost platform of Sharlayan’s harbor—a circular half tower connected to the rest of the dock by a set of winding stairs. As open as it was, people rarely went there, except, probably, one of the Ironhearts, a family of explorers Nayra never failed to meet in her journey. Babeth Ironheart wasn’t present at the moment, and Nayra had deemed it the best place to be with her thoughts. It wasn’t that she was averse to companionship, but had Ironheart been there, Nayra might have found herself chatting with her about the places they’d visited instead—a feat now made possible with Thancred’s entrance. 

“‘Tis a good place, though,” Thancred concurred. “The sea spreads before you like a glistening sheet of diamonds; the sky expands as far as the eye could see. You don’t often see such an unobstructed view of the horizon.” He paused. “I used to come here because it reminded me of Limsa.” 

Nayra cradled her glass in her hands. She took a sip, then turned around to face the sea. “Did you used to miss Limsa?” she asked.

“I missed the chaos—the cacophony. You have to know: for a street urchin, Sharlayan wasn’t exactly my kind of city.” Nayra laughed; yes, she could see that. “The amount of headache I’d given Master Louisoix and my mentor. Though I ended up acclimating to it, sooner or later, but sometimes I’d go here when I wanted to have some peace of mind.” 

This place did have that calming quality to it, or perhaps it was only their nature to seek the open sky and open sea when their heart and mind lay unsettled. All her childhood, she had always wanted to see where the sky met the earth with neither mountains nor forests to obstruct her view. Her father had been a traveling merchant and whenever he returned home, he would show her the most exotic things he’d found on his journey. So time and again, she would ask to come with him, and she had—she, her sister, and their mother, coming along on his longer expeditions. The first time she’d beheld the sea, the width and breadth had taken her breath away. 

They’d gone to Aitiascope the night before—had met all the people she’d loved and lost throughout the years. Sometimes, Nayra liked to think that she had buried her past behind her, but the moment she heard her parents’ voices as she was making her way out of the aetherial sea, her time had stopped—enough that G’raha had noticed her halt and asked what was wrong. Tears she hadn’t realized she’d been holding trickled down one by one. She’d turned around, expecting—hoping—to see them, to catch a glimpse of them, but she found nothing in the bridge connecting the facility to the elevator. Nothing except coalescing motes of silver light. 

‘Nayra…’ 

Her breath had hitched at the familiar voice. 

‘We’re so proud of you, Nayra…’

Nayra swirled her cup once more. The sky was clear enough that she could almost see her reflection on her drink, murky and dark. 

Thancred hadn’t said anything else. He’d just sipped his pint and looked unflinchingly toward the distant horizon. No doubt he had other problems to worry about, but Nayra had a feeling she knew the real reason he was there. She chuckled to herself. 

“I should thank Tataru for bringing me the juice,” she said. “And an apology. I seem to worry everyone a lot.”

“As long as you know.” Thancred raised his glass. “You’re always there for us at our lowest. I need you to know that we’re always there for you too.”

A small smile tugged at Nayra’s lips. She bowed her head. “Thank you.” 

[dat-assize]

Cattail: is your character at peace with themselves? Why or why not? Idk I'm on mobile. Think that's how it was worded. Anyway here's an ask 💙

Hmmm...is Lily at peace with herself? She’d like to think she is. The truth is, nightmares will bug her for quite some time, maybe until she realizes that everything she had gone through was...a form of closure, really. At least when it comes to Louisoix. It’s going to take a hard kick in the tail for her to realize that, though.She might not ever be at peace in the water, though. Nope. Noooooooope. Her and the ocean are no longer compatible. Which, quite honestly, makes for some hilarious moments.@alyeisia ♥

[chrysalispen]

upon pale dawns, prologue I: to be the water’s care,

my adaptation of a realm reborn- this will probably go up to praetorium and then have a separate longfic for the patches, but we’ll see how long the drafts get. 

at any rate! two prologues. you can find the AO3 link HERE

chapter under the cut.

====

“Land!”

It was a blessed word after weeks at sea. The shout arose from the sailor standing watch at the ship’s prow, leather-bound spyglass in one meaty paw.

At that single utterance, every passenger aboard the Explorer found themselves immediately drawn topside, and the snow-tressed Elezen girl standing on tiptoes to tilt over the tarred and salt-crusted wooden railing was no exception. The ocean crossing from Sharlayan was long and rarely uneventful and the ship’s passengers had spent most of it below decks, weathering the heavy rains and stomach-turning waves from perilous storms grown only more tempestuous in the handful of years since the Calamity.  

A burly Roegadyn crewman standing nearby, his hands busied with rope, squinted sharply at his unexpected visitor. She ignored his presence with a single-minded determination- there were more important matters afoot. Her focus lay upon the half-obscured outline of grey-blue and faded silver that broke the endless monotony of the open sea. Setting one patten-clad foot in the deck railing, she hoisted her weight up and forward to get a better view.

“Alisaie,” a young voice cut in, sharp and authoritative, “get down from there. If you lose your balance you’ll fall overboard.”

“I won’t lose my balance.”

“I sincerely doubt the good crew of our passenger ship would fancy diving into the water to pluck you from the waves, sister.” Alisaie spared a glance over her shoulder, bristling at the speaker. He could have been her mirror image right down to their attire, save the blue ribbon fluttering from its secured place at the base of a thin length of braided platinum hair, identical to her own. “You can see perfectly well with both your feet upon the deck.”

Alisaie responded with an indignant huff, but lowered herself so that her feet were once more flush with the oaken planks. “Seven hells, if there is one thing I will not miss about this journey, it is your incessant clucking.”

“What?”

“You heard me, Alphinaud. Like a mother hen, if she had fewer feathers than words.”

“I am only trying to look out for you. For both of us.” His brow knitted as he spoke- with either worry or disapproval, Alisaie couldn’t say. “Father would never let me hear the end of it if I let you fall into the ocean of all things.”

“I know! I know.”

“And if you keep fidgeting with your hair-ribbon like that you’re going to lose it.”

As if to punctuate his words, an errant gust whipped the end of her braid from its loose pin between her fingers. Her eye caught a flash of bright red from the tapered ends of the ribbon as it fluttered in the salty breeze like a loosened sail.

“Yes, mother,” her fingers fell away to fidget at her sides instead, “Do I have your permission to remain above deck, at the very least?”

Alphinaud gave her a startled series of blinks. He hadn’t slept well on the trip, being far more prone to seasickness, and the deep bruised circles beneath his eyes gave them an owlish cast. “Of course you can stay here, if you like,” he said. “It’ll be several bells before we reach the harbor, after all.”

Gods! Why are you always like this? The furious thought flitted through the shallows of her mind, surfacing briefly with the flare of her temper. It’s hardly a wonder that father wouldn’t trust you to-

Hells. Wasn’t worth it. Like as not he’d barely noticed her fatigue let alone her frustration.

Alisaie suppressed an exasperated sigh and watched her twin’s retreating back for a moment as he made his way down the stair into the bowels of the ship, before turning her attention once more to the encroaching sliver of shoreline that sat just beyond the white-capped waves.

Landfall couldn’t come soon enough.

~*~

"It's seen better days, hasn't it," he opined, "Tupsimati."

They had only just managed to scrape together the funds to afford proper furniture, rather than borrowing pieces or using what few battered desks and chairs remained upon the premises. Surplus cots and side tables for the shared sleeping quarters were still in the process of arriving at the Waking Sands, piece by piece, at great expense and after a good deal of haggling over the cost to bring them by chocobo carriage from Ul’dah.

Given the recent rise in imperial activity throughout the region, none of them had felt it particularly prudent to advertise their presence to the realm at large and so in the years since the merging of the two organizations, much smaller in the wake of the Carteneau disaster, the center of operations had remained austere by dint of necessity. There was little of value or note even in the solar save the large mahogany desk with its teak inlay - a gift (others might call it a bribe, he thought with sour good humor) from their erstwhile landlord - and the reliquary which had been mounted upon the wall since that fateful day of their ‘founding’.

His companion stood behind the desk with her back to the door, and her posture had not once wavered from the moment he had entered to the moment he had spoken.

"As have we all, Thancred."

He did not miss the gentle rebuke within her words. The smile that played upon his lips became faintly rueful - as conversation starters went, he supposed it had been rather lacking - and without another word approached until he could round the desk to stand at her side. Five years barely seemed enough for all the growing she had done, assailed by mysterious visions and driven by internal conflict over her strange gift all the while.

Nevertheless, in that short amount of time the girl he had known had become a charismatic young woman.

As Thancred watched the paths of her fingers in their idle drifting, crossing the surface of the newly varnished wood over grain and groove, he followed her gaze to its focus upon the wall. The mounted case which she now contemplated was new, although its contents were not. It sat a few fulms behind and above the bulky mahogany desk at the solar’s heart, and tucked behind the transparent bulwark of crystal glass lay all that remained of Louisoix Leveilleur’s final and heroic deed: the crest of a splintered cane with a stone bearing the symbol of Thaliak.

Metaphor, he mused, for the disaster wrought upon the realm five summers past. Or perhaps one better suited for the old man’s ghost- one which seemed to linger still within these halls.

“You don’t seem as well pleased as one would expect.” His words rang through the sandstone-walled solar, their echoes hollow and bland. He noted with some small concern the distant cast to her expression, as though she were listening to something he could not hear. “Is it not to your liking?”

“Hm? Oh, no. ‘Tis not the arrangements which bother me. In fact, I think this shall serve our needs quite well for the time being.” Her fingers tapped a quiet rhythm against the desk’s surface and her attention returned to the broken artifact above. “...Not a day goes by that I don’t find myself wishing Master Louisoix were still here with us. I suspect in my heart- I like to think- that he has gone to a well deserved rest. But I still…”

She didn’t finish the statement, but further words were unnecessary. Sorrow muted the bright spring sky blue of her eyes.

“I shouldn’t carry on like this,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for?”

“It is unbecoming of me to bemoan my lot. Everyone has lost so much to the Calamity, and we have borne far lighter burdens than most.” Her shoulders slumped for just the briefest moment before righting her posture again, but not so quickly that it escaped Thancred’s notice. “Even so, I can’t help but wonder what he would have done differently. Whether or not he would have negotiated better terms for-”

“Minfilia, please.” Her hands, seemingly placid at her sides, gripped the leathers of her tassets with a nigh-bruising force. Thancred unfolded one fist with care, as he might have done with an infant’s fingers, cradling them in one rough palm. “I don’t think anyone here is expecting you to be Louisoix Leveilleur, or even to fill his shoes. Besides which, the circumstances are entirely different.”

“I suppose.”

“Everyone else has had to start anew on some level or other. We’re hardly an exception,” Thancred shrugged. “And you have the words from your vision to guide us.”

“Yes,” she said, with a note of quiet conviction. He answered with a brief squeeze of her fingers before releasing her hand. “Yes, of course.”

“If you think this ‘crystal bearer’ She mentioned will make themselves known soon, then ‘twould be a benefit to us all to keep our eyes open for their coming. Would it not?” Thancred paused. “Is that what you wished to discuss?”

“Once the others arrive, yes.” Whatever hidden place to which Minfilia’s mind had wandered in that moment, she had clearly returned from it. Her gaze was clear and steady and her voice firm. “Truly, ‘tis wonderful - and serendipitous - that we have managed to keep this roof over our heads. And of course, I am grateful for the sultana’s continued assistance-”

“If not her ministers’ patronage,” Thancred said dryly.

“Quite.” Minfilia drummed close-trimmed nails thoughtfully against the desk. “But I do worry that it isn’t enough. These advantages will avail us little if we do not take steps to sustain our presence. It has been nearly five summers since we chose to join forces and disband the Path, and we are still struggling merely to make enough coin to pay for this space. We need more people, Thancred.”

His smile faded and the furrow of his brow deepened.

“I can’t help but feel as though I’m missing something. Should we be concerned about our funds?”

“Tataru came to me a few days past. We’ve received notification from the East Aldenard Trading Company stating that the lease on the land will be up for renewal by the end of the year, and that the rate will be increasing accordingly.” Minfilia winced. “...By which I mean to say: yes, I think it prudent to find other means to fund our activities. She agreed.”

“Then seek other means we must,” he shrugged. “For what it’s worth, I think Tataru is within her rights to be concerned. The whole realm is still barely keeping its head above water as it is. We can ill afford to remain dormant, especially if it means insolvency.”

“Nor can we tarry overlong in debating the best approach to our other concerns,” she said. “The beast tribes have made it clear they will not wait for us to replenish our numbers ere they attempt to summon their gods yet again.”

“And there is also the Empire to consider,” Thancred pointed out dryly. “Two new castra in the space of as many years. Either the Garleans turned to engineering projects to amuse themselves, or the Black Wolf has been quite busy.”

“Have you heard anything?”

“Hm. Not as such, but... I have received requests from the sultana as to whether or not we believe there is aught to fear from the Garleans. More than once.”

“It’s a valid concern,” Minfilia pointed out. “Castrum Meridianum is but a stone’s throw away from one of the biggest Syndicate concerns in the realm.”

“Yes, and what concerns me the most is that at present I cannot say definitively, one way or another, if we face further incursions. We need more information on their movements.”

“On that we most certainly agree. I realize we’re stretched thin, but we need more people.”

“Agreed. But all things considered, I doubt any of us have the time or inclination for a recruitment drive. Necessary or not.”

Minfilia said, very carefully:

“Perhaps not. But… if, while you are afield, you should happen to come across more… talents, then ‘tis all the better if you send them our way. Not everyone you meet will be suitable, of course, but some few will and I think we can only be stronger for it if we increase our numbers as we go.”

Thancred flashed her a roguish grin. “That’s a very roundabout way of saying you wish for me to return to Ul’dah, Lady Antecedent.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“You could have asked! As well you know,” he countered. “I have enjoyed my little vacation, but there is much to be done still.”

“If you prefer,” Minfilia said, her eyes twinkling with suppressed amusement, “I could send Urianger to the sultana’s court in your stead.”

“Urianger! Gods forbid. He’d hate every second.” He could just picture it. Bookish, eccentric Urianger looming over the diminutive lord of the Syndicate’s trading routes, intoning a passage from one of his scrolls. “I see no need to fix a method that is not broken. Leave us each to our own devices. I’ll go to Ul’dah and do what I do best.”

One of her slim brows tilted. “Charming the local maidens?”

“Young lady,” he said, dark eyes narrowed, but the corners of his mouth, twitching upwards, betrayed his hidden mirth. Minfilia only laughed and patted his smooth cheek.

“Jests aside, there are other reasons I would have an ear kept to the ground just now, and I would hardly trust anyone else with such a sensitive task. Will you do this for me?”

His teasing smile faded as he looked down at the person whose steady presence he prized above all else upon the star. She was his family, this slim graceful girl with her wide eyes and gentle, knowing smile and quiet strength - it would be easy to mistake her softness for weakness, not to see the steel within.

So thinking, his keen eye caught the slight tilt of Minfilia’s chin.

She was not asking, he realized. She was informing him. All she needed was the affirmation they both knew would be forthcoming, and she awaited it with her customary patience. And why should she not expect it? There was, after all, precious little she could ask of him that Thancred Waters would not be willing to attempt. He knew it as well as she did.

His smile returned in force.

“Tell me what you need from me,” he said, “and I’ll see it done.”

[winduphaurchefant]

REALLY LONG CHARACTER SURVEY » Reese Farouel

RULES.  Repost, don’t reblog! Tag 10! Good luck!

TAGGED BY. @to-the-voiceless

TAGGING. @fivebrights and anyone else who wants to do it since the rest of flowr has been tagged

BASICS.

FULL  NAME : Charalise Farouel

NICKNAME : Reese, which she uses instead of her actual first name. It stuck.

AGE : 28

BIRTHDAY : 28th day of the 6th umbral moon (12/28)

ETHNIC  GROUP : Elezen / Wildwood and Duskwight parentage

NATIONALITY : Sharlayan

LANGUAGE / S : Eorzean Common, Sharlayan, and bits of some niche languages.

ORIENTATION : Bi (is inexperienced with the concept of polyamory but might be willing to try if it comes up)

RELATIONSHIP STATUS : In flowrverse (our fc where we are All wol)) she’s most likely taken by Haurchefant because there’s absolutely no fucking way he’d die on her watch. In-game universe is less concrete, her self esteem is quite low so she doesn’t actively seek relationships but she’s prone to getting crushes easily; Urianger being one of them.

HOME  TOWN / AREA : The Sharlayan Colony, Dravania

CURRENT HOME : A small cottage on the very fringes of the Lavender Beds. Also technically Fortemps manor and her room in the Pendants.

PROFESSION : Scholar (in the literal sense), Adventurer, and Warrior of Light 

PHYSICAL.

HAIR : Café au lait blonde. She used to have it quite long, reaching past her hips, not styled in any specific way but brushed at least. After the Seventh Umbral Calamity she’s kept it quite short for practical purposes and usually hacks away at it herself, much to her friend Lunya’s chagrin.

EYES : Almond shaped eyes of deep blue with a halo of gold around the pupil, accentuated by her thick brows which are uncommon for most Elezen.

FACE : An oval shaped face with a tall, straight nose. Not overly animated in her expressions since the calamity.

LIPS : Has somewhat pouty lips and a bad habit of lip biting

COMPLEXION : Fair skin that freckles easily, she has the ability to tan but makes sure to apply salves to her skin before leaving for areas with more intense sunlight. Lots of moles, with a few noticeable ones on her face.

BLEMISHES : None that are noticeable 

SCARS : A Lot. She has a very prominent scar across her back which she usually likes to cover up.

TATTOOS : None. She enjoys seeing other people’s tattoos but wouldn’t get one for herself, she hates feeling stuck with something.

HEIGHT : Average height for an Elezen at around 6′3″

WEIGHT : 180 lbs give or take, most of it is muscle

BUILD : Tall and lean, quite muscular but not very toned. Her muscles were built more for purpose and less for show, like a power lifter. She could probably roundhouse kick someones head clean off. Pear shaped.

FEATURES : Her prominent brows and two moles beside her right eye

ALLERGIES : No known allergies, but she can get sick very easily.

USUAL  HAIR  STYLE :  When it was long she usually just wore it down and free flowing, she does the same with her short hair although it doesn’t flow as much.

USUAL  FACE  LOOK : Her expression is usually quite stoic with a hint of Very Tired to spice things up. Is known frequently to come down with a case of RBF

USUAL  CLOTHING : Loose tunics and some fitted trousers and boots when she’s sitting around researching or not doing much, she’ll just pile on armour as needed. Starts to wear things that are a bit more form fitting or aesthetically pleasing as she becomes more comfortable with herself.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR / S : Heights, being trapped, death, death of loved ones, failure, being abandoned, and... spiders

ASPIRATION / S :  To just be... content. Surrounded by people she loves and who earnestly love her in return.

POSITIVE  TRAITS : Empathetic, resilient, compassionate, she is the unstoppable force and the immovable object.

NEGATIVE  TRAITS : She is the unstoppable force and the immovable object. Tends to bottle her feelings and has a hard time trusting people. Self-sacrificing. Low self worth.

MBTI : INFP-T (Mediator) 

ZODIAC : Althyk (Capricorn)

TEMPERAMENT : Cross between phlegmatic and melancholic

SOUL  TYPE / S : Server

ANIMALS : Dire wolf, lioness, sparrow

VICE HABIT / S: Prone to bouts of just... lying there. Doesn’t sleep very well so she ends up half finishing a lot of things.

FAITH : Unsure

GHOSTS ? : Yes.

AFTERLIFE ? : Possibly

REINCARNATION ? : Possibly

ALIENS ? : Anything’s possible!

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT : She really doesn’t like thinking about politics after being absolutely smothered by The Bibliothecs. Very left leaning

EDUCATION  LEVEL : Received a proper education at the Studium in Old Sharlayan, sponsored by a certain Archon. Her interests were too varied to become an Archon and was constantly belittled for her niche areas of study. If she only applied herself...

FAMILY.

FATHER : Barnimonchet Farouel. (Status Unknown)  Archon Barnimonchet was the foremost expert on aetherytes and aetherical travel. Having led repairs to multiple aetheryte systems across Eorzea and a member of the Antitower excursion team, he drifted (literally) quite frequently between the Studium and the colony. Despite his meek nature and tendency to ramble, there is no doubting that he was worthy of the title of Archon.

MOTHER : Nenne Farouel née Phillone (Status Unknown) Archon Nenne was a master in the studies of all things alchemical, including potions, crystal structures, and inks for grimoires and tomes. Her preferred area of study was researching ways to better the body and mind, noting the aetherical compositions of different beings and brewing revitalizing concotions; especially her recent invention which coined the term "Craftman's Tea", creating the recipe as a way to help her husband in his work. She often found herself in the Arboretum gathering ingredients and helping out her fellows tasked with groundskeeping, scolding tones of "Barn!" could be frequently heard echoing through the Telmatology quarter as her husband and formerly mentioned Archon fumbled his way through the vined walkways to visit her.

SIBLINGS : None

EXTENDED  FAMILY : No knowledge of extended blood family. The closest she had to a parental figure was Archon Louisoix who had originally offered to babysit her as a babe when her parents left on orders to study an aetherical disturbance, after which they disappeared. He took on the role as a surrogate parent for her, having no trust in Sharlayan’s current care system. Takes on an older sibling role with the younger scions.

NAME MEANING / S : I named her Reese Peepo because I like Reese’s Pieces and the peepo video was popular at the time. Charalise is a nonsense name I gave her to fit in with why she’s Reese. 

HISTORICAL  CONNECTION ?: none

FAVORITES.

BOOK : She loves history books with any knowledge predating the fourth astral era, and has been known to read the occasional romance novel when no one is looking. Has grown to hate learning about anything Allagan.

DEITY : No specific deity

HOLIDAY : Starlight Celebration

MONTH : October (Fifth umbral moon)

SEASON :  Fall/Winter

PLACE : Urth’s Gift

WEATHER : Rain

SOUND / S: Wind blowing through the trees, crackling of firewood, morning bird calls, the cello

SCENT / S :  Clean laundry, freshly baked goods, flowers, cut grass

TASTE / S :  Savoury, warm spices, nothing too sweet

FEEL / S : Heavy blankets, smooth crystal, soft leaves

ANIMAL / S : All

NUMBER : none

COLORS : Earthy colours and the blue of the ocean on a clear day

EXTRA.

TALENTS : Gardening, sword fighting, art, singing (she usually does it by herself), healing magic

BAD  AT : Staying level headed, opening up, decorating, fashion

TURN  ONS : Honesty, good sense of humour, kindness

TURN  OFFS : Cruelty, making fun of her interests, being ignored, arrogance

HOBBIES : Researching lost civilizations, anything creative, cooking

TROPES : Rage Breaking Point, It Sucks to Be the Chosen One, Big Fucking Sword, Adorkable, Conveniently an Orphan, Friend to All Living Things, Broken Hero,  I Just Want to Be Loved, Badass Bookworm

QUOTES : 

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 : If you could write your character your way in their own movie,  what would it be called,  what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?          

A1 : Probably a LOTR-esque high fantasy adventure movie

Q2 : What would their soundtrack/score sound like?          

A2 : Lots of cello and choir pieces

Q3 : Why did you start writing this character?          

A3 : She’s basically my self insert but with a little extra Oomph

Q4 : What first attracted you to this character?          

A4 :  She’s basically my self insert

Q5 : Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.

A5 : She’s not very expressive, she’s not used to being super goofy or anything which I am

Q6 : What do you have in common with your muse?          

A6 : Lots

Q7 : How does your muse feel about you?          

A7 : Probably pretty chill, would probably go and get pizza together

Q8 : What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with?        

A8 : Haurchefant intentionally or unintentionally tends to break her stony facade with his ceaseless flirting and a barrage of compliments which usually ends up with Reese either cracking a little smile or turning beet red and abruptly leaving the room. He brings out the morosexual in her. She instantly becomes brighter than the sun when she’s around anyone far younger than her, switching to a more motherly persona. Alphinaud and Alisaie receive the brunt of her affections before Ryne comes along. Neither will admit to the fact they both actually enjoy it.

Q9 : What gives you inspiration to write your muse?        

A9 : Honestly       listening to LOZ music since she’s basically Link but a little bit to the left

Q10 : How long did this take you to complete?          

A10 : F.....four days

[bride-and-bride]

Memory

Wrote that fanfic, just as I threatened! It’s about time passing and the Crystal Exarch, and the impressions people leave on you, and some other miscellaneous musings.

Uhhhhhh it’s straight up about Defiant Bride as the Warrior of Light, and contains major MSQ spoilers up tooooooo... about 80? Early 80!

He hadn't realized he'd forgotten her face until someone asked what she looked like. The weight of it hit G'raha Tia in a rush; the guilt, the embarrassment, the disbelief... he was the only one alive who'd seen her face in person, and he couldn't even remember it.

He tried to explain it in his head... she had just been one of many, back then, after Operation Archon. A Warrior of Light, not The. One of many with Hydaelyn's blessing and ties to the Scions. There'd been at least two dozen who'd come along when it came time to explore the tower; people of all races and skills, each blessed with the power to try and fight where normal people couldn't. It was reasonable, he was pretty sure, to forget one face in all that.

It wasn't. It didn't feel right, and he didn't feel better for reasoning it all out. Even if there'd been others, hadn't he spoken the most with her? Challenged her, worked with her? He should be able to close her eyes and see her clear as day, like no time had passed at all.

Or maybe it was the tower? Perhaps his rest had messed with his memories, robbed him of this vital thing, and it wasn't G'raha's fault. Maybe that's just how it was, travelling suspended through time. No one was around to tell him otherwise, so he clung to the idea like a drowning man would to a raft.

It made it strange, then, to piece it together as if he was the same as the others, as if he'd only read about her deeds, heard the stories passed on through the generations as a way to keep the nights a little brighter. Here was a mention of her butting horn to horn with a dragon, and a little piece filled in... Yes, just one horn, the other a stump. Rare in au-ra. Her face wasn't symmetrical. There was mention of the sight of her facing down the Empire's Prince Zenos, the gap in height, and there'd be a trickle... she wasn't tall, looked unassuming, even had a small stance, right up until she drew steel and became a solid guardian to match any other.

It was those moments that he treasured, that calmed him when he faced his plans ahead. He could remember something of her that books couldn't... he had some tiny piece of the Warrior of Light that'd been lost to time.

He didn't really know why that felt important to him, but as he drew up plans with the Ironworks, as they took step after step to the end... it felt important. It felt vital.

It still felt important when he realized when he'd arrived and began to come to terms with the time stretched before him. There were plans to make, yes, but now there was no one but him who knew her at all. He had to remember, or no one would.

---

G'raha privately felt like it was forgetting that had caused the mistake. He didn't have the right image (maybe he never had it), and so when he tried to call to the Warrior, he instead pulled...

...not the warrior of light.

That, he was pretty certain on, fuzzy recollection or not. She'd been significantly less hyuran, for one thing, and definitely not pale.

Not that he wanted to admit the potential source of his failing to Thancred, even after the weeks passed and he came around to something like understanding. It was easier if the man wasn’t completely sure of how he was doing things, if there was some vagueness... he seemed the type to dig into things if given the chance, and he was hardly prepared to explain.

It gave him a unique opportunity, though. For the first time in a hundred years... he could speak to someone from his own world. From his own time, technically, though he knew Thancred came from several years after he'd sealed himself away. Being a man from the First gave him natural cover to ask about the Source and all it's people, and just hearing familiar names and places gave him a comfort he’d been denied for decades.

Thancred didn't mind telling him about Ul'dah and the Scions and Ishgard and Ala Mhigo, and G'raha still felt a little shock of excitement when he'd relayed the information. Yes, he'd known all of it, but there was something so different about hearing it from someone who's been there rather than relayed as history! Thancred was, of course, exceedingly sparse on details on what he'd actually been doing... so sparse that G'raha could only immediately hope he could get the man to do the same in the first, to equal effect.

He never had the chance to ask about the Warrior of Light. Thancred seemed particularly careful with details about the Scions, and her most of all, and when at last he departed the Crystarium, he took any secrets with him.

---

The next two had had many, many more secrets between them. Only one was willing to share any.

Y'shtola saw only in aether, he'd come to learn, and quietly he feared she'd seen something in him that had made her so prickly, so guarded around him. Every time they spoke he had this sense that she was prodding him, dipping in and around his words, seeking to pull out every bit of meaning from even that which went unsaid. It was a bit unsettling, like she was trying to read his mind.

Or perhaps she was just like that? That wasn’t much better... he never quite knew how to handle such direct people, and there’d been a touch of relief when she had worked out what she wanted to do on her own and seen herself out.

Urianger was easier, comparatively. He knew scholars... He was one, even if Rammbroes had to chastise him a bit more than the other Students of Baldesion. The man was a direct disciple of Louisoix and they'd spoken before, long in the past. He had a twisty, secretive personality... and after a bit of conversation, proved to be remarkably fast on the uptake. He'd guessed at a lot more than G'raha had been trying to reveal, and in time it had become clear that they'd do better working side by side than trying to hide things.

He still couldn't quite get himself to ask about the Warrior of Light. Urianger and Y'shtola both were perceptive people, and he didn't want to know what meaning they might glean from untimely curiosity.

---

His third and fourth mistakes he regretted so keenly it made him ache. Alphinaud and Alisaie, the Leveilleur twins, older than he'd last seen them and yet still so young. He felt like they shouldn't have to be part of this fight, like it was wrong of him to snatch mere teenagers to the first.

Of course, he knew exactly what kind of battles they'd been fighting in the Source, and they hadn't deserved to be there, either. And of course, he also knew what they'd accomplished and that if they hadn't been there, things would've gone far worse all around. It didn't entirely soothe his mind.

Nor did the enthusiasm the pair showed in working in the First. Oh, yes, Alisaie had been ready to cut him to ribbons on arrival, and Alphinaud had had dozens of pointed questions and looked so worried he felt extremely bad, but once things had been sorted... Particularly once the twins were together again, and had spoken to Urianger, they were ready to fight at his side. They shouldn’t really have had to fight.

They were talkative.

They admired the Warrior of Light, and he'd realized the first time Alphinaud had brought her up that they saw her the same way G’raha did. They spoke of her with plain admiration, a person they looked up to but a person. She wasn't just a symbol of hope or light, she was their friend. Their partner. (They missed her. They were so worried about her. They hoped she was well, but had to trust she was...)

The desire he'd felt when he scoured the pages of 'Heavensward' finally had a chance at satisfaction, in the tales they shared with him. It was if he had a woodcut, a stark, rough black outline, and he'd added his own details, but here... these two could start adding color.

The warrior of light was a Paladin without peer, winner of some grand tournament in Ul'dah that Alisaie had been extremely disappointed to miss. It was rare, you see, that she could see the woman fight seriously off the battlefield; she was nervous in spars, always afraid of hurting someone more than she planned to

The warrior of light got along with Moogles, Alphinaud had relayed with no small amount of awe, even the ones high in the mountains who faffed about all day making nuisances of themselves. She'd taken to a job as an assistant post moogle, for some reason, and assisted the fuzzy things in restoring some stonework in the Churning Mists that Alphinaud was dying to visit in person.

The warrior of light was kind, they said, in every story and anecdote and tale they shared to keep themselves going. She was strong. She was resilient, and kept going when others could no longer. She was brave, no matter the odds. She would keep going, even without the scions at her side, and she could be trusted to stand tall until the end.

She was Defiant, they said. And G'raha Tia listened, and he pressed his hands against the gates and silently begged them to part and allow him to save her.

---

Three thoughts had run through G'raha's head as he exited the Crystarium, almost certain that his mistake in aim had dropped her no farther than Lakeland.

The first was professional. It was time to be the Crystal Exarch, and to be him so much that she would have no way of guessing that they'd met before, even in passing. He needed her to be on his side, and to understand, and to trust the Crystal Exarch even from their first meeting.

The second was gleeful. A hundred long years and more in slumber in the spires of the crystal tower... years and years and decades and decades of planning and painful decisions and research and mishaps all to save the First. And the Source, and the Warrior, though he couldn't help but think of those as the secondary goals, now. He'd lived here too long and seen too much to not dream of the darkness alongside his people.

The third was a nagging terror, that while he'd gotten it right the last four times... this time he might've fucked it up and dragged the Warrior of Light to the first without any clothing.

He saw Lyna speaking to someone by the gates, refusing them entry, and he felt it before he saw.

She stepped aside, and the Warrior of Light looked up at him.

For a moment his mind went blank. All the planning, the years of preparation all fleeing him for the breadth of a heartbeat.

She was so much smaller than he remembered. Lyna towered over a lot of folks, where as G'raha was usually the toweree, yet he still managed to claim a few inches on her. And she was... Soft, his brain provided, after searching though and discarding a variety of adjectives. He didn't think she was muscular but neither had he recalled her being quite so... rounded.

She met his gaze, and her eyes were mismatched, and he remembered something long forgotten, some centuries old memory nudged free.

"W-we're kind of opposites, have you n-noticed?" She'd asked, as they waited for news on some surveying, sitting side by side on a relatively safe patch of crystal in Mor Dhona. He'd been confused in the moment, but she'd gestured to her eyes and then his own, smiling. "Nearly t-the same color, your right and mine."

And she'd been right. At the time, his Allagan blood still slept, and he'd never noticed they each had a blue eye until she'd pointed it out. There'd been some feeling he'd had, realizing someone had paid that much attention to him... enough to notice something so small.

It came flooding back. She didn't talk much when she was down to business, and people thought her calm and stoic, but it was because of her stutter. She favored a longsword that seemed too big for her, because she'd grown up among Hellsguard and never quite adjusted to having things the right size for her. She didn’t understand magitek in the slightest and her expression was polite and glazed when Cid tried to explain anything. She hid her smile with one hand when she laughed, most of the time, and fiddled with her armor when she was tense, and took her tea so hot that it burned everyone else's mouths.

Defiant Bride, the Warrior of Light.

There was no hint of recognition in her eyes, but he'd been preparing for that for over a hundred years. It was, in fact, what he wanted. It only barely stung.

[lynnslight]

Waking the Sands

It had been a little over a month she'd been wandering in this past timeline, getting wrapped up in the adventures of primal slaying before she finally makes her way back to Vesper Bay. "I wonder how they'll take to me just barging in, but, a little friendly challenge should do my friends good." She chuckles to herself, as she makes her way towards the old hideout. Well, they weren't her friends yet in this timeline, but they certainly would be the people she remembered, at least so she hoped. "Well, no time like the present, let's make an entrance they won't ever forget." She smirked, and let her aether flare, a hand on her katana as she opened the door to the Waking Sands. Opened might be too gentle a term however, as she rushed through the front door, letting it slam with the force as she charged the Solar with determination. As if on cue for a practiced routine, Urianger and Y'shtola emerged from the room and focused their magic in a barrier to protect the Solar from intrusion.

"A thousand pardons." Urianger said with a hint of the sarcasm of his master and that the twins would one day share. "However, it is polite to knock before you enter a residence."

Shtola would interrupt him. "Focus would you, she's some kind of monster! She hasn't drawn her blade and I can still feel her force against our wall."

Lynn let out a battle cry, and moved to draw her blade before a roguish grin crept across another man's face. "The lady seeks to dance," Thancred would say with a smirk. "It is our job to oblige her then. Yda, keep her busy with me until Papalymo can come up with something!" Lynn pulls her blade, still in the sheath, preparing to defend herself as she would be kept busy by her two mobile combatants.

"With pleasure!" Yda would add, grinning, the mood strangely jovial for a sudden attack on their headquarters. It was this faith in eachother that Lynn remembered so fondly. She couldnt help but return the grin the others had on their faces.

"I must admit, your teamwork is excellent, and would see you succeed against any normal opponent, however, what would happen if someone happened to know your weaknesses." Lynn asks, taking about three steps, for each one of the pair attacking her. Her feet touched the wall behind her, and she slid underneath the two as they had planned to catch her in the corner. She chuckled lightly, clearly having the time of her life. She took a deep breath, grabbing a different crystal from her pack. A darkness would surround her just long enough to absorb the fireball Papalymo would send her way, before she'd finally draw her Katana, and slam it into the barrier.

It was at this moment that Minfillia and Louisoix would emerge from the Solar. "Friends, you needn't fight, she's one of us, though I can't quite explain how." Minfillia called to the group.

As they all calmed, Lynn would relax, letting go of her aether, and sheathing her blade, returning it and the sheath back to her hip. "I am here to speak to the old man." She says, a tone of seriousness managing to show through the mirth of being surrounded by people she cared for.

"You can't just come in here, pick a fight, and then demand an audience with Archon Loisoix like that!" Papalymo said incredulously.

The Elder Leveilleur just chuckles. "She just did, obviously she has something of import to share."

Urianger would seem taken aback, but soon relax. "I suppose much needs be explained if we are to glean any understanding from the events of this day." As he finished speaking, everyone else seemed to relax. "Though for her to walk in here in broad daylight, she must have known we would be here."

"Indeed, It is as Minfilia said, I am a Scion, and part of the Circle of Knowing, though...not this one." Lynn said patting herself off from the dust of the scuffle. "I'm from the future."

[sweet-kitsune]

Soulmates

KatherineXAlphinaud & AlisaieXLark

Soulmates were such a strange thing- No one was totally sure how the phenomenon worked. At some point in someone’s life, a mark would appear on them, some place of their body It could be a wrist or an ankle, chest or some even so unlucky as their face. Most of the civilised world, glamored over them, leaving blank skin. Elezen, of most kind along With Hyur seemed to be the most likely to cover them- to cover and forget.

And as such, when Alphinaud’s mark appeared on the inside of his wrist in his first year of the Studium he hardly looked at it  and covered it easily enough. It was only months later when he caught a glimpse of Alisaie’s mark- centered just below her collarbones, a lance crossed with an arrow shades darker then her skin- easy enough to hide without a glamor,  that he was surprised.

With that thought, when the night fell and he was left alone he had slipped the glamor off of wrist to see the mark on his skin, Purple and a firm contrast to his pale skin tone. A circle, with three points coming off, a meteor of a kind- the symbol looked vaguely familiar as though he had seen it in a book before.

Alisaie was the only other person to see his mark- only fair that he had seen her’s. And even so that his sister was the one to agree that the mark was familiar and to assist in finding it.

Only for the mark to turn out to be dark magic. The Black Mage’s symbol. Fear had wracked through him with that knowledge. His soulmate- was…

The Glamor slipped back onto his arm, both twins agreeing to not speak of it.

He didn’t think about it again untill after the banquet. And even then- it was only in passing. He really did deserve to have a soulmate who’s power was so evil didn't he?

And even still he couldn’t bring himself to remove the glamor.

-

Arcane symbols circled her wrist with magic sprawling up to her elbow,  was the first thing he noticed as the woman walked out of the room dressed in her new attire. It was clearly a soul mark, a bloomed one in fact. The woman had met her soulmate then.

The mark had made his chest tight and he had to look away. Maybe it was the fact that seeing that Katherine had met her match made his heart burn, that he would never have a chance.

She never said anything about a soul mate however, not when asked or prodded the miqo’te would just shrug.  The night after they freed Estinien from Nidhogg found the two of them in bed, their hearts pounding and tension curling up from his gut.

His fingers tangled against her arm as their lips brushed He’d never seen the mark this close and as he looked.  The sight of those symbols this close up made the hair on his neck stand up, curling upwards was a ruby shape, followed by a black one.  Carbuncles- it was the only thing it could be.

His heart stopped in his chest and he paled. The marks from his book, his carbuncles. The mark was his. That's the only thing it could be.  And that meant… That meant that the mark on his wrist was her’s. The Black Mage’s mark. She was… surely she was only a Thaumaturge right? He backed off looking at her slit eyes, Her hair spilled crimson against the sheets.

“Forgive me...I-I must take my leave” he muttered, backing off the miqo’te and found himself unable to look at her eyes- afraid of the hurt that might have been there.

He left the room too fast, letting the door slam behind him.

It was with trembling hands he removed the glamor when he was alone- locked into his room at the manor.  His hands shook as it faded, the meteor was still there- surrounded by the night sky now, stars blazing upwards into streaks of fire and Ice up his arm, Lines he didn’t recognize worked through.

Fuck. Fuck. he breathed.

---

Alisaie always had a way of knowing that something was bothering him. And while he was so happy that She was alright, that she hadn’t died due to an arrow. He really could do without the curious looks.

“So?” She questioned, as the two of them settled around the fire, Katherine  having gone off to hunt them something. “So what?”

“You know exactly what dear brother, The Mark on Katherine’s arm, Surely you haven’t become blind in the time we’ve spent apart.”  She made a vague gesture. “And you should know exactly what it means” he hissed.

“Oh yes because of all the people that you could be worried about being, that.  She’s the worst on the list”

“I’ve come to terms with Katherine’s status as a Black Mage… mostly. There’s way too many questions still” he murmured.

 It was only partially a lie, He wasn't sure that he had come to terms with it.  Part of him feared even more for her, should his mark be shown to the world people would know. She wouldn’t be able to hide the fact anymore. There was a chance that the two of them would be killed should the wrong people found out. Even if he be the grandson of Louisoix and the Warrior of Light might not save them from that.

--

It was a sudden moment, his heart raced. He wondered if this was a suicide mission even for her. Saving Ala Migo, defeating Zenos… Katherine’s resolve shown clear in her eyes, and in every fiber of her face.

“Katherine” he called, watching the woman turn to him with her ears perked up. Her head cocked to the side in question and she took the few steps to stand in front of him. They weren’t alone by a long shot, but…

His hand brushed against the woman’s arm, along his mark.

“Perhaps this is the wrong time...but. I must do this now…”  He struggled for a second to slip his glove off, along with the glamor after.

Katherine’s chuckle caught him off guard, she he looked at her. Her hand gently took his arm and traced her fingers along the mingled fire and ice. He flustered as her lips pressed against his. The Marked arm came to cradle his face and tilt it for her.

They pulled back from one another and He felt the flush on his cheeks right to the tips of his ears. It deepened as he felt the way that her fingers traced the mage mark on his wrist. “You’ll come back to me no matter what right?” he whispered. The woman nodded. “Of course”  She pressed her lips to his forehead and then raised his arm to brush her lips against her mark.

.

///////

Alisaie had never bothered to glamor her Soul mark, there was really no need after all with its place on her chest. Everything she had ever worn since it came covered it after all. She had admittedly looked at it in the mirror whenever she was able, since coming to Eorzea her chest had burned and one day in Gridania with the soft thrum of a harp it had intensified for a moment before it faded and Alisaie knew exactly what happened.

She had known it could have only been the woman sitting in the middle of a group of children, a harp in her hands as she told some tale to the excited young ones.

When she lay in the bed in Rhalgr’s Reach wounded and bandaged she had thought about it. The faint harp and the soft voice lingered in her memory.  A dull pain shot across her wound as she shifted. She had seen it- the result of the blade she had taken. The slash had cut through one portion of the soul mark- the Crossed Lance and Arrow had become surrounded by music notes - they had sprawled along her collarbone as splashes of blue, a dagger marked in blood red crossed between the lance and the arrow. The slash had cut through one side of the notes, Likely to scar they had said.

Her hand rested across the bandages and she hung her head. What she wouldn’t give to be out there fighting and not left here to her thoughts, not even aloud to get up and move around yet.

The playful tone of a voice was what woke her- she hadn’t even realized she had fallen asleep- “And just what have you done to end up here?” Alisaie looked over- and her eyes widened at the sight of the miqo’te sitting on the bed next to hers. Her white hair was pulled back into a ponytail, a scar cut across her mismatched eye, Pink and Blue- odd, White freckles splashed across her face along with typical miqo’te marks along her cheeks.

The woman shifted slightly, turning more towards her, showing off the fact that the shirt she wore, (was hardly actually a shirt) exposed quite a bit of skin. The young Elezen’s eyes focused onto the soul mark splashed under the woman’s collar bones.

A sword crossed with a rapier, surrounded by splashes of red’s and pinks.

The Elezen’s first thought was that the mark clashed horribly with the blues and grays of her her shirt before she realized exactly what she was looking at.

She sucked in a sharp breath- only to hiss out quickly at the pain- worry flashing across the miqo’te’s face.

She’s on her feet and closing the few steps between the beds in those moments. “I didn’t intend to further your pain!”  She says with an exasperated note. Gathering herself Alisaie turned to look at the woman again. “How did you-?” “Find you?” the woman cuts in, and Alisaie has to suppress a flash of annoyance. “It would seem as though we’ve got at least one mutual friend” She’s confused for a moment before the woman pulls a hand up and taps the Rapier on her chest with a tiny smile. “X'rhun Tia?” the surprise is thick in her voice and the woman chuckles again, nodding. “Yes, ‘rhun and I have know another for a while.” The familiar version of the Sunseekers name sounded strange to hear, even more so that it was coming from this woman. “Finding that He took a student was a bit surprising, you must have impressed him. And of course, when my mark Bloomed I knew it could only be Red Magic” she makes another gesture to the red and pink across her chest.

It takes Alisaie a moment to find her voice, “What’s your name?” “Lark Lihzeh” The miqo’te hummed, a smile on her face. And the Elezen smiles back just slightly. “Alisaie Leveilleur, Though i suppose you know that already”

-

Their lips brushed, Lark perched on the side of her bed, and Alisaie wondered if things were moving too fast. Lark seemed to come and go a little, doing gods knew what before coming back- but she was never gone long. Sometimes she would fall asleep to the soft thrum of a harp, and sometimes wake to soft singing.

It had hardly been any time since the woman had come, had found her. But it felt like they had known each other for eons. The miqo’te understood her irritation with being stuck in bed, and had done her best to relieve her boredom. The kiss currently one of those things she supposed.

Although she was quite enjoying it. The feel of the older woman’s lips against hers, the soft tickle of the woman’s hair on her face. It made her heart race in her chest.

There was a sudden commotion outside that had her jerking away from the woman, out of breath and wide eyed as someone ran into the infirmary

“They've done it! Ala Migo has been liberated! Zenos is dead!” Alisaie was nearly tossing herself from the bed,

“What of the Scions!” The grin that stretched the man's face was large

“We've been told that the scions present are all alive, most seem to have  only suffered minor injuries!” The man was gone then- likely to spread the news.

Tears sprang to her eyes and she had no idea why, Lark was quick to swoop in and wipe away the few that escaped.

“They are all hale and whole, there's no reason for tears” she smiled sweetly and Alisaie tossed her arms around the woman's neck bringing her close.

“Damn them all for making me cry” the Miqo'te laughed and wrapped her arms around her, pulling them close.

-

Alisaie took a bite of the ginger cookie, walking in step with her brother. A brief respite and the twins had decided to spend a day together. The soft breeze that wafted through the trees in Gridania was pleasant. Alphinaud stopped at her side suddenly, going quiet. Confused for a moment before she heard the soft sounds of a harp and she actually looked where her brothers gaze was- her heart skipped a beat and she had to hide her smile.

Since the Scions return from the war, the pair had decided to keep things quiet for now, especially with Alphinaud and Katherine's now out in the open. Granted she didn't want to make a spectacle of it anyways, it’s not like it mattered. The fact that the woman made her heart beat fast in her chest, that she wanted to see her smile every moment of the day, that was a pleasure all on its own.

Her brothers hum cut through her thoughts

“She's quite good, beautiful voice” he commented and Alisaie listened closer to the woman's playing- catching her voice now. Soft words of love and affection leaving her lips and the elezen did her best to keep her composure.

“Indeed” is all she says, doing her best to not just stare at the woman. The Miqo'te eyes slid up and they met hers for a second and the older woman was smiling.

Yes...she was quite content for now.