#smorels

[starlit-seadragon]

Day 25 - Perpetuity

In which the young Estelle de Borel, daughter of the Lord Speaker of the House of Lords and Lord Commander of Ishgard, and the esteemed Warrior of Light and Lady de Borel, jumps off a roof.

CW: panic attack, abandonment trauma, uhhhh adoption? Ishgard sure is A Place.

Submitting unfinished for the deadline but I would like to finish it sjdjffnfjfhf

My FFXIV Write Masterpost here.

When she was first born, Elouan had thought his baby sister perfect.

Round button nose with a single scale on the bridge, dark and wispy curls, hands so small that even his thumb was larger than her fist.

Four years later, the only thing he thought perfect about her was how perfect a brat she was.

"Estelle," he hissed in the loudest whisper he could manage, "get off the damned roof!"

Far above, his baby sister gasped. “El said a bad word! Bad El! Stel will tell Mama and Papa!”

"You're one to talk," he grumbled under his breath. He was a son of House Borel; he was not going to argue with a toddler.

"Estelle," Elouan tried again. "Please. Before you get hurt. I will come up there if I must."

He was not quite sure how he would accomplish this—he was not even sure how Estelle had managed it—but he knew that keeping his word was important, and regardless, he intended to try.

He just wished that it had not been the top of the manor that she had chosen to perch and that he were not out in the middle of the godsforsaken street, where anyone passing by could witness them.

Ere she had left, his aunt had promised to return shortly. “Not even a full bell,” she had said. She had forgotten something essential to dinner, and the trip to the Jeweled Crozier was a quick one. Elouan had acquiesced, saying he would keep an eye on Estelle, thinking it could not be very difficult. She was, after all, still so small. What mischief could a child of four get up to that a boy of twelve could not handle?

Evidently, a great deal.

She was gone in the blink of an eye. Elouan had been studying, looking into his book for but a moment. And then it was suddenly too quiet, and Estelle was gone. If not for her coat, hastily abandoned outside the manor walls, Elouan might never have known where to find her.

His sister gave no response. Was she hurt, or just ignoring him? Gritting his teeth, Elouan looked around. He had to get onto that roof.

From the corner of his eye, he saw a figure approaching, and his shoulders sagged with relief. Aunt Homura was back, and she could help him. Everything would be okay.

He did a double-take, and his blood turned to ice.

“M-mother!”

Lady de Borel stopped beside him. A leather sack hung off her shoulder.

“Elouan?” she asked, brow knit. “What are you doing outside?”

He scrambled for an answer but could find none, mouth flapping like that of a fish. He couldn’t lie to her. He wouldn’t. No matter what it cost him.

His mother looked down at the ground, gaze falling on Estelle's shed coat. Elouan froze. His mother looked upwards, towards the roof of the manor. Her mouth set into a firm line, eyes hardening. Elouan swallowed.”

This was it. This was the end. He was dead. She knew now that he could not be trusted, that he had let little Estelle run wild and put herself in danger.

“Elouan,” she began, voice flinty. “Where is your Aunt Homura?”

“Th-the Jeweled Crozier. She said... she said she'd be right back.”

“I see.”

Elouan tried to memorize the outside of the manor. He would carry the image of it with him to the Fury’s hallowed halls.

“Play along,” his mother whispered before pitching her voice loudly towards the roof. “Elouan, my light! I am so happy to see you!”

He stared at her. She nodded her head towards the roof. Confused, he replied in the same volume, “As I am you, Mother.”

A startled gasp of “Mama!” came from above.

“Have you seen your sister?” his mother asked. “I have gifts for you both, and I should so like to present them together.”

Heart sinking, Elouan looked to the ground. Was she truly going to make him admit his failure like a mummer in a play? The cruelty seemed unlike her.

Before he could answer, however, a voice rang out from the roof.

“Dum da dummm! Behol! Stel, the Azoor Dragon!” shouted Estelle. With a branch in hand, she struck a pose.

“Estelle, my star, what are you doing up there? And without your coat?”

Estelle slumped.

“Mama,” she whined, “Dragons need no coats!”

“Estelle.” Their mother’s voice was firmer now. “You know you cannot go out without a coat.”

“Stel did go with coat! Then took it off.”

Their mother paused. Irritation creased her features for but a moment, and then called, “Estelle? Pray wait there. I’ll be right up to get you.”

“Dragons need no coats!” Estelle repeated. “And dragons need no help to fly!”

She backed away from the edge.

Elouan felt his pulse gallop.

She wouldn’t.

“Estelle?” their mother called hoarsely. Frantic, she looked around for a way up.

Estelle leapt from the rooftop.

Heart in his throat, Elouan brought his hands to his mouth. He was worse than dead, he would be disowned. Everything, gone in an instant, and he would be sent back—

Miraculously, a pair of leathery blue wings sprouted from his baby sister’s back. Instead of falling, she glided gently downwards, landing in their mother’s outstretched arms. The wings detached, revealing themselves to be those of a cobalt dragonet’s.

The creature chortled. “We'll make a dragon of you yet, little one!”

Estelle squealed in delight.

“Kal Myhk,” greeted their mother with a tight smile. “Pray remember that man ages by year and not by experience. I would ask to to refrain from aiding my daughter in flight until she is much older.”

The little dragonet seemed to consider this, then looped backwards through the air.

“Far be it from me to disrespect a mother’s wishes. My apologies, Shirayume. Know that I would have let no ill befall her.”

“I know, Kal Myhk. Thank you.”

Just then, another figure approached them, bag in hand and waving brightly.

“Oh, Nami, you’re home early! Hi!”

Elouan’s aunt Homura took in the scene before her: the three Borels standing outside, the dragonet hovering nearby, Estelle’s shed coat, and the tight grip their mother held onto Estelle’s waist. The smile fell from Aunt Homura’s lips.

Flatly, and with a light blush, she said, “Oh... Estelle got onto the roof again, didn’t she.”

Their mother went so still that Elouan flinched.

“Again?” Her tone was frost incarnate. Aunt Homura withered under his mother’s countenance. Elouan couldn’t blame her.

An argument followed in quick, quiet Doman. While Elouan had been learning his mother’s native tongue, they spoke too quickly for him to follow. He caught only snippets, words that sounded like “irresponsible” and “send home.”

Dread crept over him. They really were going to send him back.

Elouan could not help himself; he ran. He ran past the front door, up the stairs, and into his room, tears falling in his wake. Upon the soft down of his bed, he wept, grieving all he was to lose. A roof over his head. A warm, dry place to sleep. Hot, regular meals. A loving mother and father. Estelle.

“Elouan?” a voice called into his—well, what would no longer be his—room. He looked up through bleary eyes.

“Lady de Borel,” he croaked. He rubbed his eyes. The tears could not be hidden, but he could at least look a little more presentable. Though it mattered little, he thought glumly. “Is your daughter well?”

His former mother looked at him strangely.

“Estelle is with Aunt Hilda.”

“Aunt Hilda is here?”

Good, he could say goodbye to her, too, then.

“Fortunately,” she answered, syllables clipped. Her features returned to that strange puzzlement. “Elouan, is something the matter?”

He could not meet her gaze. “No, my lady.”

“Then why the formality? You haven't spoken to me so since—” She stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening. Alarmed, she stared at him. “Elouan, you can't possibly think—”

“I'm sorry, my lady, for failing you. This was a happy home for me, while it lasted.” His voice broke on the last few words. He hated that weakness. Tears welled in his eyes, and he blinked them furiously away.

Lady de Borel knelt before him, voice a whisper. “Elouan... failing me in what?”

“I did not protect your trueborn daughter.”

Finally, he looked into her eyes. She met his determined stare with soft, shimmering pain.

“Elouan, my light. You have failed no one, and even had you, you would not be going anywhere. You are not going anywhere. This is your home.”

“B-but I—” He could not stop the tears. “I messed up.”

“You did nothing of the sort,” she told him as she ran a hand through his hair.

“P-papa always says I must watch out for Estelle.”

"Because you are the eldest, sweetling. Not because she has greater import. You are both our children.”

He let himself fall into her arms then and weep. She held him tightly, whispering words of comfort and rubbing small circles against his back. The thought of losing this sent him into wracking sobs all over again.

He had no idea how long they stood like that, but Elouan only knew he was happy to be home.

[bumblebeer07]

Omg what kind of dreams? Are they about Charmie? I’ve dreamed about them too lately. What was yours about?

Dear smorell, they were very Charmie dreams! 😁

Nothing hot and heavy, but more in the lines of funny and heartwarming.

I wrote the whole thing down and it's 2,358 words. I did share it with 2 close mutuals and they said it wasn't half bad. Maybe I'll post it if I get the nerve up?

Hope your dreams were also nice. Do share if you're up to it.

[improbcat]

Smorels.

t-...to-...toasty s'more mushrooms.....