#so writing this was just AUGHfsdhfdsjgf

[bakuzen-xiv]

FFXIVWrite2024 (Day 5): Stamp

“A letter for you, Z'len.”

The miqo'te turned around at the sound of his name. In front of him was the hyur who did administration at the Arcanist’s Guild. Theo, he finally recalled, with a pang of guilt for forgetting his name—especially after assigning the unfortunate man babysitter duties.

The guy, a few years younger than Z'len, never seemed too happy about their surprise visits. Yet he still made the effort to entertain Orion while Z’len handled a job. He couldn’t pawn Orion off on Yellow Bream all the time, after all. She had a tavern to run, and its patrons weren't exactly decent folk.

The pang of guilt inside his heart grew bigger.

Theo was holding something towards him. Looking down, it appeared to be an envelope, pristine paper with an elegant wax seal hiding its contents. He hardly ever received letters. Even if he did, he wouldn’t be able to read a word.

His past tribe expected him to hone more practical skills, such as hunting or scouting. Those were the skills that served the tribe and their Nuhn’s whims. Frivolous matters like education would only distract him, they explained. Z’len didn’t get the chance to argue otherwise before he was ousted.

He’d taught himself some after he left, of course. It was easy enough to write his name or read the street signs scattered around Limsa, though he could recall those from memory by now. To keep himself sharp, he sometimes sat down with the newspaper to test himself. See how many words he recognized, counting them up to see if he had gotten any worse.

Handwriting was a pain in the ass. If people wanted to say something to him, they could say it to his face, he argued. Fuckin' cursive. His tail brisked at the thought of it, whipping side-to-side before he could restrain himself.

He coughed in an attempt to cover up his irritation, looking up at the Hyur who was still holding the letter out to him. Wide eyes looked back at him, a wide, toothy smile, rosy cheeks matching rosy hair. Z’len swore the guy belonged in a spring meadow—surely he’d be a better fit there than he was here in Limsa. No wonder he always hid among the books, he thought to himself.

Z’len reached out, taking the letter out of his hand with a casual “What’s this, then?” He tried to keep his voice neutral, like people would when they got letters and because they were not filled with dread at the expectation of reacting to it.

Theo made no effort to explain himself, so Z'len turned his attention back to the letter. He turned it around in his calloused hands, unable to recognize the seal it carried.

As he looked closer at the symbol stamped into the wax, he realized it looked nothing like those he’d seen before. An amateur-carved seal, he thought to himself, the uneven lines barely forming an “O” within the hardened wax. He frowned and looked back up at Theo, who only gestured with excitement for him to go on.

“Alright,” Z’len shrugged, unsure how long he felt like humoring this guy. It was the least he could do, after making Theo look after his son as often as he had. The guy would be in for a surprise, though, if he expected Z’len to make any sense of his letter.

Opening the letter up, his breath hitched.

“Oh.”

Many possibilities had crossed his mind—perhaps it was a heartfelt letter from Theo pining for Z'len's love, or a commendation from the authorities for his excellent contributions to society. Far more likely would be a warrant for his arrest, considering his day-to-day activities, but he’d crossed that one off the list when he saw Theo’s beaming face.

“To be honest, Zlen... He was supposed to give it to you himself. But his nerves got to him, I suppose. I pray you won’t fault him for him.”

The words were like dull background noise as Z'len adjusted the way his hands held the paper, moving to cradle it like it was worth a million gil. His eyes glanced over the tell-tale sign of a child’s clumsy writing, awkward squiggles floating across the page with great intention and terrible execution. Worse than his own, he thought with fond appreciation for the symbols he could not make any sense of.

Slowly, he held his thumb at the opening line. Different misspellings of his name were crossed out several times, followed up by that combination of letters he’d first taught himself a decade ago: Z’len.

And at the bottom, a combination he'd only taught him a few years ago: Orion.

He stared at it, quietly.

“Orion wrote this?” he asked, wanting to hear confirmation of that which he already knew.

Theo hummed in confirmation.

Z’len quickly rubbed a sleeve across his face to fix his blurring vision, unexpected tears wetting the fabric. “Orion can write,” he repeated, incredulous and proud and joyful.

“Yeah,” Theo grinned, sharing the father’s excitement.

“I don’t know how to fucking read this!” he shouted, a smile still plastered on his teary face.

Theo laughed. “We can work on that!”

Z’len squeezed the young guy’s shoulder, careful not to hurt the frail hyur. It seemed it was time for him to learn his letters after all.