#the little stone at her waist is an Ifrit stone

[monabee-draws]

Anyways throwaway post but I redesigned my D&D character and I love her actually. On a mission to give all my OCs the jellyfish haircut (it suits her cause she's a sea witch whose life force is indelibly tied to an evil eldritch sea god so-)

Level 11 Aberrant Mind Sorcerer who has waaaay too much firepower in her arsenal and also +15 to persuasion and deception because who wouldn't trust her sweet sweet face?

[starsandauras]

Entry #16: Fuel, Flame, Farewell

FFxiv 30 Day Writing Challenge Prompt 16: Ceruleum

Their relationship was a little like ceruleum

Her breath hadn’t quite caught in her throat when she’d first seen him, a handsome stranger with white hair, soft brown eyes, and a lovely voice. He wasn’t striking, not like some others she’d seen in her life, there wasn’t anything particularly special about him. But he intrigued her, and watching him fight was certainly lovely. Yes, she did like this one.

Volatile

She tore at his clothes, him doing the same to hers as she pinned him against the door, locked in a kiss that was heat and teeth. The scant height difference between them was of little impact if it was at all. He soon growled into her mouth, making her laugh as he simply pulled up the hem of her robe, giving himself enough leeway to grab her thigh and pull her closer against him, practically wrapping her leg around his waist.

Their joinings were always fast and nearly violent: teeth and nails, growls and whimpers, shouts and screams. They were little more than friends with benefits, both of them fully aware of that fact, and both fully content with it. Exclusivity didn’t fit either of them, and Brigid especially had no real interest in attempting it.

And quick to catch

Her breath did catch when he slew an Amalj'aa single handedly with three knives thrown at once. She had never seen something so… enthralling and her cheeks even went a little pink, but even as Connor and Arthur noticed, Connor in disgust and Arthur mildly amused, she was able to play it off as from the heat of the fire they’d just fought through and still found themselves moderately surrounded by.

Thancred quickly moved from ‘intriguing’ to ‘oh sweet Twelve above he’s amazing’ in her estimation that day.

It was explosive

The rage in her heart at discovering first his apparent betrayal then his actual possession would cast a shadow the heat on Ifrit’s flames, she was certain of it. Ascian. She would remember that title. Lahabrea. She would burn that name into her memory. And soon she would find a way to burn him. Burn him to the ground and grind him under her heel until even ashes did not remain. Brigid considered Thancred to be one of her precious persons and she would not stand for this.

She called on the Light, she rescued him, but failed to make her kill. That would have to wait for another day, before what was left of the ceruleum exploded and took the base down along with themselves.

It was also like a candle flame, soft and gentle

There were soft smiles, gentle touches, light kisses. Pleasant hours whiled away together in friendly silences. They were easy with each other in a way that few expected to see out of either of them but never really pointed out. Shy and fond expressions during linkpearl calls when they thought no one was watching. Girlish giggles from Brigid, pleased chuckles from Thancred. They were happy with each other, though Brigid was much more obvious about it. Thancred spent more time in the field and in libraries, but the others assumed it was doing him just as much good as it was her.

Steady and bright

When he was in the Waking Sands and later the Rising Stones he was rarely found in his own bed. They had silently and without discussion taken up equal residence in Brigid’s room. It soothed the nightmares of each of them, letting them both sleep better. Not that they were exclusive to each other even with that development, of course. It was simply easier to fall asleep in the bed they were both already in, and the majority of the time that bed was Brigid’s. It was also the more comfortable of the two.

It was around this time that Brigid would look back on the day she and the others fought Ifrit, the day that Thancred felled the Amalj'aa, and realize one thing: She had well and truly fallen in love with him.

It was around this time that Thancred would look back on a field of battle, long after Ifrit, just before Leviathan, where Brigid walked, dressed in red and daggers held in her hands. Her face was spattered with beastkin blood, a drop running down her nose and others trailing down her cheek. Her face held an expression that was one of unfettered joy, one of utter freedom that shone undimmed by the uncommon surroundings, and realize one thing: …Oh no. Oh no that was a new feeling, he didn’t know what to do with it.

After Leviathan, relieved to see her safe (and thankful she didn’t join in on Minfilia’s teasing), he realized what that feeling was: He had fallen in love with her. And he had no idea what to do with it.

But ceruleum and candle flame shared one thing in common

Things seemed to take on a new shade for them both, gentler affection, soft and sweet kisses, lingering handclasps and eye contact. Gifts between them both, things often unusual for love tokens but ones that made each other happy. And still they refused to even consider being exclusive. It wasn’t something either of them wanted, and Brigid was often happy to hear about Thancred’s adventures in being a lady’s man. Especially if he brought a girl around for her as well every now and again.

Even Connor was starting to come around on him, to Brigid’s surprise. Not that he overmuch liked the man even now, but he could appreciate that Thancred made his sister happy. And with Connor being anything other than utterly against one of Brigid’s lovers, that was nearly a sign of approval. It wasn’t, but it was close. Close enough for Brigid to be happy.

Through it all, they never said “I love you.”

Both eventually go out

It had gone wrong how had everything gone so wrong.

They ran through the waterway under the Sultana’s Palace, and given the sound of their splashing Brigid was unsure why everyone was concerned with staying quiet. They had left Yda and Papalymo behind, the two of them buying the others time to escape.

She didn’t think any of them would ever forgive themselves for doing so.

As the group ran they soon heard their pursuers, and they realized that they would have to leave someone behind again. It was the only way to keep the Warriors of Light and Minfilia safe.

Brigid paused and squeezed Thancred’s hand. “Please, nay…” she whispered, and he handed the lantern he was carrying to Arthur.

“Brigid,” he said softly, as he took her hand in both of his, squeezing back. She frowned, shaking her head.

“We can keep runnin’, or I can be stayin’ here with you.” She forced back the tears that wanted to spring to her eyes, swallowed back the lump that still managed to make her voice break.

He shook his head in return and pulled her in for a tight hug. “We’ll catch up,” he promised. “Stay safe for me until then.”

A single sob forced its way out of her throat, but she nodded. “Aye, alright.” She dug her fingers into his hair and dragged him into a desperate kiss, full of teeth and need like the kisses of their early relationship. When they finally pulled apart Thancred brushed his hand through her fringe and pressed their foreheads together. “Dinnae ye dare to die on me, ye understandin’ me?” she ordered, ignoring the tears that finally escaped and were running down her face.

“You’d find a way to kill me if I did,” he replied with a tremor in his voice, and she couldn’t tell if it was concern or humor. A kiss to her forehead and he looked to William, who quickly stepped forward. “Keep her safe,” he said, passing her over to him.

“Always dae,” he replied, pulling her tight. He looked over to the others. “Alreet ye gits, cannae be stayin’ here!”

Brigid kept her eyes on Thancred until they turned a corner. Her last sight of him was with his blades in hand, ready to defend them — defend her — from what was to come.

Through it all, they never said “I love you.” It was too much like “Good bye.”

[avocado-bruhvado]

A Fist Full of Gil.

Daaaaaaaamn, it’s been a while. Here is some shoddy FF14 writing.

-Story contains foul language, drug use, and violence. -1467 words long.

The floor mat tasted like broken dreams and wasted potential. The putrid smell of failure permeated the air as he laid flat on his face against the ground. The stains of past brawls littered the floor around him like clusters of faded memories. Splotches of blood, sweat, and vomit had turned the once pristine mat into a dingy shadow of it's former self. The crowd roared as the Roegadyn climb on top of the Highlander with a raised fist, ready to finish him off. The head referee bolted over and corralled him away back into the corner. From the side of the ring, an assistant referee rushed over to the downed fighter with his hand held high. "One!" In an exhilarating and brilliant moment, all his senses that laid scattered on the mat came back to him. He took a swift and sharp breath. The humid air filled his lungs with much needed oxygen. With his second wind, he managed to pull himself together enough to roll over on his side. "Two!" Pain churned throughout his body. His limbs burned like he had immersed them in Ifrit's asshole for days. In front of him, the referee slammed his hand into the mat again. "Three!" He had to get back into the fight. He had to try. His arms and legs shook as he summoned all his strength to push himself up and back on to his feet. The world was a mix of blurred shapes and muffled noises. He saw the crowd but couldn't make out their faces or any details. "You ok?" The referee said "Can you tell me your name and what round you're in?" "K-Kazex Voss...round twelve?" "More like round three but good enough." Once on his feet, Kazex raised his fists. The Roegadyn stood up and grunted. He looked bigger than before. What was his name again? Mash Potatoes? Marsha? Masher? Kazex shook his head but it didn't help. The referee patted him on the shoulder and nodded toward the other side of the ring. Kazex stared at him but didn't pick up what he was hinting at. The referee eyes went wide for a second before he darted for the side of the ring. Kazex turned his attention to the other side of the ring. A mass of fury and rage barrelled straight for him. His body tensed up as he braced for the pain that was soon to follow. Each blow that landed caused Kazex to die a little inside. His body shuddered under the force of each fist that smashed into his tender flesh. It felt like a meteor plummeting into the ground over and over. Kazex did his best to deflect what hits he could but his body could not take the strain any longer. He ducked a jab but failed to block against the follow up. The impact crushed his shoulder and sent him into a spin. In his daze, he managed to stumble toward the edge of the ring to prop himself up against the post. The Roegadyn came in fast with his right fist up to finish Kazex off a second time. The world spun. All he could see was three ugly and massive shapes barrelling toward him a second time. Kazex raised his hands to braced for the worse. The crowd's thunderous roar of approval turned into long winded disappointment. Kazex peeked out from behind his guard and tilted his head. His opponent laid face down on the mat. The referee rushed over and began to count. Exhausted, Kazex stumbled over and fell to his knees. Was he dead? The pale faced referee turned to the panel of judges and shook his head. A hand grabbed his and raised it to air. "Congratulations..." The assistant referee said "Champ!" The crowd resumed it's furious roar for blood and cheered for Kazex. He didn't feel like the champ though or much of anything. He stared at the Roegadyn's lifeless body and shook his head. This wasn't right. The walk from the ring to the locker room was unsatisfying. It was hollow. His new fans reached out to their champion only to receive a half hearted shrug. They called his name, sang his praise, and placed him on a pedestal meant for gods. Kazex kept his eyes forward and his feet moving as fast as he could. Escape could not come fast enough. He spent hours sitting in the empty locker room, thinking to himself. What happened? He shouldn't have won that fight. The Roegadyn shouldn't have died like that. The door to the locker room opened up. A Lalafell in a nice suit walked in with a grin spanning Ul'dah to Ishgard. He sauntered over to the nearest chair and sat down. "Kazex 'The Boss' Voss," He said "When they told me you wanted to fight The Mad-Eye Masher, I thought you wanted a death wish. Six months ago, my colleagues thought you were crazy but lo and behold, we were wrong." Kazex stared at the Lalafell from behind his long black hair. Dealing with him was the last thing he wanted to do. His voice reminded him of a chocobo dragging it's claws along stone. "What do you want, Halo?" "You best remember whom you're talking to, boy. You also best remember who got you that title shot. I invested a lot into this and now, I'm here to congratulate you on your victory. You made a lot of us a hefty profit." "It was a one sided fight. I didn't deserve it." "Lalafell's ass. Look here, boy. I came here with a bag of gil with your name on it. Now you have two choices: take the money and live it up for a while or sulk like a chump. I don't care." The Lalafell stuck out his right hand. A large gem sitting pretty on a ring caught Kaxez's attention. Halo wiggled the massive rock several times and smiled. "Go on. You offended me." Halo said "Kiss it, be forgiving, and never forget what you are." Kazex tightened his fists. His body began to burn. How easy would it be to snap the little rat's neck? And all the necks of his associates that would come for blood? The thought tired him out. It was the last thing he wanted to deal with, especially after today. Kazex narrowed his eyes, got on one knee and pressed his lips on the gem for several gruelling seconds. "There's a good boy." Halo said "See, that wasn't so hard was it?" The Lalafell laughed and snapped back his hand. He slapped Kazex with the force of a weak child before hopping off the chair. The hotness returned. Kazex watched with all the restraints he had left as Halo walk to the door. Before he left, he turned to laugh one last time. "A worthless bag of meat." He said "You'll never be nothing more than that. Enjoy your merger life while you can." Kazex sat in silence. Outside, the sounds of a bustling Ul'Dah nightlife called out to him. He looked over to the bag of gil and stared at it. "Fuck it." The Quicksand was alive and kicking that night. Kazex made his way to the bar and sat down in the nearest seat. The music and crowd were what he was looking for. He signaled to the bartender and plopped his bag of gil onto the hardwood. "I'll have the finest drink in the house." He said "Make it a double." A short and gorgeous Miqo'te with blonde hair and silky tail leaned in next to him. She purred as she smiled. He delicate finger ran up and down his arm as she spoke. "You can't afford me twice, sweetness..." She said "But for you, champ, I'll make an exception." That voice. That purr. It was unmistakable. He turned his head and smiled back at Rose. "Did you watch my fight?" "If I wanted to watch a slab of meat get tenderized for 45 minutes, I'd wear my red shoes and nylons. You look like Titan rubbed your face up and down his ass crack a few times too many. You better make it a triple." "Whoa whoa. I got local Bush League champ money, not Worlds! But I'll buy you a drink?" "Save it, Champ. A girl's gotta pace herself. I'm three deep with no fuel in the tank. Speaking of which, duty calls..." Kazex watched as Rose saunter over to her next victim and slid her arm around his waist. Her slender fingers worked stole his attention as well as his money purse. When Kazex turned his head, his drinks where pinning down a small note. He looked around several times. The crowd seemed distant to him, like he was the only one there at that moment. Curious, he unfolded the paper. "Stardust Pluto OD."

[ladyscientia]

Tempus Vernum

EPISODE ONE: That one time you started work as the Royal Secretary Ignis x Reader Spoilers below the cut.

Blind!Ignis x Reader INTRODUCTION: Noctis’ spiritual ashes blow into the astral winds, up and away into mortal nothingness. On some heavenly plain, The Six stand at the Round Table together, contemplating the fate of his soul. Should his soul be recycled into the infinite beyond? To join his father in the afterlife? An ethereal image of the Oracle appears on the center on the table. She bows. Her silvery, blonde hair sweeps the surface.

“Blessed are the 6,” she says in greeting.

“Oracle,” comes the commanding tones of Bahamut. His eyes are cold and collected. “We’ve summoned you concerning the fate of the Sacrificed King.”

“I am honored that you would include me in such an important decision.”

“What say you, Oracle?” Straight to the point.

The Oracle nods. She holds her hands calmly at her waist. “There is no longer an heir to the Throne of Lucis. Being as such, there is no ambassador to hone the powers of the Lucii. Eos has no protector.”

Shiva stands singularly beside Bahamut and interrupts. “The Brotherhood remains. We temporarily transferred our favor over them until a new King rises to take the throne.”

The Oracle closes her eyes. “There is no one left alive suitable for the task.”

The 6 exchange indiscernible glances. Beneath the Round Table, the sun is rising in Eos for the first time in 10 years.

Bahamut continues, “we are considering the mortal, Talcott, to bestow the responsibility upon.”

“With all due respect; why have you summoned me here then?” the Oracle is uncommonly flustered.

Ramuh speaks from the other side of the table, “When we banished the tarnished soul of Ifrit to damnation, you came forth with the afterlife spirit of one we would never have considered to take the role.” Ifrit stands at the side of Ramuh. The flames surrounding him make his face hard to see. But he smiles in recognition of the Oracle.

Ramuh goes on, “you are most tentative to all plains and considerate of all souls. ... Who should take the throne?”

Without missing a beat, the Oracle says, “Noctis. Resurrect him and give him the chance he never had to rule. He can produce an heir and the natural line continues. The people of EOS will rejoice and respect him.”

“Then you should go with him,” says Shiva. Bahamut shoots her an intense glare. Shiva continues anyways, “Produce an heir with Noctis Lucis Caelum who will be our Ambassador as both Protector AND Oracle.”

Lunafreya Nox Flueret emits a grin. She looks to Ifrit for approval. His horns dip up and down through the flames in an assured nod.

“I would be HONORED.” Lunafreya bows again.

“It shall be, then.” Bahamut climbs atop the round table. The others join him. The table tilts as Titan clambers aboard.They create a circle around Lunafreya and chant in voices so deep that they are nearly inaudible. The astral winds blow again and just as the sun pours light like paint onto EOS, King Noctis Lucis Caelum and his bride-to-be are resurrected.

One year and one month have passed since the light returned. You worked diligently in that time in Lestallum, providing administration to the recovery and rebuilding efforts. The King and Queen visited from Insomnia on the anniversary and offered you the position to serve the Crown as Royal Secretary. You accepted and took a month to prepare. Now you’re standing before the great silvery edifice that is the castle, shivering from the wintry cold and from sheer nervousness.

You take a breath for courage and ascend the stone stairway which is still slightly damaged from the fall. A member of the Crownguard greets you at the doors. It’s a woman with sinewy brunette hair and freckles. Her expression is ALL business.

“How can I help you, miss?”

You speak through pounding heartbeats, “I’m (y/ first name) Vernum. I’ve come to take the role as Royal Secretary.” Gods, it sounds unreal coming from your mouth.

“Miss Vernum!” her lips soften in a smile. “I was told to expect you. Welcome to Insomnia.”

She brings her index finger to her left ear and speaks into an unseen communication device. “The Royal Secretary has arrived.”

Right away the two stories tall doors fold open and the warmth from the inside hits you like a fiery wind. The lobby is huge and glossy. The floors are made of exquisite black tile that have hints of swirling silver. They blind you momentarily, reflecting the light of the sun that is shining bright behind you. The walls are black, maroon and gold and yawn way up, up, up. Sparkling gold chandeliers hang from the ceilings of the second floor. There are black granite counters and dark wood furniture. Although the interior is dark, everything it’s glowing from low set, under lying lights and little brass lamps. At the end of the 100 yard lobby is another staircase, enclosed by intricately carved, dark wood banisters that curve up to the second floor and a balcony. The doors close behind you with a THUD.

Offset from the center of the lobby is a huge and tall half-circle reception desk. A head pops up from the other side.  “Thank.The.Six.” says the person behind the desk. It’s a young dark-skinned man that looks about your age; somewhere in his early thirties or late twenties. He stands up and towers over the desk. Damn. He’s TALL. He puts a hand of relief on his chest and shouts across the lobby, “Are you (y/n) Vernum?”

You start his way, past a row of five or six small high-top desks. “Yes. That’s me.”

You extend your hand in greeting and he takes it with soft flamboyancy. He appraises you at arm’s length, putting his hand on his hip. So you do the same. He’s got perfectly tidy, almost shaved black hair. His eyes are massive, round and deep brown and they are examining you, girlfriend. He’s got a well maintained stubble for facial hair and he’s so tall. He has broad shoulders and a girth that is wide only because he’s probably literally big-boned. Everything about him is big.

“I am so relieved that you’re finally here,” he says, throwing his hands up palm-out. “I’m Sampra. But everyone just calls me Sam.I’m the Head Secretary of our little floor here and I keep all the chick-a-dees in line.”

You glance over your shoulder and realize that there are heads inquisitively poking out from all the desks you’ve passed. 

“Back to work, chick-a-dees!” He shouts playfully with a flick of his fingers. The heads disappear. “I’ll show you to your office, Royal Secretary Girl.” He starts something similar to a slow trot back towards the front of the lobby. You follow him, looking left, right and up, getting a better surveillance of the castle.

“If you’re in charge, why didn’t you take the Royal Secretary position?” you ask fairly with legitimate curiosity.

“O-ooh no,” he says, leading you to a tall door with a stained glass window that reaches from bottom to top. “I don’t want that job, honey-pie.” What? Why? He opens the door and leads you inside. 

Your office is an opulently decorated room split in the middle by a floor to ceiling bookshelf. On the side to the right is your office. There’s a really nice, L-shaped, cherry wood desk that faces the book shelf and behind it is the outer wall of the castle with windows looking out to the city. It’s a nice contrast compared to the lobby. On the other side of the bookshelf is a lounge. A plushy looking couch is centered before a coffee table and fireplace. There’s a tv the width of your desk hanging above the mantel. Behind the couch and against the wall is curio cabinet for serving with bottles of wine and swanky, crystal glasses. The room smells like the fresh binding of newly opened books and coffee. Your eyes dart to the L-shape desk. There’s a Keurig on the length of the desk against the wall. YES.

“It’s a nice office, isn’t it?” Says Sam in awe, leaning in the doorway. It’s so nice. “Well, go ahead and get settled in. I think Ignis is on his way down. Don’t be intimidated by him. He’s the King’s Royal Adviser who WAS doing your job until you arrived. I don’t think he’ll let the responsibilities go so easily. Poor baby. He probably just needs to get laid.”

You’re running your fingers along the rich wood of the desk as Sam says the last statement. He sure is outspoken. 

“Sampra,” there’s an equally tall figure in the doorway behind Sam. He’s got silver glasses on that look more like work goggles. His lips form a hard line. “I can assure you. I do not need to get laid.” You can assume right away that this is the Royal Adviser, Ignis.

Sam isn’t embarrassed at all by getting caught. He rolls his round, brown eyes and takes a step back. “Honey, you need to get laid ten years ago.” He recedes back to the lobby.

You circle around the desk and try out your new chair. It’s leather, rocks slightly and can spin. Awesome. 

“Welcome to the castle, Miss Vernum,” Ignis begins, remaining near the doorway. “I hope you’ve found your new living situation favorable. It’s rather unfortunate the length you have to take to commute. But I can assure you that it’s in one of the safest neighborhoods where newer building developments are being made.”

“Yeah,” you say somewhat mindlessly. You move on to inspect the Kuerig. “I’m very grateful to the King for finding a place for me to live. And this office is incredible. I can’t wait to get started.”

“Yes. Well ... I’m glad to hear it.”

As you turn back to face him, you realize that he’s not making eye contact with you. He talks out toward no specific direction. One of his eyes is slightly closed and wow. Look at those scars. They make him kind of roguishly handsome and he has a nicely sculpted jaw line. ... You’re staring.  - Wait. He’s BLIND. 

“Are you a part of the Brotherhood?” You blurt out, recalling the story of the group of hunters who helped King Noctis banish the usurper. 

Ignis’ brows raise. There’s something like an amused smile. He’s got great teeth too. His two front teeth are a little bit big, but in a cute baby bunny kind of way. How has he NOT been laid lately?

“Yes. I was a part of the Brotherhood. Or so it’s been called. We all take part in different important tasks to serve the crown now. But that’s all irrelevant, Miss Vernum.” The clouds cover the sun outside and lower the sheen of Ignis’ glasses. You can better see his eyes; behind a foggy layer, they’re emerald green. 

He goes on; “You’re job is one of the most important ones here. You will keep the King and Queen on a neat schedule, answer the most important calls, take notes at all of their meetings, and see over Sampra and his ‘chick-a-dees,’ to name a few. Noctis has informed me of your former administration background; most recently at Lestallum. But I wonder where your experience lies before then.”

“Oh!” You circle around to the front of the desk and lean back against it. “During the Starscrourge? I was still in Lestallum. Running efforts to keep the refugees fed and housed. ...ALL ten years.”

“I’m surprised we’ve never previously been introduced in that case ...” he muses on a lighter note and take a couple of steps into the office. 

“Likewise,” you respond. Is he interviewing you or is he just making small talk? He’s hard to gauge.

“What was your occupation BEFORE the Starscourge?” he prompts.

You let out a puff of breath.

Ignis stops you before you can say a word. “I understand. It’s a sensitive subject for many of us. I only wish to know what you’re capable of and what areas you might need instruction on.”

Was it that obvious that you weren’t ready to open up on some of the details? You tell him; “I ... lived here in Insomnia. Unemployed for a little while. Before that ... I was a school teacher in Galahd. I graduated from Niflheim University with honors. Emperor Aldercapt sent me to Galahd to educate young inquiring minds. Really, I was ordered to restructure their education; tailoring it to fit a more favorable Imperial history.”

Ignis is staring in your general direction, arms crossed. He’s speechless. You turn back to the desk, trying to casually examine the pile of folders that have been left there no doubt for you to look through. You’re used to this sort of reaction. You finger through the papers, giving him time to process.

He’s quicker than most people. “That’s ... impressive. Are you from Niflheim?”

“No,” you say wryly with your back to him. “I’m from Accordo.”

You hear movement as he makes a swift transfer from the bookshelf to your desk. He stands opposite of you, taking up the files. 

“I’ve had Sampra put these in order of priority for you. Do try to keep them that way, or you might become overwhelmed.” He says eloquently, a poor attempt to expunge the stale atmosphere created by the conversation. “In any case. As far as your duties are concerned, any appointments made go into the main calendar and need to be approved by myself until you get into the swing of things.” He goes on about different chores and rules. It’s all somewhat mundane, but you’re intrigued by his talent of moving around and senses things without his sight. It distracts you somewhat. Halfway through the conversation you’re only halfway listening. 

“I suggest you shadow Sampra for the day,” you hear him say as you pull through an empty daze at the bookshelf. So many books. After ten years of doing the same thing, you ARE starting to feel overwhelmed. “Sampra can give you a rundown of how things operate in layman’s terms for the next few days until I empty my list of priorities. Then you’ll shadow me....Have patience with Sampra. He does have a certain candor about him. But he does efficient, quality work.” You laugh quietly out loud. They must butt heads for them to both warn you of the other. 

“I like that about him,” you extol, following Ignis as he heads out to the lobby. “I’ve learned in my ten years in Lestallum that having a sense of impartiality will earn you the respect of your colleagues.”

Ignis pauses. He becomes taciturn, leading you past the desks. “Precisely.”

You stop at the main reception desk where Sampra’s sitting. He’s so tall that he’s arched over his work. He’s got a pair or little black-framed reading glasses with rhinestones on the temples sitting at the tip of his long nose. 

“Sampra,” Ignis addresses him. “Miss Vernum will be shadowing you over the next few days as I’ve got a full schedule with his majesty. Please see that she becomes accustomed to how things run and where the necessities are located.” Ignis is gone before you can thank him.

Sam removes his readers and stores them into a little velvet pouch. He crosses his massive arms atop the desk. “Okay Royal Secretary Girl. There are five rules when you’re working at the main desk. Number one: Put it back where you found it. Number two: When Prompto Argentum comes in to drop off the Hunter’s Report, make sure he gets his little snack pack. Number three: Answer the phone before me. Number four: We all stand for King Noctis when he passes through the lobby REGARDLESS of what we’re doing. The same goes for her highness the Queen. And last but not least, number five: don’t you come into this lobby with a shitty attitude. We all take care of each other down here. So if there’s something on your mind, we love a little gossip.”

So that’s all, huh? You smile and nod, taking it all in; the strange and sincere requests. Sam pulls out a chair next to him. 

You say, entering into the half-circle, “Five rules shouldn’t be too hard to keep.”

-End

EPISODE TWO: That one time you learned what Ebony was

@chocobrowritings @thatonedaydream