#the whole world's treating them like the adults they are now. That's not fair fr

[jrueships]

if gup gets shopped out im gonna be so pissed yall

[heirsofdiscord]

Cookie Clickers

FFXIVwrite prompt #9: Fair | 3532 words A community gathering to celebrate and exhibit local achievements. It's late but like this was supposed to be written a year ago anyway so it's already late. Feat @windup-dragoon's Kirishimi, @ancientechos' Arianna & Saanvi, @whitherliliesbloom's Illya

All Saints’ Wake was the time when the Twelve invited the saints of old for a feast in their honor leaving Eorzea unprotected from things that crawled in the night. In older ─ and, by Moth’ir’s estimations, perhaps more reasonable ─ times that meant staying inside and locking your door. That’s exactly how Moth’ir would like to spend this time but there had been some nonsense about adventurers staying vigil, emboldening common folk and blah blah blah, a holiday was born. Folks would dress up in their best creature feature and gather to them treats; sweet meats for the kiddies and libation for the adults. The problem was, Moth’ir’s part of Ul’dah wasn’t particularly safe for children to be running around and less so when there were adults going around being just as stupid.

Duty bound to hold some sort of event anyway, Moth’ir had organized a local fair. He encouraged a lot of other local businesses to open or hold stalls where adults could peruse their wares and children hunt for goodies. Then it had simply grown from there. It was a very grand affair that took months in the planning and Moth’ir was quite frankly glad to be rid of the responsibility. Bukidai, Moth’ir’s successor in his business and all things it entailed, lacked the ability to plan one-hundred steps ahead of everyone else like Moth’ir but had a special ability that Moth’ir didn’t: the ability to trust others enough to let them help. It had worked rather well but this particular day had left him short handed as his employees asked for the day off and he didn’t have enough volunteers to cover. He was lamenting about it to Moth’ir when the man offered to give him. Bukidai nearly cried over linkpearl.

It was Thancred that might have let it slip to the Warriors of Light where they were going. That was how the Dapper Than tavern became host to the crew of them early in the morning. The group of star adventurers couldn’t not help, after all. That would go against their very nature.

“Alright ladies and Ascians,” Moth’ir addressed the room after jumping the counter with ease bespeaking the fact he’d worked and lived here for the better part of a decade and then some. “And Alphinaud,” Moth’ir added as the young man was raising his hand to pipe in that he was also there, neither lady nor Ascian. He grinned at him and winked over the rim of his orange shades before continuing on. “We’re on treat duty. We got folks who wanna participate but don’t have the means so it’s our job to make a bunch of fine looking baskets and hand them out. Alisaie and Urianger have volunteered to be our initial runners and are taking numbers now but we’ll probably all need to run out to make sure everyone is supplied.”

“How many baskets do you usually make?” Illya asked, raising her hand like a good student. It was cute.

Moth’ir laughed like she said the funniest thing in the whole world and said “,we bake until we die! I usually have baskets themselves premade but it’s day two of a three day event. Baskets from yesterday get squashed or lost so we’ll need to arrange new ones. Any surplus of treats gets donated so don’t worry about waste either.”

Regarding Illya specifically “,counting on you to tag me out for a bit later because I have a date with a pretty young thing and her old man.”

Back in the old days of Moth’ir’s reign of this establishment and it’s many programs above and below board, lending control over to anyone was unheard of. He was just a wee bit of a control freak and trusted no one. Times had changed though. He pointed to Thancred and the half-miqo’te girl in his arms that was busy taking in the sights of the unfamiliar new place. Moth Karga the II had Thancred’s hair an eye from both her parents; Thancred’s hazel and Moth’ir’s pale yellow. Complete with pupils to match her mixed Hyurian and Keeper of the Moon lineage. Likely due to Moth’ir’s superstition, the girl wasn’t dressed up as some supernal creature but a frilly dress made with simple black and shiny orange. Likely handmade. Moth’ir could keep a step behind the Warriors of Light when it came to combat but when it came to crafting, he made sure to give them a run for their money. None so more than Illya Skawi who took particular pride in her crafts and cooking. Just don’t eat her spicy soup. There was no one Moth’ir could trust more to take over save Bukidai himself. Though, by the near frantic manner he’d greeted them when he let them into the building, he was going to be otherwise preoccupied.

“For now, focus on making sure the cookies are cooled enough to be basketed so they’re not misshapen. That’s half iced, half not. I trust you and Alphie got that covered.” Moth’ir continued his instructions and both the young things nodded affirmatively.

“You two,” He pointed to Illya's dearest friend and the skittish dark haired woman beside her who was looking quite a bit like she might regret having come “,I want you start arranging the baskets. The folks that want them are trying to help so I need you two to make them look like something they can feel proud of instead of feeling pitied.”

That was technically the other reason why they would make the cookies fresh today. They could have made a whole stock ages ago but when some folks were well off enough to make freshly baked goods that day or buy them that way, a stale cookie really stood out. Nobody wanted to be the house or the stall that had the sad treats while children rushed others. It also cut down high traffic caused by that sort of situation. There was no real reason not to put the effort in save maybe the time, effort and cost but Moth'ir had never been one to half ass things. He knew Bukidai understood that too.

“Be a bit sparing with the organic bits though. We got gourds for days but the bits of twig and leaf are sparse. We are in Thanalan after all and nobody wants scraggly desert brush or a cactus in their pot of goodies.” They could pull it off if they really tried but Moth'ir would rather it not come to that though. “Think you have enough botanical knowledge and prettifying sense between the two of you to pull it off.”

“And the last of you,” Moth'ir turned his hard gaze at the out of place duo that served as the other halves of the two girls he'd just dictated two. The preeminent Helmet Sick and Elidibliss or whatever the hell they'd called themselves. “Frankly don't care whatcha do so long as it's helping and you're not under foot. And you, Emet..”

Moth'ir tossed something at the taller man with his auburn hair with the grey streak in it. Emet-Selch pulled himself away but the package still managed to hit him and flop on the floor. The Ascian regarded it like a snake or something of that caliber might break from the twine and brown paper at any moment. Moth'ir would never do that to an animal though. Emet-Selch inquired, not one to hide the derision from his voice “And what, pray tell, is that?”

“If you're gonna be here it's gonna be in a silly little outfit like the rest of us,” Moth'ir stated. Pulling the loops of the orange bowtie that was adorned with a little pumpkin on it for emphasis. Though it was a sad showing considering he was dressed more or less as normally as any waiter save for that detail. His jacket was even the typical pink. He had different standards for Emet-Selch though and those standards were that if he was going to make Thancred look at him he wasn’t allowed to try and look dignified. He was still a fallen enemy of the Scions after all. “For Morale.”

Even Elidibus had a pair of wolf ears plopped on the top of his head to match Saanvi and her cloaked dress. Something about the story with the hooded girl and the wolf.

“And if I don’t dress in whatever it is you’ve pulled from who knows where…?” Emet-Selch ventured to ask.

Moth’ir leaned toward him looking at him over the rim of his glasses with the most dire look on his face he said: “Then I bring all the pain of the frozen hells of Menphina down on you for the rest of the month.”

Emet-Selch would have rebutted him but he caught the alarmed looks of those who were better acquainted with the weird little man than he was. There was a tug on his sleeve and he looked down to see his beloved Arianna shaking her head no. The woman wasn’t much for conflict but this was also just a warning. Whatever the hell Moth’ir had meant, he meant business. He sighed and picked up the rotten little package “,where in this wretched little hovel should I change because I’m not doing it in front of the lot of you.”

Moth’ir grinned with his own triumph “,through the backroom door to the left.”

What Moth’ir had brought for him turned out to just be the outfit that had become all the rage in the Twelveswood due to the actions of mischievous clown guised imp. What Emet-Selch would describe as the outfit of a medicus but with stitches littered across the coat for some reason. Though he supposed it matched Arianna and her patchwork dress and stitches painted on her face. That did please him. Regardless he wasn’t wearing the mask and instituted a little creative aetherwork to substituted a monocle. He wasn’t as strong as he’d once been but he could manage that much.

As a helper he was rather more useless but Moth’ir tolerated his presence because it helped keep Arianna centered. She wasn’t really one for groups or chaos which today was going to be in ample amounts. Her skills with plants would be helpful though since a bit of wilted green could mean the loss of a basket which, depending on the flow of tonight’s festivities, could be devastating. They’d make due but it was just better to not have to do that at all.

Saanvi, Elidibus’ partner and pink haired miqo’te friend of Illya, was busy making sure the basket could be considered a decoration as much as a bowl. Illya was an able crafter but she cared little for looks itself. This is where Saanvi’s impeccable taste for the aesthetic came in. Elidibus would pipe in every once in awhile but the man contented himself mostly at stacking cookies. It was tedious work but it was perfect for him who was a little… scattered since being fished out from the top of the crystal tower.

Alphinaud offered his opinion from time to time being the resident artist of the group but he was also helping Illya ice the cookies that needed it. They’d come dressed as a prince and princess but Illya had had to roll up her sleeves and Alphinaud shed his gloves for this. It wasn’t exactly like paints so he struggled to some extent but after some guidance from Illya they were off trying new patterns and ideas. Moth’ir had to remind them a few times not to get too fancy with them because that was time they could be working on other things.

With Moth’ir kicking out batch of cookies and Thancred on baby duty, they were a productive little bunch. With the exception of Emet-Selch of course.

The Dapper Than wasn’t necessarily not in business for the time. Just that most its usual customers saw the stalls outside and were derailed from entering. Not so the customer that had managed to march past all of them on his way in, bleary eyed and noticeably perturbed by the whole scene in front of him.

“What the hell are all of you doing here?” Yorick asked, book under his arm. Looking a little put off by the enthusiastic waves from the younger members of the group.

“We’re helping out the fair,” Saanvi said brandishing her newly finished basket and waving it like she was a merchant trying to sell something to him.

“The what?” Yorick remarked. Apparently he’d been present minded enough to done his dress regalia but not enough to conceive his surroundings. Which was suitably like the man.

“How did you walk past all the decorations and shops on the way here?” Thancred asked him. His eyes were hidden by Moth’ir’s usual red and mirrored glasses he’d borrowed for his bloodkin look but they couldn’t hide the incredulity in his voice.

Yorick seemed to think about that a moment before shrugging. “It’s always decorated like that this time of year.”

“Because there’s always a fair here this time of year.” Thancred added.

Moth’ir pat him and took over the conversation “,judging by the dubious quality of your mind right now I’m assuming you’ve come for a bite to eat.”

Yorick nodded heavily and sat at the bar, laying his book out. It could either be a text on ancient Mhachi, obscure rituals, encounters with voidsent or one of his various fiction novels. It was really a toss up when it came to him.

“Alright but nothing that has to be baked and you’re mixing cookie dough so I can keep my hands free,” Moth’ir stated holding the bowl out to him.

Yorick made his complaints known in one very long drawn out and overly dramatic groaning noise but he took the bowl nonetheless. Yorick would always help if he had to but he would complain the entire time. That was just his way of doing things.

He’d not stipulated what to cook and Moth’ir hadn’t exactly asked but he was an easy enough person to cook for. If it had eggs, rice or potatoes in it he was probably fine by it. So long as one avoided the three dozen things Yorick could not stand which were fairly common throughout recipes everywhere. Moth’ir sometimes snuck in tomatoes when he was in charge of cooking just to see his face scrunch up. He’d begun putting tomatoes in Yorick’s dishes when he was in charge of cooking just to see his face scrunch up. Not that he complained and would even do his best to finish, he just had a helluva time while doing so. Though he also discovered that while Yorick couldn’t stand chunks of them or tomato sauces, if it was pureed and made into a soup he was rather more amicable about it.

Today it was an omelet over rice with some tomato paste drizzled over the top. Yorick had sent Moth’ir a despairing look but dutifully took a bite out of it. A swing and a miss in Moth’ir’s estimations and Yorick’s face did not scrunch but munched in surprise and seemed content to eat the rest of it. Moth’ir truly did not understand that man but he was half convinced his taste buds were messed up. He was also the only person he’d seen Illya’s specialty soup which Moth’ir was convinced would burn even the mouth of Azeyma, goddess of the sun.

After that things went back to normal and they’d just about forgotten Yorick was even there. Though he was the first of a few customers that did actually make it to the shop and was looking for something similar. Though mostly they were hoping for maybe slightly cheaper alcohol than what was being pushed outside. Those usually pressed back outside with a mug Moth’ir noted Bukidai would probably never seen again. Reasons why they were handing out cheaper ones than the usual ware.

Then the last of their group finally showed up. Kirishimi was supposed to be coming in with the rest of them but she’d said something had come up last minute. What came up seemed to be the handsome and highly unexpected gentleman she had come in with.

“Is that Lord Hien?” Alphinaud stated with fond amusement in his voice.

“The Prince of Doma from our allied country to the east in the poorer part of Ul’dah. I shouldn’t think so,” Thancred added in a misleadingly pleasant voice that demanded explanation. Specifically from Kirishimi.

“Well, he said he was coming and then I told him about all of this and he wanted to see so I couldn’t just leave him and-,” Kiri explained looking and sounding a bit like a child who’d gotten her hand caught in the cookie jar.

Yorick, between Thancred and Kirishimi, rubbed his temples. He didn’t dislike Kiri but she was very loud and energetic. Watching him get dragged along by the group of them when Kiri was around was an awful lot like watching a large dog trample a cat who’d only wanted to nap.

“I am here on behalf of Doma for a visit but when Kirishimi told me what she had meant to be doing today I asked her to show me,” Hien, ever the politic one of the pair, offered his own explanations to relieve Kirishimi the pressure “,I am unfamiliar with this holiday and thought it would be good to learn of our allies of Eorzea.”

“Tried looking for a costume for him but they’re plum out of ‘em this time of year but I thought this would still be more inconspicuous,” Kirishimi finished gesturing at the strange way the Princeling was dressed.

Moth’ir clicked tongue against his teeth “,Rishi, you’re dressed like a rose and he’s dressed like a gardner. Don’t you think that’s the story you should go with?”

Kirishimi looked down at her outfit with this roses and back to Hien like it hadn’t even occurred to her and then the both of their cheeks flushed and they looked away. Moth’ir exchanged looks with Thancred. Both were fond of Kirshimi in their own way but this whole song and dance was getting old and tired. Nevermind that both Moth’ir and Thancred had known each other for the better part of their lives and had only admitted to it being anything more than platonic after the birth of their daughter had forced it out of them. That just meant they knew.

Or something like that.

“Yeah, yeah well if you’re here, you’re here to help or eat and get out,” Moth’ir said then pointed at the baskets. “You can relieve Lady Laurel there and Silkie.Vi explain to them the way I explained it to you.”

Moth’ir’s nicknaming could be a bit oblique but “Lady Laurel” seemed to refer to Arianna who was ─ between the patrons and newest interruption ─ was looking an awful lot like she wanted to crawl out of her skin. Moth’ir offered her one of the tavern rooms to cool down in but she and Emet-Selch took the bench in the corner instead. It was there for folks who’d come for take out but it was mostly used by the elderly and children who were waiting for the ones who paid. It was also nice and out of the way of the bustle of the rest of the establishment. Which was good because with Kirishimi present the other part of the place was rapt with rising conversation.

Thancred looked between Emet-Selch ─ finally making himself useful at Arianna’s side ─ and Elidibus stacking his cookies and murmured to Moth’ir “,You ever feel like we’re running a retirement home for old Ascians.”

SLAM! ─ went the cover of Yorick’s books as he shut it with awful more force than was necessary. This drew Thancred’s attention as well as Moth’s who burbled angrily before promptly falling back asleep. After the whole thing with Lahabrea had come to light, Yorick and he had had a bit of a falling out. They were never close but they had squabbled quite viciously for a minute. It had ended technically but ever since the two had had a habit of saying something that would set the other off.

Yorick placed his gil on the table while staring ruefully in Thancred’s direction. “I’ll be leaving now.”

“Y’know, you could lend a hand if you wanted,” Moth’ir said casually disregarding the tension between the two.

“If you had told me─” Yorick began but was cut off by Thancred piping in unhelpfully “Nobody knew where you were for weeks.”

“IF you had told me what was going on,” Yorick reiterated though he was once more interrupted this time by Elidibus who said flatly “,You would not have come.”

This time Yorick pointed at Elidibus like he’d just won a prize for a correct answer at a game show “,I would not have come!”

“Lie to yourself all you want but you’re as much of a busybody as the rest of them,” Moth’ir called out quickly after the rapidly retreating man even after all he was the sound of the click of his heels on the stone outside.