#this is supposed to be a moogle joke...ahem

[einwish]

Small, short, and very much grounded, the Incubator cranes his neck to look up at the man towering above him and exposes the tragic truth:

§ No, I can't fly. §

§ But if you wished hard enough, one day it might come true! §

⋆˚🐾˖ @roshield ⊹ . ݁˖ .

[yafaemi]

ii. | close.

Ok then! The second for the challenge. ^-^ This is probably one of the stories that means the most to me. Just, like... in general, really. o.o It’s an idea for a story I’ve had for a while. I did have a really rough draft of this, so I thought ‘hey! that kinda matches the prompt! I should actually write that out like I’ve been meaning to!’ so... I did. I would have made this one the first I did for the challenge, but I didn’t have it finished yesterday, so. o.o

Description: Through thick and thin, through good and bad. Two becomes three, three becomes four. Amidst the setting sun and the lapping waves, will their feelings be unveiled to one another, truly and fully.

Warning: there’s a very brief allusion to suicide during this story, as well as death in general. If you’re uncomfortable with these things for any reason, I would advise caution. 

_________________________________________________________ 

The crash of the water was the only thing that Amandine seemed to keep her eyes on. Amidst the idle chatter from the others, drowned out by the sounds of the waves. Every ounce of focus, settled onto the tide as it went back and forth, back and forth.

She never liked going to the beach. The seaweed, the creatures, the uncertainty of the water… yet here she was, on a beach, friends at her side, all watching the sun set on what had been a frankly fantastic day. 

Save for one last thing that she had to tell them. 

“If you keep looking at the water like that, you’re literally gonna boil the entire beach, Mandi.” Aurora’s easy grin was easy to see from the corner of her eye. Nestled into a beach chair as she was, almost buried in several towels that nearly covered her eyes. (For some reason, a sight not unlike Oliver’s habit of huddling into every single blanket in their house. Perhaps it was just a shared sibling habit.) 

From beside her chair, Oliver leaned forward by a hint. Looking between Amandine and Aurora, then glancing towards Miyuki— only drawn back to conversation by Aurora’s remark, no doubt— until Oliver finally smiled. 

“That’s the thinking face,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. Amandine let out a bare scoff at the words and crossed her arms a little tighter over her torso. 

“I have no thinking face, thank you very much.” 

“No, you really do. You make that face when you read books sometimes.” 

Whatever reason the words had to make Aurora laugh were unknowable. That was, at least, until she whispered, “Does that mean that Amandine doesn’t actually think at all? Crazy. Just… an empty head, nothing in there in the slightest. No thoughts.” 

Amandine turned back towards the sight of the water, eyes closing just long enough to convey the slowly withering patience she’d arrived with. Her greatest adversary— Aurora’s ability to drive any single person in Eorzea insane. Save Oliver, perhaps.

Though it was an unfair comparison. He had patience rivalling that of the Twelve to begin with. 

...Likely from being her sibling, though Amandine never thought to ask. 

“You just described your own head perfectly, Aurora.” Miyuki took the chance that Amandine hadn’t. Despite herself, she let out a snicker. From the side, she heard Oliver let out a soft sigh, and Aurora laugh again.

“Come on! That’s not fair. I thought we already established: I just have a very, very small moogle in my head, and they’re the one controlling everything.” 

“Ok, guys, slow down for a minute. I’m pretty sure Amandine wanted to say something before,” Oliver said as Amandine finally reopened her eyes. The sky’s orange tips were slowly beginning to take on a deeper tinge. “That’s what the thinking face usually gets followed with. Some sort of words, or just a long sip of coffee.”  

“If I had the coffee, it would be both, I assure you,” she replied with another long breath. Her shoulders raised with the inhale, dropping slowly as she let out a heavy sigh. “While I may come to regret the words I’m about to say— in fact, I am almost positive I will—…” another moment of pause, another breath, and… “I would like to say… thank you. All of you.” 

It was about the reactions she’d assumed. Oliver’s smile wavered briefly as he tilted his head, and Aurora stared at her with a scrunched face and one hand pointed out towards her in question. Miyuki shrugged, nodded, and went back to watching the ocean, only taking a side-glance at her every so often.

Aurora’s scrunched stare continued for another few moments before she spoke up, looking around the beach. “I don’t think we… did anything? Unless slowly driving you to the brink of madness is what you’re thanking us for. In which case… ya, you’re totally welcome.” She offered a wide grin and a thumbs-up. “Always happy to help.”  

“Not… necessarily, no,” Amandine answered. She didn’t deny it. Denying that was practically ignoring half of their friendship to begin with. “What I am thanking you for is crashing— quite literally, in fact— into my life.” 

“...wait, what?” 

Oliver’s face, somehow, met his palm. Inexplicably, of course. “I thought we were over that…” 

Miyuki raised an eyebrow. “I don’t even want to begin to know. So this is me, not asking.” He went to turn away, only to stop as Aurora put a hand on his arm and grinned. He looked up with a slow stare. “You’re going to tell me anyways.” It wasn’t posed as a question.

“Oliver crashed into Mandi the first time we met in Ishgard. Literally, he just…” she trailed off, putting up her arms until one stood far taller than the other. The shorter of her positioned arms crashed into the other, and they both flopped onto the beach chair. “You should’ve seen him. He was so embarrassed.” 

“Amandine’s being sentimental, guys, stop spoiling the moment.” Oliver made a valiant effort in pretending his face wasn’t starting to go bright red. It was failing miserably, yet the effort was present and obvious. 

The fact that Amandine could feel herself smiling at their antics was both terrifying and quite routine. Not even Halone could save her soul at this point, she feared. It was lost, gone amidst the pleasant memories. 

Not that she wanted it back, anyways. Not if it meant losing them, frustrating as they could be.

“I suppose the silence is my queue to continue, then. Ahem.” While the words weren’t exactly there anymore, she supposed it would be unfair to leave them at such a cliffhanger. She took another deep breath, gathered her wits, and spoke, “For as much as we tend to joke, and pretend that your company is infuriating to me— which, at times, it certainly is—” Oliver and Aurora chuckled at that. Miyuki tried not to, yet even he couldn’t manage a straight face— “The three of you are some of my most precious friends. You have changed my life in ways that I wouldn’t have thought possible, and forced me to confront many, many things in the world and about myself that I otherwise wouldn’t have acknowledged, much less changed.

“Regardless of the circumstances that saw us truly come together— a tragic death of a dear friend, a mutual need for revenge, a certain someone pointing a gun at Aurora’s head—” Once again, Miyuki tried and failed to keep from reacting as Aurora only let out a pronounced sigh— “Our friendship is something that I have and always will treasure. I dare not think of my life without you, for that is a life I could not desire any less.” 

Silence took over as her words settled into the air. It took all of a few moments for her to carefully wipe the side of her eye, before settling back into her chair as she had been a few minutes prior. 

Aurora dipped her head into the pile of towels. When she emerged, her eyes seemed to be a hint glassy. “Aw, c’mon, Mandi…” she took a half-moment to sniff, “...you’re gonna make Oliver cry.” 

Miyuki snorted. “And not yourself. Obviously.” 

“I was getting to that, thanks,” she snapped back with a wave of dismissal. Miyuki only grinned at the amusement in her face, and settled back into his chair. There was a soft ‘sure, you were’ that she ignored as he did, and then a smile. “And me, too. For the crying thing. Happy now, ‘Yuki?” 

“I would be if you stopped calling me that.” 

From beside Amandine’s chair, there was a soft sniff. Oliver moved his hand away from his eyes rather quickly, brushing off a part of hair that had fallen into his face—  or so it seemed, at least. “I would try and disagree, but… I can’t. It means a lot to hear that, Amandine. Really. 

“And… I’d like to agree! I’m glad that I met you, too. And Miyuki. Even if we got off on the wrong foot in the beginning,” he added with a shift forward to look towards Miyuki. “...The… really, really wrong foot. I still feel a little bad about it, sometimes, honestly.” 

His answer was a simple roll of the shoulder. “I threatened to kill your sister.” He sent one half of a glance towards Aurora. She had a sudden interest in her chair, yet the sheepish smile was unmistakable. “The ‘wrong foot’ was warranted.” 

“Can we just acknowledge that Oliver didn’t even mention me in that?” Aurora spoke up. Interest in the chair had passed alongside the mentions of her very intimate meeting with the muzzle of Miyuki’s gun, clearly. She shifted forwards on her chair, pouted, and said, “Like, I’m feeling a little betrayed. You almost kill him over killing me, but you aren’t even happy to know me? That’s just cold, Oli.”

The long-suffering stare he gave her was muted in the midst of the teasing wink she gave. Oliver let out a short laugh and shrugged, one hand going to his hair once more as he fell entirely silent. His words, when next he spoke, seemed far too quiet for the easy air about the group. “Of course I’m glad to have met you, Rory.” The look in his eye was enough to make Amandine glance away. “To be entirely honest, I… don’t think I’d actually be here, if I hadn’t. And I don’t just mean the beach, either.” 

Whatever it was in the look they shared, it was enough to drive Aurora to tears once more. Her head dropped near immediately, one hand shielding her eyes away from a brief moment. The tears still fell, visible, vanishing into the towel and followed by more. Then, without another word, she got up from the collection of them, moved over to Oliver’s chair, and caught him in a hug. 

There were a few moments of quiet as the two of them stayed there, before Aurora finally ruffled his hair and moved back to her chair. As she settled down, she let out a hard sigh. “...Oliver’s not allowed to make sentimental remarks anymore. It’s officially illegal.

“...and neither is Amandine, actually.” Aurora’s still teary-eyed stare shifted towards her for a moment, only causing one raise of the brow by Amandine. “For the sake of me not embarrassing myself.” 

As Oliver only brushed his hair back into a place where it wasn’t bothering his slightly glassy eyes, it was Miyuki that spoke up with a sly grin. “Well, if they can’t, then I will.” 

The three of them blinked at him. Shoulders shifted, small quirks of the brow in surprise. Aurora almost tilted her head entirely, though the surprise in her face was pleasant. Rare was it that he spoke more than 11 words in a single go— actually speaking of his feelings was unheard of in the months they’d known him. 

He took a long breath. Shoulders raising slowly with the intake of air, dropping again with a low, controlled sigh. “The last few months I’ve spent with you have been the happiest I’ve felt in years, unfortunately. You are all headache inducing. Infuriating. The Kami themselves would balk at your collective antics. And I’m glad to be a part of them.” Miyuki’s smile was almost tentative, yet the good-natured malice was not. “You aren’t worth the trouble that you are, but I’m still glad that I put that gun to Aurora’s head. And I would do it again.”

“Oh, gee, thanks. I’m really feelin’ the love, ‘Yuki.” 

“I’m going to do it now if you call me that again.” 

Aurora only rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue at him. Miyuki facepalmed and muttered something along the lines of regret. Amandine cleared her throat, “While I doubt Oliver appreciates the latter sentiment much, it’s rather reassuring to hear that you value our company as much as we value yours.” 

She looked up again in genuine betrayal. “W— he wasn’t even the one who nearly got killed th— if this is your way of saying I’m third-wheeling here, Mandi, it’s not much appreciated!” 

“You’re far too hard to ignore in such a way, my dear,” Amandine replied with a laugh. Oliver joined Miyuki in facepalming. She only laughed more. “Regardless. I know you, Aurora, and I know for a fact that you’re likely not offended by his words.” 

At that, all Aurora could offer was a shrug. “I’m not saying you’re wrong. I’m just saying, y’know… I don’t have to be happy that you’re right.” 

“It was really sweet there for a few minutes,” Oliver murmured into his hand, eyes focused on the waves in the sun-shaded distance, “Really. Then it just… wasn’t.” 

“What, were you really expecting any different from us, of all people?” Aurora let out a short tsk, “That’s your mistake, Oli.” 

A round of laughter from them all shook away the last remnants of the emotional moment that had been. Though, before it drifted back to the comfortable lull in conversation, Miyuki turned his attention to Aurora again. 

First, it was a look between he, Amandine, and Oliver. Then a quick push-up of his glasses. And finally, he said in a far too conspiratory tone, “We’ve said our pieces. It’s your turn. Make your brother cry again.” 

“Hey— hold on, this is just a spontaneous thing!” Despite nearly jumbling the words, it seemed that she managed to get them across. Aurora shot a wide-eyed look about the area, “You can’t just make me talk about my feelings. I did not sign up to have a heart-warming friendship-is-everything moment today.” 

Amandine stifled a laugh. “Heartwarning,” she echoed with another, shorter chuckle. “Yes, the tears in my eyes as Miyuki called us infuriating. Truly, my heart could hardly take more of this outspill of affection.” 

“To be fair, that’s like… the most emotionally open he’s been with us since we met.”

Miyuki scoffed. “Hardly.” 

From the loud sigh coming from Oliver’s chair, he was reminiscing about the true heartwarming parts of the conversation again. Or, at least, the parts that hadn’t yet devolved. Eyes still set out at the paint-spilled sky, and the faint view of the stars that came into view.

“Look. I’m terrible with words! I dunno what to say!” Aurora waved her hands about as if gesturing wildly to a mess on the floor. The frazzled look she’d given them complimented it well, yet their silence seemed to be enough to make her give up. “Seriously. Can I make a script really quick, if you really want me to do this?”

“Buckle to peer pressure without one.” Miyuki seemed unphased by the deadpan stare she offered him. “Stop being a coward.” 

Oliver finally turned back into the conversation, shifting entirely in his chair until he sat at the very front of it. Head in his hands, crossed over his legs and expectant. “Only do it if you want to, Rory.”

“Well, now I have to, anyways. I’m buckling to peer pressure. You guys suck.”

Amandine tucked in her legs beneath her, head pulling forward to rest on her knees. “Halone grant me patience,” she muttered, and then pulled back up into a comfortable position. 

“Ok. Uh… gods, I… ok. I’m gonna do it. Just so you guys don’t bug me about this some other time.” Aurora scrunched her eyes closed for a few moments, one hand closing into a fist at her side. Both her eyes and the fist opened at the same time, like an idea struck in her mind. “I dunno how to start this. So… you guys are my best friends. 

“...I guess that’s sort of obvious. But, seriously, you just mean the world to me. We’ve been together through good times, and bad times. At our worst, best, and…” she trailed off with a look at Miyuki. “Most intent on causing me bodily harm-times.” He could hardly hold back the snicker. “Literally none of us got off on the right foot in the beginning. We all kind of hated each other at some point of time since meeting. 

“Which is just weird, but it’s a concern for later, maybe. What’s important is that I would do anything for you guys. Like, you mean so much to me. And I’m so happy that I get to call you guys my friends. Sometimes I just kinda think about it, and I’m like, “wow, they’re so cool. I can’t believe these people are my friends.” It’s crazy. And what’s even weirder, is that I feel like I’ve known you all my life, and even longer than that. And I haven’t. Not even Oliver.” 

Despite how he looked away, his feelings at the words were evident enough.

“I just… I love you guys. I really do. So, y’know… if we ever go our separate ways, someday… just know that you can count on me. There’s nothing in this world, or the next, or the next after that that’d keep me from being there for you. You’re all stuck with my friendship, whether you want it or not. And I’m really good at keeping my promises.”

No one said a single word when she drifted off to silence. 

Not even the crashing waves, so faded into the background of their conversation as it was, seemed to break into the impenetrable quiet that had been crafted after Aurora’s final words. 

No muscles moved, not even a hint of a breath, just the evening sky and the new, thickened moment of peace. 

Unbroken.

Until, at least, Aurora took in a shaky breath. “...please say something. I feel really awkward and I have no idea what to say. I just kinda… went with it, there.” 

It seemed as thought it was Oliver’s turn to deliver a hug. He got up, sat next to Aurora, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “That was really sweet, Rory.” 

“Indeed,” Amandine nodded her approval alongside her words. Her smile  was light, yet still filled with the same sort of feeling as it had been during her own small speech. “It was lovely.” 

“Thank the gods. I was kinda freaking out on if it came out superficial or something.” 

Miyuki whistled. “If that was superficial, then I’d rather not know what the genuine looks like.” 

“It’s not actually words at that point. I just cry on the spot and point at you,” Aurora replied with a laugh. There was a brief attempt to showcase it, a downward pulled imitation of a cry and her pointing at the three of them wildly. 

Slowly, the conversation drifted back to its normal state between madness and seriousness. The heart-to-heart ended, emotions laid bare for friends to see. Amandine’s attention was pulled back into the setting sky, watching as the stripes of blue became more and more pronounced to quash the rest of the evening’s color.

There, as she had done so many times before, Amandine heard the familiar voice of long-departed friend. 

Look after them for me, won’t you? A promise made of her, in the darkest hour that she’d known in many long years. 

She knew. She knew this time would come. She must have. Their band grew from three to four, and they never needed someone to guide them, or hold their hands. They never did. 

Yet that promise kept Amandine there, right alongside them. Kept them all together. Kept her close. It was never balance, nor sagely guidance. It never was. Simply, it was what they needed, in the end— Amandine, Aurora, Oliver, and eventually MIyuki. It was the incredible good that had come from those dying words. 

It was clear. There was one last person she had yet to thank.

I pray that you rest easy, Sydessin, and know the good you created. From your final promise, you gave me far more than I had once thought. 

And for that, I will be ever grateful.