#what do we owe to each other ? ( alphinaud ) ;;

[myreia]

Divergence of the Heart

CHAPTER THREE: COERTHAN WISDOM

Chapter Rating: Teen (full story rating is Explicit) Characters: Aureia Malathar (WoL), Aymeric de Borel, Thancred Waters, Hilda Ware Pairings: Aureia/Aymeric, Aureia/Thancred, Thancred/Hilda Chapter Words: 2,176 Notes: Set during the Heavensward patches. Summary: Aureia Malathar may have made a name for herself in Ishgard, but her deeds come with a hefty personal toll. Despite her victories at the Grand Melee she has never felt more unsure of herself. Her relationship with Thancred—the person she thought knew her the best—is strained, yet she cannot abandon him. Aymeric is falling for her harder with each passing day, yet she cannot bring herself to accept it. All may be fair in love and war, but at least war is predictable. Love on the other hand… Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 Read on AO3

The letter remains forgotten for weeks.

It wasn’t long after the Grand Melee that the next crisis Thancred feared so much raised its ugly head. Estinien’s dramatic return at Falcon’s Nest threw Ishgard into a panic. With her thoughts bent on stopping Nidhogg’s vengeance and severing his control of her friend, all other concerns were disregarded.

It was only by the skin of their teeth that they triumphed. The city remains scarred, the bridge to the Gates of Judgement shattered and broken. They came so close to losing everything. If they had not been so fortunate, if luck had not been on their side…

“Aureia.”

A softspoken voice, a gentle squeeze of her shoulder.

Pulling herself out of her thoughts, Aureia raises her head and glances up. Aymeric towers over her, a mug of steaming tea in his hands. Though he has barely visited his office since the battle on the Steps of Faith, he remains uniformed, his greatsword resting against the far wall. The candlelight catches his earring, the blue diamond casting a glint against his pale skin.

“Here,” he says, proffering the mug. “I thought you could use something before you fall asleep.”

Returning his smile, she takes the mug and raises it to her lips. The gesture sends a strange little warmth coursing through her chest that has nothing to do with the tea. It wasn’t that long ago that another dear friend had done just the same, granting her a moment of peace when she thought her life upended.

The circumstances now are quite different.

Aymeric settles into a chair next to her and sips quietly at his own mug. Together, they have stood vigil over Estinien’s sickbed, trading off with Alphinaud. Though the chirurgeons have assured them that he will make a full recovery, Aureia cannot shake the worry weighing on her shoulders. It is the same for all of them.

Estinien is too dear, too important. For Aymeric, he is the dear friend whose life he would end only as a final resort. For Alphinaud, he is the one he would save, the one he could not fail after Haurchefant’s death. And for Aureia herself… he is her staunchest ally who has dragged her out of more messes than she can count. She could not leave him to his fate. After everything he has done for her, she owed him that much.

“Thank you,” Aureia murmurs, sipping on the tea. The liquid is warm and pleasant, lightly spiced. It will keep her awake long enough for Alphinaud to return.

Aymeric settles into the chair next to her. “Though has occurred to me that if you wish to sleep, you should,” he says. “Please do not push yourself on my account—”

“And leave you here all on your own?” she interrupts, an affectionate smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Without me you are wont to do paperwork at Estinien’s bedside and we can’t have that, now can we? What would he say if he woke up to find you with your nose glued to a sheaf of parchment?”

He blushes, covering it with an awkward cough. “Glued is a fair bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think? It is not quite like that—”

“Your best friend nearly died and you’re here at his bedside in uniform. Even now, I can see you thinking. You may not have a pen to put to paper here, but I can see those wheels turning. In all this time I’ve known you, you have never stopped working.”

“I… have. At times.”

She sets down her mug and folds her arms. “Oh, really?” she replies, raising an eyebrow. A challenge. “When? Do tell, I’m dying of curiosity. And the times you have been thrown in prison or otherwise inconvenienced do not count.”

“I… well…” He presses curled knuckles to his mouth, a look of consternation crossing his face. “Lucia could tell you.”

Aureia snorts with laughter and shakes her head, barely able to contain her grin. “Oh, Aymeric,” she says, lightly touching his shoulder. “You make this too easy.”

He pauses, his gaze lingering on her hand. “Easy…?”

“I’m teasing,” she continues, picking up her mug. She shifts comfortably in her seat and settles into a slouched position, nursing her spiced tea. “I’ve known very few people with your will and determination. It’s admirable. But you must learn to take time for yourself before you wear yourself thin. Take it from someone who knows it all too well.”

Aymeric falls silent and sips his tea quietly, lost in thought. His gaze passes over Estinien, lingering on his sleeping face. “I will have to thank him when he wakes,” he says. “It is only thanks to his tomfoolery that we have been given a reprieve.”

“Perhaps. I’d advise against calling it tomfoolery or he might strike you with his lance.”

“Then it is a risk I must take.”

They exchange looks, sharing a small smile.

Aureia sets down her empty mug and loops a lock of black hair behind her ear, exposing the delicate point. It is hard to break the habit of hiding the most noticeable feature of her heritage while in Ishgard. Haurchefant warned her, all those months ago, that the nobility would not look fondly on her mixed heritage. Though it is easier now than it was then, even her status and fame are not enough to dissuade the murmurs and stares.

But in the company of friends, she is free to be herself. Aymeric has never judged her, not even when she was a stranger. He has his own burdens of parentage, as she knows all too well. Perhaps they have a commonality, in that way.

She’s all too aware of the way he watches her now, observing her with that quiet, familiar wonder. Thancred once called it a look of boundless relief and joy, irritably calling out Aymeric’s inability to hide his own emotions. She was infuriated with him then, too bothered by this soured version of his customary wit to think much of what he said. But now she recalls… Did he realize something that she did not?

Gods, help me, I think it might be love. One would think a politician more practiced at concealing his emotions.

The realization hits her like a slap to the face.

Aureia freezes, her heart pounding fitfully in her chest. Exhaling a breath, she adjusts her position in her chair and curls her fingers around the edge of her armrest. “Perhaps we should speak of something else?” she ventures carefully, fervently praying that her voice sounds casual. “Unrelated to duty or politics or…”

Shit.  

She trails off, cursing inwardly. This is more difficult than she thought.

“There was one topic I wished to broach,” Aymeric says. He pauses, his gaze flickering once again to Estinien. He wets his lower lip, as if he if hesitant to speak his next words. “After the Grand Melee, I sent you a letter. As you did not respond, I thought perhaps that I had been too forward and presumptuous with my words, but then… I recalled the messenger’s youth and nervousness at approaching you alone. There was perhaps a chance that my letter never reached you.”

Aureia’s heart clenches. The letter! The letter…

“Fuck,” she blurts.

His brows raise in momentary shock. Then he collapses in a fit of laughter, a hand pressed to his face, his shoulders shaking.

“I’m so sorry!” Aureia continues, the words falling fast and furious from her lips. “Aymeric, I never intended to leave it unanswered, I… gods… fuck… I… I’m a fool and an idiot, and that is the only excuse I have. Nidhogg returned so soon afterwards, I don’t know how, but I—”

“It is all right, my friend,” he says, lowering his hand. He gazes joyously at her, his eyes shining bright. He is unable to contain his grin. “I had a feeling something of the sort had occurred. Consider us both fools and idiots, then, as I should have inquired much sooner than I did. This is the second time my invitation has fallen through. If I didn’t know better, I’d assume Halone herself was insistent that nothing ever come of it.”

She pauses, returning his gazes. Her heart flutters in her chest. Gods, what is wrong with her?

Aymeric shifts in his seat, drawing close to her. “Aureia,” he says. He rests a hand tentatively next to hers on the armrest, his fingers brushing hers. “If I may—”

The door creaks open. Reacting on instinct, Aymeric withdraws his hand and Aureia shifts to the edge of her chair, putting distance between them. They turn as one to face the threshold.

Alphinaud pokes his head through the door. “Uh, Lord Commander?” he says tentatively. “If I may have a word…?”

Aymeric gives her a knowing look and rises to his feet. “Of course, Master Alphinaud,” he replies. He crosses the room quickly and disappears through the threshold, closing the door behind him.

Aureia exhales a long breath and bows over in her seat, her palms pressed to her knees. Battling Garleans, confronting primals, defeating dragons… That is simple compared to the chaos of her own heart. Hilda once asked her if someone in Ishgard had caught her eye. Perhaps it wasn’t that someone has caught her eye. Perhaps it is that she has only now realized that someone has been there all along—

Her stomach plummets. She doesn’t want to think about Hilda. Or Thancred. Or whatever circumstances have pushed them together.

Thancred…

“Fuck,” she says.

He left Ishgard almost a month back. Their final conversation is still stark in her mind, leaving her numb if she thinks about it too long. She doesn’t know where they stand. Perhaps she could have loved him once, but not now. Not like this. The time for that passed them by.

He has made that all too clear.

“…you’re an idiot,” a rough voice says.

Aureia bolts upright, shocked out of her stupor. “Estinien?” she breathes, resting a hand on the edge of his bed.

The dragoon’s eyes remain closed, his face a sickly grey, his hands folded neatly on top of the covers. As always, he draws little breath, his chest barely moving. His lips crack open, broken and dry, and he coughs weakly.  

“Do me a favour and go with him for once. Give it a chance, for Fury’s sake. He will never shut up about you otherwise.”

Aureia grips the covers, twisting a fistful between her fingers. “Estinien—”

Too late. His head lolls on his shoulder, as if he had never woken.

The door opens. Aymeric and Alphinaud pass through the threshold, both with severe looks on their faces. Distracted as she is by Estinien’s words, Aureia can’t fathom what they’ve discussed.

“Let me take your place,” Alphinaud says, dropping into Aymeric’s chair. “You must be exhausted. Go and rest. I will notify you if he wakes.”

Aureia nods, mouth too dry to speak. Rising from her seat, she places a gentle hand on Alphinaud’s shoulder, then meets Aymeric’s eyes. He nods, shooting a sideways glance at the door, and collects his greatsword. She sweeps across the room, Aymeric only a few steps behind, and together they pass through the threshold and out into the hallway.

“You should know he woke very briefly,” Aureia says as they walk side-by-side. The flickering lamplight guides their steps, casting a golden glow across the cold stone walls.

Aymeric falls silent. Their footfalls echo together in a measured pace. “Did he speak?” he asks after a moment, a raw pain in his voice. “What did he say?”

“He cursed at me and fell asleep.”

He laughs weakly and inhales a shaky breath. “Of course. I would expect nothing less of him.”

“Aymeric—”

Aureia seizes his hand, pulling him to a stop, and raises her chin to meet his eyes. She is a good fulm shorter than him, if not more, the top of her head barely reaching his upper chest. He stares at her with a strangely wistful look in his eyes, and his hand brushes her cheek, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. They stand there for some time, alone in that hall, their profiles illuminated by lamplight, both frozen by hesitance.

“Aureia, perhaps a third time is too much, but I would ask again,” Aymeric says. “Have dinner with me.”

She pauses. Why is her heart aching? “And this time you may have my answer,” she replies. “I would be glad to. On one condition.”

“What?” he asks, sudden dismay in his voice.

Chuckling, she lifts up on tiptoe and pats his cheek. He will never not be easy to tease. “Let’s make it soon—before another crisis arrives to distract us.”

Aymeric smiles, quiet joy crinkling the corners of his eyes. “At the very least, I can promise you that,” he says, raising her hand to his lips. He gently kisses it and lets go. “Until then, my lady. Goodnight.”

[jefarawol]

“Jefara?”

“What is it?” She called back to the door.

“You have some visitors.” Urianger's muffled voice replied.

“I'll be right out.” She pulled on her favourite cardigan and pulled open the door.

Along in the main receiving room she could see her comrades surrounding two tall figures; her father and to her surprise, Aymeric.

“Lord Speaker? To what do we owe the honour?” She switched to her formal speech, suppressing the joy she had on seeing him.

“I wished to return the favor of you escorting me to Gridania.” he smiled warmly back, he took her hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss to her fingers. “The Father to the Warrior of Light deserves no less.”

“Thank you Ser Aymeric.” She turned to her father. “Apa welcome to our base.”

“Thank you lanyà,” he embraced her tightly. “Ser Aymeric mentioned you had come across the location of our homeland?”

“Oh yes!” Tataru piped up, “Master Gosetsu left this for you!”

The receptionist bustled towards them with a rolled parchment, Jefara took the item from her carefully. “He said he marked its location on the map for you!”

“Thank you Tataru,” She trembled slightly, “Shall we take a look?”

“How about we take it through and look over it with dinner?” Alphinaud suggested. “Ser Aymeric, since you made such effort to come all this way for Master Barham, why don't you stay for dinner? That is if you are not in a hurry to return to your duties?”

“Actually I have business in Dragonhead with Lord Emmanellain in the morning so my journey back is shorter, I would be happy to stay a little longer in good company.”

“Well that's settled, however I have one request, Ser.” Thancred held his arm out to stop the Lord Speaker as he began to follow the crowd.

“Oh?”

“Leave your title and your political status at the door.” The hyur grinned. “Tonight you dine with friends.”

“I think that is more than amenable.”

Dinner was a humble affair compared to anything they had previously had in Ishgard, Aymeric found he enjoyed the ease of conversation and camaraderie of it all. Jefara and Barham poured over the map, both with an excited energy at the concept of returning to their homeland, he smiled when she looked up at him.

“So if Gosetsu claims your homeland was near Doma, that would make you both Othardian.” Y'shtola mused.

“Othard is to the east is it not?” Alphinaud asked.

“Far to the east.” Y'shtola nodded.

“It will be quite a journey, I do not even know when we would have time to make such a trip.” Jefara looked at her father sadly. “Not with my new responsibilities here.”

“Your work here is important, lanyá, I do not expect you to drop everything for me.”

“How long is the journey?” Aymeric asked, leaning over to look at the map himself, his fingers brushing briefly against the Warrior’s, she responded by pressing her leg against his.

“Several weeks by ship.” G'in chimed in. “It's roughly one to Thavnair if I recall my own journey. Othard is further still.”

“With the looming Gyr Abanian expedition too, it's not likely you will be able to head that way for some time.”

She sighed.

“Well at least we know where to go, when the time comes.” She smiled at Barham.

“How long has it been?” Aymeric asked softly.

“Nineteen summers, almost.” Barham answered. “What I would give to see a szívem again. Not only that to see how my fiú has grown.”

“It will be good to see them both again.”

“Does that mean you’ll leave us for good?” Alisaie huffed slightly. “If you go back home?”

“Alisaie!” Alphinaud chided her.

“What, you're all thinking it! I’m saying it.” she crossed her arms.

“As much as I long to see my home and my family, I do not think I could live like that any more.” She smiled at Alisaie, “The world is so much bigger and wonderful than I could ever imagine. I’ve met so many people here, ones I do not wish to give up anytime soon."

She looked at them all, each one smiled brightly at her, the only one who looked at her quizzically was Thancred. She was about to wonder what would cause a reaction when other voices cut in distracting her from the thought.

“Aww us?” Y’shtola mocked with a laugh.

“She clearly means the Fortemps, they practically adopted her in Ishgard!” Tataru chuckled.

“And what about you Aymeric,” G’in cocked his ears. “How long have the two of you been an item?”

Silence descended on the room, all eyes turning toward Jefara and Aymeric.

“I beg your pardon?” The elezen looked at him, plain faced as possible.

[zorkaya-moved]

It seemed that Dahlia could listen, it was already a good start. Though, her reactions were much less explosive than she expected them to be in the beginning. Whichever it was: contempt, guilt, or despair - it didn't matter. What mattered was how this person will handle the future endeavors and the harsh, political climate of Ishgard. They were a cruel sort, Sokolova knew. They were cruel, cold, and they were not united. Their own leader was a liar (but such words muh not be uttered by the silverette until there was more proof). It didn't matter if the Warrior of Light was new or old, she didn't belong to the group of people who got more respect from her than... No, it shouldn't be said. The Elezen made sure to watch the myriad of emotions on the woman's face, the Viera woman is beautiful but a pretty face won't save anyone from reality's harshness. The winters were the best way to explain Zarina's personality, approach, and survival tactics.

"Oh, no screams and no denials? Good." How amusing. Maybe she should tone down the meanness of her words, the sharpness of them but the woman refuses to. Tataru will scold her, but it doesn't matter. Within Ishgard, she mustn't be seen and mustn't be recognized. The Warrior of Light doesn't know yet, the large story behind the Elezen's tension within the Holy See. "I'm glad you're starting to see reason so quickly. We'll get along splendidly if this is the case in the future."

At the last inquiry, the silverette glanced at Dahlia over her shoulder before putting on her hood. Time's running out for her to meet up with her informant and the merchant who was still owed some gold coins to make sure they won't speak of Warrior of Light and will keep tabs on her when Sokolova would continue to dive deeper into Ishgardian ranks.

"I asked the cook to make you better food and paid for it, so you don't have to worry about that. Tataru is currently gathering information and Alphinaud is discussing matters on his own," she recounts what everyone's doing currently. Haurchefant hasn't met her yet, all for the better. Zarina doesn't need others to recognize her. It'd be... bad for future. It also would be better to avoid de Borel. "I will be back in four hours to check on you and to go over what's going on outside or what I've heard of the Scions, alright? Then, we can... get acquainted a bit better. We haven't had the time to introduce ourselves to each other better. Now, be a good girl and rest, alright?"

She had to leave for now, but she'll be back in a moment. It'd be better for them to spend some time together to get to know each other. The Juggernaut of the Scions never remained in the Waking Sands, she always worked alone. It's time to bring up teamwork... in a place she once called her home.

"In four hours, I'll be back. Get your questions straight before then and we can exchange information for what it's worth."

( 🐇 ) SHE'D ONLY MANAGED to retain her sheepishness for a short moment before the blunt words came forth out of zarina's lips - and as cheerful as ever. dahlia blinks at first, wondering if what just happened did just happen. her green hues STARE at the ishgardian 'fore she pulls such a look away - it was rude to do such things ( etiquette had to be recalled, her tribe didn't care for such things and, twelve, it was such a difficult habit to break. even after such a LONG TIME GONE ).

< THANKS . . >

SHE WAS STILL unsure how to respond, her hands give some semblance of one before she could really stop herself, grimacing as the response continued. by the twelve where was alphinaud when she needed him to pull her out of a hole SHE ACCIDENTLY DUG.

HER EYES SQUINT at the continued bluntness of the elezen's words, though not responding rashly due to the knowledge of that is simply how she communicates. tataru had reminded her more than once that it was simply how she was. the veena, in simple terms, was thankful for the bluntness but . . it did not make it sting any less for her commentary to be said to be so ridiculous or irrational. she was being such, due to the stress of the current political climate ( she was still learning ; new places brought about different situations that she had TO ACCLIMATE TO ).

SHE FROWNS, FRUSTRATED that she was being benched and disallowed from pushing herself ahead. she was naught wrong in saying that count fortemps had high views of her - by no small part haurchefant's hands being ALL OVER IT.

< I . . FAIR. > her hands still as one hand came up to rub at her face in quiet frustration - again, if she got up and moved around silently gauging most of ishgard she DOUBTED much would come out of it. some talk perhaps but . . surely NOTHING DAMAGING POLITICALLY, right ?

( THOUGH, MAYBE THAT was why irina was so steadfast in KEEPING her here. )

TATARU'S STORIES DID find a lacking of the ( so called ) charming behaviour in the elezen to be a little confusing but, she guessed, it could be due to the reasoning of being rather " new " to the organization. just because she had accomplishments under her armor did not necessarily mean that she was going to be looked at fondly. her ears twitch backward some at the subtle mention of those they had likely lost ; expression changing out of full view. her gaze rose once more 'pon ZARINA SPEAKING FURTHER.

< I UNDERSTAND. WHEN should i expect you ? or is . . is it whenever and i should expect you anytime ? > she needs some clarity on this. HOW SHE WORKS.

[cinnabun-faerie]

The ending of 6.1, except Vrtra only has ONE room available for Estinien and WOL.

A/N: One room you say 😏😏 so one bed probably 😈 this gives me a great opportunity heh heh heh 😈

Warning: None, just cuteness

Alright so Varshahn does tell you both that he has does indeed have a few rooms prepared

Y'shtola thanks Varshahn immediately before smirking and giving you a wink

and of course, she heads away before you say anything

she knows that you have a thing for Estinien

"It seems that the two of you are sharing a room."

Estinien doesn't seem to react but really he's panicking on the inside

not only can Y'shtola and Varshahn/Vrtra see right through him and see that he's head-over-heels for you, but so can everyone else

except you

honestly you two can't see how in love both of you are for each other

"I suggest we go up to the room and rest."

"Yes, let's. Do you have the key, Estinien?"

"I thought you had it."

"No-"

that would be when Varshahn would had the key to you, who would pass it to Estinien

and with that, you would follow him to your room

once in there, you see that it's pretty nice

it even had a nice view

but there's one thing that has both of you absolutely floored

there's only one bed

"You can have the bed. I am fine with the floor."

"No, Estinien. You are going to sleep in the bed."

"With you?"

your brain just malfunctions

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Are you suggesting that I sleep in the bed with you?"

"Yes! Uh. I mean, yes. There's enough room for both of us."

when it's time for bed, you're writing a letter to Alphinaud and Alisaie while Estinien goes off to get some snacks for you both

you didn't even realize that he's already brought the snacks but hurried out again

but when he comes back, you hear the door slam

you jump and look over only to almost faint

Estinien is standing there dripping wet in only a towel

his eyes are wide as he was hoping to not disturb you

you have to practically grab your own face to turn away as your face turns red

holy hells he's so hot

"You didn't eat any of the snacks I brought. If you were waiting for me, I am sorry for making you wait."

eh? snacks?

oh

those snacks that are of course very obviously sat on the next beside your parchment and ink

"Thanks."

and so you eat some of the snacks as you finish up the letters and join him in bed, just too tired

"Are you going to sleep in your gear?"

"Oh. Right."

and so you start to strip off your gear to slip on your pyjamas

he cleared his throat and rolled over, forgetting that his snack bowl was on him and has to catch it mid-fall so it doesn't spill

he places it on the floor a bit away so he doesn't step on it when he gets up in the morning

"Goodnight Estinien."

"Goodnight Y/N."

in the morning, you find that you're cuddled close to Estinien

your head is resting on his chest and his hands are wrapped around you

you're wondering how you two managed to get so close when you know you were both sleeping on the farthest sides of the bed

but you don't hate it

this is a dream

are you sure you're even awake?

you are very sure when you pinch yourself

and your "Ow!" is what causes him to stir

and you can feel the rumble in his chest as he speaks

"You're awake."

"Hi."

when he opens his eyes, he smiles sleepily at you

he just looks at you with such love and admiration

"You're so beautiful."

at this point, he is sure that he is still dreaming

you're not, but your heart is soaring right now

but you don't realize he's still in his dream, nor does he know that his dream has become a reality

"You think I'm beautiful?"

"Of course."

you have the biggest smile on your face when he says it

you brush the hair out of his face and he gently holds your wrist

he's never had a dream version of you reach out and touch him to where it felt so real before

"Tell me I'm dreaming."

"You're not dreaming. This is all real."

"If this is real, then you don't feel anything for me?"

"Who said that?"

"Please indulge me."

"If I must. Estinien, I like you. More than a friend."

he would have the biggest smile on his face as he would pull you closer to him

"If it is not obvious by now, I have deep feelings for you. Perhaps you'd allow me to court you."

[driftward]

Title: FFXIV Write 2022 - 17. Novel Characters: Estinien Varlineau, Y'shtola Rhul, G'raha Tia, Zoissette Vauban Rating: Teen Summary: Estinien's never seen this bullshit before. Notes: None

It had been G'raha's idea.

Estinien and Zoissette had been going over the tactical capabilities and resources available to the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. As a former member of the Knights Dragoon, she trusted his insight. In turn, he trusted her. He trusted all of them, he supposed, if he had to, and he certainly owed them much. The Krile woman was a menace, to be certain, but Alphinaud was as like unto another brother, and Zoissette had proven a fine leader, time and time again.

They had been discussing the differences in capabilities at their disposal when G'raha had interrupted their discussion with a question about, in his words, what would happen if might met magic. That Estinien was the group's foremost master of martial prowess was in little doubt, outside of those with Hydaelyn's blessing. And though many of the Scions boasted impressive pedigrees in magical capability, ultimately G'raha had decided that Y'shtola's combat prowess exceeded his own, and in fact, that of the rest of the group.

"It has long been an open question," G'raha had said thoughtfully, "As to which would best the other in a fair match on the battlefield. Whether a mage could hold their own without proper support, or if a soldier could prevail in the face of magical might. Given that, I wonder who betwixt our ser Estinien and Archon Y'shtola would prevail."

Estinien had shrugged at the time. "Impressive though her powers may be, I have faced dragons, who boast no minor magics of their own, as well as being powerful fighters in their own right. I would not wish to face her on the field, but were I to do so, I have little doubt as to the outcome."

Zoissette had merely raised her eyebrows at him from across the table, and he was surprised to hear a voice from behind him. "Care to put that to the test, Ser Estinien?" the woman in question had asked.

And so they had wound up here, in a training circle that was entirely too clean for Estinien's liking. He did not wish to imagine the difficulty that the staff would have in cleaning the stonework floor or how often it needed repaired. The training areas in Ishgard had been rather more practical, often just circles drawn on natural ground, with stone walls around the outside to protect those who would come to observe. He had been assured, however, that the Sharlayan arena was suited for the purpose they sought, and anyway, had been explicitly designed with protection magics and other safeguards to ensure that the combatants were at less risk of hurting each other.

His armor slid on, the final panels clicking into place with a flex of his fingers as he took his spot. On the far side of the field, he saw Y'shtola stride confidently to her position, and watched as she brought her staff to bear.

G'raha stood in the middle of the field. He looked a bit abashed at having been the cause of the dispute, but had gamely accepted his position of referee. Off to the side, Zoissette had elected to be an observer, and she leaned against a wall, arms crossed. When she noticed she had caught Estinien's gaze, she offered him a small smile and a shrug, and mouthed 'sorry' at him.

Well, no matter. This contest would be over quick enough, he was certain.

"Alright," said G'raha, raising a hand. "The arena is designed to keep you whole and hale as best it's able, while at the same time allowing you to bring your might to bear. Having said that, this is no blood sport, but a practice arena. Myself and ser Vauban shall be watching closely. If we think either combatant has sustained injuries beyond that of the arena to bear, we shall end the contest. Either fighter may yield at any time, simply take a knee and utter the word, and the wards shall fetter both of you until you quit the field or someone pulls you free. Likewise, either of us can trigger the wards at any time. This contest shall go until a fighter is clearly incapacitated in some manner. Are there any questions?"

"I am well familiar with the workings of this place and have no questions," said Y'shtola.

"Nothing from me," said Estinien, pulling his lance off his back with a flourish and brandishing it. "Let's get on with it."

"Very well then," said G'raha. He looked between the two fighters, and then he brought his hand down at the same time he ran for the edge of the field. "Begin."

Estinien was immediately in motion, which was well, as Y'shtola was quick to snap a boulder into existence and fling it at where he had been. He stayed on the ground at first, quickly closing the distance, and thrusting with his spear at her location. She was fast on her feet, quickly dodging backwards, and so it went between the two for some while, each one probing the other's defenses with carefully considered attacks.

Estinien measured himself. He knew his was a canny opponent, and he wished to be careful to not show his hand too soon. Rather than the methods of the Knights Dragoon, he stuck to the tactics of the more common lancers, keeping his stance wide and low through a variety of sweeps and thrusts. Likewise, Y'shtola was measuring herself, he could tell. He had to swat the occasional stone out of the air, or plant himself low to the ground to avoid a gust of razor wind, but otherwise, she was not yet pulling on those more dangerous elements of fire and lightning just yet.

She was fast, but he was faster. She was breathing hard, trying to avoid his attacks, but he felt like he was just getting started. He began to switch up his tactics, sending aetheric copies of his lance through the air at her, or throwing his entire body into snapping it at her, only to call it back with a whisper. The gaps between her movements and his attacks narrowed, until at last he managed to score a hit he thought was decisive. She cried out as his lance scored her leg, and he bellowed in triumph. He did not take long to press his advantage, immediately proceeding to rapidly try several stabs at her in succession, hoping to win a decisive victory.

She was not so easily stymied, however, and he felt the jolt of levin energy throughout his entire body as she at last switched to her more dangerous tools. Still, that was not enough to dissuade him, and he closed in with her once more, and at last allowing the dragon within him to awaken as he took to the sky.

Now he was in his element. His prey was wounded, and it was her blood on the floor, not his. He was not so foolish as to rush in, for he knew there were few things more dangerous than injured prey. Especially prey that normally thought of itself as predator. He snarled as he let the energy overtake him, however, and he rained spear blows down upon the firmament.

Y'shtola, despite her injury, was still light on her feet, the agile Miqo'te dancing in the metal rain he was attempting to pour down upon her. He dove down at last after his charges, and it was only intercession by a fireball from Y'shtola diverting his course that saved her from what would have been, though not lethal, a decidedly painful end to their contest. He lept up into the air once more quickly, and she harried him with levin bolts. He twisted and flew away from many of them, taking a hit, but ignoring it.

The dragon was not hurt so easily. Certainly not in a way that would matter.

He landed, and looked across the battlefield at his opponent. Blood flowed from her forehead and onto her face, and she was favoring one leg rather heavily. The other in his estimate would refuse to support her weight if she tested it. And she was holding a hand to her side. He lowered his nose to glower at her. Lightning still tickled in his veins, and he could still feel residual heat from the fireball of hers that had landed. He had scored more hits, but her fireballs had the potential to hit harder than many of his attacks, and had done so.

Well.

She was not the only one with puissant powers at her disposal.

"I tire of this contest!" he bellowed, holding his lance with both hands in front of him as he arched his back and screamed at the sky. "Nidhogg, to me!"

He kept into the air, and a serpentine form began to form around him, encircling him. He watched her on the ground bring her hands together, almost seeming to pray, but he knew the motion well, recognized the smell of the aether. She was going to attempt one of her powerful shield spells.

Well, it would avail her not. The dragon fire dive was more than up the challenge of piercing the veil of said shield, and the impact would be sure to take her out of the fight. He twisted in midair, and pointed his lance at her, as the energy of the dragon almost fully formed around him in the form of a sinewy aetheric serpent.

He focused, drawing in the energy he would need for his attack. He would wait for her shield to form, however, and then he would finish her.

Instead of throwing her hands out to the side as he expected, however, she threw her hand out towards him, palm facing him, and his world went white. At the same time, he felt the aether that had been flowing into him arrest itself, and he felt his jaw go slack as he felt as though he was no longer fighting from the air, but rather was suspended in it by strings that were no longer fully his to control.

She had placed the shield around him, rather than around herself. And she was somehow tapping into the aether around him to starve him of it and feed the shield instead.

"Huh," he said. "That's novel."

He could break out of it, of course, he only needed a moment, but as he looked down at her from his place up high, he saw her give him an exaggerated wink, and the hand she was holding up curled up into a fist, and then pointed a single finger down.

He slammed into the floor of the arena hard enough to see stars, and it took him several long moments to realize he was now gasping for breath. He was no stranger to long falls from tall heights, but this one had been rather more forceful and sudden than he was used to. And not at all under his control, at that. He looked around, and realised that he had left a crater from the force of his impact.

Well, no matter. The contest was not yet over. He would quickly find his way to his feet, and be upon the woman in mere mom-

He frowned as he noticed the area suddenly growing dark as a shadow fell upon him.

He looked up just in time to see the boulder coming down.

He was slammed into the ground again. Twice in as many moments. This time his head full swam, and then suddenly it was clear again.

He sat on top of the smooth, flat ground. The crater he had been in was gone, but the stoneworks that made up the floor were shimmering slightly as restorative magics worked. He felt pain and injury and weariness slip away from his bones as he got back up to his feet.

Across from him walking over was Y'shtola, and he saw that she too was restored, her hips swaying with her usual confident swagger, and her face no longer marred by blood and injury.

"That's match," declared G'raha, walking over to Estinien. From the other side, Zoissette approached as well, and she gave Estinien a wane smile.

Estinien for his part crossed his arms at Y'shtola as she approached. "I do not think that trick will work for you twice," he said. "But I must concede. Well played, Archon Y'shtola."

Y'shtola smiled up at him. "Whether it would work again is a matter of academic debate I think, ser Estinien. In either case, it worked the one time. But it was a good match, and I recognize your considerable strength and tactical acumen. I am ever glad to be your ally on the battlefield."

Estinien grunted, and then gave her a bow, which she returned with one of her own before turning to Zoissette. "I do hope you placed your bets accordingly."

Zoissette rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "You know I didn't. Conflict of interest."

"More's the pity."

"Perhaps we can try this contest again sometime," said Estinien. "I quite enjoy the challenge. And I think even if your little trick did work again, I would have needed only another moment to free myself of it."

"I of course encourage you to determine methods of countering my stratagems," said Y'shtola. "But do not think me so likely to grant you that moment you wish, when the time comes."

Estinien smirked. "No. Of course not."

"Well, then, glad to see the matter is settled," said G'raha, rubbing his arm and smiling sheepishly at the group. "But I'm hungry from just having watched you two. Perhaps the winner would be gracious enough to host us at the Last Stand this day?"

"That venue has an appropriate name this day, I think," said Y'shtola. "But I rather think the person whose idea this was should be the one to play host, wouldn't you agree, G'raha Tia?"

G'raha's shoulders slumped in defeat, and Zoissette lightly patted him on the shoulder as she walked past him to the exit, walking alongside Y'shtola. Estinien walked alongside them, and they began to talk over the fight that had just transpired, while G'raha quickly ran behind them to keep up as they headed out.

[autumnslance]

Ever thought about what Thancred's reaction to Aeryn nearly dying after the fight with Endsinger and Zenos or maybe his reaction after she awoke when he is solely with Aeryn alone when they returned? This idea has latched onto my mind and my WoLxThancred love, I know when we see him with the Scions he's all stoic and calm but I bet inside if paired with the WoL, he must be in agony. I wondered what your take on that idea would be like?

Aeryn’s very sensitive Echo (she understands Meteion way too well, but when Aeryn’s Echo woke she had life experiences and maturity bird daughter didn’t) means Aeryn can sense everyone’s fear and grief—especially Thancred’s—keenly, even if outwardly he’s doing his Stoic Dad Act. Also everyone’s relieved frustration when she does wake and asks “Everyone else all right?” In an attempt to be jokey cuz Ow.

She does briefly, waveringly, stand with Alphinaud and Urianger’s help to see them arrive home, and breaks down herself into happy tears, cuz all Aeryn wanted after defeating/saving Meteion was to Go Home. To be with her Scion family. Maybe it was her fervent wish to live for that, while laying in a realm of pure dynamis, with a foot crossing the threshold of death’s door that brought the beacon to teleport her back to them.

So Aeryn’s a sobbing wreck as they do the victory flyby, explaining to the Scions what happened during the battle with Endsinger and the last minute team up then fight with Zenos being why she’s so completely battered, and how this is all she wanted—to return to Etheirys with all of them. There’s a big group hug and then she has to be carried off the ship by Thancred. Krile’s distressed by that, but Aeryn assures her she did the right thing and now Zenos shouldn’t bother anyone ever again, hooray!

(Aeryn was seriously so Done with Zenos; not even scared anymore, just…Done, which is the reason she agreed to the combat; he’d never stop otherwise, and it was the best time and place to be rid of him, with no one else at risk with both of them cutting loose).

Thancred is initially reluctant to hand off Aeryn to the arriving healers (he can totally carry her there himself it’s fine…) until Y’shtola and G’raha gently chide, and even then Thancred doesn’t leave her side as she’s taken into care, and then her room at the Annex to rest.

While others are present, Thancred and Aeryn gently tease each other about each trying to sacrifice themselves to save everyone else—him at the arrival at Ultima Thule and her at the end—but when alone finally, the walls come down, he starts to tell her how devastated he felt, and when she tries to spare him by reminding him that she already knows, he says “Let me say it out loud” which surprises her (and would make her swoon if she wasn’t already flat on her back in eight kinds of pain). More tears and an emotionally cathartic conversation I’m not sure how to write the dialogue for (yet) ensues. He has, after all, gotten better about opening up, but it’s still a difficult thing, especially for something this affecting.

The others get to tease him later for being a hovering mother bird (“Father bird, thank you very much,” which makes Urianger laugh for Reasons) as he nurses and waits on Aeryn as she recovers. Varshahn, at Tataru’s suggestion, has Aeryn’s stepfamily brought to Sharlayan to see and help tend to Aeryn and make Thancred get some damned rest too (He cannot fight Rashae and The Grandmothers, nor the nieces and nephews doing their part to distract).

So uh. Yeah, I’ve given it some thoughts. 😉 Whether I will get to writing it into a story or not we shall see. I have so many thing to write and not the time or focus/energy to do it! 😅

[potassium-pilot]

Prompt 14: Commend

“Uh…hey there, Haurchefant. You’re not mad, right?”

The Lord Commander told her how it took six knights to wrestle him back to his post, keep him from rushing to her side in the face of Shiva. He certainly looked as though he fought off a small militia, what with the ragged hair and the small bruises on his cheeks.

His arms were folded. A stern look fell over his face. This was not a happy man.

“What were you thinking, Dia?!” he exclaimed. This took her aback. For as long as she’d known him, he’d been quite polite, always using a gentle tone of voice with her. To hear him scold her so was…different, to say the least.

“Wagering your very being on a dubious theory which might allow you to enter Iceheart’s lair- knowing full well that she could have sufficient forewarning to complete her ritual to summon Shiva, anyway…? And then- And then- engaging the abomination in mortal combat?!”

“…Chief, that’s a morning warm-up for me.”

“By the Fury, Dia!” He was in no mood for her cavalier attitude towards her heroic actions. “‘Tis the stuff of ballads! A battle for the ages!” He slammed a fist on his desk and continued, “Would that I could have been there to fight by your side!”

“Haurchefant, you would have been tempered!”

“Yet, here I was, forced to wait- condemned to wonder at the fate of a dear friend for a veritable eternity! I would not wish such torture on my most hated enemy…”

The tension on his shoulders started to release, the fire in his words began to dim, and whatever appearance of civility he could muster returned. He let out a long sigh as if to release the anger through his breath, and said while attempting to sound calm, “…but you are here now, and that is what truly matters…”

“Chief…do you need a hug?”

He shot a devastating glare at her, making Alphinaud leave the room before the tempers would flare. “I’m serious!” she assured, “I wish I could have told you that I was going, but the moment sort of just…came together perfectly. Time was of the essence.” He shook his head. “I know. But truly, no reinforcements, Dia?! None whatsoever?!”

“Unless you have another fighter who can resist tempering, it’s hard to ask that of someone.”

“Ser Aymeric couldn’t even think of a contingency plan, should you have fallen?!”

Dia felt the crease of the missive from him in her pocket. She took it from the Temple Knight, who attempted to read it aloud for her, after pointing out to him, “I can read, you know”, and read it through silently before entering the amphitheatre.

“That’s the Scions’ job.”

“Well, what is their contingency plan should you have been mortally wounded? Is there a batallion of blessed champions that secretly lies in wait in the Rising Stones?” he questioned sarcastically.

“No, there isn’t.”

“Then how do they ensure your safety? Surely, they understand that if you go, so too does the future of the realm.”

She hesitated, feeling incredibly obstinate in the face of his challenges, but was ultimately forced to concede to that one with an “I don’t know.”

“There’s nothing that they do to make sure that the Savior of Eorzea can continue to save Eorzea?”

“There’s nothing they can do, I just go in and do what needs to be done.”

“But why?” he asked incredulously, “What good does it do for anyone to leave you as the only one capable of defeating these monstrosities?”

“I don’t know, Haurchefant! Okay?! I don’t know! But I am the only one, and there’s nothing that can be done to change that!” She reached the end of her rope with an argument that should have ended before it even began when she opened her mouth. It was his turn to express shock, his eyes widened and his eyebrows raised. His usually calm and collected dear friend, quick with a joke and happy to help, has put in place an impenetrable defense. She revealed a crack, however, when she took a breath and admitted, “A break would be nice.”

The two of them took a deep breath together to release the tension at the same time.

“What do you acquire from doing this, my friend?” he asked calmly, carefully tiptoeing about the topic to ensure they don’t fall back into hostility. She kept her cool and answered with a soft smile, “Adventure.” She let out a dharp breath from her nose. “I wish I knew why, but…there was always something about exploration that drew me. I love journeying into the unknown, I love seeking new paths…but sometimes, it’s nice to rest and know my surroundings.”

Haurchefant hummed in a tone that indicated both satisfaction and curiosity. “‘Tis interesting to hear your prerogative, Dia. Many take adventurers to be self-serving, glory-seeking ignoramuses.”

“That’s because a solid majority of them are just that.” She shook her head at the notion. “Glory feels rather hollow when you’ve seen just where it lands you. No, I’m an adventurer because there’s much to see and do…but I think I’ve seen enough for a while.”

He flashed his winning smile and assured, “None deserve respite more than you, my friend. Take heart, and enjoy what you have accomplished for now. I apologize if my venting of my anxieties have dampened your victory.”

She returned the smile and replied, “No, it didn’t. Call me weird, but…there’s something refreshing about someone close reminding me that what I do could kill me. Everyone always seems so sure that I’ll emerge victorious.”

‘Was there every any doubt that the Warrior of Light would succeed’, Alphinaud’s words rang in her head.

“There is never a guarantee in battle. I feel young Alphinaud should learn such a concept if he is to lead men.” Haurchefant shook his head and sat back in his chair. “You are indeed blessed as Hydaelyn’s champion, but you remain mortal, with limits. You have escaped the impossible on more than one occasion, but nothing that you’ve survived was incapable of killing you. I would much rather know that if you were in danger, that someone, preferably myself, would be there to do everything they could to protect you.”

She stared to the floor. “You very much are a knight, Chief. You couldn’t have protected me from Shiva.”

“Perhaps not, but it would be remiss of me not to try.” Haurchefant snapped back into reality when he reminded himself of orders he received. “Ah, Ser Aymeric wished to have words with you and Master Alphinaud in private. He awaits us in the Intercessory.”

“Ughhhh, do I have to?”

Haurchefant replied to her groans with laughter in his voice, “Is there something wrong with the notion?”

“I already had to accompany him back to Camp Dragonhead. If he needed to exchange words with me, he could have done so from Whitebrim, but we barely said a word to each other. We didn’t even look at each other. I don’t get it- I saved his people from a primal. Did I do something wrong here?”

Haurchefant knew exactly why the Lord Commander would do such a thing. A conference with the Warrior of Light was one thing, but a personal interaction? No work or other business to buffer? And with such a stoic hero (or so she pretends to be), seemingly larger than life? The man was probably a puddle.

“Perhaps he just wanted Master Alphinaud there to say these words to as well. Pray, go on ahead without me, Dia. Another matter requires my attention, but I shall join you anon.”

“Fine, but hurry up. I don’t want another awkward silence, especially if Alphinaud tries to harangue him into joining the Alliance again.”

“Halone be good, you must stop him if he tries again.”

“The kid’s tongue has a mind of it’s own, I swear. If he tries, maybe I’ll cast Repose on him.” Haurchefant laughed at what he hoped was a joke as she left the office to see for just what he requested privacy.

*************

Would Minfilia yell at me if I kicked Alphinaud in the head, Dia thought. For whatever genius he proclaims to be blessed with, subtlety consistently managed to escape his grasp. That in mind, she was more than a little relieved to understand fully the intention of their dealmakers. All they hid was a desire to keep the Garleans away, a desire she shared personally.

With that done, she followed the young Brave’s Commander out of the intercessory.

“Er, Dia, if I may have a moment…”

Or she would have, had Ser Aymeric not stopped her from doing so.

“I have no idea if there will ever be enough thanks for what you’ve done, but… I would like once more to say it: Thank you, Dia. Your risk was unimaginable, and that you were so willing to do it for a country you barely know… it’s astounding. While we owe the Scions much, to whom we’ll begin to repay by delivering supplies to Revenant’s Toll, I would also like to find some way to repay you personally. Mere words feel insufficient.”

Dia felt unsure what to make of the Lord Commander, but she appreciated the thought.

“Don’t worry about it”, she replied with a soft smile. She nodded to him and turned around to finally return to Revenant’s Toll.

Once she was out of the building, she retrieved the missive from her pocket, and re-read it once more to herself.

Inside the intercessory, Aymeric turned to Haurchefant with a question in mind that the lord of Camp Dragonhead could read with ease with the expression he wore on his face.

“Haurchefant, you’ve grown rather close with her, have you not?”

“As one should expect with one’s dear friends, yes. Why do you ask?” Haurchefant attempted to bury any hint of amusement.

“Have I insulted her? Has she said anything to you?”

He failed to hide it and released a closed-mouth chuckle.

“Ser Aymeric, she asked the same of you!”

His eyes widened in mortification, and his jaw dropped slightly. That he should be perceived as being insulted by someone like her, as if he had the nerve, felt unsettling.

“I…”

“She mentioned the return trip to Camp Dragonhead was… not the most pleasant of exchanges, to put it nicely. Now, Dia tends to do more than say, so it can be hard to interact; I cannot fault you for struggling to communicate. She does take some time to warm up, but with all due respect, Ser Aymeric, you must offer the hearth. I did so, and now, I couldn’t ask for a better friend and ally. You might find the same results, and clear up any misunderstandings, an important step if you truly wish to express personal gratitude.”

Aymeric kept his gaze to the floor. “Thank you for your candor, Haurchefant.” Soon after, he turned and exited the Intercessory alongside Lucia.

Haurchefant stayed behind to think. Perhaps it would be best to refrain from further intercession; ‘tis so amusing to watch Aymeric like this, he mused.

[efrmellifer]

Familial

Contains heavy amounts of dialogue from Friends Gathered, lvl89. Enjoy!

Estinien and Alphinaud were just leaving the Leveilleur Estate when they came across Etien on the steps.

“Oh? What brings you here?”

Etien blinked, unsure how to say it now, when she had been told very explicitly by Alisaie not to speak a word of her little nap in the gazebo. But Krile had given some pertinent advice, though it was a little personal applied here…

“Among other things, Krile was saying that sleeping in beds of our own choosing would be a good way to get the best rest. So if you wanted to stay with your parents tonight, that would make perfect sense to me,” she began, playing with her bowstring behind her back, “and I could walk Estinien back to the Baldesion Annex. If that was something that appealed to you. I don’t know how easy it would be for you to stay overnight.”

“Ah, so you were worried that the Leveilleur household might again be gripped by turmoil.”

She nodded, a little concerned.

“All is well, I assure you.” At that, Etien let her shoulders relax. Alphinaud went on. “In my letters home, I had made mention of Estinien, you see. My mother wished to meet the legend in person, and so we arranged to have a spot of tea together.”

“Oh, Estinien,” Etien breathed. “Tea? You?”

He turned to her. “Where were you in my hour of need? Fell beasts I can face, but I’m not made for idle chitchat with lords and ladies.”

Etien drew her hands up, taking a step back. “I wish I could have been here for it,” she apologized. A smile came to her lips after a moment as she cooed, “but you never seem to have a problem with me and Aymeric.”

“Well, I for one thought you held your own,” Alphinaud piped up. “Mother was the picture of delight.”

Estinien let out a hmph to that. “I might have been delighted myself, were we in a tavern with more agreeable drink.”

Etien crinkled her nose, but said nothing, still listening.

“The thought of fleeing crossed my mind, but what then? I’d never hear the end of it—least of all from Tataru.”

“I’m sorry,” Alphinaud responded. “’Twas not my intent to cause you such distress.”

Etien came right up to Estinien’s side now, taking his hand. “I’m sorry too, for failing to be here.”

Alphinaud elaborated. “It’s just… it was one of the things I didn’t want to leave undone ere we set forth.” He sighed lightly. “That’s not to say I think we won’t be returning. Yet given what lies ahead, I did not wish to leave for later that which I could do today. After all, tomorrow is never promised.”

“It’s fine,” Estinien told him. “Not like I had better things to do. Besides… seeing you with your mother brought back fond memories of my own. Be we rich or poor, family is… family.”

They shared a smile, then Estinien turned to go, taking Etien along with a shake of their still-clasped hands. “Well, it’s past time we were on our way.”

Etien started to slow when she heard Alphinaud’s footsteps, but stopped and turned when he called “Wait!”.

“Yes, Alphinaud?”

“Since I left home, I’ve made a great many mistakes. Mistakes for which I can never make amends. But through it all, you didn’t give up on me.”

“Well, of course not,” Etien responded. “How could I have?”

“To have returned here, with you at my side… It means more to me than you know. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart.”

Etien had been smiling at Alphinaud, thinking about what sort of a young man her sort-of brother had become in the years they had known each other, but she looked up when Estinien sighed.

“Forgive me,” Alphinaud added, “but it needed to be said.”

“I’m the one who owes you thanks,” Estinien began. “Were it not for you, I would not be alive today, nor come to terms with Nidhogg’s spirit. I am ever grateful.”

Etien attempted to thank them both as well, they said their goodbyes, and Etien and Estinien made their way down the path. He pulled her closer as they both started to realize the temperature had dropped, now that they were further from the house.

“Was it… nice to be reminded of your family?” Etien asked as they wandered, clearly not heading for the annex.

“It was. Having pleasant memories brought to mind rather than the painful ones I had been recalling for so long.” A soft hum, then.

“Hmm?” Etien echoed.

“Mayhap it was better you weren’t with us, as much as you could have drunk my tea for me and handled the conversation.”

She tilted her head. “Why’s that?”

“I wouldn’t want you to be reminded of your family in a way that hurt.”

For a moment, she stopped walking, but remembering how much longer his legs were, she picked up again right away. “I suppose so.”

They stopped at the harbor when they reached it, looking out at the ocean. And there, Etien started talking.

“Ameliance doesn’t remind me of my mother, really. Well, in some ways they’re similar. But Mum’s a touch older, and like you, I didn’t have money the way the Leveilleurs do.”

“Can you tell me a little?”

She took a deep breath, then nodded. “My da is an alchemist. Mum did a lot of things before having us. Picked up a few of them again when we grew up a bit. When I could watch M’ertle and M’ynstrel. I was the oldest, after all. Alisaie and Alphinaud remind me of them, so I guess it’s only natural I’d treat them like my siblings.”

“...you were the oldest?”

She shrugged. “Other than the child prodigies, I’m the youngest Scion. So I’m not really ‘the oldest’ anymore.”

“Hmm. That must feel odd.”

“I still feel like an oldest sister a lot of the time, always doing little errands.” She yawned. “But I guess being around the twins kind of reminds me of my family most of the time.”

“And is it nice?” Estinien repeated back to her.

“Sometimes. Sometimes it reminds me of everything I ended up leaving behind.”

“Come on, we should get to bed. One bed, since that was what you were trying to ask when you turned up, wasn’t it?”

Blushing, Etien nodded.

“Mine or yours?”

“Well, people might see us either way, so I don’t know if--”

He tucked her under his arm to carry. “Fine. Pretend you’re already asleep, then. We can go to your room. I have no qualms about telling them I was getting you settled and trying not to wake you, so I stayed.”

She tried to quell the burning of her cheeks and hung limp, trusting in Estinien’s hold.

“Good girl,” he remarked, chuckling while he tried to hold onto her now-rigid form.

“You’re not making it easier for me to relax,” Etien bleated.

“Consider it me sharing how I felt to squirm while Alphinaud’s mother looked at me and I was tongue-tied.”

Before they got to the Baldesion Annex, he cradled her against him, one arm across her back that he would use to knock on the door, the other underneath her.

“She fell asleep,” he explained when Krile opened up. “Is there a spare key, so I don’t have to dig through her bag?”

When they got in, he laid her on the bed. “Thank you for behaving. I half-expected to be bitten.”

She scooted across the bed, carefully taking off her gear as she went and beckoning Estinien into the bed with her. With an affectionate shake of the head, he toed out of his boots and took off his shirt, then got under the covers beside her.

“Goodnight, Estinien,” she murmured, punctuated with a little kiss. “I love you.”

He returned the kiss, and this time resolved he would not be out the window—at all, but certainly not before she heard him say, “I love you too.”

[thebmatt]

FFXIV Write 2021 Prompt #10: Heady

Heady – (of liquor) potent; intoxicating. -OR- willful or rash

Note - This takes place during the finale of 5.0, after the little kid asks if the player is the Warrior of Darkness, but before the Scions gather in the Ocular and send the Warrior back to the Source. The Crystarium is throwing a giant party to celebrate their victory.

Rheika was being subjected to another round of hearty toasting. She’d had a few to drink, but she knew her tolerance well enough to know that she was slightly tipsy and planned not to go any further than she already was. With every toast she pretended to drink, and so far no one had noticed. She wanted to be mostly clear-headed for what had to happen next.

She spotted Thancred approaching the bar and waved him over. The assembled patrons then began toasting his virtues as well, but he managed to weave past them all to get to her.

“Enjoying the festivities in your honor?” he teased.

“Uugggh. Ordinarily I only want this much attention when I’m performing, but these people won’t even let me get a word in to start a performance! It’s a never ending stream of ‘thank-yous’ or ‘bless-yous’ or people asking me to bless them!” she replied, tossing her hands in the air in frustration.

“I notice you’re not partaking much” Thancred pointed out, glancing towards her still-half full tankard.

She scoffed. Of course, he’d notice. He’d probably been keeping an eye on her all night. This newfound protector role he’d adopted suited him well, she decided. It was also kind of, okay really sexy…

No, down, girl. Things to do. “Not yet. Can you gather everyone in the Ocular? The Scions, I mean. And the Exarch. Ryne, too, but I counted her in the Scions, but I didn’t know if you would, so…yeah her too.”

He chuckled. “Give me a little bit and I’ll send them all that way.”

“Thanks, Thancred. Meet you there.”

Reaching into her pouch, she palmed one of her smoke pellets.

A short time later, Thancred led the others into the Ocular. Rheika was already present, wearing the armor she wore as a Shinobi. Her daggers sat her side, and she smelled faintly of the smoke they knew she used to distract opponents so she could hide. She stood in front of the portal that led back to the source, the Exarch’s usual spot when he addressed them all

Everyone, almost by instinct, fanned out in a semi-circle around her.

“Thanks for coming, everyone. I wanted to get you all together before the night got any later. I’ve…I’ve got things I need to say to each of you. Stuff that I didn’t want to wait until the morning. Hell, most of it I didn’t want to even wait until now but…well we’ve been a bit busy.”

All of them nodded, waiting for her to continue.

Rheika walked up to Ryne and embraced her. When they finally separated, she kept her hands on her shoulders, looking her in the eyes, a wide smile on her face.

“Ryne, I love you. I know you had to accept a lot, being the Oracle, but you’ve never wavered in wanting to help, and you saved my life a bunch. I’m so thankful for you and we are gonna spend a lot of time becoming friends, okay?”

Ryne had tears streaming down her face, but she hugged Rheika again. “I can’t wait!”

Rheika let her go and walked over to Alphinaud. She ruffled his hair. “You, sir, used to be an insufferable twerp when I first met you.”

Everyone chuckled, even Alphinaud.

Rheika continued. “I said ‘used to’ and I absolutely mean it. You aren’t that kid and you haven’t been for a very long time. “

She bent down and put her hands around his shoulders. “You’ve had many more successes than you have failures, and they’ve been much more far-reaching. I want you to stop living in the shadow of your mistakes and live for your successes, past and future. Can you do that for me?”

Alphinaud sniffed and wiped a single tear from his eye. “I can. Thank you.”

She nodded, then walked to Alisaie. She also got a hug, but Rheika did not let go when she spoke to her, merely loosened her hold a little. “You’re so amazing, you know that? Trust me, I know Red Magic, and you’re utterly fantastic, and you’ve got a lot more growing to do, so just imagine how much more amazing you’re going to be. Tesleen was not your fault. Please don’t let guilt over her consume you. You have far too much life left to be eaten up by it, okay?”

Alisaie just hugs back harder, choking a sob. “Okay”, she says through her tears. “I’ll try”.

Rheika releases the hug and kisses her forehead. “All I ask, sweetie.”

She lets her go and looks over to Y’shtola, who has been smiling at the outpouring of love from the Warrior of Darkness. That smile fades when she sees that Rheika’s expression is no longer happy.

She looked upset.

Rheika approaches her, arms crossed. “I know you weren’t part of the deception. But you still held things from me. I know it wasn’t long before you did say something, but it hurt that you delayed even that long.

Y’shtola started to respond, then looked away, shame on her visage. “No, I will not defend my actions. You are right. I should not have. You are my friend, one of my dearest, and I treated you as a puzzle to be solved. Never again.”

Her eyes found Rheika again. “I am truly sorry for the pain I caused you, Rheika.”

Rheika smiled and reached forward to hug her. “Accepted and forgiven, Shtola.”

She grinned. “Oh, and do you recall what you promised me the night before we set out for Eulmore? Feel free to make good on that whenever you like!”

Y’shtola arched her eyebrows in confusion, then they shot up as her eyes went ride and she turned crimson. She quickly looked down, hoping no one noticed.

Everyone did, though no one had any idea what Rheika was talking about.

She walked over to Thancred, giving him a cool smile. “You know what I’m going to say?”

He gave a half smile. “I presume you’re going to chastise me for the way I acted these past few years, the way I treated Ryne.”

“And everyone else, too. You hurt more than you realize when you lash out rather than talk about your hurts, Thancred. We all realize how much we rely on you, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t able to have you rely on us when you need it, when you’re the one hurting. No more forgetting that, you understand?”

“I won’t forget anymore, Rheika. I promise” he says, solemnly.

“Good.” She gave him a quick seductive wink. “Remember what you lose when you do, pretty boy”

He also blushed and prayed Ryne didn’t notice. She did, but she wasn’t sure why he was.

Rheika then turned to Urianger. He noted with some distress that her expression had chilled to anger, and he closed his eyes and bowed his head.

She stopped in front of him. “This is twice now you’ve played a game without informing the rest of us that’s gotten people hurt, Urianger. First there was that double-dealing with Ardbert’s crew that got Alisaie poisoned by Renda-Rae, now this. So I’m going to ask you one more time; are you going to honor the promise you made before we dove into the Tempest? ‘No further secrets?’

“Aye, milady. No more. Mine strategizing alone hath proven a bane upon someone too many a time, and I wilt allow no persuasions of any kind, be they mine or elsewhere, to deter me from this.”

“Good. You’re not BAD at this, Uri, but as brilliant as you are, no one can see every angle. The best tacticians work in teams, so that others might see circumstances that we miss. You’re surrounded by some of the smartest people on two stars, don’t forget that. I forgive you, by the way. I don’t remember if I said that already.”

“My thanks, Rheika.”

She smirks at him. “However, you DO owe me, so here’s how you’re gonna pay me back. When we get you all home, you are absolutely not allowed to hide away under that hooded robe ever again. In fact, I hereby ban you from wearing anything with sleeves. Those arms deserve to be seen.”

Urianger looked at his arms, confused. The other Scions chuckled, with Thancred throwing in a “Hear, hear!” for good measure.

She leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “And we can talk later about whether or not you’d like to show me the rest of those muscles later. If you want.”

She pulled back and gave him a friendly innocent smile. Urianger, to his credit, managed to hide his blush short of some faint rosiness in his cheeks.

Rheika turned to the Exarch and frowned. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled.

When she re-opened her eyes, the others all took a step back. None of them had ever seen her this angry, a fury born of betrayal and pain.

“What’s coming next is not going to be pretty. If anyone wants to leave, I understand. No judgement. If you stay though…well, consider yourself warned.”

No one moved.

She panned back and forth to the others, then nodded. “All right, then.”

She stepped forward to G’raha and poked a finger at his chest. “You’ve talked a lot lately, G’raha Tia. You’ve always been gifted with a tongue of silver. But right now, I’m more than just a bit tired of it. So here’s how this is going to work. You are not allowed to speak until I’m done talking, unless I ask you a question directly. When you answer, you do so with one word. You say anything more than that, or take too long to choose your single word and I will put you on the floor. Am I clear??”

G’raha gulped, then said “Yes”. His voice was uneven. Scared, even.

Good, she thought.

“Did you think I didn’t know, G’raha Tia?”

He cocked his head in confusion. “Pardon?”

She turned and looked back to the portal. “Did you think I didn’t know that it was you under that hood?”

His head fell. “Hoped.”

She laughed. “If you didn’t want me to recognize you, you did a pretty piss-poor job of trying to disguise yourself. That hood didn’t always cover your eyes, you know. I glimpsed crimson under there, more than once. But even before that, did you think I wouldn’t recognize your voice?

He looked up, sadness on his face. “Years”

“NOT FOR ME!” she yelled, whirling on him. “Not for me. I knew, right away, that it was you. So many times you could have come clean, and you didn’t, so I never knew exactly how much to trust you. After all, why would my good friend G’raha Tia need to conceal himself and his intent from me?”

She paused, and begin pacing back and forth before him. Eventually she spoke again. “So why, Graha? Why lie to me?”

He swallowed. “Protect.”

She froze, then slowly panned towards his eyes, outrage practically pouring off of her. “I’m sorry, did you say ‘protect’? YOU DON’T HAVE THAT RIGHT” she yelled.

G’raha reeled, catching his balance on a backstepped foot, before righting himself and returning his gaze to her, looking pitiful.

She continued. “I am SICK to FUCKING DEATH of people deciding what’s best for me and still asking me to risk my life to save their homes or people or the planet. I, and I alone, have the right to decide what I need protecting from! Especially from people who are supposed to be my friends! Instead, your so-called protection put me through an absolute hell to deal with on my own!”

She gestures to the other Scions. “I love and cherish these people and without them I would never have stood a chance in this fight, but they are not the Warriors of Light! They don’t have the Echo, or the Blessing of Hydaelyn. Do you have any concept of how much easier this could have been if you had thought to summon more than one of us?”

G’raha suddenly looked very afraid. “Un…undefended!”

She noticed. “Oh, undefended, I see! You were thinking of the Source, you didn’t want to leave no Warriors of Light to defend it. Fine, I’ll accept that. But there’s four of us, G’raha.” She held up four fingers for emphasis. “You could have grabbed me and Dahkar, or Franks and Fearless, or me and Fearless. Any combination of two of us! But you didn’t. No no, you specifically targeted me. Don’t bother denying it, I’ve seen enough of your past to know this. So here’s the million-gil question, G’raha Tia. Why. Me?”

He closed his eyes, tears streaming down. He opened them again, crimson irises meeting green. “L-love.”

Leather first met his face before he could even blink, impacting his crystal covered cheek. He remembered crying out in pain, and then the next he was on the floor, grasping his jaw. He heard Ryne gasp, then Alphinaud say “That’s enough, Rheika!” He regained his equilibrium in time to see that Urianger is blocking Alphinaud from physically interceding.

“Master Alphinaud, if thou valuest thine health, I beseech thee, be silent. These feelings must needs be aired.”

He turned to see that Rheika has not stopped glaring at him. “What did we talk about that second night at the find, G’raha?”

He tested his jaw. Not broken, thankfully. The crystal didn’t appear to be cracked, either. He wondered if her first is all right, then quickly remembered he was on a timetable. “You.”

She nodded. “So you do remember. I knew you were interested in me, so I told you all about me. I’m not shy about it, after all. Do you remember what you said in reply. Don’t answer that, because I don’t want to hear it from you right now. You said you understood. So you already knew there would never, ever be anything but friendship between us when you locked yourself in this tower, and then you turn around and bring me across the rift, alone, and ask me to save both of these worlds because you think you’re in love with me?”

He had gotten back on his feet, but let her unleash all of her hurt, because he knew he had misjudged her greatly, and he deserved it. “Shame.” is the one word he could think to say.

“What exactly were you thinking would happen, G’raha? That some grand romantic gesture would break through the stone of my heart? Do you think you’re the first person to think that they’re the ‘right one i’ve been waiting all my life for’?”

“No…”

She crossed her arms in front of him. “No, you’re not. Dozens of others before you have tried, thinking I just needed ‘fixing’. You know what happened to them? They have it made very clear to them that they are not to speak with me anymore. Because I do NOT. NEED. FIXING. There isn’t a damn thing wrong with me. And you lied to my face when you said you understood that, just like they did. But your lie? That nearly cost me my life and two worlds worth of others.

G’raha silently sobbed, eyes closed but tears streaming down his face.

“Look at me”

He opened his eyes. She looked back at him, her face neutral.

“The only reasons I’m not going to do that to you are because despite all of that, you did bring hope to the people of that undone future. You built this city as a bastion of refuge and safety to the people of this realm. You protected them for a century. And despite your massive fucking screwup bringing me here alone and lying to me about it, when I truly needed them the most, you brought my brothers and sister across the rift to help me kill Emet-Selch.”

“That’s a lot of good to weigh against the bad of you lying to me and ignoring my wishes, G’raha. And I think you realized how futile your hope was a while back. Am I right about that?”

He nods. “Lakeland.”

“When we spoke alone after the Eaters invaded it you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Got it. So here’s what we’re gonna do, G’raha. You’re gonna figure out how to get the Scions home. Without killing yourself. You’re gonna keep taking care of this city. You’re gonna be one of the voices that helps guild this realm into a bright new future. You do all that, and this godsdamned time you remember what I told you, and maybe we can fix our friendship? Think you can do that?”

He nodded and smiled. “Yes.”

“Good.” She walked past him towards the Ocular’s exit. The others all watched her. “That was it, I’m done. I’ve been holding back drinking too much all evening so that I’d have a clear enough head to say all of that, so now that it’s over, I’m going to drink a lot more. If you all feel like joining me, can’t wait to see you there. If not, see you in the morning.”

She strode out of the Ocular. The twins soon followed, then after a few gazes between each other, the other Scions soon followed, until only G’raha Tia remained.

Despite everything he knew he’d done horribly wrong, he counted himself fiercely lucky that it hadn’t cost him everything. And he looked to the future with a renewed determination to continue repairing that which he’d damaged.

[baidar-oroq]

22-Argy-bargy

(Pearl Lane, Ul’dah, after “Where The Heart Is.”)

Baidar quickly came to discover that he was not made for cities. 

Certainly not cities like Ul’dah, where the days were hot and windy, dust coming from Thanalan on the summer breeze, the nights still humid. He was still a creature of the Steppe that he carried with him, after all, of the endless expanse under the stars, the horizon not blocked from view by buildings built of sandstone blocks, crowded against each other almost in desperation. The streets of Ul’dah were filled at almost every hour of the day with people, many of them, especially in Pearl Lane, living there, without homes, with seemingly no one to care for them. This puzzled Baidar, who had been raised to put the needs of all in the tribe first, especially since to him Ul’dah seemed to be a place of great wealth and power and doubtlessly could do more for its people than it did. He’d asked Alphinaud why this was so (only later learning just how sensitive the recent history of Ul’dah was to him, which prompted a much belated apology) and Alphinaud had spun a story of rich, powerful syndicates that refused to lift a hand to help the needy while also exploiting them. 

Baidar had digested what he’d learned, and asked, simply “Couldn’t I just go stop them? When an unjust ruler wins the Nadaam, the next year an alliance rises to overthrow them, choosing a winner to rule.” That this had led to the rule of the Oronir for the first time is something Baidar does not choose to mention. 

‘Would that it were so simple,” Alphinaud replied. 

To Baidar, it was that simple, but he allowed that challenging the Syndicate to a Nadaam would likely not be easy to arrange. 

However, while he was not made for cities, and certainly not Ul’dah, there had been a single advantage to it; namely an empty apartment in the building that Kage lived in, right next door in fact that became vacant a week or so after Alphinaud had introduced them. And if the two of them were going to be Scions together, there was a value in the two of them being close by. So Alphinaud, with the aid of Tataru, had secured Baidar the room, paying half a year’s rent in advance since Baidar had incurred sizable debt in acquiring his dragoon armor. So he settled into life in Ul’dah, with Kage as a neighbor, a friendship beginning to grow between them, albeit at first with reluctance on Kage’s part. There was a sadness to Kage, something that had played a part in why he had left the Steppe, that made opening up difficult for him.

Well, Baidar amended, opening up for people who he worked with. It seemed that Kage was capable of opening up enough to be able to bring miqo’te men home at night from the Quicksand, judging from the noises that came through the thin walls of the building on many nights. Baidar would stuff his pillow over his head on these occasions and try to sleep through it, or failing that, think pleasant and completely unlikely thoughts about Y’shtola Rhul. 

It was after one of these nights, in the mid-morning, that Baidar was awoken by the sound of shouting from the alley below, two voices raised in argument.

Baidar rolled out of bed, pulling his lance from the floor where he kept it, already alert, the instincts of a life of remaining alert at all times in case a rival tribe chose to attack the camp taking over. He looked around for a moment as if expecting someone to attack him from his...somewhat messy dresser, then heard a voice, a Roegadyn by the sound of, shouting. “You fucking cheated, you bastard! You know you did!”

“How the hells can someone cheat betting on the races at the Saucer?!” another voice, Hyur by all rights, replied. “I put down gil on the winner fair and square, you’re just a book who doesn’t want to cover!”

Other voices rose in a clamor, and Baidar sighed and made his way out of the building, grateful he’d chosen to just take his boots off before falling into bed. As he did, Kage appeared behind him, unarmed, a frown on his face. “Sounds a little violent out there.” He nodded at the lance. “Taking precautions?”

“Always be prepared,” he said with a smile as they stepped out into a bright, humid morning. “We’re Scions, aren’t we? Supposed to fight for justice and all that?” Kage scowled as they walked towards the alley, the arguing continuing. “This could turn violent, after all. You know Ul’dah. Plus, I’d like to get a little more sleep.”

“Dreaming of Y’shtola again?” Kage asked.

“Ha. Ha. Are you ever going to let me off the hook for how I acted when we met her?”

“Not any time soon.” 

The two Xaela rounded the corner into the alley and took in the scene. A crowd of around ten people surrounded a door into the neighboring building, where the Roegadyn stood, hands on his hips. In front of him was the Hyur, an extremely attractive Miqo’te lady dressed in barely notions on his arms. “I’m telling you, I don’t believe it,” the Roegadyn shouted. “You’re a fucking cheat, I know it. No one gets the first four right at the chocobo races! Not at those odds!”

“How the hells could I cheat? Bribe the riders to throw the race?” The hyur shook his head. “If I had that kind of money do you think I’d be betting down here on Pearl Lane?” The miqo’te on his arms pouted, and Baidar wondered just how much of the winnings were going to be spent on her. The crowd around them erupted in commentary, half of them seemingly taking the Roegadyn’s side, the other half the Hyur’s. 

“Not sure this is going to turn to violence,” Kage remarked.

“Not likely, but still.” Baidar coughed into his hand, then raised his voice and shouted “Gentlemen, ladies, what seems to be the bother?”

“Seems to be the bother?” Kage muttered. 

“Heard Alphinaud say it,” Baidar answered as the crowd collectively turned to look at him. “Thinking it might not have been well received.”

The Hyur sized the two of them up and seemed to quickly realize that there would be a certain value to having two large and exceptionally strong Xaela on his side in this disagreement. “This man owes me thirty thousand gil! He runs a gambling establishment here, and takes bets on the chocobo races at the Gold Saucer! I made a perfectly fair bet and he seeks to...to cheat me.”

“You’re the fuckin’ cheater! I ain’t covering that bet! No one’s ever done what you did!”

The crowd broke out into another round of argument, and Baidar was beginning to regret coming down here when, from above, a small boot flew down and struck the Roegadyn squarely between his eyes. “Ow! Godsdammit who threw that!” he roared.

A second boot flew down and crashed into the side of his head, staggering him. Baidar and Kage followed the path of both boots and found an open window on the side of their apartment building, where an ancient Lalafell woman stood. She was their landlady and owner of the building, Momoro Moro, and despite being nearly blind clearly had an uncanny aim. She hefted yet another shoe in her hand and yelled “Clumsy Boulder, what the hells is going on here?!”

The Roegadyn became noticeably pale.“Mrs. Moro! I...I apologize profusely. I didn't mean to disturb you.” The third shoe flew down and walloped him in his shoulder, drawing a yelp. 

“You should have thought of that before you started yelling. No idea why a sore loser ever thought he could run any kind of gambling. Pay the lad off and stop yelling about it before I make sure the wrong people hear about it.”

“Again, I am sorry, Mrs. Moro! It won’t happen.” He bowed deeply. “But, if I may, my name is not Clumsy…”

“Really think you should let this go,” Baidar said, walking up as the crowd began to disperse. “Hey, Mrs. M. Want me to bring up your shoes?”

“You fuckin’ better!” she shouted as she slammed her shutters closed.

“Justice is served, then?” Kage asked as the Roegadyn, who was probably going to be stuck with the name of Clumsy Boulder for a while, retreated into the neighboring building, presumably to collect the gambler’s winnings.

Baidar picked up the shoes, grinning. “Worth it just to see Mrs. M hurling shoes at people. Let’s go see her, then.” He might not be built for cities, and he did not, as yet, have a single idea why a clear criminal was terrified of Momoro Moro, but at times cities could prove entertaining.

(The oh so entertaining Momoro Moro is a creation of my partner in crime, @voidsharkffxiv, and she’s one of my favorite characters in our mutual RP. Fun to write Mrs. M!)

[deathflares]

» ffxivwrite day #20 — eccedentesiast

wolexarch, 1.3k words, mature.

[ao3 mirror]

“Could you love her, knowing what I am?” she asks. He doesn’t breathe. “Would you still care for her, if you knew the deepest, ugliest parts of her soul—those she hides with smiles and pleasantries?

There had always been something different about Shiori when she picks up the sword.

Sometimes it was just recklessness. Charging ahead a little too fast, a little too carelessly, getting herself hurt and smiling about it even as Alphinaud chided her while healing her wounds. Other times it was a little—darker. It was a crooked smile as she buried her sword in an enemy’s chest with barely concealed glee, the look of ecstasy on her face when she licked the blood off her lips, bathed in it like it was a spring shower.

Then sometimes it was... this. Her kneeling on the ground, laughing even as she bled more than any living person could possibly bleed, the gaping wound on her stomach painting the royal blue of her top a deep black. This time it’s him kneeling before her, muttering gods, shiori, are you alright even as it was obvious she was not, but she laughed and laughed and laughed.

You’ve got about six seconds to heal me, she says, and then she passes out.

He does heal her. She comes back like nothing happened, all pleasant smiles and thank you, Exarch, and she doesn’t talk about it.

She’s slipping.

He can feel it, they can feel it, but for once he hasn’t the faintest idea what to do. Was it him, who had pushed her to this point? Was summoning her to yet another fight that isn’t hers, in a world that is not her own the last push that tipped her off the edge?

He can’t answer. None of them can. And it keeps happening, slowly but surely.

One day, she doesn't come back.

If this is how it must be, then so be it. But know that when you tire of this charade, I shall be here—waiting to take the reins.

It’s been two weeks.

“Exarch,” Shiori greets, grinning, as soon as she opens the door. “To what do I owe the honor?”

She steps aside and he walks in, quietly. It almost feels familiar, this scene.

“I had hoped to speak with you alone,” he answers, moving to sit down on the sofa when she gestures to it.

She moves towards the table to pour him a glass of water. “I’m all ears,” she hums, chipper and melodic and so, so wrong.

“Thank you,” he says. “Then pray allow me to speak plain. What are you?”

She freezes where she stands with her back to him, the very air around them growing stagnant. She sets the flagon down on the table with a dull thud.

“No pleasantries, then,” she muses, the cheerful tint on her voice still there, but now with a hint of bitterness to it. “Ere I answer your so thoughtfully put question, my lord, pray allow me to regale you with one of my own. What does it matter to you what I am?”

She turns, leans back against the table and regales him with impossibly icy eyes. She still smiles. It feels predatory.

He swallows. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said,” she says, tilts her head to the side innocently. “You who summoned us here to fight your battles—why do you care who or what I am, as long as I serve your purpose? Have I not done so masterfully, especially after she let me take the reins?”

Us, I, she. The woman herself speaks like she doesn’t know if she is Shiori or not. But her words sting more than he would like to admit. It’s true—whatever had been holding her back is gone, replaced by something cold and ruthless, a Sin Eater killer through and through. Your Warrior of Darkness, he thinks to himself. Your weapon of darkness. Is this not what you wanted?

“I never wanted this,” he mutters, deflating. “I never wanted you to become—”

“I have always been this, Exarch,” she cuts him off. “I have always been here. I am your precious Warrior—the parts of her she doesn’t want you to see. The anger, the grief, the ruthlessness, and, well,” she chuckles, “the desire, too.”

He blinks. “You—”

He’s stunned into silence by her closing the distance between them with barely a couple steps, climbing into the sofa, into his lap, and caging him in, hands on his shoulders. He stills, hands closing into fists at his sides.

“Tell me,” she whispers, “do you care for her?”

She lowers herself the slightest bit, hips now fully resting over his lips, her thighs on each side of him, knees digging into the sofa. He can feel her scent, this close, lavender and clean sweat. He grits his teeth.

“More than anything,” he says. It’s the truth. She hums curiously, as if amused by his answer.

Then she grabs his crystallized hand and places it flat over her chest.

“Could you love her, knowing what I am?” she asks. He doesn’t breathe. “Would you still care for her, if you knew the deepest, ugliest parts of her soul—those she hides with smiles and pleasantries?

He can feel her heartbeat, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, the only thing separating his hand from her breast the thin, soft fabric of her camise. He swallows. She keeps talking.

“That’s why she hides them, you know. For all of her displays of bravery, the girl is so scared of being loved. So scared said love might vanish once they see how much she’s been hurt. How angry she is, how mad—”

There’s an unspeakable sadness to her voice now, but she stops mid sentence, lowering her gaze. He stills, a knot deep in his throat. I would love you, no matter what. Let me. Come back to me.

She laughs. When she looks up again, her eyes are hollow.

“But we needn’t delve into such matters here and now, do we?” she asks, grabs both of his hands and sets them neatly on her hips, over the curve of her—oh, wicked white. “Tell me, Exarch—do you want her?”

Yes, gods, yes. “Not like this,” he grits.

She rolls her eyes. “I can’t do anything she doesn’t want to do, herself,” she mutters, “and she wants you, you know. Shall I tell you what she imagines, alone in her bed at night? How she pictures your hands on her body, your lips on hers, your voice in her ear saying things so filthy I daresay you would blush yourself, if you were to hear them?”

His grip on her tightens so hard he’s sure it must be painful, but she only lets a pleased little sigh that makes heat pool low in his stomach. Then she starts moving, a barely there rock of her hips, but he can feel it, every ilm—

“I don’t—” he gasps, “I can’t—”

“Give in,” she whispers, low and heady. “You want this. She wants this.”

Here she is, her but not her, saying those things he had always wanted to hear, but—

There’s a knock on the door.

She’s out of his lap in seconds.

“Mistress Minami,” comes the voice from behind the door she has just opened, “I’m terribly sorry to bother you, but your comrades have requested your presence. They say it’s a most urgent matter.”

“Thank you,” she says. “I’ll be right there.”

She closes the door quietly, then turns to him. He swallows thickly, for once thankful for the cowl that hides his features.

“How unfortunate that we won’t be able to finish our little chat,” she says, walking back to where he’s sitting, bending at the waist so they’re at eye level. “But know that I’ll always be here, waiting, should you decide to give your hero what she wants.”

I’ll always be here. It feels like a threat. A warning, maybe. She’s not coming back. She doesn’t want to come back—

“Have a good evening, my lord,” she says, and then she’s gone, leaving him with only his shame for company.

He wonders, now, if it’s possible to miss a person you never truly knew.

[kaoru-takaida]

Post Shadowbringers:

Sickness Follows...

*contains 5.1 and Shadowbringers spoilers*

Hope bursts into the Eulmore Infirmary where the Chais and Kai-Shirr all watch in awe as a Hrothgar healer knelt down next to Alphinaud... who was coughing and breathing heavily. "Alphinaud!" Hope shrills. She steps forward, but the Hrothgar lifts his paw, his lion ears pulled back.

"Stop there..." He demands, patting Alphinaud's back. Hope freezes but looks at him longingly. "He has Asthma, yes?"

"Y-Yes." Hope answers. Alphinaud reaches up at Hope. And despite another warning to stay put from the Hrothgar, Hope takes his hand and kneels next to him. She inhales sharply as he wheezes a few times before closing his eyes and looking away, weakened for sure. Hooe scowls. "I know some remedies, let me help." The Lion-esque Hrothgar considers this before nodding.

Half a bell later, Alphinaud is asleep leaning against a blushing Hope in the cot. They had to remove his shirt to rub a warm medicinal oil on his back to help his lungs. The Hrothgar doctor sighs in relief, seeing Alphinaud's sleeping face. "Finally. He's asleep." He tilts his head at Hope. "Good work. Thank you for your aid."

Hope smiles. She looks down at the greenish brown choker around Alphinaud's neck. "Thanks for the Aeroburst Choker. I'm sure the thing was hard to find, so I owe you big time for letting him have it."

The Hrothgar smiles a warm smile. "Think nothing of it. For returning the night skies and saving our world, a choker is the least I can spare." He nods at Alphinaud. "The Choker will help the flow of air in his lungs if it happens again. But I fear the environment and the stress was what triggered the attack." Hope nods sadly. He extends a paw to her. "My name is Leon��é. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Hope smiles now, taking his paw with her free hand to shake. "Hope Gallant. Likewise." Hope sighs. "I've only ever seen him have an Asthma attack once since I've met him. And I was hoping he wouldn't have one away from our usual healers." Leonéé nods slowly.

"Well, if there are any remedies that you brought from your world to help, be sure to use them." Leonéé stands up. "I will be fetching more ingredients for a remedy that may help him here." Leonéé gives Hope a smile and a quick wave, before leaving the room.

Hope looks down at Alphinaud, fast asleep, but breathing unsteady. Casey removes a piece of paper in her pocket. Just as she does, she hears footsteps enter the room. Familiar ones. "Is he alright?" Hope looks up to see Alisaie standing in the doorway, Kai-Shirr poking his head in. "Gods, how bad was it this time?"

Hope smiles and slips the paper back into her pocket. "He's just fine. Gave us a little scare, but he's recovering nicely."

Alisaie sighs in relief walking forward and letting Kai-Shirr enter the room as well. "That's good to hear..." Alisaie sits on the cot next to Alphinaud, gently, trying not to wake him.

"He had us right worried. Suddenly collapsin' in the middle of a sentence. And the bloody coughing and wheezing was enough to even rattle the Chai couple." Kai-Shirr tilts his head in concern. "Has he always had this?"

Alisaie nods. "Unfortunately, yes." She tells him. "While my brother excelled in many a thing over myself, physical health and care was not one of them." Alisaie takes Alphinaud's hand into her own. "I hadn't even thought about his Asthma here in this new world."

Hope nods now. "Yeah... Thancred's condition followed him here, so we should have known Alphinaud's would too." Kai-Shirr places a hand on each one of their shoulders. They both give him a surprised look.

"I think we should just be thankful it didn't happen during our more... recent obstacles." Kai-Shirr says. "Like during that whole bit with Vauthry or when you lot were in battle somewhere. It happened where he could treated quickly, and that's all that matters."

Hope and Alisaie look at each other before smiling small smiles. They look back up at him. "You're right, Kai-Shirr..." Hope says.

"Thank you." Alisaie tells him. Kai-Shirr takes a second before finally removing his hands with a flinching motion.

"Ah, um." He says nervously, his cheeks red. "Nothin' to thank me for. Just bein' a proper... proper..." His voice trails off as does his glance.

"'Friend'." Hope says. Kai-Shirr looks at her. She smiles. "You were being a proper friend. And I'm sure Alphinaud appreciates it just as much as we do." Kai-Shirr chuckles nervously, itching his cheek in a bashful manner.

"Right-o..." He clears his throat. "I will... be sure to keep the work flow going so he doesn't get too far behind." Kai-Shirr trots to the doorway. He stops a second to glance over his shoulder at the three of them, before smiling and leaving the room. Alisaie's smile fades and she looks back down at her brother.

Hope sighs now, giving Alphinaud the same worried look. "There is another theory as to why this happened..." Hope says. Alisaie knows the answer, but waits for Hope to say it. "Your guys's aether beginning to become unstable might be straining this body of his. Since the disruption of aether can coincide with-."

"-the way the body maintains and functions the flow within our bodies..." Alisaie finishes. Hope nods sadly, looking away. "Meaning this may actually happen again before we return to the Source. And he'll become more likely the longer we stay."

They both remain silent. Hope exhales slowly before removing the piece of paper from hed pocket. She hands it to Alisaie. "Would you mind grabbing the items on that list and bringing them here?"

Alisaie takes the paper, and reads it. Her eyes widen a bit in realization. "Is this-?" She begins but stops short.

Hope smiles. "The Nymeia Mix from your Grandsire. I have some spare Nymeia flowers with me. The rest of those items should be simple enough to find." Alisaie smiles.

"Leave it to me." She replies. She stands up and races out of the room, leaving Hope alone with her thoughts. She glances at the sleeping Alphinaud in her arms.

Hope's eyes narrow a bit. "Feo Ul?" With a shimmer of light and a chiming noise, the orange colored pixie sparkled into the air.

"Oh, my sweet sapling. I come bearing news." They reply. Hope looks up at them. "Tius days he'll make his way to the First quickly in Krile and Tataru's plea." They give Hope a worried look. "However, I am unable to reach the other adorable sapling you asked for."

Hope sighs. "Kaoru..."

Feo Ul nods. "She's likely travelled to a place I'm unable to reach. I do hope that she is careful..."

Hope closes her eyes. "Me too, Your Highness." Hope opens her eyes, a bitter look falling onto them. "Me too..."

[lazhadeg]

SHIPPING INFO !! ANSWER THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR MUSE SO PEOPLE KNOW HOW SHIPPING WORKS ON YOUR BLOG.

WHAT IS YOUR OTP FOR YOUR CHARACTER?:

Aymeric / Estinien. They’re a sweet ship with a good amount of history behind them. Aymeric was Estinien’s first friend, and I do believe they consider each other best friends in canon. They trust each other. Idk, they just.... care for each other? And then you have the way @doustadig​ writes Aymeric, and I just ;-; He’s so beautiful. I really adore him. 

WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO WRITE WHEN IT COMES TO SHIPPING?:

Most things, but I draw the line at stuff such as abuse, etc, etc. Underaged stuff is a NO. And you can get right out of here with anything Alphinaud / Estinien related because I’ll block you right on sight. 

HOW LARGE DOES THE AGE GAP HAVE TO BE TO MAKE IT UNCOMFORTABLE?:

No underaged characters. I don’t care for characters over 10 years older than him either, unless idk. It’s a vampire AU or something. 8I 

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WHEN SHIPPING?:

Yes. I always have been.

HOW FAR DO STEAMY MOMENTS HAVE TO GO BEFORE THEY ARE CONSIDERED NS/FW?:

You’d know when I approached you about it. I’m not comfortable with writing it outside of one person, so I’d want to do a fade to black should things come to that.

WHO ARE OTHER THE CHARACTERS YOU SHIP YOUR CHARACTER WITH?:

@breselin and her WoL both have ships with Estinien! We’ve also discussed other ones, but they’re not quite to the point where they can take centre stage. Obviously, I ship Estinien with a good portion of WoLs outside too-- Providing their personalities work nicely together and there’s no underlining abuse, etc. Also, Ysayle! I prefer them as friends, but I could see them working out nicely with a good amount of plotting and work. 

DOES ONE HAVE TO ASK TO SHIP WITH YOU?:

Yes, I’m not one to be thrown into things blind. I’d also prefer a friendship between the two muns beforehand. 

HOW OFTEN DO YOU LIKE TO SHIP?: 

Not too often tbh. I won’t go over a certain amount per blog, and something like my Cecil blog is just straight up closed for Ramona’s Sephiroth.

ARE YOU SHIP OBSESSED OR SHIP MORE-OR-LESS?:

Nope. But I do love talking about them and our AUs if we have a ship! 

ARE YOU MULTISHIP?:

Kinda, but highly selective. I had a situation where someone tried to pressure me into a ship, and since then I’ve been pretty cautious. No one owes you a ship. 

WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE SHIP IN YOUR CURRENT FANDOM?:

Answered on Haurchefant. The ones on Estinien are Aymeric / Estinien, WoL / Estinien, Fusoyo / Estinien, Ysayle / Estinien, and Sephiroth [ WoL ] / Estinien. I’ve not thought of many outside of this. 

FINALLY, HOW DOES ONE SHIP WITH YOU?:

Just ask after some ic interaction if you think it might work. Or just ask anyway. WHO KNOWS.

TAGGED BY: Stole it from Haurchefant.

TAGGING: You! 

[enzelffxiv]

(part 1|2|3|4|5)

He came to with cold stone at his back. Everything ached, but distantly, as if he’d been in a fight a few days before and it was just catching up to him.

There was another figure sprawled at his feet, though it took them a moment to register who. Imry, in unfamiliar armor–it had been enameled in white once but bore too many scratches and scars now. He recognized the battered round shield she always insisted on carrying, but the sword he’d never seen before. It was small, and quite frankly, entirely unremarkable.

After a moment she stirred, as if waking up from a long sleep, though the place they lay was hardly appropriate for for a nap.

“Are you all right?” he found himself saying. “I’ve been waiting for you to open your eyes.”

-

The next time they saw her, she seemed diminished. Not physically, but in presence. There were dark circles under her eyes, as if she hadn’t been sleeping well. She carried their sword across her back now, but she had insisted on keeping the shield…

“I don’t understand,” Imry was saying, lifting a hand to pinch the wide bridge of her nose. “You want me to fight these beasts, but–have they attacked someone? Can they be eaten?”

“I need to be able to gauge your strength.”

“If that’s all it is, let’s go see Haurchefant. I bet he would spar with me again–”

“Imry,” they said impatiently, “a real fight. With real stakes.”

“Why haven’t we asked the locals, then? Maybe there’s something I can do for–”

They interrupted her. “Do you do this wherever you go? Looking for grunt work like a common sellsword? Your skills demand more than that.”

Her brow furrowed in bewilderment. They sighed. “Never mind. If you insist. If we’re lucky, perhaps they’re being terrorized by some overgrown monster.”

“That wouldn’t be lucky…” The confusion was evident in her voice. “It means people are getting hurt.”

“Yes, yes, and you’d be able to save them. That’s what a champion of the weak does, isn’t it?”

Imry looked uncertain. “Of course,” she replied after a moment, without much conviction.

-

She had new armor, finally. The Lord of House Fortemps had gifted it to her for her service. But she stubbornly refused to give up her shield. It looked even smaller and shabbier now against the shine of new-forged metal.

“Treating with the heretics? Are you all mad?”

“It’ll probably be a long journey,” she said. She had her back to them, busying herself with her chocobo’s tack. The normally placid, easygoing beast was shifting and whistling anxiously. Imry patted the side of her neck. “It’s all right, girl. We’ll get you something warm to wear–”

“And whose godsforsakenly foolish idea was that–”

“Mine,” she said firmly. “And Alphinaud’s.”

“The war in Ishgard has raged on for a thousand years. You don’t think people have have tried to end it before, and failed?”

“If we don’t try, more people will die. I have to do what I can.”

“This isn’t even your homeland!”

She turned to face them again, and her eyes were bright and full of worry. Infuriating. “It’s yours, though. Isn’t it?”

They didn’t know what to say.

-

“You smell like blood.”

Imry looked at them wearily. “Estinien got the worst of it…I think his armor may be ruined.”

“If you didn’t look fit to keel over at any moment, I’d say this were the perfect time…” Communion required a sacrifice, after all.

“You always have such strange…” she took a moment to find the word. “Priorities.”

“Ah, you’re right. I should be congratulating you on your victory. And I do mean that–”

“I just came to tell you the news. Because it’s been so long.”

“Imry, every citizen has been shouting of Nidhogg’s demise from the rooftops. You don’t think I would have heard?”

Imry was silent for a moment, seated on the steps, hands folded over the helm in her lap. Her hair had matted from being underneath it so long, her lips cracked from the cold.

“I wanted to tell you myself,” she said finally. “The truth. About Ishgard.”

They were silent as she recounted the tale. Despite the horror of the revelation, deep down, they knew–it was a familiar one. A tale that repeated itself through the ages, in ways both large and small. Greed, violence, retribution. Once the cycle began, it often didn’t end until everyone involved was dead. And dragons had much longer memories than man…

There was quiet for a long time after Imry finished speaking. Finally, she looked up at the overcast sky.

“Do you think things can finally change now?”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” they said scathingly. “You really believe the clergy, the nobles, would ever admit to such a truth? They’d rather sit on their power and keep sending the lowborn off to war.”

“But why would they give up the chance for peace?”

That was just it, wasn’t it. Why, indeed? Why was she so simple?

“I envy the world you live in,” they said coldly.

“It’s the same as yours,” she said, not understanding the idiom, as usual.

“Come see me again in a day. That should be enough. Now go back to your friends.”

-

She didn’t return for a week and a half. When she did, it was out of full armor; she wore a chain shirt under her heavy coat, and her hair was down in two long braids. She smelled of the reagents they used to clean bandages in the infirmary.

She sat down where she had the last time, and said nothing for a long while. For once, they broke the silence.

“It’s been some time.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was…frighteningly subdued. “I don’t know where to begin.”

“You, at a loss for words? I’m shocked.”

“I didn’t want to leave Akiv'a. He hasn’t been himself since–” A deep breath. “Since what happened in the Vault.” Her gloved fingers curled slightly in her lap.

And what about you?

“I hear you two are inseparable.”

“He’s my best friend,” she said, fiercely. “We always have each other’s backs. That’s why–”

Why does it hurt? What have you given up?

“I need to be stronger.”

Neither of them knew which one had spoken aloud.

-

You understand now, don’t you? You and I…we’re the same.

Imry–

You called out to me. You pulled me from the darkness. This was your will…and now I’ve decided.

Everything you’ve done was for others. For the nations, the people. For Eorzea. And what happened? They turned on you. Betrayed you. You owe them nothing.

But I know you. 

I am you. 

You can’t refuse them. You can’t turn your back on them. The moment someone cries out in pain or distress, you’ll be there to help them. Ever the hero.

Someday it’s going to kill you. And I can’t let that happen.

You wanted strength. I have it. I’m stronger than you now, so–

I’ll protect you this time. You don’t have to do a thing.

-

“You have to give her back.”

Akiv'a looked even smaller than usual, somehow. Ears laid back nearly flat against his skull, brow furrowed, the tip of his tail lashing anxiously. His one hand curled into a fist so tight the claws dug into his palm. 

“She hasn’t gone anywhere.” Confusion tinged their voice–was he afraid? Why? “She’s safe now.”

“Let me talk to her.” He was trying to keep his voice steady. "If she's there, then--"

“I can’t.” Why didn’t he understand? It was for her own good.

“Safe doesnt matter if she can’t see, hear, feel anything–”

"There wasn't any other choice." Why didn’t he understand? “The world is hard–and she couldn’t handle it on her own. She chose this.”

“She wouldn't--that can't be...she wouldn't just give up!" He shook his head, looking away.

Why does it hurt?

"You think I'm lying?" Their voice wavered. Strange. Akiv'a's eyes flashed as he looked them over again, but the anger faded quickly to something else. An ache.

This feeling...is the same. It's loneliness. Longing.

"You won't accept me in place of her."

"No one's going to replace her! Not whatever you are, not--I don't care what you do, just give her back! Give her back..."

He took a step forward, and they could feel the aether gathering around him.

Of course. A shade was no substitute. But it didn't matter. Whatever it took to protect her--yes, even if he hated them.

"She lost to me because she was weaker. That's why..."

Aether flared. A flame burst to life over Akiv’a’s right shoulder, the egi uncurling in one smooth motion.

Fragment of Ifrit. The flames were so familiar. They remembered the anger, the horror, the heat on their face, the taste of ash on their tongue. Searing pain on the left side of their face. The gritty haft of a spear stolen from an Amalj'aa clutched in their bare hands.

One of her memories.

He’d summoned the creature without an incantation or even even a gesture. It was pure instinct.

"Imry isn't weak," he forced through gritted teeth. "If you've done something to her, then--"

They drew their sword with a bitter laugh. No shield, just nearly two yalms of steel. "There's nothing you can do."

The groaning of earth and stone, the sharp shriek of the wind–two more glowing forms joined the first. Akiv'a cast his arm wide, fingers curled.

"Try me."

-

They lay on their back in the snow.

If any of them really cared for her–

A voice, calling.

I’m sorry. I failed you. I couldn’t be what you needed.

“That’s all right,” Imry said. She sat with her knees up, arms folded atop them. She was looking into the distance. They could hear the sound of waves. 

“I’m the one who should be apologizing. I thought maybe–maybe…”

She put her head down.

“I was just running away. I thought I was sparing them. Everything was so hard already…I didn’t want anyone to see me falter.”

They should have protected you! They should have done better!

She shook her head. "I’ll–…I’ll go back now. I don’t want to worry anyone any longer. You can rest.”

Silence.

She looked up at them, eyes wide. “You’re not going to disappear, are you?“

Of course not. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.

-

Pain was familiar, even if the rest of it was not.

They looked over their hands, then up into Imry’s anxious face, leaning over them.

"Did it–it worked!” Her voice wavered, and they realized after a moment that she looked strangely pale. Ashen. “Are you all right? How do you feel…?”

“What did you…you idiot, what did you do–” Instinctively they grabbed for her shoulder as she swayed, then sat down next to them abruptly. Sweat stood out on her forehead, and her breathing was fast and shallow.

“I-I’m all…I just need to sit for a moment. That’s all.” She reached up to rub her face with one arm, and a glint of light caught their eye; held in her other trembling hand, two crystals. The smaller one a deep, deep red, surface carved with a familiar symbol. The other they had never seen before, but knew immediately what it was.

Her Crystal of Light.

“What did you do.”

“I…I didn’t want you to be lonely anymore. It’s my fault–for making you…because I was–because I couldn't accept what was right in front of me...” Her fingers curled around the crystals, and she clutched them to her chest, over her heart. They could feel her heartbeat, faint and frantic. And something else–a clawing ache deep in their own chest. A gaping emptiness.

“No.”

They grabbed her by both shoulders, and she looked startled, but didn’t protest.

“You–you absolute–…” At a loss, they gave up and simply stared at her.

Imry smiled weakly. “I-I’m sure it’ll take getting used to, but…this way, we can both be here…”

"I don't want to get used to it!" The words came hastily, panicked. Imry's eyes widened. "It hurts--I don't want to be separate from you!"

"You were--hurting even when we were together. I could feel it..." Imry looked like she might cry. Somehow, that made them angrier. They pushed her away, and she nearly fell, catching herself with her free hand.

"You idiot," they hissed. "Look what you've done to yourself--you could have killed yourself! You can't just use aether like that!"

"I did," she said quietly, stubbornly, no longer looking at them.

"Reverse it," they demanded. When she didn't respond, they held out a hand, palm facing her. "Take it back." 

Imry shook her head.

[furiael]

[FFXIV] Marduk/Sigurd: Poisoning

Marduk took a sip of the wine that was served to him, just as he stared at his host. He had managed to infiltrate for a year into the manor of this powerful Lord who sold his conscience to the garleans as they stepped into Doma -pretty much like Yotsuyu-, and Hien commended the pale Au ra for him to get deep into said lord’s army and get as much information as he could on Garlemald and the army constantly dispatched to the conquered kingdom.

And he had done a great job, but seems someone didn’t trust him enough… And the young monk realized about it when he found his sight to blur.

“--What?” The nausea he started to feel was overwhelming, enough for him to drop the cup he was holding. He tried to look around, his head feeling like it was going to explode, and his sight was totally failing him, his glasses not being of help at all.

The lord was just as confused to him, but an advisor managed to explain the whole situation, the news of Marduk being an spy reaching his ears.

“So I see. A spy… Then he deserves a death like that.”

Said lord got up from the table and left the room, obviously ordering his guards to watch Marduk as he passed out, and then get dispose of his mortal remains.

“...N-- No…” With difficulty, Marduk got on his feet and stared at the lord, who was leaving, and after using his Fists of Fire, he used his Shoulder Tackle, managing to reach his target and leaving him stunned for a few seconds. But he was starting to feel weak, and lost his balance, falling next to the lord.

“KILL HIM!”

The alarm was raised, and ninjas started to appear around, ready to dash and attack Marduk for reaching their master.

“---Code red, get-- now--!!” Marduk spoke through the linkshell with difficulty as he started to cough and gag as a reaction from the poison, when one of the ninjas reached him and cut him on his arms which he used for covering from the fall. He couldn’t even cry in pain, as the contents of his stomach were just spilled out as he vomited.

A few other ninjas had reached him and attacked him with their ninjato. Yet before anyone tried to finish him, a few blurry figures made their appearance, the attackers taken down.

“Marduk!” Yugiri lifted up his head, noticing the symptoms which were clear. He had been poisoned, and he required immediate attention. She and another ninja from her team grabbed the tall Au ra and took him with them, while a massive, tall samurai roegadyn made his entrance, taking care of arresting the lord and his advisor. They would have to face Hien, and tell the prince everything they had given to the Garleans in exchange for power.

--

“Don’t let him faint, Yugiri,” Alphinaud spoke through the linkshell as he rushed to the meeting point, trying to remember his lessons on potions and antidotes. “I am sure we can do something about--”

“Bring him to me, I’m already at the meeting spot.”

“...Who--”

“Got the word from Lord Hien, and I have come prepared to save Marduk’s life.”

Alphinaud’s surprise was obvious and a wide smile followed in his features. Sigurd was back and ready to help them with their cause.

--

Yugiri hadn’t been able to keep Marduk conscious and awake. Seems that the poison was highly concentrated on his drink, and after spilling the contents of his stomach, he was sweating like if there was no tomorrow while having one hell of a fever.

She and her team partner put Marduk on the ground, in front of Sigurd, and stepped back. Another ninja came after them with a sample of the spilled drink, and quickly added that they didn’t have antidote for that poison. Maybe it had a garlean origin, the ingredients were completely unknown to them.

Marduk’s breathing was slowing down. They were losing him. Sigurd had to do something.

The dark skinned miqo’te took out his astrometer, making it spin to use his abilities. First, he performed an usual heal, to give himself and Marduk a longer chance in life.

As a second step, he took the sample from the ninja. He eyed it, took out his botany tools to study it in detail. “As I suspected, I can’t just simply use my Esuna spell.”

Alphinaud had arrived to the place, and checked Sigurd’s work. “Ser Sigurd, don’t tell me Esuna won’t work.”

“...” Sigurd’s reply quickly answered his rhetorical question. Quickly Yugiri informed him of the situation and all the people there were just waiting for the miqo’te to actually tell them that everything was going to be fine.

“Try to open his mouth.”

Astrometer aside, the miqo’te mixed a few herbs and complex compounds he carried on his bag, obtaining a small amount of beverage, which he carefully poured right into Marduk’s throat.

“...!!!” His eyes suddenly opened wide. Marduk gagged and by reflex put his hands on his throat, feeling like burning from the inside.

“Hold him, the antidote has a strong effect, his whole system will be shocked awake.”

The people around them went to hold him, having a hard time. Marduk was insanely strong, physically speaking, and it seemed like the medicine caused him an adrenaline rush. Everyone got hit, punched and thrown away by the Au ra.

That, until he started to look exhausted and passed out again.

“Marduk!” Alphinaud, hurt, tried yet to rush to help him.

“He will be fine, Alphinaud,” Sigurd reassured him with a tired smile, as he had been kicked and punched as well. “Just a good night’s rest, and he will be as good as new.”

--

Marduk wasn’t one to get frequently drunk. It had only happened a couple of times. But waking up today… came with a huge hangover.

Eyes half open, he tried to recall what had happened, the images of him at the dinner with the lord, the drink… everything started to be replayed in his mind. He grunted in annoyance, and considered to get up to get some water… But something was on his arms and he couldn’t move.

Turning to look at what kept him in bed, he found Sigurd sleeping next to him, somehow there were some dried tears decorating his face.

He then wondered why he would find the miqo’te like that.

“Sigurd…”

His throat was dry and his voice came all hoarse. He had to call Sigurd a few more times for the name to come out right, but in any case, the miqo’te didn’t wake up.

Marduk extended his free arm around, looking for his glasses, which he managed to find, and took a close look to the one next to him. Curiously, he examined each feature. The marks on his cheeks, his cat-like ears decorated with earrings, his nose, his beard, blond, contrasting with his dark skin… his lips. The Au ra couldn’t resist the desire to caress him, something he did gently, carefully.

On his sleep, Sigurd mumbled something and curled up, making Marduk chuckle softly, but the groan in realization as it seemed that he wouldn’t have his arm free for now.

The pale Au ra decided then to just throw his blanket over the miqo’te and move his arm around his waist, closing his eyes and trying to fall asleep after putting his glasses away again.

--

“Oh, shit…”

He didn’t really want to sleep, but he was tired indeed. He had been traveling for days, and had to rush away as he was briefed on the mission by Hien. Then Marduk’s poisoning and injuring…

He really thought he had failed on his antidote making. Marduk had to wake up in a 12 hours span, but two days passed and there was no sign of the au ra opening his eyes. He panicked, got scared and promised himself to watch every minute for a reaction, but tiredness got to him.

But Sigurd now realized that Marduk was fine. The one covered with the blanked now was the miqo’te, and the pale Aura had his arm over his smaller frame.

“So you woke up…”

“Yes,” Marduk replied, his voice still hoarse.

“I was scared… You slept for more than what I expected.”

“Can’t say I was in control…”

Sigurd moved -which was a blessing for Marduk’s arm- and got up, to reach for a glass of water, offering it to the au ra. Marduk downed it in one go, and handed back the empty glass.

“I owe you again, Sigurd.”

“Yes, you do. How will you pay me then?”

“...” Marduk really was someone without big funds. He usually volunteered for everything, and lived pretty much by trading his work and skills for goods for living.

“If you don’t have an idea, I do. Hope you don’t mind.”

White eyes (with lime limbal rings) widened as such sentence was mentioned. He really had no idea of what the other could have come up with, so he was more than interested to listen.

Sigurd came back to the bed, lying down next to Marduk…

Then inched close for a kiss.

“...!!” The Au ra was totally taken by surprise, frozen on his spot, unable to mutter a word.

“How about a date when you totally recover…?” Sigurd smiled widely as he spoke about his proposal.

“...I totally suck for that. I don’t even remember having a proper one. Would you be daring to-- Wait. Do you want US to have a date?!”

“But first I want a better kiss, you totally sucked just now.”

Marduk had to look away to hide the evident blush that was drawn on his face and ears.

‘Did this guy figure out that I have… feelings for him?’

“Well?”

“Uhm…” Marduk turned again to stare at the miqo’te. He remembered what he contemplated while Sigurd was sleeping…

And soon they were sharing a kiss. Lips being sucked against, tongues meeting, greeting each other as they entangled on the passion of the moment…

--

“Thanks for saving me. Your timing was amazing.” Marduk was totally back in business, now fully dressed in his usual attire, but he had yet to put his haori on.

“The stars told me everything, I knew I had to come with haste.” Sigurd was getting dressed as he spoke, grabbing all his belongings and storing them in his travelling bag. “I also made some more antidote for Yugiri and the other ninjas to learn about it.”

“That is great if we’re to find more Garleans. Also, don’t want anyone to go through such poisoning… I thought I wasn’t going to make it.”

“But you did, and now you owe me a date.”

They couldn’t help but laugh about that.

“You’re going to regret it, Sigurd…”

“I don’t think so. You can make it great. Also, bring me flowers.”

“...Fine.”

[keeperprinceling]

AU

“Out of Sync” AU - weeks later:

cause @yvainearadia​ and I just :> idk I enjoy torturing the poor kid but we can’t just leave them not together it just doesn’t compute.

(Yvaine Aradia) Yvaine landed on the tiny island with a thud of her white lanner's claws, fuming. It had taken her at least an hour to scour the entirety of the Sea of Clouds before she saw his damn white ears from above and his familiar figure when she flew closer to make sure. She had had enough. Enough of his childish behavior, of his crazy person attitude, the resentment that she sometimes felt thrown her way, and worst of all his complete and utter rudeness toward their host Ser Aymeric.

 He didn't even have to be here. If he hated it so much, he didn't have to keep his promise. She stalked toward him and sent the bird away, stopping a few paces behind him. "Khit'li," she said shortly, in a tone that she only used with people who had really tested her endless patience, and never with him before. "We need to talk."

(Khit’li Mewrilah) His shoulders tensed and ears flattened, the quiet serenity the Sea of Clouds had given him vanishing in an instant as his name resounded from those lips with such contempt. They needed to talk? Fear coursed through him, resentment fast on its heels. This was it: he was fired; booted from the Scions; asked to leave. He steeled himself for what she had to say, brandishing what was left of his dignity to keep a cool mood as he looked over his shoulder at her. “About what?” he stated, tone bold and flat and flavored with just a hint of the bitterness that had been steadily filling him ever since they came to that city of stone and snow.

(Yvaine Aradia) "About your attitude," she replied, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "I need to know why you're behaving like this, because none of it makes sense to me, and no one will tell me anything even though I know they know... and I'm tired of feeling like the dumbest person in the room. Did I do something wrong? Did Aymeric? Because you sure are treating him like he's a villain, when he's been nothing but good to us."

(Khit’li Mewrilah) Khit’li rolled his eyes and returned his gaze forward, staring at the rolling plains in the distance. His attitude. He held fast to that feeling, that desire to be contemptuous and sarcastic that filled him up against his sympathy for her. She wasn’t the dumbest person in the room, he was. Dumb and too stupid to just move on. “Nope, you’re right,” he replied loud enough to be heard over the winds, “He’s been a perfect prince and I’ve been a jerk. Point taken.”

 (Yvaine Aradia) She was surprised to hear him just... accept it. She was expecting more of a pushback. "Okay, but you didn't answer the question. Why are you behaving like this?" she pressed, not about to let it go that easy. Not anymore. She'd spent too many nights obsessing and fuming and just being frustrated trying to keep everything together.

 (Khit’li Mewrilah) Why? –Why?- The corner of his lip trembled up into a half smile that shook at the absurdity of the question. Why didn’t he like her precious Aymeric? Head scratcher. “No reason,” he replied, unable to remove the bitter note and not exactly sure he wanted to. “Didn’t know it bothered you. I’ll stop.”

 (Yvaine Aradia) No reason? NO REASON?! Didn't know it bothered her?! "Will you really?" she asked, then massaged her nose. "Listen. You have made scenes in front of important people for no reason. You have been passive aggressive and sometimes outright aggressive. Our relationship with Ishgard is tenuous and you're just... It's like you don't care if we go back to before they opened their doors to us. And I don't accept that answer. I know you're not the kind of person who does things for no reason."

 (Khit’li Mewrilah) He clenched his jaw, stating “I’m –sorry-,” through his teeth. “It won’t happen again,” he added, enunciating every word around locked teeth. He’d just keep out of Ishgard altogether, get his news from Alphinaud or Estinien – he knew he was giving the former headaches about this anyway for all that political nonsense. He’d pitch a tent here and just… try not to think about what was happening in there. No worries about irrational Khit’li for them, no new relationship thrown in his face. Everyone’s a winner.

 (Yvaine Aradia) She didn't want his apology. She thought she did, but this wasn't enough. And the more he closed himself off from her, the more agitated she felt. He'd never been like this with her. He'd always been easygoing and fun and playful... not bitter and resentful. "No, I don't accept that. I asked you a question," she moved closer now, and stood before him, forcing him to look at her. She tried to say something else, some other way to frame the question, but eventually all she had was the simplest one.

  "I've never seen you be like this. And I need to know why, damn it!" Frustration mounted within her. "Don't treat me like this! Like I'm... some kind of outsider or your superior or something. It's me. You used to talk to me. I'm not leaving here until I get a straight answer."

(Khit’li Mewrilah) His eyes twitched up to her and away, staring around her to the countless islands as though they were a raft he could turn to when faced with the stormy sea before him as she stated her case, trying not to care, trying not to be surprised when she actively -swore- at him, but all he could focus on was how close the heel of her boot was to the edge, anxiety making his stomach flip. He would have refused to stand to meet her, but with her precarious positon… he frowned deeply and pushed himself backwards to stand, putting more space between them and avoiding her gaze. Crossing his arms in a mirror of her own stance, defending himself as much a she was defending herself, he stuck to it, ignoring everything she had said but her question, heat creeping into his tone. Why wouldn’t she just leave it alone? “It’s –nothing-. Drop it. I’ve already said I won’t bother you or your precious Aymeric anymore, what more do you want?!” He turned away, “Go back to Ishgard and linkshell me when we’re leaving for the Hinterlands.”

 (Yvaine Aradia) "Precious" Aymeric? There he went again, saying the name like it was poison. As he finally snapped at her, she felt pain rip through her - he'd never acted this harsh with her before. The idea that he hated her tore her apart. And yet above all that anger churned. Patience frayed. She followed him stubbornly and stood before him again. She had defeated primals and Garleans and Ascians. She was going to get through to him. "I want answers! I want to know what the hell is wrong with you!"

 (Khit’li Mewrilah) She blocked him in again, he stepped back, clenching his teeth, his arms uncrossing and pushing out to either side for an emphatic shrug as he all but spat, “Well Too bad!” and started to storm off, hands in fists at his sides. Nothing was wrong with him. Nothing -at all -was wrong with him. It wasn’t like every time he closed his eyes he saw them -holding hands -or -whispering into each other’s ears- or anything! It wasn’t like the only time he felt at -home- anymore was when they were -fighting to stay alive- because that was the -only time- he was certain a linkshell call from Aymeric would go ignored and she would -actually be there with him.- It was –nothing- that was going to change so it -was nothing.- He hadn’t acted fast enough and he’d -deal with it-.

 (Yvaine Aradia) Too bad? That was the best he could give her? The way he was so... so... arrogant and that he treated her as if she meant nothing, no one he owed any explanation to whatsoever made her blood boil. And in that moment, without thinking, she pulled one of her bows and shot an arrow toward him, letting it hit the ground right in front of him, missing him by an ilm. She stayed where she was, expecting him to stop. "I said. I need. An answer. Nobody is leaving until I get it."

(Khit’li Mewrilah) He froze as the arrow pierced the ground before him, the tail feathers quivering from the force of impact. His nails bit into his palms. She had shot at him?! Her words rolled towards him with the force of a tidal wave, and he stood as a breakwater, anger tensing his muscles as he half turned back towards her, eyes cold on hers as he reached down, pulled the arrow from the earth, and tossed it aside. Without a word, he broke the gaze and continued walking, pulling the gryphon whistle from a breast pocket.

 (Yvaine Aradia) She regretted it as soon as the arrow flew. And then he just walked away, like she didn't even matter at all. Did she ever even matter to him? She rushed after him, seeing the whistle on his hand and snatching it away, half tempted to throw it over the edge but she knew that was probably unnecessary. What would happen to the poor bird? She planted herself in front of him again, and even grabbed his arm just in case he tried to teleport away. "Who are you and what have you done with the Khit'li I know and l--" her sentence cut abruptly when she realized what she was about to say. "Are you punishing me? Did I do something wrong? Do you hate me now? Because I don't want you to be beside me if you resent me for it! You can take back your promise!"

 She inhaled sharply as the words came out before she could think twice about it.

 Please don't take back the promise.

 (Khit’li Mewrilah) He barely heard her running after him, the blood in his ears a dull roar - he expected her to ineffectively stand in his way again, but by that time the gryphon would be winging towards him and -- but she took the whisle. He scowled at her, eying the tool she held away from him in what she assumed to be out of reach and fumed - he may have longer arms, but she was indefinitely more dexterous than he; any attempt he made would dissolve into a children's game of keep-away he never had a hope of winning and would lose whatever was left of his pride in the process. She took his arm. He'd have to actively break her hold on him - ...but he didn't want to hurt her. He just wanted her to leave him alone! But already her questions were flying again - the first he half-rolled his eyes at for being over-dramatic, wondering for a split second what kind of end she originally had in mind - The Khit'li she knew and what? Respected? She didn't have to hint at it - he knew he had lost her respect! He bit his tongue, but the questions that followed, direct, passionate, in his face so that he couldn't turn away - he couldn't leave those alone.

Punishing her? "No."

She do something wrong? He looked away, "No."   You didn't wait for me to --

Did he hate her? "No!" Being ridiculous -

She didn't want him if he resented her for it. He scowled He didn't resent her.

 He could take back his promise. "That's not it!" he stated emphatically - if he did leave, he didn't want her to think it was because he resented her.

 (Yvaine Aradia) His answers remained short and not at all helpful, and she was out of options. If it wasn't about her, then what? Aymeric? Did he do something to offend Khit'li that she didn't know about? But if so, why wouldn't Khit'li just tell her? All the questions boiled over in her head and she felt like she might explode. "Then WHAT IS IT?!" she yelled, shaking him a little as if that way, she could shake out the answer out of him.

(Khit’li Mewrilah) Yelling?! He could yell. He's WANTED TO YELL EVER SINCE THE "LORD COMMANDER" SCREWED EVERYTHING UP, and he's gotten GREAT PRACTICE right here in THE SEA OF CLOUDS. Putting words to it wouldn't be all that HARD. "It's NOTHING!" he yelled, his face angled away, ears back, bicep tense beneath her grip.

 (Yvaine Aradia) "If there's one thing it's not, it's clearly nothing!" she insisted, actually feeling good that she could finally yell at him, even if everything inside her felt crushed. She wanted to cry, but she would not give him the satisfaction. "Is it nothing I can possibly understand? Is that it? You won't tell me, just like the other Scions, because everybody thinks I'm stupid!"

 (Khit’li Mewrilah) Part of him wanted to say yes, it wasn't something she could understand, just to piss her off, but then she brought the Scions into it and her personal feelings about their perception of her, and no matter how frustrating she was being, he couldn't perpetuate that. "That's not it!" he insisted, turning away from her grip.

 (Yvaine Aradia) "Then what IS it, Khit'li?! For The Twelves' sake, just tell me, dammit!" she yelled right at his face, feeling like she was close to exploding.

 (Khit’li Mewrilah) "It's because I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU, OKAY?!"" he shouted back, looking at her at last as he jerked his arm back and stepped back from her. "Are you happy now?!" he asked, sarcasm dripping from his words, "I can't stand seeing the pair of you together - it's driving me insane! Is that what you wanted to hear?! That every time you smile at him it feels like I'm getting punched in the gut?! Every time you hold hands i just want to scream?! That I can't get you out of my head, let alone get over you?! Is that enough?! Are you satisfied?!"

He was.

Roughly he turned, not wanting to see her pity or hear her response. "Can you leave me alone now?!"

 (Yvaine Aradia)What he yelled at her next made her heart felt as if it stopped dead. She froze with her mouth open, wondering if she was hearing things, if her mind was playing tricks on her. In love with you? What?! Since when? She let him go this time as he moved away, still yelling, demanding to know if she was happy. And she was just confused. It felt like her whole world had been tilted upside down.

 He continued to rant about how he couldn't stand seeing her and Aymeric - he was jealous?! Every word that he said stabbed into her, creating more holes in the fabric of reality as she knew it. She couldn't wrap her mind around this admission. But he had rejected her! She'd been heartbroken about it! She'd only opened her heart to Aymeric and his... advances because she was trying to get over him! And now he was saying he was jealous?!

 When he finally stopped talking, she scrambled to find her own words, lost in the depths of her confusion. "What are you even talking about?! I thought you didn't like me! That... that time in my room, that I thought we were going to kiss... You pulled away! You made me feel like a fool because I thought I read the whole thing wrong! What was that about then?!"

 (Khit’li Mewrilah) He tensed, his tail lashing,and whirled back around to face her, the disparity at the memory overriding the meaning behind her interpretation. "You felt a fool?! You rejected me! You messed with me, got me all wound up and confused about what you were saying and what you really meant- you touched your forehead to mine after I kissed you -!" still angry but now completely embarrassed and hurt, he still couldn't stop himself, as though desparate to prove something. "Adelpha got my hopes back up, making me think I still had a chance," he continued sarcastically, "But obviously I was an idiot to believe her, so pardon me for not being over you yet. I beg forgiveness for acting irrationally when you and your boyfriend are showing off your relationship, and I apologize for allowing myself to be mislead in thinking I had had a chance!"

 His arms returned to his chest, crossing tightly, still fuming and hurt but wanting to jab at her one more time. "May I be excused now?!"

 (Yvaine Aradia) Rejected him? When? Were they remembering the same incident? "I never messed--!" she protested, spluttering, but couldn't even finish her sentence because she was beyond perplexed by what he was even saying. Had they somehow both thought they'd been rejected by the other? This seemed so implausible, and yet...

 "I touched my forehead to yours for a better angle at kissing on the lips, not on the cheek, you dumb cat!" she yelled, unable to filter her words anymore. This whole situation was so infuriating. "Also he's not my boyfriend! I only opened up to him because I thought you didn't want me and that was the fastest way to get over you! Don't you see how stupid this whole misunderstanding is?! Why would you jump to stupid conclusions like that? You were my first choice, all I ever wanted was you!"

 (Khit’li Mewrilah) He clenched his jaw, his expression hardening as the hair on his tail fluffed in agitation - cat?! - but as her words started to make sense the angle of his brow changed as fury fell to confusion, the line of his mouth staying set out of sheer stubbornness as she continued and his perceptions were thrown back in his face. His pulse still burned in his veins, but as what she said started to sink in, his stomach soured and flipped. He felt smaller, miniscule before her as he realized that if he hadn't been off of her list already - as she had just admitted - what he just pulled and the scene he just made surely knocked him off for good. His gaze fell to her shoulder as the realization hit home - she had liked him. - and started to permeate past the surface and down into his core. Everything was worse now. Whereas before there had always been able to hold onto the daydream scenario that if he had only acted faster and admitted his feelings she might not have chosen Aymeric and given him a chance - it was a safe supposition because he could imagine several responses wherein she admitted that she didn't care for him in that way, which both fueled his bitterness yet somehow made him accept what had happened more, but now...

 It felt like the rock was crumbling beneath his feet, his vision blurred and swam around the shoulder he focused his sight on. She had liked him. IIt wasn'tthat he hadn't acted fast enough. He had blown it. He had had a chance, and wasted it, and now he was proving over and over again that he would not have been a better choice.

'You were my first choice, all I ever wanted was you!'

He knew those words would haunt him for the rest of his days, returning as easily and as unbidden as they did now, echoing hallowly in his chest.

She had wanted him.

 He couldn't look at her. "So now what?"

 (Yvaine Aradia) Now what indeed. Now that she knew he wanted her. Now that she knew he was in love with her. He had used present tense - he was still in love with her. She had used past, but... only because she thought she had to get over him. Only because she thought it was something she had to leave behind, but... in light of his admission, she realized that the feelings had never gone anywhere. That she had as little of a chance to forget about it and start thinking of him as a companion, maybe even a brother - the thought made her feel all wrong - as the sun rising in the west.

 And now what? Now that they both knew they wanted each other?

 The answer seemed ridiculously simple to her. Maybe it didn't to him, but for her it was crystal clear.

 "Now, how about you shut up and kiss me the way you should've the first time around?"

 (Khit’li Mewrilah) He didn't understand her request. She had been furious. He had been petulant. He had confessed out of frustration, used it and sarcasm to lash out at her - the former lifting a weight from his chest, the shame of the other already weighing him back down. She had admitted she used to have feelings for him, that Aymeric was her way to get over him. He had been expecting his question to be met with a demand that he stay there for a few days until things calmed down again, else go home as he was causing more trouble than he was worth; he had already decided to acquiesce to whatever it would be before she made it - it'd be easier for both of them, and it was past time he actively try to get over her.

 But to kiss her? That had been the last thing he had expected.

 He had hesitated, but now slowly relaxed his arms. He had told himself he'd acquiesce, and hadn't he wanted to kiss her for months? Hadn't he imagined doing just what she had said when lying awake at night, making plans he knew he'd never keep just so he could fall asleep? Why, then, did he feel so conflicted about it now? It tugged at him, the feeling of anticipation tinged with something like sadness as his arms slowly unfolded and his gaze met hers, and it was then that he realized why: he didn't know why she asked for this now. She had been trying to get over him - was this some last step? To get the kiss she had said she wanted, but at a time so unlike back then that the memory would cement for her that he would have been the wrong choice?

 If this kiss is to be our first and our last, he reasoned with a steady confidence as he stepped closer, his eyes closing as his right hand moved to cup her face, then I'll make it a good goodbye.

 It started hesitant, but the moment his lips brushed hers it was only too easy to give in, forget what was going on and forget everything but her. Her quirks. Her passion. Her faults. All of her. The kiss strengthened and deepened of its own accord, lasting for as long as he felt welcome, and as it ended it slowed, seeming to trail off sweetly.

 If that was it, if that was all that would pass between them in that way, then he had no regrets.

 ...

 That was a lie.

 As moments passed the urge to kiss her again grew, keeping him routed in place, his hand still to her face, his fingers still slipped into her hair, tempting him. No. He wasn't satisfied. She had wanted him. Maybe she could want him again. If that was a goodbye, then let it be to the awkwardness of before, and let this one be an invitation to a new beginning.

 As he pulled back from the second kiss, his eyes still shut, he put his forehead to hers. "Give me another chance?"

 (Yvaine Aradia) It was a direct request. It didn't get any simpler than that. And yet, inexplicably, he still hesitated. Did he not want her anymore? Had his jealousy blinded him so much now his feelings had turned into hatred? People say there's a fine line between love and hate...

 She stared at him as he moved closer, waiting in anticipation. Would he leave her hanging for the second time? If he did, this time it would not be her fault. She could not have been more clear about what she wanted. He couldn't blame it on her anymore. Her mind flew back to that fateful day, when she thought she was finally going to get what she wanted, and found herself wanting it just as much now. The feelings hadn't changed at all. And if he rejected her again, she didn't know if she could cope with the embarrassment and broken heart once more, especially after she had asked him directly.

 And she'd probably never forgive him.

 But then his hand cupped her face and her eyes fluttered closed, and she felt his lips pressing against hers. Her heart seemed to bloom in her chest, the previously withered feelings growing anew. There was an exquisite ache of longing within her as she returned the kiss in kind, her hands catching his face and pulling it closer as they deepened the kiss. It was subdued yet passionate, and she found it ending all too quickly, leaving her mind lost somewhere in the clouds, haze clouding her vision. She felt a bit intoxicated, and was unable to immediately say anything - to demand for more, to say that that wasn't enough - he suddenly kissed her again, and her thoughts became more scattered.

 When she took a breath from that one, she was surprised to find his forehead against hers, and found herself in a rare moment of mischief. "I thought you said forehead touching was a no-no on kissing. I might not be able to forgive you now."

 She wondered if he'd take it seriously, and how fast and far she'd have to go to run after him and yell that she was just kidding, and sighed. "That was a joke, by the way. Like I said, all I ever wanted was you."

 (Khit’li Mewrilah) His forehead twisted against hers as he shook his head in disbelief, tension draining with her attempt at a joke and the following sigh+explanation combo. With his own exaggerated sigh, he replied with an air of haughty confidence only too similar to the way he explained things she should very well know as a keeper, just for fun. "Foreheads before an attempt at a first kiss is a no. After a first kiss is totally fine."

 (Yvaine Aradia) She rolled her eyes and chose simply to kiss him again in an attempt to shut him up. "Next time, more kissing, less foolish overthinking," she said as she pulled back briefly to chide him. "Now, maybe we should go back to Ishgard. I have to go break a perfectly good Elezen's heart."

 (Khit’li Mewrilah) "The poor thing," Khit'li murmured sarcastically, his lips brushing against hers as he closed the short distance she had created.

 (Yvaine Aradia) She leaned into the kiss, but soon broke it again. "Promise you will stop antagonizing him? You've got the girl now. You've won. The poor man deserves a break," she replied with a slight warning tone in her voice.

 (Khit’li Mewrilah) His brows furrowed petulantly as he looked down at her, then rolled his eyes dramatically. "Fine," he sighed, "I'll lay off the tall blue bastard and his perfect manners and charming everything." A thought struck him and he grinned rougishly, teasing her, "They're going to think you're insane - giving up Aymeric for the grumpy asshole Miqo'te that's been giving the Scions a headache since we got here." He paused, musing, "Then again, most of the conservative nutjobs would be relieved - they didn't seem too happy that the boy wonder was interested in someone outside his own race."

 He took her hand, as though reassuring himself that what just happened was real, the reminder instantly taking his attention off the path his mind was taking. "I'll be good," he assured her honestly, and couldn't help himself after that, nodding his head to the side with a small scowl, "I'll even apologize if you want me to," he offered, the word sounding like a distasteful thing.

 (Yvaine Aradia) "Please don't call him a bastard," she chided, even though that was what he was. She just never liked that word. She didn't know her parents - she could have been one herself - and she certainly wouldn't have liked to be called that. She smiled as he spoke about what everyone would think about her choice of consort, and shrugged. "I don't think I was made for life in Ishgard anyway. All those rules and traditions and court manners... I'm never going to be good enough for that." She sighed at his word choice - nutjobs, really? - but was quickly distracted by the feel of his hand around hers. A smile broke on her lips at his promise. "I think I'll take you up on that. You owe everyone an apology." And oh, she'd relish watching him ask for it from Aymeric.

 (Khit’li Mewrilah) He sighed heavily, "Okay," he replied heavily, "In all fairness though he could call me a bastard, too," he defended, "Just not "tall blue bastard" - more like "dark, devilishly handsome bastard." And you're already better than all that - don't let those stuffy Elezen with their ridiculous notions make you feel otherwise." To the last, as she took him up on his offer of apology, he grimaced, but the expression lightened, "I'll just write them all a letter," he shrugged.

hahaha khit’li can’t write hahahaha

this was totally done in august but i am terrible and forgot to post it

maybe i was thinking we’d get more pictures? cause i only had... exactly... three. a good hunk of this was done in discord BUT WE HAD SUCH HIGH HOPES OF COMPLETING THE SCENE ALL IN ONE GO 

such high hopes

the end