#while estinien has been 100% in it since in from the cold i think this is the moment he's like 'okay it's not just me and i'm sure of that'

[coldshrugs]

see you in the morning

pairing: io laithe / estinien varlineau word count: 2k note: endwalker spoilers. io is not handling things well :') you'll never guess who goes to comfort her :o)

Old Sharlayan holds its breath.

Most nights, the chilly island city continues its quiet bustling straight through to morning. Scholars drift from early-evening lectures to late-night research clubs or public laboratories, babbling excitedly about the latest research, innovation, or gossip. Those with less rigid schedules wander to the nearest patch of grass or unused table at the Last Stand with a pile of books in tow. Structured or lax, their perpetual search for knowledge is the very heartbeat of the city. But tonight, the pulse has all but stopped.

The lack of bubbling chatter and foot traffic casts an eerie pall over the city. It reaches all the way down to Scholars’ Harbour, where Io sits alone, on one of the long stone piers reaching out into the sea.

Thousands of people huddle in their homes with friends and loved ones as they wait for daylight, and for the Ragnarok’s first–and only–flight.

The weight of their expectation is suffocating.

Waves murmur against the stone below, the only sound save the few foreign sailors on the next pier over, bound to their work regardless of the state of the world. Neither is loud enough to distract her racing mind.

Io pulls her knees to her chest, cursing the inability to become as small as she feels. Every soul on this star, whether they know it or not, is now her responsibility, an obligation that echoes back to a time beyond time. And she chose it. Before she even knew it was her burden to carry, she chose it. She chooses it, because who else would? Who else could bear it? Is it not enough that her loved ones must sacrifice so much due to proximity and circumstance? It has to be her, for she would not wish this on anyone else.

If only she could curl into herself completely. Tightly enough to blink out of existence, like a dark singularity.

She’d take everything else with her.

There’s no resolution in that line of thinking.

Somewhere out there, in the expanse, is the replication of a little girl with a very human soul–perhaps not fractured, as the souls of those on the Source and its shards, but something that was never allowed to be whole. They aren't so different, not really. Only part of a part of something remembered or imagined, allowed to live but not entitled to life. Not by those who came before them. For this, Io understands the Meteion: why wouldn’t annihilation be the answer to dead world after dead world? It must seem like kindness to a being who has never experienced adversity.

Tears, injury, death, things Meteion experienced secondhand: Io has suffered through–and dealt–her fair share of them all. What pain has Meteion seen that Io has not lived?

Her hands ball into fists, nails digging into her palms. She feels manic, unable to rein in the oscillation between anger, guilt, and fear. There is the urge to scream, or cry, or drop into the frigid water below and swim and swim and swim.

But a figure moves at the edge of her vision, walking briskly in her direction.

Now another feeling begs to be acknowledged. Relief? Endearment? A mixture of both at being found, and by him, perhaps.

Still, against her threadbare senses, this feels like an ambush.

Estinien says nothing as he approaches. His steps slow as if trying not to scare a wounded animal. He offers an awkward smile. Io tries to mirror it, hoping he sees a shred of warmth in the tight purse of her lips.

He is handsome in this light, in his half-laced boots and untucked shirt billowing in the chilly coastal wind. The world is ending, and she can’t help noticing his beauty. It’s ludicrous.

“Who sent you?”

His short huff resembles a laugh. “I need a motive to check on you?” When she doesn’t answer, he sighs. “Y’shtola saw you down here from the Annex. She and Thancred thought to come, but I asked them to stay. Everyone’s turning in for the night. I thought you might appreciate the less intrusive option.”

“By all means, intrude. Once the solitude is broken, it hardly matters by whom.”

His brow knits as he studies the carved stones that make up the pier. He turns, shifting his weight. She can feel him wondering if this was unwise.

“I’m sorry, that was unkind. I’m just… overwhelmed–” Io takes a deep breath, embarrassed by the confession before she makes it– “and afraid. Please don’t go.”

Estinien sways in her periphery, stepping closer before squatting beside her. He looks out into the quiet marina, carefully avoiding her half-slumped form. False privacy, but she’ll take the small mercy.

“You needed to get away. I can understand that.”

“I couldn’t breathe in there. Everyone is watching me. They look at me like I’m dying, or like I’m killing them myself.”

“For every person placing blame at your feet, ten others believe in this asinine plan. As I do.”

“You think we can do it? Truly?” she asks, looking up into the great expanse. The stars blink against the endless blue, and for once, the sight makes her feel cold instead of curious. “What if I–”

“You have to, Io.” His tone invites no debate, but there is a melancholy that matches her own. “You will figure it out no matter the cost, because you must.”

Io nods. Her eyes sting. She closes them to keep the tears at bay as long as possible. He is right, of course. Somewhere deep in her soul, the flame of her faith–in herself, in her friends, and in those who paved this way for her–burns as brightly as ever. She has to save them.

“But you will not be alone. We are with you, of course. We’ll give our all to see it through, if that’s what it takes.”

“Gambling your lives for a promise I made, for my mistakes… I can’t bear to think about losing them.” She risks a glance in Estinien’s direction, but his eyes never leave the gently rolling sea. “Or losing you.”

The barest of smiles, one of the little ones he tries to hide with a bowed head. He rubs the back of his neck, sending a cascade of loose hair over his shoulder.

Her chest clenches.

The well of affection she holds for him is muddy these days; for years, they’ve operated with platonic, amiable ease, flitting in and out of each other’s lives but always reuniting as the closest of friends. But since her time in the First, they have been nearly inseparable.

Estinien is her family, but unlike what she feels for Thancred, Urianger, or G’raha, he is not her brother. He evokes a distinct tenderness, gives life to a long-dormant, selfish hope within her heart, and he does it without trying.

“If we don’t try, all is lost.” He falls against the stone with a quiet groan and nudges her with an elbow. “This pessimism doesn’t become you. I have seen you stand against tremendous odds time and time again. I’ve heard tales of more things than I’ve seen. You may not always get it right, I may not always agree, but you do the impossible. What makes this any different?”

Io reflects on the past year (gods, has it been that long?). The burning skies, the horrible transformations, and the aether-depleted souls who will never see another lifetime on this beautiful star, all because she fell for a madman’s power play. She condemned them to this fate. 

She reaches further into her memory, to the unsure adventurer stepping foot into the Waking Sands, and her induction into the inner circle of these secretive upstarts she’s grown to call family. She’s been nothing more than a curse upon them. Thancred’s aether, Y’shtola’s sight, Urianger’s conscience, Minfilia’s life. What might they have avoided without her?

Haurchefant would be alive if she had stayed out of his life.

Since the day she left Dalmasca, death and destruction have been her shadow. As ruinous and loyal as Dalamud, a black dog she pretends she can abandon if only it would forget her scent.

She watches Estinien again, silver in the moonlight. His hands are clasped, hanging between long legs that dangle close to the water below. Like the water, he looks relaxed on the surface. Like the water, there is an undercurrent only the experienced can see.

His thumb worries a circle into the palm of his other hand. His shoulders are tense, hidden by his slightly curved posture. If anyone could understand why this is different, it’s him. For all his courage, he has seen the black dog too.

“It’s different,” Io swallows, “because it’s everything.”

Estinien looks back. His stare is hard. “And so are you.”

Once more, he leaves no room for debate. He speaks as if stating the obvious, citing a fact she should already know.

Io blinks, so awestruck by his candor, she has to look away. Her tumultuous thoughts now spin in his direction, unable to focus on more than this sudden vulnerability. What does it mean that sharing these doubts with him is the most comfortable she’s felt in days? What does it mean that she aches to reach for his hand?

His eyes dart over her face, never lingering on one feature too long. There is something overly controlled about it. Lately, she has employed the same tactic when trying not to stare at his lips…

If she leaned over and kissed him, would he push her away? Could they still be friends?

A selfish hope indeed. But a small thing in her mind whispers, “maybe after…”

If there is an “after” to be had.

She releases her bundled limbs and stands, stretching to relieve the long-ignored ache in her back.

“Come on,” she beckons. “We should at least try to rest before we travel to the edge of space and time.”

Io’s tension deflates as they walk to the annex, pressed under the weight of her exhaustion. They go in comfortable silence, half an arm’s length apart. There is something between them she longs to touch, but doesn’t dare. She has the moonlight in his hair, his half-smile, and his steadfast faith in her. That is enough.

That is more than enough.

The Baldesion Annex is dark, like the rest of the city. The lobby is empty. Not an Annex attendant, not a Scion. Estinien does not share her surprise. How persuasive must he have been to ensure no one disturbed her return? Io watches him move across the room with deliberate steps. He holds open the door that leads to the nap rooms and gestures with his head for her to go ahead of him. The little smile is back.

She returns it, and this time it’s genuine.

They pass Estinien’s door. Io’s room is around the corner and down the next corridor, and he makes the full journey.

They pause at her door.

“Thank you for keeping my head on straight.”

“Someone must. You would not hesitate to do the same for me.” He shrugs. And then his hand is on her upper arm, giving a reassuring squeeze. He pulls her into his space.

Her arms thread under his, hands pressing into his back. She rests her cheek on his shoulder, breathes him in. The sharp edge of her anxiety sloughs away, lost in the steady pressure of his arms around her.

They have never hugged like this. They have never been this close.

Io closes her eyes, squeezes him more tightly, and smiles when she can feel his erratic heartbeat through the firm press of their chests. In this moment, with his hands resting at her neck and waist, with his chin against her neck, skin to skin, she cannot imagine his denial. Perhaps it isn't a stretch to assume he feels this too.

The corridor lights grow dim around them. Io pays them no mind, content to stand in the dark until morning, held by the man she yearns for, the man she never thought she would.

But she yawns, and he steps away, hands on her shoulders. Another squeeze. Another scan of her face before his grey eyes focus on hers, like he's making a final decision.

“Tomorrow,” Estinien says. The single word is a promise. Whatever happens, whatever they find, he will make sure Io gets it done.

“Tomorrow.” She nods, slipping into the room as the memory of his touch crystallizes in her mind. Her limbs are heavy as she climbs into the too-small bed, but the weight has lifted.

She can breathe.

[roegadynroost]

FFXIVwrite 2023 - 11 Once Bitten, Twice Shy

It felt like it had been an eternity since Thyn'a had last returned to the Fallen Snows. The heart was as warm as she remembered, but his missing presence rendered the room in a terrible cold. Haurchefant had been a gift, a friend she'd wished she'd appreciated so much more when she had the chance.

Alas the looming threat of the dragon Nidhogg lingered heavily, making her impatient. She couldn't sit an wallow, nay, at the moment she was pacing the stone room. Alphinaud had asked her there 

Speak of the devil.

"Forgive me, that took longer than expected." The young Elezen paraded through the doors, managing to open and close them gracefully despite his hands being full. Thyn'a raised her brows at the mugs he toted in, she couldn't couldn't help but gawp at the steaming vessels.

"...You seem puzzled." Alphinaud noted, eyes looking up at her from beneath his neat bangs before finally following her inquisitive gaze. "Oh, these? I thought something warming might not go amiss." 

Thyn'a found her chest twisting at the gesture, she'd not yet gotten over the tampering of her drink in Falcon's nest during the conference and it gave her not shortness of anxiety to think of someone else preparing her food and drink.

"It was not all that long ago that we sat here, you and I. In our very own “Falling Snows,” as Lord Haurchefant called it. I still struggle to believe he has gone. ..." Alphinaud began to chatter as he was wont. Lamenting the lost of Ysalye, regretting his foolishness, all the mistakes that were made along the way. She as at a loss of what to say, but thank the Fury, the boy had no shortness of words for when she was left with nothing positive to say. Her eyes held a bitterness as she listened, faces of her allies in their final moments flashing through her minds eyes, their memories almost tangible as she imagined them before her.

"Ser Aymeric and his forces will do what they believe must be done. That is their choice to make. Yet even if Ser Aymeric is willing to forsake Estinien, I am not. We must fight for him, for he is our friend and ally. We may struggle, we may fail, but we must try." Alphinaud spoke with determination, and even in her solemn mood, she was pulled from the ghosts before her.

"We will find a way to save him." Thyn'a spoke at last, mirroring his conviction. "We must." She would not see another of her companions lost to this war. Not while she she could yet save them. To do less would be a disservice to those they had lost.

Thyn'a moved from her spot standing, taking a seat and motioning to another as she grabbed one of the mugs and slowly swishing the liquids around. Tentatively she took a sip, the warmth of the hot chocolate spreading through her. It was comforting, and she let a soft sigh leave her through her nose, as a familiar coziness set in. Her two-tones eyes watched as Alphinaud too sat and took a drink, also seemingly finding comfort.

After sitting in silence for half a bell, finally Alphinaud spoke up again, sharing his anxieties. It was sometimes easy to forget he was still so young for all his lofty goals, but not here, like this with them both spilling their souls.

"Thank you, Thyn'a." Alphinaud looked a bit sheepish. "It is unfair of me to unburden myself in this manner, time after time, but I am glad that you permit me nonetheless. You are my true friend and ally."

"Anytime my friend. We will get through this, together." Thyn'a promised. 

Authors note: Note 100% happy with this and didn't edit, but it's done so yay. Based on the CS in the quest "Causes and Costs".

[the-werewithal]

I promised myself i wouldn’t make a whole party of warriors of light but then i did anyway. Behold! A whole pack of wols:

Raelha Redorah

Wol Prime. A Miqo’te NIN/DRG and the warrior you call if you need to hide a body. The backbone of the party

She grew up an orphan in limsa and has been having a bad time ever since. She had a daughter at 16, but an act of random violence took her away. On the outside she’s put together and stoic, but full of the most bitter cold rage on the inside. She’s long time friends with Y’shtola, while Estinien is one of the only people who sees just how furious she is. They find some kind of peace and absolution in each other’s arms. Unfortunately, the other person who sees through her cool exterior is Zenos. She hates melodrama and so refuses to admit that she 100% reciprocates the rivalry.

Dornrael Thorndotta

A roegadyn WRR/DRK and the sexiest woman to ever rock full plate armour. She’s the warrior you call when you need help moving for the third time this month. The leader of the party.

Shes the physical embodiment of oldest daughter syndrome with five younger sisters. Once she had a fling with Merlwyb but called it off out of professionalism, and years later they still sometimes think of what might have been. Charismatic, confident, and optimistic, she firmly believes everyone is good on the inside. She recommended Ilberd to Alphinaud. The bloody banquet shakes her to her core. She and Artoirel try to out Responsible Oldest Child each other and accidentally fall in love. She’s such a good leader that she ultimately taps out of the Scions after Stormblood to be a commander in the Alliance full time, and the future Lady Fortemps.

Beatrix de LaRoune.

A BRD/AST hyur, and Definitely Not on the run from heresy charges. The warrior you call when you need a shoulder to cry on. The heart of the party.

She grew up in ishgard and was training to become a knight when false heresy charges destroyed her whole family. She fled to Gridania and became a travelling bard, too wounded and afraid to ever settle down. She’s kind, passionate, and full of feelings. She was very close with Minfilia. While heavensward was a healing experience, and she and Aymeric pinned terribly for each other, it was all too much. Not until Doma’s liberation does she start to feel like she doesn’t need to run anymore. Hien gives her a home to return to and they love each other dearly. She’s a hopeless romantic.

Gia

A Vierra all-rounder turned MCH, she’s an ADHD having youth who is loving this whole ‘saviour of the star’ thing. The warrior you call for a night on the town. Shes the baby of the party and the resident trouble maker.

Adopted by a middling Ul’dahn merchant, she was a child prodigy at just about everything but so easily bored, she never stuck with any of it. A disappointment to her mother who expected her to go into academia. She drifts through life, just happy to tag along with the wols who know what they’re doing, until the Bloody Banquet. In Ishgard she takes up machinist with never before seen drive, inventing new and terrifying weapons on the daily. She’s somewhere between apprentice/little sister/unstoppable menace to Cid and Nero. Ace but she hasn’t worked that out yet. She starts to stagnate after heavensward, feeling bored and lost once more. Until Zenos shows up. She fully embraces him as her arch-enemy, until the bitter end. She hates him so much it goes all the way around to not hate at all.

Put together with duct tape and a lot of luck, they just about manage to save the star.