#yeah it's fine said moro'a

[morocosmos]

Febuwhump Day 5 - "That’s Gonna Scar”

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Characters/Relationships: Warrior of Light, Tataru Taru Content/trigger warnings: None

Continues from here

“Come in,” he wanted to say, but Tataru’s eyes were wide as she stared at him in horror. “Moro’a – what in the Twelves’ names happened to your hands?” she asked.

Gods be damned – he’d hoped it would be too dark for her to notice. “My hands will be fine,” he answered. “Come in and I’ll explain,” he answered, opening the door wider to let her in.

“You can sit on the bed, I don’t mind,” he added, locking the door once more before making his way over to where Tataru had seated herself. “Thank you for taking the time, Moro’a. I truly mean it,” she said softly.

Moro’a nodded, then gestured at his wrists. “About these – the Crystal Braves…had me restrained in the sultana’s chambers after Teledji revealed his hand, before bringing me over to the banquet to frame the Scions,” he began. The scholar did his best to speak neutrally as he told Tataru everything he could remember about what happened to the rest of their friends; practical, like explaining the details of an inspection gone awry to a senior assessor. It made things easier for him as well, putting distance between himself and the events.

“Twins preserve,” Tataru whispered when he’d finished. Her pearlescent eyes shone, and she paused to rub them with her arm before taking a deep breath. “...’Tis worse than I thought then…but even so, thank you for telling me.” Her morose expression suddenly became a slight frown as she looked at Moro’a’s hands. “Oh heavens, weren’t you going to do something about those? No more explaining, not until you’ve tended to them,” she asserted, surprising Moro’a with her insistence.

The Keeper complied, reaching for his folded robes. For a small blessing, the Braves had failed to discover the hidden pocket situated on the inner left side, padded and thus further concealed by the thick material. Drawing it open, he removed a folded square of thin parchment and a tiny quill and ink set.

“Oh,” Tataru exclaimed softly. “The pocket you asked me to make all those moons ago…”

“Which I must thank you for again now,” Moro’a replied, surprising himself with a small, if weary smile. Even so, there was little parchment to go around, and even less ink; he would have to use both sparingly. Uncapping the ink bottle, he carefully dipped the nib into liquid and drew a small glyph, keeping it simple to minimise the amount used.

He could feel Tataru watching him intently. “That’s the arcane geometry for Physick, is it not?” she inquired. “It’s so small…”

“It’ll be enough to keep my wrists from getting worse.” Cupping the glyph with his hands and drawing the necessary amount of aether, Moro’a activated the spell with quick mutter and channelled it towards the burns, sighing as the restorative aether washed over the raw skin. Once it was done, he inspected his wrists – the burns had darkened, and felt far less tender as he tested a few of them with his forefinger. “There. They’ll have completely healed in a few days,” he said.

But Tataru had not stopped frowning. “The marks will still scar for sure,” she commented, surprising the scholar with her accuracy. “Is that…will you be alright with that?”

Her question gave Moro’a pause. He’d not thought to consider whether the scarring would even matter – surely it wouldn’t, he thought. He almost always wore gloves together with his robes, and given they were to bunker down in Coerthas for the next…however long, he was guaranteed to wear similar clothing for the foreseeable future.

Still, to bear a visible reminder of the banquet, and all that had transpired…

“I will be,” Moro’a half-lied. Like as not, he would much rather be prepared for potential dangers ahead, and there was no telling when he might next be able to acquire additional materials.