x-eternalmagic - Tumblr blog

x-eternalmagic · 5 months

Text

put it in quotations

so!!! my friend @lysanderfels wrote something very sweet of their boy lysander and my baby rowan recently over here (read it!!!! lev's writing is so good!!!!) and i had something else bumping around in my brain for rowan as the non-wol for lysander. i ended up with the below!! hope yall like it <3

He’s not exactly sure of what to do with himself, now that he’s settled.

Which is a very approximate feeling, all things considered. In the quiet moments of his day, Rowan sometimes wonders if he’ll float off the ground and into the glimmering sky above, completely untethered. He feels it most keenly when attempting to sleep, when standing at the Exarch’s shoulder as the Crystarium’s settlement council drones on and on in their regular civics meetings. The notes he takes physically are abysmal, so he is grateful that he can at least remember each word said.

Settled is a relative term, as the out of body moments are frequent. So are the times when his mind drifts back home, to the other Scions who must be overcome with worry. To his friend, whose arrival in Norvrandt is imminent, or so the Exarch claims. Rowan tries not to dwell on it, focusing instead on the duty Captain Lyna has tasked him with.

The Exarch is as highly secretive as Y’shtola had warned, though Rowan certainly has his suspicions about more than a few things that have caught his attention. But instead of giving voice to the questions balanced delicately on his tongue, he simply watches as the Exarch pores over tome after tome, sometimes running to various parts of the city to fetch things for the hooded figure. And sometimes, when the captain asks it of him, Rowan chastises the city’s leader for missing a meal or for not resting.

And while the Exarch is certainly decent company (their idle conversations are enjoyable), Rowan wishes he was doing more than standing in place. He should be busy doing something--anything--else, rather than holding his position as the days go on. He often wishes that one of the other Scions stranded in the First would visit the Crystarium more than they do, but he recognizes that they’re all busy in their corners of the world, and the one he’d consider his closest friend mistrusts the secretive Exarch. And Rowan wouldn’t want to suddenly be so selfish. So his mind wanders and more and more he wonders if this is all just a dream.

It’s a poor one, all things considered.

He’s seen two summers in the First--one as a lowly guard for the Crystarium and then one as the Exarch’s aide--before things stop standing still for the most part.

Rowan had, at the Exarch’s request, been delivering a package to the Ostall Imperative and as he had not been given leave to use one of the Crystarium’s mounts it was a longer trip than usual. So it is late in the day (relatively speaking, of course) when he passes by Captain Lyna’s post to report in, and he chances to hear the tail end of the conversation she’s having with one of the men stationed with her.

“...last of these guests of his, I hope.” Lyna lets out a weary breath, waving away the guard before Rowan reaches her. Her ears twitch as she catches the sound of his footsteps and turns fully to him. “Speak of the sinner--Sergeant Ul’tyr, you’ve returned. The Exarch’s delivery, was it?”

Rowan clenches his fists tightly, saluting her. “Aye, captain. As our lord instructed.”

“Good.” Lyna watches him for a moment, before letting out a breath and closing her eyes. Whenever she gets this sort of look on her face, Rowan can expect her to speak more frankly than usual--she’d worn it when he had been given his special assignment, and the duties it entailed, and even more when she would speak with him about her concerns regarding the strangers who continued to turn up on the Crystarium’s doorstep. So it’s no surprise when Lyna goes on to say, “I assume the gentleman we welcomed to the city is perhaps a friend of yours, much like the others.”

This piques Rowan’s interest, naturally. There was only one person that he was anticipating the arrival of, but there had been no movement on that front--or, at least, he knew another summoning would happen soon, but Rowan hadn’t anticipated it being today.

He tries to hide his interest as he says, “Perhaps, though I may need a description to be sure.”

Lyna crosses her arms, shifting her weight to one hip. “Elven. Long, dark hair, pale skin.”

Rowan feels his heart leap into his throat--Lysander. There was no one else it could be. “But--he was here? Not in the city?”

The captain hums. “He came from the forest beyond, looking somewhat lost, and I stopped him here at the gate. And the Exarch came hurrying along to usher him into the Crystarium.”

“I…I see.” Rowan frowns, trying to puzzle out this information. This seemed to be different from what had happened to himself and the others; Rowan had been mentally logging the Exarch’s progress as the days went on, but he hadn’t realized the Exarch would try again today. Perhaps he wanted to give Lysander privacy if it once again went awry. Or perhaps…perhaps Lysander had made it to the First properly. After a moment of thought, Rowan offers Captain Lyna another salute. “I will take my leave, captain, to return to my post with the Exarch.”

“Please do, sergeant. And please let him know that I wish to have a word with him this evening.”

“Yes, captain.” The words are hardly out of his mouth before Rowan’s turned sharply on his heel and stepped out toward the Crystarium. In moments he’s sprinting harder than he has all day.

The Exarch is returning to the Tower when Rowan reaches the Exedra, a slight spring in his step. He turns as he hears Rowan slowing his gait, breathing heavily when he finally comes to a stop.

“Is it--” Rowan manages between gasps of air.

“It is.” The Exarch holds up a hand, trying to calm the guard a little. “But he’s only just gotten his room--”

Rowan doesn’t let the Exarch finish, instead taking off toward the housing district at a sprint once again and ignoring the Exarch calling after him.

The master of suites at the Pendants--who Rowan had befriended shortly after being given his own quarters there--seems surprised to find the red-haired Miqo’te so assertive in his request, but he gives Rowan the room number without much fuss when Rowan says the newest tenant is a friend. So he finds himself in front of the unassuming door not but a few minutes later.

He knocks on the door, struggling to get his breathing under control when Lysander appears in the doorway.

Lysander tilts his head, leaning forward. After a moment he asks, “Rowan?”

The relief that rushes through Rowan’s body leaves him almost weak in the knees, and he smiles widely for the first time in ages. He straightens, and the only answer he gives is pushing the door wide enough to throw his arms around Lysander’s chest.

“H-Hey--”

“You’re here!” Rowan can’t contain the elation in his tone. Maybe it’s the boredom of his post, maybe it’s how much he feels like he’s been at a standstill, but he can’t help but be thrilled. “Gods, it’s good to see you.”

When Rowan finally releases Lysander, the Elezen is still blinking at him, confusion etched on his brow. After a moment, Lysander says, “Did you…I mean--you look different.”

“Oh!” Rowan nods. “Right--I’d forgotten. I cut my hair, among other things. It’s…”

“The Crystal Exarch said it had been two summers for you here…”

“Yes, it has been. And I wasn't liking the braid once I got settled.” Rowan lets out a breath, lips curving into a lop-sided smile. “I'm happy that you're here, though. Properly here.”

Something crosses Lysander’s face--a mix of unpleasant emotions flickering across his features as fast as quicksilver--and he averts his gaze. “Right…”

Rowan hesitates for a moment, not entirely sure what to make of the strange mood Lysander is in. He shifts nervously on his feet, rubbing the back of his head. “I--I’m sorry. I barged right in when I heard you were here, and right when you’re still adjusting.”

“It’s alright.” Lysander tilts his head, expression turning both thoughtful and just the slightest bit morose. “...Just. You were called only a few weeks ago, for me. So I have to get used to the idea that it’s been two years for you--along with everything else I’ve found out today.”

Rowan blinks, brows drawing together on his forehead. He’d almost forgotten the difference in the flow of time between Eorzea and Norvrandt, even though he had been present many times when the Exarch used the crystal pane in the Ocular to see current events in the Source. It was so distant now, and hard to reconcile.

It hadn’t occurred to him that it might be the same in the reverse, not really. And he knew quite well how Lysander was under stress like this.

Rowan opens and closes his mouth once or twice, struggling to find something to say. It was like something had suddenly built itself between he and Lysander--or maybe it was there all along, and Rowan had just been too blind to notice it.

And suddenly he remembers the way things had been when Rowan had been called, and he sees he was much more eager than he probably needed to be.

His ears twitch, laying a little bit flat against his head. He nods. “Still, I apologize. I…I should let you get some rest.” Rowan backs toward the door, looking up to meet Lysander’s gaze. “My room is below yours a floor, and towards the far side of the building. The manager can tell you the number--if you feel the need to drop by.”

“Alright.” Lysander does grace him with a gentle smile, something softening in his gaze. “It is good to see you, old friend.”

Rowan feels the smile coming back to his face, and he nods. “Sleep well.” He says, slipping out of the door and back down the hallway to the Crystarium proper.

A few minutes later, Rowan returns to the Ocular to find the Exarch facing his crystal pane and surveying the landscape of Amh Araeng. He turns when Rowan enters, nodding as Rowan salutes him.

“I’m sure he was quite happy to see you.” The Exarch says, smile soft. “Given how you have described your friendship with him, I’m certain Lysander was relieved to see you hale and hearty.”

Rowan nods, trying to hide the heavy feeling in his chest. “Aye, I think it put him at ease, at least a little. As for your package to the Imperative--”

“Captain Lyna informed me it was delivered. Thank you, sergeant.”

Rowan nods, trying not to let his mind wander as the Exarch launches into talking through the next stages of what would save Norvrandt, now that Hydaelyn’s Champion was in the First.

He knew how much Lysander hated being the Warrior of Light. Maybe hate is a strong word for it, but Rowan could tell that certain kinds of stress were not things Lysander liked being burdened with on a regular basis. And Rowan--perhaps to his own detriment--had done what he could to help shoulder the burden. He wasn’t chosen by Hydaelyn, but he wanted to make enough of a difference anyway.

He did his best to not burden people with things--after all, how could Rowan be someone Lysander could count on to be a reminder of more peaceful days if all Rowan did was bring up yet more stressors? Lay his own burdens on someone who had enough to deal with as it was? Lysander had Aymeric (and perhaps a certain Doman lord, if Rowan remembered it correctly) so it was not as though Rowan was the sole friend who could be an escape from being Hydaelyn’s chosen. But Rowan had certainly been there the longest, and had not needed to let anyone in, really. At least not that people knew, except for Estinien (and even then that had not been intentional). And the Exarch seemed to be prying more lately, but Rowan wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Lysander seemed to appreciate everything Rowan did, at least after the bloody banquet in Ul’Dah. Before then, Rowan wasn’t sure how much Lysander could recall of any given event. Rowan hadn’t ever minded, content to follow almost like a shadow. He was never one for the limelight anyway.

He watches, standing beside Captain Lyna, as Lysander parts the Light above them in Holminster Switch. And he does what he’s always done best when citizens of the Crystarium ask if he saw the Warrior of Darkness’s face when night was returned--he deflects. Keeps the attention on something else. And feels the weight of so many gazes on his back.

As he stands at the Exarch’s shoulder the morning that Lysander and the twins agree to rescue Minfilia, he thinks back to the startled reaction his own arrival in the First had caused--the confused and concerned way the Exarch had welcomed him. And he thinks over Lysander’s off hand comment about the time separated being so vastly different. And Rowan doesn’t think he can say it.

He throws himself into the preparations that Captain Lyna has him assist with, trying to push everything to the back recesses of his mind the way he usually did. And at the very least, chasing after Thancred and the others on the path to Il Mheg serves as a break from the spiral his mind was going down.

Rowan isn’t used to traveling clothes now, and a part of him misses the uniform he’s gotten so used to wearing. But the Exarch apparently chose well, as everything fits him like a glove.

The group pauses in Lydha Lran for the night before striking out for Urianger’s residence. And while he certainly feels the need for sleep weighing down his body, Rowan’s mind is racing. So he slips from the dark room he is sharing with Thancred and Lysander, gracefully jumps from ledge to ledge until he is at the tip of the roof of the village’s main building. He sits with a whump, staring out over the flowered hills with eyes squinting against the Light above.

This is where Lysander finds him in the wee morning hours. Rowan hadn’t seen him leave the building or round the corner to reach the roof, and his ears only twitch when he hears the footsteps behind him. He shifts, making room for Lysander to join him.

“...I’m glad to have you with me here.” Lysander says eventually. “I was wondering if you would be forever stuck to the Exarch’s side.”

Rowan huffs a tiny laugh. “I know it seems unlikely given how little I’ve been able to get away, but the intention was for me to be there only until you arrived. Or, at least that was the Exarch’s plan.”

Lysander’s mouth twitches with the ghost of a frown. “He certainly likes to plan things out.”

“He does.” Rowan finally glances over, briefly. “...He means well, I will say in his defense. Even when he’s infuriatingly secretive.”

Lysander lets out a breath. “You say that, but still…”

Rowan can’t help the snort that’s pulled from his throat. “You and Y’shtola are really cut from similar cloth.” He mumbles, grateful when Lysander either doesn’t hear or decides not to comment.

They fall into another bout of silence, which for once Rowan doesn’t want to break. He’s gotten even more quiet here in the First, he’s realized, prone to holding his tongue even on things he used to speak up about.

“...Has it been okay?” Lysander asks. When Rowan turns and gives him a confused frown, he adds, “Your post, I mean. Are you just…standing there with the Exarch all day?”

“...Mostly.” Rowan lets out a breath. “You know--” And he stops himself, not sure the train of thought was something he should really say. It edged too closely to something Rowan was forever reluctant to voice.

“Know what?”

“...Nevermind.”

Lysander makes a displeased noise, and when Rowan turns he finds the Elezen pursing his lips and giving him a sour look.

Rowan’s eye dart briefly away, almost nervous. “...What?”

Lysander mulls over his thoughts for a long moment, mouth opening and staying ajar before hesitantly saying, “Rowan…you can tell me what’s on your mind. If you want.”

Rowan’s brows draw together instantly. “Huh?”

“You always were asking if I was alright, what was on my mind, before--before you were called.” Lysander shifts, tilting his head. “And when you were standing with the Exarch those meetings where we discussed saving the First…you looked like your mind was a million miles away.”

Rowan swallows, turning away. As much confirmation as anything of the statement.

“...Are you okay?”

That draws out a slightly derisive laugh from Rowan’s throat. More harsh than Rowan would want it to be, really, and he’s pretty sure Lysander must be taken aback by the sound.

“Given that the other Scions and I are practically nothing more than rather well solidified shades, that’s a relative term.” Rowan wets his lips, knowing he sounded much more angry than he meant to be. “...And we have other things to worry about.”

“Rowan.”

“It’s true--we’ve a Calamity to avert, the state of our souls doesn’t matter as much as that right now.” Rowan lets out a tiny breath. “The rest can be--I don’t know, kicked down the road for the moment.”

Lysander clicks his tongue, and looks more irritated when Rowan turns to him. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Rowan frowns, sighing through his nose.

“We didn’t talk as much after Alphinaud went off to Garlemald--and even then, I hardly saw you during the peace talks in Doma.” Lysander’s expression softens a little. “With you and the others gone…I’ve been worried. And--thinking a lot myself. You really do a lot for me, and I hardly know much more than the others about you in particular. …You can tell me if something’s on your mind, you know. Or if something’s happened.”

Rowan studies his friend’s face for a long moment, expression falling a tiny bit. After a pause, he says at last, “...You don’t need to worry about my troubles in addition to your own. I’ll be fine.”

“But where’s the fairness in you taking on so much of my burdens if you aren’t open with me?” Lysander pushes. “I’m not so delicate that I can’t handle things on my own, I don’t need to be coddled.”

“I know--”

“And yet you refuse to leave me be. You are quite the mother hen, you know.” Lysander smirks as Rowan’s ears go back and his tail swipes back and forth in irritation.

Another silence passes between them as Rowan wrestles with himself. With the thoughts he tries so hard to keep from the forefront of his mind.

“...It’s hard for me.” Rowan says quietly. “You…are the first person in a very long time who I could count on never vanishing. So I don’t know how to, I think. Talk about it.”

Lysander doesn’t answer for a moment, before at last replying, “Well…know that I’m here when you’re ready, I suppose.”

Rowan finds a hesitant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and he nods. He doesn’t exactly feel that ready for it, but…

“I’ll try.”

[ Several weeks down the line, they’re taking a small break in the middle of the day in the shade of a tree in Rak’tika.

Rowan has said a little more about his state of mind--how he felt bearing a surname that pointed to him being the Warrior of Darkness in the fae tongue, how the Exarch hadn’t known who he was when Rowan was called--and he feels a little better about being open.

He lets out a breath during a lull in their conversation, and says without thinking, “I slept with Estinien.”

Lysander makes an unflattering noise, and when Rowan looks over in concern, there’s water dribbling from his mouth and nose. After a moment to regain his composure, Lysander sucks in a breath and whispers, “Please don’t say such jokes while I’m drinking again, please.”

“...But it’s not a joke?”

Lysander stares at him.

“When I was helping Tataru in Kugane during the peace talks, he passed through town. And, well.” Rowan shrugs, feeling his cheeks color. “Things happened.”

“...Really?”

“Yes, really.”

Lysander frowns. “But Estinien--”

Rowan feels his face burning. “I know, but it’s hard to explain why, alright?!”

“...I had no idea he was even in Kugane.”

“You were too busy mooning over a certain Doman lord.”

Lysander shoves at Rowan’s shoulder, blushing furiously and trying to hide a smile. Rowan only throws his head back and laughs. ]

[ The two keep pace as they walk from the step leading up to the Crystal Tower to the Crystarium’s marketplace in silence.

Eventually, Lysander leans over a little and says in a hushed tone, “So, you and the Exarch--”

Rowan’s face is apple red in an instant. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

“I’m just curious!”

“I understand, but it’s really nothing serious--”

“I’ve seen him staring at you like he’s forgotten that he doesn’t wear his hood anymore lately, I was half wondering if you two were already together.”

“Together?!”

“Well, I mean, he’s been staring. And with your post as his aide and personal guard, and how you treated him after we found him in the Tempest--”

Rowan makes a frustrated noise, certain he might as well just melt into the ground now. “D-Don’t you have your own relationship issues to worry about?”

“Now thankfully resolved, but that’s not what’s important anyway! You’ve been making fun for ages about what’s happening with me, and here you are--”

“By the Twelve shut up before someone hears you--!” ]

#my writing

3 notes · View notes