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risualto · 3 years

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A Thousand Embraces

Title: A Thousand Embraces Summary: Actually, it’s about ten very important first hugs, but Rihnkiki will hug the Scions a collective one thousand times if they’d allow her. Warnings: spoilers for the entirety of ARR, I guess, if that still matters to anyone in 2021. Notes: This fic was born courtesy of me constantly saying that Inky would be hugging NPCs if she could--particularly the Scions. Note that I left Alphinaud and Alisaie out. Alphinaud is the only one besides Urianger to hold out past the Castrum Centri incident and not give her permission to hug him because he’s, well, Alphinaud, and Rihnkiki didn’t get to know Alisaie until later. But the twins will get their hugs. In another story. Title is still from “1000 Words” from FFX-2. This story is a little less than 6k words, which is longer than my normal shorts, so please be prepared for that.

Yda

Leaving for Ul’dah, for her first real mission as a Scion, was perhaps the first time that Rihnkiki felt her shoulders straining since her the beginning of her practice with a bow. Though she wouldn’t let it stop her, she felt keenly the weight of being a part of something again for the first time since she left home. She had missed it—but she also felt a strange bit of anxiety.

Figuring out what all those feelings meant had taken her the better portion of the afternoon, but she found her answers as she stood on the doorstop of the Waking Sands. She was a part of this group now, but she was still an outsider. Everyone else had years and blood tying them together, but she, Rihnkiki Rihnki, was yet a new face among them, and she was worried about finding her place among people already bound together.

A challenge, yes, but not one that was insurmountable, either. She was sure they would come around, even the more taciturn among the Scions.

“Rihnkiki!” said a bright voice from behind her. Rihnkiki turned, mouth open slightly in surprise, but her expression quickly melted into a smile upon seeing that it was Yda, trailed by Papalymo, running towards her. If anyone in the Scions was reserved, Yda was assuredly the opposite. Rihnkiki had appreciated her enthusiasm from the moment they met, no matter how confusing the encounter.

“Yda! What is it?” she said, giving a short wave to Papalymo as well. He nodded in reply.

Hands on her hips, Yda stopped in front of her. “Oh, nothing, just—I know you’ve proven yourself plenty, or you wouldn’t be here, of course. But things in Ul’dah are really moving right now, and—” Her face scrunched up, visible even with her mask in place, as she seemed to struggle for words for a second. “Oooooh, I just…”

Rihnkiki closed her eyes as her smile grew, feeling touched that Yda was so concerned for her. But before she could even start to say, I’ll be alright, the air was crushed out of her lungs as Yda swept down to one knee and wrapped her arms tight around Rihnkiki’s shoulders.

“Yda!” chastised Papalymo. “You can’t just—just—embrace people whenever you feel like it, especially someone you don’t—”

And then Rihnkiki realized that in her surprise, she hadn’t actually returned the hug. Quickly, with equal intensity, she folded her arms around Yda, squishing one of her cheeks against the woman’s shoulder. “It’s alright,” she said. “And I will be alright. But thank you, Yda, very much.”

“You just make sure you and Thancred come back soon,” Yda said as she pulled back. “Now that we’re all on the same page, we simply have to spend more time together!”

(Rihnkiki held onto that promise, even as things figuratively and literally began to burn around her.)

Tataru

For all her usual grace and admirable skill at balancing too many books and papers, somehow, whatever Tataru was working on ended up on the floor as she stood up like a whirlwind. Rihnkiki gasped and ran to her side, hands going to Tataru’s shoulders as she almost stumbled.

“Oh, careful! Are you alright?” she asked (taking care to move her feet from a paper on the ground, already feeling a little bad about the fact that it now had a slight smear of dirt from her boots).

“I— Why, Miss Rihnkiki, it’s you we were all worried about!” Tataru responded, eyes beginning to shimmer. “When we heard what happened, I— Oh, goodness, I was so afraid for you! What a terrible first mission! If only we’d known…”

Rihnkiki wouldn’t deny that it had been a struggle, perhaps even a trying series of events. So much had happened so quickly, and so much of it seemed driven by cruel self-interest—only for her disappointment over that to be replaced by pity almost as quickly, realizing that perhaps those who had seemed uncaring were not truly themselves…

So many had been hurt. She had been in terrible danger. And Thancred was blaming himself for all of it, even though the responsibility had been equal between them, even though so much of it was out of their hands.

But in the end, it was alright. They all were. And when Rihnkiki saw Tataru’s hands fluttering around her, skittish as baby birds and unable to land, she couldn’t help laughing despite it all.

Tataru looked back at her, betrayed, as if she thought Rihnkiki was laughing at her, which simply wouldn’t do. “We made it just fine,” she said. “But I do appreciate your concern, truly, Tataru. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Tataru answered, almost on reflex. But something still felt a little bit stilted, or like the moment itself was waiting.

“Would you mind—No, I mean, would you like a hug, Tataru?” Rihnkiki asked. She kept her hands on Tataru’s shoulders carefully still, not meaning to pressure her one way or the other, for just as though she found hugs to be a great comfort, she knew quite well that some people preferred less physical reassurance.

Tataru’s mouth opened once, then closed, then opened once more. “Yes,” she said, a little softer. “Yes, I believe I would!”

Rihnkiki obliged, giving the slightly shorter lalafell the biggest, warmest hug she could manage. Tataru sighed as her arms came up to hold Rihnkiki in return, ever careful and conscientious of disturbing the bow still strapped to Rihnkiki’s back. “My friends call me Inky, you know,” Rihnkiki said cheerfully as her chin hooked over Tataru’s shoulder. “You’re quite welcome to, if you want!”

“I am very,” Tataru answered, “very glad you’re alive, Inky.”

Thancred

The idea of joining a Grand Company was…well, grand. Huge on a scale Rihnkiki certainly hadn’t anticipated when she came to Eorzea, but then again, she hadn’t expected much of this—not to connect with Hydaelyn Herself, not to become some kind of Crystal bearer, not to join this fight against creatures she knew would have been thought of as gods back home. But, she supposed, it was better this, to do something important for and with people she cared about, than to be wandering lost and still trying to find a purpose and a place.

She would find a way to make this decision, of course, but she needed to quiet her mind first. She must needs focus on what was important and not overthink it, attend the remaining remembrance ceremonies with a clear head.

The Waking Sands was bustling as always as Rihnkiki popped in, seeking out some company while she waited for the day of the next ceremony. But amidst the usual hum of chatter and purposeful rushing to and from missions, she noticed Thancred, all the more obvious for standing still with two walls at his back.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, tipping her head to the side as she searched his face. He’d noticed her approach, but until she spoke, his eyes still seemed distant, distracted, like he was watching something play out that wasn’t really there. Maybe he was scheming, she thought.

Thancred laughed. Or, almost—it was only a single chuckle, and though Rihnkiki thought it sounded bright, it was nothing like the way she’d heard him laugh before. Perhaps she simply didn’t know him that well, yet? “Quite,” he said, slyly quirking his lips. “Simply pondering where I might find those bigger knives we spoke of last. I do need to keep up with you, after all.”

Rihnkiki wasn’t sure, but the words sounded a little bitter on his tongue, and something about them made her stomach twist, even though there wasn’t really anything odd about them. “Thancred,” she said gently, and seeing the way he tensed up, pressing his shoulder blades back against the wall, Rihnkiki felt she might have hit the mark. “You know I don’t blame you, right?”

“You’re too kind, milady,” Thancred answered. Rihnkiki pouted at him. “If we’re truly to combat the threats to Eorzea, I must needs keep up.”

“You are,” Rihnkiki answered, stepping closer even as it meant she had to tip her head far back to hold his gaze. “Keeping up, I mean, and more.” As she drew up next to him, she slowly brought her arms up, trying to telegraph that she wanted to hug him and giving him ample time to move away. He didn’t, and Rihnkiki embraced him. Or, tried to—the height difference meant she was mostly holding his legs, head resting against one thigh (and realizing she could feel a concealed knife strapped to the outside of his leg, which shook her shoulders with a silent laugh).

Even despite the awkwardness, Thancred dropped a hand to her shoulder, thumb rubbing back and forth over her tunic as he slowly relaxed. Not entirely, it seemed, but a little.

Finally, Rihnkiki stepped back so that she could speak to him again without having to direct her words at his stomach. “Do be kind to yourself, Thancred. Even while you’re shopping for knives!”

His laugh sounded perfectly real as she skipped off.

Minfilia

Rihnkiki had suspected for some time that, despite Minfilia’s insistence that the Scions rest as often as possible between their duties, she might not be taking her own advice, not to the extent that she ought to. Mayhap it was presumptuous of Rihnkiki to say so, but she was rarely anything but honest, and it honestly seemed that the difficult position of being the Antecedent of the Scions and yet the youngest among them was binding Minfilia so tightly that a lesser woman would struggle to breathe.

Rihnkiki thought that Minfilia just hadn’t been able to take a deep breath in so long that this seemed natural. That was the thought that hurt like a bruise under her chest.

So, yes, Titan had become a problem, and, yes, Minfilia wished she would hurry to Y’shtola’s side in La Noscea to deal with it—but Rihnkiki had made the decision that this was most pressing.

She could see Minfilia’s surprise as she entered the solar, and the way that the hyuran woman immediately stood, face pinched in a frown as if something must be wrong, sent a little wave of cold through Rihnkiki. “Nothing’s the matter!” she said quickly, waving her hands in front of her, and Minfilia paused, halfway around the desk already. “Don’t worry. It’s just that…well, you did bid me provision well for the journey, and there’s a matter I might take care of before leaving. To set my mind at ease, I mean.”

“I see,” Minfilia said, clenched hand relaxing and coming to rest on the wood beside her. “Is there aught I might assist you with, then?”

Which was how, with some careful teasing, Rihnkiki had convinced Minfilia to join her in one of Thanalan’s comparatively verdant areas for a walk as she surveyed trees for elemental shards. Though, really, she wasn’t trying very hard. Most of her effort went towards pointing out things like where certain animals had lived or which flowers she liked most.

“You know,” she said, stopping as they crouched by a weak stream, “there’s a saffron plant near Little Ala Mhigo with some gorgeous flowers. Mayhap we could gather some for the solar once this Titan business is done.”

“Mayhap we could,” Minfilia answered, brushing some sand from her hands and gazing about the scenery. “…Rihnkiki,” she said eventually, an edge of knowing creeping into her voice.

“Call me Inky,” came the answer, not for the first time since they’d met.

Minfilia hesitated, but eventually proceeded. “Inky,” she said, voice not quite firm around the nickname, “you didn’t bring me here because you needed my help.”

“No, I didn’t,” Rihnkiki agreed. A moment filled with the gentle laughter of the water passed, and she elaborated. “Simply put, I understand how important it is not just to rest idly on occasion, but to get away. I’d know—you’re not alone feeling like an outsider…and being asked to lead anyway.”

Minfilia’s throat caught around a little exhale her thoughts almost visibly stumbled. “I had not considered that,” she admitted with a soft hum. “’Tis true that we have it in common.”

Rihnkiki answered with a little smile and a nod before turning towards a nearby cactus to search for shards again.

“Fufucha says these are going to bloom with huge, crimson flowers in a few weeks,” she said, excitement bubbling through her voice. “I imagine you’ve grown used to them, but I’m yet looking forward to seeing them for the first time.”

“They’re beautiful,” Minfilia confirmed, kneeling beside her to watch her work, ever-observant eyes taking in all she could. “And resilient, to have survived the Calamity unscathed.” Minfilia reached out and placed a hand on Rihnkiki’s shoulder, a little tentative, but hopeful, if the smile on her face was anything to go by. Rihnkiki smiled back, placing her hatchet down with one hand and returning the gesture with the other. She wasn’t sure which of them moved first, but it was the easiest thing in the world to push herself up on her tip-toes and give Minfilia a hug.

As far as she was concerned, this counted as provisioning. A full heart was key if she was going to stop another primal.

Cid

Truthfully, Rihnkiki had thought since her very first meeting with Marques that the man looked like he really just needed a good hug. She didn’t know, at the time, what he had seen in the war or the Calamity that followed, only that it hung over him like a raincloud, and that she wished somehow to ease that burden.

The truth was deeply more complicated, but Rihnkiki’s assessment that a hug was very much required remained completely unchanged. Realizing that a piece of himself had truly been missing seemed to have helped Cid find his resolve originally, but the closer they drew to the ruined vigil in search of the Enterprise, the more withdrawn and restless Cid seemed to become.

Which was why, despite Alphinaud’s displeasure at making camp early, Rihnkiki insisted on it. They weren’t to arrive at their destination until the next day regardless, and this really just meant they could get an earlier start. As the other adventurers she’d begged for aid and Alphinaud settled about the fires of their camp, making preparations for the night and what was to follow, Rihnkiki forwent setting up her own tent and bedroll to drop onto a log beside Cid.

“Are you alright?” she asked. Cid started, and Rihnkiki covered her mouth as she let slip a soft, Oop! But that he’d completely missed her approach only made her more certain he could use a friend.

“I…” Cid began, then faltered.

“It’s quite alright if you’re not, you know,” Rihnkiki added. I’m not. I will be, but not now.

Cid sighed, his breath hanging heavy and white in front of his face before another gust kicked up and scattered the mist. At least there was no blizzard tonight—Rihnkiki hoped the weather would hold. She watched as Cid picked up one of his hands, moving it slowly as if it were a tool he was yet learning. His fingers curled into his palm, then stretched, once, twice, and once more, before Cid dropped his head slightly.

“I suppose I’m a bit…lost,” he confessed. “I know bloody well this is where I’m meant to be heading. Everything else Alphinaud has said about me—my name, that I’m an engineer, that we were comrades—it all feels right, and yet…”

Rihnkiki reached over to put a hand on his leg, waiting for him to find the words.

“…The closer I come to finding answers, the more afraid I am, Rihnkiki.” His words were little more than the hum of the wind through the trees, and Rihnkiki strained to hear them, but her heart felt them like a physical blow. “The person I was and the person I am… How different are they? What if I can’t reconcile my past with this present? What if I can’t ever remember—or what if I do remember, but I can’t be that person?”

The more he spoke, the more Cid seemed to curl into himself, and finally, Rihnkiki had enough. She pushed against his hip, startling him enough to sit up properly, and Rihnkiki took immediate advantage to burrow herself against his side. Despite the fact that he was not cold against her through the layers of his coat, she could feel him shaking faintly and held tighter for it.

“Don’t worry,” she murmured, closing her eyes. “If this doesn’t work, then between you and me and Alphinaud, we’ll figure something else out. And no matter what happens, we won’t leave you, Cid.”

Rihnkiki could only imagine that whatever Alphinaud wanted Cid to remember might be painful—why else would he have waited so long to seek him out?—but she could also see the clear respect between them, even now.

A few beats passed, and Rihnkiki opened her eyes, glancing up just to make sure that Cid wasn’t bothered by the sudden hug. She found him staring down at her, eyes shimmering in the firelight. And as she smiled up at him, one of his arms finally settled around her back and shoulders, keeping both of them huddled together next to the fire. The expression that settled on his face wasn’t quite a happy smile, but it was something close.

“Thank you, Inky,” he said.

“Oh, pray don’t thank me for telling the truth,” she said, resting her head against his side again. “What else are friends for?”

Y’shtola

Rihnkiki had thought, perhaps quite naively, that after almost throwing herself into Yda’s arms when they found her alive and very much un-captured in the Waking Sands, she wouldn’t feel the overwhelming relief as strongly the second time. She and Yda had held tight until their arms, despite all of their respective training, began to strain from the effort.

Yda had told her, told them all, that Y’shtola was alive, and so Rihnkiki thought that she had already weathered the most consuming wave of her emotions.

She was quite wrong. Seeing Y’shtola walk through the doors of the dark, sleepy solar filled her with an urge to hold the miqo’te, one as fierce as what she had felt seeing Yda again for the first time in weeks. As always, Y’shtola herself was reserved, calm even in her own joy at the reunion, and Rihnkiki managed to sit there, nod when she was greeted, and listen to the others start to form a plan to storm an imperial stronghold while very much not throwing herself into embracing anyone.

The Waking Sands remained dark with no one bothering to tend the sconces, but hope burned bright in Rihnkiki’s chest now that they had a plan—or at least a goal, even if the steps to get there were still a little blurry. She jumped up to sit on the edge of Minfilia’s desk, swinging her legs as if that would shake the restless energy in her body free. She contributed to the plans wherever she could, but still, when it all was done and people began to scatter, Rihnkiki tapped Y’shtola on the arm to hold her back.

“Yes?” Y’shtola asked.

Rihnkiki beamed, then sighed. There was something she wanted to say, but how to say it escaped her. Y’shtola was ever patient, however.

“I have so much to say, really,” Rihnkiki finally offered, knowing that she just needed to start speaking, and the feelings would flow so long as she was honest, even if not eloquent. “Pray forgive me if I don’t make much sense, but I’m just so glad you’re alright. I—I should have known for sure you would have been alright, since we parted so soon before they…the attack. I wanted to believe it, of course, since I’ve the utmost faith in your strength, but…”

“You saw something of it, didn’t you?” Y’shtola asked, eyebrows rising ever so slightly as she glanced around the room meaningfully.

Rihnkiki nodded. “Minfilia surrendered. To protect everyone.” She bit softly on her own tongue and looked away for a second before continuing, “It…didn’t matter. And even though I wanted to believe you and Yda and Thancred were okay because you’re strong, strength won’t really help with that, huh?”

“What a terrible thing to bear alone,” Y’shtola said, eyes lowering as if weighed down by Rihnkiki’s pain.

Rihnkiki herself felt lighter for the empathy. “I wasn’t alone,” she said. “But I’m still glad to be less so now.” Y’shtola smiled at her, tail swishing with faint satisfaction. “Y’shtola, may I hug you?”

Y’shtola’s eyes widened in surprise, but only for a moment. “I…would like that,” she admitted.

Rihnkiki scooted forward on the desk until she was just barely balanced on its edge, and she wrapped her arms around Y’shtola’s middle. She was careful to avoid her tail, but besides that consideration, the hug was ever as fierce as Yda’s. Y’shtola returned the embrace with equal strength, hands curling tight in the layers of Rihnkiki’s blouse. There they stayed, until the sound of their breaths and their quiet joy seemed to light the solar again.

Wedge

It had taken hours—hours of worry and effort and chapped lips because playing her flute nigh-continuously in a place as cold as Coerthas was something Rihnkiki would assuredly regret once she was warm again.

It had taken hours, and she had nearly despaired when the snow had begun falling again, but she held out hope because the tracks had been getting closer and closer together before they were covered, and despite the absence of any sheltering structures…she spotted the bridge. Though her lungs burned from working about cold air for so long, Rihnkiki picked up her pace once more, almost sliding down the rocky bank of what must once have been a river. This wouldn’t hide a hyur, or even a small au ra, but a lalafell could have found a way.

She found her feet just at the same time that she heard someone call out sharply to her left. “P-Please don't eat me! I'm not nearly as succulent as I look! It's all skin and bones underneath, I swear!”

Rihnkiki let out a bright, breathless laugh as she took in the other lalafell, hiding exactly where she might have had she been in his place—curled into the shadows right under where the bridge ended. There was a word for that spot, and she could hear her sister teasing her for forgetting it, but it seemed so unimportant when Wedge was alive and right in front of her.

She cut off his rambling with a tight hug, both because she was so incredibly relieved (the trail had nearly gone cold, literally, and Rihnkiki thanked Hydaelyn in a private prayer because no matter how skilled she was, she could not fight the weather) and because Wedge looked to be freezing.

“Inky!” gasped Wedge, finally falling still in her arms.

A second later, Rihnkiki realized that the gesture might not be welcome. She hadn’t even asked him. “I’m sorry—"

“It’s you!” Wedge continued as if he hadn’t heard her. Before Rihnkiki could pull away, he threw his arms around her shoulders, weight falling into her and carrying them both a step backwards as Rihnkiki nearly slipped on the snowmelt-wet stones. “Thank goodness you're here! It's been...it's been awful!”

“It’s okay now,” Rihnkiki said, using one hand to pat his back even as the other one continued to squeeze him tight. She feared he might shake right out of her arms for how fiercely he was shivering.

She listened as he babbled his fears out into the growing wind, willing her body to share more of what heat she had left, all the while knowing they both needed to get out the cold soon. Still, neither moved until Rihnkiki’s linkpearl resonated in her ear. As nice as the hug was, the idea of reuniting Wedge with his mentor and looking for leads on Biggs (in a warm tower, too) was impossible to argue against.

Biggs

If anyone—particularly obnoxious, dramatic persons in dark robes or intricate armor—again tried to insinuate to Rihnkiki that the world was cruel and unworthy, she knew she would wish to gesture to the scene around her now and ask how they could believe that with such evidence to the contrary. There had been close calls this night, but there had been no more death, no more tragedy. And now, surrounding her and surrounded by warm, sturdy walls, were people she had come to call family.

(Their presence did not diminish the absences still lingering, of course, but Rihnkiki firmly believed that failure to celebrate a victory for want of a grander one was the surest path to self-destruction.)

She had a semi-scorched cloak—the one she had given Alphinaud last they were here, actually, which he had returned to her some time ago, and it had been damaged in the fight ealier—held snug around her shoulders as she sat on a bench by the fire and listened. Her friends were planning and scheming while Cid, Wedge, and Biggs soaked in each other’s company. Their easy smiles warmed her nearly as much as the fire.

She heard them let up a cheer, echoed by Yda despite the fact that she was on the other side of the room. Letting one foot hang off the bench properly now that she was warm enough not to feel compelled to transform into a ball with her makeshift blanket, Rihnkiki felt herself swaying slowly to a rhythm that, for the moment, existed but in her head. It barely had form, but its feeling was purely satisfied.

“Inky!” called Biggs suddenly, waving her over. Rihnkiki hopped to her feet, securing her cape using one of the brooches that normally decorated her tunic as she went and thinking that as soon as her fingers were warm, she ought to mend its tie.

“What is it?” she asked.

“My friend, I cannot say it enough—your efforts this night have done more for us than most could dream of in a lifetime,” Biggs said, and Cid and Wedge nodded from beside him.

Rihnkiki simply smiled and rocked up on the balls of her feet. “You’re welcome,” she said, “but it’s not like most people could dream of going through what we have in the first place, so I’m not sure that’s fair.”

“And good that they can’t!” Wedge added.

“But that hardly precludes us from being grateful for you, Inky,” Cid finished.

“Just c’mere, would you?” asked Biggs, holding an arm out.

Truthfully, Rihnkiki had to jump up to reach him, tall as the roegadyn was, even seated, and so it looked a bit like this in the end: Cid and Biggs sat normally as could be on the stone bench while Wedge stood atop it at a height to throw an arm around each of their necks, while Rihnkiki was lifted until she finally settled, kneeling on Biggs’s legs so that she could be crushed between all three of them.

It should not have worked at all, but Rihnkiki thought there was something to be said for the power of devotion, for she had rarely felt so secure in her life.

Papalymo

Rihnkiki could tell that Papalymo was restless, nervous even beyond their collective desperation to escape the castrum. She caught him drumming his fingers against his staff almost like it was a lifeline as they were running, and not until they were locked in battle with the magitek colossus did she realize the obvious cause.

Papalymo stayed cautiously back from the nexus of battle, much like Rihnkiki usually did (when her job did not involve sprinting around the battlefield searching for power sources, of course). But there was a marked difference in how he and Rihnkiki fought, and that involved how much Papalymo moved. Of course, he had skill enough to avoid the colossus’s targeting lasers when it projected its attacks in such a way. But as Rihnkiki failed to notice until a Garlean soldier was literally holding a knife to Papalymo’s back, he did not seem at all to be in the habit of moving himself away from enemy intention as most spellcasters were wont to do.

Rihnkiki dealt with it by shooting his attacker squarely in the shoulder with a poisoned arrow, and he fell back. And whether from the shock of an arrow so close to his face (Rihnkiki had been too breathless to cry out, in the midst of a song to grant them all power), or whether he was surprised by the cry of pain from over his shoulder, Papalymo jumped.

“Hells—” he gasped, clutching his staff with two hands as he compounded Rihnkiki’s arrow with a fire spell. It struck Rihnkiki as odd, a little dissonant note tangling uncomfortably in the back of her mind as her arrows and spells sang through the battle, that Papalymo seemed so shocked by the idea that someone could approach his back.

Until, of course, she remembered a very simple truth: as long as she had known him, there had always been someone there to watch Papalymo’s back. And Yda was not here right now, nor had Rihnkiki thought to alert her friend that his partner was safe and out of the Empire’s hands (at least, as far as Rihnkiki knew and hoped).

She ran to his side the moment the colossus fell as Minfilia and Urianger worked at opening the next gate, putting a hand gently on his shoulder. He looked at her with his brow knotted so tight that it almost looked comical.

“Yda’s waiting for us outside and she’s alright,” Rihnkiki said in a single breath, offering what she hoped was a reassuring smile despite the rushed tone. “She and Y’shtola, and Cid and Alphinaud—they’re all just outside, causing enough chaos that we don’t have to fight the whole base.”

“Oh,” said Papalymo, face falling slack as he blinked at her. “I—I was wondering.”

“I know I’m not Yda, but would you mind terribly if I gave you a hug?” Rihnkiki asked. She had hugged Tataru and Minfilia when freeing them, but both Papalymo and Urianger had shied away, too eager to leave or mayhap simply disinclined.

“Do we really have time—” Papalymo started to say, glancing over his shoulder to where the others were gathered around the door controls. Wedge let out a whoop, and the massive metal gate groaned as it began to open. With the little huff from Papalymo that somehow said, finally, without words, Rihnkiki was sure the moment had passed. But he turned back to her and said, “Well, alright.”

The words were hesitant, perhaps even standoffish, as Papalymo tended to be whenever he was embarrassed, but Rihnkiki didn’t feel particularly bad about giving him the hug anyway as he did reach for her as much as she did for him.

It was a short, almost business-like affair, if she was honest, like Papalymo wasn’t terribly used to hugging as opposed to being hugged. But they would have time to work on that, Rihnkiki thought. They parted with a good-natured pat on the back that had Rihnkiki laughing to herself all the way outside.

Urianger

Urianger was possibly the least physical person Rihnkiki had met who hadn’t tried to kill her since coming to Eorzea—mayhap even less physical than some of those who had tried to kill her, if she was honest. Even directly in the wake of Rihnkiki’s narrow escape from the Praetorium, after which nearly every other Scion had held or touched her in some way, Urianger had shied away. She liked Urianger well, of course, and she knew he respected her, and they were both quite content with each other, so Rihnkiki was hardly hurt by his aversion to physical contact. She would never force the issue.

And yet, still, as she stood once more in the Waking Sands—

Well, quite simply, something stirred when he looked at her eye-to-eye (goggle-to-eye, if one was to be technical) and said, “The dawn doth brighten the sky, and shineth o'er this nascent age of hope. And though the clouds gather to mute the sun's rising glory, I would walk far with thee under its gentle glow.”

The sentiment was winding, poetic, and very, very soft where it landed in Rihnkiki’s chest. “And I, you,” she answered, folding her hands behind her back and beaming up at him. But she also couldn’t stop herself from at least asking: “Urianger, might I give you a hug?”

He hesitated, lips parting just slightly for a second before he said slowly, “I would not be opposed…”

“You needn’t force yourself for my sake!” Rihnkiki said quickly, shaking her head. “’Tis why I asked, after all.”

“Nay, I… ‘Twould be welcome, from thee,” Urianger answered. Rihnkiki wasn’t entirely sure what it was that made him so ordinarily reticent to accept such affection, but his answer read to her as genuine. She reached beside her and pulled over a chair, hopping up onto it so that when she finally did put her arms around her friend, she felt like she was holding all of him and not simply his legs. Urianger held her as well, though it took a few seconds for his grip to truly assert itself, as if he needed to warm to the contact. But he did, which is what mattered.

“I’m very thankful for you, you know,” she said into his chest.

Urianger cleared his throat, which Rihnkiki felt more than she heard. But she did hear a distinct smile in his voice as he echoed her earlier words, “And I, for thee.”

Off to the side, she heard someone snickering, and Rihnkiki opened her eyes despite her cheek still being pressed to Urianger’s chest. There, she saw Thancred, still seated at the same table and watching them with a wry grin. His eyes dropped very pointedly to the chair on which Rihnkiki stood, and she pursed her lips at him. “Do not think for a second,” she said, very serious, “that I won’t come for you next.”

Thancred pressed a hand dramatically to his chest as Y’shtola, across from him, chuckled. “A deadly threat!” Thancred gasped. “I shall endeavor to be prepared.” Between them on the table, a number of saffron flowers trembled like bells in their little vase.

Rihnkiki smiled beatifically at them. Thancred had at least a few more seconds. Urianger, after all, hadn’t let go of her yet.

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whitherliliesbloom · 3 years

Text

when the light blinds

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #17 - destruct ]

[ alphinaud/wol ] ★ [ 1,270 words ] ★ [ major shb spoilers ]

destruct- the process of destroying something

when the light in her shines so brightly that the stars in her eyes have been blinded completely, alphinaud feared that he’d forever lose that which served as his beacon of hope during his darkest moments

“Alphinaud... Alphinaud...” Her voice sounds paper thin - still soft and light like air but lacking in the melodic chime that always reminded him of songbirds. Silence hangs in the air, palpable and dripping with dread, and the girl in her arms lets out a throaty whimper.

Though he feared that she would hear the sorrow in his voice if he spoke, intuitive and so attentive of his state of mind more than she even cared for her own as she typically is... He forces himself to part his chapped, painfully pale lips.

“It’s alright, you’ll be alright.” His vocal chords tremble as he murmurs out words of reassurances in her ear. He knows those words were more for himself than her. “We’re almost there, Illya.”

Illya doesn’t respond, merely rolls her head to rest against his shoulders as she lets out yet another pained whine.

The sickeningly bright glow of her long starspun hair is whispy and light, tickling his finger yet also unpleasantly noticeable in his peripheral vision. As he carried her through the long ascending corridors of the Pendants, internally cursing the distance away he had to trek to get to her suite, Alphinaud forces himself to not look at the woman in his arms - terrified beyond words that bile would rise up his gullet once more if he were to see the extent of her light poisoning.

Already bright hair or woven starlight now blinding and uncomfortably radiant... her fair complexion a sickly pale, with any and all color draining from her face as she had fallen to the ground.

And above all else, her eyes... Thaliak take him, he could not bear to look into her eyes.

When he’d finally reached the suite on the top floor of the Pendants, he unceremoniously kicks the door behind him with a loud bang before making a beeline for the bed, where he gently places the girl down.

“There. You can rest now, Illya.” his hand reverently strokes her hair, biting back his urge to shed tears as he watches strands of pure, irradiant light slip through the gaps of his fingers. He doesn’t brush her bangs away from her eyes like he normally does.

Again, the woman fails to respond, Alphinaud doesn’t expect her to, though she pushes back against him when he attempts to hold her by the shoulders and guide her to lay back on the mattress.

“Don’t worry, Illya.” He says, knowing his own hypocrisy. “We’ll find a way to fix this. The others have already split up to search for a cure. And Ryne was able to stop the light from spreading any further for the moment. You just have to focus on resting until we do, alright?”

He thought her too delirious too understand or even respond, but the young man frowns when she begins shaking her head lethargically.

“If...If I had just been stronger....” Past deathly white lips, she whispers... and Alphinaud cannot tell if she had been speaking to him in particular or if she was simply incoherently expressing her own thoughts while her senses are still dulled. “If I were..... then... G’raha wouldn’t... and Emet...”

Alphinaud grits his teeth, almost grinding them as his hands clench into tight fists... But his frustrations and rage were not targeted at her - he would never even begin to think of placing any blame or fault on her.

His anger was for Emet-Selch... and though Alisaie had certainly been more vocal in her disapproval for the exarch’s methods, Alphinaud too bore a certain amount of resentment towards the man for the state Illya was in now.... though he knew that he was simply too lost in his own panic and shaken state of mind to think objectively.

How could he when the love of his life was literally bleeding light?

And above all else, he held the most anger towards himself. For his own powerlessness and inability to ease her pain - let alone relieve her of it.

If he were more than he was born to be- if only he possessed the echo like she did... and if only he had been stronger. Then maybe he could take the light in her state - but even then, he knew deep down it would serve to help nobody.

The moment he saw her fall to her knees and vomit light from her lips, he knew that were it anybody else who had been absorbing the sheer amount of light that Illya had been - they would have turned into a sin eater then and there.

Illya has always been an aetheric reservoir - her ability to absorb and hold the amount of aether she does is second to none... and it was from that fact alone that she was as powerful of a mage and warrior as she is - not even taking into account her echo and the strength of her character alone.

The crystal exarch knew this - and thus had burdened Illya with the duty of bearing the light of the wardens she’d slain onto herself.

But even she has her limits - and the corrupting effect of the light-aspected energy swirling and festering within her was bound to eat away at her own lifeforce sooner or later... It already has, and it’s reduced Illya into a volatile state where the strength of her aetheric manipulation and conservation has now backfired and is on the verge of self-destructing.

It was exactly because Illya has been too strong - has ever been a hero to the realm who served and slayed with no recompense. Because she has ever been the brightest star of this realm and beyond that others would ever turn to for hope and salvation - that they might place too much of their wishes upon her lonesome to shoulder.

The world was ever in need of saving by the warrior of light and the warrior of darkness... But who will save her?

He allows himself only a moment for his mind to fester in the injustice of it all, until he hears his name being whispered in her voice again.

“Alphy...”

The lonely heroine looks up, and Alphinaud’s chest clenches painfully when he meets her gaze.

Fields of blossoming lavender and violets that danced across a field of baby blue skies... a dazzling jewel that reflected the light of the sun on a gleaming midsummer afternoon... and an ardent twilight that glowed meteoric stars in the dark of the night.

Illya’s eyes have always been one of the most beautiful facets of her appearance.... and yet now, staring back at him was a pair of lifeless eyes - burning so bright and white that it blinded him from the colors of hope he’s come to associate with her.

“Hurts...” The girl whimpers, and with what little of her strength she could manage left she lifts her trembling arms up towards him. “Hurts... that I can’t do anything.”

His arms enclose around her, and Alphinaud pulls his darling starlight into his arms in a tender embrace as he shakes against her, unable to retain his composure now.

“I know. I know, Illya. I’m sorry.”

As he feels the girl’s body slowly growing limp against his own, the everlasting light from the crystalline sky shines incandescently through the window and into the room. His back warms from the light, and he shifts to shield her away from the beams.

And though Alphinaud would not have known, a shadowed figure stands a distance away, his face solemn and melancholic even as he turns to leave through the unopened doors.

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #ffxivwrite2021 #kiwisffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #alphinaud leveilleur #alphinaud #illya skawi #we've come so far #fanfic #mine #shadowbringers spoilers

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autumnslance · 3 years

Note

Late Night if no one has asked about it yet!

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you like.

“Late Night” is a 4.4 set fic where Alisaie and Aeryn are both checking in on the fallen Archons, before the twins are taken by the Call and we have any clue what’s happened with our friends’ souls. They’re both very scared and vulnerable and missing their friends here. And willing to share more than they normally would.

I’ve two snippets for this one, because I enjoy quite a bit of it and really need to just get it out there.

“Can’t sleep either?” Aeryn asked. Alisaie was sitting in a chair between Urianger and Y’shtola’s beds, leaving Aeryn free to take the chair between Urianger and Thancred. She tried to not look or feel awkward as she moved to it and sat.

Alisaie shook her head. “I was already up answering letters from Professor Erik, and that expert on Mhach you mentioned, Cait-Sith. Odd name.”

Aeryn nodded. She reflected that she might have neglected to mention the latter was a talking, bipedal, 1500 year old house cat; that fact wasn’t terribly important yet.

“In any case, I’ve been trying to...I don’t know, check in, I suppose,” Alisaie said, looking to Urianger. “It’s difficult during the day, trying to keep busy, and I don’t want to get in the way of the caregivers. But, before I can even think about sleeping…”

“You want to check on them,” Aeryn said. “I feel much the same.”

Snippet the second under the cut:

Alisaie nodded. “I know. So far Krile and Tataru haven’t reported hearing the voice. But I keep worrying about…” She couldn’t quite make herself finish.

Aeryn looked down. The thought of Alphinaud, alone somewhere in the Empire, also hearing the voice, had occurred to her. If it claimed him too…

“I know I shouldn’t let it distract me,” Alisaie continued. “He would probably tease me for acting the worrywart…”

“He wouldn’t,” Aeryn said. “He’s your brother, Alisaie. I remember how he was, when you were poisoned by that Warrior of Darkness’ arrow. If anything, he’s probably just as concerned about the worry and stress his situation is causing you.” She smiled. “And likely expecting a cathartic thrashing once he’s safe again.”

Alisaie managed a wan smile in response. She sighed, looking over the others. “Honestly at this point, I might forgo it, if I can just have him here and awake. I’m sure he could help figure this out, with some random, obscure fact read somewhere once, or learned from a contact.” She looked at Aeryn. “I don’t suppose you’ve had any brilliant ideas, drawn from your myriad adventures and connections?”

Aeryn shook her head. “I just...was missing hi—them.” She bit her lip as Alisaie headtilted, having caught the near-slip. Aeryn looked at Thancred, too still to be simply sleeping, Kan-E’s words still echoing in her ears. “If I tell you something, promise me you won’t tell anyone else? Nor laugh?”

“Of course I won’t do either of those things.”

Aeryn hesitated. “Thancred and I, well…”

“Are having an affair?”

Aeryn blinked at her. Alisaie sighed. “Honestly, you’ve both been smitten with each other for ages. Ever since Ala Mhigo there’s been a noticeable—and welcome—shift, though you’ve tried to keep it under wraps.” Now it was Alisaie’s turn to pause. “Unless, of course, I and almost everyone else we know have managed to misread every hint and clue? Honestly, I’m just teasing based on rumors and gossip.”

Aeryn rubbed her eyes, her face burning. She recognized the out Alisaie was offering, and yet... “No, you have the right of it,” she muttered. She paused and peered at Alisaie through her fingers. “Everyone?”

“Well. Not quite--but, shall we say, enough.” The girl paused again, though this time to let a wicked grin spread across her lips. “‘Tis my understanding Y’shtola is keeping the bets for the various Company leaders as to which of our colleagues would not only suddenly realize, but accidentally blurt it out at the most embarrassing moment first.”

“...Please tell me that is a joke at my expense.”

Alisaie arched a brow. “I have a decent amount of gil and some of Rowena’s tomestones down on my own brother’s obliviousness, actually.” She grinned.

“Alisaie Leveilleur!”

“What? For all he tries so hard to impress girls, he’s utterly hopeless as to what’s happening with anyone else’s love lives, and his blind spot is especially bad with you--probably because he thinks of you as an older sister.”

Aeryn gave her a withering look, which only seemed to make Alisaie grin more. “Should I be flattered or insulted?” Aeryn asked.

Alisaie shrugged broadly. “Mayhap a bit of both,” she teased. Her smile faded as she looked to Thancred’s still form. “Though I’d be happy to forgo the whole pot if they’d just wake up again.”

#Final Fantasy XIV #Stormblood #Alisaie Leveilleur #Thancred Waters #Thancred x WoL #Shippy Nonsense #WIP #Lyn Meta #Lyn Writing #Aeryn Striker #scholarlostintime

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ainarosewood · 3 years

Text

Freedom

FFXIVWrite 2021 Day 26 Free Write

*Beneath cut due to references to current patch content*

The aftermath of the Battle against the Telophoroi at Carteanu and the subsequent discovery that the towers were draining the lands aether gave Isleif a lot of time to think. He sat at the edge of Silvertear Lake staring at Midgardsormr’s body still twined with the Agris wishing the old dragon would wake from his slumber he could certainly use his wisdom.

In his hand he toyed with a key shaped device, one far older than anything Garlemald had made having it did leave a sour taste in his mouth but at least he could claim that one one bound to it was at least not suffering completely at Allags hand anymore.

And just might not be at all anymore….if we freed Tiomat surely we can free her…. He thought to himself standing up and heading back to the Rising Stones. Once there he sought out Alisaie and G’raha and asked them to come with him to the shores of the lake.

Once there he raised the key aloft and depressed the button he had found so long ago. It lit and moments later Twintania came to his side in a spiral and hovered next to him.

“Look out,” Alisaie shouted drawing her blade and reading a spell G’raha also pulled his stave and stood at the ready.

“No sheath your blade Ali, she won’t harm us.” Isleif stated standing between her and the Wyvren.

“You have the key that controls the Nerolink,” Raha stated as he replaced his cane in his harness. At Isleif’s nod Alisaie sheathed her blade and looked curiously at him. “How long…”

“Since the end of the battle against her in those hellacious caverns. I found it after we defeated her. Not knowing exactly what it was but thinking it could be something that controlled the devices I picked it up. Later when I hit the button I discovered what it could do.”

He closed his eyes the Viera hating that this vile thing existed, “So long as I hold the key she is compelled to obey me. But, I think that can be changed.”

Raha’s ears shot straight up, “You think we can cure her tempering and free her as we did Tiomat.”

Isleif nodded, if you reach out her aether is the same as her brood mothers was. Stagnant and aligned with the elements associated with Bahamut. But, if we cure the Tempering she will be free of the Primal's will and you having royal blood..”

Raha slowly shook his head, his eyes filled with sorrow, “Sadly unlike Tiomats restraints even with royal blood I cannot remove the link. It has been bound to her for far too long for removal. But...I can sever the Neurolinks connection to the network that controls it there by rendering it inert. She will still have it there but if I isolate it and then lock it to only your access she will be free unless you choose otherwise.”

“I agree we have to at least try,” Alisaie stated calling Angelo forth and began channeling aether to him to activate the spell to reverse the tempering. Within moments the little Porxie then cast the spell and started the process. Several attempts and quite a bit of aether later, Isleif sensed that the dragons aether had returned to balance.

“Here Raha,” Isleif murmured, handing him the key.”Free her as best you can. Let Twintannia no longer be a tool of Allag.”

“Twintania? Mercedia’s greatest general? That is who this Wyvern is?” he asked, his eyes wide in shock as he took the key.

“I believe so, to be honest I don't know anything about her other than she was one of the myriad of enthralled dragons that defended Bahamut in the remnants of Dalamud.”

“According to Allags records she was one of the greatest foes they had to contend with aside from the Great Wyrms themselves. She had laid low several of their best in several battles. Her subsequent capture and enthrallment was the second biggest achievement of the war.”

Raha explained. Then the Miqo’te closed his eyes, “And today it ends. Today she no longer serves Allag.”

With that he held the key flat in his hand and channeled aether into it. Within moments the spinning of the Neurolink halted and the glowing rings turned grey before floating metal bits began their spin once more. The blue light that once filled the dragon’s eyes also faded returning to the normal red color. Seconds later she let out a massive roar. Isleif stood between Raha, Alisaie and the dragon and called, “Twintannia please, it's alright we mean you no harm.”

The dragon shook her head for a moment then stated softly, “This I know mortal..my mind was mine own even held within the grips of the foul link. I remember thee, both when we battled and thy subsequent times thou called. I also remember the sorrow in thine eye when thou didst so.”

Isleif nodded looking down stating, “ I hated the controls they had on you and wanted to free you from them. But, I didn't have a way till now.”

The wyvern nodded again, “And thou didst release me from mine torment. To which I will be eternally grateful to thee. Shouldest thou ever have need of wings mine are thine.” Then she turned to Raha her eyes holding his in an intense gaze, “I thank thee for releasing me, Tis good to see that not all of Allagan royal blood are foul,”

“I..am but faintly related to them,” G’raha stated, “Boosted by two former clones whose desire was to stop Xande and his machinations. Which they did with the help of our friend here. I am doing all I can to reverse as many of Allags wrongs as I can.”

“Tis a lifetime's work mortal at least for thy kind, take care and remember though thou art related thine blood is not all that defines thee.” turning back to Isleif Twintannia stated, “I will be ever here should thou need, of mine own will lest thee fear. Take care mortal and as I stated before mine wings are thine.”

She made as if to leave when another roar this time much larger rang out turning the wyvern all but hissed “mother’

Tiomat then landed not far from them and said, “Twintania beloved daughter thine sense are returned to thee.” the joy in the great wyrms voice was evident. She then looked down at the three Scions present and stated, “Once more I am in thy debt. Long had mine daughter been taken from me. Tis good to see her once more.”

“I wish I could fully remove the link,” Raha stated, staring at both wyrms. “But some things even my blood cannot undo.”

Both dragons nodded in understanding, “The fact that thou tries is enough. It reminds me that the children of man have some amongst them that can be trusted.” Tiomat responded, “Hence why I told thy companion that my hatred for thy kind burned away long ago. Would that mine brood brother had learned the same lesson.”

Isleif nodded, “Aye but at least he has found peace now. I took no pleasure in how it needed to end.”

“Twas his grief and guilt which compelled his hatred, and made him forget what his charge was. We lament him but we know what he became.” Tiomat answered then turning to the Wyvern she stated, “Come daughter fly with me once more join thy siblings in a song of hope and farewell for those that cannot be saved”

Twintannia nodded and looked one final time at Isleif, “All thou needs to do is hold the key and I will come to thee when thou needs, Isleif. I thank thee my friend for freeing me.”

With that she leapt to the sky and spun happily as her mother leapt aloft and both roared as they flew away. The trio watched them fly away smiling as they knew they had achieved at least something today.

Raha handed the key back to Isleif stating, “It no longer fully controls her but it is a way to call her as she said keep it.”

The Viera nodded and placed it back in the pouch he had pulled it from glad that from now on the Wyvern could choose where she wanted to be instead of being compelled. It put his heart at ease and made him glad he could call her friend.

#ffxivwrite2021 #Isleif Cahuac #5.4 spoilers #minor shb spoilers #aether data center #midgardsormr

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inviouswriting · 3 years

Text

Fear The Reaper

Between mine and Shuri’s polyship and piggybacking off an idea she started for Shuri returning to the frontline.

Shuri belongs to @maiden-born-in-snow

Kivera had heard the reports from Estinien first hand, about how those that entered the towers came back almost mindless and attacked their own. Something stirred within the normally docile creature. She had seen the aftermath of the scion’s after their return from Ala Mhigo.

She had made a trip first to Ishgard and pointedly threatened Aymeric to never let Kiya into the battle beyond this point. To enjoy being a mother and smaller things. When she had returned home, she had seen Shuri staring at armor she had been given. Coming to terms with herself of returning to the demand of the Scion’s something she was sure she never wanted again.

Kivera had taken Divinity aside, and spoke with her about assuming the mother role for a while for the children in the house.

“What do you plan to do?” Divinity asks, hugging Freya to herself watching her leader hold out her scythe, a transformation spell glows at the reapers feet. Divinity always enjoys these spells when her leader takes on her own image in worlds. Kivera taps her scythe to the bottom of a foot, and it changes from her scythe to a crystal staff. One that Kiya had used for a while before she hung her mantle.

“You should know by now what I plan to do. Only my best.” Divinity is greeted to Kivera looking more herself, but held back with some binding runes until she should need stronger magic. Freya content with seeing magic because of all the lights.

“That look suits you.” Divinity compliments, seeing her leader take on a darker complexion than what she was use to, hair up in a abanian fashion, and the clothes she snatched from Kiya’s home from the Scion’s.

“Thank you.” Kivera looks over the pants and boots with a frown and with a glimmer of light she alters them to something from the First. Warg pants and boots that complimented the outfit. She kneels down to give Freya a nuzzle with her own face.

“Take care of Shuri’s precious souls. Divinity. Guard them with your life. I may summon Parn here to help if you need it.” Divinity nods in the chance of having more help given to her. Once kivera got her fill of Freya petting the top of her head. She bids them goodbye and makes a travel out to Mor Dhona.

Kivera doesn’t waste her time meandering in Mor Dhona, she notes some of the curious faces looking at her. She doesn’t pay them attention, in favor of the Rising Stone’s door within the tavern. She ignores a startled voice from the keeper saying she needs to have an appointment with the scion’s before wandering in.

Inside she is greeted to several on alert from her entry. Kivera notes a few familiar faces from Shuri interacting with Alphinaud and Alisaie. Tataru and Krile she knew from Aymeric’s visits, and Y’shtola and Thancred. The ones that stood out to her were G’raha Tia, and Cid. The ones she had pointedly held up at one point by the end of her blade for interfering with time and soul magic.

Those two shrink back knowing her visit didn’t bode well for perhaps their health. She sees and sizes up each of the scion members, something she does regardless of who they are. If they choose to be hostile towards her. She doubted they would turn away help with Kiya out of the spotlight, and Shuri contemplating her roles.

“Who are you, I don’t think we have met.” Krile speaks up, and Kivera looks to her.

“Kivera. You can call me that. I am normally around Shuri and Estinien. I’m sure you two remember me.” She glances over to the twins. Her irises flickering between amused yellow and brighter green. The twins take a moment to recall her, then realize who and what they’re talking to.

“Forgive me, but why are you here then? You made it clear of your lack of interest in... mortal engagements.” Alisaie comments, Alphinaud looking at his sister for her words.

“Well, if that is how I am going to be received for my generous offer of helping you sad suicidal fools. I may just collect your souls now and be done with it. Save the trouble of hunting each of you down when your on your last breaths.” Kivera has a wicked grin to her, Thancred on defensive of that statement.

“Help?” Alphinaud takes in the reaper’s clothes and realizes those were Kiya’s gifted ones. Down to the staff on her back.

“Forgive my sister. She holds unnecessary grudges sometimes. You’ve come to help us? With what?” Alphinaud ignores the expression Alisaie has directed at him, a scoffed glare.

“Estinien gave me the reports about the towers. As you are aware, Kiya has stepped out of the dangers of world saving. This place is special to Shuri, so here I am. Willingly offering my hand and magic to you all. Face reality, you need my help. Or I can go back and live comfortable in my lovers home. Only resurface when the world is burning.” Kivera looks at her hand as she speaks, clearly there to hear if they accept her help or not.

“We accept your help then!” G’raha Tia speaks up this time, before anyone else could question her methods of why she even wants to help.

“I have a few... requirements then. So we get this out of the way from the start. You all may not ask me about my being, Where I am from, and all that pertains to the underworld. I will never answer them. Nor about the certain death you one day will have. If we are in agreement. Summon me for the next missions. Kiya has resigned after all. Let’s let her be happy.” She turns towards Cid and G’raha Tia.

“You two. Looks like we’ll be working together.” She further walks pass both of them in favor of learning the faces of the Scion members.

Kivera is approached by Thancred after a while, he had one more question for her.

“Kivera, was it? Why are you helping us? You made your stance clear from Alisaie’s report moons ago. What changed?” Kivera raises her hands to her face and looks him over.

“Shuri. She is the sole reason I am doing this. You can thank her when you see her.” Her answer leaves him with more questions. He’d have to accept that he might not get genuine answers out of her.

As if on cue, the aura approaches them after deciding her own path of coming out.

Kivera offers a nod to her, Shuri having more nerve seeing her there. Giving her strength with her presence.

“ “ℑ 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔶 𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔦𝔠𝔢. 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔞𝔦𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔫𝔢𝔢𝔡𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔶 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔭, 𝔡𝔦𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔫𝔬𝔱? ” It is there, the scion’s realize why Kivera is among them. Not once for the them, but for her. She is keeping Shuri from death, from her own fate that she fears she will one day have to do.

Take another life she loves. She prays in her heart to her governing deities she never has to do again. Maybe this time, it would not turn out like Damien.

#Kivera and shuri #Kivera Siverstein #story dynamics #Also Kivera's new style #shuri fontaye #alphinaud leveilleur #alisaie leveilleur #kiya shinikami #mentions of Aymeric and Kiya #polyship with shuri #thancred #G'raha Tia #ongoing story #I think with this I can finally return to writing #I may have burned out on Kiya and Aymeric but Kivera has her own path in all this~

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efrmellifer · 3 years

Text

Tempestuous

I was in a mood, so here’s some angst with a side of Aytien c:

It hadn’t been enough.

She’d refused Haurchefant’s offer of an eternity in Halone’s halls—she could only assume, for someone as heroic, as pure of heart as he must have been received as the most honored of guests—and struggled to her feet, fingers on her bowstring and light’s corruption making a cataract on her eyes.

The green of late spring’s grass, bleached white.

She had denied herself the comfort and bliss and taken her final shot.

Final, indeed.

She fell, choking and heaving, her soul coming out of her in coughed-up chunks to splatter bright on the stone below her.

It was too late. It was so incredibly too late, and she was going to die.

No. They wouldn’t kill her, because she was still their friend, in every way they could sense.

Maybe Y’shtola knew. And Ryne. They would know that Etien was about to burn away, cocoon in those waxy feathers, and hatch into some fresh horror. Martyr to monster.

They had always said ‘you are what you eat,’ and she had swallowed all that light down like cold, grainy soup.

Now she burped it up. Now she became it.

She took a ragged breath.

“Etien?” Thancred shouted.

She could only howl in response, not quite a word, maybe it had been “no,” or perhaps “go!”

Whatever it was, all the Scions stepped back, every single one hesitating.

When they had fallen, Etien had carried on, gone to Ghimlyt, explored the Syrcus Trench.

What were they to do now that she had fallen?

They couldn’t run, go back through the recreated ruins of Amaurot. So they watched, and saw the cruel, keen gaze with which Emet-Selch watched Etien squirm and suffer.

“This is what I brought you here to do. To slowly sink into the madness you’ve been holding back for so long now. This is the creature I expected to see prone before me, gnarled and weeping. And oh, when you break through this last restraint, what a beacon you shall be.”

She wept openly now, the tears milky for the mix of that whitish light mixed in.

“No,” she whined, battered at his feet.

She mustered her strength to lift her head, and turned to the Scions. Or where she thought they were, based on her hearing. “Leave me,” she whispered, voice breaking.

Maybe she went fully blind then. Or maybe they did turn and walk away. Maybe G’raha had done something, though she thought she would have heard that.

No matter how it had happened, they were gone now. She couldn’t sense them. Couldn’t hear them, definitely couldn’t see them.

She sighed, turning back to Emet-Selch.

She might have tried to speak, but the words died in her throat as she collapsed completely, belly to the rock, her ear and cheek squashed against the stone as well.

It burned the whole time, burned just under her sternum and behind her eyes. The headaches the Echo gave her had never hurt this badly.

Etien had only been able to see the outside of those feathery cocoons before, peppered through Holminster Switch and Malikah’s Well, or wrapped around Tesleen for those horrid moments where Alisaie had been screaming no over and over, and they had both looked on in shock.

Well, they were worse on the inside.

She couldn’t see, and everything hurt.

And then, it was over.

When she opened her eyes, all she could see was the aether she wanted so badly, little glimmers of gold at the edges of her vision.

And then the need hit her full force—she was starving.

Gods, she was so hungry. She licked over the sharpness of one eyetooth, feeling herself salivating at the idea of having some delicious aether. She wanted it, she needed it… how was she going to get it, down here in the ocean with only ghosts?

The eggs the broodmother was laying?

She hissed as if burnt. No!

Finally, she pushed herself to speak, to try to understand.

“Emet-Selch… why?”

“Hush,” he said, his voice the softest it had ever been when he addressed her. “Be still. For now.”

He laid a hand on the side of her face, and she expected a coolness to it, against the new heat of her color-depleted skin.

But it wasn’t comfortably cool. It wasn’t even warm. It was just pressure.

And then, the feeling of his hand rooted something in her, spurring a rush of memories.

How many times had he done this to her, so long ago that recalling it was like seeing another’s life through her own eyes?

The three of them, sitting under trees and debating one thing or another, and when she made a good point, his hand would rest on the side of her face.

For a long time, she had leaned into it happily, the same way Hythlodaeus never pulled away when she grabbed his sleeve, or they would lay hands on each other in intellectual frenzy.

Until she realized that it wasn’t a friendly gesture.

He was making a pass, attempting to possess her with a brush of his fingers against her temple.

And so she didn’t sit alone with him so much, choosing to wedge herself on the other side of Hythlodaeus when they all sat down.

And still, he looked at her like he was looking out the window to see the sunlight spreading over the land.

Now, she sat here, alone with him again. There was no one else but they two. And he still looked at her that way. But the light she gave off did not feel like sunshine.

“Why?” She asked him again, not able to get out her full question, “Why are you torturing me? Why have you forced me into doing what you want me to do, again?”

He didn’t say anything, just leaving his hand on the side of her face, affectionate while she couldn’t shrug him off.

Her throat was closing up, so she had to get out the last thing she might ever say, and she didn’t want to waste it on talking to him anymore, so she parted her lips and spoke, “Aymeric--”

He hauled her up. “I’m here, dearest.”

She opened her eyes, gasping like he had just pulled her from underwater, blinking incredulously that she could see their room around them: the painting on the wall, the bedside table, her robe at the foot of the bed.

“By the Fury, you scared me,” he murmured into her hair, arm across her collarbone like a safety restraint. “You were whimpering, but I didn’t manage to wake you—not for lack of trying. When you called for me, I took my last resort.”

Finally, Etien’s mind settled, the whirlwind it had been riding around the inside of her skull finally gone.

She sobbed, one heavy exhale that wanted to portend tears, but they didn’t come.

“I dreamed he won,” she said simply. “That I was trapped in the Tempest forever, too big for my body and forever starving to cannibalize an entire shard.”

“You are not in the Tempest,” Aymeric replied. “You are in Ishgard, as just as you need to be. You’re safe.” He stroked her hair now. “Do you need anything?”

Etien shook her head, another sobbing sort of breath leaving her as she did. “I need to stop having nightmares.”

“I’m afraid I cannot control that, no matter how much I would like to,” he sighed. “All I can do is stand guard when you’ve shaken yourself from their grip. But that, I do happily.”

“Hold me,” she requested.

“But I—I am, Etien.”

“No,” she mumbled, coming out less like a word and more like a gently sad chirp. “Let me see you.”

So he adjusted her in his lap, so she could look up at him.

Etien traced Aymeric’s jaw with freezing fingertips. “At least he’s given me some answers.”

“Oh yes?”

She nodded slowly. “Getting to see her memories—mine, apparently, but she feels so far removed from me I can’t rightly say that—told me why I felt the way I did when I first came here. What was that, three years ago now? Four?”

“Closer to four, I believe,” Aymeric replied.

“You, Haurchefant, and I were something of a trio when we got to be, weren’t we?”

He caught Etien’s hand, pressing a kiss to her chilled knuckles. “Yes. We were.”

“It always felt so… natural, so right,” she continued. “I think something deep within me was remembering him, her, and Hythlodaeus.”

Aymeric deflated. “And I would be in his role?”

“That is the one departure,” Etien said softly, “I love you. I love you, and you wouldn’t force me into positions like that.” Her nose wrinkled.

“Like…?”

“I didn’t want to be his lover, nor some figure he was ever striving to restore. I’m not a moss-covered statue with her arms fallen off, needing him to come sculpt me back into the shape I’m supposed to be.” She blinked slowly, settling in Aymeric’s arms. “And he’s not a sculptor.”

“He was a broken man,” Aymeric commented.

“And he was hoping that when everyone was as broken as he was, it would feel like it had gone back to normal.”

“But you, my dearest, are unbroken.”

She laughed, letting her eyes close now. “The unbreakable hull christened with gods instead of wine.”

“It makes you divine,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. “Are you tired?”

Now Etien nodded, wiggling out of Aymeric’s arms and back onto her side of the bed. He curled around her again, though, arms banding just above her stomach, clutching her close.

“Then sleep. I will keep watch.”

“I have nothing to fear; you’re here,” she said, sleep-slurring already creeping back into her voice. “You should sleep, too. I’m sorry I woke you.”

“I simply answered your call. And I will do it again.”

At this, Etien giggled, turning onto her back for a moment to pull Aymeric to her for another kiss. “I pray for both our sakes it won’t be necessary… tonight.”

#Aytien #fic #hehe referenced my own non-canon ending fic

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alvaar-aldaviir · 4 years

Text

Close Call

Anon requested the following:

Fog - hearing stay awake as they are carried to safety.

Repair - being confined to bed due to injury or illness and hating every second of it.

Misfit - getting out of bed too soon, insisting they feel much better, and collapsing / passing out.

All three: In which both twins are sidelined and Alvaar has to care for them?

Time Frame: Post Canon. No Spoilers

Notes: Established Alvaar/Alphinaud/Alisaie. Prompt fill for the Rest Prompts.

Cross posted to Ao3.

Alisaie wasn’t entirely certain what happened. She remembers rushing ahead, trying to reach one of the Brass Blades further away from them. A young hyur, newly recruited and eager to prove himself on the field. Undoubtedly the sort to find themselves into the most trouble. From there it’s... hazy.

Fire. A very loud noise that felt like it was still echoing in her skull. And what seemed like far, far too much blood but from where she wasn’t...

She wasn’t...

Gods she was exhausted. Exhausted and cold and sorely wishing whatever she was curled up on would just stop with the bouncing about already.

Distantly she hears something familiar. Something important. Something demanding she pay attention.

There’s a flicker of red and white robes in her blurred vision. A gentle touch to her head that reminds her of years long past. Of the Ruby Sea and one of those rare times she finally felt like someone had approved of and been genuinely proud of her. Alvaar’s hand settling into her still damp hair after she’d successfully distracted and escaped the Red Kojin, and the warm and approving smile he’d given her that had soothed the ache of past failures even for just a moment...

It’s not Alvaar she sees. This hyur woman is too short, a long and wild mane of russet hair framing a stubborn but gentle face.

“Stay awake,” the woman murmurs, voice low but calm even as she issues the order with the maternal confidence of a seasoned healer.

“What?” Alisaie asks, or tries to at least, as the word catches in her throat and wheezes out instead.

“It’s not time for you yet,” she explains simply, hand still settled against her hair and ruffling pale strands with a familiar motion. “You need to-”

“-STAY AWAKE!”

It jars her from her thoughts, some of the fog lifting to look up at the Bard currently carrying her. The grim set of his determined expression as he drags in air with deep and almost bestial breaths while the battlefield blurs past them.

Distantly she can hear music. Feel the warm breeze that usually follows him when he’s worked his Bardic abilities to full swing.

“Stay with me you hear? Keep listening to my voice and don’t drift off. I mean it!” Alvaar demands, voice louder than normal and rough from the sprint he’s making.

She wants to listen to him. This is probably the most demanding he’s ever been in her presence. The last thought she has before she slips under is that he and that White Mage seem very alike.

Alisaie wakes up to a steady and deep ache in almost everything, but especially focused on her right side. Propped up slightly against pillows and a modestly comfortable bed in a darkened room. When she tries to feel out the damage, she comes to the puzzled realization her right arm is in a sling and her left hand is tangled up with someone else’s. Before she can even try and push herself up to sort things out there’s a warm palm settling to her collarbone and pressing her back down.

“Don’t,” Alvaar murmurs from somewhere in the dark before the bed she’s laying on dips a bit as he perches beside her. Pulling away he fussed with something nearby before the strike and hiss of a match sounds as he lights the bedside lamp.

It throws a warm light about the rustic room they’re in, setting shadows to dancing across wooden supports and plastered stone. Some small study converted into a makeshift private medical ward.

“You look terrible,” she remarks without thought after meeting Alvaar’s pale gaze, the Bard still a bit bleary eyed and the shadows emphasizing the fatigue on his face.

“Yea? Well you don’t look like roses and kittens either,” he remarks flatly before a weak grin tugs at his mouth in spite of himself, brushing her short hair back with a careful touch. “But I’m glad to see you awake. You gave us all a scare.”

“Did I? Where’s Alphinaud?” she asks, glancing around. “He should be here any minute to harp on me about staying in bed and recovering...”

“Next to you.”

That makes her blink, finally looking down and noticing the second lump under the thin blanket beside her. Settled as close as he could get without disturbing her, fingers threaded tight with her own even as he slept.

“You’re very lucky. You only got hit with shrapnel. Barely missed your lung, but you were bleeding so badly... Alphinaud drained every drop of aether he had getting you stabilized before I could get you back to the chirurgeons,” Alvaar whispered.

“What happened?” she asked, still not looking away from the face of her twin and the worried set of his brow even as he slept.

“Stray magitek shot hit one of the ceruleam tanks on a broken reaper,” Alvaar murmured. “Sent metal shards everywhere.” The toughened fingers that soothe over her hair draws her attention back to him, studying the tight look of concern on his face. Cupping her jaw gently, he strokes the rough edge of his thumb along her cheek, a tender gesture she shifts into without thought. Shutting her eyes as he leans in closer, she stays quiet as he presses a kiss to the top of her head and nuzzles into her hair before going still and savoring the closeness. It speaks more of his concern than any amount of chastising or flowery words. Evoking a quiet and soft sort of warmth in her heart that almost always gentled the sharper edges of her words and personality.

“M’ okay,” she mumbles. “You don’t need to fuss. I wanted to sleep anyway.”

“Good... Could you humor me? Just a moment longer,” he whispers, words soft and airy as they’re breathed so close against her skin and it makes her heart thump despite herself. Giving an answering hum before he’s cradling her face in both hands and pressing another kiss to her nose. Her brow. A few more feather-soft presses of lips against her cheeks as his fingers brush along her ears before his forehead and nose nudge against hers and stay. Warm and tender and filled with the all-consuming love the Bard just seemed to give as naturally as breathing.

“I love you,” she murmurs without thought, wishing she could wrap her arms around him even as she thinks it doesn’t matter when they still feel that close anyway.

“Love you too, my dearest chevalier. Please, for just a bit, no brave heroics? I know that’s your default, but you probably shaved a year or three off my life today and this world needs you,” Alvaar returned quietly.

It ruffles her ire just a little, as being sick or injured always does. But she’s tired and sore and the warmth and patient intimacy of the moment win her over in the end.

“Alright... But I expect fresh tarts and tea tomorrow,” she breathes, smirking faintly at the huff of amusement that leaves him.

“I’ll do my best with what I’ve got. Get some rest, I’ll be here if you need anything.”

“You know I hate being bedridden,” Alisaie huffs the next morning, even as her injuries throb faintly as she remains leaned into Alvaar’s side with her cheek resting against his shoulder. She heaves a slow breath and waits for him to turn the page of his book given her reading speed is faster than his own. There’s a temptation to tease him for only having romance novels and sheet music on him, but the opening chapter had been enjoyable enough to still her tongue.

“I do. What page do you think the smut scene happens on?” he asked lightly.

“How long is it?”

He paused to flip to the back. “... 432.”

“Mmm I bet 120,” she answered frowning a bit at his following snort.

“Amateur,” he remarked lightly, smirking with amusement.

“Oh? Pray tell what’s your guess?”

Holding the page with a finger he flipped the book closed to study the thickness a moment before checking the page number of a seemingly random section. “They’ll do a cocktease at around 250 to build tension but won’t do the actual act for at least another 50 pages. It’s too slow burn even for a one off to happen a quarter in. Too much focus on a plot and world setting.”

It earned a faint chuckle from her. “I’d place a bet on that but somehow I’m inclined to believe you’ve read enough of these sordid tales to know.”

“It’s something to do and the novels are cheap,” he answered before they both perked up at the third occupant of the bed as he stirred with a soft noise of protest.

Pushing himself up to sitting, Alphinaud groaned faintly as he rubbed at his face sleepily, long hair ruffled and sticking up from where he slept on it. It made Alisaie unconsciously reach over to pet it smooth with her good arm given Alvaar was too far away to beat her to it.

“Good morning Alphinaud,” she announced simply, studying him blankly when he gave a start and looked back at her with wide eyes.

“Alisaie,” he whispered, staring at her in disbelief a moment before he reached up to grip her hand in his and give a brave if slightly teary-eyed smile. “I am glad to see you awake and well dear sister. I... we both were concerned for you.”

“I’ll be a sight better when Alvaar lets me out of this bed,” she huffed but gave her twin a faint smile anyway even as he frowned faintly.

“You had best stay put until the chirurgeons give you leave of it,” he chided flatly.

“Or what? You’ll park a carbuncle on me?” she challenged wryly.

“I very well may.” Casting his gaze over to Alvaar, his expression softened further. “I see you are up and about as well my friend. I’m sorry to have left everything to you by falling asleep. It was not my intention.”

A shrug rolled off a broad shoulder flippantly as the Bard tossed a hand in nonchalance. “Don’t worry about it. I just had to assist your spell with Bardsong, not dump my everything into it. You needed the rest more than I did.”

“But neither was I the one that returned to the fray to lead a decisive charge,” the Scholar shot back frankly.

Meeting the scrutinizing stare, Alvaar offered another faint shrug. “And here I am, resting. I would suggest you do likewise. I brought you breakfast. I would have done your hair too, but you were quite content where you were. Hold still and let me fix it for you.” Snapping the book shut once he’d tossed a bookmark in place, he set the paperback aside and eased away from Alisaie’s side.

Squinting out the open window and the daylight blazing outside Alphinaud shook his head. “No, it seems to be well past noon as is. I should gather the reports and the recent status of our positions,” he countered, already slipping out from the covers and sweeping his hair back into some rough sense of order.

“Hold up a second would you? At least take a moment to eat something,” Alvaar chided, slipping to his feet and starting to round the bed.

“Knowing you? It’s likely something I can eat on the way,” he returned with dry amusement. “I’ll be alright, but undoubtedly Raubahn will be interested in my insight and I shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

The Bard paused at the corner of the bed, frowning faintly at the Scholar who now stood an easy two inches above him.

“If it makes you feel better, I can bring them back here to review?” Alphinaud offered, smoothing the wrinkles out of his shirt before moving for his longcoat draped over the back of a nearby chair. He’d made it all of three steps before his knee buckled, Alvaar swooping in abruptly and catching him before his head could meet the floor.

Studying him with a flat look, Alvaar tsked under his breath. Shifting his grip so he can release a hand and press the back of it to the Scholar’s brow. “You’re running cold. Aether deprivation... Come on, Raubahn and the Alliance will make do without us. Let’s get you back in bed where you’re going to eat something alright? I’ve got a potion or three in my bag.”

“I’m fine... just... slipped,” Alphinaud huffed.

“You almost smashed your skull on the floor Alphinaud, I would do as Alvaar says,” Alisaie remarked flatly from the bed, now parked towards the center of it where she’d yanked herself on reflex in fright.

“Come on love, don’t be stubborn,” Alvaar murmured, scooping him up in his arms and lifting him easily. A slight amused grin tugged at his face as the Scholar glowered at him.

“I’m fine,” he insisted again.

“Sure. Humor me anyway? I don’t need any more scares today. My heart can’t take it,” Alvaar argued lightly, getting the man situated back on the bed and fussing the blankets back over him.

Alphinaud was less than happy about it, even as a small plate of cinnamon rolls was held out to him and accepted.

“This is far too sweet for breakfast,” he snipped softly.

“It will help give you a boost. If I’d known when you’d be waking up, I would have had a drink ready for you. But cold tea or coffee is the worst, so what do you want me to fetch you?” Alvaar asked lightly, ignoring the Scholar’s sour mood.

“Coffee. ... thank you.”

“Tea for me please,” Alisaie chirped, mostly because she knew Alvaar was about to ask anyway.

“Alright. Stay in bed the both of you. I come back and you’re gone, I’ll tell Y’shtola,” Alvaar threatened as he collected a few empty glasses and plates before excusing himself.

“... Pest,” Alphinaud remarked after the Bard’s steps had faded.

“Definitely,” Alisaie agreed as she leaned into him, plucking a cinnamon roll off his plate and taking a delicate bite. “But I suppose we both have to suffer being bedridden together,” she murmured after swallowing and taking another bite.

He made a noncommittal noise, but even then he leaned back into her shoulder gently. The pair sharing a silent reassurance that the other was fine.

“Y’shtola’s not even here,” Alisaie commented lightly.

“I’m not taking chances,” Alphinaud returned promptly.

“Me neither.”

Curled back up in bed with the pair a few hours later, Alphinaud on his third ether with his hair freshly brushed and braided, and Alisaie having just had her wound checked and another wash of restorative magic on her deeper wounds, Alvaar casually flipped the page of his book. Alisaie was slouched down enough to rest warm and cozy against his right shoulder and Alphinaud mirrored on his left. It was almost, if he ignored the circumstances entirely, like a weekend morning when things were relatively peaceful. Those rare times they could all lounge in bed late into the day and be comfortable together. Something so innocuously domestic he could still scarcely believe it possible for him.

It was a thought that left his heart soft and warm, and given the fright of the last day the Bard hoarded it close as he often did with these quiet moments.

“So, when do you think the smut scene happens?” he asked lightly on reflex.

“I still think it’s sooner,” Alisaie pointed out. “There’s no way it doesn’t happen before page 200.”

“No, there’s too much world building, it will take longer than that,” Alphinaud commented, puzzled at Alvaar’s soft chuckle and his sisters look of betrayed disbelief.

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vividreminisce · 4 years

Text

I Want - Chapter 1

Here’s the first chapter to my completed series, “I Want”. This was something that I had the inspiration to write last year and it did not let me go. I read so many stories from incredible authors in ao3 and I had the itch to had my own story into the many that were written about a special historian/scholar/leader.

I mentioned it in one of my posts that this series is currently completed on ao3 and if you liked this, don’t hesitate to hop over there to give it a read! It would mean the world to me if some people read this on Tumblr too as I feel that it gives people the privacy to put their thoughts and opinions privately, as I read in a post just very recently.

I am very new to posting anything on Tumblr, so I deeply apologize for making mistakes, either with the story or on the tags; I’m total baby with this, but I will do my best to learn!

Without further ado, below are the tags and below that is the actual story! Please enjoy! :D

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Series Summary: When was the last time that anyone thought of their wants? What happens when they realize them after it was almost too late?

A different approach to when the Warrior of Darkness and Crystal Exarch return to the Crystarium after the battle with the Ascian. Emotions run high from several days of healing and only having themselves to sort them out.

Chapter Summary: The battle has been won and now it is time to go home. The Scions of the Seventh Dawn, the Warrior of Darkness, A’viloh Entialpoh, and the Crystal Exarch prepare for the trek out back to the Crystarium. However, the Warrior asks something of the Exarch before they part, both unwilling to leave yet.

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV

Ship: G’raha Tia/Crystal Exarch x OC

Rating: Mature, SFW,

Writing Tags: Some depictions of medical procedures (not medically trained, so some facts will be medically wrong, but it’s all for the story), Slow Burn, Angst, Hurt, Healing, Comfort, Acceptance, Fluff.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

“G’raha… Hold on just a bit more, please….”

“We have made it this far… It would be… A disgrace to my people should their leader fall now…”

“...A disgrace… That is certainly one way to put it… It is not. You have… gone through much these last few days. We all have.”

Whether G’raha wanted to acknowledge those words, or simply make it seem like he did not hear from how quietly the Warrior spoke them, the brunette did not know. The little that he did at the moment was enough to keep him moving. Just like how Ardbert asked of him not too long ago.

He had defeated Hades.

The Crystal Exarch had been saved.

All of the Scions were alive.

And they were all on their way out of The Tempest.

Something curious made the Warrior almost falter: when having spoken the Exarch’s true name, he had shuddered, also losing momentum. His stance had closed, almost as if wanting to shield himself. Once he had noticed how far he was from the Warrior, he did his best to catch up, a slight limp in his step. The Warrior kept his attention elsewhere but took note of that strange happening, instead raising his head to where the surface could be seen. They only needed to climb to the water's edge and then, only then, could they be swept by the waters of Kholusia. At least, that was the theory.

“Follow my lead, Ryne. A’viloh, I expect that you will be the last to climb?”

“Yes. I will give everyone a boost. Please, keep the Exarch close to you.”

“Of course.”

“I… apologize for the burden--”

“We will have none of that, Exarch. Alisaie and I will be right behind you. You have been away from the Tower for too long. We will give you as much healing as we are able, we only ask that you keep moving forward.”

“I trust that you will keep your eyes where your hands lay, Urianger.”

“Of course, my lady.”

A’viloh couldn’t help the slight smile from appearing on his face at hearing his friends--his family--conversing normally. As if they did not just fell one akin to a god, the very same Ascian that was hellbent on making the Eighth Umbral Calamity happen in the Source. He knew that it wasn’t just for show. He could feel their nervous and grateful energy at being able to see the sky another day. It followed Alphinaud when his trembling hands grasped the strong rocks above him, lead Alisaie when she would ask the Exarch if he needed more healing magic, and stayed with Y’shtola when she kept her eyes on the calm waters looming closer. Ryne would glance down occasionally to see that everyone was clinging on with all of their might, and also to guide the Exarch’s hands to the right places. Thancred did not look their way once.

Once the Warrior saw Urianger’s hand reach the surface, he began his climb. His eyes never left the tower of rock in front of him as his mind wandered for a brief moment.

‘I musnt forget to write all of this in my journal…’

=====

His wounds were enough to keep him awake as he swam to the surface. He found Alphinaud’s face firmly planted on the wet sands of the beach, Alisaie shaking him vigorously.

“Alphinaud! For God's sakes…”

Brown eyes turned, next seeing Thancred patting the Exarch’s back as the latter tried to catch his breath. Ryne was instantly at the leader’s side, hand on his bloodied forearm as she quietly spoke to him. Y’shtola was at a distance, doing her best to wring out the water from her dress as it clung to her. Milky eyes locked with A’viloh’s, and judging from her expression, they found her target. She returned to her task of unsticking her dress from her skin, a faint smile on her pale lips.

A’viloh nodded to each head and frowned when he saw that they were one short. Honey and caramel eyes surveyed the land in front of him until they found their goal and slowly swam to the dead-fished Astrologian.

“A’viloh! There you are! Oh, and Urianger too! Is… Is he breathing…?”

Once A’viloh had gotten the weary Elezen to his feet did the Oracle of Light get an answer.

“T… T’would seem that… those lessons… mayhap would have…”

“He will be fine, Ryne,” A’viloh reassured. “How do you all fare…?” he asked, keeping Urianger steady. Strong hands gently patted the Elezen’s back until his breathing had gone steady. Tired amber eyes gave their thanks to the dark knight, nodding in reassurance.

“Aside from my aching back and Ryne’s dress being in tatters, I do believe that we are quite alive.”

A’viloh turned to the twins, Alisaie finally getting her brother up. Alphinaud’s hands went to his face and started to rub all the sand off his red cheeks, a tear or two coming down from how irritated his eyes were. He could read the twin’s lips, the poor Leveilleur cursing the saltiness of the sea. Alisaie sighed deeply and gave her brother’s back one last smack before affirming that they were alright as well.

Thancred turned to regard the leader of the Crystarium. Anyone with eyes could see that he wasn’t doing well and needed to get back to the Tower. Immediately. Gray hues tried to search for the Allagan ones, but the Exarch wouldn’t lift his head. It wasn’t until Thancred stepped closer that he could hear the rasped breathing from the leader.

The gunbreaker took another step, voice hushed as he bent down slightly. “Exarch, we are a bit far from the nearest Amarokeeper and it would not do for you to collapse now. I must ask that you get on my back, I have the strength to carry you.”

Despite his hushed voice, The Warrior of Darkness overhead his words and turned his head, fully expecting the leader to take the offer. Instead, his expression grew dark when he saw the opposite. The Exarch’s normally relaxed posture was more reclusive, trembling hands slowly wrangling in what A’viloh could only guess was nervousness. Faded ears were pinned, and if a tail could be present, he imagined it would either be curled up around one of his injured legs or between them. He saw the Exarch take two deep breaths and finally lift his head.

Allagan red pierced into the Scion’s stern ones, making them go wide. “It is true that my distance from the Tower has depleted my strength. However, if I am to return to my people, it will be by my own two feet. I need only take a bit more time to arrive.”

Thancred strengthened up, and if it had been any other situation, he would have commented on the Exarch’s stubbornness. But now was not the time nor was he in the mood to argue.

The Warrior kept his smile away at the remnants of his old friend appearing, however, it would only get them so far, no pun intended. He stepped to the Exarch’s left, the leader acknowledging him only by turning slightly in his direction. Placing his hand on the leader’s forearm, he gazed in the direction of the nearest civilization, his plan coming forward.

“Thancred, would it be too much trouble for you and Ryne to head to Wright and procure us some Amaros?” He turned his head head at the sound of footsteps, calculating, but kind eyes focusing on one of the twins, giving the next part of his plan. “Alphinaud, how do you fare with going to the Crystarium with Alisaie?”

The young Elezen tilted his head to the side, the salt water finally leaving his ears after giving them a few pats. He tried to follow the Warrior’s train of thought, but couldn’t figure out where it was heading. “We can make it, but… may I ask why just us two?”

A misstep in his plan; of course it wasn’t just those two that should go. With an apologetic smile, he answered. “My apologies. Please, inform Lyna that we are on our way back home. She will feel more at ease in seeing you both first. Knowing the Captain, she will start to prepare for our recuperation And… I have a feeling that she has people waiting at all entrances for our return, so you will not have to travel far to find her. Y’shtola, Urianger, with that being said, if you are able, inform Chessamile of the number of beds that needs be prepared. Our wounds are severe, but not life threatening.”

Alisaie blinked at how easily the instructions came from her friend. How long did it take for him to think this all through? She couldn’t help herself in voicing those thoughts, adding a bit of her spark as she crossed her soaked arms. “We have barely left you alone, how have you come up with this plan? Now that your soul is complete again, did it change you to start barking orders?” She meant well, giving the Warrior an easy smile. Tired as he was, she shouldn’t have been too surprised; he always was one to put people first.

“Bark is one way of putting it, yes… Mayhaps your soul should break once or twice to bring you down to size…” came Y’shtola’s sly comment, thankfully only amused by her friend’s orders. Should she have been miffed by him… A’viloh couldn’t help himself in giving his fellow miqo’te a nervous smile, thinking it better to explain himself before others start bringing in their input. He looked up to the sky, his smile more natural on his lips. The sky… it might be a different sky from being in a different land, but it looked just like the one in the Source. Red hues mixing with now natural gold, the gentle blue fading away, the clouds forming shapes that he wished he could just lay down and pay attention to.

But not now. He was thinking too much now. There was too much to do, and he was thinking too quickly.

“Change me, no… But my thoughts are much clearer. That was quite a climb we had, and it made me think of what needs to be done for now” His eyes closed at that. Six beds, bandages and gauze, plenty of alcohol, healers to close the wounds once disinfected--

He turned his head towards Alisaie’s direction, mismatched brown opening to regard her with warmth. “It is much easier to think about my family and what they need. We are almost done, we need just one last push. We do not have much time to waste, and we must act quickly and efficiently. I will join the Exarch at his pace in going back to the Crystariym. Worry not, I will see that we make it back home in one piece.” A’viloh nodded, his eyes landing on each of his friends and taking into account their wounds.

Alphinaud still had salt in his eyes and his ears were a bit red from the water. His clothes were in tatters and he could see a deep bruise appearing on his side, along with some dry blood on his hands. Alisaie had a cut on her cheek and her hair was coming undone. The Warrior didn’t want to look too far down without her knowing, but he could see quite a bit of bruises on her legs as well as how she leaned her weight to her left leg. He already knew that Y’shtola’s back was bruised, and while she tried to hide her short breathing, he had a feeling that one of her ribs was broken. Urianger did his best to appear in his five senses, but from how unfocused his eyes were at times, he must have had a concussion. His clothes weren’t faring any better, cuts and bruises trailing down. Poor Ryne’s dress was indeed in tatters, her shoulders now bare and her boots only holding up by strap or two. Her hands trembled under the sleeves and she grasped them lightly at times. The ribbon in her hair was long gone, and he could see how she tried to bring her hair back now and then. Her white dress didn’t hide the bruises and cuts on her arms, and he dare not think of how her ankles were doing from how the mixture of blood and salt stayed on them. Thancred’s armor had thankfully protected him through most of the blows, just some scratches here and there, but A’viloh knew that he had a few broken bones. Was that a broken finger…?

And the Exarch… G’raha…

It wasn’t that A’viloh didn’t want to pay attention to him. Far from it. However, he knew that the moment he did, he would focus on nothing more. G’raha… his friend… He was here… He was safe. And he was right next to A’viloh. From the little he could see from the corner of his eye, making sure that he was looking straight to the Scions, G’raha was looking up at him. Making what kind of expression, he did not know. But Y’shtola could see it full well. A’viloh tried to read her expression, but she was as unreadable as her eyes. And she made sure to keep it that way. Her milky hues shifted to A’viloh’s, keeping her voice steady.

“Urianger and I will inform the chirurgeons on what needs be prepared. As you say, we must act quickly and effectively. I will assume that no one has any objections?”

Thancred was already on the move with Ryne right behind him, the young hume having given a bit of healing to the Exarch before patting his arm and walking quickly to catch up. The gunbreaker just wanted to scrub his damn armor clean, the tainted aether reminding him too much of his time with Lahabrea. He welcomed the young girl to his side, her pure aether keeping him focused.

Alphinaud was following the gunbreaker at his own pace, speaking quietly with Alisaie as to what should be said once they arrive. Much had happened, and much more had to be kept secret, else the city would be overcome with worry. He gave his arm to his sister, who swatted it away… until she realized that she would be walking too slowly for her own comfort, and promptly wrangled him back so that he would walk at her pace. And she made damn sure to place almost all of her weight on him, her twin smiling at her antics. Y’shtola had wrapped an arm around Urianger’s as well, carefully guiding him towards the right path to Wright. The astrologian was more than willing to follow in her footsteps, although surprised by her initiative. It was not too long ago that she regarded him with scorn from how much he kept hidden from her. He knew that it would take her some time to forgive, and knew even more that she would never forget.

“...Warrior.”

A’viloh jumped at being called; he could no longer keep his gaze forward. He had given enough reason for the Scions to leave them be. They knew that there was much that the Exarch and him needed to speak about, and while now was not the time, they could still be near each other. He looked down at the leader who had not left his side. The same one that still let his hand rest on the one arm that was still made of flesh. G’raha’s gazed up at A’viloh, searching for something that A’viloh did not know of. There was still so much that he didn’t know, and more that he could if he just really put his mind to it. But now was not the time. He wanted to--

“You referred… to the Crystarium as your home. Do you truly see it that way…?”

‘Is it our home…? It is the home to many… It is… my home at the moment…’ A’viloh thought. He focused on the hand that was on the Exarch’s arm, becoming aware of how little warmth it emanated. More than that, he could see goosebumps appearing. ‘He’s freezing… ‘

“...It is my home.” A’viloh finally answered. He gazed deeply into those Allagan eyes, searching just as much as G’raha did. The leader stayed silent for a few beats, his rasped breathing along with the gentle tide of the sea being the only noise. He seemed to have found his answer--or at least was content enough with what he saw--and smiled tiredly, speaking loud enough to be heard above the waves.

“...Full glad am I to hear that. Should the people of the Crystarium know, they will be filled with joy.”

A’viloh’s tore his eyes away, trying to keep them on the faraway village. There was so much to speak about, so much that they needed to get straightened out. So much that he wanted to say.

Once they were well, talking could happen. He put his other hand on G’raha’s crystal arm, almost pulling away from how faint the aether was. It was even colder, A’viloh frowning from the temperature.

“Full glad will your people be when they see you back” Gaze flicking to the faded ears of the leader, he questioned. “How would you like to see them?” As much as he expected to know the answer, he didn’t, nor did he want to assume.

G’raha’s eyes went wide at the question, realizing the situation. It was true that no one had seen him without his cowl, this being the first time in… well, ever. However, so much had happened, and so many questions would arise. Nerves began to come up, his ears flicking back as he gazed down at the Warrior’s boots.

A’viloh found his answer then. His lips pulled up into a half smile, looking over at his hand. The leader… he was incredibly expressive. The Warrior couldn’t believe how blind he has been for so long to not see how expressive he was. He felt the slight trembles of G’raha’s cold arms and gave them a light squeeze. G’raha instinctually looked up from the movement and found himself less than a fulm away from the Warrior. He saw how clear A’viloh’s eyes were, but more than that, how different they were. One darker than the other, both watched him with warmth and understanding.

So, so much warmth, and understanding. How he relished in the feeling after the last few days they all had.

“I am not sure how you lasted so long with your ears down. Pulling the cowl up, is that all I need to do?” came the question, both hands lightly grasping the base of said item.

It wasn’t just the distance from the Tower that made his blood run cold. His cowl. The item that he hid behind for so long and needed to go back into. It was his symbol, along with his staff. That was how everyone in the Crystarium, no, all of the First, saw him with. The Crystal Exarch was a mysterious man whom no one knew where he came from or how he looked like underneath the hood. He gave, he helped, and he lead. That was his role, and that was all he could ever be.

A’viloh’s brows furrowed at G’raha’s expression. He was shaking harder, eyes wide and… resigned. They were tired. So, so very tired.

…Ah, he knew that look too. He knew it very well.

At least, he thought he did. And he hoped that he was saying something close to what his friend wanted to hear. “...You do not need to keep it up. Not with me.” His hands left the hood, placing them on his friend’s shaking shoulders and giving them another squeeze. They came down slightly, having tensed up from the question.

Keeping his hood down with the Warrior. Keeping his hood down…

What a wonderful dream that would be.

A’viloh lightly placed a hand on G’raha’s head, gauging how familiar he could be with the leader. G’raha jumped but said nothing, looking up at him from beneath his lashed. This was good enough.

“You will keep your cowl down when you are ready. Do not worry about your people, they will wait as much as they need to to see their beacon’s face.” He slowly spread his hand wide open, thumb and pinky slightly touching the base of his ears. G’raha’s breath hitched at the intimate action, his ears plastering to his head and the Warrior took that chance to carefully pull the cowl over G’raha’s head. His hand swiftly pulled away, bringing down the hood a bit more before keeping his hands to himself. The magicks in the hood worked immediately, only the leader’s bottom half of his face being seen. Despite that, A’viloh could feel the shock emanating from G’raha, and how he wanted to say something, but the Warrior was already onto the next step.

With his back to the leader, he kneeled as he spoke quickly, getting the next words out before his own nerves got the better of him. They needed to get going, just now remembering the fatal wound that the leader had on his back. How he was still standing, A’viloh had no idea.

“There is much that needs to be discussed, and I would love nothing more than to speak with you in private, just as… we would in the past.” He faltered at the end, his heart tugging at the lie.

‘It isn’t entirely a lie.’ That faint, murky voice dwelling deep in his soul reassured. Ah, there was Esteem. He had been ominously quiet during his time in Amaurot, though his presence was clearly there when fighting Hades. A’viloh was starting to worry when he could barely feel him at the end, thinking that the immense light might have done something (he wouldn’t say extinguish, but when dealing with a deadly essence that was the exact opposite of them, he could never be too careful). The dull worry in his mind lessened, acknowledging his words as relief flooded in.

No, they did not speak as much when they were at the Source, far less from all of the light that the Warrior had for so long. But now that it was gone, they should be more active...right?

Continuing, the Warrior did not spare a glance at G’raha. That word, beacon… It was one that he had not heard in a long time. Did it have the same effect on his friend as how it did for him all those years ago? “And talk we will. Once we get back to the Crystarium, and get better, we will talk. You have more days to live and now, you can decide how you would like to live them. I know that you said that you can walk on your own but… please, let me help you. Here, and back home.” When he heard no response, he willed himself to turn his head. G’raha stood there, not having moved an inch. Face still obscured, his mouth was agape and looking much paler than he was minutes ago.

Were his lungs devoid of air because of physical reasons or from the Warrior’s words? Most likely both. Talk, back home, help… They could go back home and they could talk. They could be in the same room and talk, or just, just be. Oh how he wanted that. How he yearned for that.

Taking a shaky step forward, he hadn’t raised his foot high enough, gripping at air when he began to fall but the Warrior rose quickly to catch him. He landed steadily on A’viloh’s back, his arms being brought around the Warrior’s neck. As his legs were hooked, he involuntarily melted onto the Warrior’s strong back. Turning his face to the left, his hood kept jabbing into this skin, and the Warrior’s, but they made no mention. Instead, they kept going, the wind keeping him awake enough as the tiredness started to settle in.

A’viloh thanked his lucky stars at how well that went, knowing that if they had not intervened, they would have continued to talk and G’raha would have undoubtedly collapsed, making it much harder to transport them both. Once he settled into a steady rhythm, he spoke again, volume high enough to get his friend’s attention.

“When we get back, would you like for the people at the Spagyrics to treat you or myself?”

‘What of your wounds?’ he questioned in his mind. Opening his mouth, he tried to voice them, taking several tries to get the words out. So tired… so sore…

“I will be fine. I will treat myself as well, don’t worry.”

“I… I know you… Warrior… You will… put… me above yourself…” He rasped out, his throat starting to burn. The wound on his back ached, making him curl up slightly from the movement. A’viloh took note of that and did his best to control his walk, still moving quickly but with less movement. His calves were cramping up, his back shooting up with pain along with his arms but he kept going, bending down more to bring the leader higher on his back. He apologized from how much skin he was making G’raha show and continued on, his space slightly quicker.

“I promise to take care of myself too. If I am not well, how can I take care of you?” He could see Wright in the distance, though still far away. Just a bit more…

“So please… Let me heal you. If I mend you, it will be easier to keep your physical self hidden from your people, if that is your wish. Whatever I cannot mend, I will learn how to.” He didn’t hide his desperation as he kept his brisk walk. The aether in G’raha started to wane, panic consuming some of his thought process.

He would not let himself be denied. Not again. Silver flashed in his mind, the sunset behind him reminding him of that terrible day. Not again, not again, not again--

“Who am I to deny such a request… As if… as if I could deny…” G’raha’s speech slurred, unable to keep his eyes open. His consciousness was fading, the dead trees and land melting altogether.

A’viloh felt G’raha’s hands slip, now running to the Amaro porter where Thancred and Ryne were thankfully waiting for them, the rest already for the Crystarium. As carefully as he could, he settled his unconscious friend in the front and prayed with all his might that he wasn’t too late.

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #my writing #vividreminisce writes #series #I Want #Crystal Exarch #G'raha Tia #Warrior of Darkness #Warrior of Light #WoL #WoD #Shadowbringers #A'viloh Entialpoh #A'viloh #OC #story

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mintdrop · 4 years

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i only got to sleep three hours and i am very slowly dying a dishonorable death but my brain has decided it wanted to imagine spearmint child hcs

his name is niosent, though he prefers to go by nio

heterochromia, one blue eye from his dad and one red eye from his mom

that’s the only thing he got from his mom, too. aside from maybe being an inch or so shorter than a normal elezen

part of mint is happy that he won’t get teased but also now she has to crane her neck to look at two people on the daily instead of one when he gets older

paladin main, probably due to mint’s stories of haurchefant. she’s proud of him but also constantly has a feeling of dread that she keeps hidden

super protective of his mother. like, INCREDIBLY protective. it probably rivals estinien’s protectiveness tbh

if you even hint at something unsavory towards mint, his demeanor changes dramatically. could literally glare so hard it would burn a hole through you

nio was like the picture-perfect poster boy while he grew up. gentle boye, soft. his smile could strike down a god

he was so gentle that nobody could actually believe he was estinien’s son, but 100% believed mint was his mom.

well alright actually nobody believed estinien would have a child to begin with

really intelligent, usually in the top 95% of his class while in school

nio admires his dad a lot but holds a little contempt over the whole nidhogg-possession thing and causing mint to worry as much as she did

again. total mama’s boy

would prefer to travel with mint and the scions to keep her safe but knows that’s not really an option, so he serves as a temple knight and moves up the ranks to serve aymeric directly

speaking of aymeric: spent a lot of time with him as a kid, has absolutely called him “uncle” during an official meeting once and wanted to die

absolutely lady-and-lad killer. valentiones is like a fucking bloodbath

candymakers might as well just deliver their entire stock to the wyrmblood household at this point

once had a massive crush on alisaie, had to be let down gently when he realized she was nearly 20 years older than him

baby boy. baby

#;; spearmint #this was 100% caused by the fact that i saw shurimun's screenies just before laying down #my brain Would Not Cease #it also gave me some inspo for one of those prompts i have sitting in my drafts but i don't have the power for it rn #anyway. he is baby and i would say 'i'd die for him' but it'd probably be the other way around

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catte-bard · 4 years

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30 Day WoL Challenge #3: Break

It felt good to laugh. It made Bellona realize just how little of it she did lately. Especially, since she arrived on the First.

The trip to Clearmelt springs was mostly Alisaie’s idea; a Ladies Day Out she had called it. Even with the Lightwardens gone and the night restored there was still much work that needed to be done. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy a brief respite first.

Poor Alphinaud had been a little offended by the idea of being excluded. But Thancred and Urianger seemed in agreement that it was a fine idea. And the former had reassured Alphinaud that they could have their own respite while the women were gone. His words had been meant as a salve to this boy’s displeasure about being excluded but from the furrow in his brow it didn’t do much.

But he swallowed whatever other protest he had when they saw them off.

Truth be told, Bellona had initially thought the same as him. After finally having her friends all together again to celebrate another victory, it seemed strange to simply split up for it. But she supposed part of it was because of the mundanity of it.

So rarely did they get opportunities like this. Moments where they got to do the silly things normal people did when didn’t have the constant responsibility of saving the star. Going to the beach or the hot springs with your lady friends. Browsing the boutiques and trying on all the ridiculous outfits.

She did miss experiencing such mundanity from before she became an adventurer. And getting to do something as silly as a day out without the men stirred up a bit of excitement with her.

It felt good.

It felt good to be able to laugh and joke with one’s friends as they didn’t have a worry in the world. They could just enjoy the cool afternoon and revel and the rejuvenating waters of a nice hot spring.

“Bellona?”

So lost in her thoughts, she had been paying the conversation little attention. And had been taken off guard when she was addressed. “Hm?”

“Someone’s head seems to be in the clouds.” Y’shtola hummed. “Are we boring you, dear Warrior of Darkness?”

Bellona blushed. “No, no. Not at all. It’s just... I was just thinking about how nice this was.” She admitted. “I mean...when was the last time we got to do something like this?” She looked up at her friends.

“Never.” Alisaie huffed as she leaned back. “Something always comes up. We go take care of it, just for something else to come up. Honestly, it’s enough to make me feel paranoid just sitting here.”

“Well let us not jink this respite by talking of such things.” Y’shtola said.

“I agree.” Ryne beamed. “I’ve never got to do anything like this before. There’s not much I got to experience when I was in Eulmore.” She looked down almost bashfully. “But getting to experience these brief moments of normalcy with friends is honestly one of the best things ever.”

Bellona smiled; it made her especially glad to see how much Ryne was enjoying such an outing. Just seeing the way the girl’s eyes lit up during their conversations or whenever she laughed made her happy. Her time spent prisoner within Eulmore had taken away so much of her childhood. And it was nice to see her getting some of it back.

“So, where to next after this?” Alisaie spoke up.

“Hmm...well actually Lady Chai wants to have us over for tea.” Bellona said. When the woman had learned of their little outing, she had been absolutely ecstatic. Her husband was rather busy today with all his new duties, so she had offered to have them over.

“She makes the most wonderful cookies too!” Honestly the woman was such a terrible influence on her sweet tooth. But she insisted on spoiling it whenever Bellona visited. “You’ll love them— it’ll make you want the entire plate to yourself.”

Y’shtola laughed. “And I imagine we’d have to fight you to keep you from doing just that?”

The other Miqo’te blushed. “I know how to share.”

“Do you?”

A splash of water in her face was the response she got from the Warrior. And with an indignant sound, Y’shtola splashed her back. The two of them went back and forth like that, giggling like children while Alisaie and Ryne watched on. The Elezen much less amused by it than her friend.

“Oh will you two stop it? You’re going to get us kicked out.” She tutted. However, the only thing that got her was water splashed at her as well. “Oh why you…” She glared dangerously at the two Miqo’te who merely smiled mischievously back at her.

Her fists trembled but she did not retaliate. Instead, she sat back and crossed her arms. No, she would not be dragged into this. She was mature and wasn’t about to risk getting them kicked out of here.

“I wonder how Thancred and the others are doing?” Ryne suddenly asked.

“Fine probably.” Alisaie told her. “And I imagine my brother’s even stopped his sulking by now.”

“Oh come on,” Bellona sighed, “I thought we came here to take a break from the menfolk? Must we talk about them here?”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Y'shtola chimed in. “This is our day to relax. And if the boys have somehow burned the Crystarium down to the ground in our absence then I’m afraid that’ll have to be a problem they handle on their own until we get back.”

And the four of them burst into a fit of laughter.

Truly it did feel good to laugh again.

#seaswolchallenge #final fantasy xiv #writing #alisaie leveilleur #y'shtola rhul #ryne

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fistsoflightning · 5 years

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prompt #22: by my side, at my back

Alisaie runs forward, her weapon at the ready, and Alphinaud is right behind her.

the only enemy i couldn’t dare think living without; you.

here’s the ao3 link!

((prompt #22: free day; i chose ‘siblings’)) [patch 4.3 and SHB spoilers!]

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

Alphinaud makes some less than ideal choices a lot of the time, but this. This is too much. Leaving to go across the Burn into Garlean territory? Already insanely dangerous. Going to Garlemald’s capital? Even worse, but…

Alisaie can’t say in good faith that she wouldn’t do the same. She may not be as ready a politician as her brother, but any chance to see the inner workings of their enemy would be a chance to jump at.

“Go then. You’ve obviously made up your mind,” she sighs out. If he is half as stubborn as she is normally, then he will not budge a single inch on this. “Just try not to do anything reckless, alright? I don’t wish to have a repeat of Specula Imperatoris on my hands.”

Alphinaud’s eyes pinch when she mentions that incident where the tower had fallen with him in it. Of course he would; he’d been in bed for several suns afterwards! “I shall be on my best behavior. Farewell, my friends.”

And off he goes, Alisaie thinks, watching as the Pilus leads him to the airship landing of Castrum Fluminis.

“Come back safe,” she prays to no one in particular.

The next time they meet and properly speak to each other, it’s been a year on Alphinaud’s side and a month on hers.

“Alisaie! You’re here,” he exclaims from the hallway of the Caternaries. The Exarch had led her here, stating that her twin was in room… whatever he said. She had quite literally been too mad to listen to the man once he explained himself thoroughly enough.

As much as she would like to return his excited tone, there is one problem. “Alphinaud, you fool! There are people sleeping right now!”

“Ah,” Alphinaud’s smile drops into a disgruntled frown. “I am still not accustomed to the whole time thing.”

That is the forgetful brother she still knows! It takes most of her restraint to swallow a laugh as bright as the sky as she strides over to him, mouth curved into a soft smile.

“So, how long have you been here? I don’t know about you, but it feels like a month since we last saw each other,” she says. Alphinaud gets this devilish glint in his eye that he always gets when he has a plan.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he starts, smirk slowly taking over his pouty frown. “I think it’s been a good year or so since we last talked.”

Alisaie shrieks a little and wakes up the man in room 807.

“Another self-important little brat. Just what we need,” Alisaie remarks as Zaya lets their faerie friend—Feo Ul, if her sign language was still up to par—spin around their head. Red and orange as they may be compared to their other faerie friends, she still can’t find it in her to even respect them.

“Hmm,” Alphinaud walks up behind her, eyes also watching Feo Ul stomp the air angrily in front of Zaya. “Reminds me of my childhood.”

Did he just…?

Alisaie slowly turns her head towards her brother, eyes pinched and eyebrow twitching. He can’t have just… oh, but he totally did, the little bugger. She hears Minfilia gasp from behind her, but she frankly can’t be bothered enough to care about possible remarks from Thancred when she grabs her brother’s collar and tugs hard.

Hopefully Zaya does not hear Alphinaud’s weak ‘It was a joke!’ from where they stand, otherwise she may have to face Syhrwyda’s wrath later today.

The world is ending below them, one miniature comet at a time. Red and orange spot the green landscape with ugly burns as more and more conjured rocks fly at the representation of the complete world made by Emet-Selch in his grief. As Zaya pushes on alongside Ryne, Urianger, and Thancred—of course it would be him right by their side, as it should—Alisaie can’t help but think how the monstrosities the Ascian has created are less horrifying than the literal end of the world he puts on display below their feet.

“Alisaie, focus,” Alphinaud taps on her shoulder, looking worried like she’s never seen him before. “Although, it is rather horrific, isn’t it.”

They both look off the edge of the cobalt blue platform they stand upon to watch a few more falling stars crash into the skyline, fire flaring back up into the atmosphere. Was this what the Calamity looked like to Grandfather as he flew into the skies?

“We need to end this,” Alisaie murmurs. “Before he tries again to make his world come back by ending ours.”

He nods, hand resting on her shoulder, still looking off the edge as a few chimerical creatures fly by. Their faces give her the shivers, but what’s worse is the comically huge one awaiting them when they catch up to Zaya. It looks like a gods forsaken Gold Saucer machine!

“Slots, anyone? I’d rather not,” Alphinaud mumbles under his breath, and Alisaie can’t help but snort at his quip while he turns just a bit red in the face.

Thank the Twelve Thancred does not hear as he jumps forward, beginning the battle for the end. If he faltered halfway, they might’ve had a hell of a time getting him to recover as someone distracted the slot machine of a creature.

Alisaie runs forward, her weapon at the ready, and Alphinaud is right behind her. There are no words needed to understand just exactly how Alphinaud wants to stay close to her as they fight this monster of Emet-Selch’s mind, the platform crumbling underfoot and laser beams searing hairs from his braid.

This enemy is great, she thinks, but there is no enemy I cannot defeat.

Then Alphinaud sends out his Obsidian Carbuncle as Zaya trips over their feet, and Alisaie amends that thought.

The only one she could never bear to defeat is her brother.

#FFxivWrite2019 #ffxiv #alisaie leveilleur #alphinaud leveilleur #in honor of my brother simultaneously being a mango and being helpful today #my writing #tales from the blue

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the-dragons-knight · 5 years

Text

Prompt #4: Dragons and Pixies don’t Mix

Entry four for the FFXIV Write Challenge for 2019 hosted by @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

Prompt: “Shifting Blame”

Rating: E

Relations: None

Warnings: Shadowbringers 5.0 MSQ area content

The Warrior of Light and the Scions learn that dragons and pixies are perhaps not the best of friends.

Anything written in ‘( )’ is spoken in fae language just so that is clear! :3

- - - - - - - - - - -

In all her battles and all she’d ever learned in the travels she’d ventured, nothing Katsum had done prepared her for a kind of standoff like this. To see a massive dragon-like Raihogg crouched down like he was about to attack was already intimidating enough, and the whole horde of pixies in front of him only made it even stranger. From beside her, the Scions watched with a mixture of terror and amazement. Urianger, Thancred, and Minfilia had looks of bewilderment. This was probably the first dragon she had ever seen and Kat was sure Urianger and Thancred had never seen or known of Raihogg before now. Alisaie looked over, shaking her head at her brother and looking at the Miqo’te Warrior of Light, “So...is this...normal?”

She sighed and started over to the battling creatures, “Not in this sense...Give me a moment.”

“You’re destroying our beautiful flowers you great dumb...lizard!” One pixie shouted, fluttering bravely in front of Raihogg’s nose, “Your claws are digging up the dirt!”

“Yeah, stay off of our meadows!!” The rest of the fairies joined in, growing braver by the moment.

Raihogg hissed angrily, taking a step forward, “I have done no wrong save for walking. You would have me stay in flight rather than walk?!”

“Oh! Is that too hard for the big lizard to do? Too heavy to stay afloat all day?! Ha ha ha ha!”

It was hard to miss the unmistakable rumble in his voice and the spark in his mouth. Katsum stepped up quickly before he could speak again, setting a hand on his neck to draw his attention away. He simmered down a slight bit, but still held his stance.

“I would not ignite his wrath, pixies,” Katsum was going to do her best to talk this through if she could, “He has a good soul, but one should never make a dragon angry.”

“We aren’t scared of him! This is fae lands here and we do as we please in our home!” They all nodded and the one that spoke folded their arms and flew into Katsum’s face, “In fact, if this is your beast, then it's your fault the flowers are destroyed.”

“Excuse me?” And it just got more complicated.

The pixies all laughed and fluttered about as the one continued, “Oh, yes! And if it’s your fault the flowers are dead, then you have to do something for us to make up for it.”

“Oh oh! Like play with us! Play with us forever and forever!!” They all shouted happily at that, flittering about like it was the greatest idea they had ever come up with.

Katsum sighed, “Do they ever come up with anything else other than that?”

Urianger shook his head, “I am afraid not, though be warned that their idea of “play” is far different than thine own definition.”

The pixies giggled and pointed at Raihogg, “But first! We need to turn this thing into one of our precious leaf sculptures!”

“Oh, yes! Think of how pretty he’ll look!”

Katsum narrowed her eyes and Raihogg hissed lowly. No one was taking him from her; no one messes with her dragons. She went to reach for her sword when a voice spoke out in the air.

“There will be no need for any of that, my sapling~” With a spark, Feo Ul appeared before the Warrior and lifted a hand, “Let me handle this before we have an all-out war on our hands. If anyone knows how to talk to a pixie, it’s a pixie.” She huffed and crossed her arms and mumbled angrily, “Which is why you should have just called upon first.”

Katsum gave her a sour look as the red pixie fluttered over in front of the Miqo’te and the dragon and glared at the still giggling pixies, “Listen up! All of you! As you know, that golden-headed lady is my (precious sapling), and all those others, her friends, are my playthings as well!”

“I am still not sure I like being called that,” Katsum’s ear perked as she heard Alphinaud whisper this to his sister and she shushed him.

Feo Ul continued, “Sooo...if this red-scaled...beast belongs to her, then it is mine too! So you can’t have any of them! Ever!”

“Oh, come on! Not even for a century or two? Not for very long…”

“That’s a matter of perception,” Thancred muttered with a scowl.

“NO!” Feo Ul fluttered her wings angrily, “Not even for a minute! Not even a second!”

“But they destroyed our flowers! Our beautiful gardens!”

“Look around you, you (fluttering flower sniffers)! There are hundreds upon thousands of flowers in Il Mheg! All any of you ever do is worry about your flowers! If you ask me, I think this beast here did you a favor. Now you have more flowers to plant. Isn’t that what you want, hm?!”

The pixie who had spoken before shook with anger, “No no no! They ruined our flowers! They must pay us back for it! They must!!” When one rallied, they all followed suit, the spirits of the pixies rising again.

Feo Ul only grinned mischievously, “The hard way then. Alright, you’ve made your point. Then I offer you one last chance, so listen up!” The pixies quoted and she fluttered back over to Katsum and landed on top of Raihogg’s head. He growled and she shushed him.

“Just go with it, dragon,” He grumbled but obeyed and Feo Ul smirked, “If you won’t let this go and still shout for recompense, then I shall ask this dragon to raze this entire field and burn every last flower until nothing remains.”

The pixies gasped in fear and Raihogg’s anger became a bit more humored, a Dravanian grin taking over the scowl on his lips. His stance became more playful as his tail swung back and forth like a cat ready to pounce on its prey. The sight was unlike any she’d seen and Katsum couldn’t help the grin that broke out on her face.

“You wouldn’t dare, (mad blossom)...” That one pixie tried their best to gather their confidence.

“Oooooh...but I would.” She looked down at Raihogg and held out a hand, “What say you, (thunder beast)?” The great dragon reared back his head, unfolding his wings, and let out a heart stopping roar that echoed through the flower fields to the castle in the distance and even to the mountains far beyond the reaches of the Fae lands. All the pixies scattered, flying every which way in terror, knocking into each other and doing their best to get away as quickly as they could. All the while Feo Ul laughed at their terror, the biggest and most satisfied grin on her face.

She plopped down on his head as he settled again, stroking his scales affectionately, “Perhaps there is some use in you after all, dragon.”

Raihogg huffed, “I am starting to think that perhaps the Moggles were not as dreadful as I once thought. Nevertheless, you have my thanks, pixie.”

Feo Ul nodded, “I knew you’d warm up to me eventually, (thunder beast). And this could be the beginning of a most wonderful friendship.~”

Katsum wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that, but if it kept Feo Ul from yelling at her about being called upon, she’d take it.

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #katsum almor #miqo'te #warrior of light #wol #scions of the seventh dawn #pixies #shadowbringers #il mheg #dragons #dravanian #shadowbringers spoilers #ffxiv writing challenge #ffxiv writing #FFxivWrite2019

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