#Side note of course I trust you alisaie. but it is very funny to say ask me later

[fisherrprince]

putting me, alisaie, and lyse on a team is exactly like putting zane nya and lloyd on a team

[crystalbahamut]

pounds of flesh

FFXIV Write Day 3: Scale

Summary: The Exarch is familiar with tactics used to dodge those most dangerous of creatures (Healers) and offers you his assistance.

Author’s note: Am currently ignoring the fact that there’s no faucet in the Pendant room (that I could find) because that seems inconvenient for such an otherwise nice kitchenette. The prompt started me off with the idea of scaling a staircase feeling on par with scaling a mountain but it sort of veered off from there. I really loved this prompt though; there are so many ways to take it.

Warnings: Shadowbringers spoilers, unspecified WoL, non-healing WoL (kind of), 2nd person pov, WoL/Exarch, overworking oneself on purpose

Words: 1,876

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You might have gotten a little bit…carried away today. Triffids, hoptraps, wargs, and more; you had carried out a number of quests to reduce the threats posed to those traveling the roads of Lakeland, and that wasn’t even counting the morning spent in Rak’tika helping out the Night’s Blessed with some of their chores. You don’t mind– it’s nice to be helpful, good, necessary even– but now that everything aches and some of the cuts have opened up again you wonder if maybe you took it a little far. All you wanted to do was make sure you slept well tonight, but even taking the intercity aetheryte was too much to ask of your energy stores. You have scaled cliffs and mountains, but right now the thought of scaling the steps to your room is making you want to find a place the guards don’t patrol and just lay on the ground. It’s a good thing the manager is on break right now, or you’d have to field some uncomfortable questions about why you’re just standing around, staring.

“There you are.”

You flinch. Mayhap the manager would have been the lesser of two well-intentioned evils, considering the Exarch sounds…not exactly smug, but knowing. You stand taller and clear your throat. “Evening Exarch,” you say. “Did you need something?”

“Not precisely, though I am wont to worry when you stay out so late,” he says and steps towards you.

That…you almost turn around for that. He worries? You shake your head; of course he worries, you are (supposedly) the one hope for the world’s survival. ‘Tis nothing more than prudence. “Nothing to worry about; I’m quite fine.”

“Oh?” You can hear the smile in his voice as he comes around your side, and you quickly look away. “Should I be flattered that you seem to be emulating me?”

You scowl and pull the head covering down farther. How in the world does he see anything like this? “You didn’t invent hooded robes, Exarch.”

“No, I did not,” he chuckles. “However I have not seen you wearing one, until now.”

“Mayhap I simply felt like it.”

“Mayhap you did,” he says. “Or mayhap you are trying to hide a head wound incurred when a lake viper used its tail to swat you into a tree.”

You don’t have a good comeback for that. “You know, nobody likes a know it all,” you grumble and try to sink into your shoulders. One of these days you are going to break that damn magic mirror of his.

“My dear warrior,” he sighs as though indulging you in a whim. “What would it take for you to accompany me to Spagyrics?”

You turn to give him a look of incredulity and then realize that probably isn’t very effective. However he sighs and says, “I see.”

“Do you?” you ask. “I can’t see anything like this; I don’t know how you do it.”

He doesn’t take the bait, unfortunately. “Would you allow me to see to your wounds then?”

“I can heal myself.”

“If you could, you already would have.” He puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, though right on a sore spot that twinges, and you try not to wince. “I would just like some assurance you are well enough. If you are uncomfortable with me, I can fetch one of the Scio-”

“You,” you say immediately and take his arm. You pull back the hood to see with your good eye and find his mouth partly opened in surprise. “I trust you.” Also, if Alisaie or Y’shtola see you in this state, they will put you out of their misery. But you meant what you said. You do trust him.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly, as though he’s honored, and the wondrous tone of his voice is enough to give you the energy to make it up the stairs and to your room.

“I don’t think I’ve seen someone manage to limp so successfully on both legs before,” the Exarch says and goes to the cupboard where the first aid kit lives.

“It’s not that bad– though I’m going to warn you that I’m a bit dirty so it probably looks worse than it is,” you say and pull off the robe. Gently, as everywhere it touches seems to throb with new pain, or maybe the fatigue is getting to you. While he’s turned around you quickly (ow) change into some shorts and a tank top and sit on the bench by the door.

When he turns around the Exarch actually stops in his tracks. “Wicked white,” he says and sighs. “If Chessamile saw you like this…”

“The Warrior of Darkness would be ended by the wrath of a bypassed healer.” You put a finger to your lips. “But surely now my trusty accomplice will help me.”

He smiles again, though he looks like he’s trying to wrangle it back into a disapproving frown. “Extortion now, is it?” he asks as he starts filling a bowl with water.

“I think your offer belied the feelings of one used to dodging chirurgeons,” you say and give yourself a quick check to make sure anything that needs treating is visible. Thankfully your torso just endured some bruising; it’s your limbs that took the brunt of everything. And your head, you’re reminded as you try to gingerly scrape off some of the dried blood and accidentally reopen the wound, making fresh blood course back down over your eye. “Oops.”

“Perhaps I have, but even my own injuries pale in comparison. I can see why any healer would have their hands full with you,” the Exarch says as he comes over to take your hand, shove some cloth in it, and force you press it hard against the cut. “Pray just hold that there for now.”

Now that you’re able to relax and do nothing, exhaustion courses through your bones and you do as he bids if only because anything else is far too much effort. You struggle to stay awake as he pulls over a chair, the medical kit, and the bowl of water, and blink yourself back to consciousness when he sits down.

“Are there any sprains?” he asks as he looks over the injuries.

“My right ankle feels a bit funny, and I think I pulled something in my left thigh, but mostly I’m just scraped up,” you say. He dabs some of the scratches with the clean water and it’s uncomfortable but not unbearable. You almost start to fall asleep with his gentle ministrations.

But when he presses a new, slightly damp cloth to those scrapes, the stinging wakes you right up. “Thal’s balls!” you hiss and resist the urge to rip his hands away. On the plus side, your head has stopped bleeding again; now it only throbs as you set the bloodied cloth aside and try to quell the nausea caused by pain.

“I apologize,” he murmurs and dabs it more gently. It’s not a good feeling but you can bear it a little easier now that you know it’s coming. He clears his throat. “What were you working on so frenetically today?”

“Huh?” You think about the question. “Oh– nothing much really; I was just taking a few jobs here and there.”

“Are you in need of gil?” he asks and lifts his head. Presumably to look at you. “Surely some of these jobs could have waited another day?”

You take the washcloth and wring it out before you start cleaning your other leg, and then your arms. It will help him get through this easier. And it also makes it so you don’t have to look at him now. “They could have. But I wanted them done.”

“Because you plan to take the day for yourself tomorrow?”

“Perhaps,” you say. “Perhaps this is how I want to spend my days.”

“Working yourself to the bone when you already do so much?” He finishes wrapping your ankle and grabs your hand. He says your name gently, without reproach. “What is wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.” You shut your eyes. “Sometimes…I just want to sleep. That’s all.”

“I see,” he says and doesn’t press for more. If this were Alphinaud you wouldn’t be able to escape without some awkward attempt at platitudes on his end, or Urianger, who would try to make suggestions while also nearly putting you to sleep with one of his lectures, but the Exarch keeps tending to you with hands that are gentler than they have any right to be.

When he starts treating the cut on your head it’s a good excuse to close your eyes, but even without some supposed excuse you don’t think you would do any differently. He’s so…gentle. Healers, even the kindest ones, are all business– as they should be, as they’re always the ones that have to make sure everyone is fighting fit for the next catastrophe. But the Exarch touches you so tenderly, like he wants to put you back together piece by piece, with soothing motions and soft brushes of skin, and crystal that’s warmer than it looks, and it’s all you can do to keep from falling apart in his capable hands.

“One moment, my warrior,” he murmurs and you realize you’re halfway to sleep by the fact that you can’t seem to open your eyes when he leaves, but it doesn’t bother you overmuch. When he comes back and nudges you to stand, you manage to do so, but you still don’t open your eyes even as you shuffle over to the bed with his help. You sit on sheets– the cover has been pulled back already, you realize with delayed thoughts as the Exarch tucks you in. You’ll be mortified in the morning, but for now…

“I pray sweet dreams find you tonight, my warrior.”

You think you imagine the gentle kiss placed upon your brow, but in case this isn’t some lovely dream and he is still around to hear it, you whisper, “Thank you.”

 The next morning finds you sore and a little stiff, but you can recognize that you’re better off than you would have been otherwise.

You also find a collection of medicinal-looking mixtures all lined up in bottles in a neat little row on the table. And, when you go over to investigate, a note from the Exarch.

 My dear warrior,

Though it is not a happy thought, there are many in Norvrandt who share your desire for uninterrupted sleep, as well as your difficulties attaining it. These elixirs each have their own cards describing ingredients and dosage; if you find one to your liking, it would be a simple matter of requesting more, and I should be delighted to do so.

Also, if you ever find the climb to your room to be too arduous, perhaps the smaller staircase leading to the tower itself would be less of a strain. Once inside, there are easier ways to get around that I would be happy to show you.

With fondest wishes,

The Crystal Exarch

 You smile and fold the letter back up. An easier way to the Ocular, hm? You’d like to see that. Perhaps now is a good time to stretch your legs and make the climb.