#Thancred is a much better person to comfort her after the body switch Considering for all Ibakha or cyn or mom or dad would try

[lesenbyan]

Shipping Eve and Thancred (and Uri) has suddenly made EW a lot less emotionally taxing

I mean, until it Doesn't

[draw-you-coward]

ao3

“Ikael,” Hien says, just before Ikael is about to head back to Ul’dah. “A moment of your time, if you would graciously grant me it?”

His voice is deep and grave even if his face is creased apologetically, as if he feels ill about delaying Ikael, but the matter he wishes to discuss is too important to put off for overlong. Ikael turns, one hand still held up to his linkpearl, and raises a finger.

Hien’s mouth opens in a silent “Ah.” He bows, stepping back a yalm.

“I am sure you can hold off for a day or two.” Ikael continues his conversation. “I—No, Cecily, don’t ‘but, Captain,’ me. It is dangerous out there still, and I don’t want any of you getting hurt.”

He glances idly at Hien, who crosses his arms and nods. Ikael hums at Cecily’s staticky response in his ear.

“Yes,” he says. He frowns. “No. You know what? Tell him I’ll be there in the morning, alright? I’ll make everyone a big breakfast. Make up for it.”

His face hardens somewhat. “If I haven’t already made it clear: No, and that’s an order.” He toes at the ground. “Alright… Yes. I-I… am sorry for yelling. Okay. Goodnight, Cecily.”

He switches his linkpearl off with a sigh. It is tempting to simply disconnect it and toss it somewhere for the night, but with all that is going on, he does not want to risk being off call.

“An order, eh?” Hien’s eyes, he feels, would have a humorous twinkle in them were they in any other circumstance. But the only indication Ikael has that he is being teased is the lilt his voice. “You are in a position to give those, then, Captain Jelaar?”

“Ugh.” Ikael rolls his eyes playfully, but smiles. He walks closer to Hien so they can speak. “Don’t ever call me that—Raubahn doing it to bully me is bad enough! Unless you want to be Shun’d in front of the entire Alliance.”

“Noted.” Hien winks, and Ikael bites the inside of his cheek.

“So what did you wish to discuss?” he asks. A part of him idly—and cheekily—wonders if Hien has a more… personal request. But he dismisses the thought, as entertaining as it would be. Hien seems serious. It makes a sapling of worry sprout in Ikael’s chest, to be frank; he hopes he is not going to be the receptor of any more ill news.

“It is a…” Hien glances down for a fraction of a second, then back to Ikael, holding his head high. “… personal matter, actually. Might we speak somewhere more private?”

“After that display earlier? Sure,” Ikael jokes, subconsciously moving his shoulder in an attempt to bump it with Hien’s. As they are not standing close enough to each other, he only manages to look perhaps a bit odd.

Something like surprise sparks in Hien’s eye, and then he laughs; a deep, hearty sound Ikael has heard strangely often. Ikael grins, sharp and a bit surprised at the easygoing reaction to his—rather impulsive, he will admit, but the battle had made his blood run hot and his mind move fast—flirtation.

“I am glad that my excessive and show-offish demonstration enthused you so,” Hien says, the ends of a chuckle still in his breath. He spreads his hands. “I fear I am but a humble samurai without the unwavering strength of my allies to ground me, however. You of all people would understand. But come now; we shall speak in your tent, since Yugiri is less likely to eavesdrop.”

Ikael glances around instinctively at the mention of Yugiri. He cannot see her, but… well, one never knows. Ikael has found a battle-pastry missing from his belt more than once.

The enter the tent Ikael has set up for the night. It is large enough for two people to fit comfortably, if a bit snugly. Ikael immediately goes to put the kettle on, glad that he thought to bring it. Wedge is a marvelous engineer, in his opinion.

Hien kneels down on a flat cushion after laying his katana aside. Ikael sits across from him. He hesitates, then slowly scoots closer.

“Well,” Hien says, folding his hands together. “There is no two ways about this, then. Forgive me if I am blunt.”

He takes a breath. Ikael squeezes his ankles, rocking a little. His tail flicks.

“After Master Thancred, ah, got his… soul sucked out of his body,” Hien begins, and Ikael winces automatically at what he suddenly knows is going to be brought up, “You were… rather agitated.”

Ikael remembers. He scratches at his ear, staring at Hien’s toes.

“It, um… happens sometimes,” he mumbles. “I-I-I panic. Like—like that. ’m sorry if I… disturbed you.”

“It was unexpected, but I was only worried.” Hien’s voice takes on an affect that Ikael is not quite sure what to make of. “And I still am, to be quite honest. I did not get the chance to check in on you then; as you are aware, we were dealing with matters of our own. But those are well on their way to being resolved now, and there is a moment for us all to breathe.”

Ikael nervously picks at his brais. The kettle goes off and he jumps, then hurriedly scrambles up to pour the tea.

“Two minutes,” he tells Hien as he holds out his teacup. Hien takes it with a gracious, princely nod, and Ikael has to giggle. Does he practice doing that?

“But yes,” Hien continues as he no doubt realizes Ikael isn’t going to say anything useful. “A moment to breathe is all I need to take the opportunity to ask how you fare. I am… concerned for your wellbeing, Ikael. Especially with Alisaie being taken so recently—and so suddenly.”

“A-a-ah,” Ikael says. Blunt, Hien had said, and, well, yes. It is… unexpectedly so. Ikael closes his mouth, staring at his cup. It is a Hingan blend, and Ikael has been told he is not supposed to add any sweetener. He does not like that.

“I apologize if I have brought up something you would rather not think about.” Hien’s voice has taken on that affect again, turning into something dulcet and quiet. “Truly; it is not my intent to pain you. We can change the subject, if you so wish!”

He pauses for a second to blow at his tea, dark lashes shifting down as he glances at it. His posture seems to… ease, a little, as if becoming more relaxed. Ikael anxiously hugs his knee.

Hien sips, makes a considering face, and continues: “But… I noticed that none of your companions seemed inclined to lend you their concern. Or even just an ear. It is not a little peculiar.”

His tone tilts at the last sentence, as if he is getting at something that Ikael cannot quite guess at. Ikael hides his face behind his teacup, ears folding down and tail flicking restlessly around his ankles. Hien is—right; it is an awkward fact, but it is true. Ikael is not… prone to developing strong bonds with the people he brings with him. He is no good at group chemistry and it is… difficult to stick to people. Or rather, it is difficult for them to stick back. Ikael is… Ikael is too sticky. He is like… chewed taffy.

“Um. They, um. Aren’t really my companions in anything more than battle,” he mumbles. “More out of necessity than anything, you know?”

Besides, more than one person is not supposed to chew taffy at a time. That is disgusting. Ikael will stick to his one person, and rotate them as necessary.

“I did notice they departed rather quickly once the matter had concluded,” Hien states. His eyes, when Ikael meets them, are as sharp as his sword. Ikael quickly looks back down.

“They have, um… things to do,” he says. He doesn’t know, really—he does not ask.

Hien does not reply to that. Ikael fidgets, feels increasingly awkward as the silence stretches. He sips at his tea. It is not sweet.

“Ikael,” Hien says after what could have been a short amount of time, even if it does not feel like it. “How do you fare?”

Ikael harshly rubs at the curve between his nose and cheek with his forefinger. He pulls his knees up. He does not know… Is he supposed to switch people now? Hien is his friend, right? He had said as much, when Ikael had visited him. And… and now Alisaie is not there. Shtola is not there. Ikael is lonely.

“Ika—”

“I miss Thancred,” Ikael blurts out. Just like that, as if on cue, tears blur his vision. “I-I-I—h-he is my best—my best friend and h-he—he,” He pauses to hiccup airily, “He is not back yet and he—” A dry sniffle, “He—he missed my name—my nameday and when he ca—came back he did not spend—he did not get—get to spend more than—than one time w-with me a-and—” A longer, slightly wet sniffle, “I-I-I miss him and I-I wish th-that nasty voice would stop—would stop taking my—my friends!”

Ikael starts to cry in full force. “And—a-and—and I only have four friends but—but I-I don’t know ab-about that really becau—because it’s a—a-a difficult label a-and…”

“Alright, alright, take it easy,” Hien says, holding out his hands. “I… uh… admit I wasn’t expecting all of that, but… ah… I’ll just let you…”

Ikael is busy messily wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He sniffs, loudly.

“There, there,” Hien says, a bit stiltedly.

“You’ll drop your tea,” Ikael mumbles, because he is about to.

Hien glances over, and straightens the teacup just as it threatens to tip and spill. Ikael sniffles approvingly, tugging on his tail.

Hien gives a little cough, and then leans forwards. “I apologize; I am not the best at this. But have heart, my friend! All is not yet lost. We will get them back, I promise.”

His words do not register; Ikael is tired of hearing platitudes. He starts to wipe at his eyes with the back of his hand, hoping that Hien will hug him soon.

Hien’s tone gentles somewhat. “Is there anything I can—”

That will do. Ikael shuffles forwards gladly, pressing his hands to Hien’s abdomen and face into his sternum. He gives a little sniff.

“Uh,” says Hien.

Ikael is just about getting comfortable when he feels a soft chuckle. Intrigued, he tilts his head, flattening his ear to Hien’s chest so he can feel it better.

“I should have known this would be the solution,” Hien says lowly, humour that Ikael does not understand still in his tone. “Ah—no! No, I am not complaining. Please, do what you will.”

Ikael, who has started to hesitantly draw away, slowly moves back. He feels himself begin relax at the warmth, the proximity. “Amsothefula,” he mumbles.

Hien sips at his tea. “Pardon?”

Ikael does not want his own tea; he presses it into Hien’s free hand until he obligingly takes it. “Thank you,” he mumbles.

Something warm and uncomfortably ceramic briefly touches his head—Ikael’s ear flicks at it in annoyance. “You are very welcome, my friend,” Hien says. “Now; we can stay like this if you wish, but I brought some… what is it? Triple Triad? Triple Triad cards, if you wish to take your mind off things.”

They can play strip Triple Triad. Ikael’s tail curls approvingly.

“Okay, but we use my rules,” he agrees. He is… not very good at card games. He spreads his hand over the criss-crossed scar on Hien’s shoulder, feeling the grooves with his thumb. “And you’re not allowed to cheat, or steal my cards.”

Hien sighs dramatically. “Such restrictions!” he groans. When Ikael glances up, he winks.

“Eorzean Triple Triad it is, then,” he says. “I hope you are prepared to lose.”

Ikael does not remember winning more than a single game of Triple Triad. “I-I hope—I hope you are prepared to lose!” he throws back, creatively.

“Your boastful blustering makes me tremble in my sandals,” Hien assures him. “Come now—enough wallowing! It is time to forget the troubles of the day. I’ll even let you go first.”

~*~