#cass & Crystal | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

karygurl · 2 years

Text

infiltration? send the white mage! (ffxiv)

Takes place in Shadowbringers after returning to the Crystarium post-Il Mheg. After the pressure that the Eulmorans have put onto the Scions, perhaps it's time to return the favor. Word count: 8.6k

In the aftermath of the night sky returning to Il Mheg, there was much cause for celebration among both the fae and the people of the Crystarium. Once Cassandra had had a chance to rest, the strange tight feeling in her chest had eased somewhat, no doubt from the high tension in rushing to defeat Titania before the Eulmore army could overwhelm her friends… and the sudden appearance of Emet-Selch, Ascian and founder of the Garlean Empire. Something about the man had set her on edge in a peculiar way that she’d not felt around his other Ascian brethren, but she couldn’t put her finger on what the difference could possibly be. Strangely, the Ascian had introduced himself, asked for cooperation and then left. The odd nature of his offer hummed about in her mind as she headed for the Ocular, eager to discuss whatever the next step was in their grand scheme to save the world.

“If Eulmore’s army is to pose such an obstacle at every turn for us,” Alisaie began after everyone had arrived, “perhaps that is the next region we should focus on.”

Alphinaud nodded his agreement. “If we deprive them of their tenuous armistice by restoring the night sky, then perhaps at least some of the people will see Vauthry and his so-called peace for the lie it is. Without fear of retaliation from the sin eaters he purports to command, his army might fall apart or at the very least, reduced in capability.”

Minfilia nodded in agreement, but paused a moment later. “But… we don’t know where the lightwarden is. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard anything about it, though I was confined to the tower, so…”

“I spent much of my time making inroads with the population, but did not think to inquire as to a possible lair for the lightwarden itself,” Alphinaud confessed. “Perhaps I can return to Kholusia and begin inquiries. Though for obvious reasons, I fear I should avoid Eulmore proper for the time being.”

“That would work to our advantage,” the Exarch announced. “As you were on your way back to the Crystarium, I received an invitation from Eulmore. It seems Vauthry intends to hold a masquerade ball, and I’ve been invited.”

“Planning a party so soon after retreating?” Thancred’s acerbic tone dripped from his words. “He certainly has peculiar priorities.”

“Was it only thee who hath received an invitation?” Urianger asked, and the Exarch nodded.

“Regardless, we now know that there is an event that we may be able to take advantage of. I fear I will be of little direct assistance, as openly bringing a guest would be out of the question. A more obvious trap I cannot fathom, and whoever is associated with me would be put in danger. However, it would be an event ripe for infiltration.”

“To make the most of our efforts, I propose to speak with the inhabitants of Stilltide and Wright, so that I can gather information while still remaining in the wings should aught occur,” Alphinaud offered.

Alisaie immediately lifted a finger to wag at him. “And I’ll be with you to keep you out of trouble, brother dearest.”

Thancred spoke then to Minfilia, her face falling as he did. “It would be best if you remained at the Crystarium. No doubt Vauthry and Ran’jit would be all too eager to put you back in a cage should you be discovered. So our best options to crash a ball would be…”

“I would venture forth, if thou wouldst have me.”

All eyes turned to Urianger. Thancred, to his credit, simply smiled at his friend and clapped a hand onto his arm. “Swimming to the island will be required in order to infiltrate it, and more than that, I need you to take care of Minfilia in my stead.”

The wave of disappointment that swept over Urianger was brief, particularly vanishing at the mention of swimming, and he swiftly agreed to take responsibility for the young oracle.

“That leaves you and me, Thancred?” Cassandra hesitated only a moment before nodding. “My skills in espionage are lacking for sure, but if things go belly up, I’ll be sure to get us out safely. That includes you, Exarch.”

Their positions decided, they moved on to planning. The Exarch would not be making an appearance in Eulmore in person; he would be sending an image in his stead. Though he could do so from the Ocular, the illusion would be more powerful if he could have a piece of the Crystal Tower brought into the canopy of the gaudy city itself. Thancred and Cassandra were tasked to carry a piece with them as they infiltrated the island. They’d swim in at the changing of the guard a few hours ahead of the event, remain in the derelicts for a time to make sure they hadn’t been discovered, then change clothing and sneak into the city. They’d plant the crystal in the main hall near the aetheryte plaza, which would give the Exarch a connection via the aether network to give his projected image greater strength. The Exarch assured them that he was capable of destroying the crystal when he was finished, so there would be no need to retrieve it should a retreat be necessary. Alphinaud and Alisaie would be in Wright and keeping an eye on the city as they conducted their inquiries, just in case their assistance was needed.

The twins headed off to the amaro rookery as Thancred and Cassandra saw to their preparations. Formal clothing and masks commissioned from the Crystalline Mean for them both, waxed canvas bags to keep their items dry as they swam, setting out in clothing that they wouldn’t mind leaving behind, and extra supplies. She followed Thancred's directions to the letter, adding a few additions of her own, before they headed out to to the amaro launch to catch their own flights to Kholusia.

On their way to the launch, they rehearsed a few sparse details of a concocted backstory: a new name for him as a free citizen, and for her as one of the bonded. “First time at a masquerade ball?” Thancred asked her from atop his amaro as she adjusted the pack at her back, trying to make certain it wouldn’t fall off as they flew over the continent.

“Afraid so,” she responded as they took off, raising her voice to be heard over the sound of the rushing wind as they wheeled over Lakeland. “Despite the Wood Wailers’ love of masks, I don’t think masquerades are very common in Gridania.” She was about to mention the banquet in Ul’dah, but caught her tongue. Even though it had been some time since that disastrous evening, and for him an additional five years on top of that, it wasn’t a memory she cared to relive in any part.

“Ishgard is known for their balls. Stuffy affairs normally, but their masquerades have a certain charm,” Thancred said, his tone almost a little wistful. Missing the Source, no doubt.

Cassandra hummed in interest, the sound nearly lost beneath the din of the amaros’ wings. “Been to several of the former, but none of the latter. Lord Edmont requested that Alphinaud, Tataru and I attend a few when we first arrived, to prove that House Fortemps stood behind us and to show our status as wards wasn’t some kind of shameful secret. And after the Dragonsong War, there were so many invitations that I had to ask Artoirel to help me narrow down the offers to only the ones that would embarrass him were I to be absent.” She smiled ruefully. “Noble house drama is too complicated a web for me to comprehend.”

“Not at all,” he insisted, lips pulling in to a wide grin. “It can be fun to put together the pieces, and once you do, it’s hard to take an over-stuffed noble seriously when you know for a fact that he’s sold his wife’s jewels to acquire a painting of a dhalmel that he simply had to possess.”

“Truly??” she asked between bouts of laughter. She couldn’t imagine one of the men from the Ishgardian high houses delighting in something so absurd.

Thancred nodded, eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief that she hadn’t seen in them since they’d been reunited. “With that kidn of knowledge tucked away, those events become less drudgery and more of a circus. Perhaps next time the occasion arises, when we’re not fishing for information, I can be your guide.”

“I’ll take you up on that once we’re home,” she stated firmly with a smile, and was grateful when he returned it. The mere thought of a plan to come, some future certainty, helped to quell the butterflies in her stomach. They would weather this, together, and return home with a bright future waiting for them. She would make it happen.

Between Thancred’s knowledge of the guard rotations and both of their skill in traversing areas under water, they had sent their amaros back to the Crystarium before plunging into the depths of the sea and were able to arrive at the rear end of the derelicts beneath Eulmore with little fanfare. Several of the inhabitants gave them sidelong glances as they rose from the surf, but all turned a blind eye. People washing up from the ocean wasn’t particularly rare here, after all. The pair trudged together toward a particular tent at Thancred’s direction, and his contact there, a miqo’te-- or rather, mystel-- with burgundy hair and a toothy grin was happy to see him, even moreso once he’d carefully unrolled the bag he’d hauled with him and unpacked supplies to hand out to those who lived in the shadow of Eulmore.

Thancred glanced to Cassandra as she began to unload her own burden, and his eyebrows rose when she pulled similar supplies from her own pack. He hadn’t expected her to have thought to bring extra supplies for those in need down here, and he couldn’t help but grin. Of course she had. She was nothing if not helpful to a fault.

At his direction, the mystel bounded off to lead them to those best able to distribute the supplies, their arms steadily lightening as they were passed out. Food other than meol, blankets and cloth, fishing line and small sets of tools. Cassandra’s time in Eulmore had been brief, but Thancred apparently had made a much greater impression. Even though it had been several years since he’d been able to approach due to looking after Minfilia, a few people still remembered him and greeted him with hearty hellos.

Though he did his best to gently remind them that the Crystarium was a safe haven for any who’d wish to leave their place under Eulmore’s thumb, nearly all ignored his offer. The meol was too good, apparently. Unfortunate, but Cassandra understood. Though they wished to help people, she couldn’t force them unless they wanted their help.

As always, she was grateful for Thancred’s expertise. He seemed to know exactly where they could and couldn’t go to stay out of line of sight of the guards, knew who to talk to and when they needed to get ready. They took turns borrowing their mystel friend’s tent in order to change into their formal clothing, Cassandra struggling with the absurd amount of openings and tiny buttons lining the back of her gown. She’d faced and triumphed over similar circumstances in Ishgard when she’d first learned about their layered styles of dress that helped keep out the cold, but the temperate weather of Kholusia meant there was little need for layers and apparently all the more need for showing skin.

The deep red gown had actually been commissioned some time ago from the Crystalline Mean by a Eulmoran, but had never been sent for. It was a wholly impractical garment of course, so it had languished until Katliss had remembered its existence and dug it up. A few tailors had worked quickly to alter it to Cassandra’s form, and suddenly she’d been in possession of a dress that hopefully was close enough to pass as Eulmoran fashion. She couldn’t imagine what the point of it was though, with the wide yet tight openings over her cleavage and at the middle of her back as well as the slit that rode up her leg nearly to her waist. She was no prude, and between the thigh highs and matching red undergarments that covered her particulars the amount of skin out in the open wasn’t that ostentatious, but all the same, this was probably the most exposed she’d ever felt.

With a heaved sigh that she hoped might bring her some courage, she pulled on the delicate shoes with lace at the ankle and lacquered flowers decorating the heel before finally exiting the tent. When Thancred turned to look at her, she’d lowered her face, ostensibly to fuss with the slit at her leg to make sure it fell properly.

“Enchanting.”

“Hopefully they’ll be so enchanted that they forget to speak to me,” she said with a self-conscious huff of laughter, ignoring the warmth rising into her cheeks at the low rumbling tone in that single word. No doubt he was simply trying to reassure her; he’d have said the same no matter what she wore or how she looked.

As a last touch, he held out the mask she was expected to wear for the ball, a black and crimson piece of confectionery with similar lacquered flowered detailing as the heels of her shoes. The mask covered most of her face, curving around to the hollows of her cheeks with a delicate chain hanging from both sides that draped under the curve of her bottom lip.

Cassandra nodded but before accepting it, she combed her fingers through the loose waves of her air-dried hair before fastening it in a loose ponytail over her shoulder. Better to refrain from putting her hair up in the style she’d worn when she’d visited Eulmore before, she figured, then reached out for the mask.

She pulled it from his hands but he held onto the silk ribbons at its sides and stepped around her. Once she’d lifted it to her face, he worked to weave the ribbons in and out of her hair before fastening it, the dexterity of his fingers with the delicate straps surprising her.

“That’s quite a skill,” she remarked as he finished tying the mask, snug and secure.

“Both Minfilias share a love of ribbons,” he remarked quietly, and she could hear the warm ache in his voice.

Nodding once they were both set, Thancred bid farewell to his associate among the Derelicts and they worked their way toward the base of the city. The plan was relatively simple: Thancred, dressed a Eulmoran guard’s uniform that had been smuggled into the Crystarium by a former resident, would escort her into the building under pretense of her being a lost ball attendee. They’d head for the stairs, stopping briefly for him to quickly change and drop off the uniform somewhere in the army headquarters in the tower’s middle levels, before heading up to the Canopy and the masquerade proper.

The plan went off without a hitch. Thancred did all the talking, of course, much to her relief; he’d spun a tale of “this airheaded, well-meaning chit” sneaking off to look for seashells for her hair, or somesuch. To be honest she missed most of what he’d said, her heart hammering in her ears as she did her best to appear suitably chastened. Thankfully, it seemed that the door guard mistook her nerves for remorse and impatiently waved them both inside.

The stairs were no easier than the first time she’d climbed them with Alphinaud; in fact her heels made the climb even more strenuous, but slowly but surely they arrived at the Understory in the middle of the tower, strangely empty as she peered inside. No doubt many of the guards were at posts around the party.

She’d barely turned her back on the space to give Thancred some privacy, her gaze sweeping the stairs for any patrols or wayward guests, when he stepped around her in a tailored suit sleek and yet on the verge of pompous with its detailing and coat tails. Perfect for Eulmore. But how had he changed so quickly? She lifted her eyes from his outfit to his face to see a smirk pulling at his lips. He’d done that to show off, hadn’t he? She exhaled sharply with a smile. This man.

Cassandra wordlessly helped him with his mask when he lifted it to his face, reaching out for its ties though he hadn’t asked for her assistance. Though her fingers were nowhere near as deft as his, she still ensured that the mask was firmly in place and absently pulled a few locks of his hair free so that they wouldn’t snag uncomfortably. Both of their outfits now in place, they resumed their ascent.

The tower gave her even more chills now than it had during her first visit, almost humming around them as they climbed the stairs. The music swelled as they rose, as did the strange feeling in her chest, almost as if it were stiffening, pressure squeezing it tight. As they arrived at a doorway and Thancred cracked it open, looking for anyone who might notice their entrance, her hand rose to her throat to try and assuage the worrying sensation. Surely it was nothing, simply nerves?

Thancred’s eyes turned to her, and before he could ask, she nodded at him with a smile. She was fine, it must simply be apprehension making her jittery. Espionage wasn’t something she had ever been comfortable with, but surely Thancred had this handled, and the mask would prevent anyone from recognizing her.

His searching gaze didn’t let up for another moment, but he offered her a small smile in return and his arm. Wrapping her fingers around his elbow, she followed as he took one more look out into the hallway and then slipped them both past the door and onto a walkway that led directly to the Canopy.

The pair turned the corner into the open main floor, and their senses were assaulted with the myriad of overly opulent delights at every turn. The music rose to fill and echo within the soaring space overhead, food and drink placed strategically about the hall with their potent aromas wafting from every corner, conversation ebbed and flowed, laughter echoed in high pitched raucous nattering. Were it not so manufactured and fake, it might actually be inviting.

Cassandra pasted a smile onto her face, determined to not let her thoughts show as they usually did. She kept her hands wrapped lightly around Thancred’s elbow, likewise determined to not crush his arm in a tight worried grip and give away her anxiety.

She remained mute as Thancred greeted several nobles-- free citizens, she reminded herself-- with gusto, and they returned his greeting before they moved on again.

“Do you know them?”

“Not at all.”

Gods, she wished she had his confidence. Primals she could face, but scheming nobility? She’d fumbled far too much in Ishgard even after she’d become some kind of figurehead whose missteps were easily forgotten, and still hadn’t learned enough to feel confident in the slightest. Thank goodness he was here with her.

Had she been an outside observer, she would have easily believed Thancred was one of the free citizens of Eulmore. He had the confidence, the charisma, and projected the signature carefree attitude of someone who expected luxury with ease. How did he do it? She hoped she looked the part of a bonded citizen next to him, at awe at everything he did. It had been a good cover for the stumbling she knew she’d be prone to. And it had worked the last time she’d been in Eulmore with Alphinaud, had it not?

Their amble around the floor led them toward one of the tables piled high with assortments of food and bottles of wine. “Might as well avail ourselves of the luxuries while we’re here. Care for a bite?”

Her eyes scanned the food, trying to tamp down on the disgust she felt thinking of the people in the Derelicts subsisting on nothing but meol. The smells wafting from the dishes were pleasing but something about the food itself was revolting, turning her stomach in a sudden lurch. She shook her head quickly, hoping her reticence wasn’t noticed or perhaps chalked up to maidenly vanity.

“Don’t see anything to your liking?” he asked quietly, lightly, in case anyone was listening.

When Cassandra shook her head once more, he nodded and continued their circuit of the room on their way to the aetheryte. As they passed it she reached down and fussed with the lace at her ankle, while gently letting the blue crystal the Exarch had entrusted her with slip from her fingers and sink to the bottom of the shallow pool. To her surprise, a soft Thank you echoed in her mind in the Exarch’s voice. He must have been waiting for her and the connection was now made. Thank goodness, at least part of their plan had been accomplished. She allowed herself a brief moment to close her eyes and breathe-- regardless of what happened the rest of the night, that much at least was a success.

“Are you all right, my lady?” the voice that she’d heard in her head was suddenly in her ear and her face snapped up to see the Exarch kneeling next to her. He wore his robes as always, though he sported a full face harlequin mask beneath the deep cowl. She blinked as she accepted his hand, only the hum of aether beneath her fingertips giving away his illusion. Had she closed her eyes for that long, or had he simply blinked into existence? There was still time before his meeting with Vauthry; she hadn’t expected him to appear so soon, or so suddenly.

As she stood, Thancred nodded at their new companion. “Care to take a turn with her before your audience?” he offered lightly, eyes carefully sweeping the room.

Cassandra understood what Thancred was asking: he wanted to do what he did best, slipping into the shadows, without her at his side. It was no slight against her, and she knew it; she wanted him to succeed, and that meant leaving her to her own devices for a while while he put his skills to use. She placed a hand on his forearm, squeezing gently in reassurance before stepping back. Thancred gave her an exaggerated bow (though was it truly exaggerated, or was just that level of pomp expected in Eulmore?) before sauntering off and she quickly lost sight of him. Damn, but he was good at that.

“Well then,” she turned to the Exarch with a smile. “Are you my guest, or am I yours?”

“I believe we are both guests,” he said cheerfully as he pulled her arm to the crook of his elbow, “And we can experience this adventure together however we see fit.”

They’d only just stepped away from the aetheryte when the music swelled and nearly every couple in the Canopy stepped forward, surging toward the open plaza and taking up a position with clasped hands raised.

A dance. And they were in the middle of a sea of couples.

“I don’t know this dance,” she murmured, nearly in a panic. She wasn’t a poor dancer, but she wasn’t good at picking up steps on the fly, she needed practice. Would it be too visible if they were to sneak out to the balcony, perhaps? Would it be any better to visibly stumble her way through a dance she didn't know, calling attention to herself amid all of these people?

The Exarch shifted her hand again back into his palm, and once he’d lifted their hands to match the others on the floor, he turned to her with his head slightly bowed. “Fortunately it’s one I’ve learned, and a rather simple one at that. Unless you would prefer to quit the floor? I would leave the decision to you.”

He was asking her to trust his judgment, in so many words. He believed that this was something she was capable of. She nodded in a split second decision and though his entire face was covered, she could feel the smile behind the mask that was meant for her.

The strings rose together with one vibrato note, shivering in the air building anticipation, and then the rest of the ensemble began to play and the first step began.

The Exarch was right, the dance truly was simple. The steps were quite basic, the spectacle of it created by the upper bodies of the couples tipping back and forth though even that was an easy pattern. She quickly realized that the dance wasn’t for the sake of the dancers themselves; it was for those observing, to see couples in an inner and outer circle moving in grand observable gestures. How very like Eulmore, to pretend to be lavish and decadent for all but have its opulence truthfully meant for the enjoyment of the one overseeing it. Her eyes darted toward the lift to Vauthry’s chambers, but she quickly looked away and instead tried to concentrate on her dance with the Exarch.

The swish of his robes and the swaying slit in her gown were accentuated by the basic pivoting steps that led them around and around the inner circle of dancers. “I’m glad the dance is as simple as it is,” she murmured.

“Gaudy, but unsophisticated. Like much in this place.”

She bit down on her laughter, trying to remain quiet. “I was thinking the same.” Her voice lowered further. “The food is… strange, though. I’d suggest not partaking… if you’re even able to, that is.”

“The food?” he murmured, head turning slightly toward one of the expansive tables laden down with foodstuffs. “Understood. Hopefully the lack of enjoyable victuals isn’t ruining your adventure?”

She chuckled. “The glitz and glamor are a spectacle for certain, but I’d prefer venturing to new places and getting to know people my own way.” Her eyes scanned the people around them. “Helping people, openly. Not working against them. Though unfortunately the former almost always ends up requiring the latter.”

After a particularly deep dip, they both snapped upright and she found herself pressed up against him as they moved, their similar heights even more pronounced. “Take heart, my friend. There will be many more adventures ahead of you, more memorable than even this.”

He had such faith in her, it confused her but also heartened her so much. “I hope you'll be there when--”

“Ah, the friend of our master is enjoying the reception!”

The Exarch halted his steps, Cassandra stopping with him, when the two fanciful jongleurs in Vauthry’s employ moved toward them in unison. The other dancers on the floor, forced to dodge them, murmured aghast until they saw just who had stopped them and then they moved aside gracefully.

“Our master awaits you, if you’ll mind our interception!”

Cassandra curtsied low, praying that the two women wouldn’t recognize her from her previous disastrous visit to Eulmore. Thankfully, they seemed more interested in Vauthry’s lauded guest.

The Exarch nodded slowly, before turning back to Cassandra and leaning forward to press her hand to the molded lips of his mask. “Find your partner, and be safe,” he murmured before releasing her and following the two comical assistants.

Cassandra followed after them, if only to use their wake to dodge the dancing couples about the floor. Once she was free of their spinning movements however, she wasn’t quite sure what to do. Her eyes swept the wide room but didn’t see Thancred anywhere. Should she hunt him down, or remain in one place? She didn’t want to disrupt his information gathering, and besides, his eyes rarely missed anything, so if she stayed put, then surely he would come across her at some point. And so she stayed, watching, listening in to any gossip she could glean from those standing nearby, but didn't encounter much beyond useless gossip that made her feel so out of place. It didn't help that the emotional hums she'd felt from those around her had all been quiet little hums. Carefree. Shallow. She'd expected as much from her previous visit, but having this vapid superficial hum around her when the world was suffering clenched her heart in an iron grip.

She’d been so busy watching the crowds that she’d missed the tall form slowly but confidently striding up to her until he was nearly upon her, the hunch in his shoulders and the red Ascian mask covering half of his face unmistakable. How--?

“Attending a lavish ball and I didn’t even warrant an invitation?” he remarked as he stood next to her, hands sweeping out in mock outrage. “One might begin to think you didn’t desire my company.”

Her eyes snapped from him to the crowd again. No one seemed to be paying the two of them any mind despite the man’s theatrics, and Thancred was still nowhere in sight. Emet-Selch seemed to be all words and no plans so far as she’d seen in his brief introduction, and despite his flair for the dramatic, surely he wouldn’t create chaos in the middle of the masquerade? He hadn’t seemed eager to cause a commotion in the Crystarium. But there was no telling if his words could be even remotely trusted, what his plans may be, or if he was hiding something to unleash on them. She shouldn’t underestimate him.

He noticed her watching the crowd warily and sighed. “None here would recognize this mask, save perhaps one. I’m simply another guest at the masquerade to these pitiful half-lifes. Would you care to indulge me with your company? Parties such as this are so dull without a good conversation partner.”

“What could you possibly want to talk about with me?” she asked in hushed tones, her eyes darting toward him and then back at the crowd. “You know who I am, and that I will do everything to stop you from another Rejoining. What more could we have to discuss?”

The disdain dripping from his voice was unmistakable. “Is that all you think about? Are you so eager to craft your entire persona around being ‘the hero’ that you’re above discussing the weather?”

She turned to him then, incredulous. “What weather? There’s only ever light outside!”

“As a permanent fixture of the world, it is therefore an eternal topic of discussion, is it not?” Emet-Selch sighed heavily. “Well then, what would you talk about with the others about the floor? The gaudy decorations, perhaps? The garish fashion and soulless, vapid guests?”

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed slightly, watching his bored expression that gave nothing away. “If you think so little of this party, why are you here?”

“I would ask the same of you,” he responded, raising an eyebrow. “We both know your presence here isn’t due to the celebrations themselves.”

“Fine, then. Where is Kholusia’s lightwarden?” she asked, voice low, nervousness fluttering madly in her chest. Was she making a mistake asking him directly? Then again, he must already be aware of their plans to eliminate the lightwardens. What did she have to lose?

His lips curved into a wicked grin at the lower edge of his mask. “Ah, she speaks her mind at last. And what makes you think I know its whereabouts?”

“They’re integral to your plan. You’ve played your game long enough that I know you’re too good to not know the position of the pawns on the board.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, dearest hero, least of all with me.” He cocked his head then, his sharp yellow gaze watching her, assessing from behind his mask. “Though it won’t hurt to tell you that you’re closer than you know.”

Could she trust that he was telling the truth? Or did he seek to mislead her and have her chase down false leads? “It’s below the tower then?”

Emet-Selch sighed so heavily then, he nearly folded inward on himself as he allowed his head to droop. “What’s the use of a riddle if you’re just going to interpret it literally?”

“What’s the point of answering a question with a riddle in the first place??” she hissed back. Something about him rose her hackles, and she couldn’t describe why. She’d been taunted by Ascians before, and Emet-Selch’s words were hardly more cryptic than those of his brethren; on the contrary, he was far from forthcoming but neither was he obtuse. But something about him made her want to fight. “Either it doesn't matter if we know, or it does. Why leave it up to chance?”

He was still giving her that unamused look, his tone mockingly slow as if pointing out something that should have been patently obvious. “To observe your methods. I can hardly determine whether we’re suited to be allies if I’m unfamiliar with how you operate.”

“‘How I operate’??” Cassandra bit back her words, trying to temper the volume of her voice. The last thing she needed to do was bring attention to herself. “I don’t do games, Emet-Selch. Either aid us if you truly wish, or stand aside. You may be immortal, but our lives are limited enough as it is.”

His eyes seemed to dim then, his expression falling from derision to something… remote. Unreachable. He reached out then, one finger following the edge of her mask down her face and onto the line of her jaw. “That, I know all too well.” Leaning forward, his gloved finger lingered while his thumb hovered over her lip, the delicate chain at her chin growing warm. “Happy hunting.”

Emet-Selch pulled his hand away and in the same movement turned to leave with an exaggerated flippant flick of his wrist, his slow tired movements accentuated by his perpetual stooped shoulders. She watched him leave, the edge of her cheek tingling from the scrape of his glove, and once he’d disappeared from her sight around a corner, she pivoted and headed in the opposite direction with purposeful strides, not wanting to stand there any longer. She felt too exposed, needed to shake the burst of… whatever that had been, that had risen up in her. For much of the evening her nerves had keep her silent, but with him they’d nearly led to an outburst. Where in the seven hells had that come from?

She strode purposefully for the open air walkway that surrounded the Canopy, hoping that leaving the crush of the crowd inside would help her head to clear. Perhaps Thancred would spot her easier if she were alone and not one face in a sea of them.

She inhaled the sea breeze that tugged at and threaded through the low ponytail at her shoulder as she stepped out onto the suspended walkway over the Derelicts. The path was specifically created to hang out over the edge of the island, hiding the plight of those below from sight, and she leaned against the railing to instead look out over the horizon and try to make out the sun setting behind the glare of light.

The sight was demoralizing, were she to be honest with herself. Before she’d come to the First, she couldn’t fathom the concept of light as a source of pain or misery. But now that she was here, observing it take over and stagnate overhead, robbing this world’s people of any chance of peace, she had finally understood the calamity that the Exarch and Minfilia had worked so hard to delay and avert. Watching the light aether suffuse and stale and stand still was terrifying, and she needed to stop it.

“Taking in the beauty? Perhaps I could fetch a mirror for you instead.”

Cassandra had been so wrapped up in her musing that she startled at the congenial voice next to her. Too distracted again. With a quickly indrawn breath, she attempted to turn in a somewhat coordinated manner to the tall man standing at her side, his gaudy dodo mask encrusted with gemstones.

He offered her a deep bow and a wide smile that she certainly didn’t trust, though she returned his gesture with what she hoped was an appropriate curtsy all the same.

“It’s quite an honor to spy a fresh face! I don’t recognize you. Even with the masks, I know most of of the residents of Eulmore. How are you enjoying the masquerade, mysterious damsel?”

“It’s… like a dream,” she hedged. A dream of something pretty but wrong, something that became less beautiful and more horrific the longer one stared.

The man leaned in, eyes sweeping over her quickly and lowering his voice to what she assumed was meant to be sultry murmur. “Then don’t wake up, angel. I’d like to stay a while. Unless your patron isn’t one for sharing?”

She blinked, not sure how to respond to that; was she even supposed to? She knew what he was implying but she was a long way from Buscarron’s Druthers, from the drunks who had propositioned her and were easily turned aside with a laugh and failing that, a jab from her elbow. The unspoken rules of high society were ever elusive to her.

At her silence, he chuckled as if he’d simply told a joke, though somehow she doubted that had been the case. “To whom do we owe the pleasure of your company? Perhaps someone I know?”

Cassandra had practiced their cover story, had recited it over and over in her head, but now when she needed it the most, it vanished from her mind and left her standing there wide eyed and with no response to offer. The air seized in her lungs and any words she attempted to summon turned to ash on her tongue.

The man’s eyebrows rose as her silence stretched on, then he settled into another smile. “Come, then, I hear the next dance is about to begin. We’ll take a turn about the floor together and see if we can spot your keeper.”

He reached down, snatched one of her hands in his, then raised it in what she assumed was some kind of deferential manner before pulling her along to the dance floor. Was this all right? She didn’t particularly want to dance with this man, but she couldn’t think of a polite way to extricate herself. Besides that, did a bonded citizen have the right to refuse a free citizen of Eulmore? And surely causing a scene would be worse than acquiescing? It was only a dance, she could hang on for that long.

The man in the dodo mask pulled her to the outer circle of dancers, the hand grasping hers turning it in his grip. “There now, you’re a natural. Have you been taught--”

“There you are.”

Cassandra struggled to remain still and not exhale in abject relief at the familiar voice, Thancred appearing at her side as if from thin air and wrapping his arm around her waist. The simple reassurance of his touch had her leaning against him more than she intended.

The man eyed Thancred’s tight hold on her briefly before he allowed his hand to slip away from hers. After giving Thancred a wink and a nudge in the shoulder, the man wordlessly bowed to excuse himself. Thancred accepted the gesture with a genial smile and pulled her hand into his free one once he was out of the way.

“Are you all right?”

Cassandra sighed heavily, trying to keep from falling against him entirely as her tension fled. “Embarrassed is all.”

Before she could say more, the music swelled around them and the couples all moved this way and that to take up their positions. Right, the man had said another number was about to begin.

Thancred lifted her hand between them, lowering his head to press his lips to her knuckles with the barest hint of pressure before he spoke quietly, the words only for her. “Care to dance? It would give us a chance to speak.”

She nodded immediately, the private smile that curved his lips in response nearly but not quite hidden behind her hand. She didn’t need justification to dance, not if it was with him.

His arm remained at her waist as their joined hands rose to their sides, and she recognized the dance as one she’d spied earlier when she’d been waiting for him and watching the crowd. Thankfully, she had the general gist of the movements, and Thancred’s lead allowed them both to step to the rhythm alongside the rest of the crowd of dancers with relative ease.

“What happened?” he began, his gaze darting to sweep their surroundings for a moment before returning to focus on her.

Her lips pulled into a frown; she didn’t particularly want to admit to her failure, but keeping things from him served no purpose. “I just choked over a very easy question. Nothing happened, just… nerves. Subterfuge will never be something I’m good at.”

He hummed in dissent. “The fault lies with me. How did you end up on your own?”

As she explained the events that led to the Exarch being called away and Emet-Selch approaching her, she felt his fingers at her side curl tighter against her.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked again, his voice lower than before. His eyes were carefully sweeping over every inch of her with an intense focus that left her mouth dry. It made her feel strangely exposed.

Thancred was ashamed that he hadn’t noticed that Cassandra had been alone. She’d been right to stay in one place, the better for him to notice her as he took stock of the room, but somehow he’d managed to miss her. How could he have missed her? Beyond the dress that put so much of her on display, she was real in a way no others in this entire misbegotten city were, to the point that not even keeping herself safe was enough to jeopardize her genuine nature. Not ideal for a mission requiring subterfuge, perhaps, but as far as their companions went, she had still been the best choice to accompany him. Should they encounter the lightwarden themselves, she had the best chance of getting them out alive. For that matter, it was also the case should the city itself turn on them.

Honestly, there shouldn’t have even been a point where Cassandra needed to respond and offer answers, he should have been beside her. He should have realized that the arrogant leader of Eulmore would call for the Exarch at his whim rather than the appointed time. Still, he’d thought he’d had a moment to do what he did best: listen in from the shadows. Cassandra, as skilled and powerful as she was, was still a novice in stealth. He’d wanted just a short while to listen rather than cajole, in case that might yield different results, but alas, he’d had no luck whether from the shadows or from his precisely crafted questions. Though some of the free peoples of Eulmore were eager to speak of the sin eaters on the upper levels that resided with Vauthry, as if being in their presence was some honor to be proud of, none had seen any out of the ordinary or particularly powerful that would imply to him that a lightwarden was present.

If not here, then where? He fervently hoped that it wouldn’t come to that; perhaps Alphinaud had seen or heard something come alight in his efforts.

“Really, I’m fine,” she insisted, and that brought him back to the present, her small smile an attempt to reassure him. She squeezed his hand, and reflexively, he returned the pressure. “Did you have any luck?” When he shook his head, she sighed. “Me either, beyond that madman’s riddle, if it’s even worth considering.”

“It’s more than I’ve heard all evening,” Thancred offered, his smile returning. “Perhaps I should be taking lessons from you.”

The thought was so absurd, she couldn’t help but smile. “I’d happily teach you what I know, though unfortunately it boils down to simply ‘find an Ascian and hope they wish to brag about something instead of kill you outright.’ It’s an awfully rare occurrence, unfortunately.”

The thought of Emet-Selch speaking to her gave him pause. Though Thancred hadn’t seen them speaking together tonight, even during their first encounter there had been something about the way the Ascian’s eyes lingered on her as if he found it difficult to pull them away, and it bothered him. The weight in that gaze had felt more personal than simply an Ascian contemplating the Warrior of Light.

Thancred coaxed Cassandra into going over the conversation she’d shared with the Ascian one more time, but there wasn’t enough there to fill in the gaps. Something about it needled at him; he’d need to find a way to get some answers from the bastard.

If he’d taken to giving her hints and riddles, no doubt he’d be back sooner than any of them wanted. Thancred needed a plan for that, too.

Once the dance had ended, he released her waist but not her hand, gently pulling her along to the the outer walkway. When he found a secluded spot with no other prying eyes about for the moment, he allowed her hand to slip from his grip and he leaned his elbows onto the railing. Though the sun had set, light shone overhead as it always did. Unending, unchanging.

Cassandra pressed herself against the railing next to him, eyes looking down though she couldn’t see the derelicts that she knew were below their feet.

“Where did you find her?” The question fell unbidden from her lips, and after a moment, she continued. “The last time you were here, I mean.”

He knew who she was asking about, even before she elaborated.

Minfilia.

His eyes never left the horizon, though his mind retraced the path he’d taken, the steps he’d raced to cover. His voice was flat when he responded. “In the depths of the tower. Below the waterline.”

Cassandra inhaled sharply, her heart clenching tight in her chest. That meant… not just a cell, but one with no windows? That poor girl…

She reached out, resting her hand on his sleeve. “It can’t have been easy for you, coming back here. We’ll find a way to fix… this place,” she said, sounding like a promise. “It may not be perfect, but I--”

A bellow from above shook him out of his reverie, and he and Cassandra shared a look before he immediately pulled her toward the main circling stairwell that led down and out of the tower. The bellowing continued, punctuated with heavy thumping; apparently the meeting with the Exarch had ended, and it hadn’t gone the way Vauthry had hoped. Not that this outcome was a surprise; certainly, it was the one truly predictable thing about the evening.

Thancred hoped that the Exarch had been correct in his assertion that once his projection was finished with its work, or forcibly destroyed, the crystal left in the fountain would take care of itself. For him and Cassandra, it was time to leave.

He held her hand as they ran down the stairs, hoping to get to the bottom and out the main gate before Vauthry had any time to finish his tantrum and bellow orders. It brought to mind his escape from the tower with Minfilia, though at least this time they were both dressed to fit in as just another pair of guests as far as anyone knew.

And Cassandra’s hand felt different in his. He’d grabbed Minfilia’s wrist, desperate to pull her to safety, but he hadn’t felt right doing the same to his current companion. A defenseless young girl was different from the vaunted Warrior of Light. Her delicate fingers curled around his, their constant pressure serving to remind him that she was with him.

When she squeezed tighter in panic, he felt the angle of her grip change and he pivoted just in time to catch her as she pitched forward. Surefooted, he straddled two steps as he pulled her close, her body pressed to his with their hands still intertwined.

Exhaling heavily in shock, she took a moment to replant her feet and nodded stiffly to him. Even with their hurried flight from the tower, he was reluctant to let her go but stepped back and continued forward, moderating his pace more carefully and keeping her hand tucked away in his.

One the base of the spiraling staircase was finally in sight, he slowed his descent and pulled Cassandra tighter to his side, murmuring to her, “Laugh with me.”

Her awkward barked laughter would have had him wincing, were he not already schooling his expression. Changing tactics quickly, he continued, “Ah, if only you had something amusing to laugh at, for instance the time my charge and I discovered all of Urianger’s clothing had been replaced with flower garlands by the pixies. He emerged from the Bookman’s Shelves to greet us wrapped in nothing but blooms, looking like nothing so much as a float in a Little Ladies’ Day parade…”

Her laughter then was genuine, perfect, the sound warming him. He added in his own laughter to sell the act and merrily waved at the guards at the door, acting for all the world as if they were two carefree nobles out for a bit of air.

When one of the guards tried to stop them, Thancred shooed them off with a haughty gesture and another laugh and the two of them paraded their way through Gatetown, keeping up the merry charade.

Once they’d passed the large cliff that hid the wretchedness of the outer hovels from the gates of the city, they rested against the side of the stone to shake off the feeling of the tower.

“I wish we’d had better luck,” she murmured, her tone holding a hint of bitterness. “If only I’d tried harder--”

“Your job was to infiltrate with me and ensure that we both made it out alive,” he reminded her gently, “and by my estimate, you’ve done just that. Well done, Cassandra.” The buoyant smile that lifted the corners of her lips was contagious, its warmth spreading into his chest. He held out his arm to her, admittedly not in an effort to keep up the charade but just to keep her close. “Care to join me on a walk to Wright? I believe there’s a particular pair of twins who await our arrival.”

She accepted his arm gratefully. Somehow, despite the myriad of tense and stressful moments at the ball that nearly made her break out in a cold sweat just thinking about them, she wasn’t quite ready for the evening to end.

“Are you planning on keeping your dress?”

She blinked, considering the question as they walked arm in arm. “I… I’m not sure? I hadn’t considered it beyond tonight. I suppose it’s tailored for me personally now, though I can’t imagine where else I could possibly wear it. Isn’t it a bit much?”

Thancred had no need to cast his eyes over the figure beside him to remind himself how the dress looked; he’d already memorized the way the deep crimson highlighted the fawn tones of her skin, the teasing window to the curve of her spine, the impossibly high slit and near sheer stockings that hinted at the shapely legs beneath. He had no doubt the image would haunt him for nights to come, regardless of whether she ever wore it again. “I believe you promised me an Ishgardian ball, when we return. Perhaps it might be suitable, if you can manage to keep from freezing to death in it.”

Her laughter settled a tension in his chest that he couldn’t define. The road to Wright ahead of them was devoid of danger as far as he could sense, Minfilia was safe in the Crystarium, and he had a woman on his arm. Not just any woman, but the one who proffered the closest thing to the concept of “home” that he’d ever felt, who was finally by his side after years of waiting for her arrival. For the first time in a long time, he was truly content with where he stood.

#ffxiv #shadowbringers spoilers #cassandra tygrova #thancred waters #crystal exarch #emet-selch #the title is a joke with my spouse #for all the times this game has been like #“stealth mission? send the white mage!”#“diplomacy? send the white mage!”#“grocery run? send the white mage!”#anyway this really was just an excuse to have a masquerade ball somewhere #and let cass have a fun time with her boyfriends #as a treat <3 #while wearing the nier casting gown hahaha

2 notes · View notes