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the-leyline-directory · 3 months

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||-Lion's Share-|| (Silvaire x Krile Drabble)

[[[[A technically short drabble of a Silvaire and Krile interaction! It's set right before Shadowbrings \o/ ((They don't admit to feelings till Post Endwalker/Dawntrail start! It's a very long con)) So this is a good point of showing how they get along and interact at the mid point/before Silvaire deals with all his Shadowbringers(Emet) trauma+history confrontation --- sorry for the long preface! I'm a nervous nelly!]]]]

The quiet of Mor Dhona's dusk was always punctuated by those last few idle patrons coming too and fro below the balcony. It was never a nuisance, no, instead a common reminder of a living, breathing, world that was beyond the stone walls and wooden floorboards; A world where adventurers still braved the wilds, and the dangers that lurked within. A world where people - young and old alike - sought to better their lives through the honest work of their own hands.

A place that Silvaire often longed for - and a home he often missed when he lingered too long in the depths of memories.

It was a strange existence.

Twilight itself was peppered by those last few birdsong echoes that never seemed to die. As if there were some unseen nest somewhere within the cavities of old stonework - perhaps a pair of lovebirds continued to serenade each other in defiance of the oncoming night. The air was always cool with the distance from the lake - chilled winds pushed by the ghosts of war - that, even on a difficult day like this one, that temperate chill eased the burning hearts of many. Peppered rain had stopped a few hours ago, and the last traces of cloud cover now faded into the indigo sky, drifting wings of broken color.

Pages turned atop the table before him in the coming quiet, puddles had dried - soaked into the parched wood with greed - and now the gentle breeze left his mind calm and ready to continue the seemingly impossible task of studies; piles of tomes from his own collection brought to the Rising Stones in hopes to solve this unforeseen predicament of soulless husks-

Amber eyes flicked up below dark lashes when the sharp creak of unoiled hinges rang as an alarm to this broken isolation, snake slit pupils an empty black, now locked on the young woman who walked into the alcove (her expressive features crinkled with just as much disdain for the loud whine of the door as he), a faint dark hugging under bright blue as her gaze drifted across the way in her walk towards the railing - a tiredness clung to each part of the Lalafell as she came to rest against the cool granite with an obvious sigh of exhaustion.

For a few heartbeats, he said nothing. Stilled as the stone she leaned upon. Studying that peaceful quiet while the tippering of birdsong began to finally fade, watching how - even from the distance between them - the lord could feel the weight that burdened laxed shoulders.

“Any changes?”

The deep rumble of his voice snapped Krile from her solitary thoughts - a gentle gasp escaping with a clerical swear buried beneath decorum as she pushed herself from the lean - turning to the Elezen with bright eyes wide, yet settling with a visible lax of her posture as a gentle smile graced tired features. As if his presence held no threat to her weakened state.

“Unfortunately no, but they’ve gotten none worse either.” In the quiet din of the coming night Krile’s voice carried the obvious lilt of overburdened worry, tender fingers rising to brush aside a long strand of chestnut hair behind her ear - strands that had long come undone from the tail she’d pulled it into when the sun had first tasted the horizon. “Thancred seems a bit more pale than the others, but I hope it’s just my imagination…”

He hummed a note of acknowledgment, nodding in his farce of interest, before reaching for a teacup to drink; hiding behind the liquid in lieu of conversation as honeyed-amber glanced back to the pages he’d been skimming. Nothing here would undo the mystery of a hijacked soul, and neither would anything in this Eorzean language answer the question of aetherial rifts.

“Oh, you brewed tea?” Small footsteps neared and again he glanced towards her to watch the bobbing motion of those sewn cat-ears atop her hood. “What did you pick?”

Uninvited (No, he made no motion to stop her, or even hint at such discomfort) Krile moved to sit across from him, moving a stack of tomes to the side so she could better see him, tilting her head as she sometimes did while waiting for his answer.

He didn’t know. Taste had long dwindled in the mercy of a deadman’s tongue.

With a crooked brow and a half smile, he motioned towards the spare cup that had come with the set (He’d not expected company, yet he brought two) and gave his half truth.

“Feel free to indulge. I wasn’t quite attentive to the package.”

There came the slight furrow, her lips thinned as she studied his demeanor for a pause before beaming with that unabashed acceptance. No, from the glint of mischief across her stare it was a call of his bluff. A challenge to be toppled. A lie to catch.

Clinking porcelain paired with paper pages as they both went about their business. The woman’s mature voice offering comments here and there for the fact the temperature had long iced over of the tea he was drinking, the covered kettle itself being little more than lukewarm - though the warmth of her bright company seemed to ease the frigid winds that covered the balcony around him, enough so that as he tapped a forefinger to his temple he couldn’t help but glance anew to the Lalafell across from him as she settled into her seat with drink in hand-

Only for her expression to sour as she sputtered and coughed - careful and polite to place the teacup back to saucer despite the somewhat comical disgust.

“It’s so-!” Her lips were pinched as tight as her eyes, the locks of brown swaying in time with the reactionary shake of her head to and fro in abject denial. “-Bitter! By the gods Silvaire, how long did you let that steep?”

The Elezen’s palm slid down from his temple to rest his chin within it, tapping his pinky against his lip as he tried to deny the mirthful smile that pulled at it. He failed of course, as he often did whenever she caught him alone. “Too long it seems.”

“I’d think you a member of the forum with a dedication like that.” Small fingers pushed the offending cup from her side, obviously no longer interested in it as she sighed, silence once again draping between them as if the coming night.

He made no motion to break it this time, at least not at first, continuing his pretending attempt to study the novels he’d already memorized, content to let the calm lay in place of conversation as each page turned. Again, and again, and again.

Why hadn’t she left?

Turning his gaze from reading ink to reading her posture, he stared at his companion for a few seconds in study, glancing over the now more direct sight of her tired complexion - though this physical weariness was not the burden that the scholar seemed to hold. It was the way her own attention seemed find focus in the mirror of that discarded bitter poison.

As if answers to the unspoken lingered in her own image.

“I can find something else if you’d prefer.” A statement he’d not meant to speak. Compassion to ease the weight across her features.

Krile’s eyes darted to his own within a heartbeat, a flush rising across her features as the young woman forced a smile; pushing down the obvious debate that plagued her inner thoughts. “No, no it’s alright, I’m fine.”

She answered the unaired question without batting an eye. His lip rose with a halfhearted smile in turn; and once more spoke before instinct could bite his light-bound words.

“You don’t have to be.”

Why did he say such a thing?

Why did she look at him with that slight bafflement? Bright blues slowly caressing his features as he let her - allowed her to see the unspoken - that lingered feeling that made him swallow whatever words remained. Overstepping the boundaries of this limited companionship, that is what he was doing. Opening the door he doubted any would step through.

“…Ishgardian healers came by today. They’d come to offer their services for the Scions.” Her hands rested atop the oak, fingertips sliding across the cold porcelain. “Of course, I was thankful for their assistance, I can’t be the only one keeping our friend’s bodies intact - I’d be insane to think otherwise…”

“…And yet?”

Krile closed her eyes and inhaled a long slow breath, before exhaling sharply, now staring down to her own clasped grip as thumb ran along forefinger. “You might not understand this, but I can always tell when someone is looking down on me. Metaphorically of course - given my stature, nothing otherwise is expected.”

Her pause wasn’t long, but his silence was filled with patience, the tomes before him ignored in favor to watch those minute mannerisms as she continued;

“I’ve always had the disadvantage of being different, both from my blessing, and often in pair with not being seen as… ‘equal’ as it were. A child quite often in the eyes of others - and despite how many achievements I manage, how powerful I prove myself to be, I’ll never be completely free from the judgment of my heritage or what others believe they know of me.”

Silvaire spoke now with a quietness that rumbled the lower notes of his voice, as if speaking his question too loudly would scare her from an answer. “And these healers thought you lesser?”

A hesitant nod followed, and she sighed audibly before resting her head atop the table, her cheek atop crossed arms as she looked out to the painted horizon. “Perhaps I’m just overly tired. Or the way they all but pushed me from the room with that overly-sweet tone just… rubbed me the wrong way.” Frustration dripped across her words as thin brows furrowed with her frown.

It was an expression he didn’t often get to see on her face, and just as quickly as it had come, it was gone - replaced with another long inhale, exhale, and those bright blues were back to sitting straight and staring at him.

That tender smile easy on her lips.

“Sorry, sorry. I know you’re not the kind to listen to the woes of others.” There was a drift to her attention as those unruly strands were once more tucked away. “I’ll be alright. It’s something of a personal gripe.”

He hummed, glancing down to the pages under his palm (The words blank in black ink, the more interesting topic sat before him) he gave a moment of pause before amber rose again - then back down, as if to deny himself a thought. The lord’s tongue darted across his lip as he gave in to that clawing light and spoke;

“Actually I’m fairly good at listening.”

Curiosity danced across the sky of her eyes, that same tilt she’d once more used in their talks alone as Krile hummed almost a mirror of one of his own. “Really? That’s a trait I’ve not seen yet.”

Silvaire bowed his head as a soft laugh broke free, the silken black of his hair drifting across his shoulders as it pooled atop the novel - pulled back to curtain his eyes from the sunset as he straightened only enough to remain at an easy level for his shorter companion.

“There’s many things you’ve not seen of me.”

Now it was her turn to laugh - a bright sound, light and airy despite the exhaustion that plagued her - a musical lilt that felt keenly familiar within the memories locked in the dark.

Would he tempt to open that door again? Honesty for she who could read his lies?

Pulling his hair back across his shoulders as it had been, he inhaled (A false breath for a deadman) feeling the warmth of once stiff air fill his lungs before he spoke, a tone seemingly different than the short motes of conversation. A change that Krile caught with an academic’s attention;

“While I… personally, cannot relate to such a thing, I know someone who could.” Mannerisms long hidden attempted to surface, idle fingers running flat along knuckle, a sorrowful smile begging as the heart tightened in thought. “A young woman who, for her entire life, had been looked down on for her weaker stature, as well as the lacking weight of the ties of blood.”

In a world forgotten, those traits held as much importance as the kings who ruled them.

The wind drifted across the table to flitter pages across one another, and it was only with the patience prompting of his companion that he found the drive to continue.

“By all accounts, she could fell beasts far larger - and far more dangerous - than even those trained for a lifetime. Swift as a bow, with daggers sharper than any arrow.” That hollow lord didn’t realize his smile had escaped, nor the joy that painted his words as he spoke of this buried memory. “And, just as you, she was quick witted, kind, and very prone to playful conversation.”

The Lalafell leaned forward to rest atop interlaced fingers, cocking her head to the side with a bemused smirk. “And did you suffer that same judgment when you first met?”

Dark brows raised as pale features flushed, only for a moment before he nodded - not in shame, but in earnest openness. “Yes, I did, I thought her loud, brash, and somewhat invasive to my personal space. That she was immature, and the first few times we crossed paths I assumed she was out of her depth.”

“What changed?” The undertone of her words wasn’t lost on him. If she was similar to the woman he spoke of, did he feel the same towards her?

He answered. “I spent more time with her. Firstly only a few jobs here and there, but soon enough… my solitude turned into a group.” Those idle fingers moved to toy with the edge of that half-empty cup, similar to her own a few minutes ago. “I learned that beneath it all, behind that bravado, she was constantly comparing herself to what others thought she should be. That should she ever fail to measure up to the expectations - she’d failed her father, and all he sacrificed in taking her in. That no matter how much she did, she would never be enough.”

At this, any motion of brevity was swept with the cold, and Krile’s posture stiffened, hiding her frown behind those clasped fingers as she looked down to the table between them. Her voice was quiet as his had been once before, as if she feared the answer to be lost.

“How did she deal with it?”

“She bit back. Hard.” His reply earned those glassy blues to flick up to him, studying the faint smile on his lips as Silvaire tilted his head to better look at the young woman across from him. “She spoke up anytime those feelings threatened her, and stood up for herself whenever others dared to challenge her confidence. She learned that the only person who’d fault her, was herself.”

Silence once more fell between them. Thick as the books that towered around her, cold as the wind that drifted ink black hair over his pale features. Yet, it was not a harsh quiet. Serene and still, calm as if the mirrored edge of the lake that crested just out of view - a reality known, yet unseen.

“It sounds like I could learn something from her, I’d love to meet her someday…” The woman’s voice and smile faded slowly as her mirth met gentle realization as she watched his passive tells. “…Though, something tells me that wouldn’t be possible.”

“…No.” Short, but gentle. A sadness best left buried.

And Krile respected that, it didn’t take the power of an echo to tell the finer details of the pain that wrapped so cleanly across the Elezen’s person. Instead she asked for a kindness, to share the weight of this unspoken ghost. “What was her name?”

He smiled, a small thing that prompted just as quick a hand to wipe it away, dragged across the dark of his facial hair as the man cleared his throat to chain away the emotion that followed his reply. “Lion. Her name was Lion.”

Sunlight dance over the Lalafell’s features as her own expression beamed, bringing a welcome warmth to the coming dark. With a quick hand she motioned to the two cups that still sat between them and grabbed her own with a praising lilt.

“To Lion then-“ With a quick sip of that bitter tea Krile was once more reminded of the reason it stay untouched for so long. “Oh gods- I forgot-“

Whether the plight of sputtering was on purpose, Silvaire would never know, but nonetheless it did the job to steal a genuine laugh from him, sealing away any bridled fears that came from clawing memories - and with that same bravado, took his own half-filled cup and did the same.

“To Lion.”

Only once the young woman had recovered from her short ordeal (a mischievous grin on her lips as she studied him, as if victorious in some unspoken goal) did she stand from the table - night had now come to shower the balcony in starlight, and it was with a renewed sense of confidence that the Lalafell turned to look back to her companion.

“Well, that’s enough of a break for me. I’m going to go shoo that Chirurgeon out of my spot and get back to it. You’ll keep to your studies then?”

Silvaire motioned towards the sky. “Worry not, I’ll rest when I need.”

He could see how her echo caught his lie, yet she said nothing of it beyond that specific tilt she did every time she did. “You better. Else I’ll come back out here and drag you to the extra bed we have.”

The conversation ended not with a goodbye, but a nod, that little motion of acknowledgment as he turned that slitted gaze to the papers he didn’t want to read. The brash creak of that unoiled hinge gave way to earthly silence, and the hollow lord was once more alone.

He’d forgotten how cold it was outside.

#krile/wol #[its a 3k drabble so I put a readmore for mobile users!]#[I'm not apologizing I could do so much more I'm being tame here]#[pending krile tag]#[Also womp womp FF11 lore info here too cause I'm a goddamn sap and it's important]#Canon x OC writing #[Writing Tag]

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