#i love our lord commander of ishgard but he is TOO tall

[myreia]

Heavensward: Sohr Khai The sky is the domain of dragons How wilt thou contend with such mastery?

[hiromaniac]

Oneirophrenia

The doors suddenly burst open as a soldier in full armor with decorated with the blue regalia of his kingdom raced across the room and fell to a knee at his side. “My lord! The enemy has breached the walls! They are infiltrating the courtyard!”

He scowled and pounded his fist on the table. “Damn it all to hell!” His fist shook with rage. He hadn’t expected the enemies to make it this far so quickly. They weren’t on bad terms with the western kingdom, but he had his suspicions that they had provided reinforcements on the northern front allowing the northern kingdom to get here faster than expected. He slammed his fist into the table once more. “Have we received word from the southern citadel?”

“Yes, my lord.” The knight nodded, still on his knee. “Queen Mythorn and the civilians have sent word of their arrival.”

He sighed deeply, taking a moment to gather the strength for his next command. “I had promised her I would protect her father’s castle, but I’ll see it in the hands of those northern bastards over my dead body.” He stood up straight and ran a hand through his messy blond hair. “Burn it. Set fire to the grounds.” He picked up his lance from the table and turned for the door. “I’ll make them regret ever setting foot into this hell.” The knight hesitated briefly then rose and hurried out the door.

Hiro took a deep breath and took a step towards the door but paused before leaving the room. He slowly turned his head to an aquarium in the corner. He stared at it a moment or two then shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ránëwén, but it seems that Edward isn’t going to make it out of this.” He exited the room.

He watched as the ramparts were quickly overrun. The fires had started to spread at this point. With his lance in hand, he made a mighty leap from the gates and into the fray. He released himself to his fury, cutting down foe after foe. Minutes passed as he rampaged across the battlefield, cutting down every enemy in blue he saw. Three soldiers bore down on him at the same time, but he kept his weapon between them and held strong. A voice from behind him called out. “Hah! Save some for the rest of us, Hiro! You’re making me look bad!” He pushed back the enemy soldiers and turned to face his friend. There stood a man with his black hair in a ponytail bounding between enemies with tonfa in hand.

“Well stop using those sticks and use a real blade like me, and you might get to some of them.” Hiro grinned and heaved his greatsword onto his shoulder. As his compatriot dispatched the last of the immediate foes, they locked eyes and shared a nod. Sharing a brief high-five, they turned towards the castle. “You get the fires set already?”

“Tch. It was easy. Several volleys of fire arrows and the keep caught fire with no problem. Things keep going according to plan, we’ll have our castle back in no time.”

Hiro nodded in appreciation. “Well then, shall we storm the gates?”

“Battering rams are moving into place now.” He pointed at the rams being moved into position.

“Perfect. Let’s go.” Hiro began to advance with the battering rams, but something unusual caught his attention. In the middle of the battlefield sat an aquarium. He furled his brow and started to approach.

Suddenly the sound of the main gates being forced open drew his attention away. Across the grand hall approached a solitary young man. “Ahh. Florian. I was wondering when you’d make your way back here.”

The young man raised a sword and pointed it at Hiro. “Silence! You’ve betrayed my trust for the last time, fiend.” The young man was seething with rage. “After my parents died, you took me in and raised me as if I were your own. When my beloved fell ill, you told me where to go to find the remedy that would cure her. When I was too late to return, you sponsored my entrance into the knight’s academy to improve myself. And now that the academy and all my friends have fallen to a hoard of undead, I find you idly sitting by. Waiting for my return.” Hiro smirked as the young man could barely contain his rage. “It is clear to me now that you killed my parents, my beloved, and my friends and companions. You have destroyed every home I have ever had. I hope your intention was to raise me to kill you, for that is all that is left now.”

Hiro laughed and clapped his hands. “No, young Florian. That was not my intention at all. I was merely bored and figured toying with your life would entertain me for a decade or two. I must say it has so far.”

The young man cried out in rage as his blade shone with a holy light. Hiro rose from his jagged throne and beckoned with upturned hands to the empty hall as if indicating a crowd should stand. As commanded, skeleton soldiers rose from their resting places haphazardly strewn across the hall. With the young man’s strength of body, mind, and conviction, he could overcome this obstacle, but just barely. After all, he had overseen every step of his training.

He gently glided across the floor as the young man fought for his life. He reached the young man just as he had dispatched the last skeleton. Hiro whacked the young man across the head with the orbed staff in his hand. The young man fell and Hiro planted a foot on his neck with glee. He prodded a new wound with his staff, enjoying the young man’s suffering. Then something drew his attention away from the young man.

The aquarium at the edge of the hall. Releasing the young man from beneath his foot, he slowly approached it. It was quite large, easily ten fulms across and nearly seven fulms tall. Inside danced several striped fish. Fish he had caught himself. He watched their dance as the world around him slipped away.

A small hand perched on his shoulder. He blinked and suddenly found himself back in his basement. With a soft grin he turns to the miniature succubus who hovered over his should with a concerned look on her face. “Oh, did I space out again, Hallie?” He chuckled much to the distress of the succubus. “Sorry. I just haven’t been getting much sleep recently.” He suddenly smiles wider. “Hey, Zeph is coming back today from her week-long trip to Ishgard for Soileine. I was thinking of surprising her with miq’abobs. She loves miq’abobs.” He hums softly as he climbs the stairs to the kitchen leaving behind a very concerned miniature succubus.

[idanwyn-et-al]

Duets and Dastardly Deeds: A Harbor Herald Exclusive!

[The Palazzo Aldenard, Mist.]

Good day, lovely readers! It is daytime where you are, perhaps, yes? Or perhaps the stars have begun their slow scrawl across the darkened bowl of the heavens, the sun a memory to be gossiped about while Her Radiance is raising crops and crisping skins on the other side of our own star. Whatever light is creeping across your parquet floor, your larboard, your patch of forest, I hope to find you in good health and with a hankering to read about a most curious concert that took place at the Palazzo Aldenard’s Opera House a few days past.

This concert hall is well-known to many, but I confess, lovely readers, that it was this reporter’s first chance to visit the venerable venue for herself, and it did not disappoint. A crewmate of mine (ah yes, yours truly is a captain now, of her very own definitely-haunted ship; quite the tale of an unlikely inheritance, and utterly better-suited for another column entirely) and I took our seats, sharing uisghe and waiting for the show to begin. As this reporter is a long time fan of Savo’s (she is indirectly responsible for a prison sentence I served some years back, another story best shared over a plate of steak frites and a gallon of stout), I knew that her gnarled, underfed-despite-everyone’s-best-efforts paw brings a twist to every show, and inspires the audience to loosen up when confronted with the unexpected. Little did I know how much of a twist this show would wring itself into, like a wet rag squeezing water over still-smoldering embers! However, I am getting ahead of myself, lovelies. 

The evening began with a dueling duet; T’ahlia and D’ahlia! D’ahlia played classical piano with poise and elegance, fingers running over the keys nimbly. T’ahlia echoed and responded with her ceruleum guitar, sending reverbs into the rafters. Still, D’ahlia was dauntless, playing the act of straight man to the showy comedy of T’ahlia’s riffs. Both showcased skill and playfulness with ease, getting things off to a joyful start.

The duo was joined by Hani Dan’na, singing a song about lost relationships. Resigned, lovely lyrics left many an eye wet; surely, it was the profusion of springtime blossoms outside that caused such a thing. Surely, that.

Lionnellais Deveraux and Rythas Brynelle next took the stage, a pas de deux in lyrical form about looking at oneself in the looking glass and resolving to change. The two tall, lithe performers did, indeed, seem to be looking into a mirror as their eyes met and their melodic runs tumbled into harmonies. To this reporter, they seemed to encapsulate the desire to make today the first day of the rest of their lives---to use a quote oft-seen in cross-stitch on one’s grandmama’s wall---but were almost daring the other to be the first to change.

Aero, a new performer to this reporter and many others in the audience, was as forthright about being high on Shroud mushrooms as he was about body positivity; he performed entirely in the nude, and one was certainly larger than the other (pupils, I mean. Pupils!).  Savo provided riffs on her famed ten-stringed viol, and the pair brought levity to the stage. I do believe in a thing called love, even if it comes at the cost of Keepers of the Moon dragging you out into the woods and making you question all you’ve ever known. 

Zanin Briggs and Rythas continued in this vein with the next piece; it seems they, too, are reluctant-yet-indulgent caretakers of Savo and Fheyla. Family may make you question everything, dear readers, but if they lead you to great adventures, things like fleas, questionable manners, and spotty hygiene can be overlooked. 

A pair of mysterious Elezen women took the boards with a back-to-back set filled with as much fire as a bellyful of my late Papa’s famous uisghe. Injecting the room with a raw-hearted, toothy roar of lyrics meant to ignite the still-simmering resentment in Ishgard, these mysterious performers dressed to impress did just that! Yes, dear readers, although word out of those stony, snowcapped spires is that the Lord Commander has done his level best to close the gap between high and lowborn, it seems a thousand years of rigid social structures and war leave those still in the social depths wondering when their voices will really be heard. It was then when this reporter began to notice something of a theme throughout the night’s performances; unease, discontent, loss, building into...

FIRE! You read that right, faithful readers; a fire erupted backstage, and we were all summarily evacuated to the lawn for half a bell’s time. Take heart; the Palazzo’s staff were professional, efficient, and informative. I have now learned that if one must shout fire at a crowded theater, this is the theater in which to do so, lovelies. Once the blaze was contained, the show did indeed go on; and that, I believe, is my quota of cliched phrases for this article.

Once we had all filed back in---neatly and in single file, I assure you---Lionnellais and Rythas welcomed the audience back with a jaunty tune with the refrain “Under Censure”. This reporter must confess that the untimely fire combined with the lyrics that speak of restraints fraying under pressure had her wondering a great many things. Still, just as the show went on, so, too, must this article. 

T’ahlia returned to the stage with an acoustic guitar, and was joined by Hesper of Trinity. The pair sang a soulful duet about an “army of two” that would stand against all odds and defy the world. Your faithful reporter was very much lost in her own thoughts and suppositions, but was briefly brought back to attention by the songstress Sif, who joined T’ahlia for the next piece. This one spoke of T’ahlia’s conflicted feelings of yearning and betrayal directed at her mother, a woman of the Shroud who did her best for the young Miqo’te and yet left her wanting. The duo of Sif and T’ahlia singing call-and-response that melded into soulful, wistful harmonies drew the audience in and included us in such tender, bittersweet recollections.

As their last chords were still lingering like dark tea on the sides of the tongue, we were all drawn to our feet by an upbeat, glittering tune about calling on shinobi when in need! True to the legacy of those infamous assassins, the stage effects were superb; one might even believe that said shinobi were hiding in plain sight, deploying mudra and shadow-smoke to great effect amongst the waving glow wands of the enthused crowd. This reporter could not help but muse over how some of the other performers might, indeed, be inspired to hire a shinobi for their current troubles that simmered along the floorboards along with the occasional puff of singed scenery.

T’ahlia and Dane Escherra brought us all back to those melancholy undercurrents, with the latter offering soulful vocals recounting being a wartime prostitute. They fight like men, die like boys, and the women are expected to pretend it doesn’t affect them, offer themselves up as trophies. It was a simple yet poignant view into a world that many would rather pretend does not exist; this reporter, for one, was more interested in the stories of these women than the wars that raged around them.

Oh, dear readers, how I do eat up the ilms of column space on this one! The final two acts followed the evening’s emotional hills and vales, leaving us on a hill of humor. Zeraia Reynard crooned and Savo clawed tunes about male Seekers of the Sun, and...well, the lyrics are not entirely fit for print, but in the interest of public health (and allowing for poetic embellishment), this reporter must firmly suggest that all those who have enjoyed sexual relations with male Seekers of the Sun be tested for diseases at your local chirurgeon. E’rin Rae’s finale piece, in which she joined the dogpile (catpile) upon male Seekers, was a humorous lament about how they all seem to prefer the same sex, and how she has resigned herself to this fact. 

Though this sennight’s issue has been dedicated to my personal review of this revue, I must let you all in on a little secret; the fire that occurred backstage is quite suspicious, and this reporter will be writing another article or two as she investigates it. In the next sennight’s issue, please look forward to a collection of thoughts, statements, and observations by those that attended the show. In the meantime, I wish you all health and happiness, and would highly recommend the Palazzo Aldenard for its fine facility and superb entertainers.

Song and Scandal,

Idanwyn Lluanswys

Harbor Herald Food and Lifestyle Columnist

((tagging @palazzoaldenard​ , @savothesewercat​ , @rythasbrenelle​ , @fheylahaken​ , @whitherwanderer​ ! Please tag others, I am sleepy and forgetful. Thank you for the excellent show, and please stay tuned as Idanwyn does her best to investigate! I also enjoy going to concerts, restaurants, and other such fun social events to write articles, so message me here or on discord at #esper3592 if you’ve got something fun coming up!))

[dainty-baneberry]

Prompt #29: Paternal

(Ishgard, in the Far Future in an AU) Starlight in Ishgard was a spectacular thing to behold. The entire city was decorated with colourful lights that glittered off the fallen snow, making a magical scene that drew many to the city of Foundation. Once closed to outsiders the city was enjoying a renaissance since as the go-to Winter tourist location as younger men became the majority speakers in the political arena. Count Artoirel de Fortemps had thrown a soiree that had been the jewel of the social season in Ishgard that had boasted only the most notable attendees, including not only the Lord Commander de Borel and Lucia, Lord Francel Haillenarte and his family but also Alphinaud and Alisaie Leveilleur of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. Vidofnir had been invited, to several peoples amusement but the dragon had declined, to many peoples’ relief. The invite only formal affair at the Fortemps Manor had wound to a close only a few moments ago. The majority of the guests had been seen out. Leaving only Ser Aymeric, Ser Lucia, Lord Alphinaud, Lady Alisaie and Count Artoirel to retreat to the parlor for a after dinner drink. “I am wholly surprised at your brothers absence.” Aymeric commented as the butlers brought in cut crystal glasses of sweet cordials for everyone. Such a lavish, social event would normally be just the place the younger Fortemps brother could be found, digging for gossip and trying to talk Artoirel into funding luxurious upgrades that Camp Dragonhead absolutely did not need. Not to mention enjoying far more of his older brothers very fine liquor than he ought. “I’m not.” Artoirel replied succinctly, wetting his lips with the strong apertif and gesturing for one of the servants to put another log on the fire when Alisaie gave a little shiver. Now grown into a willowy, white Haired elezen beauty, Alisaie had been enjoying Artoirels uncommon attentions that evening, yet had been paying particular attention to the handsome and perpetually single Aymeric. Much to Lucia and Alphinaud’s chargin. Emmanellain presence was notable only by his absence. “For someone who claims to “know everyone” I wholly expected that he would attend. If solely to engage in fishing for gossip.” Alphinaud commented. Barely a boy of 16 when the Dragonsong War ended the Elezen man now stood taller than Aymeric, although not quite as tall as Artoirel. “Fully he is not willing to face his comeuppance. We have a wager that he could not bring to my party someone whom I should know but could not name.” Artoirel explained. “How much does he owe you this time?” Aymeric asked, laughter in his voice, well familiar with the brothers’ ongoing wagers. “Nothing!”  Emmanellain’s voice was heard from the corridor beyond the door. “I owe you nothing! No don’t announce us, you bloody twit, you’ll ruin the surprise!!” Emmanellain burst into the room, smirking broadly and half dragging a tall male child with silver white hair and small, delicate cranial projections behind him. “Forgive my lateness, my guest took a wrong turn getting to Camp Dragonhead.” Emmanellain, his freckles standing out against his cheeks with his excited flush presented the boy to the room with a satisfied smirk. “I would have brought him to dinner but his carriage has only just arrived, I do hope I will not be punished for something I could neither anticipate nor control, Brother.” This pronouncement went unheeded as, mouths agape, the assembled present company stared at this newcomer. Fearless the boy swept some bangs from his blue eyes, revealing candle light orange limbal rings and looked at the assembled crowd boldly. He was obviously a hybrid, the pale scales and cranial projections betrayed that he had a Raen Au’Ra parent but his build, and rounded ears spoke of some kind of Hyur progenitor.

“How do you do?” he asked cultured, polite tones and executed a perfect Fortemps bow.

“Should...someone....call Thancred?” Alisaie questioned in utter shock. The Rogue turned Gunbreaker was the only white haired hyur they knew who had had even a passing friendship with the childs' mother. It could only be one person. They knew so few Au’Ra, and only one with such a peculiar shade of orange on her limbal rings but she had been missing these 11 years past. There had not even been rumor of her sighting and Tataru, who could find information on anyone with enough time, had certainly looked.

They had truly believed her dead, and mourned her as such. Yet, here stood proof that, even if she were dead now, she had lived long enough to beget a child. “Speechless, dear brother? I fully believe you should know our newest wards name! And before you accuse me of over-stepping my position to elect a Ward of Fortemps you can be rest assured he is entitled to it via his Mother's Knighthood.” Emmanellain crowed. “So there.” “Never mind the bet Emmanellain, who is this!?” Artoirel demanded, rising to his feet and fully staring as the others were at what could only be Dainty's son. The boy appeared to be near the age of 10, which would perfectly explain why that long absent Warrior suddenly disappeared without a trace. The boy gave a glance at Emmanellian, who gave him a reassuring nod. “Go ahead, my boy.” The boy cleared his through, standing up very upright and his orange limbal rings fairly glowed, just like Dainty's had once done. “Haurchefant Garlond, at your service. Please call me Hauru.” Hauru Garlond grinned. He liked “Uncle Emmanellain”, much to his Mothers’ annoyance. Although he had particularly enjoyed seeing his Mother slap Emmanellain for calling her “old girl.” “Garlond?!” Alisaie shot to her feet a midst more than one gasp. The silver white hair suddenly made sense and no sense at all. “Impossible!”

“Is this a sick joke, Emmanellain? Cid Garlond is dead.” Alphinaud hissed through his teeth. His tone sounded unstable, and borderline violent. His hand clenched around his glass and had it been of less than superior quality it would have shattered in his grip. Alphinaud had witnessed Cid Garlond die with his own eyes. It was a memory he would never forget, although he may have long wished it. A retaliatory attack by Loyalists of the Empire. The Garlond Ironworks hadn't stood a chance against a rogue Imperial Warship. They had been utterly erased to a man. As sickened by the idea as he was, Alphinaud would not put Emmanellian above happening upon a convenient hybrid child and passing it off as something he was not solely to win the bet. Without a lick of thought for the consequences, so long as he got to show up his older brother. Hauru hesitated, unsure if he ought reassure these strangers of their mistaken beliefs, Uncle Emmanellian had told him only to give his name, and a bow but they seemed so distraught and Hauru had not been anticipating that, thinking it all a very good joke. Fortunately for the boy the lone Hyur in the room stood, moving closer to him for a better look. Her silver armor had been exchanged for a pretty woolen gown in deference to the occasion but her usual silver circlet remained, restraining her bright blonde hair. "Tis my understanding that a body for the late Cid Garlond was never found." Lucia pointed out. It hadn't seemed relevant at the time. The attack, and the level damage so absolute. Several buildings had been completely vaporized, it wasn't hard to believe that a corpse would be too. Lucia drew closer to the boy, noting the shade of his eyes despite the limbal rings. Garlean blue, unarguably “Look again, past the scales. I knew Cid Garlond only fleetingly yet I tell you this as clear as I stand here, this child has his features.” Lucia's words were poignantly true. They had been so focused on Hauru's resemblance to Dainty that they had not considered his resemblance to Cid.

Hauru truly did look as if someone had put Au'Ra scales and limbal rings on a younger version of Cid Garlond. “Master Cid Garlond!” The butler announced smartly, opening the door, unaware that his timing was utterly perfect. The gait was different from the one they all remembered. He walked with a strong suggestion of a limp and the cane he carried did not appear to be solely decorative. The hair was longer, as was his beard, and he was attired in what appeared to be Doman fashions, albeit with a heavy Alpine coat over the top. But the tall, muscular Garlean's smile was unchanged of the passage of years. Merriment dancing in the familiar blue eyes as he entered the room to an audience of shocked faces. “Well, trouble maker?” Cid grinned, addressing Emmanellain as if he were still am untidy youth of 20. “Have you finished making mischief with my son?" "Oh yes! And it was wonderful." Emmanellain chortled gleefully at the stunned faces that swung back and forth between Cid, Hauru and Emanellian before ending back on Cid again. "Cid....." Alisaie managed to gather her wits first. "How? …. How?! …. And why did you not return to us?!" She ran to his side and wrapped her arms around him to hug him fiercely, propriety be damned. “Please forgive us, old friends. The "how" is an awful long story but the why is very simple. Being “dead” was the best protection for Hauru against the Empire that anyone could name.” Cid explained, hugging Alisaie unreservedly. He thought it best that they explain and apologize for their absence from the very start. Cid was confident once everyone understood the motivations for their disappearance they would not fault them for it. He seemed to be correct as a nod of understanding was passed between the Leveilleur Twins. "And what of ... Hauru's Mother?" It was Aymeric who dared to ask what the room was thinking. He couldn't quite bring himself to say her name. He had loved her so once, a lifetime ago. "It was Dainty, wasn't it?" Alphinaud questioned, his tone more of a demand than he intended. It could only have been Dainty. Hauru's colouring and name made that inarguable but that didn't mean the Au Ra was alive. "Is Dainty." Cid corrected the Elezen reassuringly, before nodding to Aymeric. "She stopped in to pay her respects at Providence Point alone. You know she never was one for emotional scenes."

[chrysalispen]

Prompt #16 - Jitter

cute/sweet fluff maybe this weekend when i have time <3

in the meantime, the prompts continue!

Aurelia returned from her drawing lesson in the garden to find the parlor and most of the staff within in a state of panicked disarray. L'haiya was shouting orders at the hapless maids, dust cloths were flying everywhere, and she could hear Cook banging in the kitchen. Blinking, she removed her hat and swiped a forearm across her sweaty brow as she passed from the sun porch into the parlor.

“…What in the seven hells?” the Garlean girl said aloud, forgetting that her governess was in earshot. 

But the Miqo'te didn’t react. She was too busy directing a pair of burly men to adjust the position of the piano.

“Over there, you lot! Put your backs into it.” One of L'haiya’s hands were braced on her hips, the other impatiently shoving her bright auburn hair out of her face as her tail twitched in agitation. It was the look she so often wore when lecturing Aurelia about some shortcoming or other. “Mind the Nagxian vase in the corner! That’s Fifth Astral, his lordship will have all our heads if it’s broken.”

“Elle, what’s going on? What’s all the commotion?”

The smaller woman seemed to see her charge for the first time. Aurelia was becoming quite tall, standing nearly a head over her caretaker already– although her height hardly made her intimidating. She was but fourteen summers, baby fat still lingering in her face and her curves still more a suggestion than a reality. Her sudden growth spurt over the last few moons had rendered the young Garlean lanky and awkward, and she had been the terror of the drawing room for months.

“Aurelia! Thank the Twelve.” L'haiya grasped her wrists. “You need to go upstairs and change. Your nicest afternoon dress. Quickly!”

“You’d think the Emperor himself were coming to visit us with all this drama,” she began with a smile, one that slowly faded when she saw the grim press of the woman's lips. “Wait. What?”

“You jest, girl, but the viceroy will be dining with us this evening. We received a missive while you were in your studies.”

Aurelia nearly choked. 

“Wh-why? He has a whole palace to-”

“Does it matter? Legatus van Baelsar has requested informal audience with your lord father and no one tells the Black Wolf his timing is poor.” L'haiya lifted one of her curls and studied it critically. “We’ll make you as presentable as we can under the circumstances. Go. Draw a bath and wash the sweat off you.”

=

She stared at her half-finished plate with growing consternation, fighting not to nibble on the ends of her hair in agitation.

The man at the end of the table was hardly the dashing figure she imagined most army officers to cut, but there was something imposing about him all the same. He complimented L'haiya on the meal (though that had surely been Cook’s doing) and spent most of his time engrossed in discussion with her father about mundane matters without the city walls, so at least his attention wasn't on her personally.

Well, Elle had said this was supposed to be a meeting with her father.

“Aurelia,” L'haiya whispered from behind her, “it’s rude to pick at your food in front of guests and Cook will be upset if you don’t eat.”

"Sorry," she mumbled. Everything smelled lovely but she was too jittery to taste much of it. Knowing that both Elle and her father would be cross with her if she didn't at least try, the girl reached slowly for her tableware.

“Have you thoughts on the matter to offer, Mistress Laskaris?”

Aurelia was thankful she had not picked up the fork because she knew she would have immediately dropped it from startlement. 

She looked up to find the full attention of piercing, hooded pale hazel-gold eyes – like a wolf’s – fixed on her face. The legatus’ expression was one of mild and polite interest at best, but she sensed both a keen intellect and a hardness under that surface, someone who was even more accustomed to command than Father and who was much, much better at reading people.

Especially children like herself.

With effort, she smiled and shook her head.

“I, ah–I’m afraid that adminis–administrative matters are not– I am not familiar with such, my lord.”

One of those heavy brows lifted, and she tensed, wondering if she had given offense.

“They do not interest you?”

“In all honesty, my lord, no. I am-” She hesitated. “I am studying botany. The- the flora of the Empire and its provinces.”

“I see. And do you much field work, young mistress?”

“Where I can,” she confessed. “I’ve a journal I keep for my drawings of all the plants I’ve encountered for myself, and all their effects.” She also had several pages of notes she’d taken from some of the older women in the aan quarters, old folk remedies using those same plants. She did not mention this, however, because Sazha was her willing accomplice, and L’haiya didn’t know she sometimes slipped out of the administrative district unattended. 

“A hobby, my lord,” her father said, his smile tight. She plunged on, ignoring what was clearly a warning look not to waste Legatus van Baelsar’s time.

“I’m… I wish to be a chirurgeon,” she explained, “and I am told the entrance examinations for most schools are very stringent. I find the study soothing but also very enlightening, and I assume it can only help to have knowledge of such matters for focused study.”

That unreadable look relaxed into a smile.

“Ah,” he said. “A well-spoken young lady. You’ve a budding medicus in your midst, Julian.”

“So it would appear, my lord,” her father answered, though Aurelia knew full well they had barely discussed aught of her personal interests. Medicine and botany did not interest her father any more than the training exercises of the cohorts interested her.  

“Once you enlist for your service, young mistress, perhaps I will become a more familiar face.”

With a polite smile, she inclined her chin respectfully as she’d been taught to do, and with naught more to say those keen eyes shifted focus back to her father. 

Aurelia had to bite back the sigh of relief when they did. Whatever test she suspected that was, she knew she’d passed it.

~*~

The Vault was freezing cold and she was alone, and despite being the so-called Warrior of Light, Aurelia wished that Alphinaud were here.

She was not unaccustomed to private audiences, and even if she had been there had been so many in the last year that most of the shyness had been flensed from her. The leaders of the Eorzean Alliance were just people, and some of them she even counted as friends.

Had counted as friends. Assuming she wasn’t on a fugitive’s list elsewhere, as well. But she hadn’t been so desperately nervous to meet a political figure since she was fourteen years old and had met the viceroy for the first time. A man whom, fifteen years later, had faced her in a duel and lost.

“Come on, come on,” the Garlean said softly. This was no time to be thinking about that.

It really wasn’t, because she didn’t know why she’d been summoned by the leader of Ishgard’s Church. That was the real difference. Every other time she’d responded to an official request for her time, she’d known well beforehand the reason. By the reactions of Haurchefant’s half-brothers a personal summons was supposedly a great honor, but she had misgivings aplenty.

Aurelia wasn’t as certain as they that the man would be well pleased.

Those were two of his personal honor guard she’d defeated in Tataru and Alphinaud’s trials, after all. She had no idea if trouncing those two awful men would be the final straw to get them all tossed out the front of the city gates in disgrace, or what the Archbishop wanted at all.

The door opened, and an elezen in the garb of a Temple Knight bowed deeply; the mythrite chain of his coif gave a little chime as the small metal links struck each other.

“His Holiness will see you now, Warrior of Light. Come.”

She nodded, and out of half-remembered habit more than anything else, smoothed nonexistent wrinkles from the front of her robes and followed. Eyes lingered upon her as she did, glances that were a mixture of curious and appreciative, as she passed into the deepest recesses of the Vault.

[elfyourmother]

can I call it WIP Sunday?

[anyway I can’t just find 6 sentences so since I’m on the ishgardian catpile, have a big snip! this is from my wip during early Stormblood MSQ, when Gisele and Haurchefant made a pit stop in Ishgard before sailing with the others to the Far East. They’re gonna tell Aymeric what went down at Rhalgr’s Reach and the Alliance plan to liberate Doma.]

Ser Aymeric de Borel was fair beaming when he descended the stairs to the foyer mere moments later, an absolute vision in his customary fur-trimmed tunic of royal blue with its intricate golden embroidery work and ivory lace accents. And as always, he wore tall boots of pristine white leather which sheathed near the whole of his black breeches, reaching the middle of his thighs. Once more, Gisele found herself utterly grateful that such boots were the classic fashion for Ishgardian men, with their impossibly long legs. She tried her best not to gape like a country maid, but Aymeric always made it so difficult, the way he polished his breathtaking beauty to an elegant shine.

For but a perishingly brief moment, his mythrite blue eyes grew wide and bright when they met Gisele and Haurchefant; ever mindful, however, Aymeric caught himself and recovered smoothly, swallowing hard, and lowered an appropriately gracious and expectant gaze upon his head steward.

“My lord, I present Lord Haurchefant Greystone de Fortemps, and Mistress Gisele Surana nó Fortemps,” Jordaineux said with a fluid bow.

“Thank you, my good man. And I bid you both welcome, my dearest friends. I truly am delighted to see you once more,” Aymeric said warmly. “Jordaineux, please leave us. I shall attend to our guests myself this night.”

“Certainly, my lord,” Jordaineux replied, bowing once more before quietly slipping away.

Aymeric rather prudently waited with a sober, gracious smile until the old steward took his leave, then strode with bold purpose to Gisele, pulling her into a fierce embrace before tilting back her head with a ring covered hand and leaning down to hungrily press his achingly soft lips against hers, sliding his tongue between her teeth. It was weeks of pent up passion in that kiss, and it seemed to Gisele that every time they parted, he bore an ever more raging torrent of it ‘ere they reunited, making it all the more sweeter when they did. Even his scent drove her mad, the familiar benzoin and ambergris of the pomander he wore, earthy and sweet; she could have wept at the scent of it, so strong in her memory even without the Echo’s power. Instead, she clung to his tunic of finely spun velveteen, drowning in that passion and returning it with all the ardency she held, until at last she came up for air.

“Good evening to you too, Lord Commander,” Gisele said a breathlessly, with an impish little giggle.

“By the Fury, I’ve missed you,” Aymeric sighed, his strong and trembling hands sliding down her bare back.

Gisele half thought he would take her right there in the sitting room, and was more than mildly disappointed when he did not, rather gently untangling himself from her embrace—but she consoled herself with the sight of Aymeric stalking over to Haurchefant as if this were the field, and he meant to draw steel.

But Haurchefant, the storied Silver Fuller of House Fortemps, never backed down from a challenge; rather, he backed Aymeric against the nearest wall. The ravenous Lord de Fortemps was no less amorous than their pining lover, and virtually plunged his tongue down Aymeric’s eager throat, his fingers raking through Aymeric’s nest of loose and glistening black curls.

Hydaelyn’s blessing was naught compared to this one, Gisele thought to herself for not the first time, biting her lip as she watched them loose a torrent of passion upon one another.

“Seven hells, Haurche,” Aymeric said with a bit of a breathless laugh. “You never do anything by halves, do you?”

“Least of all you, my love,” Haurchefant said with an impish smirk and a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. Gisele was not the only one driven mad by it either, given the flush of crimson rushing into Aymeric’s pale cheeks. “Tell me, shall it be the wall, or the floor this night? Mayhap over the table? Or shall we make another delightful contest of pleasuring our dear lady?”

“Why not all four?” Gisele asked rather sweetly.

Aymeric’s laugh turned lower and wicked at that. “Patience, my amorous beloveds. I believe we’ve business to attend to first, and I thought we might do so over dinner,” he said.

[kivaember]

Prompt #21: Repast

“You’re scrawnier than I thought.”

“Elezen are naturally lean,” Aymeric replied amicably, trying not to be put off by the intense, near-predatory stare boring into him, “We do not pile on muscle easily like you Xaela.”

“Hmm,” said his companion.

His companion being, specifically, Aza’s mother. She was tall for a Xaela woman, built like a destrier Chocobo with a brusque temperament to match, and possessing long, grey-streaked hair scraped back into a loose ponytail. She looked young for her supposed sixty years, even with the harsh lines pulling at the corners of her mouth and crinkling the corners of her eyes, and her body still looked strong and sturdy beneath her sturdy hunting tunics.

Strong enough to snap him over her knee like a twig, if Aza’s whispered warnings before they stepped into the yurt were anything to go by. He wasn’t keen to test if that had been an exaggeration or not – not only out of fear of discovering that prodigious strength was true, but because getting into a physical fight with his partner’s mother probably wasn’t the correct way to go about this.

“Aym’s pretty built beneath that armour,” Aza piped up at his side, “He’s Lord Commander of Ishgard’s military force, so he has to be strong for it.”

Aza’s mother, Atani, hummed again, her gaze taking on a shrewd edge to it, “Lord Commander…” she repeated, her voice thick with the accent of the Steppe. She knew Eorzean Common surprisingly well, despite Aza confessing it wasn’t her second or even third language, “Is that like a khagan?”

Aymeric glanced at Aza questioningly.

“Uh, yeah. Kinda,” Aza scratched his cheek in a clearly nervous gesture, “He’s the strongest warrior, leads the Ishgardian warriors into battle. Smart too, and, umm...”

Truthfully, Aymeric would place Estinien and several others above himself in terms of martial strength and intelligence, but he said nothing as Atani, once more, hummed and let the matter drop entirely – just in time for their last companion, Aza’s father, Aruci, to sweep next to their table and set down a large, steaming pot in the middle: the family hotpot Aza promised him when inviting him to the meal.  

“Atani, stop intimidating the poor boy,” Aruci chided gently, easing himself down on the floor with creaking knees, “He’s here as our guest.”

“If he finds this intimidating, then he’s too soft, isn’t he?” Atani said idly, then shot Aymeric’s way almost lazily, “Are you intimidated?”

“Not particularly,” Aymeric said truthfully. Compared to Nidhogg, or even Hraesvelgr, Atani’s intimidation was tolerable and like water off a mudpuppy’s back. There was only so much your glares could do when lacking the terrifying jaws of a furious, hungry dragon to go with it, “Mildly threatened, perhaps, but not intimidated.”

“Hah!” Atani leaned back, slapping a hand on her thigh, “Oh, I like this one,” she said to Aza, pointing rudely at Aymeric, “He’s bold.”

“Don’t I know it,” Aza grumbled, but he was looking pleased and incredibly relieved. No doubt he was happy this whole meeting was going so well – and that no one had been stabbed yet, an alarming possibility that was allegedly common with Xaela tribes in these situations according to Aza. It was why his partner had been so insistent he wore light armour for the meal, even if the noble upbringing in Aymeric squirmed at the perceived insult of it.

“You know, Aza speaks very warmly of you,” Aruci said in a surprisingly gentle, placid tone as he began spooning out the hotpot into everyone’s respective bowls. His hands were rough, calloused and gnarled, but still steady and strong. Aza mentioned he was a renowned crafter, and it showed, “Every time he comes home, he’s always eager to share affectionate tales about you.”

“And Bluebird the risqué ones,” Atani added teasingly, her mouth curving into a very Bluebird-esque smile when Aza turned an adorable shade of red, “Oh, come now, my little Coeurl, don’t be shy! It’s good to have a partner that satisfies you both emotionally and-”

“Okay!” Aza said a little too loudly, waving his hands frantically, “Can we please not talk about my sex life at the dinner table?”  

“I guess it is a poor subject to start off with,” Atani admitted grudgingly, her focus sliding back to Aym with her smile shifting back into too-predatory, “Instead, why not tell us how you two came together? Aza has been so secretive about it…”

At that, Aymeric and Aza shared a brief look. Their ‘coming together’ had been due to copious amounts of alcohol, Aza puking on his boots after publicly confessing his love on top of a table at a dinner party, followed by a very awkward conversation during the unpleasant throes of being hungover. There had been nothing romantic about it – it had been raw, emotionally exhausting, yet… good, in an odd way.

Of course, Aza avoided him for three weeks afterwards before Aymeric could pin him down and get a straight answer out of him regarding what they were but, well, that hungover, emotional talk had been the real start to their… relationship. Sort of.  

There was no pretty or gentle way to explain this, though. It had been a mess from start to finish.

“Um, well…” Aza cleared his throat, his left ear flicking nervously, “Bluebird didn’t tell you?”

“Your sister has a big mouth on many things,” Atani said bluntly, “But even she can be discreet about others. She hasn’t told us.”

“Oh,” Aza looked as surprised as Aymeric felt, “Well, uhhh, so… we got together after a… party…”

Aymeric had to hide a helpless smile behind his hand. Aza was such a terrible liar, and his partner stuttered and awkwardly talked around the unsavoury parts of the story under his mother’s far too knowing gaze.

“…and then we decided to give it a shot,” Aza finished his highly abridged and redacted tale, “And here we are, two years later.”

“Two years later,” Atani echoed, sharing a look with her husband, “Well, you really do seem happy.”

“I am,” Aza said firmly, sitting up straighter and looking his mother straight in the eyes, “I’m very happy with Aym. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Well. Well. Aymeric was suddenly very glad he had a bowl of hotpot to distract himself with at that bold declaration. His heart felt like it was doing something very squishy and potentially medically fatal, unable to stop the no doubt stupid, lovesick smile curling his mouth. There was something so good to hear that, if only because Aza had been so sad and lonely at the beginning, almost lost and hesitant to get attached and love. To hear him boldly declare his happiness now was…

“I can see that…” Atani murmured very softly, and something complicated flickered across her expression.

Aruci settled a hand over Atani’s, giving it a squeeze, “We’re happy for you, Aza. You’ve come a long way since we first took you in. We’re both proud of you.”

Atani gave herself a bit of a shake, motherly warmth filling her expression and chasing away the shadows that had lurked there, “So very proud. I always knew you had the better taste in men than your sister-”

“Mom,” Aza protested, his face was bright red at this point and his eyes suspiciously teary.

“-I mean, he’s leagues better than that Felyx,” Atani finished with a roll of her eyes, “Do you know Felyx, Aymeric?”

Aymeric knew Felyx very well. Bluebird had delighted in telling him that Aza’s fellow adventurer used to be a ‘fuck buddy’ when his relationship with his partner had been new and tentative. Looking back, he suspected Bluebird had been testing him, gauging his jealousy – Aymeric didn’t care. Aza wasn’t the disloyal sort, and whatever was between him and Felyx was no longer sexual. He had simply filed that fact away as an interesting piece of trivia and never thought about it in depth again.  

“We’ve met,” he said simply, “He gets around, from what I hear.”

“He’s not that bad,” Aza grumbled, “Just because he’s open about being poly-”

“Your sister wanted to marry him,” Atani said flatly, and Aza choked on the rest of his words.

“W-W-W-Wh-” Aza coughed and drew in a deep breath… if only to shriek; “What!?”

“Huh,” Aymeric said, trying to see it and failing. Bluebird, wanting to marry someone? It boggled the mind.

“Hah! I see Bluebird didn’t tell you that story!” Atani chortled, slapping her thigh, “Aruci, love, tell Aza about that disaster.”

“Oh, come now, let’s not embarrass her. She’s not even here to defend herself-”

“You have to tell me!” Aza breathed, looking torn between morbid fascination and utter delight, “Please, Dad!”

Aruci sighed, and groaned when Atani playfully ribbed him, but he gave in with a, “Well, three years back…”

“Three years!? That recent!?”

“Let him finish,” Atani scolded.

Aymeric leaned back slightly, relieved that focus had shifted from him to this humiliating tale of Bluebird’s ill-advised marriage proposal. The hotpot was good, he found, his gaze drawn to Aza as his partner drank in the embarrassing story about his sister, admiring how openly happy and relaxed and carefree he was. He looked younger, happier, basking in the presence of his family, adopted or not…

He felt an odd twinge, then – not quite longing but… a realisation that he was missing something he never truly had. Lord Borel had been a good guardian, but he had never been a father. Kind and affectionate, yes, but his love was not unconditional, and there was always an edge of political posturing when it came to Aymeric. He had long made peace with the fact that he had been a chess piece on the board that was Ishgardian politics, and that he never really knew what a proper family was.

But this… hmm. It probably felt a little like this.

Yes, a little.

Content with that, Aymeric settled in, finding contentment in being accepted into the small circle that was Aza’s family, if only for today.

[write-on-my-wayward-author]

We interrupt the usual light hearted writings to bring feels.

A quick note before you read. Blue roses symbolize the unattainable and impossible. If you wish to see a cat broken hearted, then feel free to read below. 

                                                      Frozen Heart

Ah, Ishgard. The place of eternal ice and snow still held a warm place in Taashiel’s heart. Even though being a seeker of the sun he absolutely hated the cold. Still, the time he thought of the city and its towering stone buildings and large central church, it always brought a smile to his face. Probably because a certain Lord Commander entered his mind each time. Ser Aymeric was the living definition of tall, dark, and handsome, and poor Taashiel was smitten with the man. Ever since they had dinner at De Borel Manor and Aymeric asked him what Taashiel wanted, not as the warrior of light but for himself.

This one small question was enough to shake the entire foundation of the man. For years the Miqo’te had been traveling the world slaying beast and eikons. Rebuilding nations and soon after that, he would liberate nations. HE hardly had time to think of what he wanted for himself. In fact, he felt like he was merely Eorzea’s greatest living weapon. Nothing could come up against him and live to tell the tale. He felt that his sole purpose was to merely fight and keep the world safe. Even though this was his job, it wasn’t what he wanted to do for the rest of his life. He was tired of traveling and fighting. He was tired of losing friends and loved ones. He just wanted to rest with someone he loves by his side. To live in peace and not have to worry about the next god that comes to destroy something.

Aymeric was the only one in Taashiel’s time as the warrior of light to get to know him as a person. Him as a man and not a weapon. It sent the poor cat’s heart wild each time he thought of those blue eyes. Serious and cold when they first met, but warm and inviting the last time he saw him in Ala Mhigo. From Ishgard to Ala Mhigo, Taashiel felt as though the man returned his feelings of sentiment, but because of his position of power, he would not act on them. Even Thanced admitted that when Taashiel agreed to fight for Ishgard in the battle royale that his eyes lit up, like love. Those few words would send the man on an endless quest to gain the other man’s affection. From their first encounter to their last run in with each other, which had been a few months ago and Taashiel felt it was time to pay the Elezen a visit.

He walked down the cobblestone streets of Ishagrd, doing his best to keep warm as the whipping wind seemed to cut through his coat. Could Ishgard get any colder? The twelve help him if it did. He started to learn these streets by heart. Maybe one day he could walk them blind folded. He definitely knew the way to the Congregation of Our Knights Most Heavenly rather well. He made that trip from the Steps of Faith, past the Forgotten Knight tavern and to the Congregation hall almost every time he walked into the city. It was second nature to him anymore.

On his way there, he noticed a vendor selling flowers. Flowers? In this bone chilling weather? They had to be exported from the Botanist guild in Girdania. There were flowers of all kind. Camellias, carnations, chrysanthemums, daffodils, daisies, forget-me-nots, and so much more that Taashiel didn’t recognize. He was content to walk past it until a bright blue caught his eye. A rose. A single blue rose, like the blue of Aymeric’s eyes. His heart fluttered at the sight and didn’t hesitate a second thought before pulling his gil from his coin purse and purchasing the rose. It was rather expensive and because of its rarity is why it cost him almost 1,000 gil pieces. But he didn’t care. It was beautiful, soft and fragile. It petals felt like velvet between his finger tips and a smile danced across his lips. This would be perfect, the perfect way for Taashiel to finally admit his love to Ayermic.

With this new hope and spark in mind, the man raced to the Congregation hall with his tail whipping behind him along with his coat tails. Many different scenarios raced through his head faster than his legs could run. One scene played out of Aymeric admitting that he too held affections toward the other man and accepted his feelings in return. They would hug and then sit beside each other as Aymeric did his work. Another one was Aymeric laughing and wishing Taashiel had come sooner because he couldn’t bear the thought of being without him. They would kiss and then ignore Aymeric’s paper work for the rest of the night. And much more that either ended with kissing or going beyond kissing. But right as he arrived at the wooden door, a sense of dread overcame him.

What if he was wrong? What if Aymeric didn’t return the feelings the way he did? His heart quickened in anticipation and worry. His pleasant scenes now replaced with him being hurt and walking out as he if was okay even though he was broken. He paced outside the wooden door, fighting with himself and his emotions, the greatest battle yet. Should he go in and tell him? Even though that meant he could leave in heart break? But that wasn’t solely the case, mayhap the man did return his feelings. After all, Aymeric did seem rather fond of him. But what if that was just him being a political figure? Using Taashiel and his emotions to keep Ishgard safe! No. Aymeric wouldn’t do that. He wasn’t like his father.

His fingers fidgeted with the rose and his ring finger accidentally poked one of the left over thorns. The sharp pain jolted him from his thoughts and he looked down at the red bead forming at the small incision. He took a deep breath through his nose and turned to face the doors. With a shaking hand, he pushed them open and made his way to Aymeric’s private office. Standing at the door, his palms began to sweat and his lips were dry. This was it. Now or never. Time to admit to feelings that he had hidden for years. Time to take the first step to happiness, and make Ishgard a warmer place in his heart.

He painted a confident smile on his face and pushed open the door. In a single instant, his world was shattered. The confident smile and bright eyes faded as he stared at the scene set before him. Aymeric was there in his chair, but next to him was the Azure Dragoon. Not too uncommon to find these two together. This wasn’t what hurt the Miqo’te. No. What caused his heart to break was seeing the two men kissing. In that moment as he opened the door, the world froze. All he could see was the lips of the man he loved, placed on another’s. Maybe Estinien kissed him first and Aymeric didn’t want it? No. Because Aymeric’s hand was resting on Estinien’s hip, fingers kneading gently into the cloth. They were both intimate with the other. Bodies pressed against the others with hands and arms entangled around their forms. They weren’t just kissing. They were making out, as if they had done this act countless times before.

Time resumed when the kissing stopped and the two men noticed the other standing in the door way with a bewildered face and a rose trembling in his hand. His breathing was slow and his heart beat felt non-existent. He could only stare in silence. His pain was amplified when Aymeric smiled to him.

“Taashiel, my friend,” a single invisible arrow pierced the Miqo’te’s heart. How was Aymeric so coy about this? Did he not know Taashiel’s feelings at all? Was he completely blind to how broken the blonde was? “What calls for such a visit?”

The man was speechless. He finally took a breath, unknowing that he had been holding one in his lungs. It was sharp and quick like he was trying to gasp for air to stay alive. He licked his lips and looked away from those blue eyes he loved so dear. Those eyes that warmed his dreams would now haunt his nightmares.

“I seem to have interrupted something,” he finally spoke with a shakiness in his voice. He was holding back tears and they were choking his words. He cleared his throat trying to compose himself. “I’ll just see myself out.”

Before either Elezen could react, Taashiel closed the door and ran. He ran as far as he could and as fast as he could. Eyes closed and trying to force back the tears, but the cold air pricked them like the thorns of the rose pricked his hand. Everything on him was hurting. His legs, his hands, his body and now his heart. He tripped over a wooden beam in the Brume and slide to a halt against the stone ground. A sneer left his lips as he rose into a sitting position. He looked at his knee and saw the torn fabric of his pants and the bleeding torn skin. He looked around to judge his surroundings. It felt like he was running for ages, but he was only underneath the Forgotten Knight. No one was around. Unusual but it was welcomed. He wanted to be alone. He hoisted himself up from the ground, grabbing the rose as he did. He hobbled a while longer until he found an alcove and went to sit in the darkness.

Of all the outcomes that could have happened, why this one? Why Estinien? He knew Aymeric cared for the other man, but he didn’t know it went this deep and far. He pulled his knees to his chest and stared at the blue rose still in his hands. The icy blue petals seemed to add to the cold he was feeling. Inside and out. He stared at the flower for a long time in silence. Even his thoughts were silent. He sat unmoving until his crushed the flower in his hand. Pulling the petals apart and tearing them from the stem as he rubbed his fingers to his palm. The petals gathered at his feet and when they were all gone, he dropped the stem into the snow.

He wrapped his arms around his knees and placed his forehead against his forearm. It had been years since Taashiel felt like a man rather than a weapon. The last time was when he had dinner with Aymeric. This time was after his heart was broken by Aymeric.

“I should’ve known better…there is no room in me for love.” He whispered as a soft fog appeared and disappeared at his lips. “I am just Eorzea’s greatest weapon. A tool to be used.” Tears froze to his cheeks as they left his purple eyes. His shoulder shook and with his head in his arms, he cried. Tail wrapped around his body, like a kitten hiding under a building in fear, he wept.

Memories flashed through his mind of him and Aymeric. How they fought side by side for Ishagrd and for Ala Mhigo. Their time spent in private where they could just talk and be friendly. How it seemed Aymeric’s eyes twinkled each time Taashiel entered the room. All of it, gone in a single moment. A moment of passion between two lovers, left a broken hearted cat to freeze beneath the city streets. He didn’t care if he did freeze. Eorzea could protect itself. The one thing he wanted most in life. Love, acceptance, and admiration, yanked from him like a rug under his feet, leaving his a sprawled out mess on the snow.

“I was so blind….blinded by my love for him. To see that he never did love me,” He cried to himself and to the air around him. Ishgard felt much colder than before. Twelve help him.

[evelynrina]

The Songstress and the Unicorn Chapter 15

                                                                                                                    Chapter 15 EVELYN I stood with Alphinaud and Tataru in the intercessory. Haurchefant had told us to wait for him here. I wondered if it had anything to do with his visit to Ishgard and begging for refuge on our behalf. I looked over at Alphinaud. He had a determined look on his face.

"The dawn's light will shine again..." he said. "So long as we have these specious accusations hanging over us, we will struggle to achieve anything." He turned slightly to me. "You just go to Ishgard, as Tataru proposed. I will return to Ul'dah and set things right." I looked at the young man with a quizzical look. That sounds like an incredibly hasty idea...  The door opened and Haurchefant walked in a slight chuckle and the shake of his head.

"Pray do not be so hasty, Master Alphinaud!" Haurchefant said, more cheerful than normal. "Well, you're quite chipper." I replied with a smile.                                                 

"Lord Haurchefant?" Alphinaud said with a slight tilt of his head.

Haurchefant was silent. He closed his eyes as if trying to find the right words of what he was about to say next. "Full well do I understand your desire to clear your names." he said, more serious than I had ever seen him. He smiled, and said more brightly, "But now is not the time for drastic action. You yet have allies upon whom you can rely. There is no need to act alone."

I sighed in relief, thankfully I wasn't the only one with the level head here. Alphinaud nodded, realizing that of course Haurchefant was right.

"Yes..yes, of course. Pray forgive my impatience." Alphinaud said, though still sounding a bit impatient.

Haurchefant smiled and nodded. "I bring tidings. Count Edmont has decreed that the three of you be taken in as wards of House Fortemps. Under our patronage, you shall be granted access to the city proper. Pray consider our manor your new headquarters, from which you may gather information and plan how best to proceed. Needless to say, should any of your missing allies be found--as I am certain they shall--they will of course be welcome to join you there." he said cheerfully, so cheerful I would've thought he was going to jump out of his skin.

Alphinaud gave Haurchefant a look of delighted shock. "You are more than generous, my friend. On behalf of my fellows, I humbly accept your offer of hospitality."

Haurchefant turned and looked at me, smiling. "The count is a good man and just. He will treat you with the kindness and respect that a hero--and dear friend--deserves." I gave him a smile back, blushing slightly as our eyes meet, holding our gaze a little longer than we should. Tataru noticed the exchange and grinned with her hand over her lips slightly. Dear friend...is that all we are? We've done more than what mere friends should be doing. Just what are we really? "To Ishgard, then--together. There we shall carry on the Scions' legacy. There we shall being anew." Alphinaud said, the determination back in his face. I smiled. No longer was he the little boy wallowing in self pity like he was a few months before. He had his old fire back. His broken blade reforged and mended. "Hear, hear!" Tatura chirped, jumping about excitedly. "No, no, no, no...." said a voice breaking me from past reverie to the present. I found myself sitting at the grand banquet hall of Ala Mhingo castle, sitting across from my host, a tall and broad man with long strawberry blonde hair and blue eyes and heavily armored. Zenos.... I looked up at him, our eyes interlocking. He smirked, with his hands folded under his chin, tilting his head slightly in amusement.                                             "You are not being entirely truthful in your story...Evelyn. You see...that is what I hate about some story adaptations...they always seem to alter the truth in some way. I shall admit, you nearly convinced....Had I not known who you truly are." He said, tapping the side of his head and smiling.I gasped. He had seen through my rouse...of course he did..he can control the Echo at will, whenever he so pleases. I glared at him.

"Then if you know everything...why should I even tell you?! Why did you even have me brought here!?" I screamed, slamming my hands on the table as I stood up. He chuckled. "My, my....you are quite the little firecracker after all, are you not? You fascinate me, Warrior of Light! Unlike the mindless savages who fight for a cause they know not whether they will win or lose...For I know your true purpose of why you fight." I tilted my head angrily at him. "Oh? And what is that? Don't you toy with me!" I screamed, raising my hand to cast a volt spell at him.

                                                                                                                 Zenos raised his hand. "I would not do so if I were you, girl! If I was going to harm you, I would have already done so, and with much ease...though you are becoming more an more of a worthy prey. Now then before you had so rudely interrupted...the reason why you fight is..." he stopped dramatically, placing his hand over his heart and closing his eyes briefly before opening them and smirking at me. "Love." I fell back down in my seat, trying to block everything out. "Stop it..." "Yes....Yes...it was all for him....even now that..." "SHUT UP!!!" He smiled. "You anger at the mere thought of your beloved being mentioned...yet...to lie about your story with him comes so easily to you. Come now...tell me your story...your true story. For I know that you were not twenty two summers then...for that is the age you are now and quite some time has past. And we also know that your father was not a merchant from Limsa...nor had you ever visited the Holy See of Ishgard when you were but a child...had you done so would have meant certain death for you." He gave me quite a dark smile, "Although...I am intrigued by this dark character you created of the Lord Commander. While he is no villain...however, you sense it too, do you not? You are not prey to just one man...for you had created him in your story with what you have seen inside him." I gasped, speechless, shaking my head. "N-no...you're wrong...he's not like that! He's a good man!"

 "So, because he has a dark side...that means he has an evil heart? Action speaks louder than words, my friend. It is when he acts on those desires...then you would change your words." I blinked. "When? What do you mean by that?" He laughed. "We are straying far from topic...please, your story...your true story. No lies, no tricks...your true unabridged story of you and your beloved...the Songstress and the Unicorn!" I sighed, and nodded. It was no use, it was best to just humor him and find out what he wants after. "Alright, you win...the real story...well...it actually began when I was in search of the Enterprise and our search brought us to Camp Dragonhead...." ********** So this isn't my strongest chapter but it was something to break the writers block. I am so so so sorry for this extended hiatus. Please if you ever see me stray for more than a month on this, please give me a loving tap on my head and tell me to get on with it! I thought you all didn't care about this story and so much has changed with Evelyn's background that I felt stuck and I was deeply frustrated. A few weeks back when I saw all of your messages, it told me otherwise that people still want life in this story and that is what I set out to do! I can't promise weekly updates...but i'm going to try for monthly updates at the very latest. I just want to thank you all for your support and love for if it wasn't for you, I would've given up on this completely. So thank you again from the bottom of my heart!

[kivaember]

Obligatory Starlight Celebration Fic

Or rather, Aza learns what Starlight actually is, since I doubt it’s celebrated in the Steppes or in Othard in general, since it culminated from an Ishgardian tradition. So. 

Miiiight do a part two! Maybe. We’ll see (if I do it’ll probably be shameless xmas smut ngl)

The Jewelled Crozier had transformed overnight.

The normally understated, grey and snowy street was bright with colour and out of place cheer, piles of papered and ribboned boxes littering the space between shop stalls, snowmen rolled neatly into place with top hats and thick, healthy carrots for noses, and gold and silver tape strewn everywhere above their heads. There was even a tinny, upbeat song on the edge of his hearing, though he couldn’t see a band or orchestrion in sight.

“What… is this…?” he muttered under his breath, trying not to look utterly bewildered as he took the last few steps onto the Jewelled Crozier proper. It was still early morning, just after dawn, where normally the only signs of life were shops opening up for the day and the odd, unfortunate Temple Knight dragging themselves through the last leg of night patrols. Today, however…

It was busy. Busy with a certain hustle and bustle that Aza was slowly beginning to recognise as festive. Ah. This must be another weird Eorzean holiday. Odd. Normally one of the Scions or Aymeric would warn him off, but then again, they had been busy lately with the mess in Doma and Ala Mhigo, so it wouldn’t surprise him if it slipped their mind.

Aza idly scratched under his jaw as he skirted the edges of the early morning crowd, making his way to his usual haunt: Denise’s Stall.

She was an old Temple Knight turned chef once the Dragonsong War had ended – the final battle on the Steps of Faith had resulted in the loss of a leg, ending her career as a knight – and Aza had discovered her by complete chance when roaming Ishgard before dawn was even touching the horizon. Knowing how hard and demoralising the night patrol can be, Denise was the only food stall he knew that worked through the night and up until after noon, serving simple yet hardy foods, caffeinated drinks and tasty treats at prices aimed mostly towards hungry, grumpy knights – and Aza, apparently.  

Even her stall had transformed – she had a tiny snowman sitting on the corner of it with her donations pot sitting next to it, and it was bedecked in more ribbon than that noblewoman’s monstrosity of a dress from that Saint’s Wake party a few months back. The clash of gold, neon green, red and blue almost hurt his eyes.

Behind the eyesore of a store was Denise. She was stocky for an Elezen, with a darker complexion than most Ishgardians and biceps that would make Bluebird drool. Her face was also made for broad grins, laughlines already setting into the corners of her eyes. It suited her. It was nice to see someone so openly happy in a place as reserved and cool as Ishgard.

“Well, well, if it ain’t my favourite customer!” Denise greeted, leaning forwards on her gloves hands, her bright grin bearing pearly white teeth, “Come to admire the decorations?”

“Not really. I came to get breakfast,” Aza said, coming to a comfortable halt before the tall. Without thinking, he dropped his usual pouch of gil into the donations pot, “I’ve heard around the barracks that you’ve started making something called ‘pineapple fritters’?”

“Oh, yeah, courtesy of our new friends in the Ruby Sea,” Denise said, immediately turning to her stove to fulfil the order. Unlike most stores along the Jewelled Crozier, her stall was entirely outside, protected by a thick tarp that Aza was beginning to suspect to be as indestructible as pieces of Dalamud with how much it has weathered. Denise never had trouble with people trying to steal things from her, though. From what he heard she had a lot of good mates in the Brume, as well as the Temple Knights.

“So…” Aza began when the noise, and smell, of cooking filled the sharply cold air, “These decorations… I’m guessing another holiday is up?”

Denise paused for a fraction of a second, before she resumed her cooking with a small shake of her head, “I keep forgetting… yeah, it’s Starlight Celebration. It’s meant to celebrate selflessness and generosity and all that shite. Encourage people to be charitable. That sort of thing.”

“Instead of being charitable all year long?” Aza asked dryly.

Denise just shrugged, “You know some folk.”

Aza turned his attention back to his surroundings with fresh understanding, though he wasn’t sure what all the tape and snowmen and the weird, red costumes some of the crowd were wearing had to do with generosity and charity. The boxes… he supposed they were gifts? Meant to represent gifts, in any case…

“Do you have to do special stuff for it?” he asked.

“Well…” Denise’s tone lilted teasingly, “It’s tradition to give out presents.”

“Uh?”

“Normally there’s an event where the Smilebringers will dole out presents to the children,” Denise continued, “Maybe have some singing – the Ishgardian Choir does some amazing songs in the Saint Reymamaud’s Cathedral, if you’re interested in that. Then people go buy some foods, get drunk, be merry, then go home and give presents to some loved ones.”

Aza blinked slowly as he processed that, “Presents to… loved ones?”

“Aye,” Denise turned around, closing the lid on the box of pineapple fritters she just finished cooking up, “I suppose that’d be the Lord Commander for you, mm?”

“And that’s… the norm?”

“Yup,” Denise popped the ‘p’, holding out the box, “That’s 25g.”

Aza, who still couldn’t tell a 25g coin from a 100g coin, just handed her a fistful of silver coins from his pocket, “Is it a thematic present?”

“It can be whatever you want it to be, I guess,” Denise said distractedly, counting out the coins and heaving a sigh, “You’ve given me way too much.”

“Keep the change,” Aza said, “It’s fine. Think of it as me, uh, getting into the spirit of Stars Celebration or whatever.”

“Starlight,” Denise huffed, her mouth twisting a little, “Do you even know how much you’ve given me?”

“Enough to show my appreciation for your good work,” Aza said with mock-cheer, holding up his lovely smelling box of pineapple fritters and turning away, “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, yeah. Have fun shopping for the Lord Commander’s present!”

Aza waved distractedly over his shoulder, then teased the box lid open, breathing in the sweet smell of sugared batter. His stomach gurgled, and he gingerly picked up one piping hot fritter between his gloved fingers, ambling his lazy way out of the Jewelled Crozier and up the steps towards the Congregation of the Knights Most Heavenly.

Presents… if this was a normal celebration that came annually, then no doubt Aymeric would’ve gotten him something. Did ‘loved ones’ extend to family too? Friends? Or was it strictly a romantic partner thing, like Valentione’s Day? Damn, he should’ve quizzed Denise some more but… well, never mind.

Odd, that Aymeric never mentioned this upcoming holiday, though. Then again, he’d been awfully busy, so much so that he didn’t even come home last night! No doubt Aza would find him asleep at his desk again. He was lucky Aza was thoughtful enough to bring breakfast to him – probably grab some water too, to flush out all the caffeine he’d no doubt replaced all his blood with.

Aza took a bite out of his fritter, wincing when it was a bit too hot, and distracted himself from the slight burn on his tongue counting out how many fritters to set aside for his partner. As usual Denise kindly did a double order of eight fritters – and she tried to charge him for four! Honestly…

Smiling, Aza closed the lid to keep the warmth in, gingerly picking his way through the fritter already in hand, and began to plan.

[kivaember]

29. — preparation

(This is… minor spoilers, sort of, for Sharpen Your Claws. Slightly AU since it’s about a year after the fic, which was after 4.2 but before 4.3, and ofc that takes us beyond current patch time so… ugh fuck it let’s say minor AU and there was a suuuuuuuper long break in between 4.2 and 4.3! Also this is fanfic so it takes place wherever i want it too.

In short: enjoy disgustingly domestic ‘Aza and Aymeric raise a child together’ nonsense)

“I think she should have a knife.”

“She is not bringing a knife to school, Aza.”

“A small knife,” Da amended grudgingly, and Sameh hida smile by ducking her head as she pretended to tie her shoelaces. Da and Daddywere getting ready to walk her to her first day of school, bundled up againstthe snow outside, and they’d been having this argument since she’d been brushingher teeth. Da seemed to think she might have to knife-fight her way in betweenclasses and fend of creeps on the way to lunch, and Daddy thought he was beingsilly.

“No knife,” Daddy said.

“Tiny knife?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Sameh couldn’t stop the snort of laughter bubblingup, helping to dispel some of the tiny nervousness that had been sitting heavyin her belly since last night.

“What’re you giggling at, gremlin?” Da asked her,and when she looked up he was smirking at her. He was being ridiculous onpurpose, she realised, and she shyly smiled up at him as she fidgeted with hershoelaces. She had to wear a pretty stupid outfit – nothing like the comfy,fluffy tunics Uncle Felyx and Auntie Bluebird buried her under – but Daddy hadinsisted that it was a uniform and everyone else would be wearing the samestupid thing, so she wouldn’t be the odd one out.

Only, she’d be the only Miqo’te. Everyone else would be Elezens. It made her nervous.

“You’re being silly,” she said, flicking her tail, “Idon’t need a knife, Da.”

“See,” Daddy said a bit smugly.

“I need a sword,” she finished, and chanced a lookat Daddy. He let out a sigh of fond exasperation as Aza laughed.

“Well,” Daddy said wryly, “I know a few childrenwho would take a sword to school. Evidence of lordship and all.”

“Right, and Sameh is a little lord too,technically,” Da quipped, leaning down to ruffle her hair so hard her headwobbled. She whined and ducked to escape, “Heir to House Borel and whatnot.Anyone give you grief over that you can bop them over the head with your Ma’ssword.”

“Please don’t,” Daddy said, “Fighting is grounds forexpulsion.”

“I’ll bopthem over the head,” Da said instead.

“You’ll be arrested for that, Aza.”

“Well, it’s not like they’ll bop themselves, Aym,” Dahuffed, then perked up, “Oh, how about Rations-”

Daddy interrupted Da by dragging him into aheadlock, and Sameh heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes when they started doing areally childish playfight. That was eithergoing to end in gross kissing or Daddy getting bitten followed by gross kissing,so Sameh ignored them and finished tying her shoelaces.  

—

It ended with gross kissing because of course. They were so disgustingly inlove sometimes.

Sameh loved it. The kissing was still gross though.

—

Ten minutes later they were walking to school,Sameh in between Da and Daddy and feeling more and more nervous with each step.It was snowing a little, and the ground was crunchy from where the grit was putdown that early morning. The school she was going to was also part of the bigspiky looking church that sat at the very top of Ishgard, and she was told thatit was a school most ‘stuck up spoiled high-class brats’ went to, according toDa. Daddy said the same thing, but in a more polite way.

Because of who Daddy and Da were, she was allowedto attend that school – was actively encouraged, in fact, since everyone sawWarrior of Light and Lord Commander of Ishgard as her parents and expected bigthings from her too. She had to cram so much stuff about Halone that was testedin its entrance exam because it was mandatory to have some understanding of Herdue to some dumb reason Sameh didn’t care about. She knew there were lots of noblesunhappy with her going, because of more dumb reasons she didn’t care about, andDaddy told her to expect to be tested harder than anyone else.

She pointed out that this was unfair, and Daddysaid that it was, that he understood because he experienced the same thing when he’d been adopted by the House Borelfamily. Everyone wanted you to fail, to prove their stupid self-superiorityright – in her case, that Miqo’te didn’t belong in the upper-class education systembecause they were stupid or too uncultured – so you had to work harder just togain the same amount of recognition for those who barely worked at all. Daddyhad told her she didn’t have to go because of that, that he could see if shecould be home-schooled by some of Da’s Scion friends instead, but…

Well. She didn’t want to be chased off by some dumbspoiled brats. Sameh was tough as nails, Da said so, and compared to the otherthings she saw and endured, putting in hard work to put some dummies in theirplace wasn’t all that bad. She knew she could do it. In fact, she could be the best so no one could say bad things aboutMiqo’te ever again in Ishgard, and that otherMiqo’te could do this super amazing schooling without having to have parentswho literally saved entire City States strongarm the headmaster.

(Sameh knew that her application had been rejectedat first, that Daddy had to tell Da to calm down and that he would deal with it.The next day she got her acceptance letter and when she went to the interviewwith the headmaster afterwards where he congratulated her on ‘winning’ herplace, Daddy accompanied her and had terrified the headmaster in squeaky silencejust by smiling pleasantly at him.

People always said Da was the scary one, but Daddycould be really scary when he wantedto be. Even Da listened to Daddy when he got mad)

“What’re you thinking about, gremlin?” Da asked herwhen she’d been quiet too long, “You still traumatised from us kissing?”

“Yes,” she said, “I see it in my nightmares.”

Daddy made a suspicious coughing noise that soundeda lot like laughter.

“Who taught you to be so cheeky?” Da grumped, buthe was smiling so she knew he wasn’t that annoyed, “I bet it was you, Aym, yousnarky git.”

“Me?” Daddy sounded so offended it was hilarious, “Iam the model of good behaviour, thank you very much. She must have learnt itoff you.”

“Hey, I’m the Warriorof Light,” Da drawled, “I can neverbe cheeky. It’s not in the job description.”

Sameh listened to her parents playfully banter witheach other, pleased with herself, and idly kicked a clump of slushy snow as shepassed it. Yeah, she thought, squeezing her parents hands tight, she’d be fine.

—

Da revisited the Knife Issue once they were in theschool’s front courtyard.

“Look,” Da was saying, holding Sameh tight aroundthe shoulders with one arm, and holding a small pocket knife with the other, “I’mjust saying, if a Garlean assassin comes dropping out of the ceiling, thisknife could mean life of death.”

“If a Garlean assassin comes dropping out of the ceiling,one tiny pocket knife won’t decide anything,” Daddy said a bit flatly, “Aza,stop giving our child knives. She doesn’t want one.”

Sameh, who had been eyeing a few of the otherchildren milling in front of the school’s courtyard and noting how many of themlooked twice her size and weight, said, “I think I want one now.”

“You were saying? See, Sameh knows what’s up.”

Daddy confiscated the knife.

“Aw,” Da said.

“Sameh,” Daddy said, the knife vanishing somewhereinto his coat. He knelt in front of her, since he was ridiculously tall, andsmiled at her, “You have your linkpearl, right?”

“Yup.”

“Any difficulties, you can call one of us at anytime. Don’t worry about interrupting us, we’ll answer.”

“Yeah,” Da said, giving her a squeeze about theshoulder in a half-hug before reluctantly letting go, “If anyone gives youshit, beat them up.”

“Aza.”

“Tell the teacher,” Da amended with a wink.

“I will,” Sameh said, making a note to beat uppotential bullies where there’d be no witnesses.

Daddy ruffled her hair, a lot gentler than Da, andstood up, “Behave,” he told her, “And good luck.”

Sameh nodded, her stomach fluttering like she’deaten a whole cage of butterflies, and tried to keep her face very straightwhen Da tried to slip a pocket knife into her coat pocket without Daddynoticing. Daddy did notice. He confiscated that knife too.

“Aw,” Da said again.

Daddy curled his fingers into the collar of Da’scoat and hoisted him to his feet, keeping him in place like he was amisbehaving puppy, “Do you want us to walk you inside?”

Sameh hesitated but shook her head. She wasnervous, but she was prepared. Daddy had made sure she was educated to the samelevel in between work, and Da expanded her knowledge even further on morepractical things. She wasn’t the frightened little girl Da dragged out of theIshgardian wilderness anymore. She could face down a school filled with snottynoblemen who’d look down at her for something as simple as her birth and race.She’ll prove them all wrong, easy.

“I’ll be fine,” she said brightly, “I’ll make youproud, Da and Daddy.”

“You already have,” Daddy said with a smile.

“Yeah,” Da added, “Show them who’s the best, gremlin.”

Sameh saluted, delighted when her parents laughed,and turned on her heel and boldly strode forwards, her stomach twisting with nerves,but her heart strong with courage and determination.