#idk if i should tag this still as ffxivwrites

[frostsong]

FADE (v.2)

meteor!wol/euphemie. slight au where euphemie is not the warrior of light, but rather a dragoon in the service of ishgard due to her family’s loss of land and title.

 post-heavensward.

on saying goodbye and leaving some things left unsaid. 

“You have no idea how much I loathed this one.” His eyes are on her back but he can see her roll her eyes as she hoists something old and yellowed up from the chest.

 When she spreads it he can recognize the detailed etchings and intricate patterns of white lace, layered by some sort of heavier fabric that kept it from being completely transparent.  “To think it was here all this time...” He muses with a nod. While he’s no stranger to hearing thoughts that aren’t his own, to being in places he shouldn’t belong, Euphemie never once made him feel excluded. It seemed she had that effect on everyone, and in her sly jokes, dimpled smiles and gentle reassurances he felt needed, wanted. It was the least of what he could expect since being granted solace in Ishgard, but past the chilly initial reception he had proven himself worthy of a name within the city walls, while the rest of the realm was still tentative on claiming him once again as their Warrior of Light.

“It certainly wouldn’t have been my first pick even if I’d known what would happen beforehand,” She shrugged with the dress folded around her forearm, a slip of dusky rose sliding past her shoulders and onto her chest.

“I’m more practical than that.” She gives him a smile, bitter and sweet, like an exhale after remembering a bad memory, and he smiles back.

“...Can I ask you something?” She pivots a step closer, relaxing her arms with the edge of her faded lace dress hover right above her boots.

He nods.

“Your Echo. Have you...ever seen anything with me?” Euphemie stops after another slow step closer, with an expectant gaze that was more curious than anything else. When he looks down and hesitates, she retreats her stare off to the side, feeling a tinge of remorse for bringing back what might have been something less than flattering, even if it could’ve been a memory of her own.

“I mean--you don’t have to tell me exactly what it was you saw, but...” 

“I didn’t see anything.” A relief to them both, and her shoulders sag with a laugh that barely covers a sigh. She’s had more than enough of her own share of troubles, and the last thing he needs is another addition to the weight of the world he has on his shoulders. Euphemie was almost giddy at the idea that she was among the few who wouldn’t be a burden by memory--only by association. And that second part was to be remedied by him leaving the city in short time, leaving her to pick up the pieces with the rest of her countrymen, for both the past and the future.

“When you’re out there...good luck.” She nods, rolling the dress tighter between her arm and chest. He nods in return again, giving her a smile with less shine than her own, but just as warm--maybe he’s learned from the best. The best in Ishgard, anyway. Or so Hilda can attest.

“Thank you...for everything,” He adds, making her blink in quiet surprise.

“though Ser Alberic and Heustienne did much to help pave the way for my training, I woudn’t’ve gotten anywhere had you not been there--” His efforts at a compliment were always sparse, awkward. But endearing nonetheless, and an annoying tug at her heartstrings grows all the more aggravating as he continues.

“--I don’t think I would’ve stood a chance against Nidhogg without your aid.” The wyrm’s name makes her chuckle, a laugh too lighthearted for a fight that held such monumental implications had he not bested him.

“Aid? By helping you with learning how to land...”

She dares a few steps closer, stopping once she’s half an arm’s reach away.

“...or by telling you about Coalline.” Despite his growing embarrassment at how close she is he laughs, gentle and lost in a soft breath.

“Both. Though I think we can both agree on not letting Estinien know.” 

“That’s more on my end. You’re leaving, so you can tell whoever you want that the Azure Dragoon cried over a lost karakul.” She nudges him playfully in the shoulder with a wink, and he grins.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“Don’t bother, I know you’re too nice for that.” She waves it off with one hand as she returns to the chest with the messily folded dress, placing it right back where she found it, right back where it belongs.

“What are you going to do with this place?” His hand rests on the entrance of the room she used to call her own, and though the place has seen better days with less dust and cobwebs, all of the city is due for reconstruction, rebuilding, renewal.

“I thought of having a word with the clergy--the good ones, mind you--and having it turned into an orphanage. Think of how happy they’ll be to have a home closer to the Jeweled Crozier!” She beams wide at the thought of the little ones she’d encountered, whose eyes shone like the light of ice sprites when she’d uncovered the candy within her gauntlets. 

“Odile said she would help too, and Hilda--since we’ve done our share of the good, the chances of those with the right ties to the right people willing to give us their aid must be higher than ever. Better to strike while the iron’s hot, as they say?” His smile is warm and wide as he nods in agreement. 

“And you’d better stop by when you visit. I can already feel that they’ll be talking for you months on end--years, even.” The lid of the chest shuts with her twisting the lock to a resounding click.

“You have my word.” 

Her steps feel heavier as she approaches him again, with him pivoting to the side lest she seeks to leave first. The old key rolls uncomfortably between her fingers as she faces him at the foot of the door, lips pressed and twisting in the search for the right words--or at least, the ones she won’t regret. It’s the final moment for a while they’ll have with one another, and they’ve both let too much slip past their fingers to allow for another regret.

Instead, her gaze creeps up the folds of his shirt, the tip of his chin, before settling on his still downcast gaze, and she realizes he’s in the same predicament as herself.

She meant to say his name, plain and simple, but it comes off as more of a question, a plea for attention.

“...Thank you. For everything.” Her chin bobs with the weight of each word, with the thud of her heart. 

He smiles, less wide than before with a more muted shine--but the warmth never diminishes, never fades. 

“And to you as well...Euphemie.” 

She leaves first simply because it’s easier than to watch him do it himself.