#more of my fantasia shenanigans i'm so sorry if it's confusing

[bi-disastersoup]

WolGraha Week 2023 - Day 1: ~First Kiss~

If one were to ask the Warrior of Light when his first kiss was with his current partner, he would answer quickly and without hesitation.

"Ishgard," he replies, "a few weeks after we returned from Ultima Thule."

His partner, however, is not so quick to answer, and in fact looks to be dodging the attention of the other man.

"It was Ishgard," R'alma repeats, though he sounds like he is losing confidence in his answer.

"Amity, actually," G'raha corrects, so quietly he can barely be heard.

"No. No, it couldn't have been." R'alma is shaking his head now, and looking thoroughly confused. “I’d have remembered,” he adds in a small voice.

And G’raha only scratches awkwardly at his cheek as a small blush dusts his nose. “Well, ah…” he stutters after a moment. “After the talos was completed, the town was in rather high spirits, what with the final battle so close in reach. And besides the spirits flowing in the tavern, the atmosphere itself was rather intoxicating.”

“I wasn’t that drunk that night,” R’alma pouts, crossing his arms. “I remember the celebration vividly.”

“Yes, of course,” G’raha concedes. “But what you do not seem to remember is how late you remained awake. I made every effort to persuade you to get some rest, but you were near delirious with nerves and insomnia. And you…”

It comes back to him now – fuzzy, half-conscious memories of stumbling through the town at an hour that should have been dark. Falling into the shadowy robed figure. Being helped up by half-crystallized hands…

The anxiety that plagued her made it impossible to sleep, despite how tired she was. Not to mention the blinding Light. She had just got used to sleeping in the dark again back at the Crystarium. And so she stumbled aimlessly through the silent village, searching for gods knew what.

And then there he was, looming before her, casting a blissful shadow over her form. She lost her footing in her daze, the sudden appearance of him sending her into a stumble. Her body never hit the ground, for he caught her in his arms.

One crystal hand brushed against her horn as he righted her.

“R’alma!” he exclaimed, holding her steady by the shoulders. “You should not be about at this hour, you need your rest!”

“Couldn’t sleep,” she muttered, blinking at him blearily. “Too bright.”

There was a buzzing in her head that she knew could not have been from the festive gathering several hours before. She could feel it – droning, humming, sloshing around inside of her like a barely contained tide, constantly threatening to spill out.

She knew the odds were poor of her being able to take on any more of it.

But still, he asked more of her.

And she would do whatever he asked.

“There’s a good chance I don’t make it back tomorrow,” she drawled, stepping forward to lean into his touch. “And if that happens, I don’t want to leave anything unsaid.”

In the brief moment hanging between them, he breathed her name. And she couldn’t be sure, but she swore he left off her tribal mark. The buzzing in her ears was too loud, but it made her smile nonetheless.

And before another second could slip away, she pressed forward until her mouth was on his. It was soft and plush beneath her lips, tasting of whatever tea Dulia had given him to return his strength earlier. And the Light burned in her throat, pushing and rising and threatening to rush out and take him. But she bit down, pushing it back so it would not consume him like it had her.

He stood in silent shock for a moment, unsure how to respond. When she did not pull away, however, he wrapped his arms around her and pressed her to him, returning the kiss with a fervor. He seemed to her like a man lost to sea grasping at a lifeline, so desperately did he deepen it.

When at last they broke apart, her panting for breath and he clenching his jaw in restraint, her luminous eyes sought for his in the shadows of his cowl. “Forgive me, my Lord Exarch,” she gasped. “I fear I may be falling for the charms of your mysterious persona.”

“Alma…”

And there it was again. Her name – her given name alone – breathed into the space between them like a lover’s whisper. Heavy and dripping with a desperation she couldn’t begin to understand.

“But that was unfair of me,” she said reluctantly, pulling herself away. “After all, as I said, I may be walking to my death in the morning.”

“You will most certainly not… be walking to your death,” he murmured haltingly, collecting himself from the surprise of her assault. “Of that, I can… assure you with the utmost confidence.”

“Now please,” he added, as he turned her forcibly back toward the cabin in which she and her companions had been staying. “Please, you need your strength. Go and rest.”

And R’alma buries his face into his hands as the faded memory returns to him, groaning in mortified distress. “Oh gods, please tell me I didn’t actually… I thought that was a dream.”

With a small grin, G’raha moves to comfort him, gently stroking his drooping ears. “I am afraid not, love. So sure were you of your impending demise, I would deign to suggest that was a confession as well, were you not so agitated from exhaustion.”

“I was sick,” R’alma gripes, muffled still by his hands which have not left his flushed face. “Don’t ever let me talk when I’m sick. I clearly have no clue what I’m saying.”

And G’raha laughs as he presses a kiss to his partner’s head. “Try not to dwell on it, my star, ‘tis of no consequence. I myself was far too occupied with my own impending demise to be much bothered. And besides, we are here now, all things considered. And that is all that matters.”

R’alma grumbles, but he melts into the embrace all the same. And at any rate, the question has been answered.

Their first kiss was at Amity, on the eve of the attack on Mt. Gulg. Not in Ishgard.