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chrysalispen · 4 years ago

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borealis, #1 (Nero/WoL, prompt response)

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28633701/chapters/70185441

Prompt: One ship, ten kisses shared. -cheek -forehead -crown of the head -nose -eyelids -lips -neck -thigh -hand -foot

Bonuses if: -1 kiss type per scene, ten scenes total -5 initiated by one partner, 5 by the other.

First prompt response below cut.

1. cheek

"Seven hells, it's cold-"

Four words she had never thought would possibly escape her lips, in the five years since she'd left Garlemald, and yet here she was. A sharp, brisk gust of chilly air blew through the crack in the front door before Aurelia Laskaris managed to pull it shut.

One of Coerthas' winter storms had blown off its expected course and produced snow- real snow, too, not the cold rain that had normally wrapped up the year's end ever since the Calamity. Heavy flurries of white now fell in placid sheets upon the denizens of the Lavender Beds, blanketing the adventurers' enclave in winter stillness, and Aurelia found herself quite grateful that she'd not yet managed to set aside the time to reseed her gardens after returning to the Source. Already on her way down the road to get the post she'd heard several of her neighbors grousing about their ruined crops.

She slipped her feet into her soft house shoes and padded into the kitchen, snapping on a nearby light and making a beeline for the automated kettle next to the range. After a moment the rich scent of roasted coffee wafted into the air.

Once she had helped herself to a mug full of the brew Aurelia ambled into her sitting room to admire the fruits of her labors. Holly garlands draped the windows and the rafters, adorned with the same red and gold organza ribbons as the large Coerthan spruce in the corner. All were strewn with lights that cast a soft glow over each leaf and translucent curl. She had fashioned a simple wreath to hang in the kitchen where the cookfire burned low to keep the night's meal warm for gradual consumption, and it sat in its place above the mahogany dish rack. Beneath the low lights and the fresh smell of evergreen and apples and cinnamon, her orchestrion trundled quietly through a selected collection of songs.

As she gazed at the tree the tilt of her smile took on a pensive cast. The greenhouse at the Laskaris villa - her de facto domain - had been wholly subject to her uncle and his austere aesthetic sensibilities. Every leaf and branch had had to be bound and trimmed and neatly in place. In the seven years she had lived there, not a single ilm of the family property had been allowed to have Aurelia's touch upon it. Not even the room in which she'd stayed when out of school on term breaks.

The little forest cottage wouldn't be seen as much in the way of wealth, not back in the capitol. To the eyes of her aunt and uncle, or anyone else in her family for that matter, it would be positively rustic if not outright primitive. It didn't have a magitek greenhouse or a central heating system, and precious few technological amenities. But nearly every piece of furniture in it had been fashioned by her own hand. Including the decorations she now admired.

This was her place. That was what mattered.

"You look in a fine mood," a voice drifted upwards from the cushions of the sectional. Aurelia grinned and set the mug down upon the low-slung table.

"I was just thinking about how much I enjoy having my own house."

"Must say I rather enjoy you having a house myself, all things considered." She felt a slight nudge against her side, followed by a faint clatter. Nero was sitting up, the tomestone in his hand having joined her coffee mug on the side table. "...It looks good, by the by."

"What does- oh. The tree? You wouldn't believe the ridiculous lengths I had to go to in order to get that here."

"Having involved myself in your adventures on multiple occasions, I assume shenanigans of some sort must necessarily be involved unless otherwise stated. You've something of a knack for finding trouble."

"Trouble which you have instigated on more than one occasion."

"As I said," that grin was all teeth, "you've a knack for finding trouble. And speaking of finding things, I'll be back in a moment."

Aurelia watched him amble through the stairwell entrance and turn the corner past the orchestrion to make his descent. She noted (with some considerable amount of personal amusement) that for all her grousing about the former tribunus' presence at the combined Ironworks-Scions Starlight party Tataru had also made Nero a natty holiday jumper - and she'd even knitted it using yarn she had dyed in his favorite color. All the more surprising, although he had not said a word about the gathering since, was the fact he was actually wearing it.

Her smile returned as she retrieved her mug.

The coffee was half gone by the time he returned, this time bearing a rather bulky unwrapped box in his hands. He shifted it from his shoulder to his hands with a soft grunt that indicated it was every ilm as heavy as it appeared. "I was going to give this to you later," he explained, setting it down in front of her feet, "but as usual I've no idea when either of us might be off again."

"A gift?" Still smiling, Aurelia set the mug aside. "Since when do you celebrate Eorzean holidays?"

" 'When in Allag', and all that. And Mistress Tataru, despite her threats, did leave the pins out of the undertunic she gave me." A brief smirk tilted his mouth. "I do believe your little secretary likes me more than she lets on."

"Or she's resigned herself to your presence. For Cid's sake, you know."

"You jest, but this is actually a joint gift from myself and Garlond. As you know, he's had to return to Othard. Thus, I am the one tasked with presenting it." At her hesitation, he urged, "Go on, open it."

With some effort she lifted the box into her lap. It was a standard-issue imperial transport container made of reinforced black steel, and the base was cold enough that it radiated a chill even through her breeches; she winced when its weight settled into her thighs. Carefully she unfastened the latches and lifted the lid-

-and her eyes went wide at its contents. "...This is-"

"A portable refrigerated centrifuge."

"Where in the seven hells did you find one of these? I haven't set hand to a personal centrifuge in years. The medical laboratory at Castrum Novum just used those massive consoles that they'd built to set-"

"Into the wall mounts in the old R&D sectors, yes. At any rate, I plucked the original from one of the research bays- not that it was functional when I found it, mind, but there are schematics in the archives for just about anything one can imagine."

"Surely it wasn't necessary to go to all that trouble."

"That is where you would be wrong," he said dryly, lifting the centrifuge from its storage with considerable effort. The angle was somewhat awkward, and it wobbled for a moment before Aurelia was able to brace her hands and take it from him. He fastened the latches and reached over the arm of the sofa to set the container out of the way. "There were several specific components I required for the modified buildout which, one can safely say, cannot be sourced via other means."

"Precisely how much did you modify it?" Aurelia tilted the heavy tool this way and that, watching the lights from the tree shimmer over its smoothly brushed surface. "...I'm not about to find an operable magitek laser turret tucked into the rotor or something equally daft, am I?"

He squinted at her but chose to ignore the remark. "Aside from a minor tweak for improved performance, as it happens there was only one major modification to the original build. For practicality's sake."

"Only one?"

"Only one. Why?"

She pressed a hand to her chest in mock surprise.

"That sort of self-restraint isn't like you at all. Are you certain you're well?"

"Trying to be funny again, I see." He cast his eyes to the heavens. "I shall have you know it was his idea."

"Oh? That's a surprise."

"The auxiliary power source normally would need to be connected to a ceruleum generator for a charge, but this design utilizes aetheric energy harnessed from a corrupted crystal. Some wild hair of Garlond's cobbled together on a previous project with some degree of success, if the sales are any indication." His smile faded, lips pursed as if he'd bitten into some particularly sour piece of fruit. "...Given it sprouted from one of those half-baked experiments of his, I suppose it functions reasonably well."

He sounded rather surly - rankling, perhaps, at his own acknowledgment that he had needed Cid's assistance in order to complete the gift. When she wrenched her focus away from her silent admiration of the customized chassis (which was, of course, a deep wine red), his brows were knit together in a faint scowl that indexed that line nigh to the lower curve of his third eye.

Aurelia leaned over and gently brushed her lips against his cheek. It was warm and smooth, devoid of its customary evening shadow; she realized he must have taken a razor to his jaw earlier in the day. The earthy scent of sandalwood shaving soap lingered in her nose for a moment before she righted herself.

"If you frown like that every time you have to swallow your pride to ask for his help," she warned, poking his broad nose with one gentle fingertip, "you'll give yourself wrinkles."

"You mean more wrinkles," he groused. "In case you've not noticed, I'm not getting any younger."

"Yes, nigh on thirty-seven* winters now," Aurelia said with a perfectly straight face, though the mischievous twinkle that lit her dark blue eyes was impossible to miss. "Well past one's prime, in my professional opinion. Ancient. Antediluvian."

"Utterly decrepit," he sighed. The scowl had smoothed from his brow, and she knew by the lazy and unguarded drawl which now laced his words that he was no longer annoyed. "I'll be naught but dust by the time I'm forty."

"Doubtless. You could practically pass for an Allagan relic now- that is, if you weren't more easily mistaken for a bloody dhalmel."

Nero laughed aloud at last, the fine lines winging out from the corners of his eyes crinkling with his mirth, and wrapped his arms around her smaller frame - centrifuge and all. "Flattery will get you everywhere, hero," he said. "Come here."

She seated herself atop his thighs as if he were one of her reading cushions and relinquished her prize, shaking out the pins and needles in her arms as he set it next to the table, then returned to his full-body lounge. His woolen-clad arms lay draped over her forearms in a loose, casual sort of way, something almost but not quite an embrace.

Aurelia considered extricating herself to get more coffee, but the combined assault of the fireplace's crackle with the cable knit of Tataru's scarlet jumper seemed to beckon her into a warm and happy torpor, and the notion of leaving it aside even for a few moments seemed far too much effort so she pillowed her cheek against his broad chest. He was all angles and lean muscle but comfortable enough regardless. "Seriously though," she said, "I mean it. Please be at least somewhat mindful of your safety in future. That was a great deal of risk just for a blueprint and some parts."

"Come now, it wasn't that much trouble." His light tenor was only barely louder than the strong thump of the heartbeat she could hear with one ear just beneath his collarbone. "I all but strolled through the gates, and Garlond sent the very appropriately named Biggs along with me. Safe as houses."

Aurelia raised a skeptical brow - she had no doubt that more must have happened than he was letting on - but said only: "You're going to have to tell me all about it after I've set this up in my workspace."

"Ah." He cleared his throat. "I had... rather hoped I could be there when you do. So I can show you what changes were made, mind."

Even as the words left his mouth she watched the tips of Nero's ears turn pink, the same shade as the flush along his nose and cheekbones - neither of which could be attributed to the warmth of the room. She found it terribly cute but wasn't about to embarrass him further by saying so. "I'd like that very much," she beamed. "But it's rather late tonight. Tomorrow, perhaps?"

"I-" A hesitation, then a half-tilted smile. "...Tomorrow it is."

She pushed at the heavy chassis beneath the table with one stocking-clad toe and leaned comfortably into his side with a yawn. The last two days had been rather eventful but the sofa cushions were plush and cozy, the room was warm and quiet and dimly lit, and she was in the company of a close friend in a house she'd chosen for herself, drinking coffee and watching the snow fall in silent sheets through the windows.

For the moment at least, she was content. It was a good state of mind.

"Had I known you'd be this pleased I'd have prevailed upon Garlond much sooner," came the low, teasing rumble from the man whose cheek was now resting upon the crown of her head. She poked him gently in the side.

"That's because you're actually a good sort when you want to be, you know. Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. I won't even tell Tataru."

"Excellent. I should hate to have your lot think that perhaps I might enjoy their company. Can you imagine how ghastly that would be?"

"Making friends? The absolute horror of it all. Though I'm afraid you'll not be able to fool Alisaie or Tataru as long as you imagine. Or Y'shtola for that matter- she's rather discerning." Aurelia paused. "Also, she is quite often more than slightly terrifying."

"I shall take that as a friendly warning."

At his quiet scoff, she allowed herself a brief chuckle before her own smile faded somewhat.

"You really didn't have to do this, you know-"

"That's three times you've attempted to apologize. Don't. You're overthinking matters, as per usual," Nero said mildly. "Accept it in the spirit which it was intended- such is the purpose of this exchange, after all, so Garlond says. I did it because I wanted to do it, and that is reason enough."

She was going to ruin the moment if she said anything else, so she didn't. Instead she reached for the other hand that lay free in his lap. He let her lace his fingers through hers without comment, and when she squeezed he squeezed back.

They said nothing else after that for a long time. They sat together in comfortable silence before the hearth fire watching the wind spit snow onto the frosty window by the huge tree, and Aurelia found herself wishing every Starlight could end so well.

#garlean warrior of light #borealis prompts #nero/wol

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fisherrprince · 2 years ago

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I had an ask about alphiwyrm and alisaur and I saved it as a draft and it VANISHED into the aether so I GUESS…. ???? post halfway uncancelled I just wanna talk about them a bit.

alphiesaur is an ice-aspected dragon! both twins are umbral leaning but alisaie can dip into both for her red mageing. this means he can breathe a beam of ice-aspected aether and saie can breathe fire. His wings r big and kitelike, making him good at 1) getting off the ground and going straight up 2) gliding/flying long distances and bad at 1) maneuvering midair. not a boy who knows how to dodge. his wings r also made of a pretty tough leather which makes him good at shielding magic attacks. Since he can’t open a book very easily or carry it, he becomes a sage much earlier. And has a cute little backpack strap for his nouliths. Tataru is enthusiastically up for the challenge of making clothes/accessories for dragons.

alisaur has segmeted wings like hraesvelgr, which means she’s great at 1) maneuvering and dodging midair 2) going FAST and bad at 1) getting off the ground. She tends to prefer jumping off something to get wind under her sails first, which is easier when she can climb. Her wings are also hands, so she has an easier time interacting with things made for people. She still becomes a red mage, because through the POWER OF DRAGON MAGIC (and urianger) she has a floating sword. and the focus already floats so. Can you imagine a six foot tall twenty foot long red mage who can breathe fire and bite you AND has a rapier. Get verdunked on

they both figured out how to talk in draconic pretty fast but there was a period of alphy translating for alisaie and you could tell he was saying slightly different things. alisaie’s neck and side markings glow in the dark. Alphinaud constantly forgets how big he is, which is a terrible sign for when he has his growth spurt, and either bonks his head or tries to fit in a marketplace. this doesn’t stop kids from wanting to climb him. And alisaie keeps forgetting how long she is, and has gotten doors shut on her tail multiple times. neither of them chose to be a dragon on purpose, and it was mostly a set of machinations to get on the wol’s bad side (or at least distract him). he feels really bad about it.

WHA

WHERED MY DRAGON POST GO

#Saie really is a nickname that works better in text huh? You would say it ‘say’#Sai-e sounds better #anyways #ask #kipspeak #for fun. I’ve been sick for about ten hours it happens and I got bored and the ask was right there and I thought hey this is fun #where did it go? WELL #ffxiv

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lumikatdraws · 5 years ago

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#4: Clinch

("T," maybe gently "M." G'raha/WoL reminiscence and brief WoL/Aymeric. WoL POV.)

- - - - - - - - - -

- ✧ ☄ ☽ -

She stopped counting time by autumns after the Tower.

To worsen the bite—to make that evanescent season impossible to forget—Samantha was born near that border, her name day cast just before that liminal gasp. She was a late summer blossom that craved for cool air, and it pained her, after G’raha, to remember.

- - - - - - - - - -

The front end of dusk was beginning, the spire on the horizon aglow.

Another day, ordinary but for the circumstances. But that, she supposed, was the fodder for stories—mundane moments, supernormal per perspective. One hand crept to her chest and took her aethermist necklace in hand; toyed with the crystal and wondered—were the Scions at the Stones, sharing tea and fables and banalities their own? In her weeks spent afield mapping pathways, maiming monsters, scaling the echelons of the Tower—had her absence been felt?

Minfilia’s smile was warmer than sunshine and Samantha let herself bask for the briefest of breaths; felt the cool press of gemstone in her hand. “For your protection,” the Antecedent told her, and the Warrior turned the mother-shard gift between her fingers—watched it sparkle and shimmer.

Now it was warmed; imbued with heat from her skin, through her layers of chemise, blouse, and bodice. She thumbed the crystal and thought of Warde, of Waters—Tataru Taru serving tea—Papalymo preaching to Yda, Y’shtola scoffing fondly—Urianger pontificating while the Leveilleur twins attended—

A body a head-and-some smaller slammed into her back, strong arms grappling her into a bear hug.

“You sly old thing!”

The wind was knocked from her lungs, her imaginings scattered, as G’raha Tia all but wrestled her up off the ground. Senseless afresh at the show of his strength, she coughed. “Gods and hells.” It was difficult to remember the last time someone, in no uncertain terms, swept her off her feet. “What in the—Raha—put me down—”

“Why did you not tell me?”

He was audibly pouting.

She used the callused heels of both palms to wrestle the cinching clinch of his forearms, but his vise grip was unbending. She glared at his freckled, sunburnt skin, her voice strained. “Tell you what?”

“That today was your name day,” he sulked, rattling her body minutely. “I would have foraged for gifts.”

She huffed hard. Her cheeks prickled. Leave it to G’raha to winkle out her secrets.

But who told him?

…

She would kill Cid bloody Garlond.

Her body collapsed into deadweight. As usual, in defense against her sentiments—to tamp down the way her heart raced and fluttered, simply to know G’raha cared—

She reached for insipid banter. “Why did you not tell me you were so godsdamned brawny?”

“Aha,” he laughed. “You mean to imply you never noticed?”

There was a wink in his voice. She coughed, indignant—because of course she had, but— “Your ego would never survive how much I’ve noticed,” she wheezed, surprised by her own frankness. She could veritably feel the heat of his massive grin as he eased her back to earth.

His voice was a rumble, thrilled and satisfied. “Fabulous.” One last squeeze like a cincher at her waist, and then she was released. “Remind me to show you my trump cards more often.”

“Numpty,” she grumbled, pushing away.

She spun to scowl down and G’raha’s smile was wide as imagined, dry Mor Dhonan dust stirred up by the delighted lash of his tail. The tip curled and hooked like the side of his mouth. “Right,” he said, all candor and merriment and crisp bits of mischief. “How shall we celebrate?”

She spluttered. “I had no intention to—”

But his hand was shoved in hers and she was being dragged—a fond, familiar hauling she was furtively glad to call common. “Revenant’s Toll,” he said, hitched with excitement. “Our research can wait—”

“But Xande—”

“Is trapped,” said G’raha. “And I, for one, will not allow the horrors of Allag to interfere with your birthday.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Supper hung warm in her belly as they scaled the path to the greenery just past the Splendors.

The omnipresent chatter of settlers and workers faded into static as G’raha’s hand crept again to find hers. “This way,” he murmured, his palm pulsing her fingers with a gentle, affectionate wring.

Heaviness shunted her chest. For a breath, she feared she might burst open—might collapse and dissolve into hot surging butterflies, like those that crowded her stomach.

They moved beyond the dull commotion, and music distantly warbled, the melody stronger and stronger. G’raha’s ears flicked, overfocused in her vision, and when he turned to flash a grin, she felt sunshine again. “A troubadour,” he laughed—summer sunset, rich and rustling—and as they rounded the corner, she saw the minstrel in question, perched and playing her lyre on a half-mortared ledge.

The small square was under construction but G’raha Tia hardly cared. He towed her right up to the bard and threw down a handful of gil. The Warrior of Light watched in awe as the Baldesion Scholar listed songs by titles unfamiliar, stopping only when the bemused musician grinned.

“That one,” she said, flexing her hands. “I well know it.”

“Perfect,” G’raha breathed. He whirled to face Samantha. “Dance with me.”

It was not a request.

His hands snatched her wrists, then her fingers, and they were woven callus to callus. He brought his strength to bear again as she gasped his name—Raha—and they were spinning.

An ugly laugh tore from her throat, and she was dizzy—anchored by the bright sight of his smile. Her bearings were lost, her wits scattered. She watched the movement of his soft and beautiful mouth, and it took her too many heartbeats to realize he was singing.

The curl of his timbre plucked something far inside her. Ilsabardian, she realized. He was singing in that language—

Like Cassius—

Tears pricked her eyes.

“Your voice.” Hers was hoarse and husky. “It’s magnificent.”

The pitch on his lips spiraled off into a rich vibrato. “Another card to your liking, then?”

Her pulse filled her ears. She nodded, and at the way he dazzled, incandescent, reality beyond him was gone.

G’raha Tia was a riddle, hard and charming and delightful; so bizarre he left her petrified, more frightening, somehow, than a Garlean legatus. His smile stirred her aether, something quiet and arcane, and a swift, relentless pressure thumped like wingbeats in her chest.

I—

He twirled her into a spin. She bent along after; stumbled under his arms and snagged herself, boot tip to boot tip. A shout left her lips as she fell—the clinch of his arms snared her waist as he dove to catch her—and the two of them crumpled, gasping, to the ground.

One leg sprawled beneath him. One knee cocked against his hip. She giggled helplessly as his body shuddered overhead, laughter rolling from his chest. His ears were perked straight forward, his stare so warm.

“Some pair we make,” he murmured past the mirth, and he used one scuffed hand to push her tangled hair behind her ear; to stroke the pads of his fingers, very slowly, down her face.

They locked eyes. Both went still. With the weight of his body above her, cradled hips to cautious hips, a whisper of hunger burned inside her to realize how well they might actually fit.

He wet his lips. His pupils widened, then thinned back to slits.

Slowly, he disentangled them—stepped up and away and reached one hand down. Palm to palm, she was lifted, and— “Follow me,” he said. Again they were stitched at the fingers, her heart become the butterfly flutter, her blood alive with wild anticipation.

Notes fell from his lips—he was singing, and panting, and breathless—and she gripped his hand more tightly. Past the square, past the last hints of construction, past the edge of the Toll and out into Mor Dhona—

They ran into fields strewn with glowing crystals, and before she could catch her air, she was against him; hugged into the hard clutch of his arms like a cincher. He pressed his face to the edge of her shoulder, conspicuously avoiding her chest. “Samantha.” Her name was hot on his lips, hot on the skin past her vestments. Her arms curled, careful around him, and her sleeves slouched half-down. “I—” his voice cracked. “Have another gift,” he huffed. “That is—before I lose the courage to give it.”

Her hands crept up his neck; covetously traced the small plait at his nape. Her body was humming, her pulse racing fast, the precipice between them disappearing in a glimmer. She forced herself to ask. “What is it?”

His mouth at the fringe of her sleeve and her skin. “A kiss.”

Her heart was a stone plunging into her stomach. She froze—leaned back—found his mismatched eyes tilted up to her in gallantry and terror.

Yes, yes, yes—

Her throat was dry, and silence overlingered. He went tense. She felt him begin to recoil and stopped him, her thumbs by his lips. When she leaned down, her dark hair curtained around them.

“Kiss me, then,” she whispered.

Shadowed eyes roved her face. His hands stroked a path up her backbone. He tipped up his chin, and his mouth was soft and lush, his taste warm and bitter. He tried to leave her with a peck but she followed him for something good and proper, drinking the breath from the tip of his tongue, tasting hope and apprehension.

Their noses brushed together. “Happy name day, Samantha.”

- - - - - - - - - -

After that, winters seemed a better measure.

Winter was, after all, where she found summer again.

His laugh was warm and breathy. “I was born then, you know,” Borel hummed, voice like velvet and honey and richer than silk. “On that crisp cusp between greenings and heat.”

“Soft thing of springtime,” she called him.

“Monster of maying,” he whispered.

“Either way,” she kissed his lips. “You brought me sunshine again.”

- ☽ ✧ ☾ -

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2020 #G'raha Tia #Warrior of Light #Aymeric de Borel #g'raha/wol #aymeric/wol #ffxiv fanfiction #my writing #Samantha Floravale

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the-dragons-knight · 5 years ago

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WoLtober 2020

Day #2) Fangs

Party - ‘a social gathering of guests, typically involving eating, drinking, and entertainment’

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“What kind of party did you say this was again, Kat?” Aymeric asked, watching her fiddling with his vest and coat until she was satisfied with it.

“It’s a costume party. Mainly a kind of party one sees more of during the All Saint’s Wake season,” Katsum answered, checking him over before nodding and meeting his gaze, “Tataru thought it might be nice to hold one in Mor Dhona for everyone to enjoy as we all can finally enjoy a bit of respite thanks to the Garleans withdrawing as much as they have.”

“I do agree. While the idea of the All Saints Wake and the manner of the time is not particularly something I myself know much about, a festival for all manner of folk to join and enjoy is indeed a wonderful idea,” Katsum nods in agreement with him before he continued, “But...must I really wear these fangs? They are rather uncomfortable.”

Katsum grabbed his arm before he could pick at them again as he had been doing the whole time she’d been getting ready herself, “Don’t mess with them anymore. And yes, I would like you to wear them, please. You can’t very well match me as the count vampire if you don’t have your fangs.”

“But you are a werewolf, are you not?” He looked up at the wolf-like ears she wore over her own, reaching up and rubbing one of them until he could feel her own Miqo’te ear amidst the fur and fabric, “Or at least a much more cute one.”

Katsum nearly lost herself for a moment as his fingers massaged the cartilage of her hidden ear, yet she shook herself before she could start purring and swatted his hand away, “Don’t distract me, I’m almost done!” He chuckled with a grin as she flicked her ears to make sure the wolf-ear covers were still in place and patted down her skirt and made sure the sleeves of the dress were pulled down, “Yes, I am, but werewolves and vampires are some of the oldest known creatures of old folklore, and while they often fight one another, we are the opposite. Where there was often war, we found love.”

“Ah, I believe I understand then, so,” Suddenly she felt his arm snake around her waist and pull her in. As she fell flush against his chest, she looked up to meet his shouldering blue eyes that were darkened with desire as he loomed over her and whispered, “You are the damsel, and I am the creature that claimed you, yes?”

The blonde warrior blinked at the sudden change in his demeanor, stammering in shock as she answered, “W-Well yes, that’s the idea.”

“So then…” He moved down until his nose brushed her neck and breathed a warm breath on her skin, making her shudder, “I get to kiss this sweet neck of yours, and bite down upon it to mark you as mine then?”

Katsum’s ears flattened as her mouth fell open in a quiet gasp as she imagined the feeling, her fingers clutching at his coat to stay anchored to him, “Yes...yes please...”

He hummed as he drew nearer, ghosting his lips on her skin in a kiss before pulling away completely and standing straight again, a completely unphased smile on his face, “Perhaps later. We don’t want to be late to the party.”

Katsum gaped at him, her fluffed tail lashing about as she narrowed her eyes and pouted and smacked his chest, “You-! You are such a tease!!”

Aymeric laughed warmly at this and while she blushed and pouted, his laugh warmed her heart. Still, she reached up to the collar of his coat and pulled him down to her as she stood on her tip-toes and smashed her lips into his. She felt his arms wind around her waist then as he kissed back, and she happily found herself trapped as she leaned into him with a sigh.

“Ahem,” A voice from the door of the room drew them apart as they turned to see Alphinaud standing there with his arms crossed, dressed like a mad hatter with all manner of trinkets and buttons littering his coat, “Finally got your attention, I’ve been standing here for two minutes.”

Katsum blushed and pulled away from Aymeric’s arms as she cleared her throat and looked sheepishly at the young, white-haired Elezen, feeling her dear raven-haired husband intertwine his fingers with hers when he took her hand, “Apologises.”

Alphinaud shrugged and opened his mouth to speak when a glowing flash jumped into the room beside him and screamed, making him scream in terror as he fell back against the wall. Alisaie cackled in her glowing white ghostly tattered coat as she pointed at her older brother, “You should have seen your face! That was brilliant!”

Alphinaud flew to his feet again in rage, “ALISAIE! I told you that wasn’t FUNNY!”

“Oh no, you’re right. How silly of me,” She could barely contain her laughter as she replied, “It was actually HILARIOUS!!” She laughed again before jumping back out of the reach of Alphinaud’s hand and charging out of the door again with Alphinaud in hot pursuit.

Katsum laughed at the twins as she turned back to the Lord Commander, “Well, I suppose that’s our que to go. Ready?”

He nodded happily, “Lead the way,” He squeezed her hand and moved to whisper in her ear again, “And I promise to make real my teasing later on tonight.‘Tis the least I can do for how fun your reaction was.”

Katsum’s blush darkened before a grin of her own spread across her lip and she let go of his hand to step ahead of him to walk backwards towards the door, “Oh I know. And did I forget to mention?” She bared her teeth in a smile so that he could see a pair of her own fangs, making his eyebrows raise, “I’ll have my own to share with you too.~”

The Miqo’te spun on her heel and pranced through the door, yet her dear husband only needed three long strides to catch up with her and grab her hand again to lace their fingers together, “I see, my kitten. Then I certainly look forward to later.”

“As you should. I know I do.” Katsum giggled as she pressed into his side as they headed for the door of the Rising Stones to join the party before they were missed.

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efrmellifer · 5 years ago

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Remigro

There was a distinct sigh of “home” from all of them, from Y’shtola’s airy but reserved intonation to the Leveilleur twins’ slightly theatrical responses.

Even Etien sighed, though she knew she wasn’t exactly home yet.

Still, she was dutiful as ever, helping Krile, Tataru and everyone with getting everything back in order.

When they all seemed settled, Alisaie leaping over the balcony’s edge to join the fray against a stampede, Alphinaud heading after her, Etien knew it was okay.

When they got back, it would be time for her to go.

Practically as soon as the twins had set foot back on the balcony, she bolted for the Aetheryte.

They all called after her, a chorus that amounted to “Where are you going?”

She stopped, turned to them. “Ishgard. Where else?”

Alisaie laughed, leaning on the rock she had leapt over not long ago. “Of course, you must be burning,” she mumbled, then raised her voice. “Give him a kiss for us!”

“Let us come with you!” Alphinaud called. “I want to see our friends in Ishgard as well,” he explained when Alisaie caught him by the hood.

“They’ll want to be alone,” Alisaie mused. “For a long time, I’d reckon.”

Alphinaud blinked.

“All that learning and you still have no idea what I’m talking about,” she sighed.

Etien was already standing at the Aetheryte by the time recognition dawned on Alphinaud’s features. “Wait, are they going to—it’s the middle of the afternoon!” he sputtered.

Alisaie just laughed. “Someone has to set an example of shirking repressive values.”

There it was, that familiar feeling of comfort when her heels clicked onto the stones. Now she could let out her sigh of home.

She wondered how much time had passed, but dismissed the thought. No more thinking of the past, of the bend and stretch of time. No longer did she have one foot each on two worlds, so there was nothing to worry about.

Taking a deep breath, she started on her habitual path up to Saint Valeroyant’s forum, waving to Gaucelmard as she passed him.

She entered the Congregation as quietly as she could, which meant coaching herself into slowing down before she reached the doors, stopping just outside to take another deep breath before she stepped through the doorway.

There was something in the vein of relief that washed over Lucia’s expression when she saw Etien come in, and Etien responded with a smile and a wave. She debated straying from her course to ask what had gone on, that had her presence greeted like the end of a blizzard. She’d waited this long, what were a few moments more?

But she had been waiting. Lucia would be available for questions some other time.

And now there was time.

She continued toward the door, stopping before the guard. She looked up at him and opened her mouth to speak, ready to be sent on her way, but daring to ask anyway.

“Is the Lord Commander busy?”

“He would have to turn you away himself, and I doubt that he will.” He returned her smile. “Come on, I can let you through.”

She took slow steps down the hall, still relishing the fact that she wasn’t working against the clock anymore.

The guard opened the door, and she peered inside before he spoke.

Aymeric didn’t even look up at the sound of the door, in fact, he didn’t look up until he heard the knight’s voice.

“Lord Commander, a Mistress--”

“Aymeric!” she called, sprinting the length of the office. She was already crawling over his desk by the time he processed enough to get up, so he stayed put, letting her drop herself into his lap.

She arranged herself so she could drape her arms on his shoulders, and kissed his cheek, then the corner of his mouth.

He waved the knight away before Etien made her way to kissing him full on the mouth.

The door shut with a soft thud.

With privacy now assured, Aymeric invested himself fully in properly greeting Etien, lifting her chin until she was at the proper angle for him to claim her lips.

He could feel the cool wetness of tears sliding down her cheeks and hitting his skin, and in truth, he was almost ready to cry himself.

The weight of her in his arms had lifted a weight from his chest, a weight he hadn’t known he was carrying around day by day, from dawn until the final moments before sleep fell over him.

But there was no need to dwell on it now. It was gone, and she was here, arms tight around him, meeting his every kiss with one of her own, matching him for giddiness and hunger alike.

“Etien,” he finally said, quiet as a prayer, barely separating his mouth from hers.

“Yes, Aymeric?”

“Is this for good?”

“It’s for the best,” she replied with a giggle.

Oh, the clever Warrior.

“Yes, we’re all back,” she added softly.

He wanted to utter something of his gratitude, to the divine or otherwise, but instead, he just kissed her. That more than did the job of expressing how happy he was to have her close again.

Aymeric pulled away again, but still not far, breathless as he stated “This isn’t the ideal location, but… I would have you, if you’ll allow me.”

“Oh, would you?” Etien asked, only just loud enough to be heard. Her eyelashes beat against the weight of his hair, falling in his eyes and hers as they stayed close, foreheads pressed.

“Do you know how I ached?” he whispered against her lips. “By myself in this office, in our bedroom, no sound of your breath, no warmth of your skin? The days felt like moons.”

He scooped her up so he could stand, and lowered her to the wood of his desk, kissing her yet more as she let her knees fall apart, her tail curl around him, and her hands sink into his hair.

When they were decent again, and had settled back into the usual routine for when Etien was at the Congregation—settled on Aymeric’s lap, book in one hand and teacup in the other—she piped up with a question.

“Can I ask you something complex? It’s been weighing on my mind for a while and I would appreciate your input on it.”

He hummed. “Please do.”

“Is it… better, do you think, when trying to escape the past, to kill it or simply to run away?”

Aymeric took a breath, released it, then spoke. “Ah. Well, if you only run, something still remains. Whether what remains is a testament to your strength or a mark of weakness, I couldn’t say.”

“And if you kill it?”

“While there is something mighty to such a display… is it not cowardly in other ways?”

“I have no idea.” She sighed, leaning against him. “Would you like to see what I ran from?”

He almost laughed when he realized what she was implying. “It would only be fair; you saw what I killed. Indeed, you did me the service, in fact.”

She blinked. “I did what was asked and required, as the Warrior of Light always does.”

He stroked her cheek softly, observing the tiredness that had washed over her after saying that. “Shall we go now?”

She sat up straight again. “I… suppose? It’s midday now, we could make it to Gridania by sundown, I’d imagine. If we hurried.”

“If we made use of Aetherytes, we could go even faster.”

Etien sighed. “A fair point. So we head for Fallgourd Float. From there, we can go through Alder Springs, I can show you what I wanted to, and then straight for Old Gridania.”

“Lead the way, my dearest,” Aymeric replied with a nod.

Aymeric looked around as soon as they arrived in the Black Shroud, mouth hung slightly open as he took in the trees, the wildlife. Here, there was a constant buzz, unlike the silence that had settled over Coerthas with the thick layer of snow.

Etien started walking, but when she didn’t hear the crunch of his footsteps behind her, stepped back, took his hand, and then sallied forth.

“The Shroud is so beautiful,” he commented as Etien hopped across a stream, same as she had on their honeymoon, turning around and offering a hand to support him as he followed her.

“It is. I never had a want for beautiful surroundings growing up.”

Aymeric sighed. “If only all your life had been that way.”

With a sad smile, she shrugged. “If it had been, I wouldn’t be who I am. For better or worse. A life that has my friends in it, has you in it, is all I would dare to ask for.”

“I still think you ask too little, but I am honored to make the list.”

“See that house in the distance?” she asked when she stopped abruptly. “The one with the white awning?”

“I do,” Aymeric answered, squinting. “There’s a Miqo’te hanging laundry.”

“That would be my sister.”

“You have siblings?” There was a note of incredulity to his voice.

Etien laughed. “I do. Why else would I have latched so tightly to the Leveilleurs? I see those two in the twins.”

“The same as Estinien.”

“The exact same,” she agreed. “Do you want to get closer?”

“Not unless you do. Do you?”

Etien shook her head, so they got back on the path through the wood, heading for Gridania.

“This road is the one I walked when I ran away.”

“With the single change of clothes, your bow, and a book?” Aymeric asked.

“Oh, you remembered!”

“I keep all your letters. I was rereading them when I missed you, for a time. So I may have some of them memorized.”

Etien brought a hand to her heart. “Oh, darling.”

Gridania was the same old place it ever was, which calmed Etien as much as it frustrated her. She kept hoping that things were going to get better, but it seemed as though since life went on, no one saw cause to do anything.

But that wasn’t for her to worry about now. Someday, she might try to reform Gridania. For now, though, she was resting before she was forced to, whether that was by Aymeric or from her own body giving out.

But they had made it to that spot in Gridania, finally, the one Etien had wanted to bring Aymeric to. She wondered if Feo would be proud of her.

Probably, They already were, weren’t they?

In any case, the pair of them had bought some food in the markets, and now they were picnicking on a spot between the Blue Badger Gate and the Carline Canopy.

They’d made good time—the sun had just started to set when they’d finished eating.

They looked out over the water, and Etien sighed.

“I did a lot of thinking, the last little while. When I went where I was told and stayed, like a good little girl. Feo Ul was driven mad, I’m sure, by my mooning. I miss them already. It’s a shame, knowing that I’ll never have all my friends together at once again.”

“You had been thinking?” Aymeric prompted, keeping her focused.

“Oh. Right. Thinking about us, and how I keep having to run off and be away for so long. I still think sometimes about what could have happened in Ala Mhigo. But that was why we did what we did before I left, hmm?” She played with the myriad pendants on her necklace, slipping her finger into the ring again. “But I was thinking about you, about us, a lot on the First. About what our marriage meant.”

Aymeric’s eyes widened, but he tried not to move too much, for fear of dislodging Etien from where she lay and having her never lean against him again, after she said something like that.

He swallowed. “Oh yes?”

She nodded. “Yes. Thinking about how a marriage is a blend of bureaucracy—which we’re both more than familiar with—and legitimizing passions… which I think neither of us is. Mostly I was thinking about coming home to you, rolling the word ‘husband’ around. Rarely was that word used for you when we were on the First. It was always your name or ‘people who miss you,’ for you, Estinien, or both. Feo Ul called you my knight in shining armor once or twice. But… you’re my husband.” She looked up, stretching to kiss the underside of his chin. “My darling Aymeric. So really, I was thinking about how I married you to solidify the promise I made, that I’d always come home. To make it explicitly clear that home is you. Anywhere you go, I’ll go. Anywhere I go, I know where I want to head for when it’s over.”

“Etien,” Aymeric replied softly.

“Actually, it would be hard to give a reason I married you. I wanted to, primarily. I could love you with or without the paperwork, but you offered and I absolutely could not say no. I wanted to be your wife.”

“I wanted you to be my wife.” He cleared his throat. “I still want you to be my wife. I--”

She giggled, nose crinkling and eyeteeth glinting in the setting sun. “I know what you mean.” She was quite for a moment, blinking slowly. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you as well,” he assured her.

She slid down, so her head was in Aymeric’s lap, taking his hand and draping his arm across her stomach. “Let’s not do that again for a good long time, all right?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” he assured her.

They spent the night at the Roost, deeming it too late to go running through the Shroud again.

So they settled into the soft feather bed, folding into each other a little more tightly than they had to at home.

But it was cozy. Hells, Etien had missed Aymeric enough that crawling into his clothing and never leaving sounded ideal.

In the wee hours of the morning, she happened to roll just a little too far away, and found herself getting tugged back to him.

His voice was still thick with sleep when he sighed out a desperate “stay.”

She relaxed into his arms. “I’m staying.”

#Aytien #who wants a long reunion ficccc?#fic

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illegiblewords · 6 years ago

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Illegible FFXIV Story Status - UPDATED

I actually have a few stories finished, going, or in the wings at the moment for FFXIV! And people seem to like them which is very exciting and cool since it’s been a while since I was in an active fandom like this!

Normally I don’t do this kind of post but frankly I know what it’s like as a reader to be in that fidgety “WHEN ARE YOU DOING X” state haha, and I want to be considerate of that.

So I’m going to actually make a progress list this time. Also just a collection of stuff in case people are curious.

COMPLETE

From Umbra: This is the backstory for my main Warrior of Light, Cenric Asher. I essentially did a deep dive into lore for Thanalan, Ul’dah, and Nald’Thal because I love all of them to pieces and wanted to combine them to create a character who truly felt shaped by the environment. Cenric is probably delusional and thinks he’s the son of a god but most likely just has some Duskwight lineage and really bad luck.

Posturing: First story in a series of Emet-Selch/Female!Warrior of Light stories called Brief Our Moments, I literally wrote this as a personal challenge to see if I could do something romantic with an ambiguous WoL. It’s fluffy and has some humor. Warrior of Light is unnamed and only confirmed elezen so technically people can imagine their own Warrior if they feel like it. If you stop at this point in the series, The Dying Gasp has a kind of sweet undertone because the Warrior and Emet-Selch both get shown as sharing small kindnesses when they can get away with it.

Stillborn: Second story in a series of Emet-Selch/Female!Warrior of Light stories called Brief Our Moments, this is a continuation of my personal shipping challenge where I more or less went “okay but what would it take to get a kiss scene while being canon-compliant?” and discovered that the answer was angst. Can technically be read without Posturing but I wrote it with that story in-mind. Same deal on ambiguous Warrior of Light. If you stop at this point in the series The Dying Gasp is still bittersweet as per canon.

The Immortal Wound: Third story in a series of Emet-Selch/Female!Warrior of Light stories called Brief Our Moments, this the third part of my personal shipping challenge where I was all “m’kay so I know the price of a kiss what would it take to get a sex scene” and the answer was “blood sacrifice”. Very very angsty but also very very romance-y. Same deal as the previous two fics, you can technically read it all alone but I wrote it as a continuation. You can pretty much bypass The Dying Gasp with this one.

Stalemate: ANOTHER PERSONAL CHALLENGE SHIPFIC! I am a simple and easily distracted writer who occasionally needs to pause in outlining to tell more stories. This came into being for two reasons. 1) I saw someone say they wanted Warrior/Lahabrea shipfic and that’s something I’m perfectly happy to deliver 2) I saw another person lament the lack of M/M shipfics involving the Warrior of Light. I basically treat all the Ascians as bisexual anyway, so decided for Lahabrea I’d go with M/M. This is not a direct sequel to Eclipse but it is very much a spiritual successor in the sense that Eclipse can lend some context to the state Lahabrea is in here. Premise is that it’s not long after Haurchefant’s death and the Warrior of Light is both grieving and furious. Lahabrea, having not faced him since the Praetorium, takes advantage of this and antagonizes Hydaelyn’s chosen. Angst/Romance here, Warrior is unnamed but a midlander Dark Knight.

Appetite: I made a Vauthry fic for the 30 day prompt challenge. This was for “voracious” and it has cannibalism! Straight up horror story, I went stylistically trippy and played off some fun theories I saw with certain family dynamics.

Snuff: Another 30 day prompt challenge story, this one is basically a humor study on Lahabrea while he was infiltrating the Scions in Thancred’s body. He needs to go to bed. Tataru tries to tell him this and he ignores her. No one ignores Tataru and gets away with it.

Parched: And another 30 day prompt challenge fic, focusing on the Unsundered but mainly Elidibus. Humor, friendship, and bittersweetness here, basically none of them are functional people but the way Elidibus is non-functional is more subtle than the other two. Emet-Selch and Lahabrea conspire to get him smashed as a way to help with this. Pianos are involved.

Eclipse: Technically was also a 30 day prompt challenge fic. This one is from Nabriales’ point of view for the most part and explores his resentment and jealousy of the Unsundered as well as his specific animosity toward Lahabrea. It does not end well for Lahabrea. Angst and gen.

IN PROGRESS

Memento Mori: This is not online but I mentioned that I would be doing a sequel to The Immortal Wound and this is it! It is going to be very very big and AU and frankly the way I’m setting it up theoretically will allow me to adapt and keep weaving elements in as patch cycles progress. I have a lot of it mapped out already and did start the first chapter but I want to adjust certain bits in light of patch 5.1. I have some idea how I want it to end, but how will I get there? No idea. At this point I am caving and will be explicitly using my Warrior of Light Nivienne Leclair because 1) it is really difficult to keep he said/she said sounding clear and interesting even in shorter stories, let alone the monster this is bound to be 2) I have some fun references I want to make to the stories of Merlin and Nimue 3) at a certain point in a relationship you need to share backstories in explicit detail lol. So the last part (I think) for Brief Our Moments touches on the value of life as something fleeting and fragile.

Somnus: Elidibus-centric, this is essentially me slamming my hands on the table in a figurative sense and going “LET ME TELL YOU MY FEELINGS ABOUT DAD!ELIDIBUS.” It examines Elidibus’ dynamic with Unukalhai as well as the other two Unsundered, does a lot of backstory speculation, and explores difficulties all three of the Unsundered have with sleeping after the Terminus event. Technically Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, and kind of Family I guess? Worth noting that I’ve edited the bit that’s up since first posting in accordance with further information on canon. It’s probably AU anyway but oh well. I know more or less all the steps in this story, just have a bit of adjusting to account for my newer character interpretations. Plan to alternate it with Memento Mori.

Untitled Fem!WoL/Emet-Selch Shipfic Oneshot #1: Currently in cooldown mode from a medium-sized story, I put out requests for shipfic clichés as a fun scenario and got a request for Fem!WoL/Emet-Selch courtesy of @nipuni! I don’t know that I can do all of them given I wanna pop back to Memento Mori but two I think I can pull off haha.

Untitled Fem!WoL/Emet-Selch Shipfic Oneshot #2: Same deal as above lol, idk that I can do all of the prompts but two is pretty fair I think so gonna hit two!

Untitled Male!WoL/Lahabrea Shipfic Oneshot Sequel: This is an uncertain timing thing for me, basically I am a sucker for more optimistic endings when I can take them. If I can pull off a moderately small and optional goodish-end with the Dark Knight WoL from Stalemate, I don’t mind at all. And I do know how I’d do it. In case you haven’t noticed my impulse control is terrible and I have too many ideas for things.

Untitled Lahabrea/Emet-Selch Oneshot: Lmao this is literally “challenge accepted” for @strangefellows on an unambiguous, non-love triangle shipfic. Again, my impulse control is terrible. But I can totally do a oneshot for them.

Dead Language: Emet-Selch focused but follows the three Unsundered in the immediate aftermath of Terminus. I started this pretty early after Shadowbringers came out. At the time I knew where it was going, now I don’t and I might want to make a bunch of edits or even redo it depending. I still like bits of it, like the idea of Lahabrea obsessively reviewing his notes before summoning Zodiark so he doesn’t have to think about what’s going on around him.

With Good Intentions: A friendship fic, I decided to look at how Cenric specifically would relate to Emet-Selch because it stood out in an interesting way to me. It mostly has a bit of banter but I do have a planned direction and ending in mind that plays off the idea of conditional trust. Continues an idea I have with Cenric that he gets closest to people who treat him like he’s just a person, versus Warrior of Light.

Basically a good chunk of what I do is me going challenge accepted though lol. I honestly really love experimenting, and the whole “take X prompt and see what you can pull off” premise too. Right now I think I need to focus on what’s on my plate, but in-general I’m pretty happy to do requests!

#final fantasy xiv #final fantasy 14 #Shadowbringers #ffxiv #ff14 #also this is part of why i am so slow with reading lol #i am working and responsibilities and vidja games and writing a bunch #and i have the attention span of a goldfish

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fistsoflightning · 5 years ago

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and there’s no place like home for the holidays

merry chrimma, @to-the-voiceless! i’m your secret santa this year for @aetherstitch‘s exchange, and i heard you wanted some mushy starlight fic? :3

(i am... late. sorry. aymeric refused to finish in time and that’s when i realized my arrogance in believing i could pull this off to a degree i liked b4 christmas evening...)

words: 3238

“Ser,” Lucia says among the thick silence of the Borel manor kitchen. “Perhaps this is a bit… excessive?”

Aymeric, seated in front of a good amount of books detailing Doman culture for gifts and holidays, rests his head in his weary hands and sighs. Lucia nudges his cup of tea towards him before leaning back, continuing her light reading as he slowly accepts the unsweetened tea. She may be right, but then how long would it take to come up with a new idea for a present?

“Your time may be better spent perusing the Jeweled Crozier, Ser. Finding something Doman in nature at this time of year may be harder than you think without one of the Warriors to retrieve it for you.” Lucia says as she flips another page in her book. Something about the mishaps of two Gridanian children as they search for the meaning of Starlight or whatnot. According to Lucia, Hilda had recommended the tale after it made its rounds through the Temple Knights.

“‘Tis true, but I feel something nostalgic would be more welcome than a trinket so easily found.” Aymeric squints at some detailed drawing in the book directly beneath his face, noting the plum trees and shallow lakes. What a breathtaking sight. “Perhaps I could call upon Madame Tataru’s connections…”

Lucia, for all her patience, scoffs at his latest idea, sliding a bookmark in-between pages and setting her book on the counter. Aymeric looks up in the corners of his eyes to see her endearingly irritated, as Lumelle once had called it.

“I had also thought Lady Hanami would appreciate most anything you’d choose just for her. A gift need not be perfect to give someone joy, and I fail to think a gift less than a reminder of home would displease her.” Lucia says as Aymeric lifts his head from his hands, eyes brightening up at the small amount of hope Lucia has given him; really, he shouldn’t have been so pessimistic in the first place.

“I… suppose. Mayhaps I overthought this time.” Aymeric sheepishly looks around at the number of books that he’s taken from the Scions’ library to further his own research. Hopefully a delivery moogle will be willing to take these back to Tataru.

“As you do. There is no shame in wanting to give someone you love the best, but.” Lucia taps the corners of her eyes while looking straight at Aymeric. “That is also what brings stress during Starlight for most.”

As the clock in Aymeric’s kitchen strikes four in the afternoon, Lucia and he laugh at the idea of “beautiful” Aymeric gaining wrinkles from stress despite all the paperwork awaiting him in the Congregation office, and then immediately shoot to their feet, realizing it is four and they are expected back at the Congregation for another meeting in no later than five minutes.

Aymeric has time to decide on a present to give. He will be fine.

It is a good two weeks or so of dedicated paperwork filing and controlling the eager lords in debate until Aymeric has the chance to continue looking for the perfect gift to give Hanami. He had hoped to find more time between his duties as Speaker and Lord Commander with Handeloup and Lucia’s wonderful assistance, but the newer lords of the minor Houses are much too determined for shortened gatherings, or lengthened vacations. The fact that the House of Lords was even on winter break now was owned to House Fortemps and Haillenarte finally putting down their foot and stopping the younger lords from continuing to throw rhetoric like bricks at Aymeric.

“Holiday shopping at the last moment, my lord? I thought you more prepared.” Hilda sneaks around the yellow canvas of the floral stand as Aymeric tiredly looks at a few colorful gladiolus. Would it be to Hanami’s tastes if he were to get flowers? Or would that be in poor taste of her name?

“Our House of Lords has finally taken winter break, and none too soon. I haven’t the time between the moments until now to truly look around.” Aymeric says without looking to meet ruby red eyes, Hilda soon joining him at admiring the floral displays of some poor merchant who’d have the misfortune to walk away at the moment they come around. Shame; Aymeric very much would have preferred the help of a professional.

After a few more moments of dizzying himself with cotton candy pinks and blizzard ice blues, Hilda slowly takes his arm and tugs him away from the flowers and towards rich and warm smells. For a small machinist lady, she is rather strong…

“Wouldn’t hurt to have a bite, eh? Might help you think, with that cookbook of a brain you’ve got!” Hilda points out, clearly remembering when he made rounds in the Brume with holiday cookies from last week. “Heard Lord Francel fancies the new pineapple fritters Miss Norlaise has got, if you’re interested.”

The smell of sweet pineapples is surely tempting as they approach Madame Norlaise’s stall, a small crowd of children gathering round for warm cookies or small cakes to bring home and devour. Aymeric steps behind a small group of three excited children as they receive their box of candied fruits, waiting patiently as they cry a jumbled ‘thank you!’ to Madame Norlaise just before leaving. Hilda laughs as she watches them scrabble a little, all wanting part of the sweets.

“Good day, Ser! Something warm catch your fancy?” Norlaise lifts up a jar of candied berries as he takes a second glance at her small display. “Mayhaps a gift box for a beloved?”

Aymeric chuckles as he takes a sack of gil from his pocket. “Something warm, aye. A serving of pineapple fritters, if you would.”

He places down enough money for two when he finally counts out the gil, and Norlaise raises an eyebrow before Aymeric tilts his head slightly to where Hilda stands, still watching as some of the children come back around in caroling outfits. She nods as she turns to get to work, leaving Aymeric to enjoy the children singing and Hilda clapping as they finish. Perhaps he could take Hanami to listen to the Ishgardian choir in the Vault; ah, but her horn…

Madame Norlaise sets down two small boxes of fritters in front of him, smelling heavenly and adorned with ribbons to look like twinkleboxes, ready to be unwrapped. “Your order, Ser. Do have a wonderful day, and happy Starlight!”

Aymeric nods, taking his purchase over to Hilda and placing one of the two boxes into her hands. Her eyes grow wide, lighting up quite like fireflies as she eagerly unwraps the steaming fritters.

With that, Aymeric has the pleasure of Hilda’s continued company as he goes to the jeweler’s stall (all things Hanami could easily outdo with her own goldsmithing skills), then to the armorer’s (“Who buys their partner armor for Starlight, ser?”), and then, after all else fails, back to the baker’s stall as Hilda once again reminds him that he could bake something.

“Her disdain for sweets prevents me from doing much else than bread,” Aymeric rambles as he racks his brain for something that might well work as a present. Bread just seems… half-hearted to him, with how many times he’s made it with her watching patiently behind. “A challenge of my skills may very well be in order.”

“S’not that hard to make a sweet treat sour, my lord.” Hilda says with part of a fritter still in her mouth, pointing at the display that Norlaise has across from them. Specifically, she points at a lemon and rolanberry pie, steaming from its stand and decorated with bright white whipped cream. “Lucia said the pie drew a shocking similarity to lemonade; doesn’t seem all that hard either. If you fancy a challenge after the verbal whipping some of the other highborns gave you, I’d say you’ve come to like punishing yourself.”

Aymeric sighs, shaking his head as Hilda laughs at his misery; she’d seen the younger of the lords chase him through Foundation to the Pillars in an attempt to finish their points despite two of the older lords telling them off already. He’d listened to them, certainly, and then forgotten them almost completely after getting home to a good book and Mandragora.

As he returns to flipping through mental baking ideas, Hilda gives him a small wave and wanders off, clearly intent to return to her city guard duties with her remaining fritters. He stays against the wall opposite of Madame Norlaise’s stand with his own fritters much like a gargoyle for a good bell as he thinks, rethinks, and ruffles his hair. The smells are all melting together in his head, and imagining something not so sugary sweet as the snow mounds some of the children walk past with is starting to become difficult, so Aymeric, tired and still presentless, walks home in thick, fluffy snow.

He has one last day to decide on what to give her. He will be fine.

The very next morning Aymeric realizes he does not, in fact, have a full day to figure it out.

He goes on a morning trip to the Jeweled Crozier to grab a bite—his steward is taking the day off for family—and to perhaps peruse the markets in needless worry for something that might be a better present to give, and as with the last few days, he leaves the Crozier with naught but groceries and a basket of oranges—he was so caught up in finding a gift before the day was done that he bought citrus instead of cranberries. No matter; Hanami had seemed to like the last set of oranges he’d left out in the kitchen, so perhaps she’d scoff these down with the same fervor.

And then Aymeric runs into the captor of his thoughts in the aetheryte plaza when running a small errand to the Temple Knights stationed at Saint Reinette Forum, accompanied by two who appeared to be—from where he stood about thirty yalms away—Lunya and Zaya.

The gala wasn’t until late that evening, and Aymeric was under the impression that the three of them would not be arriving until closer to four in the afternoon! Had he heard Hanami wrong all those weeks ago?

Lunya points Aymeric out to the other two Warriors as he remains in a standstill, debating whether or not to run in order to buy himself more time to think, but Hanami runs over much too quickly with her hands keeping a dress garment cover from flying off into the light snow. From under the plastic cover, Aymeric swears he’d caught a glimpse of silken pink fabric, but with how Hanami’s sworn off the color pink from here on out, he might simply have mistaken a bit of red for pink.

“You are out early.” Hanami says, coldfire eyes blazing bright and pinched at the corners; perhaps she was more tired than she’d prefer to show? “Do you still have work to do? Is that kid from House Dzmael stretching your meetings again?”

“Nay, we’ve already entered our winter break.” Aymeric says, waving politely at Zaya and Lunya as they make to leave through teleporting behind Hanami. “Albeit later than usual. Would you like to accompany me home, or do you have other plans for right now?”

Hanami shakes her head, falling in step with him as he walks casually on the path back home. At his request, she starts to pour out a few more of her tales from the First, filling in the empty air as light snow sticks to his hair and gloves. Their footsteps would easily trail a while back, but he hopes that by tonight the squall will finally settle in and drape Ishgard in a smooth white in time for the gala. The sparkling snow would make for a lovely sight to look out upon.

As they approach Aymeric’s doorway, Hanami goes to hang her dress (?) off of his pauldrons—he doesn’t mind much, with how often he hangs things there himself—and opens up the door for him, clearly taking note of the ridiculous number of bags he’s brought home. Hanami doesn’t seem to notice the large basket of oranges he carries through, not attempting to grab for one of the sweet fruits as he walks into the kitchen to set everything down.

“My sunrise,” Aymeric calls out, noticing she’s been standing in the doorway the whole time he’s been putting away some of the foodstuffs before he forgets. “Have you come in? The wind is carrying to the kitchen.”

A small grumble follows the door slamming shut, then clanking footsteps as Hanami’s pauldrons tap heavily on the wooden floor of the house. She comes to the kitchen, where Aymeric has set down a small plate of snacks meant for later, and picks up a few crackers before eagerly shoving them into her mouth.

“S’rry. It is cold here now.” Hanami crunches slowly through the crackers as Aymeric turns, giving her a soft smile. He does not mind much, thanks to growing up here; he was a bit more worried that Hanami had simply collapsed from the headache she seems to have.

“‘Tis alright, my light. Would you like to relocate your snacking to the fireplace?” He gestures to the living room farther in, where the fire has been crackling since he woke this morning. Hanami quickly takes the small platter and moves to the warmer lands of his couch as he finishes up with his groceries. The oranges remain on the table, but that is quickly reconsidered when Aymeric notices that he bought sour oranges and not the small, sweet ones that Hanami eats up like candy. What can he do with these now? It’s not as if he planned to bake anything with this many oranges…

He sets the oranges by the other baking ingredients, resolving to solve that dilemma later.

When Aymeric enters his living room, he is greeted by the sight of Hanami,haphazardly spread out on his couch under blankets and pillows. Adorably so, in his opinion, but likely to soak in all the precious warmth she’d lost out in the Ishgardian winter; snow is not kind to those with lizard-like features, as the Scions had remarked about their scaled friends. With her sleeping like a log, however, he has no place to sit down with her, so he simply returns to the kitchen with the plate of crumbs Hanami has left in her wake.

“Now, what to do with you…” Aymeric goes back to face the basket of oranges once again, sighing as he realizes it has barely been five minutes since he left them here. He feels much too restless for someone supposed to be on break; his hands crave something to fiddle with, so he picks up one of the oranges, tossing it around in his hands.

And he still has the dilemma of Hanami’s gift and retrieving it before the gala; he can’t just very well get up and leave, either, with Hanami sleeping so peacefully here. Leaving her seems like a rather rude thing to do, so he’s left with what’s in the manor.

Not books; that is a cruel and unusual punishment, to gift someone Ishgardian print books when they can barely read the Ishgardian alphabet out loud. In fact, much of what he has would seem… odd. Hilda’s remarks at his odd shopping habits from yesterday come back to haunt him, except this time about his belongings; Why books that are old enough to be her grandparents? Really now, a pair of slippers? Have you truly lost it?

Perhaps Hilda was not so rude, but the mere thought is enough to give him a laugh as he scans over his baking books, crammed into a shelf on the corner of his kitchen.

Then Aymeric catches the remnants of his box of fritters from the other day, and he has an idea of what to do in the bells between Hanami’s eventual awakening and his abundance of energy. The crust would take a bit of work, and the toppings would have to be sweetened, in all honesty, but he has time. It is almost ten in the morning; the pie should be done by half past three if he starts now.

Aymeric finds himself going much faster than he had intended, and a good bit messier than he’d prefer; the oranges take a while to open, and his hands slip with the knife on the butter, but he gets through it. Certainly a challenge, though not in the way he’d imagined. For him to have more trouble keeping his nerve while making a treat for a dear one than in the middle of four different High Houses all trying to get him to approve of their idea; the lords would have made fun of him!

At some point that Aymeric doesn’t realize, Hanami wakes up and shuffles her sleepy self over to the chair set by the countertop. In his flitting about the kitchen in a rush to get the pie in the oven, he barely notices her, not even when he has to look for his whisk and she hands it right to him. A mumbled ‘thanks’ slips from his mouth, but otherwise he makes no other notice of her.

That is, until he finally gets the pie in the oven. The moment the oven starts to heat up and bake the sweet, Aymeric finds the eyes staring at him more noticeable than before.

“Forgive me, my sunrise.” Aymeric sighs out, brushing off some flour before leaning on the counter to look Hanami in the eyes. “I hardly noticed you there. Have you been watching for a long time now?”

“Not too long. Your work was much more entertaining than sleep was, though.” Hanami smiles sleepily as the smell of oranges starts to bake into the air. “Why the pie? Was there not enough sweets for the gala already?”

Aymeric stiffens a bit, despite the complaints of his already tired back. “That was… a gift.”

“Oh? A present?”

“Yes; my schedule was… packed this year, and I haven’t the time anymore to buy something, so a handmade gift will have to do.”

“Is it for Lucia? Oh, or perhaps for House Fortemps?”

Aymeric winces at the shortsightedness of his thoughts. He’d forgotten theirs, as well; a batch of cookies in the next few days ought to do it, though. They were not the cranky elders of the less-than-friendly houses, and he knew both parties personally; he can apologize without seeming rude.

“‘Tis a gift… for you, my sunrise.” Aymeric sheepishly admits, the orange smell wafting around as he speaks. “I had a lack of ideas, and when you’d come home early, I panicked quite a bit. The oranges were a saving grace, I must admit; perhaps I would have made more bread without them.”

Hanami laughs, not daring to leave him in awkward yet surprised silence. “You were stuck in your head, hm? Perhaps this will help you learn. The pie, knowing you, will be perfect. Thank you.”

“I suppose, yes. Happy Starlight, my sunrise.”

And when the pie finished baking, the smell of oranges and rolanberries was not sweeter than the moments shared waiting at the counter for the telltale ‘ding’ of the oven.

#ffxiv #hanami #aymeric de borel #sour pie for hanami! sour pie for hanami??? my baking expertise does not go as far as sour pies so i tried ;-;#im not quite sure how far her distaste for sweets expands so i tried one of the more sour things i'm interested in making #i could have titled this as 'aymeric and the great present panic'#but i was listening to christmas music for brainstorming so lyric title!#i read through quite literally all of cyan's ffxivwrite and other fic pieces and i gotta say ive been holding back on myself #all of it was amazing #and i wish i read it sooner? i just dont have time ;-;#surprisingly the screenshot i used is where the lore book says borel manor is since i forgot #i do hope you like this cyan!!!! aymeric is astoundingly difficult pbkqboieo #*shakes aymeric by his torso since im like 4'11"* stop being such a fool and decide #my writing #best of elie

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sweetlittlehawke · 6 years ago

Text

Disrespect

Character death and angst abound. Sty does not take well to his grief being brushed over after his love died- particularly in a verse where he doesn’t have other PCs, namely Nijoh’ir, to support him. AKA the vault fucked him up and sent him straight into being a Dark Knight

His time at Haurchefant's grave is meant to be private... but as it was before the man was killed Alphinaud is not one to give him time alone with Haurchefant. The young Elezen came along, Tataru beside him holding white lilies. Styliani understands he means well, leaving flowers for the departed, but can he not just have some time alone? Can he not be left to mourn? Don't they see how damaged he is?

Alphinaud and Tataru talk for a minute, about their hope for a future. Its not a bad conversation, but it's hardly one Styliani wishes to take part of. It's far too hopeful. Then Tataru says something about rebuilding the Scions. He can't argue with the idea, having their allies back would be a great help. But her starting point irks him. She stands there, arms in the air as she cheers, "That means we'll need more money!" She acts as though she's not standing on a man's grave.

His blood boils as he turns to her, a deep scowl on his face as he looks down at the woman. "Don't fucking talk like that."

Tataru drops her arms, giving him a quizzical look. It is Alphinaud who speaks though, "Styliani we're just being practical. To rebuild an organiz-"

Fists clench at his side as he tries to reel himself in. "Practical? Like the Braves were practical? As though a child is capable of leading an army? What do you know of practicality? You're just trying to fix your own childish mistakes. Mistakes that cost lives," he seethes. His breath is heavy and every muscle in him is tense. One wrong word and he snaps.

There's no need to hold back. Let yourself go Styliani...

Come back to me.

Tataru cuts in, "Hey! We all make mistakes- even you Styliani!"

In a flash Styliani is rushing forward, grabbing Tataru by the collar and lifting her up. She's so small, so frail, all she can do is flail and reach for Alphinaud. Cries for help fall from her lips, and Alphinaud tries to help, but to no avail. With how light the lalafell is Styliani can easily hold her in one hand and draw his sword to keep Alphinaud back with the other. The Elezen raises his hands in surrender, knowing his approach would only risk harm to himself or Tataru. Styliani turns his attention back to Tataru, "My only mistake was listening to you two. Always begging me to fight for you. I'm nothing more than a weapon to you."

Though his eyes remained on Tataru, Alphinaud felt like they were directed at him. He lead the Scions almost more than Minfilia, and he created the Crystal Braves. It was his fault that they lost so much... It was only because of Styliani and Haurchefant that he found hope again. Now that hope lies shattered at his feet. Alphinaud looked at the shield that lay across the gravestone, "Styliani I am sorry. We did not mean to make you feel like a tool. I truly believed you would make a good Scion, and you have."

Styliani all but throws Tataru to the ground. The four fulms to the snow covered ground don't hurt her, but she certainly isn't happy with the treatment. Styliani turns towards Alphinaud, walking slowly forward. To avoid the blade aimed at his chest Alphinaud steps back immediately, edging closer to the edge of the cliff until he's just ilms away. The glare in Styliani's gaze is not one he's used to, and certainly not one he ever imagined would be aimed at him. The miqo'te growls quietly when Alphinaud stops moving, "What you meant doesn't matter. You've begged me for everything, and you never consider how I feel." It feels like a childish argument, worrying about feelings.

Give in Styliani. Rid yourself of this child's games.

Time seems to stop as he listens to the voice. Styliani knows it. He once knew it as Fray, but no longer is it Fray. It has no need for the mask of a dead man, just as Styliani has no need for this would be army commander.

I told you I would wait. All you need to do is ask. Anguish says, a taunting tone to its voice.

It's a simple choice. All it takes is a nod, and Anguish reigns over Styliani. So he nods, eyes closing as he let's Anguish out. He feels the darkness cover his eyes, seep through his limbs. His blood runs cold as the grip on his sword shifts, digging the point a little closer to Alphinaud's chest.

When his eyes open they focus in on Alphinaud, on where the blade meets his chest. Anguish grins, a sickeningly cruel expression on Styliani's face. Alphinaud opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off when the blade on his chest plunges forward, burying itself in his heart. Tataru screams behind Anguish, trudging through the snow to get to Alphinaud. Without a glance her direction Anguish pulls the blade out of Alphinaud's chest and buries it in the snow beside Haurchefant's gravestone. The rapier is a good sword for Styliani, but Anguish needs something heartier. Fray's sword really did feel much better in hand.

Without another word he leaves, sword in the snow, and Tataru trying to tend to a hopeless cause. The child would bleed out far too soon to receive help.

Now its Styliani's voice that is internal, Please forgive me Haurchefant... I don't believe I'm the hero deserving of your smile.

#styliani leo'ke #ffxiv #alphinaud leveilleur #tataru taru #character death #hw spoilers #Heavensward spoilers #drk spoilers #dark knight spoilers

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zuraoftheblack · 6 years ago

Text

Devoid

My eyes opened, gaze slowly focusing amidst the shock and confusion. Shards of glass, fractured stone and fragments of swiftly evaporating aether were scattered across the unstable ground all around me. The gate was closed, broken... but despite my wounds, I could only think of Lua. She had been here... where was she? I attempted to stand, only to fall before getting even to my knees, my face roughly returning to the solid ground. An inexorable tide of exhaustion weighed upon me as though a mountain was upon my back. I couldn't even stand... My silent pleas were finally answered after several excruciating minutes of uncertainty as I felt myself being picked up by another. I knew her hands, and I knew her warmth. It was Lua, and I didn't have to see her to know. Even before she had fully lifted me into her arms, I had succumbed to the fatigue, going limp and losing consciousness... 《Previously》

"...at the Crystal Tower..." "...way to the First..." "...throw wide the gates..." The conversation was still fresh in the minds of Lua and I as we compared all we had just experienced since our collective fall in the battle against Zenos. While we shared many dear embraces and expressed much relief at each other's wellbeing, a tension ran beneath the surface. It didn't take words to express that we both felt that our fight was cut short; our victory not yet complete, not while an Ascian still walked in the crown prince's body. Thus when our next and only lead was the man with the crystal arm, we dove headlong into research as soon as we left the Rising Stones. Already, we possessed the choicest morsels of knowledge from the Gubal Library in our home- something we both helped with- and we set to work accumulating what we knew. Through the archives we tore, until finally we discovered what we had been searching for. In a personal record of our travels, Lua found where she had met with Minfilia, who was taken by Hydaelyn at the time. The journal reminded us of the worlds outside our own, of the thirteen surrounding the Source- the star in which we resided. In the ensuing discussion about the potential to cross over between worlds, I suddenly remembered an endeavor that I had looked into many moons past, and dug up the dusty scroll upon which I had written my findings. I had never put it into practice due to a substantial risk and no definite success, but suddenly it became our best bet. Tataru and the remaining Scions may be doing their best to discover what kind of beacon may be around the Crystal Tower, but Lua and I would not simply sit idle. We would make our own gate. It's difficult to recall how it all started to go wrong... At first, everything was just as we had planned. By combining Allagan aetherology with Sharlayan astromancy, we were able to pinpoint this "First World" we had heard of. With the combined disciplines we could search not only across that which exists as we can see it, but also across a more subtle dimension between which all things exist. For lack of a better term, I call this "the gap." I know not whether this truly exists or if it's simply the empty expanse across the cosmos- indeed, from Omega, we learned it was possible to physically traverse the beyond from one star to another. Either way, we located a world of similar size and dimension to our own, and with uncanny swiftness as well. We may not have found the beacon proper, but it could very well have pointed us in the right direction.

Soon, it came time to test our discovery. Using my previously written methods, we took control of the teleportation gate at the broken Eight Sentinels that overlooked the Crystal Tower. Some engineers of the Ironworks who were far more adept at Allagan technology were happy to lend us a hand with the technical details. With a massive amount of aether in the crystallized landscape around us, we began to override the original destination of the Labyrinth and set a new course to the First.

Immediately, the gate began to shift and fluctuate, the Ironworks’ devices sparking and buckling under the strain. Lua dashed to our helpers’ side, leading them away and ensuring that none of them would come to harm while I ran to the devices. If anything was going to explode, I would do my best to keep the damage minimal and away from those who couldn’t easily defend themselves. As I checked the equipment, a blast of blinding, debilitating light overwhelmed my senses and sent me reeling back. The gate had opened. No words can describe the sensation that flowed over us as light flooded from the gate. It was so intense as akin to staring into the sun, yet it felt... cold. Indifferent. Emotionless.

Then, as I struggled to see, a creature emerged from the gate. Shrouded by blinding light as it was, I couldn't make out many details, and those that I could were terrible and unnatural, beady black eyes that looked at me from a curved, inhuman frame that seemed not to follow the limits of nature. From its head dangled writhing tentacles that were uneven in shape and number, and two gangly, emaciated arms clawed at the stone ground in stark contrast to its smooth and elongated body. If there were other details, they were lost to me in the light. Immediately, I moved to defend myself, harnessing my dark arts and giving way to my darkside. It wasn't until later that I realized the creature struck me in that instant in a way I could not see. The familiar bursts of pale static and swirling red lights burst from my form in a display of dark power... only to vanish but a moment later. Try as I might, I could not harness even the smallest shadow to fight back. The arts I wove did not react, and the sword suddenly felt heavy and unwieldy in my hands, forcing me to let it drop, scraping against the ground as I struggled to lift it with my menial physical strength. I was weak, and I called out to my darkside for answers. There was no response. So much had happened to me so fast, the attack was coming for me before I noticed it. I looked up, a weaponized beam of light heading straight for me. Stripped of my power and kneeling, I was to be erased then and there. I lowered my head, having no time nor energy to do anything else. I closed my eyes, and darkness enveloped me. ...and then I opened them to see the bringer of that darkness standing before me, shadows blocking out the light and bringing to me a distinct sense of comfort... like warm blankets and hot cocoa. Lua stood between me and the pale creature of light, her darkness peeling away and returning to her, shreds of red swirling in sync to a deep cadence within her. Even while I could not see her face, firmly pointed towards our enemy as it was, I could imagine it well. Teeth gritted, eyes ablaze, her razor-sharp gaze cutting deeper than the blade in her hand. To see her- no, to *feel* her drinking so deeply of the dark and brimming with an untamed force in my defense was enough to distract me from all the woes of the moment. But only for a moment. Lua launched herself towards the fiend, her blade wreaking havoc on the ground as the creature twisted and dodged in impossible ways. It fixed its gaze upon her, perhaps seeking to strip her of her power in the same way it had done to me but received only a fist to the face for its trouble. Darkness followed through with her blow, passing over the creature, causing it to writhe like a beheaded serpent in pain. Lua struck it again, this time with her blade, managing to slice off a handful of the tentacles from its face. As I watched the battle unfold, I pulled myself to my feet and limped over to a crate of supplies, keeping both eyes on Lua and the creature. Digging into the crate, I quickly withdrew a rough crystal to use as a focus; not an ideal one, but I had no desire to prolong the conflict for the sake of a more perfect tool. If I could just destroy the machines holding open the gate, it would close and hopefully kill the fiend in the process.

I held the crystal aloft and shot a quick burst of lightning towards the gate mechanism. I gasped in surprise as the blast left my hand... and an overwhelming pain cascaded from my extremities to my core. It felt as though I were consumed by a terrible fire for only a second, only for it to jarringly subside into a cold numbness. I was utterly bereft of strength. I couldn't so much as break my fall as my body went limp and my vision blurred. I heard sparks flying mixed with otherworldly screams, catching only the most distant sound of Lua's voice as I toppled over, passing out before I hit the ground. ... I don't remember anything that happened for a few days, but I'm told that I was bedridden and rarely conscious. As I awoke, the numbness was still pervasive. The first thing I saw was Lua looking back at me, tired and teary-eyed, and I was pulled into a careful embrace. As I settled in and she helped me get comfortable, she told me of all that had happened. My plan had worked, the gate beginning to close after losing a vital component and dealing significant damage to the creature. However, it managed to escape back to its own world before the gate collapsed entirely. The gate itself suffered significant damage, but when I wasn't waking up, she concentrated only on keeping me safe. Once home, Lua used some connections in Gridania to get the services of a Padjal when her own healing bore little fruit. What they sensed confirmed Lua's fears, and she took a moment to steel herself before giving me the verdict. Where there was once an inexhaustible fount of aether within me, nary a trace remained. The very source of my strength, of my black magic and dark arts both, was stolen in an instant. That alone was enough to force the breath out of me and drop the blade from my hands, but it was when I cast the bolt that I truly endangered myself. With no aether left, the magic I wove drew upon the closest thing it could find- my very essence. Long ago, I had overexerted myself in a similar way; a haphazard cast had begun to affect me and the color that drained from my hair was symbolic of my fate. This time I had come close to exhausting every last onze of my being- or more accurately, my soul. Looking in the mirror, I'm almost unrecognizable, even to myself. My hair is completely white, drained of color as I was nearly drained of life. Even my eyes are colorless, vacant as a blind man's.

... Given time and rest, I will slowly recover, but the well of aether I had possessed for so long is gone, and with it, any hope of spellcasting; but even more than that, the way that I function must change. I used my aether to get from place to place, to pull back a bow, to lift a sword. As an individual I'm surviving, but as a Warrior of Light... I won't stand a chance. What's more, my mind has become an awfully lonely place. My darkside has gone as well, missing at the same time as my aether. Try as I might, the abyss will not heed my call. It's an odd sensation; I hadn't known until now just how much comfort there was in having my darker half to talk to and rely upon. There, however, lies the detail that I brought up to Lua as we sat together, talking this over. My darkside isn't with me anymore, but I believe it isn't gone. We are two halves of a whole, connected to each other's very existence. If one of us were to be cast into the void, then the other would surely follow... and yet, I remain. I don't know where he is, the darkness of my soul, but I know that he's still out there. We may be a world away, but I'll find myself again, one way or another. I've gone through too much- waged wars and made peace with myself- to give up now. I will reconcile again with the abyss, and when I do, I will hunt down the creature that did this to me with Lua at my side, the abyss in my grasp and a blade on my back. All I have to do is stay alive until then. To Be Continued... ...in Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers

#short story #ffxiv #ffxiv spoilers #4.5 spoilers #4.56 spoilers #a requiem for heroes #Shadowbringers

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catte-bard · 6 years ago

Text

Dating Headcanons

More ship stuff cause I’m weak. Meme from here.

where they first met and how

When Bellona first came to the Waking Sands and joined the Scions.

how long their ‘flirting’ phase was before feelings got involved

For a while they playfully “flirted” back and forth with each other. More or less joking around. Romantic feelings didn’t start budding from it until after they met again during the events of HW.

who fell for who first ( if applicable )

Thancred fell pretty hard for Bel first.

where their first date was and what it was like

Nothing fancy. When they began their relationship there was little time for such indulgences. It had been a simple stroll around Ul’dah. Just enjoying the peaceful night with each other.

who asks who out and how ( with a sign? spelled out on a cake? just a simple ‘will you go out with me’? )

Thancred. He confesses his feelings to her first and asks if the feeling is mutual.

who proposes first

Thancred

if they keep / kept their relationship secret or let everyone know right away

They keep their relationship under wraps for a while. Mostly stolen moments in private. And maybe a few bold kisses stolen whenever someone wasn’t looking. They believe no one has discovered their relationship but Y’shtola figured it out relatively quick. She just humors them by pretending she doesn’t notice all the flirting and looks they give each other.

where the proposal happens and how ( kiss cam at a baseball game? on a hillside surrounded by ducks? at a disney park? )

Limsa Lominsa. He takes her to a quiet area overlooking the sea when he proposes.

if they adopt any pets together

Between Thancred’s curious nutkin and Bellona’s troublesome chocobo, they already have enough pets.

who’s more dominant

Both can be rather dominant but Thancred tends to be more so.

where their first kiss was and what it was like

In Ishgard. It was an impulsive moment of passion. Both were feeling a lot of things at the time after Thancred was found again. Neither ever spoke it aloud but an undeniable tension was growing between them. And eventually that tension led to a kiss one night under the Ishgardian moonlight. One that Bellona initially regretted, battling with these new-found feelings for Thancred and her feelings of mourning for Haurchefant.

if they have any matching couples stuff ( mugs? sweaters? pillowcases? )

Tataru once made all the Scions matching sweaters. Thancred doesn’t wear his often unless Bellona asks him to. She thinks it’s cute.

how into pda they are

Bellona tends to be rather shy about it. Thancred might kiss her or call her a sweet pet name in public and she’ll immediately go red and try to hide her face.

who holds the umbrella when it rains

Thancred’s taller so he usually would.

where their usual ‘date spot’ is ( if applicable )

Somewhere in Ul’dah. The city’s lovely and it’s far from the prying eyes of the Scions.

who’s more protective

They both tend to be incredibly protective of one another.

how long it is before they sleep together ( can be as in ‘had sex’ or as in ‘shared a bed’ )

A week or so after first starting to date, they do start to share a bed.

if they argue about anything

Bellona has a proclivity for recklessly throwing herself into danger. So that’s something that would come up in an argument. Thancred doesn’t like her lack of care for her own safety. And Bellona thinks he’s trying to treat her like she’s a fragile child.

who leaves more marks ( lipstick, hickeys, scratchmarks etc. )

Bellona...She bites...

who steals whose clothes and how often

Bellona. She’s only stolen one of Thancred’s shirts once. It was after he left on his mission to the Ilsabard. She missed him so she took one of his shirts for comfort. She wears it every night to bed.

how they cuddle ( spooning? facing each other? )

In all sort of ways I suppose. Sometimes spooning. Sometimes she lays on his chest. Sometimes he lays on her chest. They’re happy so long as they get to cuddle.

what their favourite nonsexual activity is

Just having quiet moments together. Neither having to worry about some crisis cropping up and tearing them away from each other.

how long they stay mad at each other

It depends on what they’d been arguing about. Usually both just need the day to cool off. Worse arguments might have them mad at each other for a few days before eventually making up.

what their usual coffee / tea orders are

Bellona likes her tea pale and sweet. A lot of sugar and cream. She doesn’t drink coffee.

Thancred might take a little sugar in his tea, though not as ungodly sweet as how Bellona likes hers.Coffee is just straight black.

if they ever have any children together

I have entertained the idea of them having kids. Three daughters probably. I imagine them both being pretty nervous about being parents though—-Thancred especially.

if they have any special pet names for each other

Thancred calls Bellona his “darling warrior” or his “love”. As well as several other sickeningly sweet pet names mostly used to embarrass her.

Bellona’s pet name for Thancred is often just “dashing rogue” or “Thanny” when she’s teasing him.

if they ever split up and / or get back together

Nothing has really driven them to that point. One might given the other the cold shoulder for a day if they were upset, but nothing ever got too bad.

what their shared living space is like ( messy? clean? what kind of decor? )

A fairly neat space. Perhaps a few stray books sitting were they shouldn’t be. There is some Far Eastern decor, due to Bellona’s many trips to Kugane.

what their first christmas / hanukkah / etc as a couple was like

Their first Starlight spent together was a nice one and pretty typical. They spent time putting up decorations together and even tried to bake some cookies---half of them ended up burnt but were otherwise enjoyed.

There was some playing around with some mistletoe. Thancred chasing Bellona around with it because she refused to sit still for a kiss.

what their names are in each other’s phones

if they have any ‘couple traditions’ ( buying a new mug for their collection every year? baking every friday evening? )

Neither would be really big on “couple traditions”

who falls asleep first and who wakes up first

Who falls asleep first tends to vary, but Thancred is always the first one up.

who’s the big spoon / little spoon

It could be either or.

who hogs the bathroom

Both are guilty of hogging the bathroom on occasion.

who kills the spiders / takes them outside

It has to be Thancred. Bellona’s too afraid of them. He takes joy in teasing her about it though. A woman who has faced off against primals and ascians. But she’s terrified of a little spider.

#writing #(To Open My Heart Again)#when i start to feel depressy i just want to work on a bunch of self-indulgent ship stuff

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safeforwark · 6 years ago

Text

The Sun Chases the Moon [SFW]

A romance fanfiction set in Final Fantasy XIV. When I saw these two interact in post-Stormblood I knew I had to write about them becoming a couple!

Magnai has long searched for his true love, his Nhaama. An encounter with Y'shtola Rhul leaves him certain (again) that the Sun has found his Moon. After a swift rejection however, he is left to think about what could have been, or perhaps what could be...

Contains spoilers for a post-Stormblood scene. I hope you enjoy kupo!

“Nhaama’s power is yours to wield!” Sadu, Khatun of the Dotharl, spoke in euphoric glee after extended battle with the Warrior of Light. “What does the Sun say to that?”

“Hmph. The Sun is not driven by base motives such as yours.” Magnai’s breath was labored, having just crossed blades with Lord Hien and Y’shtola.

“But aye, they have been judged…and found worthy.” Magnai stood and expressed his recognition of their strength. “The Sun shall answer you call.”

As soon as the affirmations of alliance were clear, Magnai wasted no time in turning the gaze of his brilliant yellow eyes to Y’shtola. Her face was new amongst the people not of the Steppe. Her skill was astounding, and her grace unlike anything he had ever seen. Her platinum hair framed a sharp, learned gaze from eyes of pale silver. He had not imagined such profound power from so scholarly and beautiful.

“You. By what are you called?”

Y’shtola hesitated to answer. “Y’shtola. Why?”

“Are you…” Magnai mumbled to himself. Unable to break his gaze from the cultured conjurer. His mind swirled with revelation. He wondered if it were not possible that his destined meeting, the introduction to his Nhaama, could it not be here and now?

“You shine with the full moon’s light, your healing touch as gentle as Nhaama’s love…” Magnai’s voice grew louder in excitement at his proclamation.

“Beholding you, I am all but certain! My Nhaama is no woman of the Steppe!” Magnai stepped forward, his intention clear to all at this point. He stepped close to gaze into Y’shtola’s eyes.

“Now, look into my eyes. Could it be…? Could you be...?” Magnai smiled, his stalwart confidence allowing him to be overjoyed in the moment of his union.

Y’sthola smiled sweetly at the Au Ra man. “I am…” Her lips became straight and serious as before, her words plain and direct. “…not interested little sun. Try again when you have become a man.”

Magnai was slow to react, his mouth falling open in shock. He had suffered countless insults from Sadu’s sharp tongue, and had admittedly been rebuffed by those who had turned out not to be his Nhaama many times. Yet somehow Y’shtola’s rejection cut him unfathomably deep.

“Little…?”

A burst of laughter followed from Sadu, who began to chide him relentlessly. Suffering such grievous insult after being rejected set Magnai’s blood to boiling, and he drew his axe without hesitation. Scarcely had the battle begun that Y’shtola elected to depart, scoffing at the asinine nature of the Xaela ‘diplomacy’, or lack thereof.

After extended battle, which did little to provide succor to his wounded pride, Magnai returned to the Dusk Throne and retired to his chambers. He wished to channel his anger into breaking something, to splitting a rock in two or crushing Dzo bones into dust. Yet something strange happened when he lifted his axe or clenched his fist. He felt blocked. The Miqo’te woman’s words rang as clear in his ears as when she spoke them.

He sat down on the edge of his bed, frustrated and defeated. Her smile was so beauteous, she had shown it to him just long enough for him to remember, yet it was gone just as swiftly, and replaced with her stern face as she rebuked him. As angry as it made him, the Oronir recognized the strong, and strength she had. How could he dismiss the admonishment of one such as her then? She had shown her wisdom to be beyond her years, there were no flaws with which to tarnish her image. And her image was indeed burned into his mind…

---

The sun was setting on another day in Mor Dhona, and the Rising Stones had grown quieter as the hustle and bustle of scions and adventurers died down. Save for Tataru’s work station…

“I’m not sure I understand…” Tataru looked wide eyed at the towering Au Ra before her.

Magnai shook his head, annoyed. “What is not to understand. I am here to join the order, this is the fold that calls themselves the Scions of the Seventh Dawn is it not?”

“Well yes, but, you’re…” Tataru stammered, she had dealt with questionable applicants before, but dismissal based on a lack of experience or credential would probably only serve to stoke this one’s anger more.

Magnai clenched his hands into fists. “I have journeyed far little one, do you mean to play games with the Sun?!”

“Eep!” Tataru jumped out of her seat and shuffled towards the door to the back room. “I-I must consult a senior member you see, er, we will get back to you, terribly sorry!”

As the Lalafell vanished into the back Magnai sat down with his arms folded. The pure ridiculousness of the lengths he must go to. For her though… it would all be worth it to win his Nhaama…

After several minutes Alphinaud emerged from the back with Tataru in tow.

Alphinaud approached and extended his hand in greeting. “Magnai was it? It is an honor to speak with the khatun of the Oronir. I am given to understand you are quite the magnanimous leader on the steppe.”

Tataru eyed Magnai sideways, leaning shyly toward Alphinaud as she tried to whisper to him. “Alphinaud that’s not what I—"

“It is the duty of the Sun to shepherd his people.” Magnai hesitated, but then grasped Alphinaud’s hand. “This land is far from the steppe however, and I am come to learn of its ways, of you Eorzeans.”

Alphinaud tilted his head a little, but still wore a diplomatic smile. “Full glad are we to have your interest, let alone your presence. Pray tell though, why do you wish to become a Scion? Certainly there are other ways to learn of this land and its people.”

Magnai’s stern face clearly became focused on something altogether in his mind. He tilted his head back and folded his arms. “Because the moon herself is of your fold, and of your people.”

Alphinaud and Tataru stood with slightly confused expressions, unsure of how to respond.

Magnai returned his gaze downward to the extant world. “If this is the way of fate, than it is the responsibility of the Sun to shine for all his people. I must act not for the people of my blood alone, but hers as well. I would honor the moon in this way.”

Tataru tugged on Alphinaud’s sleeve, attempting again to deliver her words in a hushed tone. “This seems rather suspicious, I don’t think—"

“Very well!” Alphinaud smile as he boldly raised his voice. “I would normally think to cross examine you more, but your passion as a defender of the people is plain. Your willingness to incorporate a larger body of people not your own is truly altruistic, and will serve you well.”

Tataru’s jaw slowly dropped open, she looked at Magnai, and then back at Alphinaud, and back at Magnai.

Alphinaud continued, “You see I am also not of Eorzea, in fact a great deal of the senior scions hail from the shores of Sharlayan, including the likes of myself, Urianger, and Y’shtola.”

Magnai’s expression changed upon hearing Y’shtola’s name. The change was ever so slight, but Tataru raised an eyebrow, noticing his widened eyes and retraction of his scowl.

Magnai nodded, slightly more enthusiastic for dealing with him. “I am… grateful… for your acceptance. I would be happy to stand beside these… senior members.”

Alphinaud put a hand to his chin. “Well, I certainly needn’t question your strength. I received a first hand account of your prowess during the Naadam from the Warrior of Light themselves. If you are truly willing to put yourself into potential danger for us, mayhap you could greatly aid some of our senior members…”

Tataru folder her arms and narrowed her eyes as she sat down, watching as Alphinaud chattered away with Magnai.

“It sounds as though stealth does not suit your skillset, and Urangier would not have much use for your axe… One of the members I mentioned, she is a healer. She is powerful in her own right, but having a warrior such as yourself would ward her from danger, and her skills would no doubt bolster your own battle capability.”

As they begin to walk away, Tataru silently shook her head. This could not possibly end well…

---

The sun was shining brilliantly over Vyllbrand.

“My… companion and I require passage across.” Y’shtola passed a purse of gil to the ferrymen. She glanced back at Magnai. He was staring at her again, a small smile on his face. Rather he was almost always staring at her, which incidentally seemed to be the only time he saw reason to smile about anything. In her opinion the entire situation was as unwelcome as it was unnecessary. She sighed as the pair stepped into the small dingy.

Alphinaud had foisted it upon her without much choice. She remembered the conversation between them, how Alphinaud had seen ‘great potential for an ally’ and ‘a chance to diversify the scion’s staff’. While the order had decided on a loose structure, he was being awfully presumptuous to make such a decision without consulting anyone. Then he had brought him all the way to her with no warning! Y’shtola furrowed her brow. She had nowhere else to send him, he hadn’t the first clue about Eorzea, and Alphinaud had quickly managed to wash his hands of all responsibility.

“What troubles you, my… ah… Y’shtola.” Magnai caught himself, she had put a swift end to being called the endearing title of Nhaama.

Y’shtola swept a hand through her hair. “Nothing of consequence…”

She gestured to the approaching isle of Umbra, and the grand lighthouse skewered with corrupted crystal. “The Pharos Sirius, it was once the grandest single structure on Vyllbrand.” Y’shtola had already quickly adopted the habit of explaining visible points of interest as if a common tour guide. This was often the only thing that would break his gaze away from her for a time.

Magnai took in the structure, thinking that from the very top it must be much taller than even the Dawn Throne. “It is impressive to reach to the heavens so. Yet now it is…”

“Derelict, aye…” Y’shtola stared at the enormous shard that pierced the tower, clearly seeing it’s outline because of the corrupted aether within. “This but one of many things destroyed in the calamity, and it is not the worst of it.”

Y’shtola looked toward the mainland coastline. “For one who knew the lay of this land, it is a constant reminder. Where you now see barren bramble once stood verdant grains. Where you now see cliffs and peaks once lay fields and streams. Where you see rubble stood homes, and the families that built them…”

As Y’shtola’s voice faded from a hush to silence, the boat rocked gently with the waves, its small splashes in the water the only noise to break the silence. Magnai crossed his arms and looked at all he could see around him, noting every uneven break in the terrain, every set of decayed foliage, and finally the giant crystal shard that pierced the pharos.

“…To have the very heavens fall around you. The people of this land have suffered greatly.” Magnai’s tone was heavy.

The distinctly emotional response surprised Y’shtola. He seemed to truly take the gravity of her explanation to heart. She found herself staring at him for a change, watching his stern expression as he seemed to reflect upon the perspective she had presented him. They had only been traveling together a few days, mayhap she needn’t be so quick to judgement, her lack of patience with people these days was reminding her too much of her old mentor…

Magnai stood as the dingy approached the shores of Umbra, rocking the small boat with his size. His grip tightened on his axe. “This place is abandoned then? Will there be aught to fight?”

Y’shtola gripped the sides of the rocking boat and flattened her ears, thinking that on the other hand she shouldn’t forget all she had witnessed on the steppe.

As the boat moored itself against the sand beneath it Y’shtola hopped over the side with Magnai following close behind. The waves lapped at her boots as she walked ashore. As they approached Y’shtola’s senses could make out the worn stairway leading up the Pharos. The scene was quiet, which would be conducive to her work, had she not a curious and love-struck follower ilms away from her at all times.

“Alright, I need to examine the crystals. It is dangerous to linger about them for too long, so keep your distance for awhi—”

Both heard the soft skittering in the sand approaching. Magnai raised his axe as several mantises appeared from the rocky terrain.

“Seems my quiet was not meant to be…” Y’shtola sighed.

---

Though their pairing was farcical to Y’shtola, she did not dismiss Magnai, assuming he would tire of his duties or of her before long and return to Othard of his own volition. Days turned to weeks however, and as their time together stretched into months Y’shtola started forgetting to wonder when he would leave. It started to become all too second nature to plan accordingly for having him travel with her.

Much of her time was devoted to research, trying to understand the changes in the aether around the world. Magnai was a useful protector if naught else during such times, clearing hostile beasts and saving Y’shtola the trouble. Any other time he was simply observing her or asking questions about the world around them. Familiarity made his gaze less and less bothersome, and she began to enjoy teaching him about Eorzea, wondering if the self-satisfaction of enlightening such a wild and uncouth individual was how Matoya had felt teaching her.

On a typical overcast day, Y’shtola and Magnai set out for Oakwood. She had been asked by Limsan officials to look into the local fauna behaving strangely, with no naturalist able to discern why. They walked in quiet along a gentle stream as Y’shtola tried to spot any unusual patterns in the aether. Suddenly the sound of splashing water and screams broke the silence.

“Please!! Help!!” A child’s voice, panicked and sobbing.

They both spied the young girl immediately, running across the shallow stream ahead of them. A group of three coeurl’s darted about on her sides, making ready to pounce on the child. Both Y’shtola and Magnai sprinted forward without hesitation.

Y’shtola shouted, “Magnai, the right!”

As Y’shtola jumped directly in front of the child Magnai flew passed them, bringing his axe down as quick as lightning on one of the coeurls, cleaving it against the ground before it could react. The other coeurl leapt at him with fangs bared, but was met with the flat side of Magnai’s weapon as he absorbed the force of its leap, and then threw the beast to the side. By the time it pounced back onto its legs, Magnai was bearing down on it, one slash of his axe leaving it bereft of life.

The third coeurl sprinted directly at Y’shtola and the child. Y’shtola conjured a flurry of biting wind that assailed it from the front, causing the beast to flinch and redirect its course. Before it could make another attempt Y’shtola focused on her staff, and a strong line of white light sliced through the air. The beast took only a single step before falling to the ground, thereafter motionless.

With the threat removed they turned their attention to the whimpering girl.

Y’shtola kneeled down in front of her. “You’re alright now little one. What were you doing out here?”

The girl sniffled as she spoke. “I… I jus’ wanted t’ fish… My da’ never lets me…”

Y’shtola nodded. “Mayhap for good reason, this place is not safe for a child on her own.”

The child whimpered, “E’ says… the wolves tha’ take our livestock would get me… but I ‘ate stayin’ inside the fence all day…”

Y’shtola shook her head. “It is for your own safety little one...”

“Nonsense.” Magnai stepped forward toward them. Y’shtola looked at him in surprise, confused as to why he would interject.

The intimidating Au Ra stood dauntingly high over the young hyur girl. The shaken child looked at him anxiously, fearful of his intimidating presence. Magnai pulled a hatchet from his robe, presenting it to the little girl.

“Take it in your hand.”

The girl nervously reached for and put her hand on the handle. As Magnai let go the heavy hatchet fell to the ground with her fingers still around it. The girl put her strength into lifting it back up, the tool clearly being unwieldly in her hands.

Magnai addressed her sternly. “Do not dishonor your family by becoming food for the beasts. You must find the strength to protect your land and your people. Thus do we earn the right to take of its bounty. Do not venture forth again until you can split a stone as big as you with your swing.”

The girl stared at him wide eyed and nodded. After it became clear Magnai had nothing else to say to her, she pointed down the path. “My ‘ome is there…”

Magnai crossed his arms. “You set out on this journey by your own will, you must be able to complete that which you begin. Go forth, we shall follow.”

The girl nodded nervously. She turned around and began walking down the path, stopping and turning her head to look back at them every few steps. Magnai’s piercing gaze would drive her to take another few steps forward before having to look back again to ensure they were still there. As she forged on Y’shtola stood up and walked with Magnai as they trailed behind her.

She had not expected someone who had shown such disregard for simple diplomacy to have such a way with children. She felt remiss in calling him uncultured, even if she had found the Xaela practices oafish and savage. Now as she looked at Magnai she saw the aura of his aether differently, in a way she somehow never noticed before. His aura always looked so fiery and intense, she thought his ill-tempered and capricious nature to be the cause. Though as intense as it could be, she now observed how gently it glowed, so bright yet… a warm, welcoming incandescence.

“I am surprised at how well you handled the child. A bit blunt, but you gave her direction while warning her of the danger.” Y’shtola’s tone belied her curiosity.

Magnai kept his gaze fixed on the young girl walking ahead of them. “Children are not beasts to be tamed. They should be guided to reach their own heights, with their own actions, that is how we Oronir teach the value of strength.”

Magnai smiled to himself. “I can tell you were not brought up on so different of lessons, your will is like that of the steppe. I imagine they who raised you knew well the value of strength.”

Y’shtola’s ears perked up, her lips parting without sound as Matoya flashed through her mind. To think that he of all people could have such insight. She chuckled quietly to herself and smiled.

“Perhaps…”

---

The sun was already sinking below the horizon as Y’shtola and Magnai stepped onto the docks in Kugane.

Magnai looked around at the Hingan city. “It has been a long time since I set out from this land to find you.”

Y’shtola scoffed at him. “Perhaps had you thought to investigate my identity rather than blindly asking everyone my name you would have found me much sooner.”

Magnai furled his brow. “Hmph.”

“Come.” Y’shtola began walking along the pier. “The Ruby Sea will be easier to cross by day, we’ll resume our journey to Othard tomorrow.”

As they crossed the city Magnai looked to the sky. The paper lanterns were hardly needed this evening, their soft glow outcompeted by the brilliant light of the full moon. He took a deep breath, gazing at its luster.

“Are you coming? Or do you intend to take in the night life?” Y’shtola’s voice called out to him.

He looked back down from the heavens to see her standing in front of the inn. A sweet smile on her face. The same smile he had seen so long ago, on the day he first met her. He smiled himself, and then followed her inside.

---

“It has been too long since we were able to bathe and have a proper night’s rest.” Y’shtola mused as she closed the door, returning from the baths. Y’shtola had donned a pure white yukata, beautifully complimenting her fair skin, much of which could be seen as the garment barely draped around her thighs. Magnai’s red skin conveniently masked the flushing of his face.

Y’shtola sat on the edge of the cot, looking over at Magnai, who sat at the window looking out over the inn’s moonlit garden. Tataru’s frugality was beginning to become extreme, one of her demands being that those afield together share lodgings. By now Y’shtola had become far too used to the company to complain.

“How does it look?”

Magnai turned to look back at her. “It is lovely. The moon shines in great splendor tonight. It is… a shame you cannot behold it.”

Y’shtola shook her head. “I am still blessed to see a great deal. In ways I might never have imagined.”

Magnai stood and faced her, dramatically holding out his hands. “Just as well, the sight still pales in comparison to your own radiance.”

Y’shtola tilted her head, letting her smile show as she did. “Now on that I will simply have to take your word.”

Magnai walked over and kneeled down in front of Y’shtola. “Tell me, long have I feared asking one who truly sees all as it is. What do you see, when you look at me?”

“I see…” the strange mixture of emotion in his voice struck a chord with Y’shtola. She reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. “A brilliant glow, it is bright and passionate enough to stand out among many, almost overbearingly so. Yet it shines softly, with purpose on all it touches. It is warm and welcoming, like the daybreak after a long night.”

Magnai nodded slowly, then reached to take up one of Y’shtola’s hands. “Your words are succor to my heart. Though all my time with you has been a blessing. To be the Sun, yet see so little beyond thine own radiance is folly. You have been as my moon, showing me that the Sun’s brilliance is naught without aught to shine on.”

Y’shtola was taken aback by Magnai’s uncharacteristically eloquent speech. Squeezing the hand that held hers. “I am moved that you would credit me with such. The… Sun, should be proud of his own accomplishments. Though I cannot help but wonder If he’s been listening to Thancred spin words for passing beauties.”

Magnai shook his head. “The Sun shines for all, but chases only after his moon.”

His free hand gingerly touched Y’shtola’s cheek as he leaned in toward her. Y’shtola looked at him softly, without speaking a word in response. As his face neared hers, he pulled her in until their lips met. His gentle demeanor didn’t surprise Y’shtola so much anymore. As their lips held together, she wondered if she just hadn’t been able to see it at first, or if their time together had brought out a different side of him.

The side of her yukata slipped down over her right shoulder as they kissed once more, and again, and again…

Outside their window in the garden it was quiet, with only the glowing moon as witness until it sank from the sky to give way to the dawn.

---

Y’shtola woke first, her unconscious stretching waking Magnai as she moved in his arms. They wearily opened their eyes and met each other’s gaze. They smiled at each other as thoughts of the many months leading to previous night drifted through their mind. Unusual for him, Magnai felt himself at a loss for words. Holding Y’shtola in his arms, feeling affection and warmth from her embrace, he finally felt… content.

Y’shtola sighed softly, speaking in a hushed tone, her normally strong words hinting at embarrassment. “I suppose this makes me… your Nhaama...”

They hugged each other a little tighter…

---

Magnai walked down the trail ahead of Y’shtola, his axe sitting on his shoulder as he took long, energetic steps. He reached the crest of a hill overlooking the valley path towards the Azim Steppe.

“Ah, we are so close to the Steppe! I can smell it’s familiar air on the breeze!”

Y’shtola chuckled as she walked up beside him. “I’ve not seen you so giddy since we found that Wind-up Sun in the markets.”

Magnai nodded. “It is momentous for the Sun to finally return to the Steppe, and when I tell them I now have my Moo—OOMPH.”

A stiff arm to the stomach cut Magnai short, as Y’shtola stared sternly.

“and I told you not to call me such til we are behind closed doors.” Y’shtola gave him a coy smile. “My dearest Sun.”

#Final Fantasy XIV #FFXIV fanfiction #Romance fanfiction #Y'shtola #Magnai #Safe For Wark

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kivaember · 6 years ago

Note

what about a date? Where would aza go for a date vs where would aym go? Aza trying to be romantic and cater to aym shenanigans ensue...I hope you writing juices flow freely at any rate

IT DID INDEED HELP thank you ;;w;; here you go!

“You… made a reservation at the Bismark…?”

Aza looked a little disgruntled at Bluebird’s open displayof shock, crossing his arms over his chest as he tilted his chin stubbornly, “Yeah,for a romantic dinner.”

Bluebird reeled at the revelation that Aza even knew what a romantic dinner was – thiswas the same person who thought a good first date for him and Aymeric was to fighta pack of Behemoths (which ended as disastrously as one would expect) – and squinteda little suspiciously at him. Aza didn’t just do these things unprompted. Something was afoot here.

“How’d you even geta reservation?” she asked, “Would’ve thought they’d take one look at your scruffy,blood-stained mess of an outfit and kick you out before you got a word inedgewise.”

“Lyngsath owed me a favour,” Aza huffed, “Also, hello?Warrior of Light here?”

“Ah,” Bluebird nodded slowly, “Exploiting your fame. Verynice.”

“Moving on,” Aza sighed, “I didn’t tell you about it so youcould mock me. I told you because,um, well, you’re right about the scruffy outfit…”

Bluebird perked up, utterly delighted, “Is this happening?Are you asking me for fashion advice?Me?”

“It was either you or Tataru, and I’m not opening myself tobe ambushed by a pack of tailors again!” Aza hissed, looking adorably flusteredat that memory. That’s right, Tataru had arranged for him to be fitted for alovely outfit – too bad he got spooked by the, uh, aggressiveness of the tailorsand hid up a tree for six hours, so that nice outfit still remained a conceptin Tataru’s ambitious little mind, “Just help me!”

“Okay, okay…” Bluebird rolled her eyes, “Though, you’reasking a lot. You’re gonna whine no matter what I pick.”

“I won’t whine.”

“Oh?” Bluebird raised her eyebrows, “What if I say, ‘noarmour’?”

Aza, predictably, made a face, “But-”

“No armour,” Bluebird repeated, unable to hold back thelarge, shit-eating grin curling her mouth, “No breastplate, no gambeson, no leatherand no weapons.”

“What if-”

“If you can sneak it into your breeches without anyone beingthe wiser, then sure,” Bluebird relented, because Aza was probably going toslip in an entire armoury in his smallclothes otherwise. She long learned thatsome things you needed to make concessions on, when it came to Aza, “But you’renot bringing that stupid meat cleaver.”

“Fine,” Aza said sullenly.

Bluebird tapped her bottom lip in thought then, looking herbrother up and down. He was wearing his usual adventurer fare – all darkleather with a few suspicious stains here and there, as well as clear signs ofhasty repair, topped off with a pitted, old breastplate that had seen betterdays. His gear was well-worn, but reliableand well cared for – but to the less experienced eye, he looked like some hoboadventurer that didn’t have two coins to rub together. Definitely not the outfit for a romantic date in a high-endrestaurant.

The problem was, understandably, Aza disliked being vulnerable in open, public spaces. He had anxietyproblems, and being clad in sturdy, protective clothing mitigated that. Puttinghim well out of his comfort zone, in an unfamiliar situation, while alreadybeing mildly anxious for things to go right… it was a disaster in the making. Probablynot as bad as the Behemoth Date, but… disastrous in a different way.

Bluebird smiled. There was no way she was going to miss witnessingthis dumpster fire.

“Right, I’m not an expert on fine dining,” she said slowly, “ButI think I can rustle up an outfit that won’t immediately peg you as some crazy mountain hermit.”

“Hey.”

“Unless you wanna go to Tataru?”

“… I’m fine, thanks.”

Bluebird clapped her hands together, smiling brightly, “Great! So, c’mon! We’re gonna go shoppingfor your perfect date outfit.”

“Urgh.”

–

The Bismark was theplace to go, if you had the patience to wait for a reservation opening and themoney to back it up. It boasted a diverse menu, with dishes from all over thestar made by skilled, experienced chefs from the Culinary Guild. Commonly, ithosted people of great import from the city states, which, naturally, began toinclude Ishgard now that they had opened their frozen gates to the EorzeanAlliance at large, be they successful merchants, famous mercenaries or even Ul’dahnpoliticians.

Still, despite the time it had been since Ishgard’s slowacceptance into Eorzea as a whole, this was still Aymeric’s first visit to theplace. It was both familiar yet strange – parts of it reminded him of the sophisticateddining halls for the Ishgardian nobility, yet it wasn’t stiff about it. Set out on an open deck with a lovely view of theLimsa Lominsan decks and the coast of Vylbrand, the smell of salt air on awarm, coastal wind despite the late hour, the stars above glittering bright ina purple-blue streak across the navy blue sky… it was leagues above any grey-stonedIshgardian dining hall, stifled with traditional formality.

But what reallymade it was Aza. His partner hadreally come through for him tonight.

“So, um, how do you like the place?” Aza asked him almost shylyafter their starters were served and their wine glasses filled, “I know it’snot as fancy as that Ishgardian place…”

“I love it,” Aymeric said easily, “Far more relaxing, forone.”

Aza smiled, clearly relieved, and Aymeric took a moment toadmire the look on him. For once his partner wasn’t stubbornly clad in armour(though, no doubt armed, as he had the disconcerting ability to smuggle in allmanner of knives in his smallclothes without detection) and was dressed in arather simple yet flattering affair of shirt and trousers. It looked distinctlyGridanian in some way, but Aymeric couldn’t place the exact style.

Whatever it was, it looked nice. Aza looked nice – not to say he normally didn’t, but even Aymeric wanted to see him in something that wasn’twell-worn, blood-stained armour from time to time.

“You look lovely,” Aymeric murmured, “Who dressed you?”

Aza’s smile eased into something wry, “Couldn’t I havedressed myself?”

Aymeric just looked at him.

“…okay, fine, itwas Bluebird,” Aza grumbled, his bottom lip jutting out just so. Aymeric had a fleeting urge to nip at it.

“She did a finejob,” Aymeric purred, picking up his wine glass and hiding his smile behind itsrim, “Very fine. I do love how thatshirt hugs your chest. It leaves naught to the imagination, and I want to-”

“Alright, lusty,” Aza interrupted, his cheeks slightly pink,“Stow that talk for later. We’re being romantichere.”

“Ah, sorry. Remind me to continue that thought after a fewmore wine glasses,” Aymeric said a mite impishly, “Do you have anything plannedfor after the meal?”

“Got a room we can crash in the Drowning Wench,” Aza said,then quickly added, “Don’t let the name fool you. The rooms are nice, and Iknow Baderon, the guy who owns it. He makes an amazing breakfast.”

An amazing breakfast… why does Aymeric feel like he’s heardthat before? Ah, wait. He knew where. “Is it that ‘La Noscean toast’ you made afew weeks ago?”

“Yes!” Aza perked up, delighted as always whenever Aymeric remembereda culinary dish of his, “I don’t make it as well as Baderon, though. So, if youthought mine was nice, wait ‘til you try his!”

Aymeric smiled, something warm and fuzzy brimming in hisheart at Aza’s clear, pure happiness, “Hmm, I’m looking forward to it.”

The meal proceeded from there. It was… nice. Aymeric triednew things, Aza happily explained the more obscure dishes in the menu, and theyspoke about trivial and mundane and simple things while steadily drinking theirway through three wine bottles. It wasn’t as strong as the paint stripperIshgardians normally passed off as alcohol, in fact it was weak as far as wineswent, but it was enough to make him a bit woozy and flushed while Aza leaptstraight into drowsy by the time their desserts came round.

“Aza, darling, your cheesecake isn’t a cushion.”

“Mmff…” Aza mumbled, barely keeping himself fromfaceplanting said cheesecake by propping his cheek on an upturned palm, hiseyes squinted half-shut, “It looks… soft enough too.”

Aymeric chuckled, reaching out to carefully tug theuntouched dessert out of faceplanting range, “Should I order us some coffee?”

“Mmm…”

Aza didn’t look much better after an emergency shot of espressowas delivered, but he did perk up enough to eat his cheesecake, luckily enough.Whilst it looked very appetising, Aymeric himself was too stuffed to try andput that away by himself, and it would be a shame to waste the whole thing onaccount of Aza’s drowsiness.

“You might… have to carry me to the inn,” Aza mumbled aroundhis fork, the silverware bouncing up and down from the movement of his lips. Itwas a shocking lack of table manners that would’ve scandalised any Ishgardiannoble. Aymeric simply found it adorable, “M’sleepy…”

“Quite a distance to carry you,” Aymeric hummed teasingly, “You’requite heavy, after all, I might end up dropping you.”

“You callin’ me fat?”

“Muscular, more like,” Aymeric muttered, “And incrediblydense.”

“Oi.”

Despite Aza’s fears, however, once the bill was paid andthey made their unsteady way out of the restaurant towards the Aftcastle, Azawas able to move under his own power… albeit he had to cling tight to Aymeric’sarm, pressed close to his side and letting out a low, rumbling purr thatsignalled his utter contentment.

Around them, Limsa Lominsa was well awake, despite the latehour, the distant clang of bells and horns, the murmur of crowds and sailorshitting the taverns or skulking back to their ships – and above, the starstwinkled bright, with the splash of the galaxy stark against the night sky.Aymeric soaked it all in, and all the tension he had brought with him to LimsaLominsa just… seeped out of him, relaxed in a way he rarely felt nowadays, whatwith… everything happening.

“Thank you,” he murmured softly to Aza, who merely hummedsleepily at him, “Tonight was lovely.”

“’nythin’ for you, han’some…” Aza mumbled, “M’happy youenjoyed.”

“Mm…”

With that, they continued on to the Drowning Wench, lookinglike any other couple stumbling back from a successful date at the Bismark,rather than the famed Warrior of Light and the Lord Commander of Ishgard. Foronce… they had a night of utter romantic normalcy, and it was nice.

Yet it remained to be seen, how many of these nice datesthey had left, with how things continued with Garlemald, and the Ascians…

#ffxiv #fanfic #warrior of light #aymeric de borel #original characters

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