#xivwrites

[shadowed-vigil]

day 26: zip

verb: to fasten; to move at high speed.  or, the idiom, zip [your lip]: to say nothing or stop talking.  characters: warrior of light, her father word count: 448 arcelia says hi to her dad after all these years. notes: endwalker spoilers; takes place sometime post-85 dungeon. may be canonical, may not — haven’t decided !

She nearly doesn’t believe her eyes at first glance. 

The man flagging her down is at best vaguely familiar, the distant, fragmented memories slotting into place to piece together the puzzle of it. Because there’s the matter of time wearing on her memory, but she supposes that time would have worn on him, too, physically — older as he should be, his hair grayed throughout, his eyes —

He smiles and it’s another memory, another twist of something visceral. 

Arcelia just stares. 

“It’s been awhile, spitfire,” he says, drawing closer. His eyes crease at the edges when he smiles, just like she remembers. “I’ve heard the rumors over the years, of course, but surely you understand why it was difficult for me to believe at first.” 

Of course, she thinks. You probably thought I was dead, too. Back in the Shroud — where you’d said I’d belonged. Where you would have had me stay. 

Her tail curls, her hand flexing. The Scions must have noticed the man by now, if not the connection between them, too, judging by the silence behind her, their wariness at war with her — 

“And the name,” he goes on, hand on his hip. “Bright?”

She blinks.

“Well. I certainly wasn't going to carry your name.”

It comes out deadpan, but her initial shock begins to give way to something more indignant. Her pulse quickens — not anxiously for once, but incredulous, irritated. 

He pauses. There’s a flicker of surprise that crosses his features, before it settles into something more solemn. 

“...I thought you might carry your mother’s.”

Her eye twitches. 

“I carry her in other ways.”

Anger bleeds into her words as she stiffens, the base of her tail puffed in aggravation, bristling even worse when he has the audacity to look mildly baffled. She wants to ask him why he’s even here; what possible reason he had to even be in Old Sharlayan to begin with; because adventurer or no, the timing is almost laughably miserable, with the skies yet burning over Ilsabard, with her most recent brush with perma-death in Thavnair, dead men making themselves known years after the fact, again —

“I thought you’d be happy to see me,” he admits, somewhat sheepishly. 

It stuns her more than his initial greeting. Because —

I don’t feel anything about you. 

Arcelia clears her throat.

“Well,” she says. “I’ve got a lot going on right now. So, if you’ll excuse me.” 

Thancred hovers close at her side before she even has a chance to reach for him. He says nothing when she clutches at his sleeve, silently walking alongside her as they continue past her father, as they and the rest of the Scions continue towards the Annex.

[queenofnohr]

Title: desire — bestow — desire Prompt: deleterious Rating: E Tags/Warnings: yuri Pairing: wol/wol Word Count: 529 Summary: ngl folks it's just modern au yuri. smiles.

[lady-protector]

sometimes you see a really good art on twitter and then you black out and it's like 3 hours later and you made a whole ass mod and only managed one pose but it's a really good one

[potassium-pilot]

I watched Princess Bride last night and got inspired

[captainkurosolaire]

X4 ~ Therapy

Reference ~ Mending Past ~ ♪"Transgender"♪

Fidgeting callous digits drew together, coral incense diffuser carried a eucalyptus scent to tranquil nerves being judder, open nasal-ways passages to breathe palpably again. The bold standing in the seat never felt this got anymore untroubled. Plunged-seeking for help from a dearest hearty found himself comfortable to confine in. Instinctively airing out, grievances, pain bottled within, wasn’t natural. It was attempting to relearn or change nature altogether. Kinsmen would call this act by being here, a sign of definitive weakness. They’d shun him even further, mocking his stake as a man, calling his pride pitiful… Artificially determined by underachievers of our society. However to expose your vulnerabilities, requires unprecedented power. Grit against that lingering, nagging feeling when your entire existence wants to crawl away. Is contesting against what’s supposed to be ‘nature.’ Upon this lounge seat, he was never-braver. A pirate-chasing after the grandest treasure, all forget-to-often, Tormented inner seas to navigate and master; Self-discovery! If someone were to acquire all the wealth in that… One must have to wonder, where’d they stand? Perhaps higher… Of a place not-yet charted to the fullest.

Sweat drenched palms, his throat gulped and dried before, “Ugh, this feels like I’m on a casting-couch n’ th’ local Red-Light District, tryna��� get some virgin hole’s stretched this Sennight.” Doing what often did to everyone who came in-contact, crudely buried and joked it away. Mocking his own feelings-until it was numb, displacing their noise. Throwing a popcorn-shrimp into his mouth with snacks on display, Council was also his Chef aboard too. Across from patient, a kind-hearted, Sea Roe and motherly-like maiden, giving a small-giggle at his remark, “It’s okay. We can wait for you to lax, this isn’t something we need to force open. There’s no-fires, here Cap’n. You’re safe, waves outdoors from us, under that sail-breeze accompanied.” She stumbled-across him when concerned, after nearly-dying from experimenting on narcotics and mixing strong-rum together one-night. Without her keen-observance the Sea Maiden didn’t notice his eyes incoherently devoid of sense, that faithful-Sun. She would’ve been too-late. Suffering more scars-than physically the canvas conveyed on him. Early on taking a mantle. Faltering when it came to multiple Crews. Incurring, mutinies, several enemies, known. Or lurking within depths of the unknown. Bounties that became steep from his escapades of fearlessness. Always targets at his back the moment he donned the inherited Tricorn Hat. From fallen Cap’n who founded this Goldbrand. Inside that-wee-bit part of us that holds us back ushering, whispering like a conniving parasite. Crept-in, saying to flee, run-away. Holding us back from growth-ushering and flourishing. It often won. Looking for any way to get-off-the-hook, from achieving anything, may lead to either happiness or deemed-fortune. Important to often resist that insignificant-part. To combat this requires a shout of frustration, and committing to your declared steps to truly heal. “What would ye’ like t’ ask?” Nerves turned to stone, a deep-inhale taken and exhalation followed. Amusement, candle-lit her visage, before an earnest-smile followed, “We’ll start discussing, what brings you thrill, fulfillment? You’ve a coffer of stories, Captain. They’re written not just upon but through you. Acquiring a healthy outlet to release them may help you astutely, or give room to castaway and relinquish unnecessary weight.” She had an ease sharing empathic attributes. Every emotion someone underwent was her own. Devilishly uprooted, a no-good expression of debauchery collected his features, “Ye sure about that? I could go-listing many pleasurable affairs with vivid details. Can’t say none of those experiences weren't a thrill. Worth th’ voyage my partners I’d bet could vouch fellow sentiments.” Looking to stir-up or shake, but she didn’t waver. Expecting to have her roll-her-eyes, give up on him before starting, hopelessly. As many before-her claimed to be ears. Was obvious she would’ve listened to anything. Nothing could deter her aid, cradled around him knowing just his actual hurt. This what a true-friend exhibited; a Crew? Uncanny, selfishness often was prime here, a believed-necessity. Expect everyone with a knife-of-betrayal equipped Loyalty, if held, resided the strongest-currency. Not glinted gold nor silver.

Bested by her with a pout, seriousness followed his features loosened actually thinking of what her words asked. “I guess seeing dreams realized ov’ others. Particularly my mateys anymore is enough satisfaction. I’ve held many wonders upon this realm. I scoured formerly n’ my shade, claiming Voidal Relics, t’ lost treasures left forgotten and barren. Every-time, I felt further from complete. Would-think with the infamy and power I was collecting, even the fortune I had. There’s no way I wouldn’t feel a sense of freedom sought or grandness. Regardless a gap waged between. Acquiring those ambitious endeavors took extreme sacrifices, not always on my account. I asked much ov’ my fellows. Two-men on the crew who were lovers had much to still-live on and found eachother in my stead, recently-wed, n’ they willingly chased after these materialistic-gains, fer me…  One voyage, required t’ see a difference-make against a War of the Depths that came t’ our shores. Despite their commitment to each other that adventure was seen-through by them. It’d prove the last-moment they shared together. One of them became corrupted, tainted by a relic’s influence, consumed ov’ ration, and killed their own heart; the very partner.” Broke-down and strings inside holding his composure, snapped. Quivering in his voice to encounter realization, “W-what, kind of Cap’n does that? I kept getting my hearties killed! Thwarting away futures not my claim t’ take. Cause of selfishness, greed, to prevent others from having all th’ cards n’ their own coffer? What th’ HELL was th’ justification!? They should still be together…” Balling his fist, nails-delving into his palm until bled. She wrote notes on her clip-board before setting it down. Unknowingly a part of her… Slumbering was strictly-involved in that War of the Depths. Reincarnation of the very-prime-foe. Even beyond both their known. Captain felt it instinctively during their meeting. Soon washed away the notion and mistrusted his own instinct. Because it wasn’t all-true. She demonstrated a whole difference to the advisory, formerly named Siren among Sirens in mythos, who orchestrated and owned an Empire at Depths of the Rohtano. Calmly and understanding from his perspective, “Cap’n we can’t carry everything outside us and blame our shoulders for not staying upright, otherwise we anchor and quickly follow-pursuit of the dead. You said it yourself they willingly followed and saw crucially a mission you-mentioned for that War? What would’ve happened if they didn’t? I’ve to bet more lives lost; War unfortunately is that, there’s no real-fortune any side attains. Always loss-occurs. Think they would-agree that was in-vain? Would they-be any happier or rested souls, knowing their Captain they shared who guided them to another foremost, sabotaged and chained himself because of their behalf? Your survival has a lot of guilt, it’s harmful.” Lowering herself to extend the reach of voice, it never once, impacted a sense of thought or deep-truth to reflect in. Frustration was being quelled, she further descended down to pull him from shallow-bellows of torment. 

As-if her spirit was diving to rescue him, where misery and sorrow; drowns their victims. She attempted to explain with insightful unfathomable wisdom, “Perception carries and decides our reality. Instead of seeing your failure, think of victory. You won in some semblance a War, a tremendous feat; prevailing over it. Every-breath you take on carries extra-life of every fallen hearty you said goodbye, departed to those early sea-bed graves. Look what’ve you achieved, how you’ve mustered courageously, standing against that Past. You’re able to discern; what’s wrong or is containing your gravity. Wallowing is dangerous, making people stuck in-limbo, devouring the Future and preventing a Present from ever-leaving unwelcome shadows. One foot of yours seems to be stuck on shore. While another contemplates a leap to the tides. I’m not saying to forget. I’m saying to swim with your knowledge and experience, forward, forward, forgiving forward.” Her words didn’t instantaneously make a difference, but they were making-brief dents. Never-valuing or understood forgiveness especially towards one-self. Wasn't it easier to quickly throw down the hatch a few-pints of bottomless ale, hasten numbness? No-one wanted to confront-this, or themselves. Burdened with confronting our own burdens. Pain happens when caring. In-the-deep the rulers residing; sharks swam in this manner. Forward, never deterring. It’s all they knew, otherwise they lose breathing, resulting in death. Yet they reigned and exhibited lessons. Captain felt a lighter-sense of him wasn’t an instantaneous recovery but a progressive, steadied one. “Thanks Slafhota, I’ll see ye’ n’ Seven Sun’s same time, aye?” For first-session, it already felt like a right-step towards entering that tide becoming a king of his depth.

[minarcana]

coughs blood i havent forgotten this blog i swear i prommy

[crystallineconflict]

ONE PROMPT LEFT... I WROTE EVERY DAY...!!!!!!!!!!!!

[lavampira]

tempted to scrounge up a fun little one word prompt list tbh

[fistsoflightning]

01 | TAKE THE WHEEL

ffxivwrite2024 01: STEER to control the course of; to be subject to steering

desperate times call for desperate measures. atalanta & a monster. 1390 wc.

It took her a small eternity to work out how to open her eyes, mostly because she couldn't remember how the muscles in her face were connected or how many eyes she had to begin with. Or eyelids. She was used to having transparent ones, not this—solid nonsense that left you vulnerable. How useless. And when she finally got them open she couldn't even tell she had managed it for several minutes because these eyes were no better than a nychterida's. It looked just as dark as when she had her eyes closed, black as death and no less cold. The only reason she could tell she was in a cavern was the roughness of the stone beneath her hands, the curve of the wall pressing into her back. Everything in her burned and ached the longer she stared into it.

She was alive. Returned to the land of the living after so long.

Then she realized what must have brought her here and a much sharper feeling started to bubble in her blood.

"You little coward," she roared, an awful ache in her throat revealing itself as she did. What came from her mouth barely sounded like words. Forget that. Forget everything she'd thought before. None of that pissed her off more than Them. She tried to leave, to claw deep down inside her—inside Their body and rip until They were forced to wake up, to take it back, take it all back, but in her fury she lost control. Every muscle spasmed. Ligaments groaned. It was only when something snapped that she grit Their teeth and stopped herself before anything more permanent occurred. The satisfaction wasn't worth the retribution she'd earn—though, if she did it right, ruined just enough…

"Alright, monster, listen close."

She froze at the sound of Their voice accompanied by a flickering light, confused and afraid. By this point she'd tipped Their body over from its seat by the wall, cheek pressed to cold and damp cave-floor as blood dribbled from the mouth, and a terrible feeling came over her; she'd been tricked, she'd been lured out to slaughter, she was in a different body and They were in the shadows ready to be free of her for good.

But Their voice came again, in perfect time with the light, and she heard it: fear.

"Don't go getting any clever ideas. You're only here because I let you," They said, and there—a tremble, a pause for a deep breath. That was a thing They did to stay calm, wasn't it? She copied them, a slow in-out-in-out through Their mouth, and most of the burning feeling everywhere dissipated, which was strange. "And before you start tearing me apart, you're not here for anything but to sit here. Right here. Get back up, you melon, before you get me ill from all the… cave dirt. Or what have you."

In a stubborn fit, she tried to stay still, but something in her coiled tighter the longer she laid on the floor. Maybe it was already too late to not be infected, or some manner of spell to compel her. Either way, she got up.

As she did, clumsily bending one arm to brush the sharp pebbles off Their face, she saw it—she saw Their sword, glowing to the rhythm of Their voice. It had been stabbed into the floor clumsily, at an angle that threatened to tip over the longer it remained that way. But it stood, and if she focused, she could clench Their hands and feel the exact way the sword's handle would fit.

"In the interest of curbing any rebellion, I might as well explain what you missed."

She groaned. "Just because I reside within you doesn't make me blind," she said. "I know already, you—"

But They couldn't hear them, or at least Their spellwork couldn't. "In the process of aiding Azem with this week's disaster, there was an earthquake. Or a landslide? Can't seem to recall the word. Either or works for you, I suppose. I got caught, and then—I was. Here." Pause. "I think I fell through somewhere I wasn't supposed to. They warned us—the village. To create, they convert aether from the abundance of crystals grown underground, instead of putting their own aether into the already-dense aetheric atmosphere of their home. They said they were trying not to give the wildlife anything more to gorge on. Creative of them. Wish I could manage even that."

"Haven't you done enough?" she grumbled. Not only had she been unceremoniously dragged here, but now she was forced to listen to more of their moping? Was it not enough that she had already personalized her own little space in hell? "I'm sitting right here."

Pause. Pause.

"I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry. For the rambling and what I've done."

She blinked. Once, then twice. That was… new. Her memory was blurred, terribly so, but in all her time she couldn't ever recall anyone knowing of her and apologizing.

Their words started gaining speed. "If I were better, maybe you wouldn't be stuck down here in the dark with me. Just my luck I fell into one of the emptied caverns. It's so dark. I can't think here. So in a desperate act, I forced this on you. To think. I'll come back when I've got something. All you need to do is stay here and—not break anything. Please. I'll make it up to you, find anything you want, get your revenge twice over, just—" Deep breaths. She could feel the last remants of Their panic still running through Their blood. "Don't make me come back until I'm ready."

She watched the sword carefully as the last few sparks of aether conveying Their voice guttered out and left her in the dark for good. It was still there, a short distance from where They had abandoned their body in cowardice.

But she knew that fear intimately, didn't she. Some amount of satisfaction rose in her knowing that They were no stronger against it than she was.

And—They were sorry.

Careful of the thing in Their back she had pulled too hard earlier, she got up from her seat and stumbled over to the sword. There was no telling in the void-black darkness where the handle met the blade, and she misplaced Their hands, but it did not cut. She smiled when she finally set Their hands in the correct place, the barely-there callouses feeling at home on the grip. Her approximation of a smile must have looked strange—all teeth and pulled too tight, but who was here to see? What mattered was that it felt good.

"My turn to talk, abomination. And I know you can hear me," she growled, though she tried hard not to ruin anything this time. Who was she to ruin what she'd been offered? "You're as much a fool as the rest if you believe I'd just sit here in the dark until you come to collect. And couldn't you have thought to ask my opinion with all your intelligence, instead of so rudely dragging me out?" She paused. "Though I have to admire your cleverness. Your body is a mess, but I've not had one in an age. What a wonder it is to feel. We should do this more often."

Her old senses were rusted, but having to listen to Them talk had given them time to line up alongside Their senses. The dark remained as it was, but the body had other ways to discern its surroundings, and They had given her a clue. If she were any other being, it would have been useless. But she had spent countless years in a 'dense aetheric atmosphere' and could tell apart ambient from living by smell alone; there was at least one thing underground with her, and if she could find it, make it afraid, make it want nothing more than to escape her, then maybe it would run to the surface. Leave a path to follow.

Better than than to sit here. She pried the sword from its resting place and hefted it onto her shoulders.

"I've no desire to be trapped down here any more than you do," she said, "so let's get out of here, 'Atalanta'."

[steak-n-popotoes]

look if I'm writing about XIV I will listen to cutscene appropriate music to help me set the tone, and that means if I'm gonna be lore dumping then by god I will listen to Machinations

[soaring-minuet]

I Have Loved You For a Thousand Years.

Pairing: Deryk/OFC, Oschon/OFC

Rating: Explicit (for later chapters)

Warnings: Depictions of Mental Illness - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and Survivor's Guilt

I'll love you for a thousand more. And all along I believed I would find you. Time has brought your heart to me. ____________________ When Deryk stumbled upon the mortal whose life he had saved as a child at the behest of Mephina, he simply thought that the precious gift he gave her was simply one of not wanting to see a cherished follower of his die. But the truth will lead him down an unexpected path, one that he never believed he would possibly find again...and one that will make carrying out his final duty all the more difficult.

Prologue.

One.

Two.

Also on AO3.

[shadowed-vigil]

day 29: lapse - free day

verb: come to an end. characters: paulecrain de fanouilley, warrior of light

word count: 664 notes: endwalker spoilers. one last night before the end of the world. 

It doesn’t take him long to notice her missing. 

As much as Grinnaux may feign disinterest when it comes to the Warrior of Light and her whereabouts, Paulecrain can tell the other man notices her absence, too; not enough to make actual mention of it, certainly not enough to want to do anything about it. 

Paulecrain, though — 

He doesn’t find her down by the docks like he expects, like the last time, but she’s still by the sea — just higher, perched up on the cliffside that juts above the Last Stand. He knows she hears him coming by the twitch of her ears, the flick of her tail — the half-glance she steals back over her shoulder. There’s no widening of her eyes, no flex of her hand. She regards him plainly, and that’s how he knows.

She says nothing as he situates himself beside her. He presses his palms down against the cool earth, listens to the wind rustling through the leaves of the trees. The steady inhale, exhale, from the woman beside him.

Eventually, he speaks up.

“It seems you had quite the day.” 

She doesn’t laugh, but he casts her a sidelong glance and catches the curve of her mouth, the ghost of a smile, her gaze steadfast along the horizon. 

“When do I not?” 

Which, fair. He hums.

“Not enjoying the party?” 

“...It isn’t that.” 

(He knows that, too, but —)

“I’m surprised you’re here,” she says by way of gentle deflection. 

“I don’t have to be, if you’d rather I not.” 

“I don’t mind.” 

It’s the unspoken conversation between them that has him pause. There’s that invisible barrier again, a wall that seems impenetrable when they’re this close. He can’t help but think of the memory — her hand on his thigh, his arm looped around her. Can still feel the brush of her nose against his, back down at the docks. 

(Maybe that’s why she chose to steal away here instead. A reminder, a reinforcement of what lines not to cross.)

“I’ve been thinking about Azys Lla,” she says, finally.

Ah. Perhaps a few lines still yet to cross. 

She goes on, “If you two survived, there’s no reason to think that the others did not.” 

Paulecrain agrees, but there’s been no word, no news. They would have been too conspicuous holed up together, all twelve of them; it hadn’t been a formal decision to scatter, no time, no choice, but —

“When you do return to Ishgard, I assume the rest will come out of the woodwork. I trust you’ll pass along my apologies.”

You’ve nothing to apologize for. 

“You can tell them yourself.” 

She hums. “Perhaps. Although, who knows when I’ll be in Ishgard proper again.” 

“When you talk with Aymeric.” 

It earns him a chuckle. “That should be a quick enough meeting, if I’ve anything to say about it. And I’m certain I’ll have other places to be besides.” 

“So quick to scamper off again, even after saving the star?” 

“I’ll have to actually do that, first.” 

“Won’t you?” 

“Of course,” but it comes out too quick, too petulant, too — 

He looks at her and catches the furrow of her brow, the set of her jaw. The wind ruffles her hair and his first compulsion is to raise a hand to smooth it, to tuck it back into place. 

“I’m glad you two at least had each other,” she finally says. “In the aftermath. It would have been worse to be lonely.” 

It was worse, she doesn’t say. The words hang in the silence all the same.

He ignores the proverbial barrier as he leans over, pressing a kiss to the top of her head; some small bargain, something he does in lieu of what he’d prefer to do instead. He has spent so much of his life wanting, both in the before and the after. Here and now, he supposes this is nothing new. 

Arcelia shivers. If her fingers brush up against his, he’s certain it’s by accident. 

[queenofnohr]

i forgor to post my last couple writes but i have been doing them

Title: love. Prompt: shade Rating: G Tags/Warnings: none Pairing: gen Word Count: 140 Summary: The Winter Queen isn't as alone as she thinks.

Title: tulip breaking virus Prompt: stamp Rating: E Tags/Warnings: sexual abuse against a minor, incest Pairing: i wouldn't call it a pairing but it's odeline and her dad Word Count: 860 Summary: Odeline wants to help her father.

Title: unfinished verse Prompt: on cloud nine Rating: G Tags/Warnings: none Pairing: wol/wol Word Count: 505 Summary: There's a song Odeline just can't remember.

Title: safe harbor Prompt: bar Rating: G Tags/Warnings: might be deeply uncomfortable if you've read all my writes Pairing: none Word Count: 135 Summary: Odeline takes a bath.

[lady-protector]

hi I wrote a thing.

[thorneyes]

FFXIV Write Masterpost Link

Going to be giving this a shot! If the first prompt hasn't crossed your dash yet, things are started over here.

I won't be sharing these daily to take the pressure off myself to finish Everything, but I'll be keeping the gdoc public as September goes on, and once I've cleaned the pieces up a little I might post them directly here, since they'll all end up being OC-based. You can find my entries here, if you've got some spare time and want to read.

[shroudandsands]

Prompt #30: Amity

She’d found it. It took interrogating two unwilling duskwights and a number of nights crawling club after bar after venue after concert- But she found it.

It was a name at first. Two names. The first she didn’t care about. The headliner of the two, sure, and probably the more vocal- Was that on purpose? Was that a game? What was he doing out here? Apparently music... no matter how little that fit the man she knew. How little it fit Walker. He was meant for more. To waste it playing tunes to people half-drunk in the dark... It didn’t make sense. And that was the only reason she gave the first name any glance at all. ‘Sif.’ The woman who she had seen reports for alongside him. Various minor, unrelated things. Unimportant things. Unfitting, unbecoming, and most definitely uninteresting. So why? The shows, the shadow of a nobody, the usage of a name that wasn’t his. Something wasn’t adding up. This wasn’t like him. Not one bit.

It took her more days than she’d like to admit to track anything down further from there. The two of them had seemingly dropped off the face of the star. Whether that was distinctly Walker acting as he always did or something else having gotten to them she wasn’t sure. But they would have to resurface at some point. They were, likely, reliant on this for income... If Walker was acting that deeply under his cover, at least. O’noh frowned as she stared out at the musicians, as she stared at the crowd. They weren’t here tonight. Not attending, not playing. But this was one of their normal haunts. Their names on lips, their mark left behind in the presence. She couldn’t quite believe some descriptions of the two. Two homeless vagabonds. Always together. Always inseparable. Except for the late of the night, except for some of the days. When Sif was alone. It was likely her chance. It was her only chance. She had to find him. She had to.

--

Dugald sneezed as he settled in for the night. As Sif settled in for the night. It was a warm enough night piercing through the encroaching autumn that they could forgo some of the niceties. Just them, just a blanket, just a tent. The rest set aside. A welcome relief in the midst of long nights. They were tired in the way that one might fall into a haze. One without words or thoughts or anything beyond the bare minimum. The automatic. Sif was in his arms and she was laid up against him.

His head would jerk back upright every so often in its futile fight against sleep. No following smoke trails into the stars, no nightmares to push their way into the space between, no crawling legs to force him to move. Just a calm, warm night. Just the two. Just this. He wondered when it happened. Not how. Not why. Just when. He dimmed that lantern as he held it close. She kept him warm. He slept dreamlessly that night. A mercy after all of it. A mercy before all of it.