doctorlaelia-ffxiv

[doctorlaelia-ffxiv]

pressure.

I was never a nervous creature. My hands were always steady and my steps were always sure, even as a child. The adults around me lauded me as fearless and ferocious, staring down the bigger boys in the playground. The truth is, though, is that I didn’t have a choice.

My shoulders always needed to be sturdier than most. 

I was six when Julia was born, eight when Cassia was. Both of them were angels with their big eyes and pouty lips. Julia had only wisps of bright white hair where Cassia was born with a head full of dark curls. Cassia’s eyes were dark and sharp from the start, her expression skeptical from the moment she left the womb, and Julia was always all smiles and giggles and round cheeks. 

As soon as they were born, I knew they needed me. My mother made that much clear, as she smiled in an afterglow that comes after the pangs of labor. Her hands ran over my hair while she cradled my baby sisters.

“I’m so glad I have you to help me,” she had said. “Your papa is always so busy. It’s so good that she’ll have such a good big sister to take care of her.”

It was exciting. It was a big responsibility, but one that I was eager to take on, at first. I was the big sister! Of course it was up to me to take good care of them. Of course, it would always be my duty to look after my baby sisters. 

Of course, childhood me didn’t know how hard it would be. But I wouldn’t have asked. I never asked how hard the work was going to be, not when it came to schoolwork or chores or practice in the arts. I could do anything. I could do everything without faltering. It’s what was expected. It was what my mother needed from me, it was what made her happy with me. And I needed her to be happy with me. I needed her approval. 

And my little sisters needed me to have her approval.

I remember my mother storming into my bedroom as I was undressing after a party, shouting at her to knock, but she grabbed my arm. She forced me to turn around, her porcelain blue eyes huge and horrified as she held a pamphlet up in my face, and I blinked until I was able to read it.

‘Laelia lux Caelius, Member of the Populares? Insider News Inside!’ 

“What is this?” my mother had hissed at me, and I had taken a breath, taken the pamphlet from her hand when she let me go. She was saying things, things that I couldn’t clearly hear, as I rustled through the pages, my heart in my throat and my mind racing as I read the words printed.

“According to an anonymous source, Laelia lux Caelius, eldest daughter to Remus van Caelius and Claudia fae Caelius, was allegedly seen at a Populares rally alongside her younger sister, Julia cen Caelius...”

It feels like the words are blurring as I try to read them. My beliefs weren’t something that I was ashamed of, but I had always kept them under wraps. On the surface, I supported the Emperor. My family always had. They had used my likeness in Garlean propaganda, drawn my face and my Garlean hospital uniform and printed it into pamphlets like these, alongside other young, recognizable Garleans - those who had achieved gigantic feats like me. 

It was supposed to have been safe. We went late at night. Julia had insisted on it. I had insisted against it, but she had been exploring her own political beliefs. Cassia was already a staunch supporter of the Populares, and hearing Cassia and me discussing it, after listening to us expose how truly corrupt and evil the Empire itself was...

I buckled. I took her. I wanted her to see what it was really like, what the members of the Populares were like. She already loved the Benes family. She had a taste. But it was supposed to be safe. Who had seen us? Who had reported on seeing us, and did they have a recording of our voices--

I am shaken back to reality by my mother shouting my name, and I swallow. For once, my hands shake, but just slightly, until I force them to still.

“How are you going to fix this? The authorities have already contacted your father. There’s going to be an investigation if there is not a statement made! Your father is at risk of losing his position if this ends up true!” 

“Let me think,” I whisper, slowly setting the pamphlet down on my desk. “Just... Let me think. The stars aren’t falling, mother. There’s a solution to this.”

Drama. Always drama. Always flying into a fit, always making everything sound worse than it truly is. I tilt my head. I swallow. Julia must have already seen, because as I’m trying to gather my thoughts, she’s flying into my room next, her eyes huge and terrified with Cassia trailing after her - slower, always more cautiously, glancing between our hysterical mother and me. 

“Laelia...” Julia starts tearfully, weaving around my mother to latch onto me instead. “This is bad. This is so bad! How did they see us--?”

“Breathe,” I tell her, reaching for her golden hair, brushing it behind her ears, and smiling. “Your big sister has got this. Don’t I always?” 

“And how do you have it this time?” Cassia asks me quietly, and I look across the room to her. She watches my face with laser focus, and if I didn’t know her like the back of my own hand, I would think that she’s angry. But she isn’t.

Cassia is afraid. She’s afraid of what’s going to happen. 

“What are you going to sacrifice this time to cover for us?” The more she speaks, the harder the edge in her voice grows. “Are you going to give in to what Mother wants? Are you going to enlist?” 

I glance down at the pamphlet. There had already been rumors of my own loyalty to the Populares. I had been able to kill them, to nip them at the bud, with a pretty statement and a promise that my loyalty to was Garlemald and its loyal patriots. But the more the rumors grow, the harder they are to kill. We had attended the rally just the night before, and the papers were already out. There were already talks of investigations. 

If it was allowed to go any further, my family would be ruined, and it would be my fault. I should have been more cautious. I shouldn’t have bent to Julia’s pleas. It was my job to take care of her, not to put her in more danger. 

“Go wait in the sitting room, girls,” I say, and I feel like my mother should be saying it instead of staring at me with the same eyes as Cassia - hard and demanding answers, childish in their frustration. “Let me talk to our mother in private for a while, please.”

Julia is still clinging to my sleeve. Her eyes are overflowing with tears, falling thick and fast onto the silk of her blouse. 

“You are,” she whispers. “You’re going to enlist, aren’t you? You can’t! You can’t! They’ll-- they’ll make you do horrible things, things you don’t believe in-- Laelia, please, you can’t--”

I can’t bring myself to look at her. Cassia pulls her, wailing, out of the room, and I slowly lift my eyes back up to my mother. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were the one who sent people after us,” I tell her quietly, trying to ignore the ache in the back of my throat over seeing Julia sob and beg like that. “You know exactly what I’m going to say, don’t you?”

“Well, how else do you propose you solve this, Laelia? A civilian doctor is good, but it proves nothing about where your loyalties lie! You became a doctor at the age of a child - that doesn’t mean anything. Nothing of substance.” 

“I busted my ass bringing fame and glory to this family, mother, and you don’t think that means anything--? I became a poster child for this Empire, and you think I haven’t done enough?” 

I don’t let myself shout. I never shout. But I can feel a vein throbbing in my neck beneath the strand of pearls I’m wearing, can feel the heat crawling into my tone, as I lift my eyes up to my mother in her ballgown again. The pamphlet has been crumpled into my fist without realizing my fingers were tensing, and I let it go like it’s burning me, force myself to take a breath once more. 

“You can’t get by on old accomplishments, you spoiled little creature,” Claudia fae Caelius spits, and I actually breathe out a laugh.

Spoiled.

Spoiled, watching Julia get a harp the day after my father smashed my piano. Spoiled, with my father ripping apart a costume I was excited to wear to a party and slashing my back in the process. Spoiled, raising two younger sisters, spoiled always going last, spoiled for being slapped any time my grades slipped, spoiled--

“You know, enlisting might be a shitshow, but it would be a far cry better from being around you,” I say, and my voice is still level. It’s still quiet. But there’s venom in it, and I watch my mother physically recoil. “It would be better than sitting and rotting in this country, in this Empire, because who knows? Maybe I could just fucking run. Maybe I’ll help both sides. And how bad would that look for you, if it came out that way, mother?” 

“Laelia Tatiana Caelius--” she starts, her voice horrified, and I smile.

“No. You’re right. It’s a great solution. The eldest daughter, who gave up everything, giving up the last bit of her free will to protect you all, because I’m the only one who can. Gods know you can’t. You’re a senator, a politician, who can’t fix this for your children. But if it was just Julia...”

I stop myself there. This isn’t Julia’s fault. I’m not angry at Julia. I’m angry at our mother, and I’m angry at myself, and at the situation, but never at Julia. Never at Cassia. They need me. 

They need me to do something drastic to make sure no one ever hurt them. 

I let my mother storm out of my room, crying and hurt at my audacity. I sit up all night watching the snow fall in just my smallclothes, tearing the pamphlet to tiny pieces. I listen to the sound of my father shouting until I turn up the radio to drown him out.

I gave up music. I gave up the theater. I gave up a love life. I lost a baby. What was one more loss when there were so few wins? What was one more sacrifice to make sure my younger sisters never had to be afraid of anything bad happening to them? 

The Caelius family couldn’t be anything but loyal to the Empire. I would be the posterchild until the day I died. That was my resolve, that night. I would never give the Empire the opportunity to question us again. Maybe I just wanted to get away. Maybe I just wanted to stop being an anchor in a stormy sea. Maybe I was tired. Maybe I was suicidal. Maybe I had finally gone mad. 

I enlisted in the Garlean military the next day. In a week, I had received my posting. Julia had screamed and begged me not to go, had fallen to her knees to apologize, and Cassia had been angry. I bore it all, as I always had.

Anything for them. For them, I could do anything at all. Even if they hated me for it. Even if they resented me for it. Even if Cassia slammed her door and refused to hug me goodbye... even if Julia had stained my favorite white coat with her makeup... Even if I had to compromise everything I believed in...

I would do everything, because they needed me to. I couldn’t even find the time to be afraid between trying to comfort Julia and bearing Cassia’s anger and resentment. I couldn’t pencil in fearing for my own life until I got to Doma, until I arrived and realized that I had made the most selfless and most awful choice, fighting in a war that I didn’t believe in.

I guess I always did have a flair for the dramatic, faking my own death and all at the end. But it was for the best, wasn’t it? No one could accuse me, then. No one could use my family against me then. They were safe from my rumors and my scandals. They could mourn, and they could move on.

Couldn’t they? 

#rusty ugh #ffxiv #writing #ffxiv rp #ff14 rp #tw death mention #tw mommy issues

[doctorlaelia-ffxiv]

never let you go - part 2.

[[ read part one >here!< @benes-diction for mentions of the Beanies! ]]

I allowed Cato Lucretius to start officially courting me come spring in Garlemald... which doesn’t mean much, and does little to make dents in the snow, but it still felt warmer, somehow. His presence was warm. At times, he was like the soft glow of a candle in a dark room, providing a sense of safety and comfort. Other times, he glowed so brightly that I thought that he might be a supernova, too big for this world altogether. 

To say that I was in love with him would be a difficult thing. I was very fond of him, for a while. We got along tremendously well, and he was good at making me laugh. Our honeymoon period was sweet, and friends sighed over what a lovely pair we were, and I agreed with them. Cato Lucretius was a perfectly amiable, enjoyable sort of man to be around, who gave excellent kisses and was an attentive sort of lover, who could provide conversation that stimulated the mind and be a quiet place to rest, too. 

At least, at first. All that glitters is not gold. Sometimes it’s just a very pretty plating put over something rusty. 

In the summer, Cato Lucretius invited me to move into his apartment on the outskirts of the university we both attended. He was a literature major with a schedule that was far less packed than mine, considering I was still taking classes while conducting my residency at the hospital to enter into neurosurgery . But it worked, I suppose. He was something of a “house boyfriend,” you could call it. He made meals and kept our shared space clean, ran hot baths when I had a long day at work, would call me on the nights I couldn’t return. And he made a point of bringing me on dates, where we were able to make time for it, to expensive restaurants and pretty museums and lush greenhouses and towering libraries. 

Being old money from Garlemald came with a bit of status that Cato Lucretius frequently enjoyed. He liked the balls and the parties, and he enjoyed the luxuries of the finest foods and wines, and he liked to talk, very much, about the plights of our countrymen in a senseless war for a government that only wanted dominion rather than peace... and his words were pretty. They were nice to listen to. He could be fantastically passionate about things, he could grab a whole room’s attention with his vivacity and silver tongue, and I enjoyed listening to him on those summer evenings where the world felt like it belonged to us. 

For the first time in a long time, I was happy. I was twenty and finishing the last leg of my residency - the youngest in generations in Garlemald to achieve such a high position so quickly. It was an honor. It was a feat, of countless sleepless nights and many frustrated tears and many, many joyous victories. And Cato Lucretius would stay up with me, during the time we were together, to celebrate or to mourn, respectively. And then things just... started to feel like they were shifting. I remember it starting to feel different in the autumn.

The warmth was starting to fade, like it was chasing the seasons. 

“You’re brilliant,” Cato Lucretius would tell me as he smiled, as he brushed my hair from my forehead as I nursed a glass of something strong on a rare day off. “You’re the smartest person on this star, Laelia.” 

He said it so frequently. At first, I thought it was sweet. I liked being acknowledged for my accomplishments more than my looks. It didn’t feel like he looked at me like a piece of meat. To him, I was his equal - more than his equal. And that, maybe, was the problem. Cato Lucretius was putting me on a pedestal I didn’t try to get onto, and slowly... Slowly, but surely, it started to tarnish the way that he looked at me. 

“You never have time for me.”

That was how it started. It caught me off guard, as we stood in the kitchen and made dinner together. He was leaning against the counter and staring at the floor as he sipped from his whiskey glass, one hand braced behind him with the sleeves of his red sweater pushed up. 

“I always try to make time for you,” I had told him, and I had frowned, because I was confused. I was... I am a person that grew up quickly. There were intricacies in people’s words and meanings that I wasn’t able to pick up on at the age of twenty, when my whole life had been dedicated to how brain functions but not, exactly, the emotions that run through them, too. 

“But it never works out, does it?” Cato Lucretius shot back, looking at me with pained and angry eyes. “When’s the last time we got to go out? You said you would come with me to my colleague’s party the other night. And you forgot, didn’t you?” 

Accusation after accusation as I stood there with a ladle in my hand and my lips parted, because yes. Yes, I had forgotten. But I hadn’t meant to. The day he was referencing was nonstop. I hadn’t even been able to come back to the apartment between surgeries. Older, wiser me would have been able to do something, to put this man in his place. Twenty year old Laelia just wasn’t sure what was happening or what she had done to make him so angry.

“Yes,” she had said, and that’s what it feels like, as I think about this turning point of a night now - like I’m watching in third person. “Yes, I forgot, but... but I told you that I wasn’t able to leave, Cato. I’m very sorry, I didn’t realize that it was so important to you, but--”

“I’m making a big deal out of it, aren’t I?” And just as quickly as he had been angry, he was smiling at me, and I felt... unsettled, in a word. “I’m sorry, Laelia. Forgive me. I suppose I must have had a bad day today.”

Whiplash. That was the day it started - or, at least, the day I began to notice it starting. Cato Lucretius was changing in how he spoke to me, in how he looked at me, and so was the regard he held me in. What was once my ‘brilliance’ was my ‘cockiness,’ and what was my dedication to my work was a force driving us apart, no matter how hard I tried to yield to his requests. 

And all the while, this man was starting to fail his classes. Professors were sending back essays with bundles of criticism. He was slipping up, and the golden boy with the flawless smile that I met at the ball in the winter was now beginning to lose his gentleness and his geniality, unless he was drinking. And when he drank, all the venom he felt for me would come spewing out.

“You think you’re so smart,” he would sneer as he slouched in his chair by the fire. “You made a big splash, and now you think you’re too good for anyone, don’t you? What’s going on that has you out at all hours? Are you having an affair?” 

“That’s enough,” I had snapped, slamming my glass down on the counter. He raised his voice at me, and I raised mine. Our fights became infamous in the apartment building. I had never been the type to shout. That wasn’t the way to get a point across, but no one infuriated - and hurt me - like Cato Lucretius did. He made my ice turn to fire, my quiet and composed way of dealing with things seem unhinged and furious. 

And it was becoming clearer and clearer that any support he had for the Populares was... surface level. Certainly, he was prepared to speak out against the oppressive government, but... I have to wonder if that’s because it was the popular opinion amongst our circle. He clung to his status and the wealth of his parents in a desperate sort of way. I often wonder how much of anything he spoke passionately about that he really meant, and how much of it was manipulation to make him look good. I fear that the answer would be troubling and disheartening both. 

A warm, sunlit garden that we had planted in the spring was starting to die come the fall. Our honeymoon period was over, and I didn’t know what to do.

Many times, Cato Lucretius would coerce me into bed, to have sex that was angry and rough, that screamed that we hated each other in those moments. I never really said ‘yes.’ I just gave in to his nagging, to make him be quiet, to stop accusing me of affairs that didn’t exist.

“If you loved me...”

He loved that one. ‘If you loved me, you’ll sleep with me. If you loved me, you’d make more time. If you loved me, you would stop asking me where I go late at night.’ ‘If I have to trust you, don’t you have to trust me?’

The difference is that I never came home smelling of someone else’s perfume or cologne like he did, or with a wine that he didn’t drink still clinging to my lips. 

Giving up Cato Lucretius was difficult. He was nowhere near as creatively gifted as he wanted to be, and if I’m being honest with myself, I have to wonder if the vague similarities he shared with my Cato are what made me stay. They wrote, and they were both like light - even if Cato Lucretius’ light was rapidly fading - and they both, at one time, made me feel safe. 

I remember curling up on the bathroom floor and simply sobbing into my arms, overcome with a grief that was too unbearable to speak aloud. More often than not, I would say Cato Lucretius’ name and think of Cato Benes - of the soldier boy who had paid the ultimate price, of the one in all of my dreams, who dried my tears when I slept and told me everything would be alright. 

Often, as things got more difficult in my relationship, I dreamt of that farewell ball for Cato rem Benes. I dreamt it over and over again - arriving late and anonymous in a beautiful gown, and making him laugh, all with the knowledge of what was to come that I was forbidden to speak. And the dreams ended the same - me, forcing myself to leave Cato rem Benes alone on a balcony before collapsing in the gardens and being overcome with grief.

Those are the dreams I would wake from in tears, sometimes screaming my anguish, begging to please just bring me back to that night, so that I could tell him not to go, to plead and block him from his departure if I had to--

And it was easy to lie to Cato Lucretius about when I screamed the name ‘Cato,’ because I could tell him I was having nightmares of something terrible happening to him. But maybe part of him knew. Maybe a part of him had always known that my heart was never fully with him. 

I still don’t think, though, that I deserved his cruelty for it. I was young, and inexperienced in so many things, and mourning the loss of someone who had so deeply impacted me as a young girl. Even seeing Cato rem Benes’ parents were difficult. Seeing Lucius in a hospital, or sitting and listening to one of Theodosia’s performances... I always kept up with them - quietly, and in the shadows, but I tried to. My heart broke to hear the stories of what Caius was becoming. I wept bitterly when Solina left, knowing how deeply the family hurt when their children hurt, knowing just how the loss of Cato rem Benes had affected him. 

And there was a part of me that felt like it knew more, too, like... I could sense something in the future. Of course, I was a woman of science. Looking back, yes - in a strange way, and thanks to kami meddling, I did know. I knew the painful endings and the happy endings both, but to not be able to explain those feelings was often agonizing. And the more my relationship with Cato Lucretius began to fraction, the more I felt it. 

The more I felt that something just hadn’t ended right, that a book that was meant to be closed had simply been paused. 

The day I found his love letters from another woman beneath our bed and his collar stained with a coral lipstick that I wouldn’t wear came almost as a relief. Of course, it broke my heart. Spring had come around again, with a surprising melt in the snow. We had spent a year around each other, committed to each other - or, at least, one of us had been committed to the other. When I asked how long, just how long had he been betraying my trust, he was vague. When I asked how many times, he had simply shrugged, staring into the fire. 

“How many hours were you too busy being brilliant to give me?”

“You’re casting yourself as dependent and lonely to get out of being accountable for being a dickhead,” I had told him, tossing the letters that he’d so obviously read over and over directly into the fire. “For being the worst of men.” 

“We could try to fix this, Laelia,” he had said, running his hands over his face before standing up to face me, to try to reach out to me. “I messed up, darling. I messed up so badly, but if you give me another chance--”

“Haven’t you heard, Lucretius?” I asked him, smiling. “Goodness, I thought you would have, but... I simply just don’t have the time to give you that. I have very brilliant and much more important things to be doing than wasting my godsdamned time on this - you manipulative, lying, tiny pricked bastard.” 

When I slammed that apartment door with a box of my things in my arms with that man crying like an infant, it was liberating. I was free of his cruelty and his coercion. I suppose I could thank him, though, for the beginnings of the spine that I became so famous for.

For the spine that Cato rem Benes will always love me for having. And Cato rem Benes is, was, and always will truly be spring - the true herald of new beginnings, of promises that the long winters would end into a blossoming, glowing new world. 

#ffxiv rp #ff14 rp #writing #tw relationship abuse #sort of #?

[doctorlaelia-ffxiv]

there are moments that the words don't reach. there is suffering too terrible to name.

#ffxiv screenshots #ff14 screenshots #hyur midlander #gpose #gposers #reshade #ffxiv #ff14 #screenshots #sad laelia hours

[doctorlaelia-ffxiv]

never let you go - part 1.

[[ tagging @benes-diction because i will never not be talking about her characters, i simply love them too much. ]] 

It was at an officer’s ball that I didn’t want to go to that I met Cato Lucretius.

A nurse named Antonia that I worked with insisted that we go. It was a ball on behalf of a friend of a friend, but she’d been invited all the same, and so had I. She was hungry to meet eligible young bachelors, and with - somehow - nothing on my schedule for me to use to hide behind, I yielded. 

We went. We did our hair and put on gowns, and I grimaced because I had promised that I’d never attend another ball after attending my own, celebrating my acceptance into my residency at the hospital. 

And maybe I shouldn’t have worn something made of silk in blue that shimmered and clung to my curves, with a neckline that plunged. Maybe I shouldn’t have worn my hair loose and put something that sparkled in it. Maybe I should haven’t dressed to the nines, but in truth, I’ve never known a different way to dress. When I painted my lips red and lined my eyes with black, I had no intention other than to look pretty. It was a shame, I think, that I had tried so hard, because I got all the attention that came with it.

I should have known that I would. 

Cato Lucretius was laughing with a group of his friends that knew my group of friends, and I felt his stormy ocean eyes on me for most of the night, even as I refused - on principal - the flutes of champagne that other men tried to give me. I wanted nothing other than to enjoy the evening and for it to go by quickly so that I could return to my books and to my work. 

“Laelia Caelius,” he said with a broad smile when he approached, and I noted that he had perfect teeth. There wasn’t a single one out of place or anything but sparkling white. I wondered if he was wearing veneers. And then I realized that he had said my name, and I raised my eyebrows.

“Have we met?” I asked, and his smile broadened, and I admit that I thought he looked terribly handsome, in an old money sort of way. His suit was well-fitted, and he was tall and broad-shouldered, with golden blonde hair that had been neatly combed and gelled back from his forehead. 

“I’m afraid I haven’t had the official honor, but everyone knows you, doctor. The ballroom has been flitting about since you walked in. It’s not often we all get to be in the presence of a prodigy,” he said, lowering his voice and winking at me before glancing at my hands. “Are you not drinking this evening?”

I didn’t want my heart to flutter when he winked, or at the low tone of his voice when he lowered it and leaned in towards me. It felt wrong. It wasn’t, of course. I was single. I was unattached. I was...

I was dangling and grasping onto a dream of a man that was dead, who couldn’t love me, who had only ever known me as a peer to his younger brother.

In truth, I thought myself pathetic. Looking back, maybe I just knew - I knew, in the back of my mind, that our book wasn’t shut. I knew that there was a part of me that belonged to a dead man. Maybe a part of me knew that I hadn’t, somehow, seen the last of him. But I was a woman of science before I was one of faith. And, by all accounts, Cato rem Benes was dead, and I could not exist on fumes and dreams and heart ache.

“I’m not drinking,” I confirmed, smiling back a little. “I don’t drink champagne during military balls, or toast to those going off to fight. You never know if you’re toasting to their deaths or not.”

The blonde man laughed, and the sound made me feel warm. It settled in my chest and seeped through my bones, and I laughed back, tilting my head.

“That’s an awfully morbid thought,” he told me, eyes glittering. “Poetic, though. Ah-- forgive me. I haven’t introduced myself.”

Shifting, he extended a large hand out to me, though it was soft. This man wasn’t a soldier or someone familiar with physical labor. I took his hand anyway, glancing back up at his face.

“My name is Cato Lucretius,” he said, and for a moment, it felt like my world had stopped. And maybe my face dropped, because this Cato tilted his head a little at me and looked down at our hands, then back up to my face.

“Ah,” he noised softly as he let go of me, slowly - reluctantly? “That’s right. You and your family were close to the Benes family at one time, weren’t they? It must have been quite a shock for you, with the tragic loss of their eldest...” 

I swallowed thickly and glanced down at our hands, too. They were only a couple of ilms from each other still, hovering in the air in a way that made the backs of our fingers brush against each other’s. He had no idea. He had no idea the suffering I had felt so deeply, for reasons I couldn’t clearly explain, or the way that I had wept and sobbed when I found out Cato Benes was dead. It felt like another part of me had been ripped away and buried. It felt like someone had reached into my chest and grabbed my heart and crushed it in their hand, and I couldn’t explain way. I couldn’t make any sort of sense out of it. 

Cato is dead, I told myself. You cannot be helpless forever. You cannot exist like this forever, in mourning while wearing blue and white.

When I looked back up at Cato Lucretius, I smiled in a way that I hoped looked demure, shifting my hand back to clasp it in front of me with my other. Over Cato Lucretius’ shoulder, I could see Antonia squinting at me, then at his back, and then beaming, giving me a big thumbs up.

“I admire Madame Benes a great deal for her accomplishments and support of the theater,” I murmured, dipping my head. “And mal Benes for the insurmountable amount he’s done for the medical community. I look up to them very much. They’ve always been very kind to me.” 

Cato Lucretius smiled at the answer I gave him, quietly refusing another flute of champagne by a passing waiter. His stormy gray eyes stayed on me and on me alone, fixated on my face. Even if I hadn’t had a drop to drink, my cheeks felt hot, and I was worried that my neck would begin to flush if I didn’t do something - if I didn’t move, or find an excuse to leave, or... anything. Something. 

“But you were to be bethrothed to their living son, weren’t you?” Cato Lucretius asked me, and I narrowed my eyes a little at him. He cleared his throat as I leveled the glare, dipping his head quickly.

“Forgive me. I don’t mean to pry, doctor. Please don’t misunderstand. It’s only that I couldn’t ask a woman spoken for to join me for dinner sometime,” he clarified, his voice velvety and low as he reached slowly for one of my hands again... and I swallowed again, my eyes still narrowed, but with less contempt. 

Cato Lucretius knew that he was handsome. I could tell that right away. His eyes were sharp and bright, and I knew that he was charming with everyone, not just with women he was trying to woo. The man oozed a certain sort of warmth and charisma that made people flock to him, as evidenced by the crowd of friends that had been gathered around him before he parted their numbers to come and speak to me instead. 

I took a breath, and I let myself smile, just slightly.

“No, sir. I am not in any sort of arrangement with Caius rem Benes or anyone else.”

 Cato Lucretius smiled, flashing his perfect teeth at me.

“You don’t strike me as a woman easily satisfied, Doctor Caelius,” he told me, and I couldn’t help but to laugh, acutely aware that he was still holding onto one of my hands so very gently with one of his. 

“Dear me, sir, what are you insinuating?” I fired back, unable to stop my smile from growing bigger with amusement, and Cato Lucretius laughed, too. He laughed, and it was such a warm, pretty sort of sound.

“I insinuate nothing other than that you are a strong, clever sort of woman who knows exactly what she wants. I believe we can be kindred spirits, in that regard, though you’re a thousand times more clever than I could ever hope to be.”

If only he had remembered that, or actually believed it.

“So what do you say?” he continued, bowing low at the waist and lifting my hand towards his lips as he glanced up at my face. “Will you grace a lowly writer such as myself with your company in the next sennight? I know your schedule must be busy, Doctor Caelius.” 

A writer. A writer. A writer. 

Who is this strange doppleganger of Cato Benes, and why do I not want to tell him ‘no’? Is it because he has bits of Cato Benes? Am I-...

Stop overthinking, Laelia.

“I’ll have to look at my schedule,” is what I said out loud, refusing to let the way I was panicking show on my face, that time. “But... I believe I can make time for you, Mr. Lucretius.” 

“You have given me the very best news I could hope to receive,” he said as he beamed a smile, brushing his lips against my knuckles softly before slowly straightening back up. “I do hope that I don’t disappoint.”

“As do I,” I teased, but oh.

Oh, if only I had known then what I know now.

#ffxiv rp #ff14 rp #ffxiv #ff14 #writing #cato squared #in this house we stan cato benes and cato benes ONLY

[doctorlaelia-ffxiv]

yes, no.

[[ tagging @benes-diction for mentions of her kids. <3 ]]

An unmarked letter, left with ink still bleeding and drying, in Laelia’s handwriting.

In truth, I do not know who I write this for.

Is it for Audrey, who I see trying to glow and feeling afraid that she flickers too much? Is it for Caius, unwavering in his love and support of the woman he has devoted his life to but who is also, I know, worried for her? Is it for Celia, waging a war against herself, waging a war against the people who seek to harm her family and herself? Is it for Cato - patient, dearest, darling Cato - who is forever long suffering when I am distant, when I work too much and can focus on nothing but medicine so I can ignore this gnawing emptiness?

Is it for me? Or is this a scream into the void for all of those most beloved to me? Will I hope Cassia or Julia finds this and knows that, through everything, I still had a soul? I had a heartbeat and survived and tried to live, even.

There are things I wish I had heard when I was younger, and things I wish I had taken more seriously. When my mother told me that the world would be unkind to women that are brilliant and fearless and bold, I don’t know why I thought she was exaggerating. When I saw injustice in the bloodied fields of Doma, of Nagxia, when I saw man pitted against his fellow man, is that when I should have stopped? Instead of quiet rebellion, should I have dug my heels in and screamed “no, no, no, this is wrong, this all wrong, this is evil”?

Hindsight is 20/20, even with a third eye, I suppose. There were many things in life I could have done differently. I did not always make the right choices. But the choices I did make are what lead me here, to where I am now, to this little family we have made in a strange land.

It lead me to Cato, to a man I had loved even long after he was dead.

If nothing else, I can be grateful for the choices that brought me to him.

I know that I’m rambling, that my thoughts are disconnected. But the point of this to begin with is something simple. It’s a reminder that we all need, sometimes.

And it’s to keep on living.

We will bleed. We will rust. We will get exhausted, and we will feel as though we are nothing more than frayed string at the end of a spool. This doesn’t mean we can stop. Breathe, yes - but stop, no.

#found this in my drafts #it feels relevant #ffxiv rp #ff14 rp #writing

[doctorlaelia-ffxiv]

‘tis the damn season.

“This is... an unexpected sort of meeting, lux-- Doctor. Miss Doctor. Madame Doctor?” 

Laelia leans back in her chair and raises a brow at the twitchy-looking yakuza seated opposite her. Still quiet, she gestures at the unopened bottle of wine sitting on the table, and the man blinks twice at her before he seems to understand just what he was being directed to do. 

“Ah-- right. Sorry, yes, of course--...”

Her expression is unchanging as she watches Mori Takahashi fumbling in his pocket for a knife to pull the cork out, but her voice... Even with the chill in the Limsan air, the drop in temperature around them might have been noticeable.

“There’s a bottle opener on the table,” she says, just barely loud enough to be audible, and Mori still flinches a little bit in his seat before looking to the bottle opener in question. 

“Right,” he mumbles, clearing his throat and reaching up with a finger to loosen his collar a little bit before glancing up at Laelia again. 

Gods. She was really as beautiful as he remembered, way back then in Doma, back when he only knew Misaki and Hana and Xiu was just a kid. And Laelia had been a lux, and it had only been through Xiu that he’d met the good doctor. She had been wearing a high ponytail back then, and a crisp white coat, and she had looked tired but... severe. Her eyes had been like ice and felt like they were peering right through him.

That, at least, hadn’t changed. Her hair fell in soft waves, now, like snowdrifts. There weren’t any noticeable bags beneath her eyes. Color was in her cheeks and in her lips and she had gained needed weight, and she wasn’t dressed like a doctor. She was glamorous. She was put together.

And she was downright terrifying, because her eyes were still like ice and they still felt like they were peering right through him, in a way similar to the way that Xiu’s did, but... different. Laelia had no warm, friendly history with him. They hadn’t gone out drinking and laughing in Kugane together. Xiu might have viewed him as a nuisance, an annoying fly, but it was altogether clear to Mori that Laelia viewed him far more as prey that she could easily crush beneath her red bottomed high heels. 

“So, you wanted to meet with me when you heard that I’d be in Eorzea...” Mori attempts, swallowing as Laelia reaches out and picks up the glass of wine that he’d poured out for her.

“I did,” she replies softly, watching him over the rim of the glass before placing it back down on the table and crossing her legs neatly. Even he knew better than to let his eyes stray to her thighs and the skirt around them, but the temptation was hard to resist. “Let’s not mince words or dance around the subject at hand, Mori. I want to discuss Audrey. Or do you know her better as Yuna?”

Fuck, Mori thinks.

Outwardly, he smiles politely and inclines his head, but... Laelia can see the slight tremor in his wrist when he reaches for his own glass of wine. 

The Limsan restaurant was expensive but quiet, that evening. People had opted to stay out of the snow and cuddle in with their loved ones, she assumed, to watch as it fell and stay warm. She wanted no such luxury, as soon as she heard from Xiu that Mori Takahashi would be landing in Limsa Lominsa that same evening. She had put on a pair of tall heels and expensive perfume and told Cato that she loved him, that she’d be back after handling a moron, and stepping out after kissing his cheek. 

The lipstick she wore hadn’t rubbed off on her lover’s cheek. It wasn’t about to make an imprint on a glass. As if. 

“I also don’t think I need to explain myself overmuch, Mr. Takahashi,” Laelia continues, leaning back again with her legs crossed and her drink in hand. “It’s an old story that we know all the words to. Your foolishness, selfishness, and poor decisions lead to a tragedy that could have been avoided. You took steps that you didn’t need to take after Misaki and I had already made a clear, concise plan, because you wanted to be a hero.” 

Mori can feel himself sinking into his chair without meaning to as he listens to each lash of the words that fall off the woman’s tongue, her eye contact unwavering and altogether unsettling. 

“And so forgive me for taking this opportunity to make something abundantly and overwhelming clear for you, sir.” 

Laelia takes a slow sip from her glass again as she watches him, silently daring him to interrupt or argue, but he doesn’t. Like a well trained dog, he knows better, she thinks. If only he’d known better a few years beforehand. 

“With the knowledge of your track record with young women with pretty faces and nice figures... Let me add to the many voices likely discouraging you from ever making an effort to meet Audrey,” she says, her voice low, and this time, Mori frowns. He frowns. 

“Ma’am, with all due respect, I don’t know if you have the authority to make that decision-- she’s Hana’s sister,” he attempts, only to be silenced by the soft way that Laelia places her glass down on the table and the way that she leans forward, ever so slightly. 

“You wanted Misaki more than you ever wanted Hana.” 

Even though it wasn’t the first time Mori heard it... It still felt like a firm slap to the face, that reminder. That horrible, awful, and honest reminder.

“Hana is dead,” Laelia continues, still watching his face. “Hana is dead because of choices that you made, Mr. Takahashi. What makes you believe that her younger sister, who was never presented an opportunity to meet Hana, would want anything to do with you to begin with? Audrey - Yuna - has been through hell, and she has walked back through it, over and over again. The last thing she needs is some little man chasing her coattails hoping to feel something that her cousin or sister made him feel.” 

Slap, slap, slap, slap. This was something that Mori understood from the day he met Laelia. She wouldn’t ever physically harm you, and she wasn’t one to raise her voice, but her words were like poison. The way she spoke was eloquent, painful, and she never did like beating around the bush. She liked getting straight to the point of things, damn your feelings.

“And trust me... If you don’t want to heed my advice on it, then I can assure you that her fiance - yes, fiance, try not to look so shocked or else you’ll give your motives away even more - will be even less kind about it if you go near her. Her father, her grandparents, her fiance’s family... And Audrey herself. I know you aren’t easily deterred, but I assure you that her future husband will have no qualms or concerns about dealing with you permanently if you upset her.”

Mori stared at Laelia as a server came about with the breadsticks and salads for their pre-meal. The young man smiles as he takes a small notebook from a pocket in his apron, bowing a little.

“Do you two know what you’d like for dinner this evening?” he asks brightly, and Laelia immediately switches. She smiles and Mori lets out a breath that he didn’t know he’d been holding as the ice melts from her face, as her eyes sparkle and plump lips curve, and even the server seems a little taken aback. 

“My apologies, but I believe I have business to attend to. The gentleman may be hungry. Please do put it on my tab if he decides to order something.”

“Y-Yes, miss!” the server squeaks, stepping to the side as Laelia starts to rise out of her chair. 

“Enjoy your stay in Eorzea, Mr. Takahashi. I do hope you’ll remember what we discussed,” she says as she turns back to Mori, his lips parted in some measure of shock as her smile slips away again. “Good evening.” 

And just like that, she was gone, high heels clicking against a marble floor with an easy and practiced kind of grace.  

#rushed but NYEH! #it's fine #it's all fine #writing #ffxiv rp #ff14 rp

[doctorlaelia-ffxiv]

champagne problems.

[[ tagging @benes-diction​ for lots of mentions of her beautiful Beanies ]]

Fourteen year old Laelia had never felt half so miserable as she did on the night that Cato Benes - or, rather, Cato rem Benes now - was ‘celebrating’ his deployment to Nagxia. She’d had no choice but to go home with an aching stomach and a fit of dizziness that was so severe that she couldn’t walk on her own. Marcus had had to carry her from the ballroom, while her parents stayed behind and gossiped and drank. 

It had only been by the grace of medicine that her nurse gave her that she was able to sleep at all in between vomiting. Even still... The sleeping pills felt like they were inducing fever dreams. Curled in her big bed - her childhood bed, not the one she had to sleep in at the dorms that was hard and uncomfortable - Laelia slept, and... in an odd and painful way, it was the best sleep that she’d ever been able to experience. 

In her dreams, she was older. She was floating down the ballroom staircase in a dress the same color as her eyes, shimmering like a star. Heads turned to watch her, and people wondered who she was. She looked like a Caelius, but... the oldest Caelius girl had already gone home. Suitors lined up, overwhelmed her, until the sea of young men dressed in their finery was parted by a man that instilled both fear and admiration in young Laelia - Lucius mal Benes. 

He escorted her to his wife, and Laelia was starstruck to be standing in front of the Theodosia Benes, but... Theodosia didn’t recognize her, either. It was like Laelia wasn’t herself. She was her, but not. To these people, she was still a child, and the body she inhabited in her dream was a stranger - a familiar one, but a stranger all the same.

The dream raced with things that she could have, well... only really dreamt about. The entire night, she had the attention of her lifelong crush. Cato danced with her, and they laughed and whispered and blushed. They snuck sips of whiskey from his aunt’s flask and Laelia hated the taste but she liked how it made her bolder, how it made her unafraid to kiss the boy without a bad bone in his body on a chilly balcony. He asked her to think of him, from time to time. That’s all he wanted - for someone to think of him. 

Laelia had never agreed to anything so quickly in her life. 

And then, like a fairytale, the clock struck midnight, and Laelia had to go. She had to run and run, and she wasn’t sure why. As she slipped through the crowds, she saw flutes of champagne being handed out, and... something struck her in the chest, painful and uncomfortable. It was a bad sign, and she couldn’t place her finger on why, except for the fact that it didn’t seem right to toast to soldiers going to war. What if they died? What if they didn’t come back? Wouldn’t the champagne simply be a toast to their death, the? A celebration that they had paid the ultimate sacrifice? 

When young Laelia woke from this dreamworld, though, she was told that Cato rem Benes had departed for his post. She hadn’t gotten to say goodbye, not really - only in her dreams. Of course, she was a child then. Cato didn’t see her the way that she saw him, and that was okay. Laelia could live with that, as long as she could believe that maybe one day, he’d come back and she’d be older and maybe then she’d have a chance. It was okay if she got to see his Benes’ blues, the ones that streaked violet beneath glimmering starlight and crystal chandeliers, if she got a chance to count his freckles after the war was won.

It was okay, if Cato was going to come back. 

But he didn’t. Cato rem Benes died. He died, without Laelia ever getting to say a proper goodbye to him. 

The news of his death would go on to haunt Laelia for years after the fact. She wouldn’t have the dream she had on the night of his going away ball until four years later, when she was in a bunkbed in the residency quarters within the capital’s hospital. This time, it felt... more vivid. There was more. 

She saw his face more clearly. It felt so real. It felt so damned real. It felt like she could feel him kissing her, like she could feel Cato’s hands grasping her hands and her waist and cupping her face so gently as they got drunk off of each other’s kisses, as they recited poetry and plays and laughed, breathless. She could feel his heavy, warm coat around her bare shoulders, could hear the whisper of her skirts against the marble floors, could remember - or at least, it felt like she was remembering - how Cato said she was even more beautiful up close with his glasses off. 

He’d wanted to know her name, her house, where he could send his letters when he was deployed, but... for some reason, Laelia didn’t tell him. Why didn’t she tell him? Why didn’t he know who she was? It was a dream, of course, and she was... Laelia, but she wasn’t. Laelia, when Cato left, was fourteen. Laelia in the dream looked like she was actually eighteen. Is that why it felt so real? Is that why it felt so vivid? Because she was closer to the reality of the... dream? 

With Lucius mal Benes standing in the doorway, Cato had kissed Laelia deeply as the clock began to chime. He hadn’t said, but his eyes had begged, pleaded: ‘Think of me. From time to time, please think of me.’ 

She kept her promise. A day hadn’t passed that Laelia hadn’t thought of Cato rem Benes, her first love. Every day, she thought of him fondly, or with great sadness, or with longing, or all three. In the dream, she left him in the cold. She had run from him, and it felt like her heart was being ripped out. She sobbed as she reached the gardens, snowflakes falling soft and slow, and she fell to her knees, doubled over with grief, because...

Because Laelia, in the dream, knew Cato’s fate. She had said in the dream that he’d be back, because she couldn’t say the truth. And every time she spoke the lie, it was like someone was shooting her in the chest. Cato wasn’t coming back. He wouldn’t come back. The Benes family would be losing one of their brightest lights, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

Laelia woke up, gasping, breathless, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes as she stared up at the ceiling overhead. And, somehow... Her skin smelled like Cato’s had in the dream. When she glanced down, she saw shimmering glitter on her collarbones. When she reached up, she felt one lone rhinestone in her hair that she slowly pulled out and turned between her fingers. Her tongue tasted like the whiskey from the flask Caelia had let them borrow.

It didn’t make sense. It had only been a dream. It was the most vivid dream of her life, but... a dream all the same. Still, her lips tingled from how Cato had kissed her. The memory of his breathless voice, the way he looked at her, the way he held her in his careful hands, it all felt real. Every last moment of it felt so very real, but it couldn’t have been. There was no way.

Cato rem Benes was dead. He was dead, and Laelia hadn’t been there to see him off. There had to be an explanation. She just couldn’t think of one.

Still staring up at the ceiling, Laelia let the tears roll down the sides of her face, let the lump in her throat rise up and give way to sobs not unlike the ones she’d dreamt of in the garden after leaving Cato’s side - after leaving him looking heartbroken and confused on the balcony, without anything to remember her by except for a rhinestone pressed to his cheek and lipstick on his face.

It hadn’t been real. It wasn’t real, so... Why did it feel like her heart had been ripped out the same way it had been when she found out he had died in combat? 

“Dreams are bullshit,” Laelia whispered, reaching up to aggressively wipe the tears from her face. 

She was so preoccupied in getting up, in forcing herself to pull it together, that she didn’t notice the little scrap of paper that had floated in through the open window. Really, she hadn’t remembered leaving the window open at all, and it wouldn’t be until after she made her rounds that she found it - a small note, that looked like it had been ripped from a notebook:

‘I miss you.’

#I DON'T REMEMBER HOW TO WRITE #HAVE THIS ANYWAY #[that would be enough.] #ffxiv rp #ff14 rp #writing

[doctorlaelia-ffxiv]

better.

[[ tagging @benes-diction​ for mentions of her lovely characters! ]]

It’s bitter, to try to pen these words that sit in the back of my mind. It makes me feel ungrateful, or worse, jealous, but... Maybe. Maybe I am. All I can think of as I sit in this foreign palace, with the eyes of people who wouldn’t care if I died constantly watching me, is that my oldest sister would know what to do. She would know exactly how to fix everything, to ease tensions - whether or not we should extend hands of friendship, like Theodosia says, or to keep to ourselves, like Celia says we should. 

Laelia would know. And even if she couldn’t fix things, she would find a way, at least, to make them better. Celia is a good and capable, but mal Benes’ condition doesn’t look good. I can hear Laelia’s voice in my head each time Celia goes to tend to her father.

‘You can’t effectively treat someone you’re close to.’

And Celia is doing an amazing job, but... would it better, easier, if Laelia was here to help her? I don’t know what to do. I looked at her medical textbooks, her endless writings in journals crammed with handwriting that I couldn’t read, and didn’t understand anything. The best I can do is put some antiseptic on a wound and bandage it up. It’s a horrible, helpless sort of feeling. Cassia knows more, learned more from combat training, but even still...

It feels like the Caelius family is more of a burden than anything else, with how... Mother acts. And talks. How she never quite stops talking. And Emperor help us, the Au Ra with the sword that prowls around the prince and princess clearly wouldn’t hesitate to cut any of us down if she was given a reason. I can’t look at her without feeling afraid down to my core, but... Laelia would have been able to. She would have been able to look that woman in the eyes and not cower, like Theodosia can - like my mother can, but with less foolishness. 

It’s become abundantly clear, in these past few moons, just how much I have lived in Laelia’s shadow. It was clear our entire life, but it’s only been with her passing that I understand just how thick and heavy her shadow really was.

Our parents cared about Laelia’s grades. They expected the best from her, no matter what. My mother wanted her to pursue music, and she was expected to excel in the theater while studying to enter medical school, while carrying the social burdens of being a Caelius on her shoulders because I was too young and because Cassia isn’t a “pureblood.” Laelia was everything a Garlean should be - she was beautiful, and brilliant, and rational, and... useful. 

If I came home with grades that weren’t perfect, that was alright. And maybe I should have been grateful for that. Maybe I should have been grateful for the way that our father smiled at me and kissed my forehead in contrast to how he shouted at Laelia and demanded more, more, more. Laelia bore the brunt of his rage, without our mother ever bothering to intervene. I was his pride and joy. Cassia was the one he barely ever spared a glance.

Where Laelia had her piano smashed to bits when she insisted that she wanted to pursue music rather than medicine, I was gifted a new harp the very next day. Laelia smiled when it arrived and told me she was happy for me, praised me for my abilities, but... I knew I would never be as good as her. My voice would never be as beautiful, or my playing as skillful, or my acting as believable, and my dancing wasn’t even close to being as graceful. But my father gave me what Laelia wasn’t allowed to have - a life in the theater, because...

Because it didn’t matter what I did. It mattered what Laelia did. It mattered that she carried on the family name. I could have my life in the theater and then marry rich and that would have been good enough. I’d have done my duty while my oldest sister worked without end to be considered anywhere close to good enough for our parents’ - but especially our father’s - expectations. She had to be perfect, and I think... she took it too seriously. I could see it wearing on her. I could see the exhaustion she hid with makeup, and the way her shoulders wanted to slump, but she never let them. She always stood straight, with grace and with poise, even when I was weeping over nothing.

Laelia carried everything on her tired shoulders, even my problems that I ran crying to her about - this boy said this, I didn’t pass this audition, and... I never thought how it might affect her. I could court whoever I liked, as long as they were wealthy and influential. I could perform. I was living her dream and rubbing it in her face and she never once said a word about it hurting her. Even though she lived her life non-stop, hardly ever getting a break, she always had time for Cassia and me - a shoulder to cry on, advice to give, smiles and praise. 

Did we ever do the same? Did we ever support her when she was suffering the most? Did she ever show when she was suffering, truly? Or was she too afraid of how it would affect us? Laelia was the glue. She was the smart one, the tough one, the responsible one, and so... she didn’t let us see her falter, if she ever did. She knew we needed her to be tough so that we could be weaker. 

She had to be better, better, better, so that Cassia and I never had to pick up her slack. All that ever mattered to her was our happiness. I know that. I know that’s why she went to fight a war she didn’t believe in - to protect us, so no one suspected that the Caelius family was not loyal to the Empire. 

Laelia died to protect us. She gave her life to make sure her family didn’t end up executed or in the sewers. Every thesis, every research paper, every surgery, everything... It was for us. And we never repaid her. 

I often wonder if she was scared when the Castrum came crashing down. I wonder if she cowered and hid and tried to find safety, but... somehow, I doubt it. That wouldn’t be the Laelia that I knew - the one that walked into her going away party in a dress meant to scandalize, more beautiful and more dignified than anyone else could hope to be.

If I know Laelia, she died trying to help people. If I know her... Then I know that she was the best of us - unafraid and ferociously strong, kind and gentle to those who needed a big sister or a friend, endlessly trying to make the world a better place, no matter what she needed to sacrifice. 

I try not to feel as though I live in her shadow. It’s not what she would have wanted. But her shadow feels so thick that I don’t know if I can escape it. I can’t carry on the legacy she created. I can only be Julia, and I know she would tell me there was nothing better to be. I can hear her chiding me, and I can see her small smile, feel her hands as they smooth back my hair. 

‘The world is better for you and Cassia,’ is what she so often told me. ‘You are stronger than you think you are, Julia. Your softness is a strength. You light up every room you walk into. You put people at ease, my beautiful baby sister, and I only set their teeth on edge.’

I want to believe that’s true, Laelia, but... It’s hard. It’s hard to believe I could ever be anywhere as good as you were. Not as smart, not as talented, not as formidable or hard-working or level-headed. But I’ll try, big sister. For you. For you, I will try to be the person our family needs. 

Your shadow stifles, but... sometimes, it comforts, too. 

#JULIA PERSPECTIVE? #julia perspective #writing #ffxiv rp #ff14 rp #ffxiv #ff14

[doctorlaelia-ffxiv]

Gene Tierney in Leave Her to Heaven (1945) dir. John M. Stahl

#likeness

[doctorlaelia-ffxiv]

i’ll hold your hands, i know you’ve been waiting for me. 

#im so in love with her what the hell #ffxiv screenshots #ff14 screenshots #hyur midlander #garlean #ffxiv #ff14 #gpose #reshade #screenshots

[doctorlaelia-ffxiv]

Prompt 5: Matter of Fact

“She’s so emotionless.”

“She’s an absolute ice queen. I’m terrified of her.”

“Why does she always have to act like she’s the smartest in the room?”

“That’s because it’s usually true, Octavia.”

Keep reading

#this didnt turn out how i wanted #nyeh #writing #ffxiv rp #ff14 rp

[doctorlaelia-ffxiv]

You tell me to come over, there's some games you want to play I'm walking to your house, nobody's home Just me and you and you and me alone

#ffxiv screenshots #ff14 screenshots #hyur midlander #garlean #gpose #reshade #ffxiv #ff14 #ffxiv rp #ff14 rp #screenshots

[doctorlaelia-ffxiv]

Y’shtola: I am at a loss for words!

WoL, narrating: Despite being lost for words, Y’shtola yelled at me for the next ten minutes.  

#WELL #words #big laelia mood

[doctorlaelia-ffxiv]

Reem Kachmar | Fall/Winter 2020 Couture

#okay but this in blue or white?? #big laelia energy #wardrobe

[doctorlaelia-ffxiv]

the refugees.

Tagging @korporxie​ / @doctorlaelia-ffxiv​ for the involvement of her amazing gal Laelia, and also so I can extend a public big, big, big thank-you to her for letting me write Laelia into this in the first place, putting up with my endless questions with the grace of a saint, and being kind enough to beta-read.

Though she loathed to admit it, there was something oddly satisfying and comforting about being reassured that she was not the cause of her family’s recent hardships. Despite the fact that the Garlean refugees were still in limbo, for the first time in weeks, Celia was able to breathe.

She hadn’t been the one to put her family in danger. She wasn’t trusting the wrong people. She wasn’t being too open with the ones she trusted.

The fact that the woman who’d been harassing her—her cousin, no less—had insinuated that her grandmother had been behind the attack… Well. That was something she would tackle once she knew for certain the refugees were safely in Hingashi, on neutral soil.

It might have been Rhoda. But there was a chance it wasn’t. There were too many questions surrounding it, too many instances of ‘what if.’

The time for those questions would come later.

For the first time in what felt like ages, Celia actually took the time to spend a day doing something other than scouring books for the Alliance’s and Hingan laws and staring at maps while running calculations based on footspeed. The sun poured in from the inn room windows to bathe her bare legs in light and warmth, the curtains pulled aside and fluttering in the gentle breeze. With a book in hand and Remmy curled against her, it really seemed the only way to make the day better would have been if Arduro had been able to stop and take a break for a time.

Or if her mother was there with tea and a piano.

Or if her father was writing away at new plans for a better set of prostheses that would be more reactive for the applicant.

Or even her aunt, drinking away in a nearby chair, grumbling about something.

She shook her head, attempting to dislodge the thought before it could take root. She was taking a day to destress. Thinking of her family would only serve to upset her and drive her back to futilely attempting to figure out their exact location.

If she stressed more, she’d end up bothering Caius and Audrey, or worse yet, bothering Laelia.

The good doctor was worrying enough, in the same position; her family was at risk, too.

Celia could only sigh and rest her feet on the ottoman in front of her chair, as Remmy took her shift in position to mean it was time to snuggle.

“Cuddly boy,” she murmured, letting the bullpup snuffle at her hand before she rubbed at his soft ears.

Remmy pawed at her occupied hand, and with a shake of her head, she relented, setting aside her book to devote her full attention to the needy dog.

She was just about to retrieve her book once more when heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway.

Though she knew the determined stride and the weight behind it, for a moment, Celia feared it was one of Katja’s henchmen, coming to finish the job, coming to drag her out of the inn and make her pay for what she’d done to their boss.

Her heart leapt into her throat and for a terrible beat, as the panic sank in and she realized she had left her combat knife laying on a pile of discarded clothes on top of her bed.

But Remmy didn’t growl, and the form that threw open the inn room door wasn’t someone unfamiliar to her.

The look on his face wasn’t even unfamiliar.

Arduro charged in like a man on a mission, striding past Remmy as the little dog hopped from Celia’s chair.

“Ard—” she began, only for him to cut her off with a wave of his hand and a sharp, meaningful look.

“Van Ursus in on linkpearl.”

Celia’s stomach dropped.

So much for taking a day to relax.

Keep reading

#how dare she thank me #thank you for letting my girls be involved in this plot #u foole #u talented foole #cw wounds #cw infection #amazing friend writes #ffxiv rp #garlean #long post #celia benes #arduro vocitus #the dread aunt

[doctorlaelia-ffxiv]

#the best boy💕 #ffxiv screenshots #ff14 screenshots #hyur midlander #ffxiv rp #ffxiv #ff14 #ff14 rp #[that would be enough.]

[doctorlaelia-ffxiv]

#🥺 #aesthetic #[that would be enough.]