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mirroralchemist · 4 years

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*obligatory FFXIV Nameday fic*

Word Count: 6619 (again a long fic, I’m sorry) Notes: Okay look, it’s October. My birthday was in August. I was supposed to finish this by August. LEAVE ME ALONE ABOUT THAT. But for reals this fic ran away from me a long while. I tried to make it a feel good fic from beginning to end but some angst had to get in there a little bit. I chalk it up to Ami being old af and she’s just in a mood(tm), mind you she’s only a year or two younger than Urianger. Also after 5.0 setting so SPOILERS.

Again thanks to @but-two-days-old for being my Urianger interpreter because THIS FEATURES A BIT OF HIM AND TRYING TO WRITE IT MYSELF MAKES ME EFFIN CRINGE MAN AND WAS LIKE 10% OF THE REASON I GOT STUCK ON WRITING. I love his way of talking but trying to write it, whew childe.

A knock on my door brings me out of my morning activities. I particularly had nothing to do, but to maybe catch up on business I haven’t attended to in The Source. The knocking became more insistent as gathered myself together.

“Just a moment.” I called.

I eventually made the trip to said door, ready to give a bit of a remark about it being so godsdamned early. The words died on my lips as I saw who it was, a slight blush forming on my cheeks.

“Mornin’ Ami. I hope you weren’t sleeping.”

My eyes wandered over to Thancred. He seemed unusually chipper for the time of day it was. I winced at his mood.

“I wasn’t. In fact I was just getting ready to start on my morning training.”

“Perfect!” he spoke, “Mind a partner?”

I blinked for a moment. The request taking a moment to process in my mind. I scanned him up and down, noticing that he was appropriately dressed for such an endeavor. It strike me as odd, seeing as I never really told anyone my schedule during my down times. It could be that he just wanted to spend more time with me.

If I were to be honest, it was still hard to believe that we are in a relationship.

In the end I relented. Mayhap having a partner could prove beneficial, especially someone as well trained as Thancred. More than someone I love, I looked up to him as a mentor and valuable friend. I nodded as I stepped out of my room.

“Okay then, you might find a Monk’s training a bit different than what you’re accustomed to.”

* * *

The sun was set high in the sky by the time we walked into the threshold of the Crystarium.

The session had turned out to be quite fulfilling. There was a quite different experience of having an actual being to train with, rather than the usual striking dummies or imaginary opponents in my head. I glanced over to Thancred to see how he fared. Per usual, he seemed not as bothered.

Quite the opposite in fact, if that slight smile on his face was any indication.

It would only make my cheeks color faster. Remembering more so the downtime between each training session. The swollen lips and splotches of red hidden by my hair. He caught me staring. That only seemed to make his smile wider.

“That is becoming quite the color on you my dear.”

He only laughed as my blush became deeper.

I soon felt his arm around my shoulders, casually stroking the bare skin. Soon a pair of hurried steps made our way. We had almost separated, if it wasn’t for the fact that the steps belonged to Ryne. I smiled at the girl, though her expression seemed slight panicked.

“There you two are. I have been looking all around for you.”

“Sorry Ryne, training took more than expected.” I said.

She shook her head, “No, that’s quite alright. The Exarch had wanted to meet with us as soon as possible.”

I separated from Thancred as I crossed my arms, a thoughtful look crossed my face.

“Have he finally made progress in getting the others home?”

Ryne only shook her head.

“I don’t know. He just informed me it was important to get everyone together. The others are already in the Ocular waiting.”

I looked at Thancred, who only looked at me with a sudden seriousness. A brief nod was all it took before I followed after Ryne. It was automatic, going through the Aetheryte plaza to the Dossal gate. Up those familiar grand set of stairs to head inside the Crystal Tower, as I had always done since coming to The First. The guard there and Ryne shared the briefest of nods before opening the door to let us in. I calmed at the quietness as we entered. I always have a sense of nostalgia going here, even though it was not quite the same Crystal Tower I explored in Mor Dhona.

I was once told trying to make sense of time is quite an undertaking.

We reached the set of doors that would take us into the Ocular and stopped. I cocked my head to the side. Normally we would just walk in since the Exarch was expecting us. Instead, Ryne gave a few quick rasps on the double doors.

“They are here as you asked.”

“Thank you, send them in.” came the muffled reply.

Ryne moved out of the way and a slight push from Thancred put me at the front of the doors. They wanted me to open it, it seems. It didn’t quite match up in my mind what was going on. But it would not have been the first time I was suddenly thrust into odd circumstance. I put my hands on the door handles and pulled.

Only to be met with a flood of confetti.

I paused for the longest moment. My mind catching up to the suddenness of the past moments. I looked around the room. Celebratory decorations all around the perimeter of the crystalline blue walls with the floor sprinkled with the selfsame confetti (which hadn’t made a pile where I stood). In the middle stood a table, somewhat small but not too grand.

Placed right in the middle was a cake.

“Oh dear, I think we broke her.” came Thancred’s reply.

I shook my head out of the thoughts. I looked around some more. There I saw each of my companions, my family gathered in the room. Each one of them having the warm smile on their faces as they looked at me. In the center was G’raha probably smiling the warmest of them all. A larger hand soon fell upon my head, delicately removing the shredded paper that stuck to my blue locks.

“Dost knowest thine significance of this day, no?”

“Time is always a fickle subject to accurately discern.” G’raha began to explain, “So the dates may not exactly line up here in The First. But, if we were go to by the date of the Source, then today would be-”

“The Third Sun of the Fourth Umbral Moon.” I finished, “My nameday.”

A few nods confirmed it.

For a moment, I didn’t react. Other than the surprise of the gathering, I was curious about how they knew of my nameday. I turned to look at Thancred, who looked quite pleased with himself.

“You were the distraction.” I surmised.

“Well, not entirely.”

I let a small sigh come out. The hand was was previously in my hair found its way intertwined with my own. The size easily dwarfing my own. I instinctively leaned into Urianger, feeling comforted by his being.

“Thank you all, really. But I never mentioned my nameday.”

“Tis true, thou didst not breathe a word of it to anyone; pray allow me to explain.” Urianger explained, “I recently chanced to hear from Mistress Tataru that thine nameday had not long ago passed-such 'twas a reminder that despite mine intent to do so, I most regretfully failed to impart unto our dear friends the importance of that approaching day, as we all are gathered so rarely and oft have far more pressing matters to discuss at those times. Yet this could not be let to stand, and at once did I hurry to make right mine unfortunate mistake.”

I looked towards him, seeing the twinge of regret in his eyes. I almost wanted to tell him that it was fine, after all I never bought it up. But seeing the how earnest he wanted to rectify (what he thought) a mistake I couldn’t tell him so. I suppose that was one of the reasons why I had grown to be enamored with him. I patted his back in a comforting fashion.

“My story of finding out...” G’raha added, “Isn’t as glamorous and not meant to be explained, given the intended mood of today. It seemed Urianger and I are like-minded when it was soon realized the day was fast approaching. We told the others and they agreed. Everyone here you helped in some fashion or another; without asking for a thing in return. Let us thank you by celebrating the day you came into this life, dear friend.”

“Raha…” I began to say.

I was speechless at his words. Speechless and a little homesick. Of course, I could come and go to Eorzea as I pleased. But becoming as close as I was to the Scions over our journey here it wouldn’t have felt the same. I rubbed at my eyes to stop the tears threatening to fall.

“If Thancred wasn’t so eager to provide the distraction, we would have put the Exarch to the task.” Alisaie quipped, “If we had agreed to his every whim, you would have had a nameday festival a week long. Understandably, he wouldn’t have realized that you would not want such publicity so in the end we decided to ban his involvement beyond making your cake.”

“Wha-hey!”

Despite my best efforts, a rather undignified laugh came out. I could honestly see it playing out exactly how Alisaie described. She looked quite pleased that her observations got a reaction out of me while G’raha gave a weary but appreciated smile.

“If we are done with explanations,” Y’shtola mentioned, “may I suggest we have our friend blow out the candles? I do not think scraping melted wax off the cake was a part of our plan today.”

I smiled at her before separating myself from Urianger. I took my time to examine the cake and its design. It was a simple, two layered cake with white whipped icing and berries placed on it. Two candles adorned each side of the top of the cake, the flames flickering ever so. Now, I had only dabbled in the Culinarian guild when I had first started but I can tell that considerable care went into its creation. The surge of happiness welled stronger in this realization. I took a deep breath. Giving a silent thanks to the gods for allowing me to have such a personal moment with my friends, I blew out the candles.

A chorus of applause and more confetti rained down on my head. This time, I didn’t stop the tears from flowing for they were of happiness. My heart wanting to burst with the tangible love I saw from each person in this room. I vaguely felt Urianger’s hands rubbing my shoulders in small circles to ease my tears.

It was a far cry from a short while ago; in which I was complacent in not welcoming this day.

“Come now Ami this is a joyous occasion, no tears here.” Alphinaud spoke.

I gave a nod.

The tears eventually stopped and the celebration got underway. It was a quiet affair, all things considered. I didn’t mind it overmuch. It reminded me of the namedays I had back home. There was only the three of us back then. Before I became an adventurer and subsequently a Warrior of Light. I could still remember how my guardians, as busy as they were, would always took a moment out to celebrate my nameday. Being raised in two different cultures it was never a dull moment.

I truly had missed them.

Once this is all over, I’ll go see them again.

Alisaie soon stood in front of me, her hands behind her back. She looked a bit embarrassed; although I would never point that out to her. Soon she thrust her hands forward to put an item in my hands.

“There!”

I blinked before looking down at what was exactly in my hands. It was a rapier. The blue crystal blade sparkled against the lights of the room. It was fairly light and I could feel the magicks imbued in such a weapon. I looked up at her, clearly confused.

While I had been working on my arcane skills to put to rest the other cardinal virtues, I never once mentioned it to the others.

Much less the methods to combat them.

“I had heard from the townsfolk in Mord Sorq that there are a couple of hunters trying to get rid of a particular sin eater there. I had to have figured it was your doing, as is your wont to help everyone you come across. They only came to me in realization that you were fighting in a similar style. Although I am quite cross you didn’t come and tell me you were going to fight in this way.”

“Sorry?” I meekly said.

“’Tis fine, ‘tis fine.” she waved off, “I fully expect to see you in battle with it sooner or later yes?”

“Of course,” I answered with a smile.

“Since my sister so subtly announced, I suppose it is time to give our gifts.” Alphinaud mentioned.

He stepped up to me as I put the rapier in my pack. I looked at him, still catching myself in awe that the young man before me was the haughty boy I had met when I had just joined with the Scions. Bearing witness to his growth during our travels in Ishgard and even now, I was proud of him. He placed a tin into my free hands. Simplistic in design and only wrapped with a singular ribbon. But even at this range I could pick up the fragrant scent of dried tea leaves emanating from within.

“I confess, it was quite difficult to decide on a gift for you. I even asked the Chais for their suggestions on the matter. They send their regards and insist you visit when you next happen upon Eulmore. Despite my many explanations they were rather insistent to personally hand their nameday gift to the, in their own words, ‘maiden I am enamored with’.”

I could see the light dusting of blush on his pale skin. I chuckled softly as I pulled him into a hug. I felt him stiffen for the slightest moment before relaxing into it. I was not one who usually show such affections for him, we usually had a silent understanding of our familial relationship.

“Thank you Alphinaud.” I spoke in earnest, “I shall go see the Chais at my earliest convenience.”

As we parted, another stepped up; Y’shtola in fact. The Miqo’te woman stood before me. Despite my greater height, I still at times felt smaller towards her. Someone who was assured of herself and her path, qualities I hoped that in my time here in the First I had somewhat began to grasp for myself. In her gloved hands was a hairpin. My crafting more so favored alchemic creations, but I could see the quality behind the simplistic design.

“You really shouldn’t hav-”

“Don’t be so modest now,” she interjected, “It is your nameday and it is completely allowed for you to be spoiled. For future reference, you ought to be more forthcoming with your hobbies. It was quite the task to discern a gift for someone who is quite secretive about what makes her happy.”

Her bluntness always took me by surprise regardless of hearing it so many times. I had appreciated that about her. It was why I could come to her for advice. I nodded at her words. Then she gave me a subtle wink as she went to affix the pin to the side of my hair.

“Much better. Your bangs were becoming a mess.”

I had fiddled with the looser part of my bang, suddenly self conscious. Y’shtola only chuckled at my reaction. I was not weary of the chuckle, but she always seemed to know more than what she lets on at times. I could never forget how she figured so soon about my more personal activities. The unmistakable clinks of jewelry intermingling with shifting robes could only tell me of one person who was approaching next. I crane my head to meet the gaze of Urianger. A subtle silence fell upon us.

A slight flourish of a bow before placing in my hands a tome. No, not a tome exactly but a journal. It was the same size of the one I normally carried during my more creative excursions. My hands ghosted over the dark blue, nearly black, leather bound cover. A quick thumb through saw the completely blank pages, with a thin ribbon used as a marker. I looked up at him once more noticing how his golden eyes sparkled in satisfaction. It made me feel a touch guilty, it certainly couldn’t have been an affordable item.

“Thank you, but I cannot accept this,” I said, extending the journal back into his space, “You especially did not need to give me anything. We wouldn’t even be celebrating my nameday if it wasn’t partially for you.”

He placed his hands on top of mines. I had hoped he would accept my decision. But in a rare bout of stubbornness, he pressed the journal towards my chest our hands never breaking contact.

“’Tis a small price to pay for the continued pleasure of your existence.”

“But-”

Before I could complete my protest, I was softly kissed. I blinked for a moment, noticing how Urianger’s tanned skin took on a slightly dusty shade as blush. He was not one for displays of affection such as this. It was still new to me as well. His thumb easily stroking the distance of my own hands. His gaze softened into a fond affection; one I could never tell if the nature was in friendship or love.

“Prithee accept this,” he spoke in a calming gentle tone, “'Tis but a small token of mine appreciation, for the compassion thou hast shown me when mine actions hath left me most undeserving of it...and a token I most deeply hope to bequeath unto thee not only this day, but for as many more of thy namedays as I may be privileged to be some small part of."

He had spoken it softly, but with such conviction. I looked away, his words having an effect on me. I nodded minutely, having no reason to refuse the gift now. His hands and left mines, one going to rest on the small of my back. It lingered there for quite some time before the affectionate gaze morphed into one of satisfaction and lips curled into a wry smile.

Oh, it seems that he did pick up a few habits from the pixies; the devious man.

“Um…”

I soon turned my attention to the small voice. I was soon met with Ryne’s shy posture. Her hands were behind her back as she looked at me with a quiet stare. It was honestly looking at myself at her age. Perhaps it was why I took an immediate liking to her. I waited patiently, not pushing her to speak her mind until she was ready.

“I wasn’t exactly sure what to get in these kinds of gatherings. But Captain Lyna said that these were good. So I figured you might like them too.”

She revealed soon after in her hands was a satchel. I took the item from her and unwrapped it, realizing it was foodstuff inside. Biscuits if my eyes were correct.

“They’re coffee biscuits.” she added, “It isn’t much but I hope you enjoy them. You’ve done a lot for me. I appreciate your strength and kindness, especially when I needed it most.”

I managed to free a hand to pat her gently on her head. I smiled softly at her honesty. My heart warming at seeing her slowly become more relaxed at the acceptance of my gift.

“Thank you Ryne, truly. I believe with Alphy’s tea I’ll enjoy these all the more.”

I heard a snort behind me, most likely Alisaie. Along with the hushed murmurs of Alphinaud. Ryne stepped back from me, making her way back to the side of her (basically) guardian. My eyes found itself locking into Thancred’s. He seemed somewhat guarded, something I wasn’t wholly unused to. No, ever since we met again in this land he had always taken up that sort of reaction. Taking his task as a Gunbreaker to heart, I’d speculate.

“Go on.” Ryne spoke to him with a nudge.

He stumbled a little, surprised at the surprising boldness coming from her. He gave the most bewildered look, causing me to chuckle. He seemed to have noticed it too, looking at me with a tired expression. But it was in good spirits. He slowly made his way towards me, stopping just in front. Even now, after everything, being this close still caused me a bit of rush to my chest. He placed a gloved hand on my shoulder, smiling at me.

“Well, I had an entire speech prepared to shower you in unending praise and affection. But Urianger beat me to it. So I suppose something a bit shorter is in order.”

He finished the statement by giving a pointed look at Urianger. He only responded with a knowing smile, the same he gave me.

“At any rate, we would be here for a long time if we were to speak every whisper from our hearts. So I won’t. You already know what is in mines; I’ve spoken them to you so many times in private, I need not repeat them. You have done much, my dear. Most especially for a fool like myself and appreciate every act, now and evermore.”

He placed in my hands a gunblade. I stared at it in confusion. It was my gunblade, in its more compact state. I glanced back at him, ready to question it.

When did he get my gunblade?

“It seems,” he began, seemingly knowing the question, “while you had your talk with Urianger some time ago, you left it behind. I had always intended to give it to you, but seeing as your nameday was approaching, might as well hold off until then no?”

I could only nod numbly to his explanation as I stared right back down at the blade. It looked unassuming and a poor choice of gift. But I could tell, having used it for so long, that it was different. The condition of it was vastly improved, its hairline scratches completely cleared. I stepped back to give it a quick swing, noticing how much faster it shifted from compact to battle states. Smoother as well. I couldn’t test it here but I had an inkling that it would perform better against enemies too.

“You had it augmented?”

The smile on his face only confirmed my inquiry. I let it go back into its compact state before putting it away. I looked around, seeing everyone had their eyes on me. It was as though they wanted me to say a few words. I let my head fall in nerves of what to say. I was never one for public speaking. I took a deep breath before meeting everyone’s gazes once more.

“I honestly don’t know what to say.” I began, “I’m grateful for everything. I may not say it a lot, but thank you for everything. I don’t know where I would be if I didn’t know of your friendships and love.”

Each of them nodded, agreeing with the sentiment.

Eventually we all had settled into a comfortable atmosphere around the Ocular. I assume we all needed a small respite from our separate endeavors. Even if it meant I would be a bit embarrassed about having attention focused on me. I could bear it for the day.

Though, I couldn’t help the feeling I was being watched.

Granted that it was my nameday; it should have been normal to being watched. This felt different. I looked around eventually finding that the source of the stare was Alisaie. She just stared at me. It wasn’t an exactly uncomfortable stare but it was scrutinizing. Once more she made her way to me, as the small pout formed on her face.

She was more temperamental than Alphinaud, so I could never quite prepare for her.

“Ami,” she began carefully, as if she was considering her words, “It’s none of my business who you spend your personal time with and I know you won’t do it on purpose. But don’t you hurt Urianger. He’s family and I’ll see to it if you do.”

I blinked slowly, letting her words sink in.

A full blush settled on my face. She was quite serious in her warning. The way she put her hands to her hips and settled into a warning glare. There was a vague thought of her bluntness rivaling Y’shtola’s.

“Are you sure about that claim Sister?”

Alisaie and I turned our focus towards the source of the question. Alphinaud had heard us and was soon standing beside us. He seemed to be in thought.

“It was not that long ago I had seen her and Thancred around the Crystarium and they seemed particularly close.” he noted.

If I could I would have blushed even deeper. I knew exactly the moment Alphinaud had witnessed. It had began as just a simple walk around the city but it soon escalated into something much more intimate.

...nevermind the fact that we were meeting with Urianger that day.

“I am not particularly knowledgeable on the subject but I am sure friends do not kiss in the way those two do.”

“Surely you can see that Ami’s heart has always been for Thancred?” Alphinaud countered.

“And I am not denying that, dear brother,” Alisaie said, “but I am telling you that there is more than mere friendship...unless…”

“Unless?”

I could see Alisaie in deep thought over her words. I remained silent on the matter, embarrassed about what was transpiring. It seemed painful long minutes before she finally looked up at me. I could see the faint color on her cheeks while her eyes widen in surprise towards me.

“She’s seeing them both at the same time.” she suddenly said.

Now, a lot happened in that moment.

I was not sure if she knew, but she had reached that conclusion rather loudly. An immediate silence fell over the room. Suddenly all eyes were on me. A rather undignified gasp left me like I had been gut punched.

Although, it wouldn’t be too far from the truth.

“Finally!” came Y’shtola’s voice, “We can stop pretending we did not know.”

My head turned so fast to the Miqo’te who only responded in kind with a sly wink. A part of me should have known it wouldn’t have escaped her notice. Oh gods, I wanted to go back to my quarters at that moment.

“Come now,” she continued, “you honestly did not think it would escape our notice your particular affinities in recent times? You can do a lot, Ami, but when it comes to your feelings it is very clear.”

I opened my mouth to attempt to speak, but promptly close it. There was no point to refute it. Especially since it was never my intent to hide my relationships. I just hung my head low and let out a hard sigh. I soon felt both my hands being grabbed, seeing that Urianger and Thancred had each taken a hand. They seemed to share a look before leading me right out of the Ocular.

“Now then,” Thancred said, “since everything is out in the open. Fine time to whisk our damsel away for a more private nameday celebration, no?”

The way he emphasized private left no doubt what he had implied. I heard a chorus of groans from the others as I threw an apologetic glance at them.

"Thancred, mayhap 'twould be best for thou to keep some secrets...?” I heard Urianger remark.

His eyes were suddenly staring at the back of my neck.

…where the hickeys from Thancred’s “distraction” still laid.

* * *

It was late at night, I realized. I stared up at the ceiling of my room within the Pendants. My body feeling a pleasant high while my brain tried to focus from the haze of sleep and blissful release from the last few hours. Celebrations that continued quite long into the night, showing a much more physical appreciation of my nameday. Thinking of it now brought a tingle though my body. As content I was at the present moment, the need to move was greater. Carefully I left my bed.

As careful as I could considering I was sandwiched between an Elezen and a Hyur quite adamant on lavishing me on physical affection.

Once I was up and dressed in more modest sleepwear, I stared at their sleeping forms. It was odd to think that in such a short time I would find myself in this setting. The me back then would have never scarcely believe myself being the focus of affection for two men. I shook my head from the thoughts and walked towards the dining table. My eyes scanned over each of the gifts given to me for my nameday as it reminded me how much I was cared for.

It was these reminders that help me see that I am more than my duty.

I poured myself a mug of water and began to drink from it. It wasn’t long before I heard the soft knocking. Who could have been out here so late, I wondered. The knocking grew a bit insistent, but never rising.

Most likely knowing the occupants in my quarters.

I opened the door, surprised it was G’raha on the other side. Still in his Exarch attire I see. His crimson eyes not quite looking at my blues while his hands wrung nervously. It reminded me of him approaching my room before we were to meet to discuss the last Lightwarden.

Had G’raha always been this shy?

“Forgive me for the late visit.” he spoke, “I did not want to...interrupt your prior engagements if I had came earlier.”

I shook my head at him, blushing that he indeed knew exactly what was going on.

“It’s fine. What can I do for you?”

“Walk with me?” he asked.

I stood at the threshold of my door for a moment, thinking of his request. It did not escape my notice that he was awfully quiet during the get-together. I had wanted to thank him as well since he was the other half of the celebration even happening. But then I was whisked away before I could get a word in.

“If you’re gonna go,” came Thancred’s sleepy murmur, “go.”

My head instantly turned to my bed. Only to meet gazes with Urianger. The sheet had pooled around his waist, giving me quite an eyeful of his bare chest. Even after all this time, it still takes me by surprise how fit he actually is under the robes.

“If there is aught thou yet wouldst say to another, prithee go and do so” he spoke, absently stroking Thancred’s hair.

I don’t think he knew he was doing that consciously; or maybe he did with how his gaze softened so at the touches.

“- that any further distractions may be far from thy mind tonight.”

I nodded. Not that I needed their permission, but I felt comforted all the same of their acceptance of the late night excursion. I slipped on a pair of shoes before closing the door behind me. G’raha seemed surprised at my choice of attire, refraining from any comments on it. The walk was quiet, save for the workings of those who were on the nightly shift of the city. A sense of peace washed over me every time I walked through the Crystarium, it felt like home for me. Many minutes passed in this mutual silence until we walked up the stairs of one of the watchtowers looking over the city.

The very same I was told was G’raha’s favorite spot which transformed into mines as well.

From there we stared at the Crystal Tower. A wave of nostalgia filled me, yes it was reminiscent of the night before we ventured into the void. It seemed he too reached the same thought, if the wistful gaze towards the tower was any indication.

“Thank you for seeing me so late, my friend.”

“No trouble.” I waved off, “It’s the least I can do. You’re the other half why we celebrated my nameday.”

He settled into a smile then. He took some breaths, setting his eyes towards me once more. There was a different air around us. Something set by the wealth of changes both of us had gone through from that night on the Eight Sentinels.

“I cannot help to feel like the young man from then being like this.” he admitted.

He grabbed something from his robes before pressing it into my hands. It was a small box, I realized. I blinked at the container before looking up at him once more. A smattering of a blush across his face as he absently scratched at his crystallized cheek.

“Before you can protest, I wanted to at least give you a gift. The others may have prohibited my involvement with planning but they said nothing of gifts.”

I frowned at him slightly before setting out another sigh. I reluctantly accepted the box and opened it. For a solid moment I was stilled from shock. My eyes settled on the item quickly glancing at him before looking back down at the item once more.

“If I could, I would give all of myself for you. But I hope this is enough.”

I couldn’t help the full on blush creeping onto my skin. Very few moments in life now catch me genuinely off guard, this was one of them. Was he-? I shook my head. He couldn’t have. He knew now of my situation.

“Raha,” I began to say in a firm tone, “It’s a ring.”

“Yes, it is.”

“But it’s a ring.” I say again.

His brows knitted close, thinking of my statement. It must have been a full minute before they rose, his ears rising too. That blush bloomed as he came close to being just as red as part of his hair.

“Oh...no.” he finally said, “Oh! I-I had only meant that I wished to fight by your side more. To help more than I had prior. I did not mean-that isn’t to say that what I feel for you isn’t similar but...Ah! Forget I said that!”

I watched as he fretted about his words. He seemingly confessed more than he intended. Seeing him so brought a chuckle out of me, rising until it was a full laugh. Tears started rolling down my face at him. He noticed my state, frowning a little but eventually joining in the laughs too.

“I’m sorry,” I said between fits of laughter, “I am not laughing at you. Just, I missed this.”

The sounds of our joined laughs kept on for quite a while. When it settled enough we both were sitting on the ground. As I regained my composure, I put the ring on my index finger. It was a perfect fit. I was a bit suspect how exactly my ring size was known so readily. But that would be a question for another time. It was slight, but I felt the hidden power behind the jewelry. It was simple; something that actually fit with what I preferred in my gear. I slung an arm around his shoulders and brought him close to my side. I felt him stiffen at the touch, eventually relaxing into it.

“Thank you Raha. For everything.”

I touched at my heart with my free hand.

I released my arm from his shoulder and hugged my knees to my chest. I let out a small breath as I looked towards the Crystal Tower once more.

“You called me your inspiration. But I feel the opposite is true as well.” I confessed.

He turned to look at me, eyes widening in shock.

“I had decided I was going to work harder so that when you awoke, the realm would be far better than the state it was when you slept. Even as the weight of the path became heavy to bear at times. You had inspired me to keep going even if I felt less than adequate for the task. I have Her Blessing, but when you strip that away what else is the-ah. Forgive me, you called me out here and here I am unloading my burdens.”

“No! No, please. Continue, I want to hear it all. I feel honored that you trust me with your burdens my friend.”

It took a moment but I nodded. Hearing him call me his friend made it easier. Whether it was the atmosphere around us or the realization I was older now made it easier to give words to these thoughts.

“Some times I think if I did not have Hydaelyn’s blessing, what else is there to me? I see the people I fight with and wonder how I found myself into their fold. I’m not as smart as Urianger and Y’shtola. I cannot gather information like Thancred can. I barely know how to broker diplomatic relationships like Alphinaud. And Alisaie, she goes to her convictions with such zeal that I can’t even began to imitate. Even Ryne, as new as she was, has taken to the legacy she inherited and molded it into her own self. I look at all of them and then look at myself.”

G’raha did not say anything for a long time. I feared that I had said too much for him. I did not want anyone else to feel guilt over these words. I heard the shuffle of him standing up and moving. It wasn’t for long before he stood over me, looking intently into my eyes. He seemed to glow with the back light of the night sky and the Crystal Tower’s illumination.

“That might quite possibly be true.” he conceded, “You do not have quite the same extensive qualities the other Scions do. But are you aware of what you do have? Kindness, a readiness to help others on your own accord. Oh how I hear about your praises all around the city. Your knowledge of topics may not be as vast, but you acknowledge it and try to make an effort to expand it. Whenever the others report while you are resting, nary any report goes by without some mention of the gratitude of what your presence brings to the table. You have an inner strength Ami. An inner strength so beautiful and shining that it draws others towards you. It drew me towards you, it was how I knew you would be remembered by all walks of life my dearest friend. That is something that was never blessed upon you, it’s always there and can never be stripped away. Remember that when the weight of your burdens become too much.”

I fell silent at his words as it pulled at my chest. I was almost ready to cry. To hear those words so fervently. Somewhere within I should have known this. But I hadn’t and it took this to realize it. His hands reached out and touched at my cheeks, wiping the stray tears away. His expression softened.

“No tears. Your partners would be quite displeased if I returned you in such a state.”

I laughed lightly as I rose from my seat. I nodded to myself before gathering G’raha into an embrace. The little mewl of surprise did not escape my ears and only spurned me to use my physical strength to lift him up a touch off the ground.

“Thanks Raha.” I said again, “My dearest friend. Thank you.”

#shit writing #writing things #fan fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #Final Fantasy XIV #Final Fantasy 14 #FFXIV #FF14 #5.0 spoilers #In which my WoL gets outed for being in a poly relationship #Thancred/WoL/Urianger #LISTEN I WILL DIE ON THIS SHIPPING HILL #Ami loves them both and there's nothing you can say that will change my mind #Ami got banged on her nameday offscreen #RYNE JUST HAS TWO DUMBASS DADS AND A SISTER MOM NOW #There's also some UriThan if you squint #and not so subtle WoL/Exarch

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starswornoaths · 3 years

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A Little Fall of Rain - Commission!

A commission for the always lovely @anorptron, featuring an equally lovely Sage! Thank you so much for your support! \o/

Commission info!

cw: mentions of injury, mentions of death

5.0 spoilers ahead! Emet/WoL

After the sin eater attack on Lakeland, the Scions are at an all time low. Their morale is shattered, the high of their emotional and personal victories stolen from them by Vauthry’s cruelty.

And Emet-Selch should have been happy about that, so why wasn’t he?

After raising up and guiding both the Allag and Garlean Empires with his own hands, after dedicating multiple lifetimes to serving as both the Architect that built such civilizations to soaring heights, and the Harbinger of their downfall, Emet-Selch was more than aware of the delicate balance one had to strike between benevolence and wrath. When the time was right to be gentle and nurturing to a fledgling civilization, and when to bring his might as a sorcerer of eld to bear in order to tear it down at its zenith.

Despite being one of his more resounding successes in sowing those seeds of chaos, Vauthry had no such natural affinity for wielding his authoritarian power with any semblance of grace or dexterity. Even in victory, Vauthry couldn’t help but act as a gloating child, jeering from an overhead loud speaker attached to his personal airship.

It didn’t even matter that they were on the same side, technically: the sound of it alone was enough to grate on Emet-Selch’s patience.

Vauthry’s bellowing, made tinny through the speaker he was projected through, rang sharply in his ears even now, after those gaudy Eulmoran airships had long since taken off for brighter skies. Even with the heaviness of the rainfall that had happened during the battle, and the fat droplets that yet stubbornly continued to fall in the ensuing stillness, were nowhere near as weighty as the defeat they suffered, nor the weight of the insult that Vauthry heaped upon them, on top of it all.

Emet-Selch should be happy. He should be pleased with the progress that his plans have made, now that the final pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into place. He should have taken this victory and rode its high as long as he could and just basked in it. The sin eaters besieging the already beleaguered people of the Crystarium— at the height of their hope, no less! — should have been the definitive moment of triumph that he had always thought it would be, his just reward for having played his part so perfectly.

So why did it all ring so hollow?

The wounded and dying soldiers, battered in both body and pride, barely paid him notice as he drifted about Fort Jobb as a wraith: silent, looming, practically gliding around the writhing and the eerily still alike. It was hardly a new experience, all but floating among the dead and the dying, and he paid it no mind.

“The tragedy that has befallen you is of your own making. Divine retribution for your defiance.” He distinctly recalled Vauthry taunting.

Cruel for both the callousness of the words and the lack of truth to them; those who dwelled on the First were hardly responsible for the circumstances that led them to this point— in particular when it was the Ancients that guided them to their fate, even before the Ancients themselves fully understood how they had arbitrated over their now fractured world.

They weren’t even people, these frail, fading fragments. It wasn’t their fault they couldn’t stand up to destiny. Not even the Ancients could, once.

They weren’t his concern, besides. Hawkish gold eyes scanned the crumpled forms in search of someone familiar. In search of one soul in particular, though if any of those other miscreants were scuttling about, they would do: they would all lead him back to Sage.

It was ultimately the mistrustful gunblade wielder that Emet-Selch found first. Just as well; judging by the purposeful strides he was taking, he was going somewhere in a hurry. Keen on tracking down the Warrior of Light amid the aftermath of such a struggle but not wanting to have to subject himself to this particular buffoon’s empty words and threats, the Ascian hung back and observed from the shadows, as he did best.

A ponderous frown marred his face when he realized that Thancred was not, in fact, approaching the Warrior of Light, but instead speaking with one of the less wounded Crystarium guards. What benefit of the doubt he might have been inclined to give the Scion was promptly dashed when he then moved on to checking in on that discarded little shard of Hydaelyn’s voice— she had a new name, he vaguely recalled with disinterest. With a huff of frustration, he moved on to the next Scion.

That sorceress provided more promising results, for a blessing, as she did not tarry in tracking Sage down— but then, she’d admittedly not had to look far, as he was helping one of the wounded to her for healing just as she had begun her search for him. Feeling charitable— or perhaps, pitying them when they were at their lowest, Emet-Selch silently decided that this would make them even for him ripping her out of the lifestream.

Sage himself was unsurprisingly nondescript as he helped that granddaughter of the Exarch’s into one of the cots that had been haphazardly set up for triage of the battered battalion.

Y’Shtola clicked her tongue in admonishment, even as she helped ease Captain Lyna down with him. The moment Lyna was settled, Sage withdrew and awkwardly straightened— awkwardly, because of the way it seemed like he couldn’t quite straighten himself to his full height. As if he were too injured to do so.

“Get yourself situated in one of the empty cots, Sage. I’ll be with you as soon as—”

“I’m not wounded.” Sage lied, hands attempting to be subtle as they cradled his side.

“Sage. I’m not completely blind. Nor a fool besides.” Y’Shtola pursed her lips, displeased, even as she had already begun to examine Lyna more meticulously. “You need tending to.”

The Raen’s face crinkled in an almost endearing way. “It’s nothing that can’t wait.” He insisted, unmoving and uncompromising as ever.

After a moment of scrutiny from the corner of her eye, Y’Shtola’s shoulders slumped, ever so slightly, as if in defeat.

“I will not beg you to lean on me, Sage. If you say you are well enough, so be it.”

Even Sage seemed surprised at her words, gaze flitting to the other Scions scattered about the triage center. The young boy twin in the blue coat, he seemed the most fretful, even as he continued to weave healing magicks on a soldier lying on the cot before him, with the assistance of his carbuncle. His sister winced as she looked away. That card flinging fae lover was nowhere to be found. If Emet-Selch had cared to guess beyond his indignation, he might have conceded that the man was simply using his healing magic elsewhere. The gunblade wielder sat on one of the cots, under the watchful eye of that little Oracle girl, both of them strangely silent.

When it was clear no one was going to truly argue with him, Sage took his leave and scurried off with a relieved expression on his face. Curiously, the Scions only looked all the more troubled for his leaving, even as they made no move to go to him.

He said nothing, and for a moment longer, observed from a distance. It was a curiosity, wanting to know how the Scions took Sage so obviously wounded and limping off, even as he felt a low roiling anger in the depths of his belly at how none of them even spared him a second glance as he left.

“I can’t heal stubbornness.” Y’Shtola all but growled, as if to herself, her focus on the injured Captain.

It surprised him to hear that frustration in her voice almost as much as her dismissal of Sage had been to begin with.

“Sage doesn’t like relying on us, you know that.” Thancred spoke, his voice oddly soft for how brusque the man had been in all the time Emet-Selch had known him.

They must not have realized he was standing there yet, still so caught up in attending to the wounded and shoring up what tattered defenses they had.

“But we are not leaving him to suffer.” Alphinaud piped up firmly, even as he didn’t look away from his task. “Once we’ve tended to the more immediate cases, he is getting healed.”

“As if that were in doubt.” Alisaie snorted, almost indignant.

Emet-Selch’s frown deepened. They might have thought that was truly good enough, but the thought of Sage being left in obvious agony for any length of time, even for reasons like this, sat poorly with him. Even disregarding what physical wounds he had, it was clear that Sage was already in obvious agony from the light that he had already absorbed.

And his task was not yet done! None of them were! Even as wounded and bleached out beyond all recognition as Sage was, those who purported themselves to be his dearest friends would leave him languish because he’s stubborn? Unacceptable.

“Let this be a lesson to all those who would walk the path of sin— the wicked shall not inherit this world!” Vauthry’s words again echoed in his mind. On that one point, they both agreed.

The writing was on the wall: things were looking grim for the Warrior of Darkness and his cohorts. If there was ever a moment for him to determine that Sage’s cause was unworthy, his abilities lacking, it would, sensibly, be here.

And Emet-Selch should have been happy about it, Zodiark take him. This should have been a moment to gloat.

If the Scions had at all noticed him at any point before, during, or after that, he didn’t stick around long enough to find out for himself. He had already melted into the dark, already uninterested in their petty meandering and their simpering, hand wringing uncertainty . Now that he knew where Sage was, and understood that he would not be able to well and truly enjoy this victory without knowing that his enemy was alright, there was nothing else for him to do but try to make sure Sage was hale and whole.

A complication in his plan, the Warrior of Light. Emet-Selch wasn’t supposed to care.

That fact didn’t stop him from easily catching up to Sage, didn’t stop him from emerging into the moonlight and making the effort to appear as though his arrival was entirely coincidental— or at least, antagonistic.

He had a reputation to uphold, after all.

“Well, well. What do we have here?” He purred as though he happened upon Sage by complete accident.

The Raen met his gaze evenly; it would seem that there was no patience between either of them for ruses and games. Just this once, given the circumstances, Emet-Selch couldn’t find it in him to be bothered by Sage’s stoicism. It shocked them both when he reached for the Bard and caught his chin in his hand. Even as his own actions startled him, Emet-Selch refused to show it, tipping his own chin up to pointedly stare down his nose at the Warrior of Light.

“You can’t just flit to and fro with such injuries.” He clucked his tongue in admonishment, and he felt his nose wrinkle in displeasure of its own accord when Sage winced.

“...Yeah.” Sage agreed quietly. “Didn’t want to worry them, but...I’ve been better.”

That admission was enough to shock Emet-Selch down to his bones. Sage couldn’t say that to the Scions, but he could admit it to his enemy? For what? To what end? He scrambled to make sense of it— what angle was Sage trying to play, what advantage—

Sage flinched again when he tried to move, and practically bit his tongue when he jolted out of Emet-Selch’s grip to curl into himself, as if to try and shield his body from the pain. It was such a reactionary, in-the-moment movement that it would have been almost impossible to fake.

He wouldn’t anyway, the thought occurred to him, even as he did not want it to.

Something akin to understanding, bone deep and centuries old, awakened in his chest when realization settled over him: like himself, Sage felt more comfortable being weak with someone who was an active threat to him than let himself be vulnerable in the company of his comrades.

After a long moment where neither of them dared to move, Sage deflated around a sigh, and stole the breath from the Architect’s lungs altogether when he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against the shoulder padding of his coat.

The contact made him seize up bodily in spite of himself. The two of them had always, always had distance between them, physically. It had been a safety precaution— on both their parts, he imagined— and it had been preferred. To have that line crossed, not with violence but with vulnerability, was a situation that he had never thought would come to pass. Most of all, because he never believed either of them would ever allow for such vulnerability to exist in the first place.

Most worrying of all, in particular for him, was that he was not repulsed by this new nearness, but instead bent his head down and curled, ever so slightly, into that horrifying new lack of space between them.

“...Sage?” Emet-Selch called his name quietly. He wasn’t sure whether he should be upset or not that his name felt natural to say, despite having never said it once before as anything but a curse, what few times he had said it at all.

He wasn’t even sure how that name felt on his tongue, when not wielded as a weapon to be brandished at the hero.

“Sorry.” The Bard mumbled, and swayed dangerously on his feet. “...Sorry—”

At the buckle of Sage’s knees, Emet-Selch’s arms were wrapped around him to keep him from collapsing onto himself in a heap, and though the motion made the Warrior of Light gasp in pain and clutch and claw at the back of the Ascian’s coat, Emet-Selch remained gentle, shushing him as he carefully knelt with Sage in his arms.

Every tender feeling he had buried since he had lost his first Imperial son rose to the surface, burning the otherwise numb and bitter bones of him. Even as he winced at the way it made the hollow of his chest ache, he held on just as tenderly to Sage, with no less care. In that moment, something inexplicable and undefinable had gripped his very soul, and something about the predicament they now found themselves in made Emet-Selch feel as though all he had in the world who might understand him was the man in his arms.

“Stubborn fool, playing at normalcy while you’re falling apart,” said the Architect, fond even in his insults. His voice was strangely thick with emotions he couldn’t name and daren’t examine. “What ever am I to do with you?”

Any response that Sage might have given him was cut off when he choked back a noise of pain again. He shifted, just barely, in Emet-Selch’s arms to ease the pressure off of his wounds, inadvertently pressing himself deeper in his enemy’s arms.

“Need to be strong for them.” Sage ground out, as if to chastise himself, through his clenched teeth.

The words were half grumbled into the front of Emet-Selch’s coat, almost inaudible for what trickle of raindrops still pattered against their coats. Sage’s broad hands clutched at the back of his coat with such a desperation that he heard the thick cloth creak under the strain of his grip. He felt his heart squeeze in his throat. Even now, even beaten down so low, Sage would still wrestle with himself and rally every bit of strength he had in himself to fight. And for what? A group of ingrates that didn’t understand how much Sage mattered? Or if they saw, they did next to nothing to show it?

“No, you don’t.” He said darkly before he could stop himself.

Sage looked up at him, but Emet-Selch was already overwhelmed, and avoided his gaze as he took a moment to swallow his heart. It still pressed hard against his throat when he spoke again, voice thick with everything he denied feeling.

“Do you not understand how tales work, hero?” He asked. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “I didn’t spend entire lifetimes as Emperors that built the arts just for story structure to be ignored.”

“This isn’t a fairytale, Emet-Selch.” Sage shook his head, still trying— and failing— to keep himself from grimacing.

“Isn’t it?” He challenged. “Or have you already forgotten your role, hero? This is your low point. Your rock bottom before the triumphant rise. This is no time for you to hide your wounds away and act tough, or else you won’t be ready for the finale.”

The silence that Sage answered him with stretched on, marked only by the faint pitter patter of raindrops trickling down from the heavens again, inconsistent and faint as they were. It barely registered to the two men huddled around one another. Almost nothing else mattered but them in that moment.

At that point, there wasn’t much left to matter outside of them, for how thoroughly beaten down and all but decimated the Crystarium’s resistance was.

Sage looked up at him, and it was so, so hard to hold that piercing gaze when he was looking up at him so imploringly. Those eyes were too familiar for him to dismiss as a stranger’s gaze, but too different to let himself believe that he was fine with settling for this shard of his former friend.

Too enchanting to pull away from.

“If you keep staring at me so, hero...I might think you are expecting something.” Emet-Selch managed around the lump in his throat.

With the ongoing history of Sage flustering at such ribbing, he’d been all but praying to Zodiark that another such instance would be enough to snap the Warrior of Light out of such a state. Anything to bring back that tinge of strangeness with this new-old friend of his.

“A kiss, maybe.”

Sage’s lips had barely wrapped around the last of his words before the look on his face told Emet-Selch all he needed to know: he had not meant to say that. The slack, shocked expression, the way his body tensed impossibly more, even through the agony and the injury, was enough for Emet-Selch to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that this was no ploy, no feint to try and catch his enemy on the back foot; in truth, Emet-Selch wasn’t even sure there was anything Sage could do in his condition, even if the doubt had been given any chance to take proper root in his mind.

Sage truly meant it. He wanted to kiss him. He might have laughed had he not been sent reeling by the revelation.

“And why would you want that, exactly? From me, no less?” He snorted before he could stop himself. When Sage tried to duck his head, Emet-Selch’s gloved hand shot out to hold his face there by the chin to force him to maintain their eye contact; if he couldn’t look away, then neither could Sage. “Ah, ah, ah, honesty is preferable among allies, is it not?”

“‘M no fool, Emet-Selch. I know this means all bets are off between us.” Sage ground out around another wince of pain. “Is it so awful to want a soft goodbye?”

Somehow, despite how adept he was at laying out blueprints for a plan aeons in advance, the thought hadn’t even occurred to the Architect, to end their alliance here. After one loss, even one as catastrophic as this? Even as Sage’s purported enemy, that struck him as grossly uncharitable, even were he to not account for the victories that had led the Scions here.

“Were you not listening, hero?” He sneered down his nose at the battered Bard. “I told you. This is your low point. Your rock bottom before the triumphant rise.”

When Sage opened his mouth— to retort, to gawk, it didn’t matter— Emet-Selch sealed it with his own.

Despite the man asking for it, Emet-Selch expected some level of resistance, some sort of tension, something to imply that Sage had some sort of misgiving. Something to tell him that this was wrong, that they were wrong for bridging that divide between enemies in search of something softer.

There was no sign to be found, and its absence doomed them both.

Sage all but melted into him, those large hands of his moving in the scant space between them to clutch and claw at his robes, to pull him closer, as if breathing him in would be enough to mend the wounds and the light that have ravaged his body. His grip was so strong, Emet-Selch could hear the leather and the dense fabric of his coat creak between his fingertips. For a moment, it felt as though it were his heart that Sage was squeezing for the rush of endearment that hit him. It was enough for him to cup Sage’s face in his gloved hand, enough to inspire gentleness in him that he had long forgotten.

When had he last kissed someone, and so earnestly? His last wife, when he was the young Garlean Emperor, perhaps, but even then, his attachments to mortals were typically ephemeral, fleeting. He had made the mistake of loving the families he had helped to build, only for them to be lost to him all over again. As if Zodiark himself punished him for straying, for forgetting his first family, from an all but forgotten time when he didn’t know the fear of losing those he loved.

Sage should have been no different. He should have been a passing curiosity, a flickering comet streaking across the night sky, momentary and easily forgotten. Not this...this aching, raw reminder of the person he used to be, even as every detail that did not match the friend he remembered was as a knife to his heart.

There was a passing temptation, an itch, beneath Emet-Selch’s skin to rip his gloves off, to feel the Warrior of Light’s skin and scales beneath his fingertips— but that would require him letting go of Sage. The thought of it rankled something dark and possessive, awakened that long slumbering want to covet and keep.

That wriggling want nestled itself beside that longstanding ache for the one that came before, the one that had shattered into so many fragments and scattered them among the stars. That this fragment was warm and familiar and solid was enough to stir Zodiark into pulling hard at the back of his mind— remember. Remember who you have lost. Remember who I can yet save.

Emet-Selch buried all of it— the whispers of his Lord, the almost-familiarity, the passing impulse, and his fingers, all in Sage’s hair when he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. It was hard to block out all of those warring thoughts, the thundering of his own heart, all of it, but the taste of Sage on his tongue made that struggle worthwhile.

In truth, it was harder for either of them to know where one ended and the other began anymore— or what any of this meant for them going forward.

It startled him, how reluctant he was to pull away from Sage. By all rights, it should have been nothing but a performative gesture, a hollow token of false affection. It should have made him feel nothing. As it stood, it felt like he were drowning, it felt like he could not breathe for fear of letting even more of Sage into his very being, but he couldn’t help but gasp deeper between kisses. Intoxicated, he could only let Sage rest his weight bodily against him and hold him as tightly as he dared for Sage’s injuries.

With some paltry space between them, Emet-Selch thought, however foolishly, however desperately, that he might regain some of his good sense. But then Sage took longer than him to open his eyes, and oh, but that dreamy, dazed expression and the slow blink at him was almost enough to inspire further foolishness and kiss him again. He was fearful that he would never stop, and they would never get anywhere.

The expression on Sage’s face made it plain that there was something he wanted to say, but a worrying pop from somewhere around his hanging ribs sent him flinching as far away as the circle of Emet-Selch’s arms allowed him with a gasp of pain. It was enough to remind Emet-Selch that he was in desperate need of care. Care that he had run from when it was offered— the sweet fool. Such a pitiful state didn’t suit him.

When Emet-Selch tutted in gentle admonishment, Sage stilled, and again, those eyes captivated him, even wide and gawking as they were. Even the facade of irritability couldn’t withstand such an earnest expression, and he gentled, the hand that had held Sage’s face close once more bridging the distance between them, molding to his cheek. Even as he couldn’t feel much through his glove, he smoothed his thumb back and forth across Sage’s cheekbone.

“Mark me, hero,” Emet-Selch said softly, in the most authoritative tone he could muster, even knowing that he couldn’t muster much in the wake of the tumultuous tides of his heart. “This maudlin pall ill suits you. This is not the end— not of your struggles, and thus, not of our truce.”

Sage’s expression twisted into one of pain again— emotional and physical both— and a part of Emet-Selch hated that he had to put such a weighty mantle on his shoulders again. Even on opposing sides of the conflict, it was undeniable that the both of them were the Scions of their people. The last bastion of hope and love and grief, meant to stem the tide of the other.

Despite the inevitability of their fate, Sage was brilliant enough to make Emet-Selch dare to hope, even through the tempering and his own resignation at their destined clash.

And the Warrior of Light needed that hope to be rekindled in him, to spur him to go on, Emet-Selch realized, and made a point to look down his nose at Sage as he gripped his chin to force his gaze to stay on him.

“If you’re so desperate to beg your enemy for a kiss, then let me promise you another, when you can show me the night sky in Kholusia.”

Sage’s eyes widened impossibly further. His mouth opened to try and speak, but even through feeling the muscle of his jaw as he tried to work out what words to say, Emet-Selch didn’t let go of his chin.

“Sage!” Another voice called out breathlessly, shattering whatever spell they had cast on one another.

It was enough to get Sage to wrench his head free of Emet-Selch’s grasp. He snapped his focus to his approaching comrade— the astrologian one, for the life of him, Emet-Selch couldn’t find it in him to care enough to remember his name.

“Urianger—” Sage gasped.

Ahh, that had been his name, then. Or perhaps a choked back sneeze. Emet-Selch didn’t particularly care one way or the other in that moment.

Though a part of Emet-Selch was relieved to have the trance they had fallen into broken, it still startled him how much of himself was so reluctant to extricate himself from Sage; he had thought that the moment he remembered himself, it would be repulsed by his own behavior, his own fondness— weakness— for Sage, but even in that moment as he saw the elezen approach, he could only mourn the end of this moment for what it was.

Still, it wouldn’t do to let that weakness be visible— as the Ascian Architect, Emet-Selch had a reputation to uphold, after all. Though he, too, had turned his head in the direction of the approaching Scion, he glanced back at Sage, still loosely in his grip, from the corner of his eye. Half out of habit, and half out of fondness, the corner of his lips curled into a grin on its own.

“Best get to it, then, hero.” He said. “I’m an impatient paramour. Tick tock.”

Sage couldn’t stop himself from tightening his hold on the front of Emet-Selch’s coat in a desperate bid to keep him there, even as he knew better than to hope that the Architect wouldn’t fade into the shadows, out of his reach.

Again.

All the same, he clung to that comforting, somehow familiar presence until it literally slipped through his fingers, wisps of smoke and shadow and not of this world. A grim reminder of their differences— and of what fate will have in store for them, should Sage fail to hold up his end of their agreement.

He opened his hand, staring down at his empty palm, and tried not to contemplate such grim thoughts.

When Sage tried to stand on his own, he was reminded of the other wounds he bore that forced him to his knees in the first place. For a blessing, rather than having to brace for crashing back to earth after barely managing more than a crouch, it was Urianger’s arm looped through his arms, around his back, that kept him from that jarring impact.

“Be at ease— I have thee.” Urianger reassured, the arm not holding him upright as he straightened glimmering with starlight and gently laid over Sage’s chest. “Thou mayest seek the comfort of the Architect, as is thy prerogative, I wouldst only beg thee to not do so to escape relying on thy friends.”

“Uri—” Sage winced, tempted to avert his eyes.

“I beseech thee, hark to mine words: we art here for thou, as comrades and family alike. We always have been, even as we hath failed to support thee as we should have.”

Maybe it was Urianger’s healing magic, but even his words acted as a balm on Sage’s battered soul. Reluctant as he might be to believe it, he could only look at the evidence— and when he forced his head up at the sound of more approaching footsteps to see Y’Shtola, Alphinaud, and Thancred in tow, he couldn’t help but believe that they truly wanted to bridge that gap that had always been there, between them.

“Forgive our delay— we only waited so long as we did for the Crystarium healers to arrive.” Y’Shtola spoke, her voice much gentler than it had been when Sage left them at the triage tents. “Alisaie is preparing a bed for you with Chessamile as we speak. Come, let us help you.”

“No need for the fuss—” Sage tried to insist, when Thancred, swift as the wind itself, swooped in— quite literally— to lift Sage’s legs so he was suspended between himself and Urianger’s efforts.

“Sage, you might not open up to us as much as we might hope, but we’re not stupid. There is absolutely a need for the fuss. Now let us fuss.”

Alphinaud nodded in agreement, but his efforts were focused on joining his healing magic to Urianger’s. Even just the immediate relief of not feeling any of the pain from his wounds was enough to flood Sage’s every sense with contentment, though that feeling was immediately chased with the sheer exhaustion he hadn’t been able to feel through the pain and the stubbornness and his own aching heart, twisted and conflicted and longing as it was for a living shadow now beyond his reach.

“All will be well, Sage. Thou needs but have faith.” Urianger promised him, as he had done for Ryne before him.

As he faded off, rocked to sleep by the gentle swaying of Urianger’s and Thancred’s coordinated footfalls, Sage made a desperate wish: let me one day believe that, even as he had just enough faith to fall asleep in their company and know that he was safe and taken care of. Between the healing magic and the calm that swept through him, it was easy to drift away to slumber, even as he could feel the little pinpricks of raindrops tapping at his skin and scales.

He paid it no mind. What was a little fall of rain, after all?

#injury cw #death mention cw #ffxiv #writing commissions #anorptron #Sage Bradley #Emet-Selch #5.0 spoilers #shadowbringers spoilers #thank you again for the commission!!!#this was so fun to work on and your boy is such a joy to write!#poor sage ;m; plz let people love youuuuu.......

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katzenkrieg · 4 years

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Loredump: FFXIV Ships I Sail

I have a massive loredump (see link in my bio) I work on updating occasionally, recording all kinds of details on my WoL, paladin Camille Delane, and his journey to date. Just got done with outlining all of the ships both with and without the WoL that I sail so far. (I’m sure I’ve missed some, of course!)

Spoilers through all of the ShB and 5.x!

Ships I Sail:

With the WoL:

Cam/Cid (headcanon) - my canon couple. They got together after ARR but before the events of Heavensward and have been a casually out/public couple ever since. After returning from the First, Cam immediately proposed to Cid. Cid’s accepted, but they won’t have the ceremony until they’ve fished a significant part of Cam’s found family back from the First somehow.

Cam/Nero (headcanon) - They’ve either had sex at least once already or will have in the future. There’s just too much sexual tension and rivalry between them when it comes to Cid--and Cid’s genuinely *not* interested in Nero romantically or sexually, so Nero can’t *do* much with his sexual tension/attraction towards Cid except redirect it at Cam. This doesn’t mess up Cam and Cid’s relationship, because Nero is actually much easier to deal with when *someone* is fucking him, and Cid’s fine with accepting Cam and Nero being together now and then as background noise to he and Cam’s relationship.

Cam/Ardbert (headcanon) - During his time in the First, Cam became increasingly lonely and isolated from the other Scions. Ardbert was the only person he could be completely honest with about his fears, doubts, and growing sense that he would be inevitably separated from his humanity, his mortality, and his friends and family. For Ardbert, Cam was the only person he could talk to at all, of course! They eventually got creative and formed a romantic-sexual relationship, despite the fact they couldn’t actually touch. Cam’s been honest about this with Cid, but if Cid’s not bothered by Cam and Nero occasionally getting together, he’s definitely not bothered by Cam having a relationship with a...ghost that also shared a soul with Cam. Cid’s not even going to pretend he can form any judgments on something that metaphysical.

Cam/Feo Ul (canon) - Cam’s decided that whatever forming a compact with a pixie means, it’s...a lot closer to an ownership relationship than the casual way the Exarch suggested Cam form one with Feo Ul would suggest. After being scolded and praised in equal measure by Feo Ul just about every time they’ve been face-to-face, and having them offer to possibly betray their entire world and lead it to inevitable destruction just to keep him safe and alive, Cam has realized he has an ally for life and beyond, even if that ally sees him as something a bit like a beautiful pet or flower--sweet, fleeting, and never knowing what’s best for it. Though the relationship isn’t sexual/romantic, it’s incredibly strong. (And, yes, I would 100% read/write Feo Ul as the Faery King dom/ming the WoL, so the not sexual/romantic part is only in canon, not in “awyeah, plot bunnies” one-shot and AU scenarios.)

Cam/Unrequited Aymeric (canon) - Aymeric is definitely in a combination of love/hero worship with Cam, but Cam doesn’t reciprocate the feelings. Sorry, Aymeric!

Cam/Unrequited Haurchefant (canon) - Cam would have loved Haurchefant back romantically/sexually if he could--Haurchefant’s love was so obvious, genuine, and no-strings-attached. Cam still sometimes feels guilt that he just didn’t have the same feelings in return. He still valued Haurchefant’s friendship highly and counts his loss as one of the lowest moments of his time as the Warrior of Light.

Cam/Unrequited Crystal Exarch (canon) - Cam’s not aware of this one at all, but the Exarch is so nervous around and concerned about him, it’s obvious to others (such as Emet-Selch and Alisaie).

Cam/Unrequited Zenos (headcanon) - Zenos has no healthy boundaries at all, and his obsession with Cam has a sexual--and, of course, predatory--element. Cam is extremely not interested.

Cam’s Ascian antecedent/Emet-Selch (canon) - They were definitely incredibly close and important to each other in some way. Whether this was sexual or platonic remains to be seen, but there was a romantic aspect to the relationship in either case.

Unrequited Cam/Moenbryda (headcanon) - Cam would gladly have made his interest in Moenbryda clear if her own interest in Urianger wasn’t so obvious. As it was, though he was attracted to her and greatly enjoyed any time they were able to work (and fight) together, he chose not to say anything. He thinks Moenbryda was aware of it at some level, but he believes Urianger never noticed. (Urianger did notice; he’s just never brought it up.) Moenbryda’s death, like Haurchefant’s, is one that still hits Cam hard, especially because he had so little time to get to know her.

Unrequited Cam/Ysayle (headcanon) - As a fellow Echo-bearer, Ysayle had quite a bit in common with Camille--not only in terms of knowing what it felt like to have the Echo, but also in her commitment to her ideals and to her allies. Cam admired her determination, dedication, and idealism, even though they came at a cost to her and to others; Cam’s own motivations tend to be less abstract and more based in his love for his family, friends, and world. He made a few clumsy attempts to show his interest, and Ysayle looked right past them, apparently without recognizing them for what they were. As time wore on, Cam decided it wasn’t fair to her for him to try to distract her from her goals and ideals (though, honestly, he could have done a great deal of good by distracting her at least a bit--perhaps if someone had pulled her closer to the earth in her relationships and goals, she might have chosen to live instead of sacrifice herself!). He settled on continuing to admire her and support her. Her loss is another sharp sore spot in his time as Warrior of Light.

Cam/Urianger (potential, AU) - as of Shadowbringers, I could actually see this happening during their time in the First, but *only* if, for some strange reason, Urianger and Thancred didn’t end up together. It would also definitely happen in the Faery King AU. Urianger clearly is fascinated by the fae and also just as clearly feels like he has to carry the emotional burden of any strange, life-altering transformative choices his friends make, in relation to the fate of the First, so if Cam became fae, Urianger would quickly become fascinated and protective/possessive in an understated way. Cam would benefit from having a mortal who knew *him* as a mortal and also knows a great deal about the fae to help him navigate his new existence and would reciprocate easily.

Cam/Lyse (potential, AU) - in canon/headcanon, they’re extremely close but in a siblings/platonic fashion. If Cid hadn’t been in the picture, however, Lyse and Cam might have become a romantic/sexual couple. He certainly loves her and is more at home with her than with any of the other Scions.

Without the WoL:

Unrequited Alisaie/Tesleen (headcanon) - Alisaie’s grief over Tesleen’s loss, I read as more than the loss of just a friend, comrade, and peer role model/mentor; whether Alisaie ever articulated it to herself or not, she felt an attraction to Tesleen. Tesleen’s loss--the loss of the first potential for a deep love-based same-sex relationship that she represented--will stay with Alisaie forever. If Alisaie comes out and establishes a firm queer identity later, articulating her feelings to herself and to Tesleen’s memory will be a major part of it.

Alisaie/Ryne (potential, headcanon) - Ryne seems quite interested in being around Alisaie and spending time with her during the Scions’ time in Amaurot. It’s quick and subtle, but I could easily see a crush developing between the two, with Ryne initiating the relationship.

Urianger/Thancred (headcanon) - They married (in all but name, at least). I wouldn’t have seen this ship coming prior to Shadowbringers, but boy is it clear they’ve reached an old-married-couple ‘I support his goofinesses and foibles even if I don’t get them’ level of just being around and covering for each other during their time in the First. They haven’t outed themselves publicly to the other Scions yet, but everyone knows anyway.

Y’shtola/Runar (potential, canon) - If Y’shtola doesn’t yet see how much Runar admires and loves her and wants to care for and support her--and show her how wonderful she is, in his opinion--it’s only because she’s deliberately not seeing it--or accepting it. Y’shtola doesn’t have any models in her past for good romantic relationships; Matoya actively pushed away others and distanced herself even in close family relationships, never mind romantic relationships. Y’shtola does the same, even though it’s not necessary for her to do so--and, in fact, might even hurt herself and others. Runar’s going to keep trying, though, and whether she ever reciprocates or not, he won’t waver.

Unrequited Nero/Cid (canon) - Nero envy-lusts after Cid. Cid had everything Nero could ever want--position, attention from the those in power, resources, talent--and then he *threw it away.* And not only that, he threw it away and the Empire didn’t immediately give all the recognition Cid had relinquished to Nero. *And* Cid himself seems oblivious to how much he had and how much Nero wanted what he had. Unacceptable! Clearly the only way to fix this is for Nero to make himself impossible to ignore and convince Cid to tie him to a bed somewhere and finally act like he *notices* how much Nero wants his attention. Cid, however, remains completely oblivious and uninterested. Cid’s one of those people who’s attracted to one person and *only* after that person has taken the initiative in suggesting/establishing a romantic/sexual relationship. That one person is Cam. Sorry, Nero, you weren’t ever going to win this one.

Platonic Yugiri/Hien (canon) - Yugiri views her relationship with Hien as permanent and primary--her service to him is her guiding relationship in life, much as Lucia’s is to Aymeric. It’s also completely platonic and requires no romantic reciprocation from Hien. Which is good, because Hien is...likely not entirely (or at least not consciously) aware of the depth of Yugiri’s dedication to him.

Platonic Thancred/Minfilia (canon) - Thancred’s feelings for Minfilia have been a bit mixed over the course of his life, I think, which is part of why he struggles to express them so much, but I do believe the bedrock of how he feels towards her is familial--as a sibling and a younger sister. He’s probably tried to think of it as or push it towards romance in the past, as that would be easier for him to deal with--and possibly easier for him to devalue and dismiss. Fortunately, Minfilia wasn’t having it, and Thancred has always been forced back to looking at his relationship straight-on -- as that of an older brother who thought of himself as the protector and was eventually no longer needed in that role. Until right up to Minfilia’s final Rejoining with Ryne, Thancred still wasn’t able to reconcile Minfilia’s choosing her own path and not requiring his protection with his love for her as a sister/family and his own conception of himself as her older brother figure; only finally admitting that she had gone beyond him, to places he couldn’t follow, allowed him to accept the truth of their relationship and put it in place in his mind and identity.

Platonic Lucia/Aymeric (canon) - Much as Yugiri is platonically committed to Hien, without any need of romantic reciprocation, Lucia has chosen to commit her life to Aymeric and his ideals. Unlike Hien, Aymeric is very much aware of the depth of Lucia’s commitment and respects and deeply appreciates it.

Unrequited Estinien/Ysayle (headcanon) - Estinien went from anger, resentment, and scorn towards Ysayle to, eventually, being intrigued by and drawn to her and seeing similarities between his own unbending self-isolating ideals and hers. Whether he ever reached true respect for her, completely free of pity or scorn, is an entirely different question. On Ysayle’s part, she noticed any subtleties in Estinien’s feelings and behavior towards her about as much as she noticed Cam’s--which is to say, not at all. Ysayle was very much fighting her own internal battle up until the very moment of her death, and the dating scene and what various adventurer-warrior types around her felt about her was nowhere on her radar.

Estinien/Gaius (potential) - Estinien spends time with no one (except for Aymeric and Ysayle and sometimes Cam…) and suddenly he’s spending almost all of his free time running around with Gaius? Come on, y’all, something’s up. Dish, Estinien.

Estinien/Aymeric (potential) - Whether they’ve been together in the past or will be together in the future...there’s definitely a connection between the two of them. They figure very large in each other’s views of their identities and personal histories/narratives.

Lyse/Hien (potential) - I could see it happening. Cam would support it--Hien and Lyse are both two slightly clueless, goodhearted, very straightforward people dealing with a lot of pressure and expectations placed on them, and they might have a lot of fun together helping each other meet those challenges. They might also get in a lot of trouble--trouble and fun not being mutually exclusive, of course.

Unrequited entire Buduga tribe/Hien (canon) - They clearly want Hien. A lot. Whatever this tribe of Xaela considers the ideal physical type, it seems like Hien must come pretty damned close to it...

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dellebecque · 5 years

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Prompt #1: Voracious

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast Who: WoL!Aden, the people who mattered most to him, and the one and only thing for which he possesses a truly voracious appetite. When: At various points. How: T, some sad stuff, minor difficult themes and allusions to darker themes. 5.0 spoilers, Shadowbringers spoilers. What: vo·ra·cious/vəˈrāSHəs/ having a very eager approach to an activity."his voracious reading of literature" Where: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20487653/chapters/48616682

Aden’s supposed to be watching a broody chocobo, making sure she takes to the eggs in her nest right, and much as he loves the birds he sneaks out one of Mam’s travelogues. He’s not supposed to have them in the barn, too much danger of damaging them, but if he’s going to be out here all day….

The bird coos at him in that soft, motherly way only a broody one will, and shifts on her nest, ruffling her feathers slightly. It’s a clear invitation, he thinks, and he hesitates for a moment.. then settles down next to her, careful of any eggs that might be hidden in the hay. When he leans against her she makes a pleased trill, and immediately cranes her neck to start grooming his hair. Aden cracks open the book, trying to ignore the shifting and prodding and soft scratch of her beak. But when she’s done he can appreciate the soft warmth of her large body, the gentle warks and coos, and lull himself into a sweet place free of anxiety as he begins to read.

If the birds like him so much, Ma and Mam can’t send him away like Da did. They’d be upset .

____

Minfilia wends her way through the halls of the Waking Sands, asking after their newest member. When the inevitable why don’t you call his linkpearl comes up she merely says, “That’s a good idea,” graciously, and continues on. It’s rude , she doesn’t say, knowing that he should be in the building. And impersonal. After their rocky start.. well, she cannot afford to be anything less than genuine and forthright. And her gifts will not avail her so well over long-distance media.

She finds him on the quiet side of the building, in a small room converted into a secondary barracks of sorts. Stopping in the doorway, she blinks in surprise at finding all of his gear stowed here now, and he himself perched on a high bunk at the back of the room--hadn’t Tataru assigned him to the other side?--and she wonders if that, too, was a mistake. He reclines in the bunk against extra pillows pilfered from somewhere, a slender book open across his lap. Even with the bandages covering healing burns from his bout with Ifrit he looks more comfortable than she’s seen him so far.

Yes, she thinks to herself, perhaps they’d all read him wrong. In his unguarded quiet her gifts show her not the dedicated soldier she saw before, but a thoughtful, introspective man, one who values solitude and a gentler camaraderie than many of their members can offer. Their conversation can wait, she decides. Let the man have peace, and room to process the horror they accidentally put him through alone.

And let her have time to reassess her approach to this familiar stranger, this man her gifts cry must be part of their efforts.

______

Aden’s ears twitch at soft footsteps in the dust and scrub of Mor Dhona, and he knows who it is from the gait. Moments later G’raha flops down next to him with a dramatic sigh, leaning back against the tree. Aden doesn’t look up from his book, even though he knows the man is waiting for a question.

“I think you might read more than I do,” G’raha says when he doesn’t get his way, bumping his shoulder against Aden’s. It’d been annoying at first, physical contact unwelcome, but now he… understands . If he’d been raised by other miqo’te this would be normal . It feels right, the right kind of intimate for friends, unspoken and just outside his comfort zone. He can’t explain that, though, that he wants his boundaries challenged, doesn’t want to be silent and uncertain forever.

“They send you away again?” Aden flips a page.

G’raha doesn’t move, reading over Aden’s shoulder even as he replies. “They’re taking readings and refused to let me go after what happened last time.”

“That’s chocoboshit,” Aden says. He knows G’raha isn’t looking for logic, doesn’t want to hear you’re the most essential personnel on the survey from one more person. Aden would hate it just as much were their positions reversed.

“But if you would accompany me….” G’raha doesn’t finish but looks up at him hopefully.

“Cid told me if I didn’t take a break he’d drug my lunch.” Aden flips another page, ears canting in G’raha’s direction when he doesn’t reply right away. Finally the man gives an indignant huff on his behalf and leans heavily against him once more, reading over his shoulder.

“Wait,” he says, “is this the new one?”

“Yeah.”

“How did you get it all the way out here?”

“Tataru sent it.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and Aden wonders what’s going through his mind. He glances up from his book and thinks he sees the faintest edge of regret in his friend’s mismatched eyes. “How far are you?” G’raha asks.

“Not far. Want me to start over?”

There’s another moment of hesitation, this quiet side of his friend devoid of bravado that so rarely appears. And finally, softly, “Yes, please.”

Aden thinks he knows that feeling too well, but he won’t pry to find out if it’s what it looks like to him. He doesn’t want to talk about it, anyroad, if it is--to admit that sometimes his apparent stoicism is the memory of rejection and the worry that he doesn’t deserve the kindness of others. But he thinks the reason G’raha talks too much is the same reason he talks too little, and he’s glad to help his friend smooth over the raw moment by flipping to the front of the book and starting over.

______

“You’ve been home, what, three bells? And already I find you with another.” Aden looks up from his book, smiling softly as Haurchefant leans over his comfortable seat, reclining on a padded bench in one of the windows in the manor.

“They were here before you,” he says cheekily, lifting up his book for emphasis, “and they’ll be here after you.”

“ After me!” Haurchefant clutches a hand to his breast, mocking distress. “Already you plan to be rid of me! I am wounded to my core.” He drops a knee to the side of the bench, lowering himself down to caress Aden’s cheek. “I should have known I could never satisfy your voracious appetites.”

Aden laughs, unable to continue the mock seriousness. “I could say the same thing about you .”

Haurchefant leans down to kiss him, insistent, and Aden loses himself in it for a moment. But at length his lover draws away, leaving him to his book. “Don’t be long.”

He knows that when he’s inevitably up past midnight reading, Haurchefant will merely tease him and welcome him to bed by folding him in the warmth of his embrace. The judgement is all in jest.

But in hindsight it’s the only time in his life he wishes he’d read less.

___________

He closes the door to the small cabin behind himself, struggling to find his sea legs around the dizziness and disorientation whirling through his head. Aden presses a hand to the wall, and has to follow it to the bed. He’s glad for the privacy. Glad Tataru argued so ardently for this. Outside he has to pretend at being whole and hale, intimidating to the pirate crew. Here he can be alone. Weak. Nurse the half-healed wounds of his body and quietly pick at the festering scabs over his heart on their long journey to Kugane.

But today he doesn’t have the strength for it. He drops heavily onto the bunk, straining uncomfortable over the edge to open the chest lashed to one end of it, and pulls out the first thing his fingers light upon--a battered old book. Balm to soothe the aches of his mind.

He curls up on the hard bed, remembering all the places he could’ve been instead, and tries to forget for a little while.

__________

An infirmary is not what the Exarch expects to see through his scrying, but there it is, dark stone walls and pale linens on the bed. He frowns, leaning forward slightly. Had his actions changed the situation so much already? But--no, it is the Scions prone in the beds. He flinches--his doing.

The subject of his scrying finally crosses the view of the window, carrying a wooden chair in one hand and a book in the other. Aden pauses, tail swaying slowly, before he places his chair between the twins’ beds, facing out towards the rest of the room. No one else seems to be present at the moment, and he wonders if perhaps the remaining Scions are taking turns at keeping an eye on their comrades. Would that he could tell them it’s hardly necessary beyond the upkeep of their bodies. Their time could be better spent elsewhere.

Aden sits, opens the book and looks around the room once more--is that a hint of nervousness he detects? ‘Tis a familiar expression, that subtle anxiety the Warrior of Light tries very hard not to show--one he knew in his youth, and knows even better after his years of observation.

He understands why when Aden begins to read aloud to the unconscious Scions. Aden’s voice is uncertain at first, but as time draws on it grows more confident, rich in its fullness. He finds himself enraptured by it, drawing back his hood and freeing his ears to hear more clearly. Then he closes his eyes, and remembers a quiet afternoon spent under a tree in Mor Dhona. This story is familiar, an earlier book in the series. He hasn’t read it in a hundred years.

The summoning can wait for one more story.

#ffxivwrite2019 #FFXIV #wol x haurchefant #wol x exarch #wol x g'raha tia #haurchefant greystone #minfilia warde #G'raha Tia #Crystal Exarch #writing #Wrought in Crystal

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dayofazure · 5 years

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* romance headcanons.

name: Seiza Marebito

nickname: usually none relating to her actual name since it’s short

gender: female. she/her.

romantic orientation: aromantic. Seiza has little interest in romance as she generally does not think of herself as a person that would ever settle down and have a family with somebody. She was raised as a warrior and since then her mindset has always been focused on fighting and improving her skills. Anybody showing her romantic interest would actually get heartbroken because she isn’t aware that the feelings that another person has for her would be romantic. She’s quite dumb in this area.

preferred pet names: she has no preference if anything just refer to Seiza by her name.

relationship status: single. ( I’m multiship but apparently, Seiza’s status is never at GF but at NOT WIFE status )

favorite canon/fandom ship: Crystal Exarch/WOL !!! Actually, the first ship that I have with my WOL was with G’raha Tia. I do enjoy Zenos/WOL for their dynamics but not as....romance.

favorite crossover ship: PLEASE I LOVE THEM!! Currently, I have Hijikata Toshizo from Fate/Grand Order as Seiza’s ship partner and I absolutely adore them. It’s just so....let’s say it’s destroying me lmao.

opinion on true love: As stated before, Seiza never thought of herself to be in a romantic relationship with anybody, much less having true love. Though because of the way she is and the mindset that she has, if she ever does fall in love, that would be it, there would never be a second love. For her partner will always be her first love and true love.

opinion on love at first sight: Not wanting to repeat myself so many times, but because of Seiza’s personality and thinking of herself as never being in a relationship, she probably doesn’t even realize herself that she’s in love until it’s too late.

how ‘romantic’ are they?: Once Seiza is fully aware and committed in a relationship, she opens up a lot more and becomes somewhat more docile around her partner. She’s more touchy with her partner, allowing them to hold her hand as before she doesn’t like people to touch her on any sort of occasion. However, she doesn’t really act all that much different, only getting shy if her partner makes the first move on her. Though how she acts is dependent on who her partner is.

ideal physical traits: she has no ideal physical traits other than they are able to lift her up.

ideal personality traits: Seiza honestly enjoys people who are upfront with her. Honestly is the best way to earn her trust as she’s aware that she’s quite oblivious when other people are trying to be subtle with their feelings towards her.

unattractive physical traits: Bad Fashion. As long as you know how to dress up, everything else is fine. Seiza has seen her fair share of people with bad fashions.

unattractive personality traits: Liars. Seiza cannot stand people being dishonest towards her, it’ll make her annoyed and thus causing her to be rather aggressive. She also dislike people being up in her face as she is the type that would stand off to the side, so if anybody tries to up her, she is not afraid to knock them down a peg.

ideal date: Seiza has no preference for an ideal date, just being able to spend time with her partner anywhere is more than enough for her. She’s actually quite casual when it comes to dates, but preferably if you take her out to eat, her affection will rise up.

do they have a type?: Not that she is aware yet. She seems to enjoy mature individuals in terms of they know what they want and they know how they are going to achieve their set goal. Somebody passionate, devoted, and have their heart in the right place with their ideals and dream are traits that Seiza greatly admires in a person. She also enjoys people with a sense of humor as she has a dark sense of humor herself.

average relationship length: A LONG TIME. Seiza can easily commit herself to the person she has fallen for, which comes to a surprise for a lot of people as she cherishes her freedom the most. She, the adventurer that never stopped moving, settling down for one person. Regardless of that, once Seiza is in a relationship, she doesn’t see herself breaking off the relationship.

preferred non-sexual intimacy: This follows ideal date. Seiza enjoys any sort of quality time she has with her partner, from talking with each other, watching tv, or just being in each other presence. All of this will make her happy.

commitment level: Let’s just say, once somebody gets into a relationship with Seiza, she is their devoted wife/soulmate. She trusts her partner, anything they want to do, she will support them no matter what.

opinion of public affection: While Seiza doesn’t hate public affection, she is actually embarrassed by doing the act. She will act very shy if her partner tries to kiss or hug her in public. She’s fine with holding hands/locking arms, but anything involving close contact with one another will make her very shy.

past relationships?: literally none.

tagged by: @breselin ( oh my god it’s so long wheezes ) tagging: UUUUUUUUUHHHHHH

@pragmarage @ardenssolis @horclogium @hiberus @irerow @jinruinokibo @ofviper @ofastrcmancy ( any of your blogs really ) @pvrified ANYBODY ELSE THAT WANTS THIS LONG ONE

#.memes #.headcanons #god it was so long and i spent so much time thinking

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dhawkesnest · 5 years

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Prompt # 23: Parched

Warning: Shadowbringers Spoilers!! Do not read if you haven't finished the MSQ!! Follow up of Prompt # 12!! Features my character Celene as the WoL for the purposes of this AU (I do not rp her as WoL). Also, what can I say, I like writing kiss scenes.

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Celene wasn't expecting to see the familiar robed form standing in the middle of her room in the Pendants when she finally managed to evade Nadine and sneak away. She had just leaned back against the door, sighing in relief upon listening to the click as she locked herself in what she thought was a safe place, when she heard a well-known voice and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Oh no... So soon after the embarrassment in the Crystarium, she wasn't up to facing him and explaining the reason she had completely humiliated him in front of everyone. However, she knew how bad it would have looked had she whirled and run again, and where could she truly hide. All he had to do was look within that crystal mirror he kept and he would have found her. Nowhere in Norvrandt was safe. Swallowing her pride, she looked at him and tried to offer him a smile in greeting, though she was sure it looked a little pinched. The only thing that might have soothed her nerves was his posture, for he seemed perfectly at ease, his staff leaning against the wall nearby. “Ex... G'raha... hi... I wasn't expecting to find you here. Usually you summon me to the Ocular. Is something the matter?” She could detect the strain in her voice, and could only pray that he couldn't do the same. Turning to face her, he smiled softly and shook his head. His right ear twitched perceptibly and she had to stifle an internal groan as he tilted his head at her. “Oh no. I merely wanted a moment of your time.” “Ah...” The sound came out like a croak. “There were still some things that went unresolved and brushed aside when we returned from the Tempest that I think needs be addressed.” “If it's another apology, G'raha, then there's no ne-” Once more, he shook his head, clasping his hands in front of him. “It actually concerns my outpouring in Kholusia.” Celene's stomach tightened with dread. Did he mean to rescind what he had said? Had she misunderstood him? They both stood in awkward silence for a moment, and then Celene had to force herself to draw a breath, reminding herself not to overreact. Let him say what's on his mind, there's plenty of time to freak out later. Clearing his throat, he dropped his gaze for a moment as if thinking on something before coming to a decision. “It also concerns a certain young woman that was yelling my given name about the Crystalline Mean earlier this afternoon. I wished to discuss that as well.” Her reaction was almost involuntary as she ran the flat of her hand down her face and groaned audibly in embarrassment, her cheeks heating. She couldn't be surprised. He had been there, she knew this was coming, and yet she'd hoped against hope that it wouldn't. “I'm sorry. She pressured me and your name was just the first one that came to mind. I had no idea she intended to shout it from the rafters and I am so sorry for what it might have done to your reputation or-” “So it was a mistake then?” “I didn't intend to make things embarrassing for you, no. I mere-” The expression on his face shifted momentarily, so subtle that it was almost imperceptible. Once more, he cleared his throat, and she could have sworn she saw him swallow hard. “Well then, since that is cleared up, I suppose it is back to work for me.”

Celene's mouth dropped open. That was it? Something about this couldn't be right. That imperceptible change in him stuck out to her and a niggling feeling settled into the pit of her stomach. She felt as if she had done something wrong, but there was no reason for her to have felt that way. Nodding a greeting, G'raha moved to pass her for the door, reaching to pull his hood up and retrieve his staff as he went. Stop him. Don't let him go, her internal voice cried at her. Impulse took over and brought about the movement. She reached out to grip his forearm as he passed, the reflex startling him into whirling enough to look at her, either to discern what she wanted or to object to the contact, she didn't know. The woman didn't give him a chance to do either. Her free hand reached to cup his chin and lift it to align his gaze with hers, taking in his expression, his red eyes wide with surprise and something else.

Hurt. I hurt him. Something I said hurt him. “C-celene?” He stammered. She let her grey-green gaze take in every feature, her thumb tracing the crystal on his cheek. The action caused a blush to rise in his cheeks. Her thoughts went momentarily to his words in Kholusia, then again at the top of Mt. Gulg. Deep down she knew those words had been meant for her, at the same time she had known the man leaning against the rock was the one she had watched the doors close on all those years ago. She had cared about him then, and she cared even more deeply about him now. Is it possible he thinks...? We're both idiots, she realized, a soft smile breaking out across her face as she chuckled quietly at their foolishness. “Friend, are you quite well?” There was a tremor in his voice as he looked up at her, his face still clasped gently in her palm, his eyes echoing a mix of pain, confusion, and embarrassment. Hell with it. I'm tired of dancing around this issue. Celene dipped her head low and brushed her lips against his faintly. She heard the sound of his staff clattering to the floor, caught the barest hint of a sound dying in his throat, and then his hands were in her hair. He pulled her close, his mouth meeting hers for a second time but deeper, his lips exploring hers. The action was sweet, intense; full of longing that had been more than decades denied. They clung to one another as they became engulfed with the same need, like two flowers in the desert desperate for rain. After a moment, he broke the kiss to gasp for breath, and she rested her forehead against his own. “How long have you-” He asked between breaths. “Since before the doors shut.” He exhaled sharply at that, the truth flooring him as he pulled back enough to look up at her, hands reaching to cup her face. “I didn't know, Celene, I-” “We're both idiots.” She murmured, nuzzling his palms, enjoying the warmth of one and the cool of the other upon her skin. “I knew you meant me when we spoke in Kholusia, but I said nothing when we got back. I let you think...” G'raha shook his head, wrapping his arms about her waist tightly. Celene returned the action, winding hers about his shoulders, marveling in how small he was. “Might we stay like this for a spell?” He asked, burying his face against her collarbone. There would be no objection from her. It had been so long since she had held anyone, let alone let anyone hold her. “I may need more kisses.” She murmured into his hair, one hand reaching to scratch him lovingly behind the ear. The Exarch's shoulders shook with a soft chuckle. “Aren't we thirsty?” He muttered back cheekily, then barely choked back a sound that was part whimper and part purr at the tender gesture he had become unaccustomed to. “Oh, you're one to talk.” She gave him a playful shove but then immediately pulled him back for a kiss, letting her lips linger for a moment before breaking it and holding him close once more. Neither of them knew what the future would hold. Celene had reminded him of this when they had rested in Kholusia before the battle against Vauthry. At some point, one of them could die. It was the same as it always was. She was the Warrior of Light, thrust into danger. In the past, she had held those who loved her at arms length to protect them, but now she knew she couldn't anymore. Many regrets had lead her to realize during their conversation on the cliffs that she couldn't push those she cared about away anymore, and she had told him he shouldn't either. Should fate see fit to take him from me again... He seemed to know her thoughts, and spoke quietly as he nuzzled her again. “What are we to do now that the dynamic between us has changed?” The only response she could think to give were the words she had told him before. Words that carried the weight of those regrets she had made in the past, the pain of words left unsaid and paths left untraveled. “Cherish the time we have.” (( @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast ))

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