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xbunnybunz · 3 years

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The terrible, you. (3/5) [Wolf Keum x Reader]

Summary: After Wolf Keum unwittingly rescues you from seedy men in the dead of night, he can't shake you from his side. After a while, he's not sure if he wants to.

Genres: Romance

Date: June 16, 2020

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You did not appear again the next day.

Wolf Keum had not been waiting for you to present yourself. He made sure to remind himself of that.

Yet, the endless chatter of the ��girl looking for Wolf Keum” going around Ganghak was grating on his nerves and disallowed him to purge you from his mind.

As someone his classmates could barely bring themselves to look at, he was an awful popular point of contention. You had made a bigger mess than you could imagine.

“I’m telling you, she’s way too cute for him. I’ve seen her working at the flower shop by the underpass, and I don’t think she could be interested in him like that at all, ever. Too bad for him.”

As one of the strongest members of Yeongdeungpo, Wolf Keum’s personal business was always made public business in a matter of days, or in this case, hours. He had first looked upon this with irrational contempt, wondering why his name belonged in anybody’s mouth if they could barely utter a syllable in his presence. After a while, he realized that rumors, while spoken about for the sake of entertainment, could also serve to emphasize his power without much effort on his part.

It wasn’t much different now, though Wolf had to admit he had never been jabbed in the pride regarding his romantic life before. He had no idea it existed until now. It stirred his temper more than dumbfucks shit-talking his fights, and he reasoned that his irritability stemmed from the fact that these slobs would talk about just about anything. Still, he couldn’t settle things like he did back then. Not while he was under Donald Na’s system. It wasn’t as effective than beating the living shit out of anyone who looked at him funny, but it did allow time for his bruised knuckles to heal before the next beatdown.

His friend was quick to snatch the collar of the offender.

“What the hell did you say about Wolf? What do you know? Do I need to knock out your teeth so you think twice before yammering?”

The smaller student squirmed in the iron grip, sweating bullets and eyes darting about to find aid from his friends.

“I- I didn’t mean to! I mean, I wasn’t talking about Wolf Keum, the girl, she-”

“You weren’t talking about Wolf Keum?”

Wolf watched out of the corner of his eye, hands in his pockets, as the student was nearly hoisted from the floor from the collar.

“Who the hell were you talking about then? Geum Sa-Wol? You watch that shit, loser?”*

As the student became a blubbering mess, Wolf swept his eyes over the crowd in the hallway. All eyes were diverted. It was deafeningly silent, a silence that Wolf Keum craved for two reasons. One, it meant he could finally have a few goddamn seconds of peace without her face bouncing around in his head; and two, it meant that although students refused to look up, they were still very much listening.

“Hey man.”

Wolf placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, and he could feel the trembling of the other student through his arm.

“Don’t sweat it.”

The smaller kid was set down, and Wolf had to keep himself from snarking at his pale face and wide eyes. Instead, he turned his chin up and offered a sickening smile, his glasses catching the gleam of the fluorescent bulbs in the ceiling.

“I can’t waste time on shit-mouthed fuckers who can’t get the facts straight.”

Wolf reached out to scornfully dust off his wrinkled jacket, enjoying each flinch he induced when his hand landed too harshly or too quickly. He lowered his voice to a dangerous octave, a surge of adrenaline pumping through his veins when he felt the room drop ten degrees in response.

“Her and I have nothing to do with each other, and definitely nothing to do with you. It’s best for us to keep it like that for your sake, don’t you think?”

He lowered his gaze to glower at the shorter student, who, trembling, swallowed thickly and nodded stiffly under his suffocating presence. Wolf remained rooted to the floor, asserting his pressure for a few more long seconds for good measure before giving him a shove.

“Now fuck off.”

He watched as the student took off, tripping over the air in his haste and plummeting into the unforgiving tiled floors with a splat.

Wolf regarded him with a derisive glance and moved to open the door to his classroom, and though it was someone else on the floor, all eyes were on him. He always reveled in the high of scaring someone shitless when he had an audience. Their deafening silence represented their resounding submission to him, but perhaps his most favorite part of all was the contrast of atmosphere immediately before and after he entered another room. The collective drop of shoulders, the perfectly synchronized sighs of relief and immediate whispers of disbelief flooded Wolf Keum with euphoria. It reminded him that his mere presence was enough to instill fear into the hearts of his peers, strong enough to demand subservience, and a testament to his self-made reputation.

It was exactly what he needed now after a long day of conflicting thoughts, which he shamefully had to admit, had made him restless. When he slid the door to his classroom open, he could almost hear the eyes moving from his back to his desk.

In all his years of accruing bloody knuckles and broken noses, he had never once been as stunned as he was in this one soundless and stagnant moment. A crowd had formed around his table, busybodies nosing about and phone cameras shuttering. The moment they heard the door fling open they scattered like roaches, throwing themselves back into their seats and trying hard to seem occupied as to not incur the wrath of Wolf Keum.

Piled high on his desk was an amalgamation of pinks and reds, wrapped delicacies placed upon gift boxes placed upon packages tied to little pink balloons. Wolf took this all in with as straight a face as he could muster, knowing everyone was more sensitive to his presence now than ever before. This included of course, eyebrows arching upwards and his jaw becoming slack.

No one could blame Wolf Keum for his reaction. They had in fact, reacted in the same exact manner- perhaps to a more notable extent. Even for a normal person, a love letter or a small baked treat would suffice as a proclamation of love. But for Wolf Keum, the gifts spread across his desk in a flashy show of affection were tenfold more surprising. It was incomprehensible to anyone that Wolf, the brute occupied with street violence and gang activity, would ever entertain the idea of liking someone, and even moreso shocking that someone could see past their terror and admire him- especially in such an ostentatious fashion.

This revelation was of course, made much more interesting because of the blatant denial that he had anything to do with a girl prior. Wolf knew this more than anyone and gathered his wits to press onward, feeling something strangely similar to adrenaline pulsing through his body and reddening his ears.

“W-Wolf…” His friend stuttered, raising a weak finger to point at the desk. “…What is that?”

Wolf skulked into the classroom, hands deep in his pockets and a snarl on his lips. He had an idea, but couldn’t formulate it into words. He settled for the next best thing.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know, dimwit? I’m looking now.”

“O-oh. Right.”

He approached the table with caution, cringing at the vivid colors and grotesque amount of home baked pastries and sweets. There was an assortment of red cosmos, pink tulips and white daises sitting upon everything, tied together neatly with a thick shiny ribbon pinning down a notecard.

Wolf considered knocking everything over in a fit of confused rage. He considered ordering his lackey to burn it in the incinerator. He considered many things, yet curiosity ate him alive and stopped him from uttering a single word.

He had thought about her all day, damn it all if denying it did anything. She had a strange manner to her that he couldn’t shake and he was enraged when she failed to show up again after gaining his attention. Though no, it hadn’t been directed at her- which was what infuriated him. For the first time in years, Wolf Keum had been disappointed in himself, perhaps for not being interesting enough to earn another visit, or strong enough to impress her beyond a single local market creampuff.

When she didn’t show up again as he had anticipated, he was overtaken by pesky attempts to explain it. He guessed she was shy, he guessed she was nervous, he guessed she came to her senses, he had guessed and guessed until it drove him up the wall and back down again. But even with his reputation and credibility on the line, even while being documented by a sea of students who undoubtedly would share this with friends later- now that just a breath of her existence was in front of him, he had to know- was she back after all? The adrenaline had now inched its way across his body and set his heart and mind aflame, temperatures soaring and burning their way across his cheeks.

“Bro, I can toss it for you-”

“Shut up for a second.”

Wolf ignored the other man, who wisely shut his trap. He was preoccupied with keeping his hand steady as he stiffly reached out for the notecard, a gleam overtaking his glasses. The gold foil note looked strangely out of place in his calloused and bandaged hands, but the name on the notecard was undoubtedly his.

Dear Wolf Keum, Yay!! You found my gifts!! I hope you can enjoy these snacks with all of your funny friends. The flowers are for you though. I picked them from the florist shop I work at myself. I hope you like them! (PS: Put them in carrot juice to make them last longer!) (PPS: or don’t… my boss tells me not to do that in the shop…)

He lowered the card and looked up with a deadpan glower, all the students who had been peering over their shoulders flinched and look back to the front.

He didn’t know what to feel. Wolf Keum was instinctively mad at everything. If the television didn’t work, he was mad. If he had forgotten an umbrella in the rain, he’d be mad and take someone else’s and still be mad. Any slight inconvenience to Wolf Keum was followed by inevitable punishment, and though he was inconvenienced now more than ever with your gifts tarnishing his title in both Ganghak High and the Union, in this moment he felt nothing more than exasperation.

A familiar pipsqueak shitstain voice sounded from the door.

“Woah, she really does like you! How?”

Wolf Keum grit his teeth and felt his hands ball into tight fists at his side, confusion igniting once again to erupt into a bitter and wild, barely contained rage. He was Wolf Keum. Why did he care? Why did he care what a shitty bread shuttle had to say?

He felt his temper raise to lick at the edges of his vision, something of the sort of beast he was used to encountering, but driven by something larger and much more foreign than he was used to. What was it that he, Wolf Keum, was so unfamiliar with? So unable to control?

A creep of red colored his neck, a dash ran across his face, and then he knew at once.

The amount of effort it took for him to sustain regular breathing was fucking bullshit. The way his fists were ready to swing yet ever trembling was fucking. Bullshit.

To onlookers, this Wolf Keum was the same as the Wolf Keum all the days before, face red with irritation, quaking fists itching for a brawl. He was thankful of this, but at the same time hated how he had to hide behind his title instead of living up to it.

Wolf Keum was insecure.

“You little bitch! I’ll rip out your tongue!”

A figure lunged at the smaller boy in the periphery of Wolf's vision, yet he paid it no mind. There was no satisfaction that came from the dull sound of crying and a fists cracking against a nose. Wolf settled into his chair with an aura that filled the room with a cold draft.

With his mood soured, everyone was suddenly reminded that Wolf Keum with gifts on his desk was in fact, still Wolf Keum.

The silence that surrounded the noisy beating did nothing to ease the atmosphere as the pink balloon bobbed softly in the air.

#weak hero #webtoon weak hero #wolf keum #wolf keum x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #the terrible you

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nadana-vhet · 4 years

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Champagne

Pairing(s): Unrequited AlphinaudxFem!WoL, Minor AlisaiexFem!WoL Rating: General Audiences When the Scions are invited to a celebratory ball to commemorate the end of the Dragonsong War, Warrior of Light N’adana Vhet loathes the idea of being the center of attention. She only wants to have this night so that she can be a normal kid - the chance to act like herself - for once.

Cross-Posted to Ao3.

Hi all! This is my first fic, I’ve had the idea of a Teen!WoL knockin’ around in my brain for a while and this became a 3AM fever dream. I just am love with the idea of a WoL the same age as the twins and the three of them dealing with the weight of the world on their shoulders! And in which Alphinaud has a mondo crush on the WoL because we all know he has a thing for catgirls *cough* y’shtola *cough*

Champagne

Tataru pinned the last of N’adana’s red curls in place, making sure the miqo’te’s thick hair stayed in place before stepping back to admire her handiwork. “There, that’s the last of them!”

N’adana stood from her spot on the floor, carefully picking up the skirts of the dress Count Edmont had commissioned to be custom-made for the Warrior of Light. It was tulle of muted light green with impossibly puffy sleeves that hung off her shoulders and cinched in at her wrists.

N’adana had insisted that Count Edmont needn’t go through all the trouble after the Scions had received an invitation from Ser Aymeric, graciously asking them to attend a celebratory ball. “This is your first Ishgardian ball, my dear! I must make sure the guests of my house are well taken care of.” He had been ragged the past few weeks, his eyes bloodshot and his mannerisms sluggish, which one were to expect, considering the loss of…

“Besides,” he had smiled softly at her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, “you are akin to a daughter to me – a daughter I have never had. Please, allow me this.”

The lalafell had been pampering her all afternoon, doing her makeup and picking out jewelry in a rush of excitement. “Tataru, you needn’t-“

“Hush, you! Come here, I have one final touch.” N’adana obediently knelt back down as Tataru pulled out a length of silk ribbon, the same color and fabric as the layers that were sewn to the innermost layers of her skirt. “I asked the seamstress for a scrap of this gorgeous fabric! I thought it would look pretty if you used it like a necklace!”

N’adana surrendered a smile at the thoughtfulness of her friend. Tataru leaned up to tie the ribbon delicately around her throat, tying it in a manicured bow and adjusting it to perfection. “Perfect! Oh, N’adana, you look absolutely beautiful! Go look for yourself!” Her hands flew up excitedly as the miqo’te stood again and made her way over to the full-length mirror on the other side of the room.

Her breath caught as she got her first full look at herself all afternoon, and for a moment she didn’t recognize the reflection staring back at her. If you took away her armor and put her in something light, it turns out the Warrior or Light was almost delicate. Her red hair was tamed and curled into manicured ringlets, tucked back and pinned in ways that framed her round face. The warm green of her dress matched her eyes, and by the Twelve, Tataru had even put makeup on her. The scars on her arms from countless battles were blurred and hidden by the semi-translucent fabric of her sleeves, and for a moment she felt like a normal teenager. She got to dress up in a pretty gown and let loose, even for just a single night. She could convince Thancred to try a sip of his champagne before finding Alphinaud in the crowd and making silly faces at him while he tried to have political conversations with Ishgardian nobles.

Just for tonight, she could just be a kid at a party.

She had requested as much from Ser Aymeric when they arrived, who graciously agreed and allowed this one night of solace for the young Warrior of Light. When he introduced the Scions to the crowd that night, he did so as a group, his short speech vague enough to leave it up to interpretation which one of them was truly the famed Warrior of Light.

Thankfully, most of the speculation fell to Thancred, who was more than eager to soak up the attention of the beautiful noblewomen that held onto his arm and offered him drinks. No one paid any mind to the elezen twins and the young miqo’te who were thankful to shirk their duties for the night. None of those plucky teenagers could possibly be the Warrior of Light, or so the crowd assumed, so at least they were free for the time being. The trio spent the evening stuffing their face with food, though Alphinaud periodically ran off to speak with some stranger or another. Alisaie and N’adana kept close to the edge of the ballroom, seated on a plush bench under an elaborate curtain of blue fabric.

“He was waxing poetic about how beautiful you look tonight, you know.” Alisaie mentioned, popping a piece of chocolate in her mouth and raising an eyebrow at N’adana. She was dressed for the occasion, too, in a dress of red velvet that was comfortable enough to allow her still-healing wounds to be bandaged and unrestrained underneath her loose bodice.

“Ah, I… figured. He was stuttering like an idiot when he saw me.” N’adana admitted sheepishly, the answer making Alisaie tilt her head in surprise. “We talked about it when we were traveling with Estinien and Ysayle.” She answered the question before it was asked, her voice catching on Ysayle’s name as she remembered her late friend.

“And?” Alisaie prompted further, an eagerness in her voice at the prospect of her brother having manned up enough to tell her about his affections.

N’adana shrugged, “I don’t feel the same, and I told him as much,” she admitted quietly, leaning back against the wall and picking a skewered cube of lamb from her plate, expensively seasoned and impossibly moist. She conveniently left out the why, especially since Alisaie was becoming such a close friend after rejoining them. It wasn’t as if she was crushing on her, exactly, but she feared her friend would look at her differently if she knew that she didn’t hold affections for any man. She never would.

Once Alisaie realized she wasn’t getting any more answers out of N’adana, she begrudgingly dropped the topic. “I would not wish my brother’s incessant nagging on anyone. I pity the woman whom he manages to charm one day,” she chuckled, popping another sweet morsel into her mouth. Her entire plate was filled with cakes and chocolates, and N’adana worried the elezen would make herself sick with all the sugar she was shoveling down her throat.

“Did you eat any real food today?” N’adana teased.

“Yes, mother.” Alisaie rolled her eyes, side-eyeing the miqo’te as she popped another chocolate into her mouth.

N’adana just chuckled and reached over to swipe one of the many assorted chocolates off Alisaie’s plate, who protested fiercely as the warrior bit down on the caramel-filled dessert. “…Want to go sucker Thancred into letting us try the champagne?”

A conspiratorial grin spread across Alisaie’s face, but before she could answer, Tataru strolled up in her pink taffeta gown and caught them red-handed. “No you don’t!” The lalafell reprimanded them with her hands on her hips.

“We just want a sip, Tataru!” N’adana hummed towards her favorite secretary, but Alisaie left her out to dry.

“I was going to decline. I am wont to partake in the sinful liquid.” Alisaie dramatically turned up her nose, which only made N’adana scoff in disbelief.

What a traitor!

However, Tataru wasn’t one to fall for Alisaie’s antics. “Likely story! How about instead of scheming and getting yourselves into trouble, would it kill you to, I don’t know, try dancing?”

N’adana grinned, putting her food to the side and leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “Well, if someone were to ask me to dance, mayhaps I would.”

A courel-like smile spread across Tataru’s face, holding out her hand towards the Warrior with poise and formality. “Miss N’adana Vhet, may I ask that you accompany me in a dance?”

This is worse than the time she cornered me in that game of Triple Triad, N’adana thought to herself begrudgingly as she took Tataru’s hand and let her lead them to their doom. N’adana leaned down to take Tataru’s hands, and despite the few first, awkward steps, they decided to drop the silly formalities and simply sway with each other as they giggled and twisted their hips, pushing and pulling opposite hands back and forth in the most clumsy manner, surely unfit for such a high-class event.

Soon enough, N’adana felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around and was greeted by Thancred, his hair tied back and adorned in a sleek, black tuxedo. “I don’t mean to be rude, but may I steal your dance partner?” He asked politely, a characteristically roguish grin on his face as he glanced down at Tataru.

“Of course, Ser Waters.” N’adana chuckled, watching as Thancred simply picked Tataru up in one arm and swayed around the dance floor with her, likely talking about something or another in a manner that was fairly inconspicuous.

However, this left N’adana partnerless in the middle of the dance floor. Despite the truth of her title being hidden for tonight, there were plenty of Ishgardian nobles who would jump at the chance to speak with one of the Scions and try to speak about politics or trade deals or what-have-you.

Luckily, N’adana was saved as Alphinaud wordlessly grabbed her hand and pulled her into step with him, narrowly dodging a young elezen man who was nervously approaching her. “I apologize for not requesting a dance formally, but I am sure you shall forgive me once you learn that I spoke with that same man earlier – his entire countenance smells of onions.” Alphinaud crinkled his nose as he spoke lowly.

“You are forgiven, Alphinaud.” N’adana chuckled, fumbling as her friend patiently showed her a simple enough dance that didn’t make them look like utter fools. She watched his feet as best she could, clad in polished boots. The rest of him was adorned in a classy, thigh-length coat and fitted trousers. Alphinaud chattered about the various characters he had spoken with that night, sprinkling in jokes and the like, since he knew N’adana cared nothing of politics and nobility.

“Your sister told me what you said about me, you know.”

Alphinaud stumbled, catching himself awkwardly as he stuttered and tried to properly formulate a response. “I swear to the Twelve and all that is good-” he managed, shooting a harsh glance towards the bench where Alisaie had been sitting, but she was no where to be found.

“I’m glad she did.” N’adana smiled, trying to ease his worries. “Thank you, Alphinaud. I’m not afforded the luxury of feeling beautiful very often, so it’s… nice to hear sometimes, even if secondhand.”

Alphinaud lowered his gaze, searching her emerald eyes for any sense of mocking, but he found none. “I promise that you are beautiful all the time, even in the thick of battle.” He was nervous, but both their feelings had been let out in the open already. He would rather she know than to let herself believe that no one thought her beautiful.

N’adana blushed, her ears twitching and making the jewelry she wore jingle quietly at the sudden motion. “I appreciate it, Alphinaud,” she squeezed his hand, “You’re such a good friend, I’m sorry that I cannot return-“

Alphinaud cut her off with a shake of his head. “There is naught to apologize for, my friend. All I could ask for is to see you happy and safe.”

N’adana sighed, closing her eyes for a few moments and letting herself follow the pattern they had repeated enough for her to follow it with ease. “And I for you, Alphinaud. I’m going to do everything in my power to see that you and the rest of our friends will always be so.” She opened her eyes and smiled at him, and despite her delicate appearance, the fierceness of her personality and conviction shone through in her promise.

An affectionate smile graced Alphinaud’s face, but before he could respond, Alisaie appeared behind N’adana and tapped her shoulder. “I believe you have hogged our friend for long enough, hm?” She raised an eyebrow at her brother, “May I?”

N’adana took Alisaie’s outstretched hand, giving Alphinaud a wave before letting Alisaie lead, as she was wont to do. “I apologize if I did not rescue you from his incessant chattering fast enough,” she chuckled.

“He hadn’t mentioned anything about promising trade deals opening in Ishgard for a few minutes, so you were actually more timely than you think. I’m sure he would have started up again at any moment.” N’adana returned her friend’s quip with a giggle of her own, “But really, it was a nice conversation. I don’t like to throw my friends under the carriage, unlike someone at this party.”

Alisaie gasped in mock offense, “You cannot be talking about me! How rude!” Her braid swished back and forth as they waltzed, and N’adana quietly noticed she had replaced her normal ribbon with a strand of velvet that matched her dress. N’adana simply laughed again, bright and carefree, before Alisaie spun her around and let her dress twirl around her.

“Now that Tataru isn’t around to chastise us,” N’adana glanced around to make sure they weren’t going to be caught by their chaperone for the second time that night, “now would you like to find someone who will let us try that champagne? I’m sure we’ll never have the opportunity to try something that expensive ever again.”

Alisaie nodded eagerly as they snuck away from the dance floor, finally tracking down Thancred and suckering him into grabbing a flute of champagne for the pair. “Fine, fine. Just this one, for both of you,” he insisted before returning to a particularly pretty elezen woman with jet black hair and impossibly long eyelashes. The two nodded in understanding, knowing Thancred would find out one way or another if they hadn’t done what they promised.

Narrowly avoiding Tataru, the pair plucked Alphinaud mid-conversation with the man who smelled of onions and found a fairly quiet place to themselves – a balcony on the second floor of Aymeric’s estate, which looked out onto the city of Ishgard. The stars lit up the sky as they watched the city below them bustle with evening activity, passing the flute of champagne between the three of them as they gossiped and giggled with one another.

It wasn’t long before they became chilled after the heat of dancing wore off, but Alphinaud jumped up and returned moments later with a blanket and Ser Aymeric de Borel himself.

“I am full glad to see the three of you enjoying yourselves,” the Lord-Commander handed them a luscious fur blanket, which Alisaie wrapped around their collective shoulders, keeping N’adana in the middle, for she had the thinnest attire between the three of them. The elezen man bowed to the young Scions, “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Giving us this was more than enough of a gift, Ser Aymeric. Thank you.” N’adana smiled up at him, content for the moment. Her actions as Hydaelyn’s Chosen put such a kind-hearted and capable man in charge of a city that had become so dear to her. The Lord-Commander smiled softly at them before taking his leave, making sure the door to the balcony was cracked open so that they could return whenever they wished, if at all.

The party went on without the Warrior of Light and her beloved Levellieur twins, too busy trading stories and wondering about how the city below them would grow and move on from the Dragonsong War. Alphinaud and N’adana told Alisaie about Haurchefant and his boundless loyalty, and Alisaie in turn spoke of the faces she had met on her adventures without them. They stayed like this long into the night when the moon was high in the sky and the streets below them had quieted, leaving them in a silence that was only filled by their laughter and friendship.

#ffxiv #ff14 #final fantasy 14 #ff14 fanfic #alphinaud x wol #wol x alisaie #alphinaud leveilleur #alisaie leveilleur #teen!wol #fem wol #miqo'te wol #named wol #post-heavensward #unrequited crush #alphinaud #final fantasy xiv #alisaie #writing #faeluria writes

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bi-in-july · 4 years

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30 Day WOL Challenge #1

June 8 // Aftermath, 2381 words

She was a most perplexing creature, this Warrior of Light. Or Darkness, he supposed it was now, given current events.

Semantics aside, she was every bit the hero here that she was in the other realm, the one with the Garleans. Every bit the hero in both as she was in her numerous other forms, really. And yet, she was the only one who seemed to resent the title, the only one who hid from it. The only one who, in all but name, was anything but a conventional hero.

Emet Selch had only had the opportunity to speak with her other shades on a few occasions, and they had been only a fraction of the many that made the whole. Shades was an apt description. Hollow shells - vain, simple, ignorant, blank. Any hopes he’d have of catching a glimpse of a memory or sliver of a resemblance were always rather quickly and decidedly dashed. Audrieth was certainly no exception.

But she was different. And perhaps that made her closer to the real thing than he cared to admit.

He had studied the way her palette shifted, saturating with a streak of passionate scarlet when she beheld the emergence of her miqo’te accomplice from the aetherstream. In an instant, both she and the hyuran fellow had been kneeling at her side, scarcely believing she was in their arms once more. Emet Selch had smirked to himself. How easily they had forgotten their suspicion and ire in the presence of their thought-to-be-gone friend.

For much of the rest of the conversation - mostly a boring display of affection from the hrothgar and musings about the supposed mysteries of Qitana Ravel - that splash of red had persisted, though it did subdue. This was not the first companion she had seen restored to life, he supposed, watching as she relaxed, her world no longer turbulent with grief and at ease with a sense of peace.

One by one, the Scions had disappeared, already turning their focus to the next task at hand as they made their way back to the huts of the trees. One by one, until Audrieth remained. Her sparkling eyes followed them, faring them well with a smile. It was perhaps the most honest her face had been since she had arrived. She must truly be overcome with relief if she allowed herself to be this vulnerable.

As they departed, he watched the black seeping back into her aura, with a mix of silver it seemed. The Ascian straightened in his physical form, perking up at the sight. Now that was interesting.

“What a touching reunion that was,” he drawled to her back. Another surge of black accompanied the tensing of her shoulders, her fingers curling against her palms. But as usual, she answered him with a silence that told him all he needed to know.

“It fair brought a tear to the eye,” he continued, “But as we both know, such moments are nothing if not momentary.” She heard him approaching, her head tilting to the side to hear his words better. Or perhaps to locate the source, should she need to pounce. Curious thing. Her bangs hid her eyes from him, but rather than pursed lips, hers were parted, black ever expanding around her.

“Before long they will remember their many differences,” he finished as he arrived at her side and peered down at her, “and return to squabbling.”

Now he could behold those windows to the soul, as red as her earlier outburst of emotion. Her dark lashes shaded them from the sun and he could practically see the gears churning, hear the creaks and hisses, as she mulled through some thought that she was getting ready to share. Though her gaze was pointedly directed toward the ground in front of them, he knew exactly where her words would be addressed. Her mouth opened fully and closed promptly. Then again, twice more. A spiral of black and silver spinning and spinning around her.

“You are welcome,” he said with a smirk. “Expressions of emotion do not come easily to you, do they, dear? Not to worry, I will not force your vocal gratitude.”

There was that characteristic eye roll. Her red eyes flashed upwards, a light crackling in the air between them. “You are insufferable.”

“You seem to be suffering me rather well thus far.”

Her arms crossed with her rather predictable denial and frustration. “Don’t get excited,” she warned him, “Just because I find you useful doesn’t mean I trust you.” Or enjoy my company, he inwardly chuckled.

“Of course not,” he said, theatrically giving her his best offended expression. “The Warrior of Light would never think anything of her mortal enemy. I’d be a fool to believe otherwise. Though it does wound me to think you are only ‘using’ me.” He tsked at her. “I thought heroes were better than that?”

Audrieth turned to face him now, but where he had expected to find a defiant glare or an admonishing look, she instead appeared thoughtful. Her eyes were searching him and for a moment he actually genuinely shuddered.

Who was it he was speaking to again?

“You didn’t use void magic.” There was a question here and an oddly timed one at that. Emet Selch blinked at her as he placed her face once more in his mind.

“Void is not the only source I draw upon, this is true,” he answered slowly with realization. “Are you referring to my retrieval of the thaumaturge?”

Audrieth gave him a single nod, her eyes unchanging. “You could have brought her back with void magic, but you didn’t.”

He shrugged. “Well, you wanted your friend back in one piece, did you not? A shadowy replica would not do. Not to mention,” he smirked again, “I cannot imagine you would have allowed me to let loose any other unspeakable creatures on this plane.”

She visibly shuddered at the thought, but remained steadfast in her attempt to talk to him. He had not seen such a swelling of black in her before. He half desired to call her out right then, but thought better of it. She was a prickly one. It would be more rewarding to let her speak.

“I didn’t know you used other forms of magic.” Her head was cocked and Emet Selch was momentarily distracted by the uncharacteristic and endearing sight. The two of them began to walk and the Ascian was becoming increasingly intrigued by where their steps would carry them. She was only about a half fulm shorter than his current form, but with the way she was carrying herself she seemed smaller, younger, unsure.

“Well, my dear,” he chuckled, “I would not have concealed my true nature well within that little empire if I had been opening void-gates at each stroke of the hour. You will find I possess a vast array of talents.” He enjoyed the way ‘dear’ rolled right off of her, like a skipping stone barely touching the surface of the water. That was just like a mortal not to notice something so painfully familiar. She truly had no idea who she was.

“What did you use, then?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts, her eyes firmly on his now. “How did you bring her back?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “What is the phrase? ‘A magician never reveals his secrets?’”

Her eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Don’t give me that. Tell me how you did it.”

“You cannot do me harm with your eyes,” he said, chuckling again as she continued to glower at him. “Why? Is it not similar to how you heal?”

She paused, and all of the warmth of the red from earlier turned cool. “There is a difference between healing and bringing back the dead,” she said, her voice lower now. “I’ve never seen someone plucked from the stream before.”

“Gods, how weak you all are,” he mused aloud, “No wonder you all are so frightened and easily swayed.” He couldn’t fathom feeling so powerless. The things he could do at the snap of his fingers were only myths and legends, even for Hydaelyn’s most esteemed champion.

Audrieth suddenly moved to stand in front of him, blocking him off from walking any further. They nearly collided, but his movements were slow enough that he anticipated the new obstacle and came to a halt before her.

“You want my gratitude? You want my trust?” she asked, her eyes blazing, as red seeped back into her aura. “Answer my questions. With straight answers, not distracting insults.”

Emet Selch let out a heavy sigh. “Back to threats, are we?”

“It’s not a threat,” she said, jutting up her chin a bit, “It’s compromise. I need a reason to heed you and allow you near my friends.”

“Oh? And my reviving of the dead is not reason enough?”

“It’s...a start,” she said hesitantly, “Look, I just-” She cut herself off, tearing her eyes away from his as she was bombarded with waves of complex feelings she didn’t fully understand. He watched the black and silver and red and blue mixing and blurring like water-colored paint, patiently waiting.

“You need me,” she finally said, “I don’t know what for, but there’s a reason you haven’t been interfering with anything we’ve done yet. You say you’re also being honest, which I don’t trust for a second. But you want something from me, I can tell.”

Her eyes darted up to his once, more gauging his reaction. He wasn’t going to give her one. But oh, was this getting to be very interesting indeed. “Is that what you think?” he asked, his face passive and unreadable.

“Well, you’re not outright denying it or insulting me, which makes me think I might not be too far off,” she said, her weight shifting. She was gaining confidence, her shoulders rolled down again as she relaxed.

“Aren’t you clever. You can read me like a book.” His smirk reached the outer edges of his cheek. “I can keep no secrets from you.”

She pointedly ignored his sarcastic jabs and continued, “And the fact that it’s me, and no one else here, means something. Based on all of the other Ascians I’ve met, it means power.” Audrieth stood a bit taller now, not taller than him, but certainly meeting his gaze head on. “So, I have a proposal.”

Emet Selch tilted his head, squinting as sunlit rays bounced off of his conversation partner. For a moment, the light disrupted his vision, and everything with Audrieth’s profile shone a blinding white. It was amusing watching her, letting her think she had all the answers. He enjoyed teasing her so much he was always startled when she managed to surprise him.

“Go on.”

The elezen took in a shaky breath, her eyes as cloudy as he was sure her thoughts were. “If you tell me what I want to know, I will be even more powerful.”

One of his eyebrows quirked. “And?”

She flipped some strands of hair which had tumbled onto her chest over her shoulder, trying in vain to hide her apprehension. “It is in your best interest to help me. If you tell me how you brought Y’shtola back, teach me even-”

Emet Selch lifted a hand to stop her. “Well, well, well. The Warrior of Light wishes to bargain with an Ascian. What would your little friends think if they could hear you now, I wonder? I did not know Hydaelyn taught her minions to grovel so shamelessly.”

“I’m not a minion and you know it,” she shot back, red starting to swallow up the black. He could not help but notice that her cheeks were flushed now as she spoke. “And you are dodging the question, like you always do. Trustworthy people do not dodge questions.”

He let out a snort of laughter as he watched her fume. “Yes, because you have never dodged a question in your life.”

Audrieth huffed and looked away again, glaring at a nearby glowing spore. “Case in point,” she grumbled. Perhaps he had ruffled her feathers enough.

“Forgive me, my dear,” he resigned his torture. Poor thing could only handle so much. “You are quite entertaining when you are flustered.”

Though her words were low, he thought he could make out something resembling a rather charged dismissal. Yes, her short patience had been lost, he realized. This was about the part in most conversations where he allowed her to leave, having given up on trying to understand or solve his riddles. But something made him want to speak further.

“The fact of the matter is, it is not something I can teach or share with you.”

That got her attention. Her hesitant curiosity drew her questioning eyes back to him. “It’s not?”

He shook his head and sidestepped around her, wishing to continue their pace. He half expected her to stand her ground and block him from moving, but she let him pass, her eyes following him. “To be able to grasp what I accomplished by procuring your friend,” he said, “There is an entire universe of knowledge you would need to grasp first. And you,” he glanced back at her over his shoulder, “...are not ready.”

That ever so predictable denial flared up once more. “I am ready.”

“No, you are not,” he sighed. “But you will be.” He watched her disgruntled expression turn to one of intrigue. She opened her mouth to respond.

With a snap of his fingers, he was gone from her vision, hiding in the shadows somewhere, watching the aftermath of their little interaction. Red and blue clashing, fighting and forcing the black and silver away. A frustrated stamp on the ground whose sound was muffled by the soft grass beneath it. But Audrieth was still after that, breathing steadily until her heartbeat returned to its normal pace. And after a few moments more, one of her Scion accomplices called her, bringing her away from her wandering thoughts and back to their mission. The colors subdued to their standard gray.

But just before Emet Selch decided to depart, to shift his ethereal gaze to another tortured soul, he caught a glimpse of silvery shimmer, that almost seemed to reflect the light of the sun.

#seaswolchallenge #ffxiv #my writing #HOO boy here we go #metaphors are hard #shadowbringers #emet selch

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twelveswood · 5 years

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WoL/Crystal Exarch!G’raha Tia [part two]

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[part one] Rating: PG-13 Summary: There is yet more G’raha would share with his Warrior of Darkness. “Even when we parted for what felt like the final time, back so long ago… you stirred such emotion in me. it was only because of you, that I made my choice. I have seen the effect you have on people, I was not, and still am not, an exception. To stand beside you then, a woman of such greatness, to see you fight and strive for a better future, I knew I had to go into that tower. To protect that future you fought for. In a way only I could, just as you do so much because only you can.”

He took her the long way to the pendants, clearly something on his mind. She didn’t ask, she wouldn’t have known what to ask to be truthful, but her gaze kept shifting towards him before darting back ahead. She was also keenly aware of their joined hands and had to wonder if he was as well. Or was he truly so lost to thought? She was so lost in her own mind she barely noticed as their steps began to slow and eventually halt just above the Pendants. His voice caught her by surprise and she tensed to be pulled from her thoughts as he spoke. “There is… something else I would have you know.” He seemed tense, but… resolved at the same time, despite his inability to meet her gaze initially, despite turning to face her. He swallowed hard, enough that it was a visible movement, before he let his vibrant red eyes find hers. She remained silent, a nervous flutter in her chest. Was this good*? Was it bad? She honestly could not tell from his wholly serious disposition. And then his hand slipped from hers which felt like it drew away all the warmth in her body for the briefest moment until it was all returned to her, and then some, as his fingers brushed along her jaw, hand resting against her cheek. “The G’raha of your time would not have been brave enough, or… perhaps it is not courage that separates us, but a sense of urgency, not… knowing how long I may have left here. Which I suppose is true for everyone but…” he pursed his lips, “.. I will not get sidetracked.” She could not help but lean into the warmth of his hand a little, certain he could feel the burning of her cheeks, but she did not care. “... I have told you you are my inspiration,” he took a step closer and she did not move away - she couldn’t if she wanted to anyway, she was nearly against the railing of the walkway, “But I would be twice a liar to you, to say it was not… deeper than that.” “G’raha…” His name escaped her, barely more than a whisper, yet it was still enough to make his ears perk, to bring that light of wonderment to his eyes. She had nothing else to say, she didn’t know what to say. She could barely fathom out her own thoughts against the sound of her heart thrumming in her chest, blood pumping through her ears. “Ah…” That steely resolve cracked a little and he smiled, embarrassed, “How you knock the wind from my sails with a single word, my own name, on your lips. It’s almost frustrating.” He did not seem frustrated, however, he seemed quite pleased. “Even when we parted for what felt like the final time, back so long ago… you stirred such emotion in me. it was only because of you, that I made my choice. I have seen the effect you have on people, I was not, and still am not, an exception. To stand beside you then, a woman of such greatness, to see you fight and strive for a better future, I knew I had to go into that tower. To protect that future you fought for. In a way only I could, just as you do so much because only you can.” She lightly gnawed on her lower lip, which he noticed, and allowed himself a moment to admire before pulling himself back to the present. "Ah… well I… am sure this is a lot to take in and I apologize, but I--" "Don't…" she started, hushed, voice soft but filled with wonder, "... don't apologize." He swallowed hard, having never once been able to anticipate how she might react to his impassioned admission. Favorably had been the hope, but… she was incredibly hard to predict, wasn't she? All things considered… He had planned to die for her, to never reveal himself.* But she'd seen that plan foiled, hasn't she? "... then I won't. Apologize, I mean. Uhm," his bravado began to slip away and he cleared his throat, a slight tremble at his fingertips where he held her face in his hands. "I.. never thought I'd get this chance, and I… would never forgive myself if I did not take advantage of this opportunity, especially not knowing… how long…" She didn't want to hear him finish. She didn't want to think about all the what ifs, the possibilities, the fact that absolutely none of this made sense. She's traveled to an entirely different world! It was all nonsense, wasn't it? And here he was, traveling through space and time, knowing he would erase the timeline in which he came from, and he was still here! None of it made sense, and she didn't want it to. But more than anything she wanted him to stop talking. So she stole the words that threatened spill from his lips by closing what little distance there was between them, pressing her mouth to his. To say he was startled would be an understatement. His eyes widened, ears perking, tail stiffening, but only for a moment before he all but melted against her lips. She wasn't sure how much time passed in those moments, all she knew was a sudden need to breathe, which was the only reason she drew back. "I don't… want to think about you leaving… not again," her words were breathless and had a touch of sadness to them which wounded him deeper than she could have ever imagined. He brushed some hair from the side of her face, looking at her with such unrestrained affection, "Then I shall have to keep your mind occupied." With his hands still resting at either side of her face he tilted her head down, kissing her forehead before dipping his chin down to catch her lips with his again. Though he might have seemed cooly confident from the outside, his heart was absolutely hammering in his chest, butterflies wreaking havoc on his insides. This was really happening? How he had longer to have her beside him for ages now, not just because she was a necessary tool in saving this world, but as the friend he had left behind so long ago. Someone he had cared for then, and reading tales of her triumphs, details of her ventures, it made him feel as if he was close to her even when he knew she was unreachable. Well, until more recently. But he knew in calling her here… he would be asking much of her. And he could not let himself be known to her… no, not like he wished he could. Until now, until it was all said and done and he had no choice in the matter. But Gods, he was glad for this chance. For these moments. For this moment, most specifically, to taste the sweetness of her tongue with his own. "Ha..." She was first to pull back with a soft breathless laugh. Her cheeks burned seeming to only now realize what exactly was transpiring She found herself backed against the railing, her hands now gripping it as if to hold herself up with her legs weak as they were. "That was, uhm… not… not what I expected you'd… wanted to talk about." She said as if she were not perhaps the most guilty party between the two of them for instigating all that. He offered his own quick nervous little laugh, her embarrassment contagious - or at least he would say it was simply that and not because he himself was well flustered on his own. "Truth be told it was not the.. talk… I imagined I'd be having either. But you are nothing short of unpredictable. You always have been. It's something I have always loved about you." Her eyes widened and she forced her gaze away at such a telling comment. He spine straightened a bit as he drew both hands back, dragging one through his hair, the pair of them absolutely a flustered mess. "R-right well, I was… escorting you home, wasn't I?" "You were," she chewed on her lip once more, unable to bite back the lovestruck grin that tugged at her lips, "I think." He sputtered slightly, "My good lady, if you are insinuating I had anything but the best of intentions…" She laughed, this time light and airy, less of the nervousness to her tone. "Then I suppose you had better take me home, lest I get the wrong impression." He scoffed at her but there was a grin playing at the corners of his lips. He offered her a hand, which she accepted, and he twined their fingers together. The walk between where they were and down the stairs to the Inn was short, but they took their time.

#5.0 spoilers #ff14 spoilers #g'raha tia #crystal exarch #wol/g'raha tia #wol/crystal exarch #if this gets notes maybe i'll write smut

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finalfantasyxivwritings · 5 years

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One Night in Thanalan (1/?)

AO3 Version | Chapter Tag Here

Relationship: Samilen Jawantal (OC)/X’rhun Tia

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Samilen Jawantal, the Warrior of Light, has recently taken on the duty of learning the dying art of red magic. Between the wonderful teaching of X'rhun Tia and the passing on of his Soul Stone, Samilen has learned a lot even in a short period of time, but there's something wrong. The Soul Stone is passing on more than mere techniques and knowledge--emotions, memories, all of them intertwined as one, bringing Samilen closer and closer to the man who had entrusted him with it.

Samilen finally seeks out X'rhun for help in combating these feelings, but what will happen to the Warrior of Light when he is caught in a balancing act of not red magic, but love and lust?

Note: This is an ongoing adaptation/formatted version of an RP I have been writing with my fiance (@blood--hunter) putting together my Keeper Miqo'te WOL (@samilenjawantal) and X'rhun Tia, the red mage teacher. Let me know if you spot any formatting errors!

The Coffin and Coffer could be described as many things. Decerped came to mind first. But what mattered most to X'rhun was that it was usually quiet, and offered a relatively peaceful place to have a drink.

Just earlier he had given Samilen a soul stone. A supplementary-like item to facilitate someone's quick joining of the Red Mage's ranks, which were already thinned down to but two members--X’rhun himself was but one of those members, the other being someone only recently trained. Nevertheless, he trusted Samilen. He was already a strong, determined individual. That much X'rhun knew.

But he didn't know what was to come, and that was an adventure in and of itself.

The doors to the tavern open and X'rhun almost thinks that it's another person come to seek shelter from the blistering heat of Thanlan's sun. Instead it is the white-haired miqo'te that he has come to know. The smile on his lips is easy and easier still are the words that leave his mouth.

"Ah! Samilen! Come, join me for a drink." He says with his usual flourish.

At least it isn't hard to find the man.

Samilen feels a smile form on his face at the sight of X'rhun, if only for the familiarity that has already begun to bloom whenever he so much as hears the older miqo'te's voice ring out over the bustle of the Coffin and Coffer. It's not a common thing for adventurers to find familiarity in things when they are so busy in moving around, especially as a Scion, but the few people fall into such places in Samilen's heart are hard to be forgotten or dismissed.

It's been a few weeks since Samilen had last seen X'rhun, though he already had a multitude of questions to ask--red magic was so much different than what he'd already experienced and, more subtly, he hoped to impress the man with what he's already managed to grasp.

The young adventurer is quick to shuffle around the people in the tavern, making his way over to the table at which the red mage sits.

"I'm glad to see you," Samilen says, his voice just a touch louder than normal to catch over the boisterous energy of the tavern around them. "Do you have time for a couple questions between teacher and student?" His eyes catch as a barmaid makes her way closer to the table. "Though perhaps they are best after a few drinks--it has been a little while."

"Of course," X’rhun extends his arm, opening himself for questioning, as it was, "I would expect quite a few. Red Mages are few and far between and Alisaie mentioned you were quite the curious one."

He winks, because of course he has to, under that wide brimmed hat of his. The tavern is loud in the way that most are but X'rhun doesn't make an effort to raise his voice. Some things needed to stay between friends and Samilen was definitely his friend now. He wouldn't give his soul stone to just anyone. He had only known the younger Miqo'te for such a short amount of time but ... it was nice to have a comrade again, no matter how new. He just hoped he didn't turn out like his last ones.

A bitter but happy thought.

Samilen isn't sure how to feel with the gesture and the words--or especially the combination of the two--so he tries desperately to keep a straight face as a mild heat creeps across his cheeks. It's hard, but at least he's able to keep a hold over his words, the questions had been gnawing at the back of Samilen's mind ever since he touched the ruby-red soul crystal.

Ever since the memories of red mages old all but stuffed themselves inside of his mind.

He doesn't want to seem desperate or, worse, naïve. Samilen had been good at things for so long that it feels awkward to know so little about a skill--it's not an uncomfortable feeling as it simply is unfamiliar, though it's hilarious yet that he's not used to feeling out of place for the things that he often does. If anything, Samilen waits for the first set of drinks to find their way to the table; he nurses the ale gently, knowing little for how strong the local brew is and very keenly aware of his lack of fortitude in all things alcoholic.

"I...am curious about some things," he finally finds the voice to say. "About how red magic affects...someone. I have briefly touched on white magic and felt much the effects of black, but this...is wholly different. Is it common to feel....side effects?"

X'rhun allows himself to lean forwards. He regards Samilen with much the same curiosity one had at a particularly interesting work of art. "Side effects? Well, there are some, I'm sure." He leans back again, resting one hand on the stem of his beer. He tries to think, hard, back two decades to when he'd first picked up his craft. "You would have to describe them too me. I'm afraid I don't quite know of what you speak." Or, at least, his old brain had let him forget his early days. He had been gallivanting around Ala Mhigo during that time, and many things had gone unnoticed their doomed plan to free the city, for example.

Ah, that's what Samilen had been dreading. For all that he had given thought to wording his concerns, all of those words leave him when called to bare themselves for an answer.

The keeper stares down at his drink for a few seconds as if willing it to the be the most wonderful and glorious thing in the room--he could not hold the older man's gaze for fear that he'd catch something from the glint of Samlien's eyes, as the old rumor goes for one in any school of magic could very well peer into another's soul if given enough experience.

"Well, there have been...dreams. Visions." Samilen swallows down a rock that's formed in his throat. "When in the heat of battle I've caught glimpses of conflicts I've never been apart of. People I've never met. I could have sworn even that I once cast verfire and could have sworn I heard it in another's voice." He pauses for a breath, another, and then a third. "....your voice, to be specific."

X'rhun's ears flicker beneath his hat, perching at the front of his head like two dogs ready to strike. Ah. That had sounded more familiar that he would like. In his younger days, when he was just barely twenty, he had known much the same feeling. As he had gotten more and more used to his magic he had experienced intense visions of Red Mages past.

He had even had more intense ... personal visions.

Though he had never had the gall to ask his compatriots, it seemed much the same for those around him. Those who had received a Soul Stone at least, which was a rare occurrence--rarer still when a scant few still exist. How could he forget such a thing? No wonder Eorzea required a permit to their exchange, as rare of items as they were.

He had wholly forgotten the negative side-effects and now Samilen was paying the price.

"Ah," He says, pressing a thumb to his own chin, "That sounds about right. I believe it is your the work of your Soul Stone. It's not uncommon to experience such things from mages past. Don't worry, the more you slip into your magic the weaker they will become. They may be ... intense ... from time to time but it is normal. I promise.” X’rhun tries to offer a teasing smile. “You're like a teenager just coming into themselves right now."

Samilen could almost feel the stone burning in the pouch against his hip, secured and rarely forgotten, though he isn't sure whether it's the stone or his face that burns hotter under the other miqo'te's heavy, nay, suggestive words.

Though it gives Samilen a great sense of relief to know he's not gone insane, he's hardly to mention that the visions are not wholly unwelcome . Comfortable, at times, if a little overwhelming. It feels very much the same as when Hydaelyn herself had enveloped the man in her warm embrace, a protection beyond what the physical realm can truly describe.

"Well," the man finally says, hoping to stall the moment with a long drink of the bitter, cold ale. "That...would explain a lot of things, I suppose. It is like...reliving the memories in the crystal? Only playing what has already been placed within it?"

X'rhun nods, "Exactly so." He confirms. Though putting memories into the Soul Stone was not an exact science. It was, in fact, mostly just the strongest memories the previous owner had while wielding it. Some of those were more ... sexual than others. His most powerful Vercure could exist right beside that time he'd rutted off to the sound of the pleasure house next door. Memories were much the same way, tied in strings in ways one could not decipher readily. "Do not fret. It is nothing to be truly embarrassed about."

Still, X'rhun did not look forward to having to explain some of the things Samilen would come to experience...assuming he hadn’t already.

Samilen could only stare at X'rhun in a mixture of blankness and exasperation, debating within himself if it was worth bringing his truer issues up with the man or not. Would the outcome be worth the risk of forever marking himself oddly to the red mage master? To tell him of the things Samilen has seen, experienced and even felt ? It is through the ignorance of ever touching a soulstone, ever understanding the workings of such a piece of magic that fuels his fear to speak.

He doesn't know what X'rhun already suspects is happening to him.

"I'd wager to disagree on that," is all that Samilen can bring himself to say, heat growing ever stronger in his cheeks that he hopes it can be hidden and lied about by the thrum of alcohol instead, of which the younger miqo'te finishes with a long drink. It burns something horrible in his belly, but at least it loosens up his anxiety--just a little bit.

X’rhun fixes him with a look and lets himself move forwards, tapping the wood of the table in front of Samilen. He could take a guess as to what the other man had ... experienced.

"Tell me..." He hums, tilting his head some. He had worked decades to be an honorable man. Had kept his Oath when all others had fallen around him. At one point he had thought of taking up drinking to soothe the ache, but alcohol costs much for a poor man. The sword had been a better addiction but roads tend to take you to interesting places. "... Have you felt the soft hands of a woman on your cock while you were near sleep?"

Whatever shame X'rhun had used to feel left him years ago. There is only so much you can experience on the road before it doesn't bother you anymore. Explain to Samilen the echos of sexual encounters he would feel was just a drop in the bucket.

A new stone has found its way into Samilen's throat, thick and sharp and greedy for all of what lingers of the young man's fortitude and focus. He can't consider anything but the question that lingers low and hard in the air between he and X'rhun, can't think of anything but how he'd spent the last several nights in a feverish haze of dreams and visions leaving him so near completion that it could have been labeled torture.

Samilen grips his glass tight, tight enough that he's faintly worried that it may crack against his grip.

"....it....wasn't a woman," is all the young keeper can bring himself to whisper, gaze fallen to the wooden surface of the table as shame begins to well up in his chest, a readiness to bolt out of the tavern already in the back of his mind.

X'ruhn's brows lift in understanding. Was that embarrassing to the younger man? Eorzea had not suffered from such bigotry in over a century.

"Ah," He says, trying to keep his voice soothing but he can see the shame mounting in Samilen's eyes. A feeling a not un-similar to guilt builds in his chest. He reaches out, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Look, Samilen we ... Lets go outside."

He stands, lets his chair scrape loudly so that the attention is on him and not his companion, so that he doesn't have to worry about people staring at him.

Samilen is a man often told at how stoic he looks; as a Scion, as the Warrior of Light, as many things--he's been told how controlled he keeps his emotions or, on occasion, he's questioned if he feels them at all. What's a hero if not one who looks fearless, after all?

But this is not one of those times, this is not one of those things--so easily can Samilen stuff the trauma of battle into the back of his memories, but hardly muffle the intensity of embarrassment and worry and a million other things that twist his stomach like a spring. All he can do is nod at the other man's suggestion, trying desperately to keep a cold, blank expression on his face as the two of them make their way outside of the tavern. The sky is darkening, the wind feels cool--it's a peaceful evening in Thanalan and one that Samilen treasures more with every passing day.

He follows X'rhun and tries desperately not to wring his hands together.

X'rhun leads them out and onto what could be called a patio. He stands, leaning his forearms against the wooden railing as he watches the dust swirl over the landscape.

"This reminds me of Ala Mihgo." He admits, tilting his head slight. "I used to be quite the catch in those days. I had men and women both fawning over me. What a surprise it must have been for my father when I chose to become a revolutionary and not a Nuhn."

He smiles, one small and rueful, "I suppose I should be sad at the path I chose but I do not regret it. Not in the slightest." He turns to Samilen. "I do not what you to be embarrassed around me, Samilen. It is alright to feel what you feel and I give you permission to act on it how you choose, but do not hide it from me."

Samilen's mind flickers between several emotions, though he does his best to focus on the soft words that fall from X'rhun's mouth, to think back on a time when the red mage master was young and when life was far short of worries and stress. And, truth be told, it wasn't all that hard to see him as the center of attention to others--even with the years gone by the older seeker still is quite admirable in more ways than one, though it was not until the effects of the Soul Stone that Samilen allowed himself but a passing fancy about those bright eyes, snow-white hair and almost haughty grin of his.

The keeper swallows thickly. "I imagine that it's much easier for you to say that, being on your side of the situation, though it's not particularly.....easy for me to bring up."

He's not quite sure if this is the outcome he wanted--would it have been easier for X'rhun to explain the meaning and simply tell Samilen to never speak of it again? To pretend as if it never happened? Samilen is not sure.

"Wouldn't you rather me hide it though? You offered these skills and knowledge as a teacher and this--these--these feelings are hardly appropriate."

The seeker laughs lightly, moving to lean his hip against the wooden railing that scarcely separated bar from ground.

"They aren't appropriate, no. But they are natural and they do come with the business of soul stones. If feel the need to discuss them then I give you full permission to, but I will not force you into such a situation."

He looks at Samilen, casting the young keeper a glance with his blue hues, "It won't do to hide part of yourself. Balance is part of a Red Mage's task. You must find the balance within yourself." A soothing smile works over his lips, "I am your teacher. I simply wish to help you find your balance."

Samilen brings a fist to his lips, teeth almost gnawing against one of his knuckles for a moment as he deeply considers the worth of his soul and if he is going anywhere pleasant in the afterlife.

"And that only makes it more reprehensible," he argues after a moment, finally dropping his hand so that he can play his fingers against one of the buckles of his shirt, pulling at the leather and metal in their eagerness to be doing something . "There's hardly anything to talk about. I just--I want--..."

' I want them .' Though it's the truth, he can't bring himself to say something like that to the man before him. He's supposed to be ashamed of the feelings, and yet Samilen can't help but find himself almost desperate in the night's he's awoken by half-dreamt hands pressing against his skin and a powerful voice all but growling in his ears. It's certainly an issue that's creeping into Samilen's ability to learn red magic, but the keeper is desperately ashamed in that...well....he likes them.

"I don't know anymore." Is all he can finally say, hands moving up to hide his face in a moment of pure, overwhelming exasperation.

X'ruhn approaches Samilen in less than the time it takes to breathe. He crowds into the other man’s space space; he does not corner him, no, but he does get closer than he needs to be.

His memories call back to Alisaie. She had been a different case entirely and had refused the soul stone out of principal. He wonders now if she knew the side effects, with how very learned she was she probably did. He feels guilt for forcing these feeling onto Samilen.

"Do you need me to take it from you?" He asks, setting a hand on his shoulder. "If you can not handle it... if you feel panic at being shown these visions..." His brow furrows in worry. "Is there anything that I can do to help alleviate this pain?"

Samilen can practically feel X'rhun as the man nears him, his body churning into overdrive as the trickles of emotions start to fall over his thoughts--his breathing quickens, just a hair, but it's enough to make his heart start hammering against his ribcage and throw his thoughts into chaos.

The mere mention of taking away the Soul Stone brings Samilen's face back into view, expression suddenly distraught for a number of reasons--fear, longing, a feeling of pain for disappointing someone he trusts.

"No!" he says, almost hisses with a fervent shake of the head. "No no I--I want it, I want to keep it, I--"

X'rhun is so physically close. Samilen's body all but shakes, the Soul Stone burning his hip through the leather pouch and bringing forth flashes of memories from the evenings since taking the ruby-red gift in hand. The nights of hazy passion, of desperate mewls and the touch of Samilen's own hand finishing the memory of another, touch like fire against his cock.

All the keeper can do is stare up at X'rhun, face hot and ears pinned back, expression desperate for a mixture of reasons that twist hard in the pit of Samilen's stomach.

X'ruhn looks down, his brow quirks for but a fraction of a second before he move forwards again.

"Samilen." He lets his voice slip low, a rumble in the back of his throat. "If you need something. You need to ask."

It's not a command, he would never command him to do this. But he does let the hand on his shoulder squeeze a little harder before it slips lower down his arm, gripping softly at the meat of his bicep and pulls him flat to him. He knew that Samilen was muscled, a man who was once a bard could never not be, but he feels all of him against the planes of his chest, even with the layers upon layers of clothes he wears.

Samilen can't hide the gasp that falls from his lips when his body presses against X'rhun's own, the older's grip firm and unyielding as he tugs them together. It leaves so many things hazy and so many more things clear as crystal, though the focus seems to fall quickly on the fact that Samilen is but hard against his trousers and can't help but feel a shiver of pleasure in how good it feels when the red mage's hips slot against his own, if only for a moment.

"I need-" Samilen bites his lip and tries uselessly to get his brain to work, to organize the situation and all that's happening, to at least try to put together all of the emotions in their rightful place. Alas, he can't--all he can think about is the man's low growl and rough hands on his skin.

"I need you." The words are hot with yearning. "Please, please I need--I need you ."

X’rhun is quick to respond, slotting his own lips against Samilen. He has to bow at the waist to do it, so much shorter than him is the other man, but he manages it all the same.

He takes Samilen into his arms, one hand going the small of his back and catching there, pressing him closer and closer still. This would be a quick rut. Not many people passed by the Coffer & Coffin, regardless they were also hidden by the shadows. Stranger things have happened in Thanlan than two men seeking pleasure with each other at the far end of a bar. His hand moves to Samilens crotch, pulling at the lacing there.

"How do you want it?" He asks, voice husky in his chest.

"Just-" Samilen's voice catches in his throat as his mind all but rolls over the words, the question, made so ravishing by the deep tone of X'rhun's voice. "Touch me, fuck me, I don't care. Anything."

Truly, Samilen hardly has a preference at that point, so addled with lust and yearning that he's hard-pressed to pick when the mere notion of X'rhun being pressed against him while he crests over climax is plenty enough to leave the younger man feeling dizzy with emotions. His hands reach up to grip at the other's shoulders, fingers winding tight in the ruby-red fabric that the keeper has come to know X'rhun for. He wants to keep the man close, so close, wants the moment to be forever seared into memory if only to sate the curiosity and wanting that digs against his heart and thoughts.

X'rhun presses closer, his hand stripping away the laces that keep Samilen's pants joined to his hips. He pulls them down slightly, revealing his underclothes and along with it, his straining cock. Thankfully the older male kept oils on him. In his travels they had come in handy from more things than just polishing his blade, euphemism entirely intended.

He presses the Keeper's underclothes down, freeing him of their constraints enough to reveal his cock. X'rhun was already hard as well and this sight did not help matters much. He pumps Samilen, once, twice, but then his hand is working at his own pants, trying to get them off.

Though addled with heat and stomach all but twisting with lust, Samilen certainly has enough of his wits still about to reach his hands down between the two of them, eager to help loosen the front of X'rhun's pants. Every brush of the back of the seeker's hands against his cock feels like electricity down Samilen's spine, only spurring him on all the faster, the question of what the other man's cock may feel like rutting against his own nothing short of desperate.

"Let me help-" is all the younger man can say, words nothing more than a rush of sounds and syllables as his fingers find how to loosen the buckle at the front of the other's pants.

The keeper hisses, one of pleasure as Samilen's quick hands are able to press away his belt and laces as if they are nothing. His pants threaten to fall as he moves Samilen back. Farther away from the lamp light and into a corner of the patio where someone might be unable to tell what they were doing.

X’rhun is careful to tug down his undergarments, hissing once more as the cool night air touches his already sensitive cock. It was large, ribbed, with a bulbous head that had made him embarrassed when he was younger but was now a large boost to his ego.

With a blink, Samilen came to realize that X'rhun was nothing if not proportional , leaving him with a heavy flush across his dark cheeks and a sudden twist to his stomach, as if his body could finally just feel --and twelve be damned, it felt for what those golden eyes see. As their hips press closer, both of their cocks come close enough that Samilen just can't help but compare, if only for a breath so hot and quick that X'rhun's comment of him repeating the coming into manhood was more accurate than he assumed.

"I never realized seekers were..." Samilen whispers hotly, voice trailing off as his eyes can't help but look down, then finally back up to the other man's face, lower lip drawn between his sharp teeth. "....bigger."

The Twelve help him; X’rhun laughs, only stopping when he bites his own lip.

"I told you I was to be Nuhn, yes?" He says, taking one glove off and then the other. They fall to the ground without a care and he takes the oil from his pocket. "In Seeker tribes," He explains, pouring some onto his fingers, "When you become Nuhn you tend to become ... bigger. In more ways than in musculature."

X'rhun rumbles another laugh. "I suppose I've gotten so old and been on the road for so long my body responded ... accordingly." He moves his hand behind Samilen, finding the base of his tail and then tracing down, circling his finger at his entrance. "I hope you don't mind."

Samilen all but whines as he feels fingertips tracing past the base of his tail, and squirms when those same fingers start to press against the tight muscles beneath. It brings to mind the last time he'd done something similar--which is to say but a handful of escapades several years earlier and with men and women of equal experience that he had (which was little at that point in Samilen's life).

The keeper's legs widen in an almost instinctual response and his ass presses back eagerly against the rough pressure of X'rhun's fingers but toying against the rim of his entrance.

"I...hardly mind," he breathes out through parted lips, arms seeking to wrap around the other's neck to anchor himself closer. "I don't see how I could mind at all, actually, it's--it's a bit of a turn-on, actually."

X'rhun hums, giving him a small kiss on the lips before he dares to press his finger into him, thrusting it in and out a handful of times before he sets a steady rhythm. He presses a hand into the soft white that is Samilen's hair, letting it lace through the tresses there, undoing his so tightly kept braid. He would be wrecked and beautiful after this, and X'rhun would be lying if he said he wasn't excited to see it.

"Good," He says against his lips, rutting his cock forward against the other Miqo'te's with a low growl.

So much happens in but a scant few breaths of time, though Samilen takes it all with a blooming willingness in his chest, a rapturous twist of heat in his stomach as the desperate frayed edges of his fantasies become nothing short of real and material. He's caught between the seeker's finger slipping deep within him, rubbing against his inner walls in careful encouragement to loosen him up, and the hot pressure of a stiff cock rutting against his own.

Samilen would have been a liar to say he wasn't excited by the notion of all of it happening, by even the soft peck of X'rhun's lips intimately against his own for but a flicker of a moment.

But it's the growl that gets him the most, the low noise seeming to make something just click in the keeper's mind, a switch left dormant in his brain that's finally been toyed with enough to life--and of all the noises that slip from his lips, he can't help but mewl .

"Careful," The older man says, even as his cock stirs to leadened hardness, even as he presses another finger alongside the first one, scissoring them in an attempt to steadily get Samilen ready for his girth and length. The mewl is so soft, so sweet, a man who has defeated beasts X'rhun wouldn't dare to have nightmares about is mere putty in his hands.

He presses his lips to an ear, reveling in the softness of his fur, "You wouldn't want someone to hear? Would you?" He asks, his voice a purr as he ruts his hips again, almost drowning in how good it feels.

Samilen's ears flick gently against X'rhun's lips, the words doing more to stoke the flames in his belly than put them out. What if someone did see them? Would they do anything? Would they sit there and watch? Samilen can't seem to find the shame to twist the thought out of his mind, a throbbing in his cock from the mere possibility that they could be caught--no, that Samilen himself could be caught. The esteemed warrior of light with his pants around his ankles, getting railed hard just outside a tavern like some desperate whore.

"Fuck," the man all but squeaks, ducking his head beneath X'rhun's chin, trying to figure out whether he wanted to press his hips forward or back as he's stretched open on thick, experienced digits.

Purring comfortingly, X’rhun presses his fingers through Samilen's twisting white locks once more as he adds a third finger.

He's careful now, spreading them to stretch Samilen open more as he readies him for the real thing now. He hears the wood squeak beneath someone's feet as they leave the bar. They either don't notice or don't care what they're doing as they walk past without incident. Good. He certainly didn't want them interrupted.

His cock was fire between his legs and he knew that only Samilen could sate this burning within him.

May the gods strike him down where he stand, Samilen absolutely felt a throb in his cock at the squeak of the wood hardly several yalms away from them. It's almost that he could feel the gaze of the anonymous bar-goer, though it could have easily been a trick of his own addled mind in the heat of the moment--regardless it did things to him, twisted and gnawed at the pit of his stomach just as he felt a third finger slide past the tight ring of muscle.

" X'rhun ," Samilen half-mewls, the noise muffled somewhat in the fabric of the man's jacket. Three digits already feel so thick, the calloused tips rubbing expertly against walls of his ass that he could go insane with the rising pleasure--would his cock even fit? Despite the worry, Samilen couldn't stop the eagerness in his voice as he all but pleaded,

"More, please--need you now--"

All X’rhun can do is nod. He wasn't about torture the man. Gently he turns him around, having Samilen hang onto the wooden pole that lifted the roof over them. His hands are firm on hips as he presses the head of his thick cock to the other man's entrance.

He teases it there, shivering at the pleasure that spikes up his spine and down into the pit of his stomach. He wants nothing more than to plunge into him and take him against the railing of the patio, but he waits instead, slowly getting him used to the idea of even his cock entering him.

Samilen grips the pole, his forehead pressed to the wood and his nails digging in deep, clinging to something to give him anchor as his muscles twitch and ache for the thick heat pressing against him. He almost expects X'rhun to thrust without hesitation, if only for the heat of the moment and the rushed nature of the encounter itself. No, Samilen certainly doesn't expect for the older man to wait, to pause long enough that Samilen can get his thoughts in order--long enough that it's purposed and it means something deep in the keeper's chest.

Samilen's ears pin back as he can't find the words to plead--only actions, his ass pressing back against X'rhuns thick cock to encourage the man forward and to slip inside of his needing body.

The seeker huffs, mostly because his last, single thread of control snaps, and he presses into Samilen with a groan.

At first, he takes it as slowly as he can, pressing into the smaller body before him inch by inch. X'rhun's fingers grip at his hips, squeezing there as he tries not to just take the man before him. Samilen was a good soul, a good Red Mage, he shouldn't have to put up with someone like X'rhun pounding him like a simple whore.

Eventually he allows himself to slot inside the younger man, biting his lip to keep back a cuss that stirs at the back of his throat. Oh, it'd been too long and yet just long enough.

Samilen is certainly no virgin, though there are too many years between his last encounter with a man and the breathless moment of now. He scarcely recalls what it was like to be beneath another person, to feel their hands on his hips and their body against his.

He remembers fooling around in the shadows of the soldiers' quarters of the Twin Adders, of curious kisses and desperate hands, of movements yet experienced and the shape of a cock spreading him open while he could only keep his lips sealed of noises that threatened to fall out.

But this, oh, this is something different; a combination of many years untouched and partners lacking as much experience (or girth ) as the miqo'te behind Samilen right now. His body opens up to the intrusion, slicked with oil and finger-fucked to a looseness that leaves him gaping soundlessly against the wooden pole--Samilen felt sorry for anyone who may look upon the marks he's leaving with his claws and wonder what caused them.

" Fuck ," the keeper whispers, the sound breaking up in his throat and only barely loud enough to hear. "Fuckfuckfuckyou'resobig-"

His tail lashes angrily against X'rhuns stomach as every inch of is sheathed within his wanting body, unable to find purchase or rest even when the older man's cock is pressed to the root inside of that tight, hot grip.

He moves forwards, his lips to Samilen's ear.

"Do you like that?" He asks, one hand slipping to his shoulder, the other firm on his hip. This would not be a gentle and languid love making, no. It would be a rough, quick fuck against a wooden post outside some dive bar. If Samilen wanted to make noise, then he could, it wasn't like he was coming back here any time soon. He uses his hands to pull him firmly onto his cock, letting his head rest against the soft, mussed white hair that carded over the other Miqo'te's shoulder.

As soon as he is snug around him he bucks forwards again, leveraging himself against him as he growls low in his chest. He can feel the ridges of his cock catching against Samilen's rim, and it causes him to moan, shutting his eyes with the pleasure.

" Yessss~ " is the best answer that Samilen can give in the moment, his brain addled with a pleasure unfamiliar enough that most of his brain is occupied with simply letting it wash over him. He's a fool to admit it out loud, but he's also a fool who's being fucked up against the outside of a tavern and he's already crossed that bridge and burned it to ashes behind him. Consequences are little more than a shadow in the back of Samilen's mind.

He squeezes around X'rhun's cock, as if to remind himself of the thick girth settled so deep within his body, if only to keep him inside for but one thin breath longer than normal between each hard, rough thrust. All Samilen can do is press his ass back, feeling the other's nails digging so painfully good into his skin that the marks will take days to fade away.

A few small moans escape the seeker’s lips, sounding far too close to the mewl that spilled from Samilen’s lips just a few moments before. The pleasure is already radiating down to his core, hard to control and harder still to hold restraint.

The hand on Samilen's hip splays downwards, slowly wrapping his calloused fingers around his cock and beginning to pump in tempo with the slow, hard thrusts of his hips. He grunts with the effort, pressing his lover firmly against the pole before him. The tavern behind them is loud and rowdy now, as it is deep into the night and people with nowhere to go are intent on staying in the warm light of the bar for as long as possible.

This probably isn't the first time someone has had a triste just outside the glow of the lanterns, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

It doesn't take long until Samilen is pressed near-flat against the wooden pole, his hands scrabbling for purchase until his claws dig deeper into the wooden surface. The only thing not pressed forward is his hips, instead caught between the grip of X'rhun's hand and his cock sliding deeper within him with every hard thrust forward. There's little to muffle the keepers noises than his lips, bitten between his teeth and doing next to nothing to hide each gasp and low whimper that spills every time the head of X'rhun's cock nudges up against a particular spot inside of Samilen.

So deep , Samilen thinks, hardly coherent enough to speak. The seeker's cock is so deep inside him, as if Samilen was made purely to compliment the shape that leaves him shaking, and there's no high greater than being purely at the mercy of cock-desperate lust.

One of his hands finally move from the pole and down to overlap X'rhun's own, not so much to guide the older miqo'te than simply to feel the tautness of muscles and dexterity of calloused fingers as they slide up and down the shaft of his throbbing prick, urging him ever closer to climax.

X’rhun grunts with each thrust, pressing as deep as he can now. X'rhun's lips nip at Samilen's ear, biting gently at the soft white fur.

"C'mon," He says, losing his usual cadence, all his high speech and pretty words. "I now you're close. I can feel it. Tell me baby..."

He purrs, fisting his cock now. The man beneath him his tight and hot against his cock. There is laughter and life behind them in the tavern but the night air is so much hotter now, so much brighter than any bar could be. He plunges himself in Samilen, quick snaps of his hips threatening to send him over the edge.

Baby.

In all the span of a second, no, but a breath, Samilen feels his entire world snap like twigs underfoot. He feels his body shake against his will, his ears flick uselessly against the nip of X'rhun's teeth, feels his mind turns to a blankness as rapturous white-hot euphoria fills his being. If sweet words are like syrup, Samilen feels sticky and sweet with how the other man's whispers fall upon him, drawing him over the edge and into a haze of babbling words of pleasure he cares not to hide or muffle.

" Fuck yes, y-essss- " Samilen's mewl is a strained whimper, fought only by the sound of his claws dragging down the gnarled wooden pole he's pressed against. " YespleaseX'rhunfuckdaddyohblessthetwelve -"

He feels himself spill over the seeker's fingers, sticky and hot and making a mess at his feet, but he's hardly in the mind to care when everything in the world around him feels just perfect .

The seeker gasps, something just as much unlike him as taking a not-quite-student and fucking them just outside the light of a bustling tavern.

Samilen's words had been a mess, yes, but he was coherent enough to make out quite a few things that he liked. Those thoughts, however, would have to be kept for later as he mind goes stark white. Every memory seems to be erased by the pleasure he feels as he plunges into Samilen one last time, cumming inside his tight hole as he lets out a long groan.

He keeps the man tight against him as he rides out his orgasm, and even he can feel his thick seed threatening to fill the other Miqo'te to the brim. He hisses his pleasure, the hand on Samilen's shoulder squeezing hard enough to leave bruises as the blinding white euphoria threatens to overtake his entire being. Finally, it passes, and he is left panting behind him, wallowing in the afterglow.

The pleasure of orgasm works it's last waves down through their forms, leaving Samilen to shiver when a sudden breeze picks up and licks icily against his skin, sweat accumulated on his brow and the nape of his neck.

He feels exhausted and dirty, legs quaking and body suddenly falling into the gaping emptiness that had long been dug in the haze of sex and need. The afterglow itself is pleasant, numbing the edges of his thoughts enough that he can at least enjoy the few moments of silent intimacy, the warmth and pressure of X'rhun's cock still sitting inside of him.

Samilen lets out a soft groan as he shifts his hips, the movement bringing to mind how full and wet he feels inside and how very, very spent he is; streaks of white paint over X'rhun and his own knuckles and across the wooden floor below.

But most of all, the keeper is left silent, just breathing in the cold desert air, unsure of what, if anything, he can say to break the warm silence between the two of them. He at least squeezes X'rhun's hand in his, cock going soft as even the last tendrils of afterglow too have to fade away.

X'rhun lets himself stay put, if only for a moment.

The heat around his cock feels good compared to the cool night air that now blows across the desert. He shivers both from stimulation and from the breeze that cools his already sweaty skin. After another breath his pulls out and away from Samilen, inspecting his cum coated hand.

Ah, it seemed that his partner had not partaken in this in quite a while, if the potency of the liquid on his hand is anything to go by. He hums, pulling his pants up and tucking himself away, before he looks to Samilen.

"Let's get you cleaned up," He says, gently pulling him from the railing to help tuck him away and make him more presentable.

Samilen helps as best he can, though his brain feels about as sluggish as the thick maple syrup that rolls down the tree trunks of the Black Shroud. It's not perfect, but the two of them together manage to get his clothes back on in a way that doesn't make him look as fucked as he feels, though every little shift of Samilen's hips leave a rolling wetness down his inner thighs which-oh gods--he will have to take care of the moment he's in an inn room or somewhere far more private. It's uncomfortable, but it does keep a flush painted dark over his cheeks, barely able to glance up at the seeker as he keeps the younger tugged close.

Samilen's tail thrashes softly behind him, indication only of his twisting thoughts as reality starts to burn through the pleasure; shame is a quick, vile beast after all.

"You don't-," Samilen starts, unsure what to do with his own hands. "-you don't have to."

"I don't. But I am." He says with a shake of his head, tutting as he tries to set Samilen right. He presses a hand through Samilen's hair, letting it all loose to slide over his shoulders. Unfortunately he'd never been very good at braiding, so Samilen would have to make do.

He helps the other man steady himself, looking the other man over once before nodding to himself. He looked like he might be slightly drunk, which in a way he was. He looks down at his hand, still coated in cum.

Well, there was only one way to get rid of that.

His tongue darts out, licking at the fluid, strangely salty sweet, until it was all gone. Good as new. He then bends quickly, retrieving his gloves and slipping them on. He looks to Samilen, nodding his head towards the bar,

"Let me buy you a drink, it would seem you need it."

Samilen's eyes are drawn to the smoothness of X'rhun's motions, the casual tone of his voice for an encounter he himself would not know how to handle so well. For the fact that the two of them just fucked in practically public view like two desperate teenagers just on the cusp of their adulthood, the seeker acts as if they merely finished the conversation that X'rhun had brought them out to partake in.

Samilen reaches a hand up to his crudely-rebraided hair, feeling touched in the fact that the older man gave even an attempt, and surely it would have to do until he could find a mirror. Just as golden eyes looked back for him to thank the other, Samilen's gaze froze as he saw the last flick of X'rhun's tongue over his cum-splattered knuckles, leaving him at a loss for words for several long, heated moments.

"A drink would be nice," he finally found the words to say, hoping he sounded half as composed. "After uh, something like that. Yes. A drink."

X'rhun gives another nod, moving to place a hand on the small of Samilen's back as he guides him back into the din of the tavern. The patrons don't seem to notice, or possibly don't seem to care about their previous actions. He leads them both to the bar regardless and taps the counter twice, letting the barkeep know that he wants is usual, but twice.

"Do you feel any better?" He asks, leaning to casually against the bar as if he hadn't been balls deep in the man beside him moments prior. He almost felt bad for whomever got the soul stone next. They were most certainly receiving that little tidbit of experience and it would be hard for either of them to explain exactly why.

Samilen took a seat beside X'rhun, mouth open to say something to the barkeep before the other's tapping distracted him--ah, he forgot how often the seeker frequented the bar, enough to have such a short-form gesture. It was on a second thought that the younger man figured it best that he avoided trying to hold conversation elsewhere anyway, considering how little he trusted the sound of his own voice.

"Physically better," the keeper says at last, fingertips tapping lightly on the surface of the bar, his ears falling in momentary caution. "I'm not so certain about emotionally. I mean--why--" His brows knit together as he turns his golden eyes to meet icy blue, face facing X'rhun well enough to see the dark color painted across his cheeks. "Why did you do that? I mean, I'm not--well, complaining at all I'm just--confused. About it."

X'rhun shrugs.

"Is it not another part of your training? To know how your body reacts and how to take care of it?"

He watches as the two ales slid down the slick surface of the bar. Whether it was because of the finish of the wood, or all the spilled drinks, he couldn't tell.

He grabs one, holding it aloft for Samilen to take. "It's just another way of finding balance. And balance is what you need, warrior of light." He smiles to himself. "A balance between self care and working hard. A balance between pain and pleasure. Red magic is much the same."

Samilen feels his brows knit, tension leaking into his expression as he weighs the words--perhaps it's simply his inexperience that colors his perception on the act the two of them had committed, but he is confused how the other man can act so casual about the whole situation.

Still, perhaps it's for the best that he does as the younger of the two has little idea what to say about it, and forgetting the encounter doesn't seem to be much a viable option at this point when he is still shifting in his seat, vaguely aware of wetness leaking from between his thighs that he'll surely have to deal with soon after leaving the tavern.

Samilen takes the offered drink in-hand and brings it gingerly to his lips, sipping once at the bitter liquid before collecting his thoughts up with a breath. If X'rhun can act casually about it, why can't he? Is it no different a challenge than besting primals, after all? Is it no more intimate than the visions he received from Hydaelyn so many times before, just....a little more...intense? Surely he can think of it that way, though it doesn't at all help that the seeker's smile almost makes Samilen's heart flutter just a little bit in his chest.

"If I didn't know any better I'd call this an elaborate ruse bestowed as a cruel joke of fate to press me harder into the studies," Samilen finally says, feeling his body soften with the taste of alcohol on his tongue. "I don't think I've had anyone much consider it that way--they're quicker to worry for my skill in battle than if I'm satisfying physical needs."

"I assume you're speaking of your friends, The Scions?" X’rhun asks, leaning casually against the bar. "But your physical needs are just as important." He hums, looking into his cup to think. "It's as if ... it's as if you have too much white magic in your system. Every once in a while you need to be selfish, to be greedy, if only for a moment." He sends him a small smile, "That way you can be a functioning person." He takes a long drink, the ale is bitter in his mouth but it feels cool as it runs down his gullet.

"I only wish things worked as simply as how you explain red magic," Samilen muses, nursing at his drink for a moment, as if to let the bitter liquid numb away the reminder nipping at his mind. "The Warrior of Light can't afford t'be selfish, and I think that's how they all see me--Not Samilen Jawantal, not a keeper from Limsa Lominsa, just...the Warrior of Light. Infallible, indomitable, incapable of fault or fear."

The bloom of heat in his belly is nice, though it's not a feeling Samilen often allows himself--the warrior can hardly be caught drunk, lest someone's life be on the line and he the only one to save it.

X'rhun's eyes turn sad, he puts a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Take the rest of the night off. Tomorrow too. No warrior of light business for you. Be yourself, if only for a few days." He gives him a small smile. "There is time for selfishness, even if you are a champion of the just. Take those few moments to yourself and come back to me. We'll begin your training then." He leans against the bar once more. "Though I would suggest rest before anything else, our exercises seem to have tired you out."

Though his words bring warmth to Samilen's chest, but they also spark a thread of concern--no, sadness. The prospect of taking time for himself is indeed a nice thing, something he's not had time to do for many moons since taking on the mantle as the Warrior of Light. Though Samilen misses spending time in the Black Shroud and collecting various flora and making money on the occasional task from Fufucha, he...would be a liar to say that his adventures with the Scions did not spark a need that he had long since ignored.

Companionship.

He couldn't simply return and act as if life was the same as before--Samilen fears returning to Gridania as but a botanist or carpenter, if only because people see him as something more, because he can't take the same joy in solace when his body craves for the touch and attention of another person. It's been a curse that he's found bittersweet relief from when his constant missions leave him too busy to think about it.

"...I can...try to do that," he finally says, a cold stone in the pit of his stomach as he forces a smile to his face. "It will be interesting to take up the axe instead of the bow or sword, I hope my skills haven't faded."

X'rhun smiles, nodding, "Of course, my friend. Take as much time as you need and then return to me. We will begin learning new skills when you've found your balance again." He says, taking another long sip of ale. "But for now I dare say you may need to see an inn room. You look as if you are falling down tired and I would not keep you from the sleep you seem to so desperately need." He himself probably needed it too. Drinking the night away was something he'd only done in his younger years and those were long behind him. Not to mention, sex did tend to take a lot out of a man.

Samilen hums, sipping at the drink in his hands until it is empty and his mind is full of thoughts he would very much not like to ponder on.

"I suppose I'll take my leave then, wouldn't do for someone to find the Warrior of Light passed out at a tavern in the middle of Thanalan." He hesitates for a moment then, after deciding that he'll have to move at some point, makes his leave from the bar itself. He passes X'rhun with a soft smile on his lips, though it's born of bittersweet emotions. "Keep an eye out for me if you happen to pass through the Black Shroud in the next several suns."

It's the closest thing he can bring himself to say that begs for companionship, if only for politeness' sake than anything else.

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