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6. Yarzon - What the oddest thing you find cute? Why? - For Zedyr!

Prompt 17: Fade

Who: Rhetzedyr Guldarensyn and his parents, Guldaren Haldwintsyn and Eyriwaent Loetreldwyn (NPCs)

What: A very young Zedyr dances with his parents.

When: 30 years ago, or so? Zedyr was maybe six years old here.

Where: The family farmstead out past Halfstone, Western La Noscea

Content notes: I mean, this is pure fluff, really. Married couple being cute?

"Aren!" Muffled laughter followed the gasp from the other room -- his father's soft chuckle braided with his mother's brighter one.

Rubbing his eyes, Zedyr slipped out of his bed and peeked around the door frame into the kitchen.

His mother and father were dancing in the faint pre-dawn glow -- ma still in her nightgown, da with his shirt half-buttoned as he led her around the table.

His father went up onto his toes to kiss her cheek, singing softly in time with their steps:

"When a whole lot of long winters are showin’ in your face Your auburn hair has faded and silver takes its place, You'll be just as lovely - and I'll still be around And if I can I know that I'd still love to lay--"

Then he caught sight of Zedyr standing in the hall and cut off with a soft laugh. His mother shot Aren a look that was unmistakably I told you so, but she was smiling in spite of herself.

"C'mere, sleepyhead,” his father beckoned, “come dance with your ma and me."

Zedyr ran to them and let his father scoop him up in one arm, his mother steadying him. The three of them swayed back into the rhythm, and Zedyr soon found himself drifting back to sleep on his father's soft shoulder.

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I honestly couldn’t think of an “odd” thing that Zedyr finds cute. His parents were very affectionate with each other, though, and never particularly hid their attraction to each other. Unlike some children, he was never discomfited by this.

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Written, as you might have guessed, to Conway Twitty’s “I’d Love to Lay You Down” (lyrics).

Picture credit: https://pxhere.com/en/photo/1258

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite2020 #ffxiv rp #balmung #balmung rp #crystal rp #meme #answers #creatures of eorzea #zedyr #I accidentally made myself cry with those lyrics #for backstory reasons #but the scene itself is cute!#:')#thanks for the ask!#superbilliam #ren writing

Aldgoat - What tradition, either ancestral or personal do you adhere to no matter what? /random

Prompt 9: Lush

Who: Mamaati Maati, Amosis (mentioned)

What: The garden, a habit.

Where: Amosis’ home, the Goblet.

When: Very recently.

Content notes: Implied sleeping together, literally? And perhaps a little too much symbolism....

Maati slipped off her sandals at the edge of the stairs, descending with them in hand. Before she pushed open the door at the bottom, she closed her eyes. She had learned to make her way across the dark room by the feel of the flooring beneath her feet, by the wind currents in the vast chamber, triangulating her path by the quiet hum of machinery.

The door at the far end opened at her touch, then closed behind her, the scent of greenery and loam rising through the stairwell. She kept her shoes off and, clutching her petticoat, continued down with quickened steps, her gaze trained forward.

Reaching the lowest level, she emerged into the garden.

A few steps past the threshold, she stilled. Her bare feet sank into the soft, fine-bladed grass, eager steps arrested by the riot of color, of scent -- the pure profusion of life, cultivated with no handbook but its own will. It grew freely here, unstunted by want, by need, by the necessities of survival. In this space, every requirement was provided for, and so variety bloomed: the garden wore its strange costumes, bore its unusual fruit, away from the voracious gaze of those who would have demanded satisfaction and thereby stripped it bare.

The space was perfectly constructed, perfectly contained -- and within that, perfectly wild.

Maati took a deep breath and moved with sure steps into the garden's heart, sinking to the ground in the middle of the meadow. Overhead, the panels that lined the ceiling were beginning to awaken in a rosy-fingered artificial dawn.

So she had found herself for the past sennight, maybe more: awakening early in the half-dark of Amosis' quarters to the watchful glow of monitors and slow-blinking lights -- to his arm close about her waist and his nose in her hair. And then, gently extracting herself, padding down through voluntary darkness -- knowing that soon he would follow, would find her here, in the depths of his creation.

It was a pattern by now. A habit. Irritation flared, then fizzled under the cool breeze from the vents. Maati picked a blade of grass from the sleeve of her chemise and smiled in spite of the answering twinge in her shoulder. She was forever finding them -- plucking bits of shed greenery from her hair, her clothes. They clung to her, rode with her back to her daily mundanities, reminding her of -- of this: the quiet, unfettered space whose fruits had been freely offered to her, and which she now sought without hesitation.

Her heart sped as she heard a familiar tread on the stairs, and she looked up toward the doorway, knowing who she would find there.

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This one was a stretch for the prompt, in part because the actual answer is not very interesting: for the most part, Maati eschews tradition as a matter of course and dislikes the idea of falling into habitual patterns without a conscious decision to establish them. She finds herself doing so anyway, of course....

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Written with “Falcon Settles Me” by Rogue Wave (lyrics) on loop -- whence the ship tag for these two, as well.

Opo-opo - How active were you as a child, and did you ever break anything while playing (object or part of yourself!)? for danyell

Prompt 27: Extra Credit

Who: Danyell Dwynwen, his sister Danicka, and their mother

What: An ill-fated biscuit jar.

When: When Danyell was about ten, and Danicka was 12 (about five years pre-Calamity)

Where: The Dwynwen homestead, central Coerthas Highlands

Content notes: Food, broken crockery, sibling shenanigans

"Don't you try to charm me, sweet pea." His mother was trying her best not to laugh. "You'll be pulling weeds for a moon to pay your sister back." Danicka, meanwhile, was laughing so hard she was leaning on her broom, red-faced and starting to cough.

"But mam!" Danyell said with a grin undimmed by the crumbs decorating his cheeks, "Aren't sweets for eating?" He glanced at his sister, who gave him an encouraging wink.

"Yes,” his mother said, “which is why we put them out of reach of little monkey-fingers, so there are some for the rest of us to eat!"

----

Danyell was a moderately-active child, and while he was usually careful enough, there was the occasional mishap -- usually when he and Danicka ended up scheming together. Danyell was younger -- and smaller -- and so he was usually the one pressed into service climbing up on top of things... He’s very lucky he never broke anything besides a few pieces of crockery.

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Written with “Glencoe to Gort” by Eamonn Coyne and Kris Drever (instrumental) in mind, though this was composed on my phone in a clinic waiting room....

Photo credit: whimsical-lazy-cookies-monster by unknown photographer on PickPik.com