#ffxiv writers

[aetherochemist]

My Aphelion - an Amon, Meteion, and Hermes-centric fic of both reunion and closure

Gen | Teen | 17k+ | multi-chapter (ongoing) All I ever wanted was for Amon and Meteion to have closure. I wanted to create this important conversation that the game never gave us. Please heed the tags before reading. This work substantially explores emotional pain and mental illness.

[mimble-sparklepudding]

In Praise of Prose.

Just a quick appreciation post for all the talented prose writers in the FFXIV Tumblr Community.

Writing prose is hard work, like seriously hard work. Poetry is a walk in the park by comparison - just find a word that sounds vaguely like another couple of words and you're done (or if you're more serious-minded, write a few lines saying why things are a bit like other things, then go and put the kettle on).

I'm very grateful for the support and encouragement I've received from various Tumblr mutuals to try writing more prose, but blimey it's tough to do at all, let alone well.

So thank you to all the highly talented prose writers out there! I am in awe of your creativity and skill. Please keep on writing!

If you're looking for a (by no means exhaustive) list of some excellent FFXIV prose writers then check below the cut.

@miqomischief

@sasslett

@irisopranta

@scholarlostintime

@spotofmummery

@ainyan

@captainkurosolaire

@cadrenebula

@starrysnowdrop

@the-littlest-kojin

@blucifer08

@healersadjust

@furys-mercy

@avettabendrot

@aroseyetbloomedwrites

@loldragoon-ffxiv

@kskellington

@pumpkinmagekupo

@houserosaire

@tallbluelady

@calico-heart

@meepsthemiqo

@plenary-indulgence

@scales-claws-and-thorns

@elfie-kitten

@humblemooncat

@pinxli

@paintedscales

And many more! Apologies if I have neglected to mention your blog, this is not a complete list even of the blogs that I follow, let alone all the amazing one's on Tumblr!

[ivoryminitower]

Creators Club Becoming Event

For the @creators-club Becoming event, I'd like to offer Echoes of Home and its two main characters, Steve and Tsu'na. I'll be linking various chapters of the story in the response.

Echoes of Home is the story of an Earth man who found his way to a world that greatly resembled the setting of the MMO Final Fantasy XIV. There he met a native woman, had adventures with her, married her, and in time found a portal similar to the one that had taken him to Eorzea. The story begins with the happy couple arriving in Oklahoma USA.

Tagline: "Earth is no longer his home. It was never hers."

Fandom Canon Character Reflection: How has your chosen canon character changed over the course of their story, and what version of themselves are they still becoming?

Tsu'na, being a native of Eorzea, has had to adapt to Earth. She has to learn how things are done on Earth, how people behave and expect others to, and how things may work differently from Eorzea. She is learning to change herself to fit, and is letting an Earthling self in.

Steve, however, as a native of Earth, expected everything to be "normal" when coming arriving back there. That was before learning that, among other things, they still had the skills they learned in Eorzea -- magic, melee and others -- and had to think about how that affected the way they interacted with the world. In certain ways, he's letting his inner Eorzean out.

OC Analysis / Reflection: If your character could sum up all of their experience into one piece of advice, what would it be? Why would they pick this piece of advice?

"Nothing is impossible." Steve has impressed this on Tsu'na, even as he also impresses this on himself. They both believe in the principle, in different ways and for different reasons.

Tsu'na comes from the perspective that her Eorzean skills work on Earth as they did in Eorzea, and that this is perfectly natural. Except that she is starting to doubt as a result of her exposure to internet and Earth info sources. Steve has had to tell her to fight this happening: "Don't let Earth knowledge tell you what's impossible…only what's possible."

Steve, on the other hand, has a lot of doubt, courtesy of being an Earth native and not expecting Eorzea skills to work there. His first exposure to them working was Tsu'na going out and gathering resources. Since then, he has made a point of not saying anything is impossible or nonexistent, instead saying, "I haven't observed that" or "I'm not aware of that." He uses his wife as a test subject, which she's not thrilled with but consents to as long as he keeps her informed.

Story Analysis / Reflection: What moments of transformation define your story, and how do they reshape the direction of the narrative or world?

The characters would probably focus on different moments as "transformative," though there's one toward the end of Book 1 that they'd likely agree on.

Tsu'na has issues with existentialism, starting from her first exposure to FFXIV on a computer, which triggered a meltdown for her. seeing the world she came from, and a character that looked remarkably like her, on a machine. This led to her asking herself, "Am I real?", which was somewhat ameliorated later when she finally made herself take a closer look at the game.

Steve's major transition point came much later. For a while he was able to think that he and his wife could build a normal life, even given their Eorzean abilities. That changed the first time they had a hostile encounter which resulted in people dying. To some extent this was a Chekhov issue...they each have a couple dozen weapon classes, and even he realized there would be a first time. Though he worries about the next time...

What If: What if your story paused at the moment of greatest change. Who might your characters become if events unfolded just a little differently?

It's sort of nice to imagine my happy couple evolving into full-time white-collar workers. using their powers to do secret work on the side, possibly even involving spandex. Classic superhero stuff, holding life sacred. Utterly adorable and wholesome.

It wouldn't be hard to see them going in the opposite direction, though. Characters in an MMO typically kill a LOT of people; they arguably have a background resembling mercenaries, who have a different perspective on people and the sanctity of life. They could simply have taken what they wanted or needed by force, relying on their skills and strengths to deal with the consequences.

The story is currently treading a line between these extremes. It's far from over -- what's been posted to Tumblr constitutes Book 1, which I call "Looking for Work". The next book is called "Meeting the Family," and will introduce some of the ramifications of their actions and choices.

[roguelioness]

fables from the field

[written for ffxivwrite2024]

Day 5: Stamp

Rating: G Words: 1101 Pairing: none

Alyzen and her chocobo were currently at an impasse.

She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I didn't leave you behind, Circe, I was taken!”

Circe stamps her foot and ruffles her feathers, letting out an indignant squawk. 

“I’m being serious! I was essentially kidnapped to a different world and I had no means of coming back! If I could have, don't you think I'd have come to see you?”

The chocobo snorts.

“Besides, when have I ever deliberately left you behind?”

Circe squalls and stamps her feet again, first the left, then the right, before leaning in to peck the top of Alyzen’s head – not ungently, but with enough force to be a reprimand.

“Well, yes, there was the time I was in Ishgard, but you know I was a fugitive and in hiding! You can't blame me for that-”

Circe screeches, flapping her wings rapidly.

Alyzen winces. “Yes, I'm well aware that I got another chocobo during my time there but Espoir was a gift, Circe, and you know Haurchefant gave him to me, and I know the two of you are, for all intents and purposes, good friends, so you can't quite blame me for that-”

The chocobos huffs and turns her head away. Alyzen takes a step to the side and has to suck her head to catch the bird's gaze. “Besides, you're the one I travel with all the time, so you can't possibly be jealous- stop that!” she exclaims as she's given another chastising peck. “I’m not lying! Do you want me to bring Tataru over to corroborate my story?”

Circe clucks, tossing her head haughtily. Alyzen exhales. “Nymeia grant me patience. Circe, I did not abandon you, and I certainly did not deliberately leave you behind. There was only one other time that I was away, and that was also not my fault, and you know it!”

The chocobo kicks up a cloud of dust that settles onto Alyzen’s freshly-polished boots. “Rude,” she says, glaring at the bird.

Circe does it again.

“What was that for?!”

The bird snorts in the direction of the dozing griffon, and then nips at Alyzen’s hair.

“Arkadas? You have a problem with Arkadas? She’s the sweetest – ow, Circe, that hurt! – fine, fine, you’re the sweetest bird around-”

Arkadas lazily opens an eye and lets out a disapproving caw.

Alyzen throws her hands up. “I’m sorry Arkadas, it is not my intention to put you down, but someone does not seem particularly inclined to listen to me; mayhaps you will have better luck?”

The griffon shakes her feathers out before returning to her slumber.

“You cannot tell me you’re angry that I befriended Espoir and Arkadas?”

“Some help you are,” she grumbles before turning her attention back to Circe. “I don’t know what you want from me, I’ve already apologized. Several times, might I add. For an offense that I did not even commit!”

The bird clucks.

Circe makes a most disdainful squall and raises a wing in what Alyzen is certain is the avian equivalent of a rude gesture in the direction of the other two birds. Espoir lets out a sad little squawk and shuffles about in his stable, head hanging towards the ground, the very picture of despondency. Arkadas meanwhile merely raises a wing back, the tips of her feathers brushing – somewhat deliberately, it seems like – across Circe’s face.

The chocobo clucks most indignantly, turning to Alyzen as if to say Did you see that behavior? I don’t understand why you keep her around.

“Don’t give me that,” she shakes her head, “You know you started it.”

Circe’s eyes narrow. She stamps her feet several times, fluffing her feathers out and squawking loud enough for Riol to poke his head out of the door. When he sees Alyzen trying frantically to calm the bird down, he grins and shakes his head before heading back into the Rising Stones.

She waves her hands about, trying to touch her chocobo, but the bird won’t let her. “Come now, Circe,” Alyzen coaxes, “you are better than this. There’s no need to throw a tantrum-”

Circe huffs and turns her back on Alyzen.

“Oh, don’t be that way,” she cajoles. “I know you’re upset that you were not around to protect me, but you have to believe me when I say that were it possible for me to have taken you along, I would have. If you do need someone to blame, you should blame G’raha. He was the one who dragged me across the void to the First.”

The chocobo turns her head just enough to give Alyzen a sideways look.

It’s her turn to be indignant “I’m not lying,” she grumbles. “You should be thankful that his spell transported my body in its entirety, or else I’d be sleeping like the others, and I would not be having this conversation with you… which, now that I think about it, does not seem all that bad- Circe that was a joke, I was only joking, ow, stop pecking me!” She rubs the top of her head, which is now quite sore. “I thought you’d be happy to see me, not accuse me of abandoning you!”

Circe gives her head another tap with her beak, albeit far more gently this time.

“Well, I’m glad to know that, because I missed you too.” She takes a cautious step forward, sighing in relief as the chocobo allows it. She hugs the bird, nuzzling her face into the soft down feathers. “You know you’re my best girl, don’t you?”

Circe makes a low, rumbly chirp of agreement, resting the bottom of her beak on Alyzen’s head. From a stall away comes another sad little squawk; Espoir is still upset by whatever it was that Circe had said. Circe replies with a caw that sounds fairly apologetic; Espoir lets out a happy little cheep before he settles down for a nap.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” she asks.

Circe caws agreeably, shaking her feathers out.

Footsteps crunch on the gravel before the warmth of a familiar body is pressed up against her back. “Thought I’d find you here,” Estinien remarks, amusement ripe in his tone. “I see the two of you reached a truce. I’m surprised, I thought you said she’d be furious if you told her you went to Ishgard first-”

Circe lets out a loud, loud, loud shriek, flapping her feathers with enough violence to push both Alyzen and Estinien back.

“By the Twelve, ‘Stin, why did you have to say that? Circe, please, give me just a moment and I can explain-!!”

[sheepwithspecs]

FFXIV Write: Day 1

Prompt: Steer Ship: Arenvald x Fordola Summary: Two friends, swimming in the loch 5 fulms apart bc they're ????

Reminder: FFXIVWrite is all about writing and having fun, so these unedited first drafts might have a few grammar/syntax mistakes. If you're interested in seeing the idea fleshed out into a proper oneshot, be sure to let me know via comment, dm, or in the tags! : ) Also, you do not have to have read "Set with the Sun" to understand the story, but it will make more sense if you have

“C’mon, Fordola! Have you ever known me to steer you wrong?”

“There’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?” Fordola crossed her arms, her eyes firmly locked on the jagged peaks that rimmed the far horizon. Past experience had quickly taught her it was far better to feign interest in something else—anything else—whenever Arenvald adopted his signature pleading expression. The man was easily twice her size, with more muscle by the ponze than most heavyweight fighters; even so, he had the nasty habit of softening his gaze just enough to make her resolve crumble to dust.

“In any case, I’m not about to tip you arsefirst into the loch!” she snapped, shoulders hunching against the weight of his request. “You don’t even know if you can still swim,” she added, arguing just as much with herself as with him. “Besides: if you drown, you won’t be there to admit the whole thing was your idea in the first place. We both know that if something happens to you out here, with no witnesses, I’ll be swinging on the noose by nightfall.”

“You can give me a proper dressing down when we’re both floating around the Aetherial Sea,” Arenvald responded with usual aplomb. “But if that’s the way you’re going to be about it, I’ll just tip myself instead.” Fordola spun on her heel, not entirely willing to call his bluff. True to his word, he’d already managed to pry one boot off his foot and was working on the other.

“But—wait—that—” she sputtered, casting her eyes about in the hopes that perhaps a guard or even a worker from the Saltery would be around to help her talk him out of this latest fool idea. But it was her bad luck that the guards seemed to take a more lax approach whenever Arenvald managed to coax her past the city gates. The general consensus amongst the guards seemed to be that she and Arenvald were the perfect babysitters for one another; as long as she was keeping him out of trouble, she was too busy to run off. His disability had not stopped him from trying to seek out the adventurer’s lifestyle; if anything, it only made him more determined to find the limit of his capabilities by exploring the world around Ala Mhigo… which apparently also meant literally sinking or swimming in the briny waters of Loch Seld.

“Tch!” Sighing, she began to remove her armor; for all his merits, Arenvald was notoriously obstinate. When he set his mind on something, it was nigh impossible to change it; sometimes it was better to just go along with him, for better or worse. It would be better for them both if she was in the water at his side. Her mind had already summoned the horrific image of him slipping below the surface, sinking like a rock before she could dive in after him; even worse was the thought that if he did sink, she might not have the strength to pull him to safety. She shook her head, unwilling to entertain the thought for long; to dwell on something like that was never a good idea.

If he did go under, gods forbid… she would simply have to pull him back up again, no matter the cost.

Hesitating only a moment, she whipped the tunic over her head, leaving her in little more than her chemise and pantalettes. The lack of clothing didn’t bother her, not exactly; she’d seen worse, in both the Garlean and Resistance barracks. It was more the question of if he’d be tempted to look at her, and if she wanted him to look at her, and if either of them would bring attention to it, and… a multitude of other strange, confusing thoughts that were best pondered over when she wasn’t standing beneath the blazing sun.

Clad in his smalls, Arenvald had already wheeled himself into the shallows. He’d clearly picked the spot beforehand for its natural ledge, only a yalm or two of rocky shallows separating dry land from the yawning chasm of the loch. The water lapped around his chair as he studied the drop, clearly wondering how best to enter the water without actually tipping himself over. Before she could so much as move, he shrugged to himself and half-fell, half-dove straight off the ledge and into the deep.

Fordola bit back and gasp, splashing into the water after him and fearing that he would already be lost from sight in the time it took her to reach the ledge. Her fears were, thankfully, unfounded; Arenvald resurfaced with a laugh, shaking back the wet bangs from his face and looking up at her with a broad, toothy grin.

“See?” he crowed, squinting against the sunlight as he paddled in place. “I told you there was nothing to worry about!”

“This chair is going to rust,” she grumbled, ignoring his teasing look as she wheeled it back to dry land. She stacked their clothing on the seat, ensuring the brake was firmly in place; the last thing either of them needed was to be fishing their clothes from the water’s surface. “Your little Scion friends didn’t pay gods-know-what for some fancy new chair just so you can ruin it by soaking in the loch.”

“A little water won’t hurt it.” He rested his elbows on the ledge as he watched her. “Now, are you going to come swimming, or do I have to enjoy this nice, cool water all by myself?”

“Keep talking and see if I don’t leave you floating there.” This earned her another laugh, water rippling as he moved to float on his back. Still, he wasn’t lying; the loch was refreshingly cool, enveloping her limbs in a chilly embrace that directly contrasted the sweltering sun. She couldn’t help but dive beneath the surface, sighing out her relief as the crown of her head instantly cooled.

How long had it been? She couldn’t recall the last time she’d gone swimming for the mere pleasure of it. Casting her mind back, she realized with a jolt that it must have been in this very loch, swimming with Yda all those years ago. Back then, she had been nothing more than a grieving child. Now she was the Butcher, a traitor to both the Empire and her own people. What would the woman say if she could see her now?

Resurfacing, she blinked the stinging salt from her eyes and looked around to find Arenvald still floating, shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand.

“Look.” He pointed to the mountains, already glowing with the first orange streaks of early evening. Fordola couldn’t help but let her lips curve into a smile at the sight; within two bells, it would be her favorite shade of red.

It was strange; despite her position in society, despite the countrymen who spat on her, despite the guards who still didn’t trust her, despite everything: she still loved this land. She loved the sunsets and the sunrises, the mountains dark shadows against the eastern skyline, the wispy clouds hiding the first and last stars, the heavens painted in bold brushstrokes that sparked her curiosity, even after all these years….

“I read once that if the sky looks red at night, there will be a storm the next day… or maybe it’s supposed to be red in the morning? I can’t remember.” She swam up next to him, shivering as a large fish grazed her leg beneath the water. “Either way, it’s beautiful.”  

“Aye…”

“What do you mean, aye? You’re not even looking.” He was staring at her instead, tendrils of blonde hair floating around his skull like an odd halo. The paint was starting to come off in the water, streaks of white like tears across his cheeks.

“Well… maybe I found something more beautiful to look at instead.” A blush rose up her neck, tingling where flushed skin met cool water. Fordola scoffed, splashing him without thinking as her cheeks began to burn in earnest. To her immense relief he took it in stride, sputtering as he wiped at his eyes with both hands. The rest of the paint smeared across his forehead, putting her in mind of an opo-opo.

“Here—” She smoothed the wet hair from his forehead, scrubbing doggedly at his face with her hands until the worst of the paint was gone. It was startling how soft he looked without it, broad cheekbones smoothing into the rest of his face without the stark color to contrast them.

Taking his face in her hands, she pretended to check for any paint she’d missed while studying his features, memorizing as much as she could in the hopes that she might be able to recall it later. Arenvald swallowed nervously, lips quirking in silent confusion, but made no attempt to brush her off. Her thumbs traced his jawline, eyes trailing from the scar on his forehead to the way his tongue darted out to swipe over his lips and then back to his own—questioning, uncertain, hopeful. Droplets clung stubbornly to his lashes, glinting in the reflection of sunlight off the surface of the waves.

“Fordola—” he began, and then her lips were on his and there was nothing more to be said. Salty, wet, a little chapped, but the simple peck sent a queer thrill through her all the same. Heart beating double-time, his hands on her cheek, her shoulder… and then she went facefirst  the rippling waters of the loch.

What in the—?!

Arenvald broke the surface with a choking cough, bent nearly double in the water as he fought to regain his previous buoyancy. Water streamed from his hair as he managed to take in one breath, than another; her lungs burned just from watching him.

“I’m okay,” he managed, waving away her attempts to help. Pushing the bangs from his eyes, he graced her with a smile that was somehow as charming as it was sheepish. “I, erm… I got so distracted that I forgot I needed to swim….”

“That—” For a long moment, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cringe. She managed a sort of grimace, feeling about as mortified as he looked. Thank the gods that no one had been around to see them; she wasn’t sure she could live down that sort of embarrassment. The Butcher, capable of drowning a man just by kissing him… the Resistance guards would have had a field day with this one.

“Listen… just don’t mention this to anyone else, okay?”

“Why would I do that?!” She purposefully turned away, putting some space between them with a firm breaststroke. The sky was brighter now, ablaze with color, the mountains practically shimmering with the last of the day’s heat.

How long have we been out here? she wondered, turning towards the towering stone walls. It wouldn’t be long before someone would be sent out to look for her, if they weren’t already scouring the city streets. She thought briefly of H’sutyo, the thaumaturge that had been her main guard on primal missions. The woman would be furious if she were sent on a mission to capture a runaway conscript and instead found her splashing happily just outside the city gates.  

Is this… it? Was this that elusive hope Yda had begged her to hold on to? The idea that one day she might be free to waste time in idle play, to swim for the enjoyment of it? To kiss a boy and wonder what it meant, to worry over the notion of having a crush on someone—to be allowed to have a crush on someone, rather than being forced to push her own emotions to side time and time again?

Was hope nothing more than the freedom to simply be?

“Hey.” Arenvald swam after her, powerful arms sluicing through the water. “Are you okay?” Are we okay?  

“Aye.” She nodded, gesturing vaguely towards the city. “I was just thinking that they’ll be looking for me soon, at the palace.” A half-truth, but better than nothing.

“Damn, you’re right.” He winced, clearly haven forgotten that between them, only he was free to go as he pleased. “I guess it’s probably time to head back….”

“I guess.” They turned towards the shore, though neither of them made any real effort to swim back.

“Listen—” Arenvald cleared his throat, scratching at his cheek as he managed to look everywhere except at her. “Do you think we might, uh… try again? O-Once we’re back on land, I mean,” he added quickly, everything from his ears to his chest lit up in a dark flush. “Only if you want to, though!”

“Try what again?” He gaped at her in shock, his face relaxing only when she could no longer smother her own teasing smile. “Oh, that. We can try again… but only if you promise to tell that little lordling friend of yours what happened.”

“No! Gods, no! I’d never live it down!”

“That’s my offer.”

“Fordola, please!”

[bunsandstuff]

Hey! I've started writing Wolship posts on AO3. For right now I'm focusing on the main story between Alsene and Artoirel, but I'll be doing Urianger as well soon.

All of my Artoirel content can be found here , and if you check it out, thank you! I had a lot of fun getting back into writing and I hope you enjoy it!

[siblings-of-light]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

I always come back to this beautiful memory from the early days of my relationship with Aymeric when I want to cheer myself up. He used to be so much more shy than he ended up becoming!

-- Dorayaki

[laspocelliere]

Day Four: Reticent

“Cold little thing, isn’t she?”

With the arrogance of youth, Thancred threw himself onto the sofa. Propping his feet languidly up, one arm dangling rakishly across his forehead, he tried to arrange his posture in a way that conveyed that he was exhausted, truly, by these recruits and his weighty responsibility in their gathering.

“Barely says a word, no matter how high I turn on the charm with her.” He flashed an easy smile over towards the desk, but Minfilia wasn’t having any of his roguish antics today. A frown was lurking somewhere around the corners of her mouth, and that small, insistent worry line between her brows had appeared.

“It might be good for you, to have someone immune to your charms,” she said absently, looking over the reports in front of her on this strange Coerthan girl. Out of her line of vision, Thancred started, just barely, at the implication that Minfilia didn’t include herself in that immunity group. 

“She didn’t seem very willing to talk to me either,” the Antecedent continued, the frown on her forehead deepening as she thought over every interaction they’d had thus far with the young sellsword. “I don’t think it’s shyness, either; warm welcomes and willing friendships have always been a solution for that, in my experience. Look at how far Yda has come.”

“I don’t think ‘shy’ is a word I’d use to describe Yda,” Thancred mused, hand dramatically draped across his forehead once more, blotting out the candlelight. “But I concede your point.”

“There must be a way to get to her,” Minfilia continued, tone vaguely reminiscent of when a puzzle was placed before her and she needed only to find the right piece for everything to slot neatly into place.

“That’s your problem,” Thancred replied languidly. “You think everyone is secretly as warm and as accepting as you.” He peeked out from under his arm with one cracked eyelid, but Minfilia still wasn’t looking at him. He adjusted his stance where he lay, trying to get a more picturesque version of himself and flexing his growing shoulders just so. “This one’s a perfect example that that isn’t true. Some people are just frigid, Minfilia, and she’s a perfect example. Getting any warmth or even conversation out of her is going to be like trying to bleed a stone.”

He went back to his pictured version of relaxing, but the tension in Minfilia’s shoulders didn’t ease. It was true that the newest addition to their little band was far from a cheerful type. She was wary and reticent, like a fierce bird of prey who suddenly found herself underground.  Her eyes were unsettling to say the least; dark and unreadable, with a certain sharpness to them that seemed to say that everyone beneath her gaze had been examined, analysed, and found wanting. 

What life could you have been living, Minfilia thought mournfully, for you to have those eyes so young?

The irony of such a thought was completely lost on her. 

“We’re not giving up on her,” she said aloud, straightening her spine purposefully. From his devil-may-care perch, Thancred sighed dramatically. “She has the abilities we need, and the Mothercrystal has clearly brought her to us for a purpose.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Thancred said on a sigh, hauling himself upright and raking his fingers roguishly through his hair in the same practised movement. Minfilia’s gaze landed on him at last, and he grinned his crooked smile. “She’ll bend to my graces sooner or later.”

The expression on the Antecedent’s face was enough to make him dial himself back, but not without a reassuring wink. “Don’t worry though, Minfilia. You’re still my number one girl.”

He strode out the door on a hasty retreat without a backward glance, both of them wondering exactly what sort of expression her face had made at the declaration.