"So when Kizuna arrives, you'll all head to Enterprise and slay the primal Garuda before it can wreak any more havoc-"
-BANG-
"Coming! Sorry! Am I late? I had to find my helmet!"
".... What are you WEARING?"
"Primal protection! Can't get tempered through this helmet, it's certified allagan steel- or so the merchant told me. I can help you guys fight Primals now!"
Anyways remember aaaages ago when I said Tangy wears a helmet to prevent tempering? (she has the echo, she just doesn't think so, don't try this at home)
"You're simply incorrigible, aren't you? Some miscreant rogue, chasing pretty things through the city-"
"Much more than that, Lady Scion."
"I honestly doubt that."
"What is it with you heroes? No point in saving the world if you deny yourself the little sin now and again, hmm?"
"Is that what you are, a sin?"
"I can be whatever you'd like me to be, Yda~"
UPDATE: Shop is live!!!! https://www.etsy.com/shop/NalyGallery
***
Stickers arrived!!
I still want to do more before this mini-con that I'm going to since the turnaround is dummy fast but for now. Kirby Desserts and Scion Stickers! Etsy will be up soon for them too!
Title: A Thousand Embraces
Summary: Actually, it’s about ten very important first hugs, but Rihnkiki will hug the Scions a collective one thousand times if they’d allow her.
Warnings: spoilers for the entirety of ARR, I guess, if that still matters to anyone in 2021.
Notes: This fic was born courtesy of me constantly saying that Inky would be hugging NPCs if she could--particularly the Scions. Note that I left Alphinaud and Alisaie out. Alphinaud is the only one besides Urianger to hold out past the Castrum Centri incident and not give her permission to hug him because he’s, well, Alphinaud, and Rihnkiki didn’t get to know Alisaie until later. But the twins will get their hugs. In another story. Title is still from “1000 Words” from FFX-2. This story is a little less than 6k words, which is longer than my normal shorts, so please be prepared for that.
Yda
Leaving for Ul’dah, for her first real mission as a Scion, was perhaps the first time that Rihnkiki felt her shoulders straining since her the beginning of her practice with a bow. Though she wouldn’t let it stop her, she felt keenly the weight of being a part of something again for the first time since she left home. She had missed it—but she also felt a strange bit of anxiety.
Figuring out what all those feelings meant had taken her the better portion of the afternoon, but she found her answers as she stood on the doorstop of the Waking Sands. She was a part of this group now, but she was still an outsider. Everyone else had years and blood tying them together, but she, Rihnkiki Rihnki, was yet a new face among them, and she was worried about finding her place among people already bound together.
A challenge, yes, but not one that was insurmountable, either. She was sure they would come around, even the more taciturn among the Scions.
“Rihnkiki!” said a bright voice from behind her. Rihnkiki turned, mouth open slightly in surprise, but her expression quickly melted into a smile upon seeing that it was Yda, trailed by Papalymo, running towards her. If anyone in the Scions was reserved, Yda was assuredly the opposite. Rihnkiki had appreciated her enthusiasm from the moment they met, no matter how confusing the encounter.
“Yda! What is it?” she said, giving a short wave to Papalymo as well. He nodded in reply.
Hands on her hips, Yda stopped in front of her. “Oh, nothing, just—I know you’ve proven yourself plenty, or you wouldn’t be here, of course. But things in Ul’dah are really moving right now, and—” Her face scrunched up, visible even with her mask in place, as she seemed to struggle for words for a second. “Oooooh, I just…”
Rihnkiki closed her eyes as her smile grew, feeling touched that Yda was so concerned for her. But before she could even start to say, I’ll be alright, the air was crushed out of her lungs as Yda swept down to one knee and wrapped her arms tight around Rihnkiki’s shoulders.
“Yda!” chastised Papalymo. “You can’t just—just—embrace people whenever you feel like it, especially someone you don’t—”
And then Rihnkiki realized that in her surprise, she hadn’t actually returned the hug. Quickly, with equal intensity, she folded her arms around Yda, squishing one of her cheeks against the woman’s shoulder. “It’s alright,” she said. “And I will be alright. But thank you, Yda, very much.”
“You just make sure you and Thancred come back soon,” Yda said as she pulled back. “Now that we’re all on the same page, we simply have to spend more time together!”
(Rihnkiki held onto that promise, even as things figuratively and literally began to burn around her.)
Tataru
For all her usual grace and admirable skill at balancing too many books and papers, somehow, whatever Tataru was working on ended up on the floor as she stood up like a whirlwind. Rihnkiki gasped and ran to her side, hands going to Tataru’s shoulders as she almost stumbled.
“Oh, careful! Are you alright?” she asked (taking care to move her feet from a paper on the ground, already feeling a little bad about the fact that it now had a slight smear of dirt from her boots).
“I— Why, Miss Rihnkiki, it’s you we were all worried about!” Tataru responded, eyes beginning to shimmer. “When we heard what happened, I— Oh, goodness, I was so afraid for you! What a terrible first mission! If only we’d known…”
Rihnkiki wouldn’t deny that it had been a struggle, perhaps even a trying series of events. So much had happened so quickly, and so much of it seemed driven by cruel self-interest—only for her disappointment over that to be replaced by pity almost as quickly, realizing that perhaps those who had seemed uncaring were not truly themselves…
So many had been hurt. She had been in terrible danger. And Thancred was blaming himself for all of it, even though the responsibility had been equal between them, even though so much of it was out of their hands.
But in the end, it was alright. They all were. And when Rihnkiki saw Tataru’s hands fluttering around her, skittish as baby birds and unable to land, she couldn’t help laughing despite it all.
Tataru looked back at her, betrayed, as if she thought Rihnkiki was laughing at her, which simply wouldn’t do. “We made it just fine,” she said. “But I do appreciate your concern, truly, Tataru. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Tataru answered, almost on reflex. But something still felt a little bit stilted, or like the moment itself was waiting.
“Would you mind—No, I mean, would you like a hug, Tataru?” Rihnkiki asked. She kept her hands on Tataru’s shoulders carefully still, not meaning to pressure her one way or the other, for just as though she found hugs to be a great comfort, she knew quite well that some people preferred less physical reassurance.
Tataru’s mouth opened once, then closed, then opened once more. “Yes,” she said, a little softer. “Yes, I believe I would!”
Rihnkiki obliged, giving the slightly shorter lalafell the biggest, warmest hug she could manage. Tataru sighed as her arms came up to hold Rihnkiki in return, ever careful and conscientious of disturbing the bow still strapped to Rihnkiki’s back. “My friends call me Inky, you know,” Rihnkiki said cheerfully as her chin hooked over Tataru’s shoulder. “You’re quite welcome to, if you want!”
“I am very,” Tataru answered, “very glad you’re alive, Inky.”
Thancred
The idea of joining a Grand Company was…well, grand. Huge on a scale Rihnkiki certainly hadn’t anticipated when she came to Eorzea, but then again, she hadn’t expected much of this—not to connect with Hydaelyn Herself, not to become some kind of Crystal bearer, not to join this fight against creatures she knew would have been thought of as gods back home. But, she supposed, it was better this, to do something important for and with people she cared about, than to be wandering lost and still trying to find a purpose and a place.
She would find a way to make this decision, of course, but she needed to quiet her mind first. She must needs focus on what was important and not overthink it, attend the remaining remembrance ceremonies with a clear head.
The Waking Sands was bustling as always as Rihnkiki popped in, seeking out some company while she waited for the day of the next ceremony. But amidst the usual hum of chatter and purposeful rushing to and from missions, she noticed Thancred, all the more obvious for standing still with two walls at his back.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, tipping her head to the side as she searched his face. He’d noticed her approach, but until she spoke, his eyes still seemed distant, distracted, like he was watching something play out that wasn’t really there. Maybe he was scheming, she thought.
Thancred laughed. Or, almost—it was only a single chuckle, and though Rihnkiki thought it sounded bright, it was nothing like the way she’d heard him laugh before. Perhaps she simply didn’t know him that well, yet? “Quite,” he said, slyly quirking his lips. “Simply pondering where I might find those bigger knives we spoke of last. I do need to keep up with you, after all.”
Rihnkiki wasn’t sure, but the words sounded a little bitter on his tongue, and something about them made her stomach twist, even though there wasn’t really anything odd about them. “Thancred,” she said gently, and seeing the way he tensed up, pressing his shoulder blades back against the wall, Rihnkiki felt she might have hit the mark. “You know I don’t blame you, right?”
“You’re too kind, milady,” Thancred answered. Rihnkiki pouted at him. “If we’re truly to combat the threats to Eorzea, I must needs keep up.”
“You are,” Rihnkiki answered, stepping closer even as it meant she had to tip her head far back to hold his gaze. “Keeping up, I mean, and more.” As she drew up next to him, she slowly brought her arms up, trying to telegraph that she wanted to hug him and giving him ample time to move away. He didn’t, and Rihnkiki embraced him. Or, tried to—the height difference meant she was mostly holding his legs, head resting against one thigh (and realizing she could feel a concealed knife strapped to the outside of his leg, which shook her shoulders with a silent laugh).
Even despite the awkwardness, Thancred dropped a hand to her shoulder, thumb rubbing back and forth over her tunic as he slowly relaxed. Not entirely, it seemed, but a little.
Finally, Rihnkiki stepped back so that she could speak to him again without having to direct her words at his stomach. “Do be kind to yourself, Thancred. Even while you’re shopping for knives!”
His laugh sounded perfectly real as she skipped off.
Minfilia
Rihnkiki had suspected for some time that, despite Minfilia’s insistence that the Scions rest as often as possible between their duties, she might not be taking her own advice, not to the extent that she ought to. Mayhap it was presumptuous of Rihnkiki to say so, but she was rarely anything but honest, and it honestly seemed that the difficult position of being the Antecedent of the Scions and yet the youngest among them was binding Minfilia so tightly that a lesser woman would struggle to breathe.
Rihnkiki thought that Minfilia just hadn’t been able to take a deep breath in so long that this seemed natural. That was the thought that hurt like a bruise under her chest.
So, yes, Titan had become a problem, and, yes, Minfilia wished she would hurry to Y’shtola’s side in La Noscea to deal with it—but Rihnkiki had made the decision that this was most pressing.
She could see Minfilia’s surprise as she entered the solar, and the way that the hyuran woman immediately stood, face pinched in a frown as if something must be wrong, sent a little wave of cold through Rihnkiki. “Nothing’s the matter!” she said quickly, waving her hands in front of her, and Minfilia paused, halfway around the desk already. “Don’t worry. It’s just that…well, you did bid me provision well for the journey, and there’s a matter I might take care of before leaving. To set my mind at ease, I mean.”
“I see,” Minfilia said, clenched hand relaxing and coming to rest on the wood beside her. “Is there aught I might assist you with, then?”
Which was how, with some careful teasing, Rihnkiki had convinced Minfilia to join her in one of Thanalan’s comparatively verdant areas for a walk as she surveyed trees for elemental shards. Though, really, she wasn’t trying very hard. Most of her effort went towards pointing out things like where certain animals had lived or which flowers she liked most.
“You know,” she said, stopping as they crouched by a weak stream, “there’s a saffron plant near Little Ala Mhigo with some gorgeous flowers. Mayhap we could gather some for the solar once this Titan business is done.”
“Mayhap we could,” Minfilia answered, brushing some sand from her hands and gazing about the scenery. “…Rihnkiki,” she said eventually, an edge of knowing creeping into her voice.
“Call me Inky,” came the answer, not for the first time since they’d met.
Minfilia hesitated, but eventually proceeded. “Inky,” she said, voice not quite firm around the nickname, “you didn’t bring me here because you needed my help.”
“No, I didn’t,” Rihnkiki agreed. A moment filled with the gentle laughter of the water passed, and she elaborated. “Simply put, I understand how important it is not just to rest idly on occasion, but to get away. I’d know—you’re not alone feeling like an outsider…and being asked to lead anyway.”
Minfilia’s throat caught around a little exhale her thoughts almost visibly stumbled. “I had not considered that,” she admitted with a soft hum. “’Tis true that we have it in common.”
Rihnkiki answered with a little smile and a nod before turning towards a nearby cactus to search for shards again.
“Fufucha says these are going to bloom with huge, crimson flowers in a few weeks,” she said, excitement bubbling through her voice. “I imagine you’ve grown used to them, but I’m yet looking forward to seeing them for the first time.”
“They’re beautiful,” Minfilia confirmed, kneeling beside her to watch her work, ever-observant eyes taking in all she could. “And resilient, to have survived the Calamity unscathed.” Minfilia reached out and placed a hand on Rihnkiki’s shoulder, a little tentative, but hopeful, if the smile on her face was anything to go by. Rihnkiki smiled back, placing her hatchet down with one hand and returning the gesture with the other. She wasn’t sure which of them moved first, but it was the easiest thing in the world to push herself up on her tip-toes and give Minfilia a hug.
As far as she was concerned, this counted as provisioning. A full heart was key if she was going to stop another primal.
Cid
Truthfully, Rihnkiki had thought since her very first meeting with Marques that the man looked like he really just needed a good hug. She didn’t know, at the time, what he had seen in the war or the Calamity that followed, only that it hung over him like a raincloud, and that she wished somehow to ease that burden.
The truth was deeply more complicated, but Rihnkiki’s assessment that a hug was very much required remained completely unchanged. Realizing that a piece of himself had truly been missing seemed to have helped Cid find his resolve originally, but the closer they drew to the ruined vigil in search of the Enterprise, the more withdrawn and restless Cid seemed to become.
Which was why, despite Alphinaud’s displeasure at making camp early, Rihnkiki insisted on it. They weren’t to arrive at their destination until the next day regardless, and this really just meant they could get an earlier start. As the other adventurers she’d begged for aid and Alphinaud settled about the fires of their camp, making preparations for the night and what was to follow, Rihnkiki forwent setting up her own tent and bedroll to drop onto a log beside Cid.
“Are you alright?” she asked. Cid started, and Rihnkiki covered her mouth as she let slip a soft, Oop! But that he’d completely missed her approach only made her more certain he could use a friend.
“I…” Cid began, then faltered.
“It’s quite alright if you’re not, you know,” Rihnkiki added. I’m not. I will be, but not now.
Cid sighed, his breath hanging heavy and white in front of his face before another gust kicked up and scattered the mist. At least there was no blizzard tonight—Rihnkiki hoped the weather would hold. She watched as Cid picked up one of his hands, moving it slowly as if it were a tool he was yet learning. His fingers curled into his palm, then stretched, once, twice, and once more, before Cid dropped his head slightly.
“I suppose I’m a bit…lost,” he confessed. “I know bloody well this is where I’m meant to be heading. Everything else Alphinaud has said about me—my name, that I’m an engineer, that we were comrades—it all feels right, and yet…”
Rihnkiki reached over to put a hand on his leg, waiting for him to find the words.
“…The closer I come to finding answers, the more afraid I am, Rihnkiki.” His words were little more than the hum of the wind through the trees, and Rihnkiki strained to hear them, but her heart felt them like a physical blow. “The person I was and the person I am… How different are they? What if I can’t reconcile my past with this present? What if I can’t ever remember—or what if I do remember, but I can’t be that person?”
The more he spoke, the more Cid seemed to curl into himself, and finally, Rihnkiki had enough. She pushed against his hip, startling him enough to sit up properly, and Rihnkiki took immediate advantage to burrow herself against his side. Despite the fact that he was not cold against her through the layers of his coat, she could feel him shaking faintly and held tighter for it.
“Don’t worry,” she murmured, closing her eyes. “If this doesn’t work, then between you and me and Alphinaud, we’ll figure something else out. And no matter what happens, we won’t leave you, Cid.”
Rihnkiki could only imagine that whatever Alphinaud wanted Cid to remember might be painful—why else would he have waited so long to seek him out?—but she could also see the clear respect between them, even now.
A few beats passed, and Rihnkiki opened her eyes, glancing up just to make sure that Cid wasn’t bothered by the sudden hug. She found him staring down at her, eyes shimmering in the firelight. And as she smiled up at him, one of his arms finally settled around her back and shoulders, keeping both of them huddled together next to the fire. The expression that settled on his face wasn’t quite a happy smile, but it was something close.
“Thank you, Inky,” he said.
“Oh, pray don’t thank me for telling the truth,” she said, resting her head against his side again. “What else are friends for?”
Y’shtola
Rihnkiki had thought, perhaps quite naively, that after almost throwing herself into Yda’s arms when they found her alive and very much un-captured in the Waking Sands, she wouldn’t feel the overwhelming relief as strongly the second time. She and Yda had held tight until their arms, despite all of their respective training, began to strain from the effort.
Yda had told her, told them all, that Y’shtola was alive, and so Rihnkiki thought that she had already weathered the most consuming wave of her emotions.
She was quite wrong. Seeing Y’shtola walk through the doors of the dark, sleepy solar filled her with an urge to hold the miqo’te, one as fierce as what she had felt seeing Yda again for the first time in weeks. As always, Y’shtola herself was reserved, calm even in her own joy at the reunion, and Rihnkiki managed to sit there, nod when she was greeted, and listen to the others start to form a plan to storm an imperial stronghold while very much not throwing herself into embracing anyone.
The Waking Sands remained dark with no one bothering to tend the sconces, but hope burned bright in Rihnkiki’s chest now that they had a plan—or at least a goal, even if the steps to get there were still a little blurry. She jumped up to sit on the edge of Minfilia’s desk, swinging her legs as if that would shake the restless energy in her body free. She contributed to the plans wherever she could, but still, when it all was done and people began to scatter, Rihnkiki tapped Y’shtola on the arm to hold her back.
“Yes?” Y’shtola asked.
Rihnkiki beamed, then sighed. There was something she wanted to say, but how to say it escaped her. Y’shtola was ever patient, however.
“I have so much to say, really,” Rihnkiki finally offered, knowing that she just needed to start speaking, and the feelings would flow so long as she was honest, even if not eloquent. “Pray forgive me if I don’t make much sense, but I’m just so glad you’re alright. I—I should have known for sure you would have been alright, since we parted so soon before they…the attack. I wanted to believe it, of course, since I’ve the utmost faith in your strength, but…”
“You saw something of it, didn’t you?” Y’shtola asked, eyebrows rising ever so slightly as she glanced around the room meaningfully.
Rihnkiki nodded. “Minfilia surrendered. To protect everyone.” She bit softly on her own tongue and looked away for a second before continuing, “It…didn’t matter. And even though I wanted to believe you and Yda and Thancred were okay because you’re strong, strength won’t really help with that, huh?”
“What a terrible thing to bear alone,” Y’shtola said, eyes lowering as if weighed down by Rihnkiki’s pain.
Rihnkiki herself felt lighter for the empathy. “I wasn’t alone,” she said. “But I’m still glad to be less so now.” Y’shtola smiled at her, tail swishing with faint satisfaction. “Y’shtola, may I hug you?”
Y’shtola’s eyes widened in surprise, but only for a moment. “I…would like that,” she admitted.
Rihnkiki scooted forward on the desk until she was just barely balanced on its edge, and she wrapped her arms around Y’shtola’s middle. She was careful to avoid her tail, but besides that consideration, the hug was ever as fierce as Yda’s. Y’shtola returned the embrace with equal strength, hands curling tight in the layers of Rihnkiki’s blouse. There they stayed, until the sound of their breaths and their quiet joy seemed to light the solar again.
Wedge
It had taken hours—hours of worry and effort and chapped lips because playing her flute nigh-continuously in a place as cold as Coerthas was something Rihnkiki would assuredly regret once she was warm again.
It had taken hours, and she had nearly despaired when the snow had begun falling again, but she held out hope because the tracks had been getting closer and closer together before they were covered, and despite the absence of any sheltering structures…she spotted the bridge. Though her lungs burned from working about cold air for so long, Rihnkiki picked up her pace once more, almost sliding down the rocky bank of what must once have been a river. This wouldn’t hide a hyur, or even a small au ra, but a lalafell could have found a way.
She found her feet just at the same time that she heard someone call out sharply to her left. “P-Please don't eat me! I'm not nearly as succulent as I look! It's all skin and bones underneath, I swear!”
Rihnkiki let out a bright, breathless laugh as she took in the other lalafell, hiding exactly where she might have had she been in his place—curled into the shadows right under where the bridge ended. There was a word for that spot, and she could hear her sister teasing her for forgetting it, but it seemed so unimportant when Wedge was alive and right in front of her.
She cut off his rambling with a tight hug, both because she was so incredibly relieved (the trail had nearly gone cold, literally, and Rihnkiki thanked Hydaelyn in a private prayer because no matter how skilled she was, she could not fight the weather) and because Wedge looked to be freezing.
“Inky!” gasped Wedge, finally falling still in her arms.
A second later, Rihnkiki realized that the gesture might not be welcome. She hadn’t even asked him. “I’m sorry—"
“It’s you!” Wedge continued as if he hadn’t heard her. Before Rihnkiki could pull away, he threw his arms around her shoulders, weight falling into her and carrying them both a step backwards as Rihnkiki nearly slipped on the snowmelt-wet stones. “Thank goodness you're here! It's been...it's been awful!”
“It’s okay now,” Rihnkiki said, using one hand to pat his back even as the other one continued to squeeze him tight. She feared he might shake right out of her arms for how fiercely he was shivering.
She listened as he babbled his fears out into the growing wind, willing her body to share more of what heat she had left, all the while knowing they both needed to get out the cold soon. Still, neither moved until Rihnkiki’s linkpearl resonated in her ear. As nice as the hug was, the idea of reuniting Wedge with his mentor and looking for leads on Biggs (in a warm tower, too) was impossible to argue against.
Biggs
If anyone—particularly obnoxious, dramatic persons in dark robes or intricate armor—again tried to insinuate to Rihnkiki that the world was cruel and unworthy, she knew she would wish to gesture to the scene around her now and ask how they could believe that with such evidence to the contrary. There had been close calls this night, but there had been no more death, no more tragedy. And now, surrounding her and surrounded by warm, sturdy walls, were people she had come to call family.
(Their presence did not diminish the absences still lingering, of course, but Rihnkiki firmly believed that failure to celebrate a victory for want of a grander one was the surest path to self-destruction.)
She had a semi-scorched cloak—the one she had given Alphinaud last they were here, actually, which he had returned to her some time ago, and it had been damaged in the fight ealier—held snug around her shoulders as she sat on a bench by the fire and listened. Her friends were planning and scheming while Cid, Wedge, and Biggs soaked in each other’s company. Their easy smiles warmed her nearly as much as the fire.
She heard them let up a cheer, echoed by Yda despite the fact that she was on the other side of the room. Letting one foot hang off the bench properly now that she was warm enough not to feel compelled to transform into a ball with her makeshift blanket, Rihnkiki felt herself swaying slowly to a rhythm that, for the moment, existed but in her head. It barely had form, but its feeling was purely satisfied.
“Inky!” called Biggs suddenly, waving her over. Rihnkiki hopped to her feet, securing her cape using one of the brooches that normally decorated her tunic as she went and thinking that as soon as her fingers were warm, she ought to mend its tie.
“What is it?” she asked.
“My friend, I cannot say it enough—your efforts this night have done more for us than most could dream of in a lifetime,” Biggs said, and Cid and Wedge nodded from beside him.
Rihnkiki simply smiled and rocked up on the balls of her feet. “You’re welcome,” she said, “but it’s not like most people could dream of going through what we have in the first place, so I’m not sure that’s fair.”
“And good that they can’t!” Wedge added.
“But that hardly precludes us from being grateful for you, Inky,” Cid finished.
“Just c’mere, would you?” asked Biggs, holding an arm out.
Truthfully, Rihnkiki had to jump up to reach him, tall as the roegadyn was, even seated, and so it looked a bit like this in the end: Cid and Biggs sat normally as could be on the stone bench while Wedge stood atop it at a height to throw an arm around each of their necks, while Rihnkiki was lifted until she finally settled, kneeling on Biggs’s legs so that she could be crushed between all three of them.
It should not have worked at all, but Rihnkiki thought there was something to be said for the power of devotion, for she had rarely felt so secure in her life.
Papalymo
Rihnkiki could tell that Papalymo was restless, nervous even beyond their collective desperation to escape the castrum. She caught him drumming his fingers against his staff almost like it was a lifeline as they were running, and not until they were locked in battle with the magitek colossus did she realize the obvious cause.
Papalymo stayed cautiously back from the nexus of battle, much like Rihnkiki usually did (when her job did not involve sprinting around the battlefield searching for power sources, of course). But there was a marked difference in how he and Rihnkiki fought, and that involved how much Papalymo moved. Of course, he had skill enough to avoid the colossus’s targeting lasers when it projected its attacks in such a way. But as Rihnkiki failed to notice until a Garlean soldier was literally holding a knife to Papalymo’s back, he did not seem at all to be in the habit of moving himself away from enemy intention as most spellcasters were wont to do.
Rihnkiki dealt with it by shooting his attacker squarely in the shoulder with a poisoned arrow, and he fell back. And whether from the shock of an arrow so close to his face (Rihnkiki had been too breathless to cry out, in the midst of a song to grant them all power), or whether he was surprised by the cry of pain from over his shoulder, Papalymo jumped.
“Hells—” he gasped, clutching his staff with two hands as he compounded Rihnkiki’s arrow with a fire spell. It struck Rihnkiki as odd, a little dissonant note tangling uncomfortably in the back of her mind as her arrows and spells sang through the battle, that Papalymo seemed so shocked by the idea that someone could approach his back.
Until, of course, she remembered a very simple truth: as long as she had known him, there had always been someone there to watch Papalymo’s back. And Yda was not here right now, nor had Rihnkiki thought to alert her friend that his partner was safe and out of the Empire’s hands (at least, as far as Rihnkiki knew and hoped).
She ran to his side the moment the colossus fell as Minfilia and Urianger worked at opening the next gate, putting a hand gently on his shoulder. He looked at her with his brow knotted so tight that it almost looked comical.
“Yda’s waiting for us outside and she’s alright,” Rihnkiki said in a single breath, offering what she hoped was a reassuring smile despite the rushed tone. “She and Y’shtola, and Cid and Alphinaud—they’re all just outside, causing enough chaos that we don’t have to fight the whole base.”
“Oh,” said Papalymo, face falling slack as he blinked at her. “I—I was wondering.”
“I know I’m not Yda, but would you mind terribly if I gave you a hug?” Rihnkiki asked. She had hugged Tataru and Minfilia when freeing them, but both Papalymo and Urianger had shied away, too eager to leave or mayhap simply disinclined.
“Do we really have time—” Papalymo started to say, glancing over his shoulder to where the others were gathered around the door controls. Wedge let out a whoop, and the massive metal gate groaned as it began to open. With the little huff from Papalymo that somehow said, finally, without words, Rihnkiki was sure the moment had passed. But he turned back to her and said, “Well, alright.”
The words were hesitant, perhaps even standoffish, as Papalymo tended to be whenever he was embarrassed, but Rihnkiki didn’t feel particularly bad about giving him the hug anyway as he did reach for her as much as she did for him.
It was a short, almost business-like affair, if she was honest, like Papalymo wasn’t terribly used to hugging as opposed to being hugged. But they would have time to work on that, Rihnkiki thought. They parted with a good-natured pat on the back that had Rihnkiki laughing to herself all the way outside.
Urianger
Urianger was possibly the least physical person Rihnkiki had met who hadn’t tried to kill her since coming to Eorzea—mayhap even less physical than some of those who had tried to kill her, if she was honest. Even directly in the wake of Rihnkiki’s narrow escape from the Praetorium, after which nearly every other Scion had held or touched her in some way, Urianger had shied away. She liked Urianger well, of course, and she knew he respected her, and they were both quite content with each other, so Rihnkiki was hardly hurt by his aversion to physical contact. She would never force the issue.
And yet, still, as she stood once more in the Waking Sands—
Well, quite simply, something stirred when he looked at her eye-to-eye (goggle-to-eye, if one was to be technical) and said, “The dawn doth brighten the sky, and shineth o'er this nascent age of hope. And though the clouds gather to mute the sun's rising glory, I would walk far with thee under its gentle glow.”
The sentiment was winding, poetic, and very, very soft where it landed in Rihnkiki’s chest. “And I, you,” she answered, folding her hands behind her back and beaming up at him. But she also couldn’t stop herself from at least asking: “Urianger, might I give you a hug?”
He hesitated, lips parting just slightly for a second before he said slowly, “I would not be opposed…”
“You needn’t force yourself for my sake!” Rihnkiki said quickly, shaking her head. “’Tis why I asked, after all.”
“Nay, I… ‘Twould be welcome, from thee,” Urianger answered. Rihnkiki wasn’t entirely sure what it was that made him so ordinarily reticent to accept such affection, but his answer read to her as genuine. She reached beside her and pulled over a chair, hopping up onto it so that when she finally did put her arms around her friend, she felt like she was holding all of him and not simply his legs. Urianger held her as well, though it took a few seconds for his grip to truly assert itself, as if he needed to warm to the contact. But he did, which is what mattered.
“I’m very thankful for you, you know,” she said into his chest.
Urianger cleared his throat, which Rihnkiki felt more than she heard. But she did hear a distinct smile in his voice as he echoed her earlier words, “And I, for thee.”
Off to the side, she heard someone snickering, and Rihnkiki opened her eyes despite her cheek still being pressed to Urianger’s chest. There, she saw Thancred, still seated at the same table and watching them with a wry grin. His eyes dropped very pointedly to the chair on which Rihnkiki stood, and she pursed her lips at him. “Do not think for a second,” she said, very serious, “that I won’t come for you next.”
Thancred pressed a hand dramatically to his chest as Y’shtola, across from him, chuckled. “A deadly threat!” Thancred gasped. “I shall endeavor to be prepared.” Between them on the table, a number of saffron flowers trembled like bells in their little vase.
Rihnkiki smiled beatifically at them. Thancred had at least a few more seconds. Urianger, after all, hadn’t let go of her yet.
