A drabble about Adair and Ori and a new adventure.
6.55 MSQ spoilers.
Adair's heart lept at Wuk Lamat's request to come to the Tural. A new adventure in a completely new place, a chance to meet new people, and discover new plants to put in his next book - it was an irrisistable temptation. Plus, her seemingly selfless desire to become the next leader of Tural warmed his heart. Adair is always glad to help a good cause, and her intentions feel sincere.
But, Adair could tell that this adventure will keep him away from home for much longer than his foray into the First, or his journey to the end. His had missed his son terribly while he had been away, and Grandpa Edmont had reported that little Ori would fuss and cry when Adair was gone for too long. Adair couldn't bear to put his son through that again, not for something that isn't a life or death situation.
Wishing to follow his heart, Adair informed Wuk Lamat that if he was to come to Tural, he would likely need to bring his child. She cheerfully assured him that there are plenty of little ones in Tural for Ori to meet and play with, and caregivers to look after him when Adair has duties to attend to.
Reassured, Adair decided it would be best to give Ori a choice. Before their nightly bedtime story, Adair asked Ori what he would like to do.
"Ori, how would you like to go on a real adventure with me?"
The almost-four-year-old's eyes lit up at the idea like he had won the prize of a lifetime, "I get to go?!"
Adair smiles at the awestruck look. "Yes, if you'd like to. This one should be fairly safe."
Ori doesn't wait for Adair to finish before he's chiming in with a chorus of "Yes, yes! I want to go!"
Stifling a laugh at his little adventurer's eagerness, Adair waits for him to calm down and continues, "Okay, now I need you to listen carefully for a moment." Ori diligently nods and sits as still as he's able, "If you do go with me, you won't see your friends from the Firmament or Grandpa Edmont or your uncles for a long time. You can talk with them over my linkpearl, but you'll be too far away to play together. Are you okay with that idea?"
Ori's brow furrows as he considers this. He loves his friends and family, but he was so sad when his daddy was away. After a pause Ori asks, "Daddy and Ori will go 'venturing, then we'll come home when we're done?"
Considering Ori's words carefully, Adair confirms "Yes, but the adventure will be a long time, and you might still have to have a babysitter sometimes. If you want to stay here at home with Grandpa Edmont instead that's okay too, and I'll call you every night just like before."
After a pause while Ori thinks over his father's words, he reasserts "I want to go with Daddy!" and hugs Adair tight. Adair returns his son's hug, and Ori settles into his lap as Adair opens their storybook to a brand new tale. Ori hardly listens to the story, dozing off with thoughts of what amazing new things he'll get to see in Tural at his dad's side.
Grandpa Edmont encouraged Ori to try being a knight, since Ori liked hearing the stories of his father's bravery. Ori gave it a try, always eager to learn new things, especially since it's a way to feel closer to the father he never met. But, it didn't come naturally to Ori like it had Haurchefant. He just isn't a fighter, especially not hand-to-hand combat.
Adair only briefly allowed Edmont to encourage Ori to train with the knights. He saw how stressed this was making his son, and despite Ori's insisting that he wanted to make his Grandpa proud, Adair could tell he was unhappy. After the day he came home chilled to the bone and crying about how Emmanellain had gloated about beating him in a sparring match, that was the end of it.
When Ori was a kid, he went through a phase when he wore hats all the time. Of course Adair noticed, and he asked why the sudden interest in trendsetting. Turns out, another kid had been bullying Ori because of his different appearance, specifically his horns.
Adair did some investigating and found the bully's parents, a noble family who were stuck in their old misguided beliefs regarding dragons and Au Ra. When the WoL showed up on their doorstep they were standoffish and conceited, despite having benefited from the progress he had helped bring to the city, and stood by their beliefs refusing to correct their child's behavior because in their eyes, he was right to say what he said.
Adair was at a loss for what to do, and spoke with Edmont regarding the family. Edmont made it known among the other high houses how this family had been treating the Wol's child (and his own grandson). He discovered that apparently that family had more enemies than friends and were generally disliked, but because they were a wealthy family with long-established business and social connections they had been given a free pass to spout whatever hatefulness they wanted. Soon after hearing how they had treated Ishgard's savior and his child, nobles and the high houses refused to do business with the family. Within a few months the family packed up and moved away, likely to Ul'dah or the rich section of Gridania.
Adair kept as much of this drama as he could away from Ori, and did his best to teach him that his Auri features are natural and beautiful just as much as his Elezen features. He encouraged his friend Sidurgu to come around more, so Ori felt reassured that they weren't alone. Adair took Ori on several outings during this time, to visit any scion friends who were available, to Idyllshire and Anyx Trine, Thavnair and Old Sharlayan. Places he knew his son would be safe and welcome and could see a diverse mix of people. He even brought little Ori to Kugane to meet more Au Ra and experience part of the culture that had had an influence in Adair's own upbringing (despite having grown up physically away from it).
Ori finally stopped wearing his hat during that last trip, and was excited to share what he had learned far away with his family and friends back in Ishgard.
He does opt to wear a hat again later when he embarks on his own little adventure, but it's more because he wants to avoid questions than hide who he is. Eventually, he'll take it off for good (when I finally do enough pvp to unlock the catoblepas horns for him 😅)
Ori's hair is styled the same as Haurchefant's. he chose to do this on purpose! he grew up hearing stories of how great his father was, and looked up to him a lot. so as a way to try and be closer to him, he copied him.
Ori looks up to Adair too, and does emulate him in some ways, but he sees him all the time so isn't as intentional about it.
if it wasn't for Ori, Adair probably would've left ishgard for good after heavenward, only going back when necessary for work or quests.
he experienced the same event as Sidurgu first hand and lost his father to it, then later lost his fiancé there too. lots of bad memories. but Adair wanted his son to grow up near the only family he had left, and he needed the help. he was alone except for the scions. so, he stayed with the Fortemps family until he could make a home of his own nearby.
if not empyreum, he probably would've made a home in the lavender beds, since it's nearest to the botanists guild and full of flowers.
A forger, a fence's guard, a late-night handoff gone wrong-- these two sudden allies don't remotely expect what happens instead.
1500 words, ~20 years pre-Calamity, oc x oc exact opposite of a slow burn. It's Ori's parents' backstory! Here Be Smoochin'.
-
Otan Ketan is having a very bad night.
He was sure there had been something fishy about the last-minute change of rendezvous, but Jannemont had insisted on making the handoff, and of course the old fraud wasn't going to do it himself.
So now here he is, backed down a dark alley at the business end of a blade, with two distinctly unfriendly personages looming over him.
Bit overkill sending an extra, he thinks resentfully. It's not like looming over him is hard.
"Now, what's gonna happen, Professor–" the big Hyur's voice is all self-satisfied scorn– "is you're gonna hand over them scrolls, and maybe my associate here lets you keep an eye." The Miqo'te beside him draws a smaller, but certainly no less sharp, knife.
Otan Ketan clutches the round leather case and swallows hard. "I'm guessing you don't work for Tatashai, then," he says. "He'd never be this messy."
"Messy–?"
Was that movement, in the shadows behind the pair of thugs? "You're a big man," says Otan Ketan, reaching for a bluff. "Noticeable, you might say. Care to bet no one saw you come down this way? What are the odds, do you think?"
"He's stalling," the Miqo'te hisses. "I say we–"
There's a silver flash in the darkness, and the man drops his knife, clutching his suddenly bleeding wrist. "What in hells–" the Hyur starts, and then he folds knees-first onto the cobbled ground. He doesn't get the chance to yell before there's a dagger in his neck.
The mystery assailant turns, a second dagger in hand, but the Miqo'te has vanished already. "Thal's balls," says a surprisingly light voice. "Least he don't have the goods, right?"
She bends and retrieves both blades, her own and the abandoned one. When she stands up again, Otan Ketan finds himself face to slightly higher face with the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.
He wordlessly shows her the leather case for confirmation, still safely in his arms. "Huh," the vision says. "You was all talk a second ago. Ain't concussed, are you?"
She reverses the dagger deftly in her off hand and uses the pommel to tilt his chin up, then back and forth, tracking the movement of his eyes with her own. Hers are flawless jade, the kind of gems he only dreams of recreating, a clear and perfect green even in the scant torchlight. Those eyes belong in a palace somewhere, not the dingy back end of a Horizon alley.
"You're all right," she says, more a command than a question. "Come on."
-
The apartment she takes him to is a second-floor back room, accessed by a precarious ladder, which she pulls up after them. The door on the other side is firmly bolted.
"Not back to Jannemont?" he'd said, when it had become apparent she was leading him in the opposite direction.
"He sent you, right? Can't be sure he ain't in on it," she'd replied. Then she had gestured very clearly for him to hush, and so he'd hushed.
"We can talk here," she says now. "'S my own personal saferoom. Even Tatashai don't know about it."
"Then why…?" Otan Ketan gestures to himself. "I mean, you don't even know me."
The woman plants her hands on her hips. Gods, she's even beautiful when she frowns. "I'm Ririzu," she says. "And you're–?"
"Otan Ketan," he says immediately. He could no more hold back an answer than he could stop breathing.
"There," says Ririzu, "now I know you and you know me. Sit down, Otan Ketan, you look half stunned."
Half stunned, he sits.
The room isn't much, and there isn't much in it. Ririzu rummages around among the sparse furnishings– low table, single stool, sleeping mat rolled up in a corner, a few chests and a lockbox– and comes up with a dusty bottle, half full. The liquor inside is stronger than he's used to and tastes of anise, and he sputters a little swallowing it, but it does help.
"What do we do now?" he says.
She paces, still frowning. "I don't know. Them two alley thugs– I never seen 'em before, and that concerns me some. Have another, it won't kill you."
He does, and he barely coughs at all this time. "Do you always get men drunk after you rescue them from assassins?"
"You're the first," she says, not missing a beat. "It ain't like Jannemont not to double check a rendezvous, either."
"You're right at that," Otan Ketan says. "He's a fool, but he's a cautious fool. And if Tatashai didn't change it, then–"
Ririzu fetches up by the table again. "Something's wrong," she says, thumping its surface, "and I'm taking you nowhere 'til I know what it is."
"You'll get no argument from me," says Otan Ketan. He passes the bottle to her. She takes a stiff belt and passes it back.
"Gods. All this for, what, some phony papers?"
"They're historical records," he says, pride a bit stung, "or, you know, they’re meant to be."
"Daft thing to try to kill a man over. Right– let's see them." And she begins to unfasten the case.
"I'm not sure you're meant to–"
"Oh, let a lady have her fun," she says. "Ain't often I get to inspect the merchandise." The wink she shoots him fills his stomach with a heat that has nothing to do with the liquor.
He's accustomed to waiting patiently while someone else examines his handiwork. He has to be, in this career. A nervous forger is a dead forger. Nevertheless, he watches with his heart racing as Ririzu slides the scrolls carefully from their case and spreads them on the table.
Her bright eyes widen. She gives a low and quite unladylike whistle, and Otan Ketan feels another wash of heat slide into his stomach.
"These are–" she breathes, and then trails off, transfixed.
"Good, I hope?"
"Better than good," she says. "I ain't an expert, but– why in seven hells are you working for an fraud like Jannemont? Hand like this, you ought to be in the cities. Or one of them fancy museums, maybe."
It's so exactly what he'd thought about her that he can't help but laugh. Those jade eyes snap over to him.
"I don't say nothing I don't mean," she insists. "You got a talent, Otan Ketan. You could go anywhere." It isn’t what he meant, but– the way she says it, not flattery, simply a statement of fact, is better than any compliment could be. He opens his mouth to say something in response, although for the life of him he doesn't know what it'll be–
"That's it," Ririzu says suddenly.
He blinks away the surprise of missing the mental step. "What is?"
"We'll leave. Together. Tonight, if you want. You make the goods, I’ll be your guard–"
"But– your job here, and Jannemont–"
"Thal take Jannemont," she interrupts, in a sudden blaze of passion, "and Thal take Tatashai too, they’re gods-damned fools who don't know what they got. They can keep the damn scrolls, split 'em or sell 'em or toss 'em down the gorge– you and me, we could be something."
She ought to sound stark mad, but she doesn't, not at all. In fact he finds he's risen from his seat to meet her– to study her face the way he'd study a painting, to find and capture its every detail. "Gods," he says, "you really mean it."
"I told you, I don't say nothing I don't mean." He has it now, her expression. There's no word for it, but he knows it well– it's the look a person wears when they almost hope and don’t dare. "So, Otan Ketan… what d'you think?"
What does he think? A thousand thoughts fight for space, and the one that emerges first is–
"I think," he says, "you can probably just call me Otan."
The breath she lets out is half laugh, half unlooked-for relief. "Bit familiar, ain't it?"
“Well, you’ve already saved my life and proposed to sweep me off to fortune and glory.” She’s so close, the scant space between them all sparks. “I think– Ririzu– you can be as familiar as you like.”
“Is that so,” she says, and she takes his face between both of her hands and kisses him hard.
He hasn’t had much to compare it to, but he’s sure it’s the best kiss of his life. Her callused hands are warm on his skin, and her mouth is warm and shockingly soft and still tastes of anise, and he reaches his own hands for her and around her, overwhelmingly and delightedly aware of every place her body presses against his.
“Come with me,” she murmurs into his lips.
“Anywhere,” he says, which earns him more kissing, his hips backed into the table and her hand firm in his hair. He’s distantly aware of her other hand starting to undo the fastenings of his shirt.
“Although I think,” says Ririzu, “it can wait ‘til morning.”
Otan Ketan just nods. He’s about to have a very good night.
(copy/paste with some extra bits from my twt circle, very short Ori story)
When Ori was old enough to start understanding that he had a father but he's not alive anymore so he can never meet him, it sparked so much curiosity about who he was!
Adair started telling him stories of their adventures together at bedtime instead of fairy tales, and Ori wanted to know what he looked like, and what it felt like to spend time with him. Adair said "He looked a lot like you, but without the scales or tail. And he was the friendliest person you'd ever meet, always smiling and encouraging others to be their best!" but Ori kept asking, saying he wished he could see him for real.
So Adair thought an outing was in order.
As a first stop, Adair took him to the memorial overlooking Ishgard, and told him how it was his father's favorite spot. Ori could feel the wind cutting through his sweater, but he did like how small the city looked from so far away. He understood the spot must have been special to his parents and felt a reverence for it.
"Is this where father is?" Ori asked, eyeing the tombstone.
Adair hesitated for a moment. "In a way, maybe. This place was his favorite spot to come think. And now, it's where people who loved him come to think about him."
Ori looked down and the flowers next to the stone, absorbing his dad's words.
"If you mean to ask, 'Is he buried here?', no, he's not. His body was laid to rest in the Fortemps family mausoleum." Ori looked up at Adair quizzically. "But I like to think," Adair continued, "your father lives on in the hearts of the people who loved him. The soldiers you'll meet today, Grandpa Edmont and your uncles, the Haillenarte siblings... and you and me." Adair looked down at Ori's awestruck face with a kind smile.
Ori thought about this for a long moment, holding onto his dad's tail when a particularly strong gust of wind nearly had him lose his balance.
Adair barely caught Ori's small words over the wind "...but I still want to meet him."
He knelt down, pulling his son into a proper hug. "You can't meet him face to face," he said, looking into Ori's now teary eyes. "But you can get to know him by spending time with people who loved him. Ask questions about him, many would be happy to tell you stories." Ori beamed at that idea, sniffling his tears away.
So Adair took Ori to visit Camp Dragonhead and pointed out the portrait hanging there. He encouraged him to talk to the soldiers, many of who still remembered Haurchefant as if he was just there yesterday. Ori was excited to meet so many people who remembered Haurchefant as a friend! The soldiers perked up at having a chance to talk and play with Haurchefant's child as well, and the chilly stone hall radiated a lighthearted warmth.
In the coming months, Ori kept asking to go visit his dad's picture every day. Adair or Edmont or sometimes Emmanellain would take him whenever they could. He'd have a nice time making friends with the soldiers there and eventually became like a little mascot for them.
Then one harsh winter Ori caught a terrible cold and couldn't go visit his father's picture and friends at Camp Dragonhead for quite a while.
As a friend of Adair's from Scion business, Alphinaud had heard of how much Ori loved to visit his father, and he sketched Ori a picture of Haurchefant that he could keep in his room while he was recovering. The soldiers from Camp Dragonhead sent him little gifts too, wishing him well.
When he was well enough to come visit again, the soldiers hosted a big dinner just like Haurchefant loved to have, full of music and warm drinks and laughter. Ori had a blast! And Adair felt like Haurchefant was right there beside him, sharing in their son's joy, and Adair's.
-
(idk enough about kids to know how old ori should be here. do kids understand death and people existing before they were born by 3 years old? or is that a more difficult concept? I'm kinda imagining him at about 5 or 6 here, old enough to be curious about the world and people..? as of post endwalker he's just turned 3, so this is quite a while after that probably. he's been to camp Dragonhead before, but was always too enchanted by the chocobos to learn much about the people around him.)
