Hey all I tend to forget to be active on tumblr but I figure I should promote that im running a new monthly FFXIV Sapphic shipping event! The first Sunday of every month I’ll post prompts and you can use the hashtag to share your sapphic ships! Read more about it on my linked carrd
Can I interest any of you with one of my rarest of rare pairs, Ysayle/Tiamat?
Anybody? .w.
How about in the flavor of, "Half of Ysayle's visions were right about a past life being in love with a dragon, she just misinterpreted the wrong dragon thanks to visions of Shiva. But now the two finally get to reunite after 3,000 years of vicious torment."
Ysayle's ears twitch, glancing up at the sleepy greetings of Ramora, a yawned "good morning," falling from the other elezen's lurid red lips as the tall duskwight extended a steaming mug of tea in her direction.
Ysayle accepts it. Uttering a quiet, "good morning," in response.
The cold did not bother her as it once did, but that did not mean that she did not still crave warmth. Warmth like the steaming mug of tea in her hand that she gently blew on, and the solid line of warmth that was Ramora pressed close to her side. Truly, the woman exuded heat like a furnace. She was undoubtedly a boon in the cold coerthan climes.
Ysayle could regret now that she had turned down Ramora's offer to share warmth when they were traveling through the frozen highlands. No doubt the warmth she gave off would have warmed Ysayle to her very bones.
The both of them stare out into the quiet beauty of the early morning, sunlight piercing through the fog and reflecting light through the glimmer of dew that made the greenery all the more lush and vibrant.
Ysayle is very aware of the duskwight as she stands still and uncharacteristically quiet by her side. Ramora stood so close, she always did. It seemed the woman had no hesitance or wariness to her at all, no matter that they had been on opposing sides not too long ago. Friend or foe, it did not seem to matter to Ramora.
Their hands brush as they shift with the changing wind, and Ysayle grips her cup all the tighter with the overwhelming urge to reach out and take Ramora's hand in hers. To apologize for being so cold and distant when all the duskwight wanted was to be closer to her.
More regret was how icy she had been in putting walls up between them, in pushing the other woman away whilst demanding space.
Perhaps this was a quiet bit of defiance, Ysayle muses with the barest tug at the corner of her mouth as she gazes at the taller woman's beautiful profile as she is bathed in the first warm rays of the morning light. Ysayle had demanded distance but here Ramora was; still stubbornly at her side. Close enough to reach out and touch, if Ysayle so chooses.
Ysayle takes a swallow of tea that was still too hot, and her fingers twitch as she makes up her mind to reach out. To take Ramora's hand and tangle their fingers together. To draw the taller woman to her and kiss her until that usual smile curled her lips, until she was laughing that low, breathy laugh that made Ysayle's skin prickle with shivers.
She is too late to do so, however, as Ramora draws away at that moment, leaving Ysayle cold as the warmth her presence brought with her was quickly snatched away by a strong gust of chilly morning wind.
Ysayle cups her hands over her tea, finding the warmth lacking now that Ramora had put distance between them.
"Shall we start the day, darling?" Ramora turns back to say, her voice barely above a murmur.
Ysayle's heart squeezes in her breast. No, she wants to say. Come here. Hold my hand in yours, drag me close and kiss me like you did before. She was even wanting for that silly pet name that Ramora had given her. Snowdrop.
Ysayle wondered if Ramora knew what it meant in the language of flowers. New beginnings, hope, rebirth. The ability to overcome challenges.
"Yes," Ysayle says, because they had made a plan, and because she was a coward. Snowdrop, indeed.
She was too afraid to overcome this challenge.
Because Ramora was not supposed to be anything more than a passing amusement, a bit of fancy before she reunited with her one true love.
Ysayle had been the one that wanted to put distance between them. All the better that they were distant, that it was a cleaner break when she needed to end things once and for all. She knew it would only hurt her—that it would hurt the both of them—should she allow Ramora any closer. To indulge her in any illusions that their relationship could go any further than what it was.
Why then did Ysayle yearn for more?
Why did she want Ramora to turn around and push for more? To swagger up to her with that insufferable, aggravating confidence and seduce her just as she had the very first time?
Ysayle turns her face towards the chilly bite of the wind, her heart pounding in her chest just imagining it.
"Enough of this," she tells herself quietly, and tips back the rest of her tea in one long swallow that burns the whole way down.
