maellicia dessendre's fun expedition vacation (Sicktember 2025) by deepestfathoms: series, Maelle/Alicia whump fics (93k, complete)
maellicia and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad life (Whumptober 2025) by deepestfathoms: series, Maelle/Alicia whump fics (75k, complete)
A Life to Find by calicotales: rewrite where pVerso and pClea swap places (70k, almost complete)
gods and men by rhibbet: already mentioned in part 1 but it's my favourite coe33 fic so here it is again (133k)
Children of the Canvas by vailkagami: pAlicia saves Gustave and they try to catch up with the others with some unexpected companions (78k)
Those who lived...and he who died by YuiUltima: series, set post verso ending, Alicia&Clea centric (27k)
Any direction you go, you will be walking toward the dawn by headofporridge: rewrite that starts with Sciel and pAlicia teaming up, sadly got abandoned pretty early on though I really love it (36k)
Danse Macabre by 1000_Obsessions: 6 times Alicia Paints and one time she Writes, also check out the other work in the series (31k, complete)
Âme-sœurs by Irisen: verstave, soulmate au, interesting worldbuilding, watch verso fail at having a normal human interaction for 30+ chapters (232k)
More recs under the cut:
Clair Obscur: Broken Canvas by RemyHadley: post verso ending, alicia/fem oc (200k)
Come Cut Out My Heart by Sky_kiss: Slay the Princess au with Renoir and Aline (7k, complete)
Cœur á Cœur by Sleeping_Quill: Maelle/pAlicia as an allegory for learning to love yourself, still pretty new (19k)
Fractured, yet Predictable by ArtingDreamers: Slay the Princess au with Clea (10k, complete)
A slave to my fate (ever doomed to repeat this) by Laterose13: Slay the Princess au with everyone (16k, complete)
The Price of Vengeance by ArtingDreamers: pAlicia and Expedition 56 (12k, complete)
Out of the dark by Yrilla: pVerso gets locked away by Clea for 67 years (19k)
Écrire pour exister by Fry_Teck: post verso ending, this made me cry so hard but in a really good way (2k, complete)
a letter to alicia by ladywrites: post verso ending, Alicia-centric (complete, 5k)
Glasses by Ffsuah: post verso ending, Alicia-centric, shameless self rec (5k, complete)
Une Cadeau d'une Mère by Sky_kiss: post verso ending, Aline&Alicia (3k, complete)
(or anything by Sky_kiss really)
Masquer pour révéler by Fry_Teck: post verso ending, Aline&Alicia (4k, complete)
Also some verstave fics that I enjoyed despite not caring about the ship at all:
The Verstave Cinematic Universe (The VCU) by many different people (138k, complete)
Masquerade (Compatible Fractures) by MsCoffeebear (114k, complete)
Colliding By Design by LilacCadenza (117k, complete)
Run With Me by porgthespacepenguin (88k, complete)
The Chroma We Share by didhero (55k)
For those we can yet save by farbsturz (99k, complete)
In celebration of Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 hitting 1000 works on ao3 (I've been here since it barely had four pages), here are some fanfic recs:
maellicia dessendre's tormentous nightmare (WWE 2025) by deepestfathoms: series, Maelle/Alicia whump fics, girl is going through it (complete, altogether over 100k)
gods and men by rhibbet: starts as a verso-saves-gustave-at-the-cliffs fic until it starts widely diverging from canon in a way that has me on the edge of my seat (85k)
Belle Époque by vegarin: series, Gustave gets saved by pAlicia, it fixes everything (main work complete)
pianissimo by drunknpylades: gustave/verso, time loop, also check out the other works in the series (complete, 51k)
ritornello by Anosrepasi: Maelle accidentally Paints Gustave in Old Lumire, somehow is mostly about Gustave and pAlicia bonding, my beloveds<3 (25k)
To Recoat Oneself by j_mcpip: Lune/Verso, time travel, more members of the expedition survive (105k)
Crying In Colour by QuilliamWordsmith: series, four long ass oneshots, set in Verso's ending about the remaining Dessendres healing (complete, 68k)
chiaroscuro by moonatic: series, where Verso gets involved in Maelle's life earlier (16k)
more recs under the cut:
Pentimento by reina_randwulf: Gustave/Verso, Gustave & Maelle, modern au (86k)
Oeuvre Perdue (The Lost Work) by artistic_connoisseur: series, Lune/Verso, time travel, then alternate universe, author has insane update speed (over 300k)
Rêve Sans Fin by endlessblankpages: Gustave is a Dessendre child, very interesting world building, still relatively new (34k)
Grisaille by InkBubble: Gustave/Verso, pAlicia saves Gustave at the cliffs (59k)
Up In Smoke by QuilliamWordsmith: Modern au, Clea & Maelle, Sciel/Clea (more than 50k)
my voice will fade someday, but your wonder will forever stay by pyresque: Lune/Sciel, Maelle ending but not creepy, Clea is also there (31k)
Painted in Memory, Written in the Stars by breakaway71: Post Verso ending where Maelle finds out that Gustave also exists in the real world (complete, 23k)
Into the Verse by Sityro: series, starts with Maelle ending, weirdly intriguing (60k)
A Life To Learn by thebluemagician: Modern au where Gustave starts tutoring Alicia, Gustave/Verso (18k)
Hantés par le feu by AsukaAlSorna: series, oneshots, usually Alicia & Clea, French but google translate works pretty well (complete, 16k)
She's Crying Again by QuilliamWordsmith: Five times Clea comforts Alicia and one time Alicia comforts Clea (complete, 9k)
Pentimento by AshWinterGray: set post Verso ending, time travel, probably? it's still pretty new (17k)
Selfishness Runs in the Dessendre Family by TheGimbler: Clea-centric (complete, 5k)
A Difficult Child by ProcrastinatingPalindrome: Maelle, after getting adopted by Gustave (complete, 3k)
Tu étreindras la mer qui chante by YuiUltima: Clea-centric, won't make sense without the two fics this was inspired by, also check out the other works in the series (complete, 6k)
Something New by VampireBadger: after healing, the Dessendres paint the Canvas anew (complete, 3k)
Comfort by s3mprvivum: Lune/Sciel (complete, 3k)
even after I have died by lysdunkel (enheduane): short work about Verso's immortality, but like, not sad (complete, 2k)
give up the knife by lysdunkel (enheduane): about verso's immortality, but a bit more fucked up (complete, 2k)
Spoilers for the role quests in Shadowbringers below the fold.
*
Sitting in her small hut, grinding herbs steadily, Gwyn leans against the window - the evening sun streaming in through the glass, warming her cheek.
The world has changed, she thought to herself. Not so long ago, there would have been no evening sun - just the Light.
One of her ears perk up as she hears footsteps approaching the door of her small hut - perhaps someone in need of healing. Putting her mortar and pestle down, she turns to face the door, ready for whomever it is - still lost in thought.
And before that - War. The Warriors of Light, standing in opposition to the forces of the Shadowkeeper. A war that most of the people of the star didn't even know about.
Hearing whoever it is reach her door, Gwyn speaks up, before they can knock. "Come in," she calls, her voice soft but carrying.
The door opens, and a woman comes in. An elf, not too tall, with her hair neatly done to keep it up. A familiar face.
Gwyn stares, her hackles raising as her teeth bare.
"Greetings," the not-stranger murmurs. "I hear you are a healer?"
Getting up, Gwyn draws herself to her full height - looming over the familiar face.
"I am a healer, yes," she responds, her voice icy. "What is your hurt?"
Inside her head, a war is raging - fury and wrath, instilled in her soul by the Shadowkeeper, biting teeth and flashing claws, the lupine urge to find a throat and bite down-
Warring against her oath to heal, to not make her wolf anybody's problem but her own. The calmness, the duty.
The newcomer is staring at her ears, her tail, her claws - familiarity in her gaze. Slowly, she shakes her head. "I broke my wrist," she whispers, seeming to see into Gwyn's soul and see the rage within. "Will you heal me?"
Why should I, Shadowkeeper? Why should I heal your wrist instead of crushing your windpipe 'twixt my teeth and feel your tainted blood filling my throat-
"I will. Hold out your arm."
Her voice quaking as she ignores the violence screaming in her mind, the healer shakes her sleeves back, taking the injured limb in her claws. Her touch is gentle as she examines the injury - nothing too complex, just in need of a simple healing spell.
Light fills the small hut and she lets go of the arm, folding her hands neatly in front of her-
- to keep them from this monster's flesh -
- as she waits to see if her patient requires anything else.
The elf flexes her arm slowly, rotating her wrist, before nodding. "Thank you," she says, nearly so quietly as to be unheard. "I- thank you. I will- I will leave, now. I... am sorry."
Watching the woman depart, Gwyn bares her teeth at the closed door until the sound of footsteps can no longer be heard - and collapses back into her chair. Leaning against the window for comfort, she watches the night sky, the sun having set, and lets the night air on the glass cool her cheek.
As the dawning sun spills over the cliffs into the sands of the Great Work, Sajati grins - pleased that she still fits into her old dancer garb. Picking her feet up, she starts the steps again, remembered from more than four years prior.
Gradually speeding up the tempo, the beads and silks snapping and swaying from the movement, the Xaela grins wider - until she swings her hips for the next step.
Landing on the sand, Sajati pouts. Rubbing her head with one hand, her tail flicks, disturbing the sand behind her. Slowly pulling herself back to her feet, she dusts herself off, frowning down at the hips that overbalanced her.
Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV
Ship: WoLcred
Tags: Nightmares, post-Endwalker spoilers, hurt/comfort
also on ao3
Phantom has a nightmare. Thancred tries to help.
Written for the Fictober prompt: “It’s alright, I’m here now.”
Phantom was not prone to nightmares. As their longest partner, Thancred thought he knew his sleep habits pretty well. Phantom was a deep sleeper, but seemed to wake up pretty fast once he was awake. He was a blanket hog but also prone to chasing people across the bed to cuddle. They had a habit of kicking during the night, especially when stress was high. His ears twitched while he slept.
Whatever he dreamed about, it was difficult to tell. He never spoke about his dreams, nor had they ever woken up in the night screaming or frightened. If they had done this during the times Thancred was not with them, they nor anyone else ever spoke of it. But from what he could tell from Estinien and Yugiri, Phantom's sleeping habits didn't really change regardless of who was in their bed. When it was more than one of them, Phantom always tucked themselves right in the middle, the perfect place for them. Unless they were on a particularly kicky night.
So when Thancred was woken up to the sounds of Phantom shouting, his voice desperate and full of such pain, he was immediately concerned. He sat up and reached for Phantom. He turned, leaning into Thancred's shoulder. He could feel something wet and cold upon his naked skin. Phantom was crying now? What was going on?
"Hey, hey. You're okay. You're awake now."
"Gone. You were all gone. I was so alone."
“It’s alright, I’m here now.”
Phantom squeezed Thancred tightly as if to prove that he was really there. That he wouldn't just fade away into nothingness with just a simple touch. Phantom stayed where they were, shaking gently as their crying slowly stopped. Thancred continued to press reassuring words against his hair and up against his ears. Lucky they were on top of his head. He rubbed soothing circles against his back. Finally, Phantom pushed on him, sitting up fully himself.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."
"You don't have to apologize to me, Phantom. If you need to cry on my shoulder you can do it anytime."
"Any time, huh?" Phantom sniffled, but they seemed to be recovering. That was good. "Even in the middle of a fight? Or like when you're with Urianger?"
"Yes. Anytime."
Phantom laughed, leaning back against him again. Thancred cuddled up close to them, pressing absentmindedly kiss to his head and ears. Sometimes when they woke up together like this in the night, it would lead to certain activities, but that felt like it wasn't going to happen. This was all about making sure that Phantom was alright. They stayed there in silence for several more minutes, just resting against one another. Thancred wished that one of the others were here. It wasn't like he didn't enjoy their time together just the two of them, nor that he couldn't handle this all on his own. He just knew the others were going to be rather concerned over Phantom once they hear about it. And he knew he might not hear the end of it if he didn't tell them as soon as possible. Estinien could be rather obnoxious if something happened to Phantom and he didn't find out for the longest time. Although in Phantom's words, "I am always getting into danger and mortal harm. You can't possibly expect to hear about it all." Thancred chuckled softly, but he stopped when Phantom finally spoke again.
"I dreamed about what happened before I faced Meteion. When you were all gone. I felt so alone. I know... I know I have this whole chosen thing, well maybe not anymore. And I have taken on so many risks, sometimes without others, but it felt different. I was so afraid you wouldn't come back this time." Phantom let out a long sigh. "I've almost lost you too many times. What if the next time it's for good?"
"That won't happen. I promise. Listen, my second favorite shadow, you can't get rid of me that easily."
"Second favorite?"
"I have to give priority to my daughter."
"Oh so you admit it now, huh."
The both of them were laughing now. The tension that had started when Phantom woke up screaming was almost gone. He could feel sleep returning to him. But he didn't want to leave Phantom with these dark thoughts.
"I love you. And I'll come back from the dead for you if I need to. No matter what, nothing will keep us apart. I might become your second husband, but no one can replace you in my heart."
"I'd be your second husband too."
"And even so. I can't tell you that bad things won't happen and that we might not get seperated again, but I'll always find my way back to you. I always do, don't I?"
Phantom nodded. He leaned up to kiss Thancred. It felt like a promise, like a seal on one. Phantom seemed to become tired again, tucking himself right up against Thancred. Thancred waited until he could feel Phantom's breathing settle before he too fell asleep. He didn't think Phantom had any nightmares after that, but he knew if he did, Thancred would be there to comfort him again.
Her feel clicking on the stone floor, Galdra walks into the small inn, only to freeze as her name is called.
"Galdra, it's been years!" an unfamiliar horned woman calls. Galdra watches as the stranger gets up and approaches for a hug, confused and wrong-footed.
"I'm... Sorry. Do I know you?"
The stranger puts her hands on Galdra's shoulders, leaning back from the hug to peer at her face. "You've died again, haven't you?"
Her eyes becoming downcast, Galdra nods, her hair falling over her eyes as she does. "Yeah. Are you... Someone I used to know?"
Moving to a stool, the stranger sits her down. "Yeah. Don't worry, I will explain who I am. It's been so long..."
When it comes to conversation partners, you could do worse than Rhiki! You could also probably do better, though....
(Oof this one was rough! I'm sooo tired and it took me forever to stumble upon an idea for this prompt, which I wouldn't have at all were it not for the help of @avalon821, @akirakirxaa, @elliewiltarwyn, @dragoon-mid-jump, and others! Now I am going to bed... Finally....)
Rating: General
Characters: Ardbert, Warrior of Light (Z'rhiki Irhi)
Word Count: 1161
Content Warnings: None
Ardbert told himself again and again that he should be thankful. He was thankful. He had been on the verge of coming undone, of fading away entirely, when fate had seen fit to pluck him from the precipice’s edge. His curse had been lifted! For the first time in centuries there was someone who could see and hear him, even if it was just the one person. How long had it been since he last heard the sound of his own name? It had been even longer since he had felt the stirrings of genuine hope.
He was thankful, truly. It was just….
She talked so much.
“You know, I keep thinking about dying my hair,” she said as she looked into her inn room’s vanity mirror and re-fastened one of the small braids in her hair. “But I can never decide what color. A long time ago I thought about white, but white just seems so played out, doesn’t it? Plus, all of the other Scions have white hair. Maybe silver? Red? Or maybe something bright, like teal! But then, if I dyed my hair, do you think I would have to dye the fur on my tail, too? I mean, is it better to pretend it’s natural even though everyone knows it isn’t, or should I just own the fact that I’ve dyed my hair?” When she was satisfied the braid was secure, she turned her head either which way, examining herself before glancing up at him. “You know, I’ve never thought about it, but can you do something with your hair? I know you don’t have a corporeal form so you probably can’t cut it, but if you wanted to, I don’t know, muss it up or something, could you? Honestly, you should try it! I bet you could look a lot more roguishly handsome if you did something different with your hair!”
Internally, Ardbert sighed.
She was supposed to be his salvation, he supposed, but occasionally he found himself thinking that she was a little more like purgatory. Penitence for his sins. She talked constantly. Sometimes he thought about concealing his presence, or about abandoning his newfound companion to wander the Crystarium, but he had to admit there was something nice about talking to someone again. Or, rather, being talked to again. Most of their “conversations” amounted to her vocalizing random thoughts that he expected she would have been having anyway in his general direction. She didn’t seem to expect or require much input from him, and he wasn’t sure if she even wanted it. She seemed, for the most part, content to ramble to herself, with him as a silent spectator. Sometimes he would contribute a few words, or answer a question if he was able, but not often. Perhaps it was for the best: he wasn’t really sure what to talk to her about, and his conversation skills were probably rusty anyway.
“How many different colors of Amaro do you think there are?” She wondered aloud as they passed the rookery. At first he had been worried people might think she was losing her mind, talking to thin air as she was, but most of the Crystarium’s residents didn’t pay her any mind. They seemed to assume that she was merely musing to herself, if they noticed her talking at all. “I don’t mean, like, ‘moss green’ as opposed to ‘swamp algae green’ – I mean actual different colors. Chocobos come in a lot of different colors, though I suppose only a few usually occur naturally. The color of chocobos’ feathers actually depends on their diet, so if you feed them the right grains and vegetables you can make them all sorts of colors! All of the amaro in the Crystarium are dark green, but I saw some red ones in Lakeland. Do you think there are any that have magenta fur? Or pastel blue? Wait, does that stuff count as fur? Or feathers? I’ll have to look more closely the next time I’m on one. It’s very soft, either way!”
She never talked about anything important, of course. Or anything too personal. She didn’t talk about how she was adjusting to life on the First, or how she felt about what the Crystal Exarch had asked of her, or what her plans were for slaying a Lightwarden. It was possible she would be willing to broach such topics if he asked, but she never seemed to bring them up in her general commentary. The closest she came to sharing her deeper thoughts on their situation was complaining – about being tired, or about the aggressive wildlife, or about the Exarch. Mostly, she just chatted about whatever thoughts popped into her head, no matter how inane or frivolous. It could occasionally be entertaining, but at times it could also be annoying. And yet, he still chose to spend most of his time shadowing her. She was the sole person with whom he could communicate, and, under the circumstances, he supposed he couldn’t afford to be too choosy. It wasn’t as if she was terrible company. Just… a little much.
Evening was coming on quickly, and he followed her as she wandered towards the Crystarium’s market district. She languidly perused the different shops and stalls, waiting for something to catch her eye rather than seeking out something specific. Their ambling took them within sight of the Last Stand, which must have made her think of food, because she said: “What do you think I should have for dinner? Any recommendations? I suppose food has probably changed a lot since you were alive, so maybe you’re no better off than I am, but is there anything you remember being good? Specific dishes? Spices? Types of cuisine?”
Oh? She’d paused long enough for him to say something. Come on Ardbert, don’t let this chance go to waste!
“Hmmm… well, it’s hard to remember what things taste like, but Renda-Rae always liked baked megapiranha from the Greatwood.”
She pulled a face. “Bleh! No fish! I’ve eaten as many fish in my life as I’d like to, thank you very much! Unless fish on the First taste and smell completely different...?”
“Probably not,” He couldn’t help but smile a little. “Well, I was always partial to some old-fashioned roast ovim, but I’m sure you’ve had that already. I seem to remember that they used to make some sort of rice dish in Kholusia. It didn’t have fish in it, but the sauce was made from squid ink, of all things. Maybe that sounds mad, but I think I remember being pleasantly surprised by it. It might have had mussels in it, though. What was it called…? Something ‘negre’ I think?”
“Oh! That sounds good! I don’t mind shellfish – they’re not really fish, you know? I wonder if they still make it! Let’s ask! I’d offer to give you a bite, but something tells me it would go right through you! Get it?!”
(I realized that despite having written several shippy pieces, I hadn't actually written a kiss scene with Rhiki. So, I had to fix that : 3.)
Rating: Teen
Characters: Sidurgu Orl, Rielle de Caulignont, Warrior of Light (Z'rhiki Irhi)
Relationships: Sidurgu Orl/Warrior of Light
Word Count: 1,241
Content Warnings: Implied Character Death
Dammit! He hoped he had been imagining it but no, the clambering behind them was definitely getting louder. They were catching up.
Fury’s flaming-
Searing pain arced up his side and he stumbled, clutching at the fresh wound just above his waist. Warm blood seeped through his broken mail and between the fingers of his gloves. Not good. He gritted his teeth against the pain. It was bad, but not the worst he’d ever felt. Not fatal. That wasn’t going to matter in a few minutes, though.
‘Stupid! Reckless!’ He could almost hear Fray saying in the back of his mind.
“Sid!” Rielle call from a few steps ahead. Rhiki had stopped as well. No! We need to be moving faster, dammit!
He glanced around them. The corridor had narrowed into something of a bottleneck. Good. He could work with that.
“Here, let me,” Rielle started, taking a step back in his direction, but he shook his head.
“I’m fine,” He growled, which they all knew was a lie. But they all also knew that Rielle had run out of mana ages ago, before they had made a break for the exit.
The cacophony behind them grew louder.
Shite.
He already knew what he was going to have to do. The hard part was telling them.
“You two keep going,” he panted. He could taste blood on the back of his tongue. He must have taken more of a beating than he’d thought. “I’ll catch up!”
“What?!” Rielle demanded, but past her, Rhiki shook her head.
“It won’t matter. We’re not going to make it. You’re not slowing us down that much,”
Fury take her, of course she wasn’t going to let them do this the easy way. The easier way, anyway. There were times when he admired her stubbornness and complete lack of sense, but this wasn’t one of them. Of course she was going to insist on picking one last fight with him.
“You will if I keep them busy.” He replied simply, his other hand tightening around the grip of his sword.
Rhiki’s eyes widened in panic as she realized what he intended to do. He tried to tell her with his own how sorry he was.
“No! No no no! Sid, no!” Fear sharpened each word. She was afraid because she knew he was right.
Rielle looked between the two of them anxiously. “What are you-“ She was a smart kid. It didn’t take her long to figure out, either. “Sid we’re not leaving you here!”
“Yes, you are!” The words hissed through his teeth as the hand that had been gripping his side reached for the wall to steady him. He looked to Rhiki pleadingly, but she was shaking her head again.
“Rielle’s right! You know I hate noble sacrifices!”
He cursed under his breath. “It’s not nobility! It’s practicality!” When he raised his voice he could hear the pain fraying its edges. Their pursuers were drawing ever closer, and urgency bled into his frustration. “We don’t have time for this!”
Rielle had opened her mouth to protest again, but he ignored her and looked at Rhiki. She could deny it all she liked, somewhere in her mind she knew he was right. He could see it written on her face. And every second they spent standing there was a second that they were losing in their escape. “Rhiki, please!” He supposed there was no point in sparing his dignity now. He’d beg if it would make her move. “One of us can die here, or all of us can! Take Rielle and go!”
She was frozen, staring at him. He wished she wouldn’t look at him like that. He didn’t want to do this to her. To either of them. He knew all too well the sort of pain he was about to inflict. But if it meant they would both make it out of here alive, he would force himself not to care.
Rhiki was moving back towards him, reaching for her sword. “Fine! Then I’ll stay and hold them off!” She sounded desperate. This close, he could hear the way the distress made her voice hitch, and see the way her other fist shook from how tightly she was clenching it. He caught her raised arm by the wrist and yanked it to turn her towards him so he could look her in the eye. So she could see his own desperation.
“Don’t be stupid!” He snapped.
“Rielle needs you!” She argued, the first traces of tears glinting in the corners of her eyes.
“She needs you too!” Gods be damned! This was taking too long. “The whole world needs you! You’re the bloody Warrior of Light! You have millions of people relying on you to clean this mess up! You have a duty! And I-“ He realized he had been shouting when he heard his own voice crack. His next words were softer, but no less forceful. “All I have is the two of you! You two are the last things in my life worth a damn, and I’m not going to lose you too! I can’t!”
Her tears were falling now, and the sight was more painful than the grievous wound in his side. “Sid, I-“ Whatever she was going to say, he couldn’t listen to it. It would break him. This had already taken longer than it should have. Instead, he used his grip on her to wrench her up towards him and bent down to catch her lips in one last kiss. To shut her up, to comfort her, to tell her all of the things he didn’t have time to say. A silent I love you; the one that he didn’t have the strength to give voice to. It was the first time he’d found the strength to admit it to himself. As they kissed could taste tears on her lips and hoped to the Fury they were hers.
Before he could risk becoming lost in the kiss, he shoved her away. “Take Rielle and GO!” He ordered.
She looked at him for a moment longer, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze. He knew that she wanted to argue, that she wanted to scream at him, but he also knew that she cared about Rielle as much as he did, and that she wouldn’t let her anger at him be the death of her. He sent wordless thanks to whatever gods might be listening when she turned and grabbed Rielle by the arm.
Sorry, Rhiki. She’d probably never forgive him for this, but he couldn’t help himself. He was selfish. He didn’t want to be the one left behind again.
“Sid NO!” Rielle, who had been stunned into silence by the kiss, had found her voice again, and he winced. He hoped she knew he was sorry. He was sure Rhiki would tell her. He heard her struggling against the woman’s grip, heard her yelling his name, but he had turned to face the coming onslaught. He was going to need to drag this out as long as he could. If he had to, he could always trip the old failsafe, he thought – the one that he had heard Fray had tripped in his last duel; a few extra seconds, paid for in blood.
Rielle’s voice was growing fainter, and he smiled bitterly through the tears he could finally allow himself to shed.
FFXIVWrite Day 19 Make-up - Weal (AKA The Gleaner and the Frog pt. 2)
The continued adventures of Erenville and F'rhiki (Frog Rhiki).
(No one asked for this, but it's all I could come up with for "weal", as in "a sound, healthy, or prosperous state; well-being". Please enjoy Erenville's attempts to create an environment for his frog-ified friend.)
Rating: General
Characters: Erenville, Warrior of Light (Z'rhiki Irhi)
Word Count: 1,326
Content Warnings: None
“There, it is finished.” Erenville said as he gently placed the frog (the Warrior of Light, he had to remind himself) into the habitat he had assembled. The substrate he had managed to source on short notice wasn’t ideal, but it was serviceable. There was a driftwood hide, a shallow dish full of water, ledges and sticks for climbing, various small plants to add interest to the space, and a warming lamp overhead that could be adjusted for optimal brightness and temperature. He was a bit unsure which of these things a frog possessed of a humanoid consciousness would need, so he had procured them all for good measure.
The Warrior of Light looked around the tank, then back to him. She cocked her head.
“I will admit, it is likely quite different from the accommodations you are accustomed to,” he explained, “but this is the sort of environment that is recommended for keeping frogs of your type in domestic or research settings. It has all of the things you will need for the night: soft, damp soil, water, and a place to sleep. I… included some things to climb, in case you become bored, but I must confess, I am unsure what other elements would be beneficial for entertainment purposes. Normal frogs do not require much enrichment, but your mind is a great deal more complex than that of a typical frog. It is possible you will become bored.”
He eyed the frog knowingly. “And your other friends have led me to believe that you are inclined to cause trouble when you are bored. In this, I must ask for your patience. You need only endure for a few short hours. Do you understand? Croak one time for yes, two times for no.” He had elected to adopt Alisaie’s approach for rudimentary communication.
The frog croaked, though shuffled about in the substrate rather dejectedly.
“Good. Now, you must be hungry.” This was the part he had been dreading. He sighed, and plucked up the cricket in a small set of tongs, holding it up for her to see. While he imagined many parts of being a frog would be uncomfortable and perhaps demeaning for someone used to a humanoid form, eating insects and mealworms seemed like one of the more difficult adjustments. He did his best to look regretful as he lowered her meal into the tank. “Now, I know you may not find the idea of eating vilekin appealing, but you will need to sustain yourself until a solution is found, and your stomach is not adapted to digest the food you are used to. I may be able to find you some nutritional pellets given time, but in the short term this is the best I can- oh. You are already eating it. That is well, then.” He wasn’t sure whether or not he should be perturbed by her complete lack of hesitation, but he reasoned that there were places in the world where insects and other vilekin were eaten as an alternative source of protein. Or perhaps she was simply very hungry. Either way, it made his evening easier than he had anticipated. He dropped a few more crickets into her enclosure before explaining:
“Now, I am going to eat my own dinner, do some paperwork, and go to bed. In the morning, we can decide what we will do with you during the day.”
Erenville squinted at the scribbles on the page, tapping the tip of his quill on the ink blotter beside him. “I cannot read this Archon’s handwriting,” He complained to the spectating frog.
There was only so much surface space in the room, so the tank he had procured now took up a sizable portion of his writing desk. She had watched as he sat down with his various request forms and maps to chart the course of his next excursion. He had not anticipated that he would become so self-conscious with her observing him. There was no reason for the feeling; he was merely filling out itineraries and budgets and she was, well, a frog. But the discomfort persisted, so he had taken to idly commenting on his work to her to both ease the discomfort and entertain her.
He picked up the form with his free hand and held it in front of the tank for her to see. “What do you think this is supposed to say?”
“Ribbit.”
“As I thought,” he said, pulling the paper away and setting it back on the desk. “Totally illegible.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Warrior of Light nod in agreement.
He was awoken in the morning by the chiming of the small clock at his bedside and the first traces of dawn trickling in past the partially drawn curtain. He sat up, groggily, and reached over to silence the bells. After staring blearily ahead for a minute or two, he rubbed the rest of the sleep out of his eyes and stood up to begin his morning routine.
This familiar ritual eventually led him to the tiny kitchenette, where he set about making himself some morning tea. He plucked up the kettle he had left on the countertop, popped open the lid, and began filling it with water…
And almost dropped it when the kettle croaked loudly and jolted in his hands. Startled, he fumbled the teapot and sent the small amount of water within it sloshing. When he regained a steady grip, he peered inside to see his new friend staring up at him, affronted, skin glistening with moisture.
“What…?” It took his tired thoughts a few seconds to catch up to him, and when they did he found himself both bewildered and annoyed. He reached into the kettle and scooped the Warrior of Light out of it. He held her up to examine her. “How did you find yourself in my teapot? And, if I may add, why?” The frog squeaked, but he found he was unable to interpret an answer. From the evidence, he could only surmise that at some point in the night she must have escaped her habitat, hopped into the kitchenette, climbed up onto the countertop, and then climbed or leapt into the kettle. Presumably, the jostling of the frog inside it had caused the lid to fall closed, trapping her.
He narrowed his eyes at her, but he couldn’t tell if there was any contrition in her frog-y expression. “You are lucky I did not accidentally boil you alive, my friend.” He scolded as he turned back towards the writing desk.
As he drew close enough to see it, he stopped and groaned. In the light of the growing sunrise, he could see the branch she had used to climb out of the tank…which had evidently been positioned too closely overhead to where his inkwell had been sitting, because it appeared she had knocked it over in her escape. The papers and maps on his desk were now covered in black frog-prints from where she had explored. It appeared from the tracks that she had gone back and forth a few times, though whether it was in an effort to locate something, clear the ink from her feet or to make some sort or abstract artwork he wasn’t sure. From there, she had jumped to the floor, and had also knocked over the small wastepaper basket beside the desk for good measure. It looked as if she had rifled through its contents, though he couldn’t fathom why she would do so. Scraps of paper and other detritus were strewn about the foot of his desk.
He stared at the mess, then back down at the frog squirming in his hands. “I see you found yourself bored in the night.” He observed, deadpan. He was silent for a moment, then heaved a sigh. “Well, I suppose leaving you alone here during the day is not an option.”
Sitting on the railing of the ship, Monroe stares into the grey water. Waves lap at the wooden hull of the ship, and wind howls about the rigging - the only sounds audible to the Viera.
Belowdecks, she knows, the Scions and the crew of the ship are sleeping. Somewhere, she is sure one of the sailors is awake - the crew would be a fool to have nobody on watch, especially on a stormy night like tonight - but she cannot see or hear them, wherever they are.
The sail is fat with wind as she gazes into the choppy water - her brow furrowed as her thoughts turn inwards.
So distracted by her inner thoughts, she fails to notice as the water starts to churn unnaturally - the ship becoming becalmed as a vast whorl forms. The hair on her arms stands on end, as if harbinger to a levinstrike - but none comes.
It isn’t until a figure begins to rise from the twisting waters that she snaps from her reverie - and she instantly springs to her feet. Her mind still on her past, her hands fly to her waist - reaching for the daggers she long ago cast aside. When her hands close on empty cloth, she swears virulently, staring at the clearly deific figure rising from the waves.
Vast, a captain’s coat over its shoulders, the figure resembles nothing so much as a blue-skinned Viera. A tricorne hat rests atop a wild mane of hair - resembling the spray of water from a wave impacting a shore. A strong, broad figure is visible beneath the coat, as azure-toned lips turn downwards into a scowl upon seeing her.
God-slayer that she is, Monroe pulls her bow from her back, nocking an arrow - drawing it back to attack the water-formed giant. As the string comes taut under her fingers, the figure laughs - mocking and low.
“Sea-daughter, you know better,” it speaks, bypassing her ears to permeate directly into her mind. Confused, she shakes her head to try to clear the phantom sensations - the taste of salt on her lips, the sun on her upturned face, the sea calling to her-
“Your weapons will not harm me, Sea-daughter. Lower them. Now.”
Gripping her bow tighter, Monroe grits her teeth. Warrior of Light. God-slayer. This figure was clearly akin to the Primals it is her job to shoot, to fight, to slay. So why could she not bring herself to fire?
Clearing her throat, she forces herself to speak - her voice rough and low. “Why do you call me that?” she asks, the first question that comes to her tongue.
A vast hand wraps around the lower half of her body, turning into froth-capped waters as it does - pulling her from the deck as irresistibly as a riptide. “I call you Sea-daughter because that is what you are. Your own kin left you on my shores, and so I claimed you, and claim you, and will claim you. You are Sea-daughter, and I hold your past in my bosom.”
“My… Past? What do you mean?”
Even as Monroe asks the question, trying not to notice that she is being held a dozen fulms or more above the water, a wind fills her ears, carrying a voice. A voice she recognises - her own, raised in song, so young and pure.
“Our ship lies at anchor, she's ready to dock
I wish her safe landing, without any shock”
As the wind fades, the hand holding her resolves into solidity once more - leaving her sat upon the vast palm of the deity, rather than held in water. The ghost of a smile crosses the giant figure’s face, even as Monroe stares in shock.
“What… Do you want?”
“Want? I want for nothing, nothing, nothing, Sea-daughter. There is nothing ‘pon wind and wave that is not mine, to claim as I will. But you want. What do you want, Sea-daughter?”
“I…”
Falling silent, Monroe stares helplessly up at the vast face. Racking her mind, she has no idea what the entity wants her to say.
“I… Don’t know what I want.”
A frown, a pout, The figure seems crestfallen, as it replaces her on the railing of the Misery.
“A shame. But I am unending, fathomless. When you have your answer, you will know what to do. You will always return to me, Sea-daughter.”
Before the Viera can form an answer, the entity dissolves with a booming crash, soaking the deck with salty spray - and leaving her sputtering brine from her mouth. The wind picks up again with a howl, the storm continuing on, but whatever was making her skin tingle is gone - leaving her confused and adrift.
~~~~~
Today's FFXIVWrite stars Monroe, from @avalon821! I hope you enjoy!
In which Z'rhiki encounters an unlikely ally at a local street festival!
Rating: General
Characters: Urianger, Z'rhiki Irhi (Warrior of Light)
Word Count: 1,146
Content Warnings: None
Alright, this time for sure! The last was so close! I can do this! Angle my wrist like this… keep my hand steady… AND-
“Doth mine eyes deceive? Z’rhiki?”
The sound of her own name startled Rhiki, disrupting her carefully positioned throw. The wooden ring, painted to look like a dancer’s tathlum, clattered down between the empty wine bottles, nowhere near finding a home around any of their necks. “Urianger?” She spared a frown at the carnival game before turning to see the familiar elezen.
“Indeed. Pray accept mine apology for the intrusion.”
Of all the places she might expect to run into Urianger, this had to be towards the bottom of the list. A far cry from the solitude of the Waking Sands’ library, or even the whimsical, flower-strewn fields of Il Mheg. The street around them bustled with people. The air was alive with talking and laughter, punctuated by the shouting of barkers hoping to entice passers-by with their games or wares, and it carried on it the pleasant scents of all manners of food. Dusk had faded into night, and the streets were lit with brightly colored lanterns and twinkling strings of light, adding to the festive atmosphere. Though most might dismiss him as just another, ordinary fairgoer, to Rhiki he seemed out of place in such a crowded, lively venue.
“Don’t worry about it!” she said, raising her voice to be heard over the music and chatter. “What are you doing here?”
Urianger’s lips curved into a small smile. “The same as thee. Partaking of the myriad delights of the fair.”
“Really? Why?” The incredulous words escaped her mouth before she could stop them, and she hoped they didn’t come across as rude. Urianger’s smile faded, though not in a way that indicated he had taken offense. Instead, his expression looked… almost melancholy. Perhaps it was just the dim lighting.
“Thou seest through me like the thinnest of gossamer,” He mused. “Indeed, it was not mine intent to join in the revelries. However, upon the fall of twilight I found myself idle and could not help but to hear the jocundity of the carnival. My mind was grasped by a most singular thought – that such an affair was the sort that… Moenbryda might have enjoyed. Thus, did I resolve to wile away the evening with merrymaking, as she might have.”
“Oh,” Z’rhiki said, casting her gaze downward. She felt badly for asking, but also somewhat heartened by his truthful and open response. “Well, um, did you come by yourself?”
He nodded. “Thou art correct in thy assessment. However, mayhap I might pose the same to thee? ‘Tis passing strange to see thee in solely thine own company,”
She suddenly felt a little embarrassed. Was it that strange for her to be at the fair by herself? “I’m not alone! Fripon came with me!”
Urianger looked down to see the small white unicolt at his feet. Rhiki’s constant companion.
“A worthy escort.” He noted. He made no further comment, but she felt the urge to elaborate regardless.
“Usually, I would have asked Alisaie and Alphinaud to come,” she explained, “but they’re visiting home in Sharlayan this week. I asked Tataru if she wanted to go, but she wasn’t feeling well. And I have no idea where Thancred’s gotten off to. It seemed like a shame to miss out on the fun, though, so I thought I would just… come by myself!”
Urianger nodded. “I see,” There was an awkward pause, during which both struggled to decide whether or not to let the interaction draw to a conclusion. Any bad blood from his previous deceptions had long since cooled, but the two had never had much in common, and for a long time Rhiki had struggled to even understand his strange manner of speech. There were still times she found his musings oblique.
To her surprise, it was Urianger who broke the stalemate. “Mayhap…” He ventured “Thou wouldst like company? I am led to believe that such merriment is improved by the presence of friends.”
“Oh,” she was simultaneously caught off guard and flattered, not just by the offer, but by the fact that Urianger referred to her as a friend. She shouldn’t have been shocked, she supposed – the Scions were all, at least by technical definition, her friends. But it was still strange to hear Urianger use the word in reference to her alone.
She had almost certainly taken too long to respond, and Urianger shifted uneasily, perhaps thinking he had overstepped. He looked like he was about to open his mouth, probably to offer her an easy avenue of declining his invitation, but before he could she made a split-second decision and blurted out:
“Yeah, that sounds nice! Let’s walk around together. We never hang out!”
Urianger looked as shocked as she had felt, his eyes widening slightly. He recovered quickly, however, and smiled warmly. The expression suited him, she thought to herself.
“As thou pleases,”
At their feet, Fripon had begun snuffling around the hem of Urianger’s robes, apparently sensing the discomfort dissipate. He had always been very perceptive, and often mirrored Rhiki’s feelings towards people – even those she tried to hide, or didn’t recognize herself. He had never known quite what to make of Urianger. Maybe because she’d never known quite what to make of Urianger. Tonight, though, he seemed emboldened.
The tall man either didn’t notice the Unicolt or made no comment. Instead, he had turned his head to look at the ring-toss game Rhiki had been attempting when he had first called out to her. “Once again, mine apologies for disrupting thine efforts. Hast thou been yet successful?”
Rhiki laughed sheepishly. “Not yet. It’s more difficult than it looks! I was trying to win that Major General plushie, but so far no luck.”
“Indeed,” Urianger’s eyes wandered the game stall, and he tilted his head from side to side, thinking. He lifted one hand to stroke his chin as he complicated. “The angle and height at which one must toss is quite precise, as is the amount of force one must apply. It is clear to me that such a design is intended to minimize the odds of success.”
“Uh-huh.” Rhiki couldn’t tell if he was discovering this fact for the first time himself, or if he had intended to enlighten her. “That is kind of how festival games work.”
“However,” He removed his hand from his face and held a single finger up in the air. “I do believe it is possible to achieve, if one is only able to calculate the trajectory with sufficient accuracy.”
“Wait, really?” She looked at him askance. “Do you think you can do that?” He had to be bluffing.
He smiled again, exuding a quiet confidence, and nodded. “Mayhaps! Would thoust allow me to take the next turn in thine stead?”
Uhhhh I really don't know what happened with this one gang it kind of got out control. I couldn't help but think about the Werlyt questline, which are probably the bosses that Rhiki has found the most viscerally upsetting of any that she's faced. I thought it would probably remind her of all of the people she knows from Garlean-occupied territories. So because angst is squarely within my comfort zone, I decided to make it vaguely shippy to stretch my brain a little, with a pairing that I at one point bandied about but never really totally sold myself on.
Anyway, in the spirit of the event and because I'm queueing this at 2:00 am, this has only been loosely edited. Apologies in advance for any typos!
Rating: Teen
Characters: Warrior of Light, Sidurgu Orl
Pairings: SidWoL (vaguely)
Word Count: 2,750
Content Warnings: Mentions of (non-explicit) body horror, mentions of character death, mentions of alcohol use, general angst
“Alright, what’s going on?” Sidurgu asked, closing the door to his room behind them.
Z’rhiki spared him a glance and a brief quirk of her lips as she moved past him deeper into the room. She slumped onto the edge of his unmade bed. “That obvious, huh?”
“Yes.” It really was. She couldn’t have believed she was hiding it well. It looked like she hadn’t slept in days – dark circles ringing her eyes and her skin an unusual pallor. Her hair was always tousled and choppy, but tonight it looked actually unkempt, perhaps from being blown about in the cold Coerthan wind. She hadn’t reached up to fix it, though. In fact, he noticed, she was hardly moving at all. It was strange to see her awake but almost entirely still; she was usually so animated that he had stopped noticing her constant flurry of movement until it was suddenly absent.
“For a start,” he continued when she didn’t respond, “It’s the middle of the night.”
She smiled weakly down at her hands. “Sorry,” She muttered quietly. “I figured you would still be up.”
He shook his head. “It’s fine.” She had been right – he kept odd hours, though less-so now the he had Rielle to look after. Having been kept underground for so long, with no way of knowing whether it was day or night, had taken its toll on her internal clock, too, but over time her schedule had begun to even out, which he thought was probably a good thing. Still, it was out of the ordinary for her to appear so late, after Rielle had already gone to bed. She hadn’t seemed in the mood for a drink or small talk, either.
“You look terrible,” He pointed out.
“Thanks.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.
“You know that’s not what I meant,” Had the mood been different, he might have been willing to indulge her with some of their usual back-and-forth, but tonight seemed… different.
The room fell silent, save for the whistling of wind through the poorly sealed window panes.
“So…?” He started when she didn’t offer any further explanation, trailing off in the vain hope that she would continue his sentence. It was unnerving to see her this quiet, too. He’d seen her like this before, but only once or twice. It must have been bad.
He leaned back against the table across from his bed, absently brushing some of the bottles out of his way, and looked at her expectantly.
She shook her head back at him, though she was still examining the cracked plaster at the base of the opposite wall. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing. I’m fine.” That clearly wasn’t true. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”
Sidurgu sighed. “Alright,” – he certainly wasn’t in a position to demand she open up about her feelings – “Then... what do you want me to do?” Did she want to drink? Have sex? What? ‘Why is she here…?’
Another headshake. “Nothing, nothing…” Finally, she raised her eyes to look at him. “It’s just… good to see you, is all.”
He blinked. He hadn’t been expecting to hear that.
“That bad, was it?” He huffed.
“Don’t say that,” she responded in a low voice, looking away again.
It was true, but he didn’t intend to press the issue tonight, if he ever intended to press it at all. The pattern hadn’t been lost on him, though. This was where she always came when things had been bad. And the worse they had been, the more likely she was to turn up at the Forgotten Knight. Usually, she was able to keep it together while Rielle was around, appearing her normal chatty, sunshine-y self. After Rielle went to bed, however…
He wasn’t sure if her late arrival tonight had been intentional or just happenstance.
He pushed himself off the table and came to settle next to her with a sigh. To his surprise, she almost instantly leaned into him, resting her cheek against his bicep and making him glad that he had let Rielle talk him into wearing “normal” clothes once in a while. Rhiki was always the touch-y type, but she didn’t usually get so… cuddly unless she’d been drinking.
He didn’t move, just let her press against him. He waited. Either she would say something, or they would just sit in silence like this all night. He could live with that – it wouldn’t be the first long, snowy night he’d spent awake, after all.
They sat quietly for a time, listening to the wind and the creaking of the old wooden sign above the tavern door outside. The sparse candles that lit the room flickered.
Eventually, she did speak again, quietly but clearly.
“I just came from Werlyt.”
“Werlyt?” He’d heard of the place, but had only vague knowledge of it. He knew it was the territory that lay between Garlemald and Ala Mhigo, and that it had been occupied by the Empire, but little beyond that.
He felt her nod against him. For a handful of seconds, he thought she’d lapsed into silence again, but it seemed she had just been gathering her thoughts.
“Do you ever think about… what it would be like if you’d never come to Ishgard?”
He snorted. Even he could hear the bitterness in his voice when he said, “I haven’t bothered thinking about that in years.” There was no point in dwelling on what might have been. Not when he had his hands full contending with what was.
“That’s what I thought you’d say,” was all she said in response.
He considered leaving it at that, but his curiosity got the better of him. “What makes you ask that?”
This time he felt another headshake. “Nothing, I just…” Her voice cracked. “It was really bad, Sid.”
He’d been able to figure that much out on his own.
She was trembling now, ever so slightly, though her breathing was unnaturally even – trying to keep herself calm, he supposed. Awkwardly, he shifted their position so that the arm that she had been leaning against was instead wrapped around her.
“Tell me,” he said softly. It was the least he could do for her. Hells, it was the only thing he could do for her.
Another wordless moment stretched between them, and he began to think she wasn’t going to. Sometimes, especially lately, she didn’t want to. He remembered the words she had said the first night he’d seen her after her return from the First.
“I have to live the rest of my life with all of these horrible pictures in my head. I don’t want you to have to live with them too.”
He had enough of his own already.
Then again, it wasn’t like he could get much more damaged, so to hells with it. What was the saying? ‘Pain shared is pain halved’ or some such bullocks? That certainly wasn’t true, but at least pain shared was… well, shared.
Rhiki seemed content with the new arrangement of their bodies and rested her head against his chest so he could see only half of her face when he looked down.
“There were these siblings,” she said after a while.
“They were from Werlyt – orphans, I think. Only two of them were actually related. Their parents were probably killed in the Garlean invasion. But they were taken in by Gaius van Baelsar, of all people, and I guess they enlisted in the Imperial Army before he defected….
“Anyway, they got involved in this project the Garlean military was working on to create warmachina like the Ultima Weapon. That’s why I was called there – to help stop a Garlean war machine headed towards Eorzea. We met them, for a few minutes, right before the first machine appeared, and they traded some heated words with Gaius. The youngest one couldn’t have been older than 16….”
She had managed to keep her composure so far, and even lifted her head from him a little as she spoke. Clearly, though, she hadn’t begun to broach the part that had shaken her.
“After that, the Ruby Weapon – that was what they called it – showed up. We couldn’t just let it march all the way through to Ala Mhigo, of course, so we tried to stop it. Everything was going pretty well, but then it all got… got weird. Suddenly there was this yelling, screaming, from inside of the machine and then the top of it started to crack. Then there was this horrible, wet sound and something exploded out of it. It-It looked like Nael Van Darnus, or at least some twisted version of him- her? But it had wings. It was all white and slick and dripping this awful-smelling fluid everywhere… just thinking about it makes me want to vomit.”
She shuddered, then sucked in a deep breath.
“And if fought like Nael too – don’t ask me how I know. But we managed to take it down, somehow. And that’s… that’s when we learned the worst part. They were trying to get to the pilot, maybe salvage some parts and figure out what the Garleans were up to with it if they could, but,” She was shaking again, her voice becoming hoarse and pitchy, and she buried her face back into his shirt. “There was nothing we could do! The pilot, one of the siblings, she… she was fused into the machine. Cid – Cid Garland, I mean – said it must have been an agonizing way to die. I heard the screaming but I- I didn’t know what was happening!”
By that point he could see tears starting to slide down her cheeks. His grip around her tightened in a way he hoped was comforting. He never knew what to do or what to say when she cried. So he usually didn’t do or say anything at all, which, somehow, seemed to be just the thing she wanted.
“And it wasn’t an accident! I was designed to do that! All so that- so that they could hijack the poor pilot’s brain and upload combat data of famous Garlean soldiers! It was awful! And Gaius – Gaius has done horrible things to thousands of people but- but no one deserves to have something like that happen to someone they care about, not even him!”
Sid grimaced. He didn’t know if it was the words themselves or the way they made his friend tremble and sob against him, but they hung like a heavy weight on his stomach.
“And it kept happening!” She continued, unable to stop the words once they had started flowing. “And I couldn’t do anything to stop it! I knew what was happening but I- I couldn’t just let them kill people! They all died horrific, excruciating deaths! And for what?” One of her hands had found purchase on his shirt and twisted in it.
“As if that wasn’t awful enough, the- the few times I actually saw them I got visions, through the Echo, of things that happened back within their legion and… the Garleans, the legatus, they treated them like they were garbage! Like they weren’t even people! I guess to them they weren’t! And I- It was just- I guess I had always known what the world was like but I… how can people be so cruel to each other? The sineaters on the First were terrible in their own way, but they were just monsters! They didn’t have any thoughts, or feelings – they just existed to consume and corrupt. But these were people! And it’s so much worse knowing that regular people can be that monstrous! How can anyone get any joy out of something so- so horrible? The Garleans call us savages, but that… that was just barbaric. And I can’t help but think of everyone I know, all of my friends, who are from places that Garlemald invaded – you, Naago, Yugiri, Raubahn, Lyse… and how if just a few things had been different one of you could have ended up in the same place, and how I can’t stand to think of anyone treating you the way those poor people – kids! – were treated!“
She broke off for a short while, muffling her sobs into his chest while he looked down at her helplessly. After a few slow, trembling breaths, she composed herself enough to go on, quieter this time.
“I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop dreaming about it. Sometimes it’s just like living through it all over again, but sometimes when we open the machine it’s not one of them…. Sometimes it’s Yugiri. Sometimes it’s Naago. But a lot of times it’s also you, too, and I-“ She broke off, pulling away just enough to wipe furiously at her eyes with the back of her hand. “And I know that’s stupid! And that there’s no reason to think about it! But I can’t- I just-“
A few more deep breaths. Sidurgu wasn’t sure what to think about… any of it, really. It did seem like a strange mental leap to make, and he was a little surprised she found it so distressing, especially on his account. Regardless, it was clear how much it had upset her, and he couldn’t fault her for that.
“And I- I don’t mean to say that what happened to you and your family here was any better – it wasn’t! And it would be terrible of me to act like it was but…” She wrapped both of her arms around his waist having to pull herself almost into his lap to do so. Her head came to rest against his chest again. “I’m just glad that you’re here, where I can come see you and talk to you and give you a hug, rather trapped in one of those-those machines.”
He exhaled, eventually wrapping both of his arms around her as well. The gesture seemed to calm her a bit, and they sat like that for a few minutes, feeling the warmth of one another and the rise and fall of each other’s chests.
Eventually, Rhiki started to peel herself back from him. “I’m sorry,” she sniffled, rubbing at her red eyes again, this time with the heel of her hand. “I’m sorry. That was a lot. I didn’t mean to just dump all of that on y-“
“It’s fine.” He cut her off. He had never been very good at sounding soothing, but he did his best. “I’m here. I’m fine.”
That wasn’t true, of course. Neither of them were fine, or they wouldn’t be where they were. But he was sure she understood his meaning. He wasn’t fine, but he was at least at a typical level of un-fine.
“I know.” She offered him a trepidatious smile, her face still damp from tears. “I just needed to remind myself.”
She pulled him into another, fiercer hug, and he huffed in a familiar display of feigned annoyance. He took a moment to enjoy the embrace nonetheless, and reached one hand up to scratch lightly at the base of her scalp.
“It’s late. Do you want to stay the night?” He knew how she would answer even before he felt the nod.
“Are you going to let go of me?”
“No,” she mumbled into his shirt.
He sighed, and hoped she didn’t see how dangerously close he came to smiling. Oh well. He supposed there were worse places to be.
Standing in her father's hall, Rho breathes deeply. It is rare that she needs to see him in his capacity as Daimyo, rather than as her father - but it does happen.
Watching him, the Viera notices when he finishes consulting his advisor and turns his attention to her, Under the wide brim of her hat, she blanches.
"Samurai Rho," he intones. "Please step forward."
Without conscious thought she does, kneeling on the floor before him, doffing her hat as she does.
"You were sent to apprehend an intruder on my hunting ground. Please give your report."
A deep breath. Staring at her hands, she speaks, her voice carefully level and inflection-less.
"I apprehended the intruder without issue, and questioned them. They professed to have permission from another Daimyo to be in Hingashi, but had gotten lost. I questioned them, and finding no falsehood in their story - and a considerable amount of evidence supporting it - I escorted them back to Kugane. I estimate the chance of their return to our lands unbidden to be low."
Her heart in her throat, she waits for his response. Seconds stretch into minutes stretch into hours.
Eventually, her father sighs.
"You are a soft heart, Samurai Rho. I will trust your judgment at this hour - but if the intruder appears on our lands again, you will share punishment."
"Yes, daimyo," she murmurs, a smile on her face at her father's understanding.
It's a beautiful day in Old Sharlayan, and you are a horrible catte.
Splash
Erenville lunged forward, catching his quarry gently but firmly between his two hands. The frog squirmed in this grasp, but was unable to wriggle free.
“May I ask,” Erenville started as he lowered the frog delicately into the rectangular tank that sat between him and his self-appointed new friend, “Why you wished for me to teach you how to catch frogs? Do not tell me that your time masquerading as one has instilled you with a new fascination form them?”
“Something like that- Oh, wait!” She too dove her hands into the shallows of the pond, but unlike him emerged with empty hands while an agitated frog hopped away from its would-be captor.
“Drat!” she muttered, drying her hands on her trousers. “Anyway, you did say you were an expert on frogs. And since you collect things for the Studium, I figured you must be pretty good at catching them.”
“You are not wrong,” he agreed. “Though perhaps it would have been easier to ask your magically inclined friend to conure them for you?”
She flashed him a sly grin. “Oh, I definitely couldn’t ask Y’shtola for help with this.”
Erenville hummed. “And what, if I might ask, is ‘this’? What use is it you have for these creatures?”
“I have a really boring meeting at the Forum later today.”
He narrowed his eyes slightly.
Her expression morphed into one of unconvincing innocence. “I’m just going to take them to do a little sight-seeing! I won’t let them get hurt, I promise!”
“I see.” He regarded her for a moment, wondering idly if he should really be assisting in this endeavor. He was starting to have an inkling of what she might be up to.
“I’ll take good care of them! And I’ll feed them some nice bugs and bring them back home after!”
Then again, it really wasn’t any of his business what went on at the Forum.
“You must be careful not to lose track of any – greater Sharlayan is too cold for them, and if they can’t find their way to water, their skin could dry out.”
Though still kneeling by the pond’s edge, she gave him something of a mock salute, one fuzzy ear twitching as she did so. “Yes, sir! Oh, look, there’s another one over there!”
His gaze didn’t follow the trajectory of her pointing hand, remaining fixed on her while she eyed her next quarry. “You are quite interesting for a diplomatic envoy, aren’t you? You do not remind me much of the other delegates to Sharlayan I have met.”
“I would argue I’m the perfect ambassador to Sharlayan!” She quipped without removing her eyes from the frog plopping through the reeds.
Erenville wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so instead he edged gingerly over to her and took her hands in his. “Here, you are holding your hands wrong. And you should lower your upper body, or the frog will notice your shadow before you have a chance to strike. Like this-”
“What’s in the bag?” Alisaie nudged Rhiki with an elbow and looked pointedly down at the large and oddly square sack in her arms. She noticed the beginning of a smile on the Warrior of Light’s face before the woman caught herself.
“Oh? This?” Rhiki asked, adjusting her grip on the sack as the group settled onto some of the benches lining the corridor just outside of the Forum’s main chamber. “It’s just some books. We always have to wait ages for an audience, and since I don’t know much about Sharlayan I thought I would try to read up on it while we wait.”
“Really?” Alphinaud piped up, voice incredulous but eyes sparkling with excitement.
He’s going to be so disappointed, Alisaie couldn’t help but think. Alphinaud may have been naïve enough to believe that their friend had turned over a new, more studious leaf, but she certainly wasn’t. No, Rhiki was like her, and she was up to something.
“Oh, you brought books? A terrific idea! Might I borrow one? It would certainly help to pass the time,” G’raha Tia interjected.
“Uhhhh, you’ve probably already read all of these ones,” she heard Rhiki lie.
Forchenault’s bellowing voice ricocheted through the forum’s halls, echoed by numerous footsteps rushing down the hall towards him. The shouting summoned several of his colleagues, a smattering of staff, and the Scions of the Seventh dawn – all eager to find the source of the commotion. They all crowded around him, peering over, under, and around him into his office. All was quiet for a few seconds, before he saw the “Warrior of Light” double over in raucous, cackling laughter.
“Forchenault! I didn’t know you liked frogs so much!”
His grip on the doorframe tightened until his knuckles were white. Her.
The rest of the assembled crowd broke out into murmurs (and, to his aggravation, chuckles) as they took in the sight that had greeted him upon opening his office door.
A large frog sat placidly on his desk, croaking. Somehow it seemed to be looking directly at him, its black beady eyes boring into his soul.
Another frog hopped from around the corner of the desk, while yet another leapt down from a shelf on one of the many bookcases that lined his office. One scrambled aimlessly across the paperwork and notes he had carefully laid out, and another had contented itself wallowing in the soil of his potted plant. They were everywhere.
“It’s cute that you have so many of them, but you really shouldn’t let them wander freely around your office. They might get stuck somewhere! Or escape when you open the door!” The delighted smugness in the Warrior of Light’s voice made him seethe.
“These are not my frogs, as I suspect you well know,” He managed through gritted teeth.
This was her doing. He knew it. It had all been her doing. He almost hadn’t noticed when it started – small, inconsequential things not being where he had left them, or an inkwell he could have sworn he had just refilled being empty upon his return to his office. He thought the weight of his duty was simply taxing him, making him forgetful. But then there had been his wobbly desk chair, which he had spent more than an hour shifting about in trying to get comfortable in before flipping it over in frustration to see that someone had glued a small, flat stone to the bottom of one of the legs. That had clearly been someone else’s doing.
Then there had been the day he had continuously bumped into his office furniture and décor. He was not a clumsy man, and he had spent half a day ruminating on his sudden lack of coordination before noticing the indentation of a table leg in one of the area rugs and realizing that every bit of furniture in his office had been moved an ilm and a half to the right. A week or so after that he had returned to his office to find that the contents of all of his desk drawers had been rotated twice counterclockwise.
He didn’t know why she was doing it. Worse, he didn’t know how – he always locked his door behind him when he left his office. But he knew she was doing it, somehow.
And this? This was a clear escalation.
“Oh, you mean they’re not meant to be in here?” The Warrior asked in a saccharine voice.
“Obviously not.”
“Oh! Well, it’s your lucky day, then!” she exclaimed gleefully. “It just so happens I’m excellent at catching frogs! And, coincidentally, a friend of mine asked me to pick up some amphibian cages they had ordered, and I was planning to stop by after we finished our business here, so I have them handy! The Twelve must be looking out for you!”
Forchenault was certain the Twelve had nothing to do with this.
The miqo’te slipped under his arm and into his office before he could protest, and began removing a series of small, single-occupancy terrariums, like those gleaners used to transport specimens, from her bag and onto the stone floor of his office. His irritation flared.
“You will not get away with this! It’s obvious to everyone here that you are the one who released these creatures into my office! This is not behavior befitting of an emissary of the Students of Baldesion. I swear I will have you-“
“What, you think I did this?” The woman asked indignantly. She gingerly scooped the first frog from his potted fern.
He took a deep breath, hoping to control the tone and cadence of his speech. He wouldn’t be dragged down to her level. He would compose himself in a manner befitting that of a celebrated orator. “It’s the only rational conclusion I can come to, based on the evidence. Why else would you have brought so many frog tanks into the Forum.”
“I told you.” She carefully placed the first frog within its containment vessel and affixed the lid. “I was delivering them to a friend! Besides, these are clearly salamander tanks, not frog tanks. Obviously you didn’t study herpetology in the academy.”
“It hardly matters what variety of amphibian they were intended for!” He barked. “And if what you say is true, I suppose you wouldn’t mind me sending an assistant to accompany you to deliver them to your friend.”
The Warrior of Light shrugged. “You can if you want. I am going to have to take a detour to Labyrinthos to rehome these poor frogs after I’m done rescuing them from the prison you’ve been keeping them in, though. Oh, I suppose after that I should probably take the tanks home to wash out before I drop them off…”
He couldn’t believe this was happening. He opened his mouth to retort but she cut him off.
“Besides, I couldn’t possibly have set a bunch of frogs loose in your office. I was waiting with everyone else to be granted an audience with the Forum. You can ask the other Students of Baldesion if you like.”
“It’s true!” He heard his daughter’s voice chime in, and he looked over his shoulder to see her standing with her hands on her hips. “Rhiki was with us the entire time. We would have noticed if she had disappeared long enough to set a load of frogs free in your office. It couldn’t have been her!”
He could feel his blood pressure rising. Alisaie had always been the more… difficult of his two children. He loved her dearly, despite what people might believe of him, but she could certainly be strong-willed when it pleased her. He had half a mind to reprimand her for lying on behalf of her… playmate, when one of his father’s favorite students = Urianger, was it? - spoke up.
“My lady speaketh naught but the truth, Lord Forchenault,” The man, dressed in the robes of an Astrologian, said calmly. “I can attest that Z’rhiki ventured not beyond the limits of mine sight for the entirety of our repose.”
The Warrior of Light beamed. “See? What did I tell you? I’m sure any of the others would say the same! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have frogs to collect. There’s no need to thank me – I’m doing it for their sake, not yours.”
By this point he could feel a pounding headache coming on. Perhaps this was the gods’ doing. It was beginning to feel like this woman was an envoy sent not by the Eorzean Alliance to beg for Sharlayan’s aid in their futile war, but by the Twelve, specifically to punish him.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
I rarely write things, and even more rarely post them anywhere, but here's a silly little drabble I wrote eons ago when I was playing through Shadowbringers! I had posted it anyway so I guess I'll share it here too. Enjoy!
Warning! Spoilers for the very end of Endwalker in this one, so the whole thing will be below the cut.
"So," Estinien began, sparing a glance at his Auri companion. "Truly, you cannot channel aether, or use your voice?" The two were making their way slowly back to Heliox's borrowed room in the Baldesion Annex, Heliox leaning somewhat on Estinien, though more from exhaustion rather than injury. The remainder of the trip back from the edge of the universe had passed quickly - although more than one threat on his life was made should he, as Alisae put it, 'pull a moronic stunt like that again.' Heliox was fairly sure he'd exhausted Thancred with his translating duties by the time they'd finally arrived back to Etheirys.
The question gave Heliox pause, and he stared blankly at his friend in a look he hoped conveyed 'and how would I reply, should I be?', shrugging slightly in an accompanying gesture. Estinien snorted, moving to open the door. "You make a fair point. Have you any paper in here?" he asked as the door opened. Heliox looked gratefully at the bed, collapsing heavily onto it and gesturing listlessly towards a ream of scattered papers sitting on the desk. Pages upon pages of unfinished sheet music met Estinien's eyes upon depositing Heliox faintly unceremoniously on the bed. He picked one up, examining it. The lines and squiggles made little and less sense to him - he knew the principles, from long hours in the distant past spent in church, but that time felt a lifetime away. Shrugging off the memory, he picked up a blank one, bringing it over to the man currently laying face down on the bed.
"Here," he said, tapping Heliox on the shoulder with the roll before dropping it and stepping away to begin removing his armour. (Distantly, he realized he could probably make for his own room, but Heliox needed the help right now - and it wasn't like the idea of spending time with the other man would be a *bad* thing, by any means.) Slowly, a leadened hand blindly grasped at the paper, followed by the sight of the Auri man heavily flipping himself over, sitting up in the bed wearily. He was still fully dressed, and looked horribly uncomfortable for it - lacking the energy even to untie his laced boots, though he did make some headway with shunting his scarf and jacket off.
As Estinien undid the clasps on Iceheart's shoulder pauldrons, Heliox, with great effort, began writing a short sentence, holding the paper up to Estinien before leaning himself against the headrest, his eyes falling shut. 'Need help. Too tired.' the sheet read, in deliberate strokes - of Hingan, fascinatingly enough. Estinien smiled a bit, despite himself, and hurried along, quickly finishing undressing his armour to his underclothes.
"Are you aware that's not in Eorzean?" Estinien asked, approaching the bed again after a few moments, kneeling against it. Heliox, feeling the bed dip, opened his eyes wearily, before glancing at the paper, squinting, and looking exasperated at himself. He briefly let his head fall back into the pillow, before remembering the copious bandages across his forehead and raising it quickly, wincing.
The exhausted man shook his head, looking back up to his companion, before writing in Eorzean this time, 'You understood it well enough.'
Estinien snorted, returning to his armour. "Fair enough." His eyes took in all 7 plus fulms of the man in front of him- still leaking exhaustion from every ilm, but mostly dressed and in no real condition to sleep. "Do you actually need help, or is this just an excuse for me to stay longer?" he ventured, already beginning the long process of unlacing the other's boots. Heliox grinned, eyebrow cocked cheekily.
He scribbled something else on the paper, before holding it up. 'Who is to say? Maybe I just need a silver-haired Elezen chirurgeon, and I will cure right up.' Despite the arrogance in his words, his face betrayed the depths of his exhaustion - simply put, he was running on fumes, and it wouldn't be much longer until the depths of unconsciousness claimed him, one way or another. With a wry grin, finally finished stripping his own armour, Estinien began plucking at the tightly wound laces of his companion.
The first boot came off successfully - both of them wrinkling their noses slightly - before Estinien started in on the second. "Shall I fetch Urianger for you then?" Estinien asked, all snark in his teasing as ever. Heliox wrote nothing, merely mock pouted in reply, and Estinien laughed, heartily and belly-deep - perhaps the first real laugh he'd had since the Final Days had begun. Despite himself, Heliox smiled too, unable even to feign malcontent in the face of such joy.
When the laughter finally died down, the air of mirth and relief remained, permeating the space around them. The two worked comfortably - there was no rush, no extraneous air of passion as could be known to occur when a pair of two stripped each other's clothes off, merely the gentle, relaxed comfort of trust, of Estinien taking care of Heliox, for once, and Heliox gratefully allowing him to.
(There was, to be clear, a few moments of struggle - and foremost amongst them was Heliox bemoaning the skin-tight pants Tataru had gifted him with before they'd set out towards Ultima Thule. Sure, they had been terribly comfortable to wear and fight in - but perhaps a bit more creativity was needed for Estinien to get them off of him. Nothing Heliox himself, with his extensive weaving experience, couldn't fix later - and what Tataru didn't know certainly wouldn't kill her.)
When at last they finished, the afternoon sun flowed through the open window, and briefly Estinien thought of their previous meeting in this room. It had been so recent, in reality, but it felt like a lifetime ago. As Estinien's eyes glanced at Heliox - collapsed on the bed, propped up on a pillow, boneless and yet radiant in the sun's golden rays, gazing at him with unabashed love in his glowing eyes - he felt a certain longing in his breast. He glanced at the ajar window, where he had exited some few nights prior, and for only the briefest of seconds considered absconding through it - before shaking his head, smiling to himself, and climbing into bed next to Heliox. Despite the hard scales lining the taller, and the specific way they each had to lay due to horns and pointed ears, the two of them fit together perfectly.
Lazily, a single violet hand carded its way through silver hair. Two sets of eyes met, sharing a look which communicated volumes in moments, bereft of words, before both crinkled in a hazy, relaxed smile. As both pairs of eyes fluttered shut, it was only seconds before the pair, blanketed by sun's light, fell headfirst into blissful oblivion, entwined in each other.
Looking up from my dinner, I slowly raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate - and catch his breath.
Eventually, he responds, voice tight with panic.
"I ordered a birthday gift for Tyr - it's a new sword and suit of armour, made by the smiths in Bozja - but I just got a linkpearl call saying that delivery has been delayed. Can you please teleport over and get it? I'm due to meet him at the tea house in ten minutes."
Looking up and down the panicked feline, noticing his extremely expensive-looking attire and a flower in his lapel - clearly dressed up for a date - I sigh and nod, getting to my feet.
As he thanks me profusely and leaves, running a hand through his hair, I teleport away, shaking my head.
~
Carrying the large crate on my shoulder, I approach the teahouse. Seated on one of the benches, in the dusk light, I see the couple, leaning close and murmuring quietly, oblivious to the world around them.
Not wanting to disrupt their date, I place the crate down where G'raha will see it and quietly take my leave.
