excogitation.

AFLATUSSOLACE is a independent FINAL FANTASY XIV original character multi-muse, featuring primarily healers at present.  Written by ALLEN ( 26, transmasc, they/he ) and crossover friendly.          rules. muses. interest tracker.

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@graceful-cure-swan​​ —   "This is starting to sound very shady." (To Ravatt from Tsubasa's ffxiv verse!)

“And…? Even if it is something as simple as that, I would hope you to be enjoying yourself! Honestly, when do we ever get a moment to relax?” It was true, there was hardly a moment when Alisaie felt she wasn’t running around talking to someone or on the move trying to train. Being able to sit back every once in awhile to watch the Warrior of Light do something he enjoyed was nice! Even if it was something she didn’t necessarily understand.

“You know, my mother would try to teach Alphinaud and I both how to sew, and while he caught on rather quickly, I could never catch one~ Always wanted to rush and get it done, I suppose. Though honestly, could you see me sitting around like Tataru sewing all day?”

“That... is true,” he says, scratching the back of his neck, still CONFUSED as to how he was deserving of happiness, all for simply sitting down and patching up clothes. Or... perhaps she wasn’t talking about the repairs specifically when she’s said that.

But then Alisaie starts to speak of her mother, how she’d tried to teach them both.

“Why not?” Heron asks, not swayed by the insinuation that weaving didn’t suit her. “It can be really relaxing if you let it be! Just think about the journey, not the destination!”

Though that did sound like Alisaie.

“Ah, well. I suppose so.” she rubs the back of her head. The only person who writes to her was the gunbreaker and R’leia’s parents, so there wasn’t like she had a whole lot. But the latter senders, although they mean no harm, would always put the brunette through a dour mood after writing back.

She wouldn’t want to speak more of her writing abilities, feeling as though the teen wasn’t being considerate of the other if Leia tries to voice the difficulties in learning Eorzean. Never mind Norvrandt as she would have left it to the more adept in learning to figure it out.

And though Eorzean is the more used among them now, she writes to her old companions in Rieze Maxian. “I should check to see if I have a response. It’s been a week or two, I believe.”

“Mayhaps you should,” he says simply, lips tilted upwards into a barely-there smile. 

“Say hi for me next time you write them, would you? Can’t really do it myself, since I’m about as literate as a sack of popotos.”

“Really?!” How lucky! Now she wouldn’t have to go back to Tataru empty-handed! “That’d be great! How much would you charge? I she needed, I think, stacks of at least…sixty each?”

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@fenixdown​ —   Alta pulled back, desperate to catch her breath and soothe the butterflies that blossomed in her chest. For but a beat, Alta was dazed, drawing her tongue over her lower lip from the little pull of his teeth, before her irises found focus on his face.

And then she stared. She covered her mouth, a blush beginning to color her cheeks under her smeared face paint.

"S - ...Sair'a - my paint - you didn't let it dry," she sputtered. He had the pigment everywhere - on his own lips, on his fingertips where he had held her jaw - in the corners of his mouth where she had strayed - ... oh, they had made a mess of things.

It wasn’t everyday that he managed to meet a healer from the Azim Steppe, much less get to know one as he’d been fortunate enough to do with Altansarnai Kha-go, the Warrior of Light of all people. Perhaps some of these things could take the blame for his attraction, though he would be hard-pressed to put fault on one thing in particular. 

And Sair’a was nothing if not forward. 

His laugh is light, mirthful even as he smiles, watching her cheeks flush beneath the skewed face paint. It had smeared wherever he touched, whether it be their lips or the glide of his fingertips along her jaw—the latter of the which he had not yet retracted from her person.

“Ah, what a pity. I suppose we’ll need to start again—”

The attack she had just unleashed pushed her body to it’s limit, nearly sending her to her knees. The brunette stabs her spear into the ground, hoping to hold herself up as she felt exhaustion overtaking her.

“Ha…haha, considering that I based this attack of his…I would at least take the latter compliment…” a smile broke through her exhaustion, thankful for him and his support.

“Even if you’re fast on your feet, I’m sure I’d weigh you down…” she chuckles, “Maybe somewhere that’ll keep us out of harms way while I regain my strength.”

Amusement subsides when R’leia stabs her spear into the dirt beneath them, using it as a crutch. He crosses the distance quickly, holding a hand out, more than prepared to catch her, should he need to. 

“Weigh me down?” he says with a breath of laughter, though the seriousness of his expression does not match the tone of his voice. “You look near as light as my sisters. Just as light, if you discount the spear.” 

But he is quick to move around her, ducking beneath her arm to replace the spear as what is holding up, though he does not lay a hand on her besides without first posing the question, “Can you walk at all or should I carry you?”