yaay

𝐈𝐋𝐌 𝐁𝐘 𝐈𝐋𝐌, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅. private and low activity y'shtola rhul of 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐘 𝐗𝐈𝐕. spoilers present. mutuals only, basic dni applies. discord and ffxiv ign available on ask!

rules.

sharlayan. though they had only just arrived, and by all accounts a homecoming should have been long overdue. clean beds, warm food, nation not under immediate threat ---- a godsend, to some. to y'shtola, such matters were nothing short of complicated.

much like her master, y'shtola's reputation in her hometown was infamous, to say the least. if one penned her with an attitude problem now, they should have seen her studium days, let alone her time as a kit, an ego ill-fitting of her small form. and while her deeds and achievements preceded her, she couldn't say she held any particular fondness for the people, nor the scenery. it was a self-preserving place with little love for outsiders. from birth, it's all she was.

thankfully, the sorceress had company of similar mind. sharlayan was a point of unease from several of her comrades. and while they all played catch-up, y'shtola nursed a glass of wine, sulking in the most elegant way one could, at the last stand.

the warm sun was infuriating, the hearty chatter was maddening. the neat corners and inescapable faultlessness dared to tear a hole in her skull. to be idle, was another. as soon as she had a problem to slave over, all such contempt would wash over her in cathartic waves. for now, this cat would stay while the mice go out and play.

g'raha tia spots her though, of course he would. seemingly had he lost the warrior of light in their hurried escapades of exploration through the city, he'd come to check on a familiar face. (her scowl did her no favors, though she had no want to fix it.) he spouts words of worry, and she only reacts in the most irksome way possible, like her senior.

though only described to her as deepest black, nidhogg is blinding. the amount of aether to sustain a being of such purity, such monstrous size ... it was as if he emanated it. and while any interaction with the great wyrm incited fear ... all y'shtola could feel was curiosity.

blinding, dangerous curiosity. the bane of all scholarly individuals, especially an aetherologist such as herself. she couldn't tear her gaze away. like she could see the age on him, this history. the stories it would tell ---- the surge of life he'd emit if felled ...

" if i didn't know any better .... i'd assume you were trying to best me. in my own game, no less. " y'shtola's greeting is dry, though laced with a characteristic humor and underlying affection. iphenne had always been safe from her deeper cuts --- perhaps the only way the sorceress would ever make her fondness known. a fondness that manifested among a long stretch of familiarity with the warrior of light. pointedly, at their shared habit of laboring ever too much.

iphenne's dark circles rivaled her own. and while their talents diverged, running around talking to every new world leader, keeping rapport with them, and returning in time to cater to every scion's whim surely competed with y'shtola's slave over ancient arcane ingenuity.

if iphenne had run into anyone else, she'd be rushed to bed, hot food sent her way, scolded for such overwork. instead, a carny smirk pulled on y'shtola's lips. a warmness that manifested in a way that a fearsome wolf warmed its brood.

she's slumped over the centermost stone table in the rising stones, tomes strewn about in disorder. fresh ink stains the table, wiped down surely by someone in passing. seemingly hundreds of pages of her own writing categorized in disheveled piles that no one dared touch --- lest they interrupt her system, or worse, incur her wrath.

upon iphenne's arrival, still, y'shtola does not look up. though she had no need to, it grew habit over so many years. still, she continued to take note. it doesn't stop her from waving over the warrior with a free hand, motioning for her to sit adjacent.

" come to see the sights ? " though not pointed at estinien, y'shtola's sarcasm-soaked words could only find their home within one out-of-place elezen among scholars. matsya and her entourage chat amongst themselves, surely taking in the unique surroundings outside, while y'shtola enters the watcher's workshop, estinien tailing loosely behind.