#{ ic.}

There was much on Meiko's mind: a telling sign that everything was going wrong.

They had won. A'kihiko had won, specifically, but Eorzea itself was rid of Gaius van Baelsar and the Ultimate Weapon and Lahabrea. Was that not the end of it all?

She knew the answer, and yet naively still found herself taken aback by all the work still left to the Scions. Primals were still being summoned, other Ascians yet lingered and sought to continue Lahabrea's schemes, and now they had yet more to ponder with Lady Iceheart becoming a primal herself!

It all felt beyond her, even moreso than usual. She worried for her brother, too. Even with Hydaelyn's protection and blessing, and all the natural talent he had, he was still a young man. It was all still too much to put on anyone's shoulders. She tried to share the weight, and liked to think that she did, along with the other Scions -- but no one could truly feel the gravity of whatever destiny was planned for him. It made her ill just to consider.

And now there was this: Yet another group of people in need that A'khiko could never quite seem to deny. Scholars like the the Sons of Saint Coinach made no sense to Meiko. With all the strife and dangers already in the world, they sought to open a new can of worms out of curiosity still, wanting to pry open an ancient tower that was likely sealed for a reason!

At first, it was only collecting crystals and whatever the fuck aethersand was. A'kihiko did that on his own. And then the other wee Miqo'te lad showed up doing some acrobatic nonsense and naming the expedition and --

It didn't matter. Meiko was pleased, at least, to see how quickly Hiko and this G'raha Tia got on. Like kindred spirits, they had been chatting and showing off at a training dummy for two hours while Rammbroes and Cid prepared to undo the Crystal Tower's defenses and employ mercenaries to fill the vanguard.

This left Meiko with naught to do but wait and feel out of place in this camp of scholars, which at this point had become so commonplace she was almost comfortable in discomfort.

But of course, she looked as idle as she was, so someone had given her a task The 'man with the white hair in the tent at the end' apparently need whatever what within this box she'd been handed for his research.

Aye, every lad's got white hair nowadays, she thought idly, making her way over. Fortunately, the tent at the end could only be one specific location in the camp, so she let her ears lead to push the tent flap aside while her arms were full.

"Delivery from... one o'yer other lads," she stated simply, straightening up as she walked in. Right, the only person within was a man with white hair. Had to be him.

She offered the box in her arms, while also taking in the surroundings of the tent; he had quite a number of strange-looking relics, dark in shape with strange patterns mostly glowing bright blue or deep red. She couldn't make heads or tails of what they were likely for.

Getting used to living somewhere she wasn't used to was going to take some time, but at the very least, Kanade was slowly adjusting herself to being here. Anything was an improvement over what was going on before, and she really figured she shouldn't be anything less than grateful someone let her live in their space at all.

Her sleep was still erratic. That wasn't exactly a big change from how she lived before, but when broken up unwillingly by memories she'd rather not revisit and nightmares, it was a little more uncomfortable to put up with. She managed regardless, and maybe more when she finally felt like she could properly ask to use Mafuyu's equipment and start trying to compose again.

Some of her time initially had been spent looking at some of the commentary while she was gone. When someone uploaded as often as "K" did, of course suddenly not doing anything for a month or more was going to make people wonder. "Where did they go?" "Are they okay? I hope they didn't give up on making music!" were just some of many. Maybe there was a strange kind of comfort it knowing that her absence was noticeable, at least, even if she didn't really interact with these comments or directly speak.

She didn't expect to make much progress in a day. She navigated what she had available to her now that she no longer had access to her own more familiar setup, and refreshed herself on what programs she now had access to. Synthesizers were easier to get accustomed to. It was like sitting at a piano or any other synthesizer to Kanade. She could adjust like she was studying the back of her hand, but she's been like that since she was a little girl.

OPEN STARTER:

Sam Jang has cracked.

Gradual effort in breaking his walls down has finally been rewarded.　You don’t even think you’ve done anything wrong:　you,　the perfectionist,　the best shot,　never a mistake of your doing for as long as you inhabited the facility.　Sam seems keen on playing both judge and jury regardless,　no aggressive mutt at your beck and call for reasons you have yet to discern.　All you ever did was kiss him,　lips forced together in untempered salacity to do away with the tension.　Fuck,　you still have no idea what pushed you to do it.　It just felt right.　No fewer than eight days and three hours have lapsed since you’ve last interacted,　not swayed even by your quaint text message　⸻　you’re instead gifted a pocket dial,　a symphony of rustling fabric,　heavy breathing cascading into moaning.　Silent on the opposite line,　you decide there and then to mirror his indulgence,　seeking out saintly presence to temporarily quell your void.

So whatever.　You hook up with Levi again,　impelling him to be a little rougher,　go a little harder,　cover your body with love.　What you seek above all else is evidence,　tangible proof that you are just as capable of fucking other people as he is.　It’s nothing to you.　Water off a duck’s back.

When the two of you finally reconvene,　you make sure to sport the hickeys with pride.　Black lace ensconcing you　⸻　framing the curve of your tits,　satin ribboning crossed along your waist　⸻　is reward in and of itself;　you cannot explain the compulsion to wear it for him,　you can’t,　you just can’t.　And yet you know you look sexy,　and you know he will think it,　too.　Maybe what you want is for Sam to regret.　You really don’t care what he does in his spare time,　but like god do you want him to care about yours.　

❛❛  You really wouldn’t believe how he looks at me.  ❜❜　It’s why you should feel worse about stringing Levi along.　You don’t.　❛❛  Or how he fucks me.  ❜❜　Lurid gaze designates your darkened eyes exactly upon him,　desperate to watch that repulsive jealousy creep across his countenance,　flicker like a spark between his brows.　Lithe fingers secure around his wrist,　tugging him off to your fabled bedroom.　That’s what he’s here for,　after all.　That’s what he’s good for.