#catscratching

Sunlight gently leaks into a darkened inn room. It grows longer as the hour goes by, reflecting off the verdant colored glass of the wine bottles on the floor. Each one is empty, some gathering a thin layer of dust as time marches forward. A twinkle of color splashes across the hard wood, playfully climbing the bedside and ending perfectly on the sleeping face of a nearby Viera.

Heavy lids lift unwillingly, greeted by the brilliant reflections of too many evening here by herself. A soft groan escapes her lips and her brows knit together in frustration. She always preferred her dreams to the harsh realities she would have to face. She stumbles out of the bed, feet knocking the glass bottles over as she sways on unbalanced legs. She reluctantly peels back the curtain, peering past the grime and frost covered panes into the lanes of Ishgard below.

She shivers as morning chill brushes across her bare arms and wraps them tightly around her body. A dull ache pulses in the back of her head and a hiss escapes between her lips. She wasn’t ready to face it all yet, to face them. She had done her part, put on the stoic face of the hero they expected her to be. Here where only the reflection in the mirror could place judgment, she could let go and be vulnerable.

The scowl on her face softens as she watches a couple on their way to the Jeweled Crozier. They smile and laugh at some exchange, leaving a sharp tug on her heartstrings. Bittersweet memories well up inside as she reminds herself she does this for them... for all the people of Eorzea.

And what have any of them ever done for you? How much more will you let them take? The small voice from the darkest realms of her mind calls to her, its cold fingers taking its grasp once again around her heart. Guilt comes flooding in behind the anger and she yanks the drapes shut. She reaches for a bottle standing on the desk, the wax seal quickly removed by the dagger laying nearby. No, today was not the day she would face the world without him. Perhaps tomorrow she will have the strength to place the hero's mask back on... but not today.

@catscratching thank you for the prompt! This one always reminded me of the wine bottles scattered all over the inn room in Ishgard. I personally headcanon that Phoebe had an extremely difficult time with the events in Ul'dah and losing Haurchefant but never felt she could grieve openly. It also ties in well with the dark knight questline. Hope you enjoy and thanks again!!!

15. trembling hands

A dragon manifesting within their barracks as they slumbered, seemingly out of nowhere, had done well to catch them off guard. It left the survivors little choice but to retreat into the blanket of night, their skin torn by its claws, and heads dizzy with its smoke.

Ancel had escaped the worst of the damage, managing to work himself and an ashen-choked Estinien outside and away from the immediate danger. A lantern, scavenged suturing supplies, and a pitifully shallow flask of vodka were markedly little to lick their wounds with, but they simply had to do.

“Wait,” Estinien coughed quietly, fighting to remain lucid as he was seated against a tree. “Wait. I—“ Whatever remark the young knight had prepared quickly uncoiled into a sharp cry, his entire body flinching as the angry gash in his leg was doused in the lukewarm, stinging liquid.

“I’m sorry,” Ancel eased softly as he placed his free hand instinctively upon Estinien’s chest to still him. Further words died in his throat when his fellow knight's hand flew up to grab his forearm in answer.

For what felt like hours to Ancel, they remained. Heat chased through his veins. Tremors wracked his hand involuntarily, his fingertips curling inwards somewhat in a futile attempt to calm it. Had he not been frozen in place, he might have failed to notice the selfsame phenomenon occurring in Estinien's own ever-tightening fist. His arm. His body.

Though stubbornly downcast, his expression was one of unspoken turmoil; a different sort.

"... Are you alright?" The question was a whisper, and it left Ancel before he could stop himself.

Estinien exhaled and shook his head indiscernibly. It seemed less of an answer and more of an itch.

"Be quick," he muttered, stiffly releasing Ancel's arm. "I can't let it escape."

A silly one but he’s a moogle worshipper!

thank you for the ask, @catscratching​!!

💙: how would my muse handle seeing their object of affection falling in love with someone else?

For both Ancel and Gale, resignation. Just different flavours of it.

— Ancel would fall into deep, yet silent depression, going right back to minding himself and withdrawing his feeble courting attempts. If he and his person of interest are keeping contact, he would still act respectful towards them, but hundreds of layers of hurt would be buried underneath. Since he scarcely addresses his feelings, he doesn't tend to get over them as easily as he might think.

(In his WoL iteration, I definitely like to think he lived this through witnessing a blossoming chemistry between Aymeric and Estinien wayyy back in the day - but that would've been his own dang fault anyways so  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

— Gale tends to be more aggressive and self-destructive with his heartbreak. He doesn't exactly see himself as worthy of love, and to watch someone he found himself caring for beyond base desire sway towards another would inspire a lot of self-hatred. He'll play it off; he'll insist it hardly matters, that a heart's just a muscle, and that he would have ended up hurting theirs in the end. 

But in turn, he’ll double down on his terrible coping mechanisms, foregoing contact with the person entirely and desperately seeking to fill a void that really can’t be filled with booze and mindless sex. 

“For Halone’s glory..”

“For Halone’s grace...”

“For Halone’s justice...”

A chant echoed through the darkness...Various figures dressed in armor, squires in training.

“From this day forward...” A knight clad in shining white armor, a symbol of the Heavensward that defended Ishgard.

“You are all Ishgard’s protectors, our defense against those vile Dravanians. Pledge your life with pride for the glory of Halone...”

“For the glory of Halone...This is the path I will take.”

A dark haired midlander boy pledged to himself, determined green eyes locked onto the statue of Halone.

“I will protect the people with my life...”

I had thought this was a dream come true. That I would finally be useful...

The abyss then took over once more...

“...Are we sure they’re the enemy?”

“Yes..Of course they are. Can you not see them? They’re clearly the enemy. Those vile dragons..Using these tricks.”

“But Ser..They-”

“But what, -squire?- Do you think these vile beasts as us? If we leave them alive, they will no doubt destroy Ishgard, destroy your family, do you want that to happen?”

“...No Ser.”

“Then do. Your. Duty.”

And so, a sword was raised...

“[P-Please no! W-We’re not..We only wanted to...]”

Their pleas screamed in a foreign tongue fell silent to our ears...As our blades claimed yet another head, staining the snowfield around us red. I had thought I was doing the right thing. I had thought...That this was my duty.

And soon..A door would open, blinding light that lead back to the waking world...

[Warheit Vestige Part II Repaired]

I hate it when I lose a roll on an item I really want by one point!!!

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