#cmno

IC ASKS // always accepting!

He doesn’t sound so sincerely surprised, Alisaie thinks, an eyebrow narrowed. She had not expected to come across her brother now, it was true, but if the same truly could be said for him wasn’t something the young elezen was too certain about. 

And then he continues, and she knows exactly what is going on.

Skepticism and inquiry both disappear from her face, and blue eyes gleam with some mean-spirited amusement. Such a brilliant mind, Alphinaud had -- and yet, when it came to ghosts, the boy simply failed to be his usual calm, logical self. She does her best not to seem too amused, if only not to ruin the perfect chance to tease him. “ Why, brother, I have been listening in to rumors, in fact. It is a great manner to learn of local happenings, and I was hoping to pick something up that might be of interest. ”

“ And ruins were mentioned, as I recall, ” She takes a moment, more to pretend to recall than to plan her next words, though to bet on both his fears seems both an obvious choice and the only right option. “ Some terrible place, not too far from here. ” Leaning closer, Alisaie adopts the conspiratorial tone of one sharing important, albeit sensitive, information ( and does her best not to laugh ). “ The stories I heard mentioned the lower levels being filled with water in a flood of sorts -- and the unfortunate souls of those who drowned are said to still dwell there, haunting the place forevermore. ”  

@cmno​: ❝ estinien... ❞  name  is  spoken  thoughtfully,  fingers  curled  underneath  chin  /  alphinaud  tips  his  head  slowly.  he  has  had  something  on  his  mind.   ❝ you've  been  in  a  lot  of  &  deep,  dark  caves?  perhap,  ruins?  did  you  perchance...  see  anything  strange? ❞  realizing  how  ridiculous  that  must  sound,  alphinaud  waves  both  hands  quickly.   ❝ don't  be  mistaken,  it's  not  i  that  is  curious,  it's  just-  well... ❞  

    𝐁𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.  Odd  as  they  are,  seemingly  senseless  as  they  are,  such  thoughts  that  spring  forth  from  a  youth  still  tethered  to  the  realm  of  childlike  whimsy.  He  supposes  to  a  mind  as  sharp  and  astute  as  Alphinaud’s  that  his  question  is  reasonable.  Mayhap  it  is,  should  he  at  last  connect  the  threads  that  would  chart  the  way  to  his  meaning.  He  waits  for  the  rest  of  it  to  come  with  little  judgement  to  his  countenance.  To  harry  him  is  to  fluster  the  boy  so  that  all  thoughts  wound  themselves  to  a  tangled  mess,  making  matters  all  the  worse.  And  he’s  picked  through  such  threads  enough  times  since  their  reunion  to  know  that  tender  feelings  and  a  bruised  ego  may  very  well  be  what’s  to  come  if  he’s  not  delicate  in  how  he’s  to  handles  matters.  

        Though  ‘twould  seem  he’s  too  little  too  late  in  his  hopes  of  allowing  the  boy  to  guide  himself  through  the  labyrinthine  halls  of  his  mind,  having  already  worked  himself  into  a  right  state.  Thus  would  this  need  a  more  sure  and  steady  hand.  Such  has  been  his  lot  since  setting  forth  on  this  venture  with  the  Scions.  He’d  expected  the  fighting  and  for  death  to  flit  about  at  his  side  as  an  inconstant  companion,  what  he  hadn’t  foreseen  was  his  role  as  a  guardian  of  sorts  to  the  twins  when  he  should  have  had  such  foresight.

    Had  that  not  been  their  roles  on  their  but  brief  time  spent  together  through  the  wilderness  of  Dravania?  He,  the  guiding  hand  that’d  taken  a  lost  and  broken  boy  close  and  through  his  taciturn  teachings,  spurred  him  to  the  path  of  recovery?  No  healer  had  he  been  and  never  will  be,  yet  he’d  watched  with  growing  pride  to  see  Alphinaud  mend  the  pieces  of  himself  together  and  grow  all  the  stronger  for  his  tribulations.  

ZENOS  monotony in shades of flickering grey. quiet subtleties,.. nought but the taste of prey to bring alive a landscape without purpose or cause. the grey of ashes on the tongue, the colourlessness of dust in the eye. what is death if not a justifiable absence of meaning?

    the only spark, then, this--

          dark skin & bright hair / yes. a black & white - this time, congruent in their depiction of a contrast so stark that the senses fissure. a few times the attempt was made to banish a sensation that breeds simple-mindedness at the cost of all else; in the name of practise. of mastery of the self. interest has always had to be feigned. the mind plays tricks on itself to survive.

if this indeed be an illusion, ‘tis a splendid one.

languid is the flick of blonde across blue. proximity grates like nothing else, chafes into the senses & widens the cracks to tear deeper. & so there is no reason not to dip, low - into the welcoming gift of insanity’s prelude. a sampling alone, as though orchid knows how to contain the magnitude of his capacity for maddening lesser souls- ( is he lesser..? ) absolutely not. pink passes along the flatline of his lips. ...but it appears he must prove this. how refreshing; to be able to lose-! to be able to stand abreast of one alike.

blue on the pale of another’s eyes. large, somehow a sweetness to behold. odd. there is pleasure in the littlest parts of this being - could he not teach the world to be a trove? alas. that is a lost cause.

this, then, his gift: breath & voice in caress to another sense. goose flesh radiates down the jump of his pulse & the curve of his spine. ah. ahhh...

“...repeat yourself.”

&. 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬. // always accepting memes!

He is seldom so direct ( or sincere ), and she finds it difficult to face without embarrassment, face reddening and gaze cast down momentarily. Thancred’s place in her life had ever been peculiar -- close, but not too close, coming and going as he saw fit while ever retaining his place as one of those most important in her eyes. There is no newness in what he says, not truly ( not coming from he, who had sought to protect her when her father died; who had put her on this path, albeit indirectly, when he led her to Louisoix’s guidance; who had even given her this name, now made hers after years of use ); it is that he says it, more so than the words, which makes her gaze gentle and demeanor shy. 

“ Thancred... I know, ” Just as she hoped he knew how much she cared for him also. Though the words may have been arrogant said in a different tone, she is far too softspoken for it to come across as that ( his concern is not taken for granted; she knows because of the bond they share, and she values his drive to protect more so than either of them had ever acknowledged properly ). Still, ‘twas hardly his duty to keep watch over her or ensure her safety -- Minfilia knew full well that, albeit not a field fighter, her leadership of the Scions did not make her exactly safe, though that was a risk she had accepted long ago, when all she led had been the Path of Twelve. Thancred didn’t have to play the part of protector constantly, when he himself was so frequently in harm’s way. “ And you know I feel the same towards you. ”

Wish for safety as they might, that had more often been the exception than the norm. The gift bequeathed to her by Hydaelyn had made her a target even before, blessing though it was; earlier than that, her father’s line of action had endangered them both. Thancred had known the streets, and that much Minfilia had been spared, yet danger had nevertheless been recurrent throughout her years in this star. “ Yet you know as well as I that my life has never been the safest, and I’m certain you have plenty to worry about without worrying about me. ”

      HE IS BUT A SHADE — oh, he is hythlodaeus; a recreation && nothing more. he is fervently aware of this fact. given this ability by none other than this dear to him man curling himself up upon his lap — vulnerable. he knows he’s lonely; why else would he have made all of this — or...perhaps, he does not know he is lonely, perhaps it is simply a part of emet-selch placed in him that makes him feel he knows this; for he is but a shade. 

      long fingers lower, hesitating along the form tucked away in robes — gently, they descend, caressing slowly && carefully as if holding a fragile shard of glass bound to break at a moment’s notice; hair brushed aside so cautiously yet lingering as a ghost. soft, gentle, caring as they have ever been before — that’s how he remembers them, yes ? if their heart were real, this sight would simply break it in twain; sundered into perfect pieces that cry out for someone so entirely dear to them. oh, but hythlodaeus was never one to stay quiet when ordered by him, was he ? && that smile rests upon his face; a fragment of the warmth the original always held, the ray of sunlight he would bask his dear friend with despite any teases pouring forth from his lips.

━━ ✦✦✦ @cmno​  :  emet selch, after staring pensively for many minutes, reaches out wordlessly to tuck hythlodaeus' hair back behind their ear. his touch lingers just a breath, before he pulls away, back to his writing.                             UNPROMPTED  ━━ always accepting !!

       HOW EASY IT IS TO BECOME LOST IN WORK — oh, but he can feel that stare  (  not that he would draw attention to it yet — they know when to tease && when to let eyes linger for the right moment; too short && the tease just isn’t quite as fun  ). && yet they become the fool in this moment; unspoken upper hand taken in flustering them instead of the other way around.

      surprise gains hold over his features, bright violet eyes glance at him, scanning him as a light rose begins its decent upon his cheeks with the way their hair is tucked away so gently — how something as simple as a carelessly forgotten strand of hair could cause such a downfall in his core now stained with vibrant warmth  (  or was it a skip ? a beat lost to the moment in time it took for those fingers to stay lingering for what felt an eternity ). && yet they simply can’t help themself — smile regains its place upon their lips after a moment, glancing away back toward their own work.

BROTHER // always accepting!!! @cmno

It is cold. Unbearably so. But that had been only part of the reason for her to slowly get closer, despite initially sitting at some distance from where Alphinaud had settled. Now, they had been side by side for a while, waiting ( an eternity, for someone as unused to inaction as Alisaie ) as they had been instructed to. Trust the Warrior of Light as she did, it was difficult to acquiesce and not attempt an escape; difficult to simply wait until rescue came in some form -- and the biting cold did not make it any easier, and the time that stretched and seemed endless did not make it more bearable.

Without her brother, she isn’t sure she would have managed. He is calm, as usual; the first to comply, as usual. Those are not begrudging thoughts, however; where they may have been once, she is capable enough to understand now her temper does get the best of her at times, that following his lead, difficult though it may be, isn’t always the worst choice. It doesn’t hurt to drag him into action sometimes -- nevertheless, she has learned it can be just as beneficial to let his calm dictate the pace, sometimes. 

It doesn’t make Alisaie less restless ( moving her feet, her legs, fidgeting with her clothes, never entirely still ), but company is enough to make her endure. It had been a long time since they were last just... them. Capable of talking so openly, or to remain so close without a fight or disagreement of some form, and without the company of the others nearby. Back home, even at her most lonely, when grandfather left, and later Urianger, she still had Alphinaud. True as it was that in Eorzea she had chosen to walk a path her own, Alisaie had never truly resented her brother more than she loved him. And now, stuck in a cell in freezing Garlemald, beyond even the reach of their friends, she was glad to at least have Alphinaud beside her.

The truth, though, is that regardless of words exchanged, sincere as they were, when he breaks silence once more she lifts her head from her twin’s shoulder, staring at him with a more surprised look than it perhaps ought to be. Soon enough, expression softens and Alisaie returns to her previous position, head once more resting upon her brother’s shoulder, the feeling within her heart warm despite the outside cold. Words don’t come to her as easily, most of the time, and silence lingers for a moment as she tries to find a fitting answer -- that, in true Alisaie fashion, cannot be anything other than honest. “ ... I did not think so before, least of all when we first arrived on Eorzea, ” He had often seemed dismissive, back then, so certain in his way of doing things. “ But even after, well... most of the time you always seemed to be one step ahead, as it had been for all our lives. So very clever and well-spoken, utterly well-behaved --- you made it really hard to be your sister, sometimes. ”

— @cmno​:  ❛ please don’t ever become a stranger. ❜ post ew, from alphinaud? :3 / platonic sentence starters.

“ do you truly think you won’t hear from me again? ” a smile and a hand offered to the elezen they’ve chosen as kin — a sibling in all but blood at this point. “ i expect to hear frequently of all the things you get up to, and i will always make time for you should you call for me, and even if you don’t. ” 

family is a strange notion for them — they never believed they would truly let anyone close again, and yet alphinaud has made a space for himself within avery’s life. the battles and trials they’ve faced and have come out the other side of have only strengthened the bond until even the thought of becoming strangers once more makes something ache fiercely in their chest.