30 Day WoL Challenge 11: Pillow
It was raining. It had been raining for three days. The other denizens of House Fortemps told them it was a good sign; surely, it meant the Furyâs mercy and the end of the Dragonsong War would lead to a thaw. All over Ishgard, Rita knew people were looking hopefully at the remnants of their years-out-of-date spring wardrobes and planning a resurrection. The general mood ranged from cautiously optimistic to outright giddy joy.
The Scions currently occupying Fortemps Manor hated it. The only one expressing any sort of cheer was Gantsetseg, and that was because the dampness was good for her scales. Yâshtola and Eirkâaâs tails flattened miserably in the wet, and the twinsâ hair had grown absolutely unmanageable outside of their customary braids. Rita woke every day feeling like her skull had been filled with cotton wool and her bones with lead; her own hair, evidently emboldened by the moisture in the air, had only been tamed by arranging it into a loose braid and ruthlessly pinning it up off the back of her neck.
And yet, because clearly she was some sort of masochist, she persisted in trying to read. In her defense, Emmanellain and Honoroit had just returned from their first trip to OkâGundu without her hovering to smooth over any diplomatic incidents, and Honoroit had taken exhaustive notes heâd wanted looked over by (in his words) a less biased party. So she took his notebook and curled up in one of the libraryâs window seats, trying to ignore the dull throbbing in her head as she sank into the boyâs terse, clear prose.
âAh, there you are, old girl.â
Emmanellain. She sighed and turned a page, shifting over so he could squeeze onto the cushion next to her. âMm.â
âWell? How is it?â He sounded excited, which she couldnât blame him for; after a low-grade panic attack that had lasted the entire airship ride to the Blue Window, his first meeting with the Gundu tribe had ended with him utterly swarmed by the youngest hatchlings while a gaelicat napped on his shoulder. (She reflected that she may have caused that; she had rather talked up his prowess as a teacher somewhat to Sonu Vanu.)
She grunted something, and then realized that he probably wanted words. âItâs good.â
A warm arm slid around her shoulder, tugging her unresisting body against his side. She looked up to find him frowning thoughtfully down at her. âBe sure to correct the lad on my finer points, hm?â
She turned to rest her head on his shoulder, and couldnât help her smile. âYou mean you werenât chased screaming by a groundskeeper golem all the way back to OkâZundu?â
âI was not!â He huffed an indignant breath into her hair. âIt was only a malm or so.â
Humming in amusement, she returned to her reading. The rain drumming on the window and the steady thump of Emmâs heart under her ear settled into her soul like a contented cat, and she found her attention drifting. Maybe she could rest her eyes for a momentâŠ
By the time the notebook slid from her hands with a thump, she was already asleep.









