#haurchefant readerinsert

Well, pray tell not the fact that you have a tail, since that would be absurd. It’s what you do with your tail when you look at him, smile that glorious grin upon Haurchefant like but a beam of warm sunshine briefly offering Camp Dragonhead a mercy from the oh-so-common cold, cloudy days.

It puffs up. Specifically speaking, it puffs up when you speak to him, often in the same breath as when you flick your eyes to the ground and smile that very smile you do so often without realization in his presence. It appears so soft to the touch on any normal day, but in those brief moments it looks but as soft as silk and as fluffy as a newborn karakul that it almost pains Haurchefant that he cannot simply reach out and stroke down the length of such a wondrous part of you.

Though the man didn’t completely understand the physiology of the Miqo’te tails, he certainly knew enough about people in general context to understand when something questionable is afoot–and he knew that there was something behind that little tell of yours.

As a man of observation, Haurchefant began to take note of things whenever you spared a moment to visit Camp Dragonhead. He paid close mind to when you interacted with others, if only to see if such a difference came to perception or if it was all but a silly man’s affections run amok in his own mind.

Though he certainly did well not to outright follow you from one conversation to another, Haurchefant did find it easy to excuse himself about the camp as was needed, especially since his close alliance with you was no secret–the two of you had helped one another plenty in the past, after all. A run-in here, a convenient meeting there, it didn’t take much for the Elezen to pull the strings how he needed to get but a cursory glance at your interactions with others.

You smiled often and spoke with liveliness to all who cared to listen to you, though that in itself was obvious to anyone who but heard rumor about you as a person let alone esteemed warrior of light. Haurchefant was not interested in such things when he knew they were not the evidence he sought near-desperately.

There were moments where your tail twitched or ears flicked, though what few times he noticed was largely when he had reason to believe you were getting agitated–he didn’t let those moments linger for very long of course. Let it always be known that Haurchefant would not tolerate any sort of discrimination to anyone who placed foot within Camp Dragonhead, be they Elezen, Miqo’te or otherwise; he made quick work of what few young and very ignorant initiates decided to test the tolerance held in Haurchefant’s warm heart.

For many times he watched you as you visited, sometimes with business in the snowy lands and other times to visit him personally (of which Haurchefant was always lost in his head like a lovesick schoolboy). Despite all the time he had to figure things out, he just couldn’t quite note a moment that your tail did quite the same thing as he was curious about–not a single time did it puff or fluff up in quite the same way, though there were a multitude of other things it did in otherwise staunch conversation.

In fact, Haurchefant came to realize there was a lot of meaning in but the simple movements of a tail or the softest flick of the ears when it came to the Miqo’te. So much did he realize was lost to him when talking to you, so many queues and nonverbal messages he had missed without realizing it.

The way you flick your tail when you’re shy, the way you pull back your ears when your nervous. Did you ever realize that, when you’re trying to answer a particularly hard conundrum, you wrap your tail around your own leg?

Haurchefant found it endearing. Just one more thing to add to the ever-growing list, something he could speak about until his very breath ran cold and his mind had long since moved on into senility.

But no matter the breadth of knowledge and appreciation gained, the several days of observation offered little insight towards answering the very question which begun the man’s internal questing. With several visits and seemingly no closer to the end, it became clear that the only way the Camp Dragonhead lord may gain such a perilous answer would be to do what he considered as last resort:

He could ask you directly.

It would be a risky choice, as Haurchefant didn’t want his personal quest to be revealed, lest he lose all the carefully collected data–as well as put himself in a horrible state of embarrassment should he be wrong in his assumption.

The very last thing he wanted was to tarnish the friendship he had forged with you.

He waited an extra couple days, allowed himself to build up a convincing reason to ask such an odd question if only so your suspicion wouldn’t be aroused. Though Haurchefant considered himself somewhat capable of smoothing over a lie, he doubted his ability to convince you that he had a distant Miqo’te relative, whether by blood or adoption. He had scarce contacts in the Black Shroud or La Noscea, but he could pull upon some familiar names tied to Ul’dah if explanation was needed…

Too complicated.

When the day finally came for him to ask, he didn’t honestly have much of a plan in motion. It certainly didn’t help that your next visit after his decision came quicker than he thought, leaving Haurchefant to scurry for words and actions mere moments before they happened in much akin to the same lovesick schoolboy he often considered himself to be around you.

He was lucky there was naught amiss, leaving you able to spend time with him privately and talking of simple things over a drink together.

“I hope you don’t find it a bother,” Haurchefant tried to keep his words casual, swirling the dark liquid in his glass. “But I had a question for you I’ve been hoping to ask. It deals with matters you may be best suited to answer, dealing with something of a Miqo’te habit I’m unlearned about.”

You blink, curiosity filling your gaze and smile as it pulls at the corners of your lips.

“I’m of the understanding that Miqo’te are rare in these parts; far too cold to be comfortable and far too cloudy for worship of any sort.”

“Oh no,” the man said, the lie already starting to drip gently from his lips. “It’s not for my personal interest.”

“Oh?”

“You see I have a dear friend of mine who has become quite taken with someone-”

You feel one of your brows perk.

“-a Miqo’te. The details are certainly of no import in the matter, but he has found himself besieged with a question he cannot answer. Though I’ve implored him to but ask himself, he seems resigned to never know the answer.”

Haurchefant grew confident with every word, feeling the story twist together in a neat little plait in which couldn’t be easily unraveled. Certainly he would be able to ask the question without worry of suspicion, especially since you seemed so politely quiet in wait for it yourself.

“You see, he’s noticed that whenever they’re together, his love’s tail seems to-” Haurchefant feigns in the search for the right word, hoping the lapse of memory would only give credence to the story. “Ah, what did he say? Oh! Puff, that’s right–he says his love’s tail puffs right up, like a blowfish of somesort if only such a creature was covered in fur instead of spines.”

He mulls over the words for a few moments extra before letting his eyes fall to you, watching your expression with care as he takes a sip from the glass in his hand.

It doesn’t fall from pensive thought, though he does take a prideful note of how your ears twitch, flicking as if like a bird’s wings aiding it to take flight, though for you it is simply to launch yourself into a series of thoughts.

Was that weird? Perhaps that one was a bit weird, even for him.

“Well, there could be a lot of reasons, but is there any specific time that it happens besides being together?”

“Well, he says it’s usually when he catches a smile or a giggle from his partner.”

You pondered on it for a few moments, tapping a finger lightly at your chin.

“Sounds like a tell to me,” you laughed after a moment, shrugging your shoulders casually. “Nothing beguiling about that, no more than you are Haurchefant, perchance did you know that you tend to bite at your lower lip when your nervous?”

The man blinked, suddenly realizing that he indeed had some of his lower lip between his teeth. He swiftly shifted his weight in the chair and tried to make the act look aloof, just making himself more comfortable in the moment is all.

“D-do go on, dear friend. I hope that whatever may be unsaid between he and his love, my friend has nothing to worry for?”

“Of course not!”

The exclamation was made with no shortage of amusement. You couldn’t hold in the laugh for more than a moment before your hands fly up to your lips and hide what little dignity you can from escaping in the resulting uproarious noise of humor.

Haurchefant merely looked at you, looking something between worried and confused.

“Some Miqo’te do that when they’re happy,” you finally relent, wanting not to torture the poor man. “Your friend has absolutely nothing to worry about, though I’d insist he’d as his partner himself for their specific thoughts on the matter. Likely it’s just how his partner tells him that they love him dearly.”

Haurchefant all but feels his heart stop in the moment, mind trying desperately to put the words together in the way his mind needs, answer yet before him to the question he so very much wanted to solve. He doesn’t have much of a chance to continue the conversation however as you suddenly feel a ring in your ear–your linkpearl, alerting you of a recall back to the Waking Sands for something that seems at least mildly urgent.

You relay this information quickly enough to the Elezen and begin to make your leave, thanking him generously for his time and drink.

“It is I who should be thanking you,” Haurchefant says, gesturing towards you with a mild flourish, as if but words alone can’t accurately describe the meaning. “There are few who would come to these cold, deary mountains to visit even a close friend; your company is always welcomed here with a warm fire and attentive company.”

His words make you smile, a familiar send-off that you’ve grown so accustomed to that it almost feels like leaving Camp Dragon head is akin to leaving home. You begin to make your leave from the room but stop just a few steps short of the door, turning your head around to catch Haurchefant’s gaze with your own.

“Oh, one more thing,” you say, smile tugging at your lips and an unmistakable fluff to your tail. “You could have simply asked me outright about my little tell. I am very much fond of you in kind, dearest Haurchefant, and I’d love to know you more.”