#iyna cauld

11. Sharing secrets with Iyna

“You know the worst thing?” Valdeaulin said, staring up at the shadowed ceiling. “I don’t want to kill him anymore.”

Iyna paused in her search for her clothes. Not the strangest post-coital conversation she had ever had, picking up where they had left off in their pre-bedroom argument. She went back to fishing for her stockings. “Could you, though, if you had to?”

She sensed his frown behind her. “Yes,” he finally replied, certain. “But I don’t think the bastard’s going to give me a reason to anymore. I don’t…want there to be a reason anymore.”

Iyna considered that, nodding once. “And that feels wrong, somehow?”

“Isn’t it?” He turned to his side, head propped on his hand, watching her collect her clothes.

“You’re telling me this because part of you hopes I’ll agree,” Iyna said gently. “You know I don’t like him, and still harbor hate for…everything. And you want your guilty feelings validated.”

Valdeaulin scowled in response.

“I can’t give you what you’re asking, Val. Because you’re making better progress than I am, concerning the changes in our world. The empire’s fall. The Black Wolf’s change of coat.”

He sighed and flopped onto his back again. “Perhaps I just needed to hear it.”

“Perhaps,” she agreed. It wouldn’t be the first time he had asked for her blunt opinion. She balled the bundle of her clothes under an arm, her boots hanging from her fingers, and headed for the wash while he continued contemplating.

--

29. Kisses when they're mad with C'oretta

When Zosisette’s lips went very thin and her frame stiffened, C’oretta knew she was in big trouble. Zoissette’s demeanor had shifted in a way that made the lab feel like midwinter on the highest peak of Abalathia’s Spine.

Which was far too cold for Ul’dahn Sun Seekers.

“Do you have any idea what could have happened if the calculations were slightly off?”

“Yes of course that would be bad but they weren’t because I—”

“Never! Show! Your! Work!” She didn’t yell and that was actually the worst part, the way the elezen sharply emphasized each word despite being so very quiet.

“No I know I don’t and I know it’s a problem we’ve talked about it before and I mean to fix it honest but I get distracted and anyway it’s all so obvious I really don’t know how anyone could mix up the levels the balance is—”

“C’oretta,” Zoissette sighed.

Oh this was so bad. Even Violet was hiding, peeking from behind the bench, snout snuffling as she looked from one to the other. If C’oretta got barred from the lab—again—that would suck for however long it lasted thanks to no work to do but also Violet would be sad because of lack of treats so there was really only one thing for it.

C’oretta sighed too. “OK I will sit down right now and write everything down even though it’s already too late I know that but I should have done it to begin with and we can avoid this in the future.”

“There’s also the matter of cleaning up this mess.”

“Of course I’ll do that first and then write it all down and you will hold me to it because you’re the best and really what else are we going to do today thanks to my carelessness!”

Zoissette’s brows drew in briefly, noting the shift but not sure what to make of it as she nodded, some of the ice thawing. “Right, well, glad that you’ve acknowledged—”

And now for the cherry. It didn’t matter that the other woman was over two fulms taller. “Of course and you’re the best Zoissette thanks so much for being a friend and teacher!” and C’oretta bounced up, managed a kiss on each of Zoissette’s cheeks, before bounding toward the closet for the safety and cleaning gear while her comrade stood and blinked in stunned confusion.

C’oretta was in the clear for another bell at least.

She really did need to start writing things down though cuz maybe some of this wasn’t so obvious to everyone else…

--

49. Caring for them when they're ill with Dark

It had been a long time since she had to clean up after Erick like this. Before, it would have been due to overdrinking and a hangover. Today, however…

“I’m not hungry,” he grumped, a bit of whine to his voice.

“It’s soup,” Dark said flatly. “And I will pour it down your throat if I must.”

He narrowed his eyes from where he sat propped in bed. She knew he believed her. “I can’t keep anything down.”

“Nothing solid, but you need hydration and nutrients. It’s an old recipe, meant for upset stomachs.”

“I want Meya,” he flopped back against his pillows, eyes to the ceiling. “She has a much better bedside manner.”

“Among other things,” Dark replied dryly, satisfied by the little smile that played on his lips. “But she’s not here, so drink your soup.”

He sighed, long-suffering, but finally complied, making a face as she sat, arms crossed, ensuring he finished the mug of broth, slowly.

After a nap, she held his hair and cleaned him up when he heaved into a ready bucket again, and then bullied him into a cup of tea before helping him to the commode.

She stayed all night, leaning back in an armchair, ready to respond when he needed help through every messy function this particularly nasty bug put him through, until his fever broke in the pre-dawn hours.

It was closer to mid-afternoon before he woke, ate a bowl of vegetable soup with toast, and sighed, feeling mostly like a person again, if in need of a shower.

So did Dark for that matter, bleary-eyed herself, but satisfied he was well enough to manage that on his own, getting up to leave as he collected what he needed to clean himself.

“Thanks, Dark,” he said quietly, not quite looking.

“Any time,” she replied, just as quiet, before slipping out.

--

15. Talking with Aeryn…

“So it’s pretty serious then,” Rashae said casually as she joined her sister on the roof. Radz-at-Han’s colors gleamed and lights sparkled on as the sun fell behind the Giantsgall Mountains.

Aeryn sighed, fiddling with the bracelet on her left wrist as they sat on the wall, legs dangling like when they were girls. “Yes,” she admitted. “We’re not quite…ready, for…”

Rashae raised a brow. “No? You live together, share a bed—don’t try to play innocent with me—what else is there? It seems simple—”

“Easy for you to say,” Aeryn snapped, then sucked in a breath and shook her head. “I’m sorry, it’s just…it’s not that easy. For either of us. For many reasons.”

“Reasons you have neglected to mention in those letters?” Rashae asked, watching over the city, unaffected by Aeryn’s outburst.

“I told you everything in my letters,” Aeryn said, still contrite. “Just…not every detail.”

Rashae smiled. “I long ago figured that out. Especially as my children have gotten old enough for the same trick. I never wanted to push your privacy, and was happy to give what advice I could. I couldn’t even imagine some of what you described, and how you must have felt. Must still feel.”

“We’re working on it,” Aeryn said. “And we’ll get there. In our time, at our pace. We need to sort of…ease into it, I suppose.”

“My impetuous, impatient little sister, taking her time and consideration with something? It must be very important,” Rashae answered, not quite teasing. Her hand rested on Aeryn’s and squeezed. “And it will be worth it.”

“I like to think so.”

“Papa likes Thancred. So do Kai and Mirvah. Even the Grandmothers. And he of course won the children over quite easily.”

“He is a charmer,” Aeryn said, warmth filling her. She glanced at Rashae. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’ve liked him for years,” she answered blithely. “Your descriptions, your sketches, all brought him to life. It was obvious how he made you feel, even when—especially when—you were upset about things with him.”

Aeryn let out a breath she had been holding.

“My husband still thinks he’s a rake.”

Aeryn laughed. “Well. He’s not entirely wrong, though Thancred’s rakish days are behind him.” She leaned over, resting her head on Rashae’s shoulder. Rashae’s head tilted against hers. “Please don’t let the Grandmothers plan a giant wedding for me.”

“Heavens forfend,” Rashae answered, giving Aeryn’s hand another squeeze. “With everything you’ve done and everyone you know, the guest list would be obscene and frankly impossible. If anything, you should elope and we sort it out later.”

“Take after your example?” Aeryn grinned.

“For different reasons, of course, but as I still breathe, you can rest assured forgiveness works far better than permission. And you don’t have to deal with Nani Shaila, even.”

Aeryn shivered. “I’ll have to leave an offering for her memory, lest she haunt me anyway.”

“That would be safest,” Rashae agreed.

The heat of the day lingered, the humidity and their closeness causing a drop of perspiration to slide down Aeryn’s spine. But she didn’t want to move, didn’t want to lose this closeness, the familiarity of Rashae’s scent and touch filling a years-long craving Aeryn had pushed so far down she’d nearly forgotten it. Her elder step-sister had always been a comfort and shelter, one Aeryn had missed terribly. One she had needed so many times, but all she could do was write.

“I shouldn’t have stayed away so long.” Her vision blurred as a stinging heat that had nothing to do with Thavnair’s weather filled her face.

“You’re here now,” Rashae said, wrapping her arms around Aeryn. “And when you’ve finished this latest adventure, when you and your man finally define your future together…I’ll still be here, when you need me. But it would be nice to have more than letters a tad more frequently.”

Aeryn tried to laugh sheepishly, but it came out as a sob. Years of adventures, of triumph and hardship, crashed into her at once.

Her sister held her, stroking her hair, singing gently, as the crescent moon rose overhead.

--

and maybe one you wish someone would've asked for but didn't.

(None of the others really pinged for the FF14 crew, but just for you, how about something from the original story and prompt 59 “a height difference”…)

They continued to walk, some of the garden beds held by low, broad retaining walls of smooth stone, giving Mevan an idea. August blinked as she stepped away from him, lifting her skirts just enough to bound to the top of the low wall. “Be careful—”

“I am,” Mevan said, smiling. “I’m still not as tall as you while up here!”

The top of her head was even with his eyeline now. He chuckled, shaking his head. “I see. Certainly a new perspective.” He kept hold of her hand, more to keep her steady. She kept hold of her skirt with her other, carefully walking along the top of the stone.

“Sometimes that’s what’s needed,” she said, remembering the times teachers in Zenith had repeated the words.

“Any insights from your new perspective?” August asked dryly.

“The ground is very far away and normal sized things seem much smaller,” Mevan answered.

He huffed out an almost sheepish laugh, looking away in that shy manner she was starting to recognize. “It does not seem so to me, but I am used to my height.”

“Maybe you should walk on your knees for a while.”

“I hardly think that would be useful.”

She shrugged. “You’re so used to being large, when was the last time you felt small?”

He was quiet for a moment, enough to make her peer at him. “You might be surprised,” he finally replied. Then shook his head, looking off to the side—his embarrassed expression. “Nevermind”

“No, I won’t,” she said. “I want to know. Was someone cruel?”

“Why, would you curse them?” he asked.

Mevan tossed her hair. “Maybe!” she declared. As he peered at her, she shook her head. “That’s a superstition, told by the fearful. Though I’m afraid I must admit there are nasty moments where I almost wish I could curse someone.”

“I can scarce imagine you in such a state.”

“I have my moments. But you’re trying to deflect.”

He frowned. “I said nevermind.”

She stopped, making him pause too. “Neither of us want this,” she said. “But if we must go through with it, we ought to talk to one another. Even about difficult things.”

He glowered at her. She pulled her hand away so she could put both on her hips, lifting her chin and meeting his piercing amber gaze—even if his expression made her want to leap off the wall and flee. It wasn’t that he was trying to frighten her; more that was just his typical fierce scowl. But she was a Spark of Zenith, and had studied under those who could change reality at their whims. One soldier, even if he was a fearsome giant of a man, was not going to intimidate her.

Especially if she did end up married to him.

They spent a rather long time like that, before August ground his jaw, then sighed, shoulders shrugging downward. He looked away again. “You are a stubborn witch, aren’t you?”

“And your brother wasn’t wrong to call you a stubborn bear,” she countered. “So perhaps we are well matched in that regard.”

“Hrmph.” He held out his hand again. She considered for a moment, then took it as they resumed walking, Mevan still upon the retaining wall. “I try to keep my own counsel,” August said finally. “To avoid others noticing how…awkward I can be, in most situations.”

“You haven’t struck me as awkward,” she replied.

“It’s kind of you to say so. And I have…practiced, quite a bit. But often, my size and voice and ability to command covers much.”

“I see,” she said. “That’s why you dislike large groups of people, then? Afraid they might notice?”

“I don’t fear them,” he said testily. “But I do not wish to embarrass my House by merely speaking incorrectly, according to arbitrary rules that constantly shift. And they are simply too much; too many smells, too many sounds. It’s grating.”

The soldiers nearest to her fell, cries cut short and blood spurting, arrows protruding from their necks and torsos. The squad reacted, turning to the new threat.

"More of her rebel friends!"

But she did not know these people; she had been on a solo mission to destroy this depot, her last cell dead and none willing to work with her--not with her strange visions of others' pasts.

Still, the sudden appearance of others unfroze her, and she lifted her gun and fired.

The battle was quickly finished, and the rebels dispersed into the depot to complete their work. Their leader, however, walked up to Iyna, her eyes wide at the sight of another Viera. The woman wore filigree armor, her thick white hair hanging long down her back, and her sharp red eyes raking over Iyna.

She was more threatening than the Garleans had been.

"Didn't know anyone else was operating here," the other Viera said.

Iyna shook her head. "It's just me."

The Viera's brows raised. "Working alone? No wonder you were in such a tight spot." Her long ears twitched and she looked toward the road. Iyna heard it too; the faint, tell-tale sounds of vehicles on the way. "We need to move; there's room, if you want to join us."

Iyna was certain the woman didn't just mean to leave the depot, but she nodded. "If you've got an extract plan, I'll take it. I...didn't really," she looked away.

The Viera studied her a moment, even as she called to her team. "I'm Fran," she finally said to Iyna. "General of Lente's Tears."

"Iyna. Not of anything," she replied as she followed the group through the ruined fence. Behind them, the depot exploded into a brilliant plume of fire and smoke, the incoming vehicles screeching to a halt outside the gate on the opposite side. "Thanks for the help." Her own plan to disable the depot had been terribly incomplete.

Somewhat on purpose, if she was being honest.

Fran's slight smile was feral. "You're welcome. Let's go--and maybe we can talk about making you a talented operative of somewhere again."