The young Elezen boy sat on his bed, arms crossed over his chest. On his lap sat a block of wood and a small knife. He stared down at it, then up at an Elezen woman standing beside the bed.
“Don’t give me that look, young man,” she said as she stared down at him, hands on her hips. “You got yourself into this.” She motioned to his leg, broken and set in a splint, propped on the bed in front of him. “You can either read your books or you can try this. Pick one.”
His lip jutted out in a huge pout, but he eventually reached out to grab the block of wood and the small knife, holding one in each hand. “So what am I supposed to do with these?” he demanded, looking up at her.
She had a patient look on her face as she released her breath in a small, steady sigh through her nose as she sat down on the side of his bed. She reached over for a small knife and a block of wood of her own from the bedside table. “This is a whittling knife,” she explained as she held it up. She turned a bit more toward him so that he could watch her begin to stick the blade into the block. “You use it to carve this. Watch.”
Lionnellais’ lip continued to jut out, though ever so slowly it began to retract back and his eyes widened in fascination as he watched wood shavings begin to fall down into her lap. The shape of a flower was beginning to form from the wood as she carved the outline of it out, and slowly it began to have a more defined shape as she carved the pieces out.
“How do you…” His voice was hushed in awe as he looked down at the block in his hand and the knife in the other.
“Give it a try,” she suggested gently, smiling at him. “Even if you mess up, I have more wood in the other room I can bring you.”
He stared down at the wood, then glanced at his mother’s hand to see how she was holding the knife. He moved his hand to copy hers, pressing the blade into the wood. It was harder than he thought, and he struggled with it for a moment. He broke a small chunk off and made a sound of dismay.
“It’s alright, little star,” she whispered gently with a softer smile. “Keep going. Get a feel for it.”
His hands continued to try to work with the wood, breaking more pieces off. He eventually managed something like a small, four-petaled flower, and he seemed quite proud of his work thus far. Clarisse kept a watchful eye on him, continuing the work on her rose, forming it out of the block. His knife jutted into the wrong spot in a clumsy move and one of the petals flipped up into the air and away from him. He looked as if his heart fell into his stomach. His eyes welled with tears.
“Shhh, little star,” his mother whispered, brushing his hair out of his face to kissing his forehead. “You’re doing very well. Do you want me to get you another block?”
“Please,” he mumbled with a tiny hiccup.
She looked momentarily shocked, but she beamed down at him and nodded as she got up, setting her rose and the whittling knife on the bedside table. “Let me get it. One moment, little star.”
He watch after her, stabbing his knife into the wood a few times before he appeared to get an idea.
Clarisse returned with as many blocks as her arms could hold, sighing patiently when she saw what he was doing. “Don’t use the knife like that, Lionnellais, it could break off in the wood. Use it to carve, not stab.”
“But--” he tried to interject, going quiet as she gave him a look. Slowly, he offered the block over to her with his lip jutting out again in yet another pout. He looked up at her as her eyes caught sight of the block he was offering over, staring down at the words that had been messily ‘carved’ into the block. He look down at it, reading over them.
I love you
She stared in silence down at the block for a moment before she looked up at him. Her eyes seemed to sparkle just a little more. She blinked rapidly and then smiled down at him as she offered another block to him in exchange. “Thank you.”
Now a few summers older, Lionnellais sat on the couch, whittling away at a block of wood. So far, he had carved the front of an antelope out of the wood. He heard coughing coming from the kitchen area, glancing up from his work to watch as Clarisse stilled in her movements while cooking, coughing into a handkerchief.
His hands stilled completely as she continued to do so for a long while. “Mother?” he asked in concern as he began to stand, setting his items aside. “Mother, are you--”
“I’m alright,” she waved her hand dismissively. “You can go back to your carving.”
Lionnellais’ sharp green eyes didn’t miss the red spots on her handkerchief as she hastily shoved it into her pocket. “But Mother--”
“Lionnellais. Stop.” He stilled in his steps toward Clarisse, his eyebrows slowly knitting together. “Either study or return to your carving. Leave me be.”
Confused, he sank back down into his seat with a worried expression. He cautiously returned to his work, but every cough she made caused him to flinch and look up at her again.
He went back to his carving then, practicing his detail work and whittling wooden shavings away while she cooked.
His hands paused in the carving of the rose in his hands from what had once been a long block of wood. More wooden roses lay on the packed earth in front of him.
“Lionnellais, you’ve been here for bells. It’s time to go,” a man’s voice gently chided behind him.
He swallowed thickly, eyes blinking rapidly. “No,” Lionnellais mumbled, attempting to return to his detail work of the wooden flower in his hand.
“Lionnellais…” An older Elezen man knelt down beside him, one hand on his shoulder while the other swept his greying brown hair out of his face. “It’s time to leave. We should get back before the sun sets.”
“I’m not finished yet, Sylviel,” he hissed, trying to jerk his shoulder away from the mentor’s touch. He didn’t look at Sylviel as a couple tears fell from his red eyes. “Go away.”
Sylviel sighed patiently, and Lionnellais could see his head turning between the boy and the roses in front of him on the earth. Minutes passed before his voice broke the silence again, “How many more are you making?”
“Last one,” Lionnellais mumbled.
Sylviel didn’t move for a while, eventually sitting beside him. Lionnellais felt an arm slowly coming around his shoulders in a hug. Apparently tired of fighting, he slowly leaned against his teacher’s side as he worked. Eventually, he set the whittling knife down and placed the carved rose along with the rest of the wooden bouquet.
He moved away from Sylviel as he got up, gathering the roses into his hands to move them further up to rest in a small pile in front of a carved stone. His eyes lifted to read over Eorzean script chiseled into the surface.
Clarisse Esme Devereaux
“I think she likes the flowers,” Sylviel whispered to him as he stood. Lionnellais nodded numbly, picking up the final block of wood that remained. He began to whittle away at the wood as Sylviel put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on. I’ll make us something to eat.”
He went about his carving as Sylviel carefully guided him away, not looking up from the beginnings of the rose in in his hands.
As they walked together, Lionnellais whispered, “Sylviel…?”
“Hm? What is it?” The man looked down at the boy who suddenly looked much older than his thirteen summers.
“...I feel like...I feel like I’m walking a crag…” His footsteps slowed, and so did Sylviel’s. They stood together in the dusk of the sun, Sylviel searching Lionnellais’ face. “Please don’t let me fall…”
The mentor’s eyes softened and his arms wrapped around the boy as he began to cry again. “I’m not going anywhere. I won’t let you fall. I promise.”
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I don’t know if I can let it happen again.
Past experiences lead me to believe that no, I can’t. Perhaps some sun I may yet be healed enough, some sun the wound may have mended enough to try again.
I think the closest I can come to it again is the connection I am beginning to have with my brother. But even then, the feelings I have for him are distinct and unique, not what I once held for her. I’ve not felt the same for anyone else since, and likely never will.
Each relationship is different. Perhaps that’s true, where I may never feel the same for someone else as I once did for her. I should remember that, and not hold what we had up on some pedestal to compare others to. That doesn’t exactly sound fair to them, and certainly not to myself.
Regardless of this...my heart is a broken, sacred place. It will be difficult to let anyone in so far again. Some sun, I may yet try again. But I don’t know if I can let it happen again.
True, he may only be my godson, but I wondered if anything of myself would be passed onto him. He and his twin are an absolute delight to me.
It’s amazing for me to think that they’re already almost four. Where has the time gone? It feels as if it were only yestersun I swaddled them and rocked them to sleep in my arms. As they grow older, I see more of their father and mother in them with each passing sun. Something in my heart aches at the thought that I won’t leave an influence on him.
...and then I remember that his first word was ‘cookie.’
With a snicker and a satisfied smile at the memory, I go back to my carpentry work.
The Hyur looked up from where she was using a fork to break open a fresh meat pie, eyes focusing on Lionnellais. A pot of fresh lemon tea was steeping nearby that she had just delivered to the teacher’s home.
This was a common occurrence between the friends, where she would deliver tea in the early afternoons before Lionnellais slept and they would share tea and a meal.
“Oh, she’s good. I think. I haven’t seen her in a while, actually.” Lily smiled a bit sadly down at the meat pie, watching steam rise out of it. “She’s off treasure hunting or something.”
“Sending love letters too, I’ve heard,” Lionnellais grinned to her as he began to pour their tea into mugs.
Lily almost choked on her first bite of pie, “What!? Not to you, I hope?”
The Elezen burst into laughter as he pushed one of the mugs toward her. He began to put cube after cube of sugar into the hot tea as he replied, “Twelve, no. But I was watching my god children and one of their siblings mentioned a love letter, heh. I can only assume it was from her.”
Lily flopped onto the table for a moment, “I’m not ready for this. She’s not old enough.”
“What? She’s eighteen,” Lionnellais laughed. “She can do what she pleases. Or who she—”
“Lion!” The Midlander’s face was pressed against the table as he started laughing all over again.
“Speaking of love letters, any for you recently?” Lily asked as she sat up again, beginning to eat at her pie.
“Hrm? Me? Hah, you must have me mistaken for someone else. I don’t get those kinds of letters.” Lionnellais gave her an exasperated look.
“What about from that flower vendor you mentioned~?” Lily asked with a grin.
Lionnellais rolled his eyes, “Please. I don’t get those kinds of letters from them.”
Lily snickered as she ate at her pie, glancing over at his counter where at least fifteen more pies rested. “Why do you make so many? Do you share them with Zanin?”
“No, haha. He doesn’t eat them. If I want him to eat something I’ll make curry. But, it just saves me time. Make them every few suns and then not have to make anything for a while.”
“Oh. Yeah that makes sense.” Lily nodded.
“What about you? Any love letters for you?”
The Hyur shook her head, “No, not for me. Not since I broke off my engagement, hah. But I’m good.” She smiled over at him. “I don’t need anybody. I’ve got really good friends and I’ve got my brother again and Tyra.”
She beamed at him before focusing on her pie again. There was a few moments of silence between them as she ate and he sipped his tea. When she reached over for her tea, he spoke.
“I hope one sun that you’re as happy as you pretend to be.”
Lily paused, cup halfway to her mouth. She licked her lips, swallowing as she slowly lowered the mug to look across the table at Lionnellais. He was staring at her evenly with a sympathetic gaze.
Her lips parted to take in a breath to speak, but it caught in her throat and she looked away from him. Her fingers tightened around where they had been cradling her tea mug, eventually releasing a sigh when the threat of the sudden sob had faded.
“Yeah. Me too.”
His hand reached across the table and tested over hers around the mug. She looked up at him with a watery smile before the two returned to their tea.
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I tried to move my arms, but everything felt heavy, like something was weighing down my limbs. My eyes flew open at realizing that the bitter cold sensation stung across my entire body.
I strained to see my surroundings, even though I knew what I would see. Deep blue fading into black swallowing me. I had no memory of how I made it here, but it was quite clear what was happening to me now.
My lungs ached and burned as I kept my mouth closed, desperately focusing on not breathing in. A flash of a memory assaulted my mind, of flailing helplessly in the ocean, wave after wave crashing over me until I was completely submerged in the abyss. It was brighter then, but still just as smothering.
I felt the water rush around me as a wave moved overhead, returning me back to the present. On impulse, I opened my mouth to gasp, only to soon realize my mistake. I began to choke as the water filtered in, the biting cold leaking into my throat and catching my lungs on fire.
With a lethargic hand, I attempted to cover my mouth to hamper more water as my legs kicked weakly beneath me, attempting to propel toward the surface...or at least, what I hoped was the surface. It was too late for me, though.
The feeling of drowning was something I had almost forgotten, even though the experience had seared itself into my memory. My legs slowly stopped working. I could feel my heart pounding in my ears louder than the deafening silence of water around me.
I tried coughing and sputtering to expel the water from me, but all it did was invite more into the fray.
Suddenly, my arms worked again. I coughed and gasped, hand hitting something solid. My other found something soft and dug in for something to hold. The sounds of my hacking and wheezing filled my ears as I slowly returned back to myself.
My gaze found the darkened walls of my bedroom, the red sheets on my bed, the comforting carbuncle lamp softly glowing on my bedside table. Heart still pounding in my ears, I reached over to snatch a rock that was resting beside it.
I tried to steady my breathing, holding the rock against my forehead. “It was only a dream...only a dream…” I whispered roughly, grasping the rock tightly to my temple. Slowly, I opened my eyes and stared at the rock, at the faded painted eyes on the top. I traced my finger over them, finally able to take a deep, even breath.
I flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as I continued to hold the rock. It hadn’t been real...it had only been a dream. My hair was wet, though. A cold sweat from sleep, perhaps? Or had I truly been drowning?
With a shake of my head, I sat up in bed again, swinging my legs over the side to sit, staring down at the rock in the darkness. Was this real, or was I still dreaming? The rock in my hand felt quite real.
Clarisse stared down at the boy in front of her, her lips pressed into a thin, disappointed frown. Her hands rested upon her hips, frustrated gaze staring down at him.
“I’m very upset with you,” she scolded as she stared down at him.
His arms crossed over his chest, green eyes staring back up at her in defiance. “So? I’m proud of what I did.”
A brow ticked. “Proud?” Clarisse echoed. “Lionnellais, you punched another child in the face and broke his nose.”
“So?” He looked away, lips pouched out, shoulders slightly hunched.
“That is not how you treat other children. What would you do if someone were to punch you in the face? You wouldn’t like it, would you?”
He looked up at her then, eyes filled with how upset he was at the situation too, “Yeah, but Mother, he was—”
“I don’t care what he was saying or doing, you do not hit other people.”
“But Mother! He called Linny a stupid wi—”
“Lionnellais!” This time, her tone silenced her son and he looked away from her again. She could see his chin wobbling as he looked away from her. She sighed heavily, kneeling down in front of him to try and catch his eye. “I know they were making fun of your friend, but violence doesn’t solve anything, okay?”
She took his hands into hers, or tried to. He pushed her away and fought to keep his arms in their cross. A few tears fell. Her heart broke all over again. “I understand that his words hurt you and your friend, but don’t punch people. I want you to go to your room, and come back to me later when you can explain to me why it was wrong.”
With a sobbing huff, Lionnellais pushed away from her and ran to his room, slamming the door shut behind him.
With a heavy sigh, Clarisse stood again as she rubbed a hand over her face.
“So, where do you um, where do you live?”
Lionnellais listened politely to the question, smiling to the Roegadyn lass standing beside him at the bar. Lily sat on his other side at the bar, nursing a drink. “I live in the Lavender Beds, not far from here.”
“Oh? So close? Do you live there alone?”
The Elezen smiled to her, “Well, not exactly, I have a chocobo that’s lived with me for quite some time.”
The woman continued to smile at him, leaning a bit closer as she held her drink aloft, “I mean to ask, you are going home alone tonight? Or with someone from here...?”
“Yes, I will be going alone,” he replied to her. On his other side, Lily put her face in her hand, wiping it and then covering her mouth. She was pressing a smile behind her palm, holding her drink in her other hand.
“Oh? Is that so?” The Seawolf looked somewhat disappointed. “What do you do?”
“I teach children in the conjurer’s guild,” he replied to her as he held up his glass to the bartender to get another.
“Children? You like them?” She smiled brightly to him again, hopeful once more.
“I absolutely adore children.”
“Do you want some of your own?” At the question, on Lionnellais’ other side, Lily winced, her smile fading. She got the drink the bartender had put down for Lionnellais and gently touched it against his hand.
The Elezen’s smile remained polite as he looked to the Seawolf, saying kindly, “I tried. But the Mother Crystal has other things in store for me. Now, the conversation has been lovely, but could I return to my dinner, please?”
Crestfallen, the Roegadyn excused herself and returned to her table.
“She was flirting with you, you know that, yeah?” Lily asked him as he slammed back his drink, holding up the empty glass to the bartender again to get yet another. She looked at him in a bit of worry.
“I know. I’m not that thick, Lil. I’m simply too polite for my own good,” the Elezen sighed, returning to his food.
Lily put a hand on his shoulder and pat it a couple times. “Let’s finish eating and get home before you start becoming a huge flirt from the drinks, eh? I don’t need you trying to woo me.”
He laughed warmly, putting an arm around her in a hug before returning his focus to the food.
