#serilait

((and one more with the Dads, though well before Karo was around at this point! ty Alyx for pushing me into this sappy prompt idea instead of some of the others that bounced around!))

Feophaux was atrocious at keeping a personal secret.  Other’s confidentiality, perfect.  Clients?  No one would ever even suspect a thing.  Seirlait’s deepest confessions–ironclad behind the perfect mask.  His own?  He felt that he screamed suspicion and subterfuge in such a way that whatever he was trying to hide was clear as day.

The rings in his pocket as a result almost burned.  He had had them less than a full day, the goldsmith in Ul’dah having presented his commission to him.  They were only to be in the city for another day–maybe two–before starting the long winding journey back to the Shroud.  The moment had to be perfect though–didn’t it?  All the tales talked about the perfect moment, the sublime feeling, knowing that it was right.  

They didn’t talk about the nerves nearly emptying out one’s stomach or the cold sweat that would break out whenever he thought about presenting the rings to his partner.  Seirlait wasn’t the most refined of men, but his heart was gentle, and his hands were kind.  They made a bit of an odd couple, the bookworm and the hunter, but no one could dispute their success with their little wagon of goods.  They didn’t have the gil that the merchants of the sultanate had, but they had more than enough to cover their expenses with enough left over to be comfortable and happy in their cottage in the woods.

The two bands were situated in his pants pocket, for that perfect moment–creating a bit of a distraction for him.  Feo kept slipping the rings on and off of his fingers, memorizing each engraved ilm.  They were fairly simple, bright silver bands, inlaid with a pale gold design.  The inside had their initials and Nald’thal’s symbol on one side and Menphina’s on the other.  

Being so distracted had its downfalls though, and Feo didn’t hear Seirlait arriving back in their inn room until his voice broke the silence, startling him out of his reverie.  

“Seir! I didn’t hear you come in!” Feo’s hand came out of his pocket in a rush, and with horror, he watched as one of the rings went flying onto the ornate carpet before settling at his love’s feet.  The hunter bent to scoop it up, having watched it’s trajectory, and looked at it with curiosity.  

“Feo–”  his green eyes had gotten wide, even as Feo had gone pale.  This was not how the tales described it going.  This was not–

“Feo,” Somehow Seir was directly in front of him, looking up with a gentle smile–the type he used to calm the chocobos when they were spooked.  He supposed a spooked chocobo was a good description of the way he felt at the moment, panic having set in.  Seir had taken his hands, the ring still pinched between two fingers.

“Is this what I think it is?” his voice had the slightest quiver to it, bringing Feo back to the present.  He opened his mouth to reply, no sound emerging, and instead nodded slowly.

Seir’s smile was like the sun–or at least what Feo could see of it before he was tackled with a bone crushing embrace.  Ah.  There was the part of the tales come to life.  His heart beat steadied as he was able to finally move, wrapping his arms around his love, burning his face into strawberry blonde hair.

“Is that a yes?” his voice raspy.  He pulled back just enough to look into Seir’s face once more, realizing they both had tears in their eyes.

“Of course!” Seir’s voice was equally as thick with emotion, pulling him down into a deep kiss.  Maybe it wasn’t like the tales after all–but he liked this writing of his own.