#unviator

Not peacefully— only the suffocating silence that surrounds ruin in its wake. The kind that settles over broken stone & blood-stained ground. It's a disturbed silence.

Despite it all, Zenos marveled at the sight. His Warrior of Light, soaked in his ruin.

The Warrior of Light lay beneath him, weapon knocked out of reach, his grip firm around her wrists as he holds her against the cold earth. There was no triumph in his expression, no satisfactory from a war far yet won.

No...

His gaze burned with something far more dangerous.

"I've waited for this for so, so long, my wretched warrior of Light. You've kept me waiting."

( unprompted / always accepting !! )

her gaze colours with righteous fury; an anger so deep and visceral that it would frighten her if she were in any other situation but this. she thought she was stronger now. she was supposed to be stronger now, so why can't she send this man — and all his years of torment and terror — to the aetherial sea? zenos' grip on her wrists are a vise she can't shake. her grimoire, knocked several fulms away.

every bone in her body begs for rest, but iphenne knows if she gives into that exhaustion now — if she allows zenos to see the crack in her armour — it will doom her and the rest of eorzea, too. she will kill him before she allows that to happen.

the copper taste of blood coats her tongue. iphenne's expression morphs. and then, she spits.

directly into his face.

( unprompted stuff / always accepting !! )

           𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘  𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐄  𝐎𝐅  𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋  𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃  𝐎𝐍  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄  𝐎𝐅  𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄  𝐀𝐍𝐃  𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆;  her  rage  had  morphed  into  a  thing  unrecognisable  and  unlike  herself  in  the  face  of  this  man.  If  he  was  a  man  at  all.  More  often,  she  likened  Zenos  to  a  beast;  operating  by  a  predator's  instinct  and  nothing  more.  Perhaps  what  he  truly  was,  was  a  monster.  Once  she  put  him  in  the  ground  for  good,  his  face  would  be  the  one  described  to  ill-behaved  children  as  the  oil  lamps  dimmed  out.  Not  beastmen  or  Primals.  A  nightmare  that  stretched  on  for  longer  than  it  needed  to,  but  nothing  more.  One  day,  all  of  Eorzea  would  wake  from  this  sleep  of  death  and  war.  They  would,  again,  greet  the  day  and  be  glad.

            Her  breaths  were  measured,  even  as  every  part  of  her  begged  to  tear  into  him  with  nails  and  teeth  and  sharpened  steel.  But  she  had  learned  her  lesson  and  licked  her  wounds.  She'd  retreated  from  Rhalgr's  Reach  with  her  body  torn  open  and  weeping  life's  ichor,  her  pride  in  shreds.  She  would  not  make  such  mistakes  again.  Zenos  was  not  someone  she  could  defeat  on  brute  strength  alone.  She  would  need  wit  and  cunning,  too.

            Now  was  not  the  time  to  fight  him.  Not  when  he  was  this  close,  just  ilms  away.  Not  when  she  was  cornered  and  without  companions.  Even  as  he  scrutinised  her,  drinking  in  her  features  with  a  look  in  his  eye  she  could  not  —  or  perhaps  would  not  —  decipher,  Iphenne  did  not  reach  for  her  blade.  Did  not  reach  for  her  grimoire.

            ❝   Have  you  seen  enough?   ❞  Iphenne's  tone  was  strained,  but  even.  Ground  out  between  clenched  teeth.  She  would  not  bow  to  whatever  sick  fantasy  he'd  dreamt  up  about  this  hunt  of  his.  Nor  would  she  quail  under  the  intensity  of  his  presence.  ❝    You  may  find  it  difficult  to  understand,  but  my  days  do  not  revolve  around  you  and  your  petty  whims.   ❞

            You  are  nothing  to  me,  she  wanted  to  add.  But  didn't.

( fantasy romance & spice / @unviator / accepting !! )

𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄. Her vaunted strength is the pedestal for which she is put on above all others. Iphenne takes no glory in this. Though pride pricks her heart to a fault, she doesn't consider herself above anyone else. She is just one woman, carrying the weight of hope of the billions of people in Eorzea upon her shoulders. Everyone has their eyes set upon her. Why would Zenos be any different?

Yet, his is a predatory gaze. He sees her as little more than something to be challenged, beaten, broken down. A carnal means to a carnal end. He is a man possessed, of singular focus in his quest for transcendental bliss. Iphenne fights him; tooth and nail, blood and sinew at every turn. But she cannot deny the draw he belies. The pull she feels whenever they clash. Like a moth to an incendiary flame that is sure to be her demise, Iphenne must contend with the notion that there is more between them than this unspoken contest. There always has been.

It terrifies her if she thinks about it too much.

❝ How d— ❞ A pause, simmering. How dare he. How dare he! She balks, bristles, fumes beneath the surface. Blood rushes to her face, not because it's true ( she tells herself this again and again in hopes that she will believe it ), but because he has the gall to say it. He is attractive, she will not deny that. Blond and blue-eyed, tall and broad-shouldered. If fate had been kinder, in another lifetime perhaps...

Iphenne shakes the thought away before it goes too far. She should not be entertaining such dangerous things in relation to the enemy. Rather, she chooses to fix her steeled gaze on him once more. Her arms cross, defensive and self-preserving. It is as though she is silently challenging him.

𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙖 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧, 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙮 . ↳ a zenos/iphenne playlist for @unviator

( unprompted asks / always accepting !! )

𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐃𝐎𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄. Relentless in his pursuit for something she could barely comprehend ( there was no glory in bloodshed, no satisfaction in violence ). She couldn't shake him no matter how far she travelled or how fiercely she fought against him.

Zenos was always there — a shadow, a ghost — haunting her every waking moment.

Her feet dug into the dirt, bearing all her weight against his unyielding assault. Adrenaline was a drug in her veins, causing her pulse to ring heavy in her own ears. They had done this dance before. They would do it again. He would push her to her limits and then beyond them, testing Iphenne's very will, and she hated him for it.

( there was no glory in bloodshed, no satisfaction in violence )

For a moment, the world stilled. Iron crossed with iron, palatial blue staring into burning orange. In all of their encounters, she had surmised that there was nothing behind those eyes but a hollow emptiness devoid of humanity. That was not what she saw now. His gaze sparked with something feral and predatory — dangerously interested. And it was directed at her. Iphenne did not cower from it, even as a shiver of unease skittered up her spine and set off a warning bell in her mind.

Iphenne threw her weight into him, a snarl ripping from her throat as she channelled all her strength into knocking him backwards. Her eyes were wild, her hair flying; beautiful and deadly.

( there was no glory in bloodshed, no satisfaction in violence )

Their blades crossed again and again, Iphenne attacking him with a renewed fervour. Hydaelyn's Chosen. Eikon Slayer. Warrior of Light. She was a force of nature that Halone would have been proud of. When Iphenne finally managed to land a blow, she bared her own teeth in triumph. It was only a single, thin line sliced across his cheek. But the sight of droplets of blood rising to the surface had never made her feel more victorious. She would defeat Zenos — one day — and it would herald a new beginning.

( there was no glory in bloodshed, no satisfaction in violence )