Remke Hyskel

"Apate," he said. "I am Pythis, of the Office of the Arbiter."

Whether it had been wise to capture her or not, it was done. If he wished for her to know him -- and he did, more than nothing else, save to know her -- he would school his being into something calmer. Digestible. The fear of the End had no home in this moment. Possibly, their only moment.

Alas, what he could not control was the intensity of his silver gaze. Like white flames, they burned in the darkness suffitting his brow.

His query paired with the fierceness in his eyes made her hesitate, but only for a moment. There was no harm in disclosing her place of work, though, she knew.

"A pleasure to meet you," she gave a polite nod. It wasn't entirely a pleasure, but there was no way to adjust the wording without seeming rude. "I am returning home from work just now. I am the first secretary at the Office of the Redeemer."

"So deftly do my words betray me." No. He would only come off as confused. Better to change the subject. "I would not drag you back to your place of labor. Let us not speak of it."

How selfish a man!

"Are you yet wakeful?" He thought better of himself. "No. I would not be so cruel as to keep you from necessary rest. My request is too much. Be on your way. I have calmed."

Where had his impartial practicality skittered off to?

"I am... anticipating a close friend's final rest. I'm sorry, I've frightened you." This is not how I wanted us to meet. "Pray, forgive me. These turns consume me."

Apate let out a soft exhale as the simplicity of the explanation settled over her.

"Apate," he said. "I am Pythis, of the Office of the Arbiter."

Whether it had been wise to capture her or not, it was done. If he wished for her to know him -- and he did, more than nothing else, save to know her -- he would school his being into something calmer. Digestible. The fear of the End had no home in this moment. Possibly, their only moment.

Alas, what he could not control was the intensity of his silver gaze. Like white flames, they burned in the darkness suffitting his brow.

Her forearm was slim enough that his hand encompassed it entirely around, and there were no thoughts to follow his actions. He, with tears finally fallen, was overcome with the immense release of that tension, a yawning chasm growing in its place...

As if outside himself, he noted the warmth of her skin. The pulse at her wrist. How her sleeve had slid away. This woman, whose name he was not privy to. He knew her. He did not know her at all.

"Will you stay a moment?"

His voice was low and tremulous, audibly burdened.

"I know I am no acquaintance to you. I only," he stammered, "wish not to be alone."

But then -- the question. Confusion furrowed her brow beneath her mask as she peeked one eye open --

Was he crying?! Was was wrong with this man?

Where had his impartial practicality skittered off to?

"I am... anticipating a close friend's final rest. I'm sorry, I've frightened you." This is not how I wanted us to meet. "Pray, forgive me. These turns consume me."

He stood under the direct glow of the moon, the planes of his face caressed in that cool light. His lashes brushed the tops of his cheeks, and, as much as any could guess, he was content.

He did not move. He hardly breathed. His robes, his braids, his hands at his sides, all hung lank.

In truth, this stiff tableau was a testament to surrender.

Yet, stubbornly, tension squeezed beneath his ribs, each beat of his heart like a bludgeoning fist. His affliction possessed of remarkable persistence.

His hope was a rotten beast, spurred by cursed foresight.

There were no guarantees! The details faded further with each trance, and, still -- he could feel it, chewing his heart into bruised pulp. The wheel of fate spun whether he watched it or not. It was inevitable. All things, no matter how great or powerful, must return to the star. So would their time be stolen.

A playful breeze startled him from paralysis.

How long had he loomed in that awkward junction between buildings? What had started as languorous curiosity now felt a thread pulled taut to snap. Each night since the third, he wondered: Perhaps, he had doomed himself, chasing a reality to which he was not physically attuned. Perhaps, it was better not to seek what he saw only once. Perhaps, it was never him.

It had been a productive day, which left her feeling at ease and satisfied. Now she need only stroll at a languid pace, take in the fresh air and return to...

Oh.

There was someone in the way. And he wasn't even wearing his mask!

Well, perhaps not quite so in the way, as much as he was in the middle of the path. Her steps slowed and she waited, a tad uncertain. Was he all right? Should she just go around...?

Her forearm was slim enough that his hand encompassed it entirely around, and there were no thoughts to follow his actions. He, with tears finally fallen, was overcome with the immense release of that tension, a yawning chasm growing in its place...

As if outside himself, he noted the warmth of her skin. The pulse at her wrist. How her sleeve had slid away. This woman, whose name he was not privy to. He knew her. He did not know her at all.

"Will you stay a moment?"

His voice was low and tremulous, audibly burdened.

"I know I am no acquaintance to you. I only," he stammered, "wish not to be alone."

MEIKO MOCHIKOKO

Meiko is gifted her private island by Tataru between 6.0 and 6.1 (as opposed to post-6.1), and eventually decides she wants to name it something close to Elpis II, similar to how she named her sailboat Amaurot. Elpis II or New Elpis doesn't quite sound right to her for an island name, however, so she ends up seeking out Erenville to ask what the plural of Elpis flowers are.

Elpae is the term he provides, and so she takes that for her island's name.

A'kihiko was, of course, offered a private island as well -- he was supposed to share it with Meiko -- but he politely declined, as he said he likely wouldn't have the time or attention span to properly maintain it. Of course, Meiko said he's always welcome to visit when he needs to get away. It as just as much his sanctuary as it is hers.

Upon discovering that the mammets on the island had blueprints available to build a tree house and other small abodes, Mei asked Remke ( @vieranbow ) if she would like to move to the island. This was mostly out of low-key paranoia considering all the danger Eorzea/the Scions/anyone Meiko cares about often faces. Remke agreed! She also went on to explain to Meiko that, per Viera tradition, this change of home would prompt her to change her surname as well.

So from post-Endwalker on, Remke Hyskel is known as Remke Elpae.

Meiko would eventually offer a place for her parents to live on Elpae for the same reason, but they prefer to use it as an occasional vacation home or sanctuary instead; they intend to die in Wadewick, is what they actually said. A bit grim, but understandable.