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paintedscales · 2 months

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Excerpt: Slow Dancing

Posting for the XIV Swap Discord's Prompt of the Day of 'Slow Dancing.'

Comes from an older work before I really started working on building Nomin's character. So...may feel off to what I present of her current iteration.

Originally written July 27, 2022.

When the gala came into full swing, Estinien had become the reclusive wallflower that he normally was when it came to scenarios involving multiple people. Nomin, on the other hand, had been all too happy to see both Alphinaud and Alisaie dressed to the nines, pulling the twins in for a more familial hug. As it stood, she felt more like a mother to the teens than a peer -- a proud mother of two teens who could fight and fend for themselves, as well as have their wit and knowledge put most scholars to shame.

The first dance between the former Scions was, of course, with G’raha Tia. The well-versed miqo’te who was all too eager to share a dance with Nomin when the subject was brought up. G’raha sported a rather fetching black suit with a red kerchief and some crystal blue accents embedded in gold to further accent and tie the look together. Their dance was bubbly and filled with a jovial kind of playfulness that the two complemented each other on.

Seamlessly, Nomin had taken the hand of Thancred, who had dressed himself nicely in a white suit with navy accents. The dance with Thancred was a little more slow -- intimate, even. Not in an uncomfortable way, though Nomin did feel a little awkward even if Thancred’s dance seemed elegant and well-practiced. Must have come from his days as a ladies’ man -- or rather working covertly and playing his part to gather intel.

Soon came the time for Nomin to have been passed to someone else -- and who other than young Alphinaud to take up being her dance partner? For a blessing, Nomin had been able to witness Alphinaud execute his dance steps with aplomb. He was dressed in a faded blue suit with a white dress shirt underneath. It was apparent he put effort into dressing for the occasion.

Unfortunately, Alphinaud’s time was cut relatively short as Alisaie took an opportunity to cut in between them and take up Nomin’s hands within her own. She was dressed in a coral halter dress that ruffled out and allowed her freedom to move her legs -- ever so typical of Alisaie to even have something formal that could let her run if need be. However, Alisaie’s dance steps were a little more erratic with less direction. It seemed only one of the Leveilluers had paid attention to whatever dance lessons were held in their home.

Eventually, Nomin was finally passed on to Urianger, who was dressed more in formal robes befitting his role as an Astrologian. They were gorgeous, and the silk that Nomin felt was luxuriant under her fingertips. Unlike her previous dance partners, Urianger seemed a little out of sorts when he danced with Nomin, though through no fault of either of them. It seemed that Urianger’s time in his tomes and seeking of knowledge, he spared little time to dance, which led to some awkward steps. Nomin, however, giggled and told Urianger not to worry too much about it before they took to a more slow dance with one another that allowed for minimal leading of either of them.

With a gentle passing, and a soft and chivalrous kiss to the back of Nomin’s hand from Urianger, she was then passed on to Y’shtola. The miqo’te was very particular about how she did not dance, though she did anyway with Nomin in tow. Y’shtola was dressed in an elegant black dress, something that showcased the natural beauty of her that Nomin admittedly always found herself a little envious of. But to dance with her dressed so elegantly? Nomin was happy to know that both she and Y’shtola were perhaps two of the most beautiful dancers -- even if the dancing itself was poorly done.

After Nomin’s dance with Y’shtola did Estinien finally -- finally -- peel himself from the wall he had planted himself against to approach the pair. Of course, Y’shtola was all too happy to let someone else have a chance at dancing with the Xaela woman, and Nomin had brightened up significantly when she saw Estinien approach her. It was evident by the way Nomin’s tail flicked up with delight, and as she happily took up Estinien’s hand within her own.

“You looked to have been thoroughly enjoying yourself,” Estinien spoke, his voice loud enough for Nomin to hear. She smiled and scoffed, following Estinien’s lead as he danced intimately with her. They started slowly, and he was fine with that, it allowed him more time to gaze down upon Nomin and take in her appearance -- drink it in as if he would never see her again.

“Of course. So many of my best friends I made here in Eorzea are here, and I got to dance with them,” Nomin replied gently. She then gazed up at Estinien. “Of course… there’s also you. We’ve been here quite some time, granted, but it gladdens me that you actually showed up despite seemingly not really wanting to come.”

“If it means I can see you again, I suppose I can endure a little public humiliation…” Estinien said with a soft scoff.

“Is that what this is?” Nomin asked with a slight tease to her tone.

“Hmph…” Estinien’s typical demeanor shone through, keeping his thoughts to himself as he continued to lead the dance.

#xiv swap prompts #ffxiv #ffxiv writing #my writing #old #ffxiv oc #oc: nomin tal kheeriin #alphinaud leveilleur #alisaie leveilleur #urianger augurelt #y'shtola rhul #thancred waters #g'raha tia #estinien varlineau #estinien x wol #wolstinien #cinnamon ship

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watanabes-cum-dump · 4 months

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Idk what it is but like fanfics have really opened my eyes to Aymeric. Like in the MSQ I was like "Oh yeah I like him but idk I like Haurchefant more" but in the Dragonsong War questline + fanfics made me like him a lot. Like he's actually a prince I love him so very dearly. Plus he's yk actually alive so he has more fanfic potential (sorry Haurchefant you were my first love tho)

#like listen he's sooooo unbelievably handsome and prince like #has me kneeling and kicking my feet giggling and shit #i can't get into estinien tho #sorry estinien girlies i do not see the appeal #he's a lot more big brother shaped to me #maybe it's the daddy issues and the way estinien became softer and more welcoming of wol and alphinaud that got me #like yes i crave healthy older male figures #like even in that regard i like haurchefant x aymeric a lot #granted i love haurchefant a normal amount but idk the potential of little junior knight haurchefant and senpai aymeric???#yeah #also they're both ishgard's most hated bastard children i think they'd be close #actually i do wish their friendship was played up a lot more bc i think it would be really interesting for aymeric to realize that #thordan has to fucking go like you ordered one of your knights to kill the WOL and also MY FRIEND like #sorry i have a lot of thoughts #ffxiv #aymeric de borel #ffxiv aymeric #ff14 #heavensward

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shinennohane · 8 months

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Estinien's Fantasies

>>>Read on AO3<<<

#Alphinaud #Alphinaud Leveilleur #Alphinaud x Estinien #Estinaud #Estinien #Estinien Varlineau #Fan Fiction #FFXIV #FFXIV Fanfic #FFXIV Fanfiction #Final Fantasy XIV #Images #Links #My Fanfiction #My Post #My Writing #Text Post #Kinktober 2023

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2kitsuneao3 · 1 year

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Summary: Alphinaud and Estinien have been on the road for official ‘scion’ business for a while now; and, for the most part, everything has been fine. That is, until they come upon their first official lodgings together where they have to share a room - and an embarrassing secret Alphinaud has come to light.

Pairing: Alphinaud x Estinien

Tags: Aged up! Alphinaud, Alphinaud is 18, ‘The Growth’, Embarrassing secrets, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Mutual Masturbation, Hand- Jobs, Slight anal play, Happy ending, Not Beta read.

#ffxiv #alphinaud x estinien #alphinaud leveilleur #estinien wyrmblood

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cinnabun-faerie · 1 year

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Scions Reactions: Finding out the WoL already has a child

A/N: Jeez how long has it been since I even made a FFXIV post? Feels like it's been quite a while.

FFXIV taglist: @missnella-nova @shippyprincess @healersadjust @thai @lumeriadeborel @obscene-tevene @losingmymindinglitter @gudaworks @midromiell @kanouizumi3104 @msrussian

If you'd like to be added to the taglist, you can comment here on the original post !

Alisaie

She did not see that coming

after all, when she's met you, she wouldn't have known

only now, after recovering in Ishgard did she learn about it

regardless, she would want to protect your child as you protected her and Alphinaud

she felt as if she owed you that at least

Alphinaud

He was certainly not expecting that

this may just make your job a bit harder

are you sure you want to go through with it?

he could make sure there were accomidations for you and your child

Estinien

Well with feelings for you brewing inside of him, he'd be curious about your history

if you were comfortable, perhaps you would share stories of your past with him

He'd be curious if there was another parent in the picture

if not, he'd want to help you the best that he could

G'raha Tia

While he was curious about your story, he didn't dare to ask

he thought that he may seem rude if he asks

he would just wait until you tell him of your past and about your little family

honestly with you having a child, it didn't deter him from liking you any less

and he would love you and them both

he just hoped that you would love him too

Thancred

Of course he knew

he'd only been following you this whole time

no, he was not stalking

a gentleman like him surely wouldn't do that

anyways, if you were having your child accompany you, he would make sure that they were safe at all times

this later led to your child being both of your wing-person

something tells me that your child had been trying to get you together this whole time

Urianger

You were truly the spark that set his eyes ablaze right from the beginning

and he was intending to court you, though he (nor you) never confessed

and when you introduced him to your child, he was wondering if he had simply confused affections of love for that of companionship

"I know it might be sudden, but if there is to be anything between us, I wanted you to meet my child first. They are most important to me."

to this he was relieved, and was more than willing to still court you even though you already had a child

Y'shtola

It's not as if she didn't know

you had been with your child when she met you

as you were a parent & an upcoming warrior, she knew that your child and the Scions were in good hands

however, should your child need another, she was readily available

of course, that is if you'd like for her to be your partner

#ffxiv #ffxiv reactions #alisaie leveilleur #alphinaud leveilleur #estinien varlineau #g'raha tia #g'raha tia x reader #thancred waters #thancred x reader #urianger augurelt #urianger x reader #y'shtola rhul #y'shtola x reader

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grimdraaaws · 22 hours

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Estinien-niisan

#ff14 #ffxiv #final fantasy 14 #final fantasy xiv #estinien varlineau #estinien wyrmblood #alphinaud leveilleur #alisaie leveilleur #estinien x alphinaud #leveilleur twins #heavensward #endwalker spoilers

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teawithaphd · 2 years

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——Headcanons of the Scions on Pocky Day——

Alphinaud

Knows what it is and has had it marked on his calendar for months

He builds the courage to be the one to ask—on that fateful day—if his s/o would share a pocky stick with him

Despite his preparation and many weeks of practice in the mirror (which Alisaie has walked in on several times and holds against him to this day), he’s a blubbering mess when asking the question—red-faced, sweaty palms, stutters, and all

He blubbers even more when they agree to it and hold one of the sticks in their mouth to him

The first thing he tastes is cookies and cream, smiling at the fact that his s/o was kind enough to give him the more flavorful part. The next is his s/o’s sweet lips.

Alisaie

The moment she sees her s/o, she pulls the strawberry pocky box out of her pocket and shoves it in their face as she slips a stick between her teeth

She points to it with a little too much sternness, and can’t keep eye contact when her s/o decides to bite down on the other end

(Bonus points if her s/o doesn’t know what she’s doing, then she’ll groan and explain the game to them as her face grows red like a tomato)

After succeeding in getting their lips to meet, she swipes the box from them and runs away with it—hogging the rest of the pocky for herself

Thancred

He approaches his s/o with a flirtatious wink and an almond crush pocky between his lips like a hopeless romantic with a rose in his mouth

The ridiculous presentation brings them a giggle, and it makes his heart soar to see them with some lightness that the many dark times they’ve experienced would sometimes obscure

He lets his s/o get the flavored end while he bites down on the plain one, knowing that the taste of them is far sweeter than any confection he’ll ever have

As he starts out with bravado, at the last bite, he allows his s/o to close the distance

The pocky soon becomes a distant memory as he slowly leads them into the bedroom *wink wonk*

Urianger

He remembers one such occasion when Moenbryda had once tried playing the pocky game with him

Now having almost forgotten it (and having been too dim-witted to understand how to partake in it), when his s/o brings it up, he agrees wholeheartedly to give it a try

They bring him a yuzu-flavored box, knowing that he’ll probably enjoy it’s more citrusy, fresher taste (and to give him something different from all the carrots he’s been eating with the lopporits, Twelve help him)

He’s hesitant when they get down to the last bite, yet when he feels his s/o’s lips on his, he returns the kiss in full, savoring the moment of closeness between them

He grabs another pocky from the box and places it between his own lips, pleading them to play the game once more with him

Y’shtola

“Normally I am not wont to partake in such games…but if you insist…”

(spoiler alert: no one insisted)

“Ah, but you already went out of your way to purchase the confection, we surely cannot allow such confections to go to waste now…”

Her s/o stares at her dumbfounded with a box of matcha pocky in their pocket. Y’shtola already knows that they bought the matcha flavor, because of course they would conveniently purchase her favorite

She takes a stick and places it between her teeth, enjoying the bitter and sweet taste of the tea she’s grown a fondness for ever since they travelled to Kugane

The taste becomes even more marvelous as it mingles with that of her s/o

Estinien

He stares between the box, the pocky stick in his s/o’s mouth, and his s/o’s expectant expression with the most confused look on his face

“…What are you doing…?”

His s/o nearly spits the stick from laughing before explaining the pocky game to him

They also find that they have to explain to him what pocky is (has that man lived in a hole for most of his life…?)

After he finally understands, he casually agrees—sending his s/o blushing

They give him the flavored end of the pocky, wanting him to experience the chocolate-y flavor for the first time

As they reach the final bite, Estinien closes the distance—groaning into what turns into a deep, more sensual kiss

After leaving them utterly breathless, he suddenly pulls away and sends them the most smug, shit-eating grin they’ve ever seen on the elezen

“That was entertaining, we should do this again sometime...”

G’raha

He knows about the game from his Studium days, when some of the other students used to hide away and play it together

Back then, he’d secretly always wanted to partake in the game, but never got the chance to since he never grew close with anyone that way—but now with his s/o, he can!

They find a missive at their door signed by him, telling them to meet him at a secluded spot in Old Sharlayan, one where the two of them would often spend time together

When they meet him there, he turns to them with his face as red as his hair and stutters as he asks them if they’d like to partake in the Pockey game with him

He takes a milk-flavored pocky stick to his lips and shyly waits for his s/o to take the other end

Their lips soon meet, and he savors the sweet, mellow taste of milk and honey on his partner’s lips

The kiss is soft and shy—yet there’s something hidden, as if he sweetly wants for more as he hugs their form

They kiss again and again, feeling warmth under the beautiful Sharlayan skies

Bonus

Haucherfant (since it’s his day too)

He waits for his s/o to sit comfortably by his hearth that night before he pulls out the box with a playful wink

When they agree to play with him, he cups their chin and slips the stick of pocky between their lips

He’s quick to bite down on his end and make way to their lips before utterly devouring them

The taste of strawberries and rich chocolate on his tongue is a delectable combination, making his s/o beg for more as they return the heated kiss in kind

The box is long cast aside as the two indulge in a long, long night by the fire

WOL Panne Nini

(The Protagonist and profile picture for this blog, usually)

She twists her head and looks at the box in her s/o’s hands with confusion

When they explain to her the game and hold out a stick of pocky between their lips, she pulls it out of their mouth and takes a bite of it herself

Her s/o’s face reddens at her boldness as she takes the moment to taste the pocky

“It’s ok I guess, but I never liked sweets anyway… whatever.”

She throws it to the floor and leaps at her s/o to give them a heated kiss—she doesn’t need to go through the whole run-around for the real dessert

WOL Meteor-kun

(Because why not)

He approaches his s/o after one of his many long adventures, nearly killing them with how utterly haggard he looks, as if he ran into another fight with a primal, or worse, again..

When their gaze shifts to the box of chocolate pocky in one of his hands, their concern only grows as they wonder if he ended up like this through procuring it for them

He gives them a warm smile despite it all, showing them the box while telling them excitedly about his most recent discovery: the pocky game (it's really cute)

He then places a stick between his lips, waiting patiently for his s/o to take a bite of the other end

When they reach the final bite and their lips meet, their s/o giggles from the tickling of his stubble on their face

He peppers their face with more kisses until they're a laughing mess on the floor, overjoyed at the fact that he was able to see them smile

His s/o is just glad to see their beloved Warrior returned home, hale and whole

----See the Menu----

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dragons-bones · 2 years

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FFXIV Write Entry #30: The Long Road Home

Prompt: sojourn || Master Post || On AO3

A/N: Here we are, at the last. Spoilers for Endwalker. Warnings for blood, discussions of injury and pseudo-fantastical medical procedures. Immediate followup to “At the End of All Things.”

The Ragnarok dropped from hyperspace without even a shudder, and Livingway couldn’t help the grudging respect for the Sharlayan engineers who had built her. While teeny-tiny toy boat, it was a well-made teeny-tiny toy boat, that had withstood the forces exerted on it as it had hurtled to the edge of the universe and back.

Etheirys hung like a brilliant blue jewel against the black of space now, growing closer as Mappingway input their return trajectory. At this speed, the Ragnarok needed to do almost a full orbit before she was slow enough to land safely in Old Sharlayan.

Just slow enough. Any slower and…

“Godsdamned fucking ribcage, I can’t fucking reach—”

“I can, Healingway, move your hand now and—yes, I have it.”

“Someone crack open another aether syrup bottle! No, two, Alisaie one of those is for you—”

“I need more gauze!”

“Here, Thancred—”

Livingway resolutely did not look behind her, staring straight ahead at the viewscreen and ignoring every twitch and jerk of Mappingway and Sleepingway’s ears as the Scions and Healingway’s triage team frantically worked to save the Warriors of Light. Any slower and Hydaelyn’s chosen champions might lose precious seconds they desperately needed.

(Healingway was going to be absolutely intolerable later, when the danger was past, because she had been the one to bully her way onboard with her team right behind her carrying crates of supplies, despite Livingway’s huffing.)

“Ragnarok to Thaumazein, Ragnarok to Thaumazein,” Mappingway called over the comms.

A crackle of the aether-radio: “This is Thaumazein, we read you loud and clear, Ragnarok. Welcome home!”

“Thaumazein, transmitting our return trajectory now; ETA in Scholar’s Harbor is 1300 local time. Requesting immediate medical assistance upon arrival. I repeat, requesting immediate medical assistance upon arrival.”

Krile was at the head of the crowd with Tataru, the pair of lalafell sprinting forward with a tiny carbunclet each hanging from a shoulder, as the Ragnarok smoothly sliced through the waters of Scholar’s Harbor and towards the largest of the berths at the far end of the docks. Giddy relief surged through her; the strange double-sight of Sharlayan’s clear skies and the overlay of the burning heavens of the Final Days had faded to leave only blue behind, and she had dared not hope until linkpearl reports came in of the Ragnarok flying over Othard and Ilsabard and Eorzea. But hope now she did.

She and Tataru came to a stop at the edge of the pier, the Ragnarok gliding sedately into place. As they did, Amandina dropped from her shoulder all of a sudden, and Roksana from Tataru’s, the pearl carbunclets tumbling into one another and vanishing with a pop! of displaced air. Krile felt their pearls tingle on her wrist—Synnove had given the twins into hers and Tataru’s safe-keeping, foci stones and all, with strict instructions to head to Ishgard should the worst come to pass—and then the two returned. With a passenger.

Ser Aymeric, lacking his formal Lord Commander’s armor in favor of simple boots and breeches and a linen shirt beneath a doublet, stumbled a pace forward, dropping to one knee as he cradled the twin carbunclets in his arm. “Girls, we have had words with you about sudden teleportation,” he wheezed.

Sorry, Papa, Amandina squeaked.

It’s an emergency, Roksana added.

His head shot up, and Tataru and Krile’s both whipped around.

We gotta go, Amandina warbled, reaching up to press a carbuncle-kiss to Ser Aymeric’s cheek.

But we’ll be back! Roksana chittered, doing the same.

Take care of Mommy! they chorused, and then in a flash of blue-and-purple aether, they demanifested.

Ser Aymeric stared at where they had been in his arms just a moment ago. Tataru was slowly losing color in her face, and Krile felt the same, as her hands began to shake.

“Make way, make way! Healers coming through!”

Krile raised her head as a full company of city-guard pushed through the crowd, escorting a full complement of sages and conjurers and chirugeons, each wearing the sigil of the Sharlayan Medical Corp; a group of loporrits bull-rushed their way through just after them, pushing four long carts—mobile cots?—with multiple medkits and other boxes of supplies balanced on top of them. With the healers safely arrived, the guards turned towards herding back the crowd, calling for an order and creating a corridor back down the dock. Ameliance and Fourchenault ducked by them, but the guards gave them no notice; the Leveilleurs were beginning to look as worried as Krile felt.

She sprinted to the healers. “Master Healer,” she called to their leader; she didn’t recognize her, unfortunately. “What’s happening?”

“Ragnarok requested immediate medical attention upon arrival,” the Roegadyn woman said grimly. “I can confirm everyone is alive, but the Warriors of Light are in critical condition.” Krile closed her eyes, terror lancing through her even as Ser Aymeric gasped wetly behind her and Tataru cut off her horrified shriek. The healer continued, “Mistress Baldesion, I loathe having to ask, but I must request your assistance, in particular due to your familiarity with the medical histories of the Warriors of Light.”

Krile clasped her hands together in an attempt to stop their shaking. Oh, gods be good, please let this not be because of the decision she had made in allowing Zenos viator Galvus the chance to follow the Scions to Ultima Thule. “You need not ask, Master Healer,” she said. “Though I am glad I will not have to fight through your healers to assist my family.”

The Roegadyn nodded, and then both their heads whipped around as a hatch on the Ragnarok hissed, and swung open. Thancred hung out, grim-faced and blood-stained as he kicked a gangplank into place down to the dock, and Krile and the healers surged forward.

“We’ve got them stable, barely,” he said once they were close enough, ducking aside to let them through, and then leading them towards the bridge. “Alisaie nearly drained herself into her own case of aethershock, Y’shtola had to cast Repose on her to get her to stop. We’re all in minor cases of aethershock, but Synnove is the worst off, and that’s before the physical injuries.”

Krile felt herself go grey as Thancred rattled off the extent of the injuries suffered by the Warriors of Light and Scions both. It was a miracle they had even made it back to the ship and the Scions weren’t sure what had happened between the assumed defeat of the Endsinger and their arrival back on the Ragnarok, but Krile knew. She knew how those injuries had happened.

The floor of the Ragnarok’s bridge was covered in blood. The Scions and Healingway’s team of loporrit healers huddled around the Warriors of Light; even Alisaie, who had apparently bucked Repose, to Thancred’s exasperated sigh.

Krile immediately went to Dancing Heron, shooing an exhausted Alphinaud out of the way so that she and one of the Medical Corp healers could take over. A diagnostic spell told her the Hellsguard’s innards were essentially held together by prayer and fine silk thread; it was another miracle her blood wasn’t poisoned by the toxins from her perforated intestines, or what remained of them. As she settled to the task of blasting infection before it could take hold, Heron’s eyes fluttered open.

“Hi, Krile,” she croaked.

(“Oh, fuck you,” Healingway raged from where she was putting Alakhai’s chest back together. “Stop throwing off Sleep you fucking idiot! I hate paladins!”

“This is the first paladin you’ve worked with,” one of the loporrits muttered.

“Shut the fuck up!”)

“Oh, Heron,” she said, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Hey, none of tha’ now,” Heron said, slurring. Her eyes closed, her chest rising with the deep breath she took. “Hate to say it, but th’ bastard made ‘isself useful. An’ then we ended ‘im good ‘n proper.”

“You shouldn’t have fought him at all,” Krile said, reaching up to brush blood-crusted hair from Heron’s face.

“Was in—ugh. Was in-ev-it-a-ble,” Heron said slowly, deliberately. She reached up and gently patted Krile’s hands, her dark red skin too cool to the touch. “Better at th’ edge of th’ universe tha’ where someone could get hurt.”

“And you and your sisters count very much as someones getting hurt.”

“Nah, s’our job,” Heron said, nodding, as if that made it better. “M’gonna sleep now. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Heron,” Krile said, patting the paladin’s cheek, but Heron was already out cold.

Tension filled the bridge; Krile glanced up and saw Ser Aymeric kneeling next to Tataru, holding the young woman close as she cried onto his shoulder, his own eyes focused with horrible intensity on Synnove. Ameliance crouched on Ser Aymeric’s other side, one hand on his free shoulder and the other clutching tight to her husband’s as Fourchenault spoke quietly but firmly into a linkpearl. From the snatches she could catch during lulls in the orders and requests of the healers filling the space, the Leveilleur patriarch was throwing around the full might of the Forum to ready the emergency ward at the hospital.

She lost track of how long they worked, but eventually the loporrits brought over the mobile cots—stretchers, they were apparently called—and carefully they loaded a Warrior of Light onto each. Krile was small and light enough that she stayed crouched over Heron, modulating her conjury to keep her friend stable as they were wheeled out of the Ragnarok and towards the chocobo carts waiting to carry the whole of the Scions to the hospital. Two other lalafell healers did the same with Alakhai and Synnove, and Healingway knelt next to Rereha, frowning thoughtfully at the device she carried in one hand even as the other held the stasis spell steady.

Ser Aymeric followed along next to Synnove’s stretcher, one hand resting on her uninjured arm. The other Scions staggered after them; Estinien had Alphinaud slung over one shoulder, the young man passed out from exhaustion, with Alisaie hiked up under one arm and being fussed over by Ameliance, while Raha, Y’shtola, and Urianger leaned against one another with a pair of Sharlayan sages hovering next to them. Thancred carried a still weeping Tataru, smiling faintly as the coinkeeper scolded him between her tears.

A flash of blue overheard caught her attention, and Krile lifted her head to see a bluebird wing its way above the harbor.

The first sennight was the worst. For all that the four Warriors of Light were stable, any of their conditions could take a sudden turn for the worse, and more than one Scion took up a silent vigil at the side of one of their friends to ensure she made it through the night.

Kan-E-Senna, A-Ruhn-Senna, plus a number of Gridanian conjurers and Ul’dahn alchemists (among them Rerenasu Kukunasu, looking as if he had aged ten years before he even got to his daughter’s bedside), arrived by Ironworks airship the day after the Ragnarok’s return. The Elder Seedseer was immediately whisked into hushed talks with Healingway and the Sharlayan chirugeons who researched experimental treatments. And then they descended upon Rereha’s rooms to begin their attempts to repair the bard’s shattered spine, as the other healers were quickly put into the rotation to treat the others.

Aymeric spent those first days refusing to leave Synnove’s side, to the point the Master Healer, Tyrngeim, sighed heavily and ordered a cot brought to the arcanist’s room on which he could sleep. Not that he truly gained any rest, jerking awake almost as soon as he dropped off for fear something might happen to his lady in so fragile a state. The one time he managed a full night’s sleep was because Y’shtola had marched into the room, Urianger on her heels, and forced a sleeping draught into his hand while saying, “You’ll be no good to her dead yourself. Urianger and I will take the watch tonight.”

Synnove was so awfully still, as were her sisters; the healers were using a combination of thaumaturgical Sleep, conjuration Repose, and a cocktail of potions to keep them in comas. While everyone had returned from Ultima Thule in some state of aethershock—Estinien had been introduced to the disgusting horrors of aether syrup, and his brother had spent a solid two bells growling like a drake as he had kept otherwise silent vigil with Aymeric next to Synnove, grimacing with every tentative sip—Synnove was by far the worst off on that front. Her cheeks were sunken, her skin tight across her bones; any time the Warriors of Light were called to duty, Synnove dropped weight, the demands of her magic eating her body’s reserves, and the Scions had careened from the towers to Garlemald to Ultima Thule in mere moons, with Synnove (as well as the other mages) becoming almost frightfully lean before their journey to the stars. Now his lady was skeletal, and per the healers, her internal organs were badly damaged, particularly her kidneys and liver.

It took Aymeric two days to notice the arcanima sleeve tattoos were gone, and he stared, gaping, until Alisaie arrived.

“It was all the healing,” she said quietly, taking the brush from the bedside table to begin tending to Synnove’s now-brittle hair. “We had to practically shove aether into her and her body just gobbled it up, trying to keep itself functioning. At one point it was like a floodwater, so much magic at once it spilled over, pushed the ink right out of her skin. On her back, too, we had an awful fright when the colors seeped out onto the floor.”

“N’dhovaka is going to be furious,” Aymeric muttered, thinking of the Sun Seeker matron who had done all of Synnove’s tattoo work.

Alisaie snorted a laugh. “Synnove told me she had been wondering about some sort of alteration to the sleeves, refine the arrays. Suppose this is as good an opportunity as any.”

They both spoke in whens, not ifs, as if to do otherwise would invite ill fortune.

For now, all they could do for Synnove was keep getting aether syrup into her, trying to get her ravaged internal reserves to some sort of equilibrium, with healing sessions where the healers guided her own energies to focus on maintaining her brain and heart and lungs. Aymeric listened with trepidation as Tyrngeim and Healingway explained to him on the fifth day what they hoped to do once Synnove was stable enough that they could perform surgery.

“Her left kidney is completely shot,” the Master Healer said. “Now, an adult hyur can live with only one kidney, but given the state of her right kidney, she’s looking at potential failure in the future.”

“Fury preserve me,” he said, dropping his head into hands and pulling at his hair.

“Her best chance is essentially to perform a transplant surgery,” Healingway said succinctly, her small arms crossed. “There’s Allagan tech us loporrits have salvaged, plus what the Eorzean Alliance and Sharlayans have recovered over the years and studied, and there’s some genuinely useful medical uses for their cloning technology. Fuckers used it for some disgusting things—”

“—but my colleagues have had success with using it to grow new organs for badly injured individuals,” Tyrngeim interrupted before Healingway could get going. “Normally organ growth on the scale we need takes moons to ensure everything is viable with the power restraints we operate under—the original Allagan machines had power requirements we won’t be able to match for a couple generations as we reverse-engineer everything—but Healingway thinks since there is some healthy tissue remaining, we can use it as a base and jumpstart the process with loporrit creation magic. And since it’s Synnove’s own flesh, her body won’t reject it.”

“The liver won’t take much,” Healingway said. “Absolutely wonderful organ, the liver, it’s perfectly capable of regenerating itself over a period of time, but Synnove’s is at the point it’ll need some help. And far easier than the lung transplants we’re going to have to do for Alakhai. Honestly, I think the only reason we even have a chance right now is that there seems to be dynamis still lingering around all four of them, though even my tools are shite at judging how much. We’re going to have to do all the gross organ stuff right at their bedsides to harness it, we are literally fueling all this shite with high octane hope.”

Aymeric could not even begin to parse through what the two healers were discussing and the implications of it all. He rubbed his face tiredly and said, “Whatever it is you need me to sign, I’ll do it,” he said. “Whatever it takes to see her through.”

He still didn’t know if Synnove was better off than Alakhai and Heron, their bodies so badly wounded that the healers were still struggling to align bones and fish out stray shards and make sure the right pieces of meat were sewn together. It likely wasn’t wise to compare. It would take a long, long time for any of them to be back at full strength.

“This is going to be moons of recovery, once they’re out of danger,” Y’shtola said at the end of the first sennight, gathered with all the Scions, Aymeric, Rereha’s father, Heron’s mother, and a Lominsan in green by the name of V’kebbe, newly arrived that morning and “representing Alakhai’s family among the Upright, if you please.” They were huddled in the empty room in the same wing that their four family members were being kept that had become the communal space for them. A spread of coffee and juice and sandwiches from the Last Stand was laid out on the center table that they half-heartedly picked at.

Krile cleared her throat, and Y’shtola scowled, ears pinned flat to her head even as she obediently lifted her bottle of aether syrup and took a sip of the concoction.

“We do not ask any of ye to merely return to thy homes and await whatever sporadic crumb of news we can provide,” Urianger said. The other elezen was the most dressed down Aymeric had ever seen him, in soft pants and a thick sweater and knit fingerless gloves on his hand; his own aethershock lingered now in a persistent chill. “But ye will need to make the necessary plans if ye intend to stay in Sharlayan for long.”

“Considering the poor luck many of us have in multiple responsibilities, we’ll need to switch off as needed,” Rerenasu sighed. “As a note, Shushuha and I will cover all transport costs for everyone, airship and teleportation, and please do not argue with me about this, Opal.” Heron’s mother, Radiant Opal, rolled her eyes. “Ser Aymeric, no doubt Angharad will try to do the same, tell her she can argue with Shushu about it until they’re both blue in the face. Miss V’kebbe—”

The miqo’te rogue snorted. “Like Jacke’ll complain about one less thing t’ worry about with our coffers,” she said. “And thank you.”

“We’ve already got rooms set aside for everyone in the Baldesion Annex,” Krile said. “And no doubt Ameliance will do her best to send lunches for us all, no matter the time of day.”

Thancred sighed heavily and slouched in his chair. “Consider this the official first meeting of the Warriors of Light Family Support Group,” he snarked, ducking the swipe Alphinaud took at him and shifting to avoid the pinch from Alisaie.

“Likely not the last,” Alphinaud said with a sigh. But then he smiled, faint and hopeful. “But so far the signs are pointing to a positive outcome, and we must needs contain to have faith in our friends and the healers alike.”

It was the end of the third sennight, and Aymeric was startled awake by a hissing noise. He had fallen asleep in the chair next to Synnove, her limp hand gently grasped in his own, and now he snapped his eyes open, searching for the danger—

“—stupid fucking stubborn gods-be-damned older sisters I swear to Hydaelyn I will beat you bloody—”

That was the familiar tirade of a certain loporrit trauma specialist. Aymeric turned his head, and he stared.

Dancing Heron grinned back at him. She had huge bags under her eyes, and her skin hung lank on her frame, and she was slouching, one arm gingerly cradling her stomach, but it was Heron.

“Heron, what in the name of—” he gasped, scrambling to standing. “You came out of your third surgery yesterday, you’re supposed to be in a bloody coma—” He gently wrapped his lady’s elder sister in a hug, and she hugged him back with one arm.

Healingway raged at their feet. “This fucking stupid two-legger threw off the most potent cocktail of drugs I have ever had to mix and two layers of spellcraft because she had to check on her sisters. For fuck’s sake.”

“I was tired of sleeping,” Heron said mildly.

Healingway spat a curse that had Aymeric’s inner soldier blushing.

“Alakhai gave me a thumbs up,” Heron said as he drew back and pulled over a chair for her. “Then she dropped back to sleep. Rereha stole her mom’s knitting and is doing a cat’s cradle to test her range of motion in her fingers.”

Aymeric laughed as he helped ease the Hellsguard down onto the chair, the only reaction he had in his disbelief. Not even a few days ago, Kan-E-Senna had been fretting about the extent of any paralysis for Rereha, as she was still being kept in a coma, and Alakhai had had her own second surgery earlier today to begin fixing the disaster that was her torso.

“And it looks like Synnove’s doing better, too,” Heron rasped, a grin on her face as Healingway pulled out that strange scanning device of hers to go over the Hellsguard.

He turned, puzzled—and stared.

On Synnove’s other side, her aetheric glow dimmed to converse as much aether as possible, was Galette, tucked under her mama’s arm with her chin on Synnove’s shoulder. The carbuncle was nearly transparent, but she was there. And for the first time in three sennights, Synnove’s breathing was slow and deep, rather than the reedy wheeze that haunted Aymeric’s dreams, her chest rising and falling in steady beats with Galette in tandem.

The best, surest sign that her aether had finally begun to stabilize.

Aymeric collapsed into his chair, put his head on his lady’s shoulder even as he gripped her hand anew, and wept. In her sleep, Synnove’s hand twitched, and gripped back.

(On the tree outside the window, a bluebird began to sing.)

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