#also this is actually the first time i've ever posed elezen!!

[elliewiltarwyn]

A Specialized Problem (OC Swap Gift for @mythandral)

for the FFXIV OC Swap discord's current swap, my giftee is the incomparable @mythandral! Coming in a little under the wire here cause the deadline is on Sunday ghasldkfjkasd BUT I'm really glad I finally sat myself down and devoted the energy to exploring Myth's whole deal because it's all so cool and fascinating and he's a wonderful character, and I hope this gift lives up to those standards!!

I present a 2,321-word fluffy MythXStephanivien fic illustrated with gposes from Steph's POV centered around Myth. I offered either gposes or fic writing, and then hubristically decided I could do both. >.> also there was technically a theme for the swap but thankfully they were optional because I completely forgot sdghalshgf however I suppose you could say this is adjacent to the Valentione's/Love option?? it is goddamn cotton-candy levels of fluff at least lol

ANYWAY WITHOUT FURTHER ADO hope you all and Myth in particular enjoy!!

It was well after the end of the workday, with the gray Coerthan clouds beginning to tint orange and the sun beginning to aim its reach through the still-open doors of the manufactory, and Myth had yet to move an ilm from his spot.

This in and of itself wasn’t terribly surprising; Stephanivien was used to his husband’s tendency to focus on his projects to the exclusion of most else. It was a method of increasing his productivity and a process of healing both for him, allowing him to turn his anxieties into progress on any number of little projects that had fallen by the wayside in the manufactory’s assembly line, but ones that would be of immense benefit to unfortunate folk from the slowly-ascending peasants of the Brume to the steadily-recovering citizens of Garlemald. Even if it were for no benefit but his own, Stephanivien would never begrudge him these times to himself; Fury knows he could use some of those moments, butting heads with his lord father and Tedalgrinche and other such doubters all day as he does. Albeit less so these days.

No, Stephanivien’s concern was more prosaic: typically, Myth’s personal space in these times was active and bright, delighting in the sounds of his tools tinkering with his project, examining it from every angle and frequently ducking his head and craning his neck into unusual positions to do so, not to mention how he would gladly explicate upon his process to any who asked, especially if they were new hires of the manufactory who were like to stand there in awe of the Warrior of Light more than actually listen to a word he was saying. Quite frankly, Myth was a delight when he was in these moods.

Today, it had been anything but: Mythandral Raas, beloved senior engineer of Skysteel Manufactory, husband of its proprietor, and Warrior of Light, had spent near the full afternoon gazing blankly at the device in pieces before him on the table — his own aetherometer. His elbows had rested on the table for what seemed to be several bells, his hands clasped across the bridge of his nose as his burnished golden eyes, the color of the sun hiding behind the overcast sky, traced the span of gears, nuts, bolts and wires sprawled across his workspace. Most disturbingly, he had paid no heed to any who tried to draw his attention — not that anyone pressed particularly far, fearful as they were of disturbing such a notable figure of renown, no matter how open-minded and approachable Myth presented himself.

‘Twas quite strange for Myth, but Stephanivien had some ideas percolating in his overactive mind — both as to the cause and as to possible solutions.

And so as the day wound down and countless employees and guild trainees trickled out the door, each bidding both proprietor and Warrior of Light good night, Stephanivien pretended to busy himself with a pile of messy letters that a Haillenarte manservant had delivered earlier that day, flipping and reading through the same three or four until activity in the manufactory died down, until all that could be heard was the sound of steam rushing through pipes and small hisses of exhaust — the murmurs, chatter, and laughter of his employees finally absent. Even now, Myth continued to regard his aetherometer sternly, attempting to solve a puzzle that, Stephanivien admitted, could stump even himself.

Once he had judged it to be likely they truly were the last in the manufactory, Stephanivien raised his voice slightly to note, “Stare any harder, my dear, and you’re like to burn a hole straight through the thing.”

Finally, for the first time in several hours, Myth’s head rose from its downturned angle. Smirking to himself, Stephanivien balled up the letters in his hand, tossed them over his shoulder into the wastebasket, and slipped out from behind the desk to make for his partner’s side. As his boots clacked across the wooden floor, Myth’s head slowly craned around to gaze up at him over his shoulder, blinking fairly irregularly and furrowing his brow as if he had just awoken from deep slumber. “Of course, if doing so would solve your seemingly impenetrable dilemma, then I wholeheartedly encourage it by all means.” Stephanivien winked. “As I always encourage exploring such unorthodox methods.”

“Unfortunately, this is a matter that requires a delicate approach,” Myth demurred as the corner of his lips tugged upwards slightly. “I won’t deny I’ve been quite tempted to incinerate the blasted thing a number of times, though.”

“’Twould certainly eradicate the problem in one sense.” Now by his side, Stephanivien reached over and laid a gentle hand on his partner’s shoulder while extending the other around in front; Myth took the hint and reached up to clasp it, each machinist curling their fingers around each other’s thick padded gloves. “Shall I take a look? Fresh perspectives oft bear unforeseen solutions, as you well know.”

Myth sighed. “You’re welcome to, I suppose, but I fear this is a particularly specialized problem. It involves…well.” He chuckled, sat up a little, and wryly rapped his knuckles against his own chest; Stephanivien knew very well the “problem” laying beneath Myth’s perfectly-tailored, shockingly-clean-for-a-Skysteel-engineer shirt. “My stint with the Light is largely resolved, but I am still particularly susceptible to fluctuations in my aether, particularly when I’m doing something aether-intensive; when I accrue a surfeit, the probability that the aetherometer will jam rises — the lightning-aspected aether it is supposed to draw becomes imbalanced toward the umbral.” With his free hand, he reached for a small wrench that laid on the table next to the meter, flipped it into his fingers with all the dexterity of a Lominsan rogue with their knives, and drummed it along the length of an internal piece of the meter’s machinery. “I am trying to figure out how to filter Light aether and restore the lightning’s astral balance, in essence.”

Stephanivien frowned. “That is quite the conundrum — after all, if it were possible before…”

“…I would likely have had a much easier time in the First, yes,” Myth mused with a grim chuckle.

“That aether fluctuations could cause errors with the extraction is a possibility I ought to have considered. It pains me to know my oversight has been causing you grief.”

“Come now, there’s no way you could have possibly known ‘twould be an issue when you invented this,” Myth immediately interjected, shaking his head up at his husband with a mischievous grin. “Frankly, had you, it would have raised serious questions about your choice of occupation. You could make a killing with that sort of precognition.”

Stephanivien submitted to a chuckle himself as he squeezed his husband’s hand and shoulder both. “You say that, and yet I am not unaware of the skeptical glares everyone still gives my prospectometer.” Myth stifled a laugh with his other hand, a sound Stephanivien had not heard all day and had sorely missed. “At any rate, mayhap we should step away from the problem for a time? Even your genius mind cannot carry on forever without rest and recuperation.” That being said, Stephanivien’s insides churned, as he knew quite well why Myth had been focusing so intently on solving this particular puzzle. From the tales he had heard, from what he had seen cross his husband’s torso, the Light had done quite a number on him, to put it far too lightly…

Thankfully, Myth’s response to the proposition was to sigh, lean his head against Stephanivien’s hand, and murmur, “Perhaps you have a point.” He groaned and stretched his other arm and both legs outward, rotating his wrist and feet as he stretched his neck to one side, then the other. There was a grimace on his face when he muttered, “I definitely should not have sat here all day. Have you aught in mind for an alternate activity?”

“‘Activity’ should not be a factor in the equation, my dear…” Stephanivien trailed off as his gaze tracked towards the chronometer sitting on the manufactory’s front desk. The specific time that it was currently displaying suddenly ignited the spark of an idea in his mind, and he grinned. “Though I do believe I’ve thought of something. Here — follow me.”

Myth’s brow furrowed in confusion, but he allowed Stephanivien to pull him to his feet and start to make for the stairs hand-in-hand. Stephanivien’s heart beat faster and faster in his breast as they climbed those stairs to the manufactory’s upper story, crossing the landing until they reached one of the doors on the far side with a ‘No Entry’ placard hanging off the handles; Stephanivien carelessly yanked it off and pulled Myth through, crossing into a poorly-lit corridor.

“Hm.” Even in the darkness, Stephanivien was well aware of the arched eyebrow upon his husband’s face. “I can’t say I’ve ever been down this way.”

“You did not think the ‘No Entry’ was a physical barrier, surely?”

“You never know.”

Stephanivien laughed gaily as they began to climb another set of stairs. After all his worrying, all Myth’s trials, he could not well describe the extent to which he was walking on clouds hearing his partner’s sense of humor return to prominence.

There wasn’t much further banter as the two ascended the stairs to an extent much further than Stephanivien was sure Myth expected, distracted as they were with the effort and the numbered floors counting off in Stephanivien’s mind. Once they reached the fifth landing, he diverted off the steps onto it and led Myth down another few dark corridors, eventually reaching one sitting unremarkedly at the far end.

“You may want to cover your eyes for a moment,” Stephanivien warned with a cheeky grin; Myth looked confused still, but obliged, lowering his goggles and shading them with his hand. Holding his breath in anticipation, Stephanivien yanked the door open and pulled Myth through.

The moment the sun fell across Myth’s face, it rose in shock, his lips slightly parted as it literally dawned on him what was happening. “Wait, but…”

Stephanivien couldn’t help a satisfied smirk as he gently coaxed his partner forward, stepping onto a surprisingly wide stone landing and making for its edge. “Ishgard has a reputation for dreariness that is not wholly unearned,” he said matter-of-factly, “but there are certain places that are adept at reminding me ‘twas not always a cold and biting clime.”

“Right here at the manufactory?” Myth replied in awe; having apparently gotten used to it now, he pushes his goggles back up onto his forehead and lowers his hand, his golden eyes sweeping back and forth, taking in the vista before them.

“‘Tis not particularly known, and I am ill-inclined to reveal it to most. But of course, I will make certain exceptions.” Stephanivien beams at Myth as they reach the edge and draw to a standstill, relishing the way the widening of his partner’s eyes gave him premium access to the view of their golden pupils, now soaking in not just the scenic view of the ridges of Abalathia’s Spine but the way the sun perfectly sat at the apex of one of the gaps between the Pillars for which the district was so named.

A hesitance struck Stephanivien at that moment, the potential pitfalls of his devious plan now catching up with his overactive mind. After all, if Light was the source of such woe for him… But he remained resolute as he gestured at the vista, lingering in particular on the rays of the sun, so strong with such defined shapes that he swore he could reach out and pluck them from the frigid air. “The sun travels over Coerthas as normal, of course — but it never nestles into what I would declare its proper spot aside from this particular time of day, in this particular season.”

He exhaled a visible puff of air and put his hand on his hip, the other now tightly beginning to curl into Myth’s. “From this spot,” he began quietly, “I can remember easier that we are not so isolated here in Ishgard — that the warm touch of the sun can reach even us.” His gaze flicked up to Myth’s eyes again, meeting them as Myth turned to stare at him. “Both that we need not suffer our trials alone… and that ‘tis still possible to partake of that which is comforting about the light.”

Myth’s other hand, on apparent instinct, rose up and placed itself directly upon his chest, over the precise centerpoint where Stephanivien knew the scars laid. “Steph,” he breathed, “you…”

Stephanivien chewed his lip anxiously, the nerves beginning to rise to a fever pitch as he suddenly found himself unable to read his husband’s expression. “I apologize profusely if I’ve given any offense,” he murmurs, averting his gaze, “I merely thought—”

A leather glove wraps around his hip and pulls him in to share a deep kiss with Myth, one which he enthusiastically reciprocates, reaching up to cup his partner’s cheek and move in for a more comfortable position, a warm position, here in the arms of Mythandral Raas.

“You are,” Myth breathed between kisses, “as always, a genius, and have the answer to everything.” They pulled apart slightly, just enough to rest their foreheads against each other; Stephanivien stifled a chuckle as their goggles clacked awkwardly against each other. “Thank you, my love.”

Stephanivien grinned. “I’m overjoyed to have helped.” They kissed again, and Stephanivien began to tangle his fingers in the lengths of Myth’s luxurious hair. “If you like,” he whispered somewhat mischievously, “I can steal down briefly for some of the ale stores? I’ve found it goes quite well with the view.”

“Oh, on any other day, I would gladly,” Myth replied, pulling back and grinning at his husband. “But tonight, I think I would keep my mind clear. I’ve just had a flash of inspiration about my problem, after all.”

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv screenshots #ffxiv gpose #my fanfiction #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxiv swap #elezen #stephanivien de haillenarte #stephanivien x wol #other's ocs: Mythandral Raas #thank you sm for trusting me with Myth he's fantastic!! #also this is actually the first time i've ever posed elezen!! #and for some reason i found their heights so much more difficult to wrangle than femroes?? i dont get it?? #also also i apologize if any or all of this doesn't line up with Official Myth Lore™️but i tried my best! 🙂