Chapter Text
It had not gone well, she concluded by week’s end.
Gods, what had she been thinking? What had he been thinking—specifically, about her? Every time Z’seira replayed their conversation in her mind, it took on a new tone. Was he actually into her, or had she imagined it? Why had he left so suddenly and not returned to speak to her at all throughout the rest of the evening? Had she been too flirty, too playful, and made him uncomfortable? Though she had been too caught up in the moment for respectable amounts of introspection at the time, in hindsight she recalled stumbling over her words, putting her foot in her mouth, suavely making a fool of herself, and nothing of the sort from him.
Twelve, the possibility was devastating when it hit her: He was just being friendly, and she had made an awful, awful, and likely self-centered mistake—allowing her heart to stupidly run away with itself in the process, and possibly also making him uncomfortable if he had sensed that there was interest in something more on her part when there had never been on his. Ugh.
Asking him to shed some light on the matter might have been a sensible option, except that he had shut himself in his tower some days ago, having dedicated himself entirely to the task of finding a way to safely send her friends home. Ostensibly. Well, she was sure he was working on that, but a niggling, doubting voice in the back of her mind couldn’t help but wonder if his sudden and complete isolation had anything to do with avoiding her as well.
And yet… She maintained just enough hope to feel a small yet exhilarating rush of excitement when she thought back on the more promising moments of that evening—his warm skin against hers in the cool night air; the smell of seawater in his hair, close enough to be vividly recalled even now; the glimmer of excitement in his preternaturally bright eyes when they looked back at her with dilated anticipation; the faintest hint of a tremble in his hand when it held hers—and all the little clues that had led her to believe he might have been interested in her even before that. Just enough hope to linger around the tower a little more than she would have liked to admit, just in case a certain someone made an appearance. Waiting...and watching...and hoping.
But that sort of pathetic pining wouldn’t do for Nyx Nevermore, former huntress of the Z tribe who had fled Gyr Abania to escape Miqo’te men, and when she had exhausted all tasks that could have otherwise occupied her attention in the Crystarium, she found herself traveling back to the Source for want of new pavestones to wear a rut into.
The Rising Stones was eerily empty when she arrived. Even Tataru and the junior Scions seemed to be out, leaving the place looking more like an abandoned warehouse than the hideout of a thriving group of adventurers. For a brief and terrifying moment, Z’seira was struck with the fear that Black Rose had succeeded and claimed them all just as the Exarch and Urianger had described—that she had once again returned to the setting of a massacre, a collection of corpses that had once been her comrades—until she heard Clemence and Coultenet in quiet discussion around the corner. The icy grip of panic subsided.
Krile, too, emerged just then from the room where the other Scions’ soulless bodies lay. There were dark circles under her eyes and a deep weariness about her whole demeanor that she pushed down to favor Z’seira with a kind smile when the two women set eyes upon one another from across the room.
“Once again you surprise me with how quickly you return,” Krile greeted with a mixture of pleasantness and dismay. She seated herself at the table that stood between them and exhaled wearily. “I am beginning to have my doubts regarding the equivalence of this ‘near equivalency’ in the flow of time between our world and the First. ’Twas only two days past by our reckoning that you left. Has there been progress already?”
“Oh. No. I. Um.” Z’seira sheepishly sought some sort of lie or cover for her behavior with all the grace and subtlety of a drunken Namazu. “I came back early.”
Though the stubby little ears upon the Lalafell’s hood could neither twitch nor turn nor even hear, the thinness of the excuse—or rather, the lack of one—prompted a noticeable shift and focusing of Krile’s attention all the same. “Is something wrong?”
Z’seira quickly shook her head. “No no, nothing like that. I just…” Her gaze drifted toward the closed door standing between them and the infirmary. Twelve, the rest of them had real problems, and here she was with a silly godsdamned crush.
She had seen nearly thirty summers here on the Source—fully so, if her time on the First was to be counted—so at least part of her frustration with herself and her predicament stemmed from the fact that such things were typical of much younger people, which made it feel childish. But was it really childish in and of itself to fret over a crush, or was it just that most people got these experiences out of their system at an earlier age?
Z’seira’s romantic history was neither extensive nor exciting, and consisted entirely of Z’jhogo, one of her tribesisters, and Haurchefant Greystone. Neither experience had been even remotely similar to this. She and Jhogo had grown up together and their affections had been gradual and second nature. Tribeswomen shared a bond like no other, which was why they referred to other women of their tribes as tribe sisters, even when there was no direct blood relation. They hadn’t parted on the best of terms, but on some level they would always love each other.
As for Haurchefant, theirs had been a whirlwind “romance” that in hindsight had filled a gap in her life more than it was anything truly meant to be. He was enamored of her, and she was adrift, wracked with survivor’s guilt. She very conspicuously lacked a home or a family, he offered both, and before she knew it they were planning an Elezen wedding that she didn’t entirely recall agreeing to but had been certain would work out for the best. It was a convenient blessing that Ishgardian customs placed a moral value upon sexual abstinence until marriage and her betrothed placed her upon such a pedestal that chastity seemed but one more of her many astounding virtues when really— Well...perhaps that was another story.
This story was about how she had lost her mind while her friends’ lives were at stake. And as she stared bleakly at the door to the Dawn’s Respite, that seemed as good a misdirection as any. “...How are they?”
Krile took a deep breath and nodded. “Stable, for now. Their situation is not deteriorating, but nor is it improving. The sooner we can bring them home, the better.”
Z’seira nodded. A lull fell over them.
Krile canted her head, gazing up at her thoughtfully. “Are you certain there isn’t aught you’d like to talk about...?”
Z’seira swallowed. It was only then that her dumb arse recalled the exact nature that Krile’s echo took. Of course she couldn’t hide her feelings from an empath; it was probably insulting to even try.
Krile’s large green eyes were patient, kind. Forgiving .
Z’seira held out for approximately three more seconds before demonstrating precisely why Krile was the only one of them to survive capture behind enemy lines. “ Ican’tstopthinkingaboutG’rahaTia,” she spilled in one ungraceful rush, then promptly let her forehead drop in defeat against the thick oaken table with a groan that was louder than the thud her skull made upon contact.
Krile, by stark contrast, positively glowed in her victory. “Oh, I knew this would be good. Ephemie! Some tea and two tarts, if you would.”
“Was I so pathetic?” Z’seira wailed.
But despite the Warrior of Light’s anguish, Krile took the whole thing smugly in stride. “My dear, I hear the whispers of the soul, but yours is fairly shouting. Pathetic? No no, but... loud . Quite loud. Oh, now now, do not look so. This seems to me a happy turn of events, is it not? I know Raha quite well, you know. Or rather, I did, when we studied under my grandfather together, but I can tell you with confidence he is a good soul through and through. I realize he has seen many more years than I have since our days on Val and ‘twould be foolish to presume he is still quite the same young man he was then, but I can’t imagine he could ever change so much that ’twould no longer be a true statement about him. Oh, thank you, Ephemie.”
Z’seira lifted her head as Ephemie gently set two teacups with saucers between them, watching the polite Elezen woman fill one and then the other. “I didn’t know him at all,” Z’seira mused. “I mean, I did —briefly, when they first discovered the tower and recruited me to clean out the place—but I...really didn’t get to know him.”
“Surely you’ve time now, no?”
“I suppose.” A vision of his face flashed through her mind’s eye: kind, but...somewhat cryptic. He was bowing to her and taking his leave at the night’s return celebration, scarce to be seen again—thus far, anyroad . “Actually, I... I think he might be avoiding me. Maybe.”
Krile raised an eyebrow. “I am all ears if you wish to give me more compelling details than that.”
And so she did, starting with everything she hadn’t recapped to Krile and Tataru already when she first gave her report about their mysterious summoner and his history with Cid, Biggs, Wedge, and herself. This version included details about her conversation with Feo Ul, more poignant observations about vibes she had felt during previously unnoteworthy exchanges with the Exarch, the dance, a painstaking dissection of the words they said to one another during it, their brief exchange the following day when he had first sent her off through the portal to deliver that less embellished report, and all her uncharacteristic anxiety about the awkward silence since (including some embarrassing record keeping about exactly how long the meanwhile had been thus far).
Krile listened patiently, never cutting Z’seira off even when she rambled. She nodded in such a way that was ever affirming and never judgmental, which had the profound effect of compelling Z’seira to share even more than she might have otherwise. Talking to Krile, she felt completely at ease relating not only events but also her own thoughts and possible interpretations of them.
Krile sipped the tea that Ephemie had given her and the tea that Z’seira had given her, and found both to be equally delicious.
“I must once again reiterate that I have not spoken with Raha in a good hundred or so years by his reckoning,” she prefaced carefully, “but if aught can be extrapolated from the Raha I knew in his youth at Val...I do not think this necessarily means he isn’t interested in you romantically.”
Z’seira blinked and scooted her chair closer to the table. “What do you mean?”
“Well…” Krile took a small bite of the strawberry tart placed before her and chewed on it carefully while considering the best way to put words to her meaning. “Raha was ever shy in the ways of love. ’Twas far more his way to long for someone from afar than to ever take actionable steps to realize his affections. I know not if he ever grew out of this and ’tis quite likely that he has, but if it sets your mind at ease, I can tell you there is certainly precedent for G’raha Tia pining after his heroes yet never wishing to trouble them with such things.”
Curious. Miqo’te were not a monogamous people and that did not inspire jealousy in her per se, but given that Z’seira believed her own circumstances so extenuating, learning that she might simply have been his modus operandi was slightly disappointing in a way she probably needed to unpack later.
“Was there...someone special to him?”
“Oh, not in any serious manner. A crush he held on a professor for far too long. Truthfully, I believe he enjoyed the crush far more than he even wanted anything more than that.”
Was that true of her as well? Z’seira furrowed her eyebrows and bore an extremely troubled gaze into the wooden tabletop in a way that probably telegraphed her concerns to the ogres down the road, let alone the empath sitting next to her.
“But he was a teen then,” Krile quickly amended, “and a student. Quite a dedicated student at that. My supposition that he did not truly desire a relationship with a middle-aged professor he admired at seventeen has absolutely no bearing on whether or not he might desire a relationship with you, now.” That seemed to inspire another thought within Krile, and she pressed a small foreknuckle thoughtfully to her small Lalafellin lips. “There is also one other relevant detail that I believe may have always stayed his hand in romantic ventures...but ’twould not be my place to tell it to you in his stead.”
“Well, he’s a tia,” Z’seira explained with a dismissive wave of her hand. Krile knew naught of her past, her name, or even her tribe, but with her tawny skin and slitted pupils, ’twas plain enough for anyone to see that the Warrior of Light was a Seeker of the Sun. “Tia have certain restrictions on who they’re permitted to have relationships with within the tribe. It usually doesn’t apply outside of the tribe, but if he ever wanted to go home, it could be a problem. They’re all a little strange about that—it’s why so many of them leave, except the ones who only like men, or the ones who want to be Nunh.”
“Mm, ’tis not quite that.”
Z’seira raised an eyebrow. “He isn’t secretly a serial killer, is he?”
Krile gave a softly bemused chuckled. “Nothing of the sort! Simply a man who is—or has been—cautious with his heart.”
All of this left Z’seira quite possibly even more confused than she had been before. When she tried to piece together some sort of direction out of everything Krile had told her, she only found herself quite literally biting back her frustration with her teeth on her bottom lip instead. “So what do you think I should do? Talk to him? Let it be? If he’s so cautious then I don’t want to overstep his boundaries but if he’s so shy then surely it would help if I’m not?”
Krile pursed her lips and studied Z’seira appraisingly. “If you fancy him,” she guided patiently, “my advice would be to pursue it...gently. He may be more forthcoming about his own feelings if he knows you are interested, but only if that interest is not merely physical.” She paused, her eyes shrewd and curious. “If I might be so bold, what is your primary interest in him?”
“Wh—” What a loaded question. Z’seira was momentarily stunned by being asked so much so casually, and then immediately progressed to flustered because she barely knew how to articulate the answer to herself, let alone to another. “He…” Her thick lavender eyebrows—Jandelaine’s doing, though the glamour was fading now after so long on the First—knit tightly together. “Talking to him just felt like talking to an old friend, I suppose. Even before I knew who he was.” When Z’seira thought a bit further on that , however, her frown deepened. “Maybe...maybe that was just because he knew who I was, whether because he knew me before or because he heard all those stories about me. But even still…”
The sight of him looking at her with such joy and sorrow and strength and adoration all at once as he siphoned the light from her body and attempted to sacrifice himself to save everyone else was burned into her retinas when she closed her eyes. “I admire his strength,” she said. “Which is funny, because he thinks I’m the hero, and I don’t think I could have done what he did.”
When she opened her eyes again, Krile’s were impossibly large and damn near glassy gazing up at her in a way that made Z’seira feel slightly self conscious. She coiled back reflexively, folding her arms over her chest and drawing herself up to defensively lean into the advantage of height against one of the few individuals she held that advantage over. “Well I don’t know, he’s your friend, isn’t he? What do you like about him?”
“Oh yes, pray forgive me! I meant not to challenge you on the matter, simply to gain a better understanding of your feelings, and your exact predicament.”
Z’seira eased, and Krile tapped her chin thoughtfully.
“What I always liked best about Raha was his optimism. I didn’t always have an easy go of it in my youth, but no matter the problem, he always had a supportive smile and contagious faith that things would work out for the best.” Delving thus into her memories, an impish twinkle lit her eyes. “And when a distraction was what I needed, he could always be counted upon to stir up a little mischief as well. Heavens, we got into a fair amount of trouble together, but I’d not trade it for all the world.”
“He sounds like a good friend.”
“The best of friends.”
“I had a friend like that once.” She’d had two friends like that, actually—one of them the aforementioned Jhogo, and the other her brother Khar; both of them her partners in crime back in Gyr Abania, yet only Khar stood by her when she stood against the Nunh. Perhaps it was resentment over Jhogo’s betrayal that made Z’seira so jaded in all things romance, so utterly disinterested in seeking these connections that others were desperate for, or perhaps it was something else.
“Perhaps you could have such a friend again, even should nothing romantic develop between the two of you.”
G’raha’s face drifted into her mind’s eye again, his smile soft, his eyes gentle. He didn’t deserve whatever resentment she harbored toward ghosts of the past—Jhogo, her father, Z’dho, or anyone else. “Perhaps,” Z’seira whispered, her voice strained, her eyes unfocused as she held onto that image, but she knew as she said it that wasn’t the outcome her heart truly wanted. The vision she had conjured up of him smiled before she blinked her imaginings away and attempted to appear less psychotic to the Lalafell who was in front of her in reality.
Krile smiled, too. Knowingly. Too knowingly. “And do give him my regards, won’t you?”