Chapter Text
Truth be told, what Sizhu Jakkya found on returning to the Waking Sands after defeating Titan had been like something from one of her worst nightmares--no, not ‘like’, it was one of her worst nightmares. She’d left her blood-family behind, all save her twin brother Mikh’a who had come with her, had taken on the burden of exile as well, though more for his own reasons than anything to do with her. Here in Eorzea, particularly among the Scions, she had found a new family…only to have so many of them killed or captured in one fell swoop.
Truth be told, she’d cried. After Noraxia had died and she’d finished forcing herself to search the entirety of the place, checking for survivors (there weren’t any) or anyone hiding who’d been missed (no one), she’d stumbled out of the Waking Sands and plunked herself down at the end of the ferry-dock. There, she let the tears wash over her, dripping from her chin onto the rippling face of the ocean, salt water meeting salt water, an offering of sorts to the Navigator.
Sizhu had never understood why her patron deity was Llymlaen while her brother, born mere seconds before her, had received Menphina, the traditional goddess revered by the Keepers of the Moon. Why, then, had she been given the sea-goddess for her patron? At least Azeyma would have made some semblance of sense--her mother’s mother had been a Seeker of the Sun, after all--but the Navigator? Her mother had never given her a proper explanation for it, simply stating that it was the will of the gods, which from typically stern and somber Mikh Jakkya meant an end to the conversation.
Now, though, for the second time in her life, Sizhu watched the rush and ripple of the waves through dry, puffy eyes and wondered if perhaps it wasn’t fitting after all.
She didn’t move from that spot until the sun had gone down; then she’d taken a cupped double-handful of the clear, cool ocean water and splashed it up into her face. She dumped another over the top of her head after the first, a self-baptism, washing away all evidence of her tears and inwardly asking for guidance and blessing both.
Noraxia’s words had been too dearly bought to go unheeded, so next Sizhu had sought sanctuary at the church of Saint Adama Landama, just north of Drybone. The long chocobo ride there had given her time to set her mind in order. This was not a time for further tears, it was a time for action. A time to be strong, and carry on the hopes and ideals of the slain...whatever that meant, and whatever it took.
She didn’t cry about it again. Not when she curled up in a corner of the church and let her weary body find whatever uneasy rest it could. Not when she returned to the Waking Sands to remove the bodies and see to the burial of her comrades. Not when she’d stood over their graves, graves they had to share with others, unmarked and unremarkable.
She didn’t cry, but she didn’t smile either as she went about whatever random tasks the people in and around the church asked of her, not for nearly a week. Not until he came along, making his grand entrance and giving her hope that perhaps her new family wasn’t completely lost after all.
And so, truth be told, she was grateful to Alphinaud Leveilleur. His caustic wit and steady determination to achieve his goals were a welcome distraction, something else to focus on, something to do, and his company was just as welcome. With her brother basically settled in Limsa Lominsa and always focused on pursuits of his own, she’d been without anyone to really talk to for some time, particularly anyone her own age. Even better, Alphinaud was a great deal more talkative than the often-taciturn Mikh’a, and proved to be great fun to tease, which she did constantly and playfully; and for the most part, he returned the jabs, by all appearances enjoying the verbal sparring every bit as much as she.
They’d been travelling together, the two of them and Cid, for the better part of a week when their hunt for the Enterprise took them deep into Coerthas. They had left Camp Dragonhead, moving on to Whitebrim, though the welcome there had been far from warm despite everything they’d done thus far.
Sizhu was newly returned from yet another quest, one of the seemingly endless errands intended to win the trust of the Ishgardians of House Durendaire, Lord Drillemont in particular. It was slow going, however, and largely thankless work; by now, she was used to being considered an outsider, but being called “heathen” and “heretic” was starting to wear thin. It was something of a relief that the person she needed to speak with next was Alphinaud--at least he would call her by name, and had some measure of trust for her already despite the difference in their points of origin.
She found the other teen shivering by the firepit, looking chilled to the bone and generally miserable, though apparently his teeth weren’t chattering enough to prevent him from speaking with his usual poise.
“Ah, Sizhu. In case you have yet to notice, my attire is ill suited to this climate.”
Watching him, Sizhu was struck by a sudden impulse to reach out and pull the young Sharlayan close, to warm him with her own body’s heat, though resisting that urge was easy, considering how strange and unexpected it was.
And yet...
This, something told her, was an opportunity for a whole new kind of teasing, something she'd never attempted before, and Sizhu decided to try it out and see what sort of results she got. So she smiled at him the way she’d seen other female Miqo’te smile at prospective mates--or more recently, how the dancing girls of Ul’dah smiled at their customers--her eyes falling alluringly half-closed as she almost literally purred, “Mm, I can see that…but you know…I can think of something that would warm you up pretty quickly…”
She took a purposeful step forward, and the Elezen teen took a startled step back, though the large raised firepit behind him prevented him from withdrawing any further from her relentlessly continuing advance.
“Oh~? What’s the matter, Alphie?”
Alphinaud shook his head as she took one slow, deliberate step, then another, apparently too taken aback by her actions to protest her use of that nickname. “Nothing,” he replied, seeming to steel himself, drawing himself up and straightening his shoulders, standing his ground. “Nothing in the least, save this intemperate weather.”
Sizhu gave a tiny chuckle at how resolute he looked, but she wasn’t quite ready to drop the act just yet. “This’ll be nice, I promise. There’s nothing to worry about…”
Now she was so close that she could feel the heat from the firepit beating on her face, and after another step the front of her bliaud was nearly brushing against the young Sharlayan...
...At which point she smirked even wider at his distinctly wary expression, and pulled a thick woolen robe out of her bag, gently but firmly pressing it against his chest until his hands came up to grasp it. Flashing him an amiable smile that abruptly held no trace of her previous amorous demeanor, Sizhu turned around and walked away without another word, leaving him standing there and looking after her, openly bemused.
On her return a few minutes later with two cups of steaming-hot tea, she found that he was already wearing the robe, and subsequently shivering a lot less. The Miqo’te girl giggled to herself a little at the sight of him in her clothes, unable to decide if he looked strange or if it actually suited him, though she swallowed her amusement before she approached.
“Here,” she said, offering Alphinaud one of the plain but serviceable tin cups. “I sneaked a taste of mine already, and it’s not bad. Though it does make me miss sweet Thanalan tea…ah!” Swiftly she flung out a hand towards him in warning as he raised the cup to his lips. “Careful, it’s hot!”
The arcanist rolled his eyes a bit, though his smile and tone were both good-natured, if a little wry. “Indeed, I should expect so. That is the point of such a drink, is it not? To warm the drinker with its heat.” Nonetheless, he blew on it first before chancing a sip, finding that it still remained just shy of the right temperature. He took a longer gulp anyway, welcoming the way it burned a bit as it trickled down his throat, despite the fact that he knew he’d doubtless scalded his tongue somewhat.
Sizhu was watching him, he realised as he lowered his already half-empty cup, her own tea temporarily forgotten as she waited for his reaction.
“I must say that I quite thoroughly agree with your assessment. This tea is strong and bitter, a bracing drink without a hint of sweetness. Fitting for this stark, austere country, for although it is not a pleasant drink, it is warm at the very least, which makes it serviceable enough, if not enjoyable.” He turned a smile over at her, and she didn’t miss the faint, teasing glint in his expression. “I shall have to return this favour when next we pass through the Quicksand--and fear not, I’ll ensure they add plenty of cream and honey.”
Sizhu stifled a chuckle behind her own tea cup, a curious warmth spreading through her chest that she wasn’t certain was due only to the tea. It felt...different somehow, though she couldn’t put a name to the feeling.
“Mm, just cream in mine,” she corrected, then tilted her head in consideration. “Well, maybe a little maple sugar, too. But definitely plenty of cream!”
“As you wish,” Alphinaud agreed, dipping his head slightly in acknowledgement.
They finished their tea in comfortable silence, then discussed the next move they should make regarding their current quest, which of course ended with Sizhu heading back out into the snow yet again. Being alone in that barren wilderness gave her plenty of time to think, though, and as she crunched her way through knee-deep snow, the Miqo’te girl considered the fact that neither of them had brought up her brief, teasing flirtation.
Truth be told, she was glad of that, even if she couldn’t quite put a finger on why.