Work Text:
Atop the mountains that surround Rhalgr’s Reach sits the Temple of the Fist, a once sacred site that saw many a monk test their limits in order to strengthen their bond with their revered god, Rhalgr, the Destroyer. Though the temple now lies ravaged, destroyed after the Mad King denounced the Fist of Rhaglr, it is here that a young woman finds herself in a peculiar situation.
Save for the sound of her long, drawn breaths, the sparring grounds of the temple remained in complete silence. She was as still as a statue, deep in concentration, her senses sensitive to even the most minute stimuli, waiting…
There it is!
A slight rumble came from behind her. Her eyes jolted open, fierce as fire, fixating upon her target. She opened a chakra point, focusing her aether into her fist, her arm pulling back instinctively.
Effortlessly, the firebrand punches through a large stone racing towards her, decimating it into tiny little pebbles. Easy enough, but that was no reason for her to let her guard down, not with another one speeding at her. Again was the rock decimated, and again was another thrown at her, the flurry of stones steadily increasing with every takedown, now coming at her from all directions. One flies a little higher, prompting her to take to the skies to land a tornado kick. As it dismantles upon contact, a final stone catches her eye, flying low towards the ground.
Shit!
She redirects her aether into her fist once again, recoiling her arm and launching it, using the force to propel her forward. Hopefully, it would be enough for her to reach it in time.
Her fist slams against the grounds of the ancient temple. As she lands, she looks around for a stray rock, but does not come upon one. She lifts her hand, seeing the stone pulverized underneath.
“Ha!” Mission success.
“Impressive. Your strength and chakra control has improved considerably since our last outing,” spoke a white-haired Miqo’te.
The blonde glanced in the direction of the voice, her breath hitching at the sight of her in her new attire. Although she liked her previous outfit, her current one fit her quite well, giving her an edgier look that Lyse found rather attractive. However, it is Y’shtola. No matter what she wore, she would always find Y’shtola attractive, even if she wore nothing.
She shook her head. Snap out of it, Lyse!
"You've got Widargelt to thank for that. He's a very good teacher," she quickly responded, disregarding the thought that inconsiderably appeared in her mind. Prior to her formal education with the monk master, she would have easily cracked the foundation of the timeworn temple with her last punch. Months of vigorous training and meditation allowed her to have better control of her chakra and aether flow, concentrating just enough to destroy the stones thrown at her, but not enough to destroy her surroundings.
“Besides, being Commander, I have to be strong to protect my soldiers. I can’t just be complacent with my current strength,” she stares solemnly at her fist, mourning those they have lost, and promising to defend those still living.
“War never seems to stop, does it?” Y’shtola’s voice breaks her out of her brooding. As a Scion, she knew it all too well, and during her time in the First, experienced too much of it for comfort. Between preventing Emet Selch and his fellow Ascians from ushering in the Eighth Umbral Calamity, to warding off sin eaters, to seeing those she cared for being turned into sin eaters, including the Warrior of Light who very nearly lost their being due to the corruption of light from within, the toils of warfare took their toll on the sorceress. Yet here she was, without a moment’s respite, thrown into another war, another campaign, to prevent the collapse of humanity.
That is not to belittle Lyse, who has not even left the warfare, who jumped endlessly from one battle to another, and seen the loss of her comrades time and time again. With the Scions spirited away to the First, it was her and her soldiers who held the line, protecting Ala Mhigo and Eorzea from any possible invasion the Garlean Empire had in mind. They were heavily outnumbered, yet would gladly risk their lives if it meant defending the innocent. The Commander herself nearly lost her life on multiple occasions, yet hung by a thread every time. Y’shtola shuddered at the thought. Despite the maturity displayed upon her return, the firebrand was as reckless as ever with that bleeding heart of hers. Now that she is back, she would be sure to reprimand Lyse on her audacious actions. Lyse was an important figure, not only to her troops, but to her as well. She cannot afford to lose someone so precious to her.
The monk’s deep sigh interrupted her thoughts. “We’ve only retained a semblance of peace due to the Garlean civil war, but even then, that doesn’t mean we should drop our guard. Especially not with this new storm brewing.”
Y’shtola walked closer, capturing Lyse’s hand with her own. “At the least, we Scions have returned. Have you forgotten my words already?”
Come what may, you may count on us in your hour of need.
A fierce blush rose to her face. Luckily for her, the Miqo’te would not see it. “‘Shtola...my thanks.”
Y’shtola looked at her fondly, sending Lyse’s heart into a beating frenzy. Meanwhile, Lyse caught herself staring at the Miqo’te in front of her a little too long, becoming lost in her eyes. Although void of color, she still found them beautiful, full of life and...love. Or was that just her mind playing tricks on her? Something she so desperately longed for being projected into her soft gaze? All she wanted was to hold her, to kiss her, to simply be with the woman she calls a dear friend, though her heart says otherwise. She was much more than a dear friend, she was the woman she loved entirely and unapologetically.
But it wouldn’t be possible. Not with the current situation they found themselves in with the Garleans, with Zenos, and with Fandaniel. No, it was never that easy. It never will be. But just a moment with her, no matter how short it may be, Gods it meant the world to her. Another moment to cherish, another reason to keep on fighting.
Suddenly, Y’shtola’s gentle gaze turned into something more stern. Her slender thumb ran over Lyse’s knuckles, prompting the taller woman to pull her hand away.
“New scars,” the sorceress duly noted.
“It’s nothing.”
“You haven’t been visiting the medics after your battles, have you?”
“What’s a bloody knuckle or two?”
“Lyse,” she attempts to reprimand. Though intimidated, Lyse dismisses her concern, not wanting her to worry.
“I’m fine, ‘Shtola. I’ve been through worse.” The infamous stubbornness of a Hext. A part of her wants to lob a stone at her head, but a larger part wants to embrace her, to plead with her to take better care of herself for her own sake, as selfish as it may sound.
Noticing the tension growing between them, the Hyur quickly changes the subject. “So, uh, how’d you end up becoming a sorceress? Was it a difficult adjustment?”
Y’shtola obliges the shift in topic, not wanting to spoil the rare and precious time she gets to spend alone with Lyse. She will, however, be sure to keep a stricter eye on the firebrand if the situation permits her to. No matter how stubborn the blonde may be, Y’shtola can be equally as stubborn, forcing the blonde to eventually yield more often than not.
“Not quite. Both classes have their foundations in magicks. T’was only a matter of switching between the element of the aether. Once I understood the concept of exchanging the two, sorcery was not difficult to grasp whatsoever.”
“Element of aether?”
“Conjury requires absorption of aether from the elements, be it earth, wind, or water, whereas sorcery requires latent aether within.”
“Is that so? ...Do you think I would be able to learn?”
Although the question caught her unguarded, she was not surprised. Lyse always had an insatiable curiosity. “You wish to learn how to use magick?”
The monk nodded her head excitedly.
“Are you aware of the foundations?”
“Papalymo once lectured me on it...though I kind of lost interest halfway through his speech,” Lyse chuckled.
“Oh, Lyse," Y'shtola shook her head. "While I do not object of your learning of magicks, it will be difficult to teach if you do not understand the basis of aetherology.”
“What about a quick crash course in conjury? In return, I’ll give you a quick crash course in the monk arts!” Y’shtola can practically hear the woman grin. It would certainly be amusing, but also reeked of a disaster in the making. Even if it was, the sorceress could not find it in her heart to refuse her, especially if it meant more time spent with her.
“As you wish, but I do hope you know I expect nothing but the best from you, Commander Hext,” she playfully sneered.
Goosebumps engulf Lyse as the title rolls off Y’shtola’s lips. Gods, if only she knew the effect she had on her. She smiled in response, saluting her. “Commander’s honor. I expect nothing less from you as well, Mistress Rhul.”
Y’shtola grinned, handing over her staff. “Take this. Having a staff will help with casting.”
“Whoa, this is heavier than it looks.”
“Please do not break it. I cannot return to the First to obtain a replacement,” she pleaded.
“Of course not! So, how does conjury work again?”
“As mentioned, conjury requires the absorption of aether from the elements. For example, if you wish to conjure stone, you must draw forth aether from the elements of earth, and concentrate that aether into your staff until it manifests as a stone.”
“Draw forth aether and concentrate it into the staff…?”
“Precisely.”
Lyse let out a sigh. “Alright, well, here goes nothing.”
The monk fell silent, focusing her concentration on the task at hand. Y’shtola watched intently, patiently waiting to see if her disciple would pick up on white magick. With her special vision, she was able to see aether flow into the staff, though not the amount required to conjure a stone. At the least, the aether flow was consistent.
A few more moments had passed when the Miqo’te noticed her staff start to lightly glow. It was working! Lyse was actually beginning to cast stone! Pride filled Y’shtola, who quietly cheered on her student as to not disrupt her focus.
“Gah!”
The flow of aether was abruptly cut, and from the magicks emerged...a pebble.
“That...was more difficult...than expected,” Lyse panted, kneeling over.
“But it was for naught. At the least, you manifested a pebble.”
“Is that meant to be a slight?”
“Absolutely not. For someone who has no foundation in magicks whatsoever, I consider it quite impressive you were able to even conjure a pebble,” she encouraged.
“Ugh, all that concentration and all I get is a tiny gods damned pebble,” she scoffed, handing over the staff and immediately dropping to the floor.
Y’shtola chuckled at the hot-headed woman. “Do not expect to be summoning large boulders in such a brief period of time. It has taken me many moons to hone my skills to this level.”
“If only it were more like chakra...wait a minute!” The monk suddenly jumped up, surprising the sorceress.
“‘Shtola, can I see your staff again?” She handed it over, eyeing Lyse suspiciously. “Alright, let’s see if this theory works.”
Her student fell silent once more, falling into deep concentration. Before her startled eyes, Y’shtola again saw the passage of aether into her cane, although in much greater force this time around. This was a vast improvement over her first attempt. What changed?
“There!” Lyse shouted, manifesting a significantly larger stone this try. The rock flew past, landing a few malms away from the two.
Mouth agape, she stared at the monk. “How did you…?”
“You like?” Lyse let out a hearty laugh. “If you think about it, the concept of aether and chakra go hand in hand. Unlike conjury, monks internally channel aether through training and meditation. And, with this aether we’ve accumulated, we can then unlock chakra points, allowing aether to flow more freely within our bodies, and be redirected immediately if needs be. I just used that concept with magicks, using external aether from the elements instead, and considering it as ‘internal’ aether we monks use. We channel this into the staff, a chakra point if you will, and once it has gathered enough aether, the chakra point unlocks, or in this case, manifests a stone. Recognizing this stone as our aether, it can then be redirected, allowing it to be used as a projectile!”
Lyse was intelligent, much more than she gave herself credit for, more than anyone gave her credit for, truly. Her studies with Raubahn and Widargelt have paid off, and Y’shtola could not be more pleased with her progress. She was truly growing into her role as Commander.
“A fascinating theory, Lyse. I’m glad you were able to put it in practice and succeed,” she complimented her wholeheartedly.
Between the praise and the way Y’shtola’s eyes looked at her ever so tenderly, Lyse felt the heat rise to her cheeks once more. Attempting to hide her embarrassment, she coughed. “Well, with that said, it’s your turn.”
It was now Y’shtola who sighed.
“Oh, come on, it’s not as bad as you think. If I was able to pick up the concept of conjury, you would most definitely pick up the concept of the monk arts!” Lyse stated with glee, carefully placing Y’shtola’s staff against a statue and picking up a thin slab of stone. “Here, your objective is to punch through this slab right here.”
The Miqo’te reached out her hand, feeling and gauging the stone. The mere thought of forcing her hand through this stone pained her already.
“Very well,” the mage responded hesitantly, closing her eyes and focusing her aether into her fist. This time, it was Lyse who watched her intently, waiting to see the latent strength of her companion. After a moment, her eyes opened, fixating on the object in front of her. She propelled her fist forward, but…
“Ouch.” Spoken simply in such a dignified way that was so Y’shtola. Lyse couldn’t help but laugh. However, her amusement was cut short when white eyes suddenly glanced up, glaring daggers at her.
“I, uh, wasn’t laughing at you failing. Not at all,” she straightened her demeanor, not wanting to earn her student’s ire.
The sorceress sighed once again. “I had focused my aether into my fist. Was that not enough?” She questioned, rubbing the hand she had punched with.
“Is your hand alright?” Lyse questioned, her voice wrought with concern.
“‘Tis but a small injury,” she responded, using her magick to heal her swollen fist. Certainly an advantage of being a magick user. Perhaps if Lyse honed her own skills in white magick, she would be able to heal herself, therefore allowing herself to jump quickly back into battle. The firebrand pondered this thought to her amusement, and at Y’shtola’s undeniable displeasure. She can already hear the older woman scolding her for thinking such ideas.
“Mayhaps if I draw aether from the elements to supplement mine own latent aether, that would help to break the slab. Let us try this once more.”
Again she closed her eyes, concentrating both internal and external sources of aether into her fist. A brief moment later, she strikes the slab, successfully breaking it into two, much to Lyse's delight.
“You did it!” She cheered before going to retrieve Y’shtola’s staff. “See? It wasn't that hard! Now, let’s try one more thing.”
“Oh dear…”
“It’s simple! All you have to do is punch through a stone I’ve conjured! Easy enough, no?”
Y’shtola chuckled, deciding to humor her. “You are just full of ideas today, aren’t you? Very well. Whenever you are ready.”
Both women prepared themselves, putting into practice what each learned of the other’s respective class. Lyse moved first, casting a stone towards Y’shtola’s direction. Meanwhile, Y’shtola focused on the incoming projectile, directing aether into her hand. Upon contact with her fist, the stone dismantled, breaking apart into smaller pieces. The two could not help but grin at each other, expressing pride at their small but momentous growth.
“That was fun, wouldn’t you say?” The monk beamed.
“It was certainly fascinating indeed. Though, if I may, I think I shall stick to my magicks on the battlefield.”
“Agreed. I think I’ll stick with my fists,” Lyse responded, punching into her palm. It earned a soft laugh from her dear friend, a laugh that filled her stomach with butterflies and made her heart beat uncontrollably.
“However, do not think our session over yet,” Y’shtola spoke, retrieving her staff from Lyse. “I have one final task for you.”
“Oh?” The thought of another challenge excited the restless monk. “And that is?”
The sorceress simply smiled, conjuring a stone wall before Lyse. The wall did not stand for long, for a few breaths later a fist broke through, demolishing her cast into a crumbling mess. With Y’shtola in sight once again, the blonde smiled back at her. Unfortunately for her, it quickly turned into a frown upon noticing a fireball being lunged at her.
She immediately parried the attack, dodging to the side before returning her attention to the mage who was now smirking coyly. “Hey! That was unwarranted!”
“I need to keep you on your toes, my dear. Besides, I haven’t seen just how fast you’ve gotten with your formal training.”
Lyse grinned. “Alright then, bring it on!”
Y’shtola began, shooting a flurry of ice and fire at the Hyur who proceeded to zip through each cast effortlessly. Her speed improved considerably where even pinpointing her location was now difficult. Unbeknownst to her, Lyse was inching towards her with every evasion. Once she appeared close enough to Y’shtola, she tackled her to the ground, laughing along the way.
“Now that was unwarranted,” the Miqo’te groaned before eventually breaking into laughter alongside her companion. Ordinarily, such an act would irk her, but not with Lyse, especially with their bodies so close, with her arm draped across her, with her breath tickling her skin.
“Hey, ‘Shtola?” Lyse questioned once their laughter subsided.
“Yes, Lyse?”
“Do you want to watch the sunset?”
“That sounds delightful,” she answered as the two propped up, sitting closely to one another.
Lyse looked over at Y’shtola, breathless at the sight of her. The way the orange hues of the sun illuminated her skin, kissing the beautiful features that Lyse had grown to love. Behind her usual stern demeanor hid a countenance so calm and at peace, and her heart fluttered knowing Y’shtola allowed herself to lower her guard in her company. The sight of it all was so...ethereal, taking all of Lyse’s restraint to not hold her in her arms, to not kiss her then and there, to not tell her how much she loved her and how much she truly meant to her.
“I miss this,” was all she could muster out.
When times were simpler than saving the world from one cataclysmic event to another. When war wasn’t being waged a few malms away at the country’s borders. When summoning primals was the only worry they had. When Lyse was still a Scion, where the two often spent their time together eating, studying, and chatting, albeit under her charade as Yda.
Looking back on it, all their problems and issues were so elementary compared to the dilemmas they currently faced. If only she could turn back time, to enjoy the simpler days and bask in Y’shtola’s companionship that was so rare nowadays.
Three simple words, yet three words that bore the entirety of Lyse Hext’s love and affection for Y’shtola Rhul.
Y’shtola glanced over at her with a tenderness that tempted Lyse to kiss her, and so she did, her emotions trumping her self control. The blonde leaned in close, gently placing a kiss on the woman’s lips, feeling sparks ignite throughout her body. She wondered if Y’shtola felt the same.
“Forgive me,” she apologized as she pulled away. “I couldn’t help myself.”
“Lyse,” Y’shtola silenced her, pulling her back in for a much deeper and more passionate kiss. Lyse returned her kiss with great fervor, releasing all the emotions she kept bottled up for the past summers.
The two do not say a word to another after their long overdue kiss, instead simply smiling at each other, their actions implicating everything that needs to be said. Lyse wraps her hand around Y’shtola’s slender fingers while Y’shtola brings her head to rest against Lyse’s broad shoulders. They cherish their remaining time together in companionable silence, basking in each other’s presence.
Duty calls for them to be separated on the morrow to their chagrin. It will be difficult to part, especially upon the realization of the feelings they kept from one another for so long, but at the least, there is something to look forward to returning to.
To each other.