Work Text:
Pálmar Ferðwesfv spent most of his life cold, alone, and always told to follow the Green Word. It started from a young age, that was when he was first taught to hide. Taken from his mother during his 4th Ostara after he passed the age of 11 wheels; never to be a part of the outside world or with the rest of his people again. Many wheels passed, 70 or so, He was trained hard to fight, hunt, and care for himself until he was finally granted mastery in the art of the hunt. It was then that he was expected to do what his mentor did with him. To go to a village, attempt to sire new young, and bring any young jack back with him. The thought of participating in the same act that brought him pain in his youth was unbearable.
When he turned to his mentor, the man he view as a father, and cried, damned the green word, and refused to continue the tradition, his mentor gently placed an iridescent potion in his hand, and stated; “this is the only way you can go out there in the world, explore and still be able to come back. Know that if anyone finds out, you will no longer be welcome.” Without hesitation, Persy drank from the bottle of his first Fantasia. It tasted sweet, and light; It tasted like the best thing he’d ever drank before; like a pure fantasy. He went to bed and dreamed; dreamed of the being he wanted to be and how he wanted to look, and when he woke up it became true.
That’s how he started pretending. First, he tried to be a female Hyur, Persephone Abbott. He went with something almost opposite to himself in race and gender. She received her new name from a traveling merchant passing through The Corvos Narrow. The kind Hyur had provided him with care, how to live as a female Hyur and safe transport to Aldenard, eventually settling in Limsa Lominsa. The change of height was something to get used to but she was kind, gentle, and naive to the world of exploring, adventure, and battle. She was a summoner, friend to carbuncles and egi’s alike. Life was simple, uncomplicated and everything was so new.
But soon he grew restless again, so another Fantasia was procured he became a female Miqo’te. She decided to keep the same namesake, despite it not fitting the naming convention of the species. Her new identity was mischievous, very adventurous, wanting to explore everything, challenge everything and be in every profession there was. But with the new form came new instincts. There was a caution and mistrust in this new body, driven by instinct.
The itch came again, and with it came a curiosity, so he choose to become a female Viera. She was elegant, regal even, knew what she liked, and did everything to get it. Glamour was the main motivator for a lot of what she did and she loved to dance. Dancing in the city but also in battle, the Chakrams like beautiful blades of lighting sweeping in and out of battle. She was his favorite, like putting on too big but familiar clothes. In the end, even that wasn’t enough to satisfy.
The itch continued to come, before finally settling on something closest to how he felt at heart; A male Miqo’te. This new form felt similar to how he felt as a female viera. He changed his name to just Persy, less formal, more inviting. Everything he learned from his previous lives helped him grow and settle into this new body and life.
Throughout all of the roles he played, some things were the same. His new given name, the white-streaked auburn hair, and his eyes. One is a deep blue while the other is bright green.
His life was more balanced in this role he picked, living with friends in the Lavender Beds, a place reminiscent of home. His role as Warrior of Light surprised him in a way. He made friends with the Scions, an even bigger surprise. So much adventure, excitement, loss, love, and friendship, more than he was expecting when he left home all those years ago but he would not change it for the world.
When his journey to The First happened, it was something of a dream and a nightmare. Tragedy had befallen the people of the shard, who knew nothing but blinding, unyielding light for 100 years. The end was nigh, but a determined figure dragged Persy and his friends from the source, with naught but the limitless power of the Crystal Tower and sheer will alone. Through hardship and pain, a bond was formed with the Crystal Exarch, who was so new and yet so familiar at times.
With the last Light Warden’s defeat, Persy knew his adventure had come to an end, there was too much light and he was going to die. A sort of peace had settled in his heart as he thought about everything he had experienced in his long life, full of more adventure than he ever expected. There was also a sadness that his new family would never know him truly. This was his end though and he had made peace with it.
Then, like a hero of old, the Crystal Exarch appeared, spouting nonsense about stealing the power to escape this world, but Persy saw it for what it was. A sacrifice. Only someone willing to die for something would take on this much light, this much pain. The ruse was not much of one, as the scions quickly parsed out. When the power transfer became too strong, and his cloak flew back to reveal G’raha Tia, Persy was not as surprised as one might expect. From previous experience with the Seeker in the exploration of the crystal tower from the source, and his selfless sacrifice to close the tower, to protect everyone. With how mysterious the Crystal Exarch was, to Urianger’s “prophetic vision”, and the appearance of the Crystal Tower itself, The only person he could have been was G’raha Tia.
This G’raha, with his calm confidence in what he knew and the shy hesitance but still bravery in the face of the unknown was endearing. After many years of caring for himself, it shaped him in new ways, ways that Persy wanted to get to know; in ways, Persy was intimately familiar with himself. After trials and tribulations, the First was saved and the Scions were able to return home with G’raha in tow, awake, young, and ready for a new adventure.
With him, falling in love came as a surprise. It snuck up on Persy, uninvited, but not unwanted in the end. This wonderful, selfless person, who cared so much, made his way into Persy’s heart and got comfortable. To Persy, G’raha’s admiration for him was obvious, and even though many before had fallen for Persy, this was the first time he had ever felt the same way back.
With things picking up again on The Source, Maybe he can finally explore his relationships with everyone.
Well...
Who is Persy kidding, he’s hiding and pretending, and when everyone finds out, it will all be ruined.
Fourchenault Leveilleur is a piece of trash, a garbage excuse for a parent really. There was no escaping that, no matter what excuses may be given, nothing is a good enough reason to so coldly dismiss your children like that. To disown them for simply having the audacity to have a different opinion than you. Did Fourchenault’s father disown him when he shared his differing opinion on intervening in the conflict of the calamity those years ago? Persy was looking forward to going to Old Sharlayan to give that man a dressing down. Maybe this was too much of a touchy subject for Persy, who hasn’t really been around his father figure in years. The Scions were essentially his new family and the thought of people they care about hurting them made his blood boil.
“Persy, you seem even more troubled than usual. What’s wrong, my friend?” A voice spoke from behind Persy as he paced around the aetheryte in Mor Dhona. Spinning on his heel, tail straight up in surprise, he sees Y’shtola standing not too far from the aetheryte itself, casually inspecting it.
“Shtola, you startled me!” Persy exclaims, putting his hands on his hips. When Y’shtola only side-eyes him after that, he relaxes and itches at his nose briefly
“One would assume you are used to being aware of your surroundings. Whatever the issue is, it must be consuming.” Y’shtola moves away from her inspection to give Persy her full attention, unseeing eyes intense as she studies his aether. Under her scrutiny, he blushes from embarrassment, reluctant to share his thoughts out loud. “You know I’m always willing to lend a listening ear. Is this about our most recent bout with the Sharlayan Council?”
“It. . . Is. I’m concerned for Alphinaud and Alisaie.” He mumbles, shifting his weight from left to right. “Fourchenault for whatever reason came personally to say no to the Elder Seedseer’s face, and then to so publicly disown his own children, I can't help but feel anger, and agitation. They’re supposed to be his kids, his family! To do something like that makes no sense to me!”
“Ah. Families all work in different ways, maybe there’s a reason for what he did that we do not know yet?”
“No excuses! Would you do anything like that to your sister? To us? In front of everyone?”
“Well, no, of course not, but-“
“Exactly! Your immediate response is no, so what convoluted societal reasoning could possibly be used to do such a thing?!”
“Persy. . .” She starts gently, hand reaching out to stop him. “I love all of you as much as I love my own family but holding that much hate towards someone is never a good thing for you, no matter how much you feel they deserve it. What he did was wrong but we don’t know the whole story.”
“I know, I know. . . It’s just so hard for me to separate how I feel from the situation. I love both of them so much, I just want them to be happy, after everything they’ve been given.” Persy gives Y’shtola a pain-filled look, beseeching her to understand. The twins were as close to his own kids as he was going to get at this point.
“And I’m not telling you to. How you feel is valid but you can not let it cloud your future actions”
“It just. . . It feels too close to the public shaming that would happen when one from the colony would-“ Persy quickly cut himself off, realizing what he was about to say. Y’shtola’s eyes widened, staring more intently at Persy’s aether as he fidgeted even more on the spot, ears swiveling.
“Persy, what are you-“ Y’shtola starts, hand raised in a calming gesture, the confusion clear on her face.
Like cornered prey, he did the only thing he could think of to do. He bolted, yelling “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go!”
This was the start of the frayed thread that was Persy’s careful cover splaying out and coming apart.
The second major battle at Carteneau is over. With Fandanial and the Telophoroi held back, for now, Persy was able to take a breath only but for a moment. They’ve discovered how the towers were able to summon their “primals” and now have to figure out a way to disrupt that. Things are ramping up faster than he could have predicted and with the mysterious figure that spoke to him in the field of Mor Dhona, Persy has been on edge. Whoever that person was, they harshly reminded him of the times when Hydaelyn still spoke to him.
The twins seem to be more hopeful and despondent in equal measures. Both of them seem to attach themselves to him, in their own special ways. Alphinaud tended to come over and inquire about his health, or if he’s eaten, and also to show a proposal or paper he is particularly proud of. Alisaie was always showing Persy anything new she has learned for battle or even for healing. They’ve been putting on a brave face and speaking with the confidence of someone trying to convince themselves that it’ll be okay in the end. Alphinaud is in planning mode, strategies are being discussed and he seems to be in the zone. Sometimes, but only briefly, he’ll stare off to space and brood. Alisaie and Estinien quickly distract him from it though. Alisaie herself has seemed to redirect all her anger and sadness into her training. Every day, she reminds Persy to never underestimate a Red Mage’s ability to damage the ever-living hell out of anything in their path. They’re probably the closest Persy will ever get to having kids.
He’s also been avoiding Y’shtola since the near slip, not looking forward to having a confrontation about what was almost said. She's been giving him glances meaning-filled looks, almost as if inspecting his aether for answers. Confusion is plain on her beautiful face, as well as a small bit of disappointment. Whatever she’s found, she has found to be lacking. He hadn’t realized how affected he would be by all of this.
Urianger and Thancred have been conversing about their upcoming jaunt to Thavnair and Garlemald. They’ve gotten close since The First, more in sync in a way only two people who temporarily parented a kid could get. Both of them are practical and always willing to do what’s best for everyone above themselves. Estinien has also been around them a bit too, discussing infiltration methods and strategies, though he splits his time between them and Alphinaud. With the way things have been happening, none of them have had the time to sit and chat for a bit with Persy.
Tataru has been in a frenzy, making clothes, getting supplies together, securing rides for everyone, and even trying to coax pesky into sharing with her. She can tell he’s upset and is very obvious in her worry, what with making Persy as many sandwiches as she can. He’s tried to ease her worry but any attempt he has made has just made it worse.
Krile seems preoccupied with studying the data that they’ve been able to gather from the tower. Ever the student, she’s focused and has little time to do anything else but sleep, eat, and bathe.
As for G’raha. . . He’s been trying to help everyone all at once really. It’s obvious he’s getting himself in over his head splitting his time like that. The need to be useful, what with him being so new to the Scions, seems to be taking its own toll.
Persy Is. . .resigned really. He feels close to the precipice of something big and is unsure as to where he’ll be by the end of this all. When the final days are averted, and they will be even if it’s the last thing Persy does, where will everyone be? Will everyone be together still? This might be Persy’s only family left after all is said and done, but if everyone goes their separate ways, For them to leave, never to know him.
He had to do it. . . He had to come clean. . .
This may be his last chance to be who he really is with the people he loves.
Everything was set, all ready to sail out to the unknown. . . Or at least the unknown to Persy, being one of the few who have not actually been to Old Sharlayan. It would’ve probably helped if he had actually been paying attention to any of the explanations of the place being told, but his thoughts have been heavy. Though maybe not as heavy as the bottle of Fantasia Dispel he had in his bag. It felt like two tons of fear and anxiety made material.
The Scions have all gathered around in The Rising Stones, mostly everyone else gone. Urianger and Thancred were by Tataru’s desk, looking over papers and talking amongst themselves. Alisaie and Y’shtola were sitting at one of the round tables, seeming to do their own thing. The rest were milling about, packing, or just talking with various people. When Persy walks over to them, shuffling his bag off his shoulders, he gives a deep sigh.
Here goes nothing.
“Everyone . . .” He starts, drawing their attention to him. “I feel I have something important to disclose to you all.” He stuck with a more formal tone, though he usually does when anxiety is eating away at him. It’s a habit he picked up from his time when working with the Ishgardians. His tail was flicking involuntarily, ears twitching and swiveling, body taut and on edge.
“Loosen up, my friend, you look as if you’re about to tell us someone has died,” Thancred says jovially from where he’s leaning against the desk. He then suddenly looks serious “Wait, no one has died, right? Was just a joke really.”
“No, no one has died-“
“Then there is no reason to be so nervous with us!” He was back to his more cocky smile, body relaxing again.
“I. . .” Persy Starts again, ears still twitching. “I’ve done something that you all may not like.”
“Even so,” Y’shtola starts from where she is seated, eyes locked on Percy’s when he looks over. “I doubt it is something so serious as to be this nervous.” Instead of appeasing Persy like she had hoped it would, all it did was build up more dread in him.
“Well. . .” He starts again but his throat feels like it's closing up a bit.
“Oh for goodness sake Persy, just spit it out! We’re your friends, have a little faith.” Alisaie gives the most exacerbated look as she states this, even rolling her eyes.
“Prayeth thee, Alloweth our comrade speak else we interrupt any further,” Urianger states, making Alisaie look a little contrite.
Silence filled the room like a damp, too-heavy blanket. Persy looked at each of the Scions; Alphinaud was uncharacteristically quiet, but his bright eyes were looking at Persy with open trust. Tataru and Krile were paused in their preparations, eyes wide and curious. G’raha was also quiet, looking at Persy with a knowing gaze. With everyone looking at him, Persy reached into his bag and pulled out the object of his fear, placing it on the closest table. The Fantasia Dispel.
Krile, Urianger, and Y’shtola give quiet gasps, looking at each other with just a hint of shock and disbelief on their faces. They were the 3 most likely to know what this was on sight, being the more studious of the bunch, Y’shtola’s eyes may not see in the traditional sense but the inherent aether in the bottle alone should have given it away to her. The rest were either looking at it with curiosity or looking between the people who seemed to know what it was. The only one still looking at Persy was G’raha; A small, sympathetic smile gracing his face as he did so.
“I... Have not been honest with you all about who I am.” Persy starts, eyes pained and ears pinned back to his head in shame and guilt. “This is a Fantasia Dispel, with it, it’ll remove any Fantasia effects on me and show me as my true form.”
“Fantasia?” Thancred starts, hand to chin in thought.
“Fantasia is a potion that allows the user to transform their body into whatever or whomever they would like. That said, the Dispel should remove any changes” Y’shtola looks over Persy as she speaks, a kind of understanding gracing her face. “I hate to say this, but some of your behaviors make sense now. Your name was very obviously different but sometimes Miqo’te chose to go by pseudonyms. However, you’ve not got the typical male Miqo’te behaviors that I am used to. I assumed that it was due to not being raised in a tribe or being an orphan. I see now that it’s because you are not even a Miqo’te at all.”
“He is not,” G’raha speaks up finally, with certainty in his voice. Persy looked at him in bewilderment for a moment before realizing that of course, G'raha would know the difference between a male Miqo’te and someone pretending to be one.
The twins give each other a look, confusion clear on their faces.
“Tis True? Thou is not a Miqo’te?” Urianger walked over to the table to inspect the bottle more closely. “Prayeth tell, why go through with such a ruse?”
Persy stayed silent, arms crossed with hands grabbing their opposite elbows, tail swishing. This is the part that worried him the most. If he went through with telling them and showing himself, the possibility of him returning home after becomes zero. If his new family, new colony rejects him then where will he go afterward?
“My dear friend,” G’raha sends a gentle smile Persy’s way as he starts, moving close to him, radiating kindness. “I know most times, you find action better than speaking. You’ve brought the bottle here with a purpose, yes? Would it not be easier to show us? Maybe then, it will be easier for you to speak.”
Persy looks into G’raha’s eyes, nothing but acceptance and kindness deep in his eyes. He looks to the others as well, confused but trusting faces as they wait for him to decide what to do. Do they really trust him still? When the face they’ve all gotten to know is not his true one? With a decisive nod to everyone, Persy grabs the bottle, uncorks it, and downs it all in one go. The taste is bitter, sour, and the opposite of what a Fantasia tastes like; being brought back to reality.
Nothing happens at first, leaving Persy to look at the empty bottle in confusion before suddenly, an explosion similar to a smoke bomb going off happens around him and his body starts to tingle. He saw the transformation trickle away, falling off his hands like sand. The smoke persisted for a moment after the tingling stopped; Persy could already tell he was back to how he was before. His field of view was taller, head heavier from the weight of his ear increasing and balance shifted with the loss of his tail. As it cleared, his family could finally see him and this time actually him. His hair was the same auburn with white tips (the coloring also extending to his ears as well), eyes were the same as well, one blue and one green, though their shading was a bit lighter. The hairstyle was different, wavy chin-length hair with half of it pulled out of his face with a clip. He was paler, with dark circles around his eyes, making him look tired.
“You’re a Male Viera!” Tataru says in delight, staring even further up at him than they had before. “Oh! That explains quite a lot actually, I remember hearing that they seldom leave the forests and mountains they reside in.
“I... I have to say, I was not expecting this.” Thancred looks him over, eyes curious.
“Pardon me, but this doesn’t really explain to me why you hid this from us” Alphinuad starts, eyebrows furrowed as he looks him over. “While it may not be common to see one, why hide it? Especially when you are the Warrior of Light, a bit of attention doesn’t seem to bother you.
Thancred and Estinien share a look before Estinien speaks up.
“During my travels around Ilsabard, I learned some about Viera. Male Viera is separated from their female counterparts after their majority; they hunt and protect the wilds by the tribe while female ones deal with relations, politics, money, and everything else done in a settlement.” His voice is a bit gruff, but not unkind, as he explains to Alphinaud. “Male Viera are expected to stay away from the public eye and the main tribe as they do their duties, if one were to leave they would be shunned and never welcomed back. Do I have that right, Persy?”
“Ah.” Y’shtola breathes, shooting Persy an understanding look.
“Yes.” Persy finally speaks, a voice different from what it once was. As he continues, his voice wavers and tears start to shine in his eyes. “Yes, the Wood-warder mentor of our group could tell I wasn't happy there. . . but I couldn't leave. The leaders of the main village have documented thoroughly all of us who are on the outskirts. If I were to leave and be seen out and about by one of my female kind, I would be reported to colony leaders and marked as shunned. He pulled me aside one day and gave me my first Fantasia bottle. So that I may go out and come back when I am ready. I’ve. . . not looked like myself in a long time. . .”
“I have to say, my friend, I knew you were not a male Miqo’te, but I had no idea you were Viera.” G’raha looks to Persy, placing a gentle hand on his up arm. Eyes alight with mischief, he speaks. “Tis good to see your face.”
Persy laughs a watery laugh, smiling despite the nerves. “Ah, Tis good to have my face be seen.”
“Well then, if your heart and soul are the same then why should I care how you present yourself on the outside!” Alisaie cuts in abruptly, getting in Persy’s face and pointing at him. “If you think a little thing like this will scare us off then I’ll gladly beat the thought right out of you.”
Chuckles all around as Persy looks into Alisaie’s eyes, the sincerity in them overwhelming. Thancred comes over and gives him a hearty pat on the back, Urianger close behind to also enjoy the camaraderie. All come over, aside from Estinien, who just smirked from where he leaned against the wall. Alphinaud is the last to make it to him, his eyes bright and shiny, holding back emotion.
“I feel I speak for everyone when I say you are dear to us, and even if you’ve hidden your true appearance from us, your very being has touched our hearts and souls. We would know you, anywhere.” Hand on his heart, Alphinaud closes his eyes and a tear escapes his eye. “I am sorry you felt that you could not tell us before but glad am I that you can now.”
Persy finally gave in to his tears then, happier ones now, pulling the twin into a tight hug with one hand while the other grabbed Alisaie and pulled her in as well. The two of them, are so young, bright, and full of hope for the future. How silly to think that they might scorn him. That any of them might. He nuzzled at both their heads, tears drying quickly as they hugged back. The others came close, some rubbing his head with others patting his back.
This really was his family, and he had made the right choice
As he sat on one of the bastions that circled the Mor Dhona aetheryte, Persy was once again reminded of how much he loved the fantastical energy in this area. It was also weird to feel the wind blowing against his ears again. It had been so long that he had forgotten what it felt like; refreshing is what came to mind now. He shifted his gaze towards the lake, staring at the remains of Midgarsomer fondly. It has been a while since he’s chatted to the old man, maybe he should check in. A flare of light to the left draws his attention towards Syrcus Tower; a bit of sunlight hitting it just right. With a look at it, he is reminded of how it looked as night had grazed it for the first time in the Crystarium.
“Ah, there…you are!” A familiar voice calls, out of breath. “My…goodness! This sure was a climb.” Persy turns to see G’raha’s head pop out from the hatch entrance to the top of the tower. The ladder below was indeed a long one; which was why he himself had flown up instead.
“G’raha! You could have just called from below, I would have gone down to bring you up.” Persy gets up, rushing over to help his friend the rest of the way through the hatch. G’raha smiles gratefully, slumping onto the ground to catch his breath.
“Well…I was hoping to surprise you…”
“Surprised I am! I don't even take the ladder.” Persy laughs, seating himself down next to the Miqo’te; nose and ears twitching in happiness. G’raha’s ear gives a little twitch to the loud noise, his tail swishing gently before settling down to lay slightly behind Persy, almost cradling him without touching.
They sit in companionable silence, enjoying the wind and fresh air. It was one of the days when it was actually clear and did not have the notable purple haze about it. Persy could feel the question he’d been wanting to ask build in his throat but he was loath to break the peace. But reluctant as he was, it built up too much
“How did you know?” Persy blurted out suddenly, locking mismatched eyes with bright red. G’raha quirked an eyebrow, bemused and looking a bit confused. “About me not being a Miqo’te.”
“Well, how do you think I knew?” Amusement was clear in his voice as his ears twitched happily, eyes squinting in contentment.
“Was it something that happened in your alternate future?”
He shakes his head.
“Did I say something to give it away?”
Another head shake.
“Was it something I did?”
“Close.” He states, leaning marginally closer to him. Locking eyes with Persy again, he gives a slow blink, his red tail coming around to wrap around Persy’s lower back, the tip touching his stomach. “I am a Miqo’te myself, you know; a male one at that. There are ways in which male Miqo’te, particularly seekers of the sun, interact with each other to show friendship and companionship. Whenever I would do something to indicate I wanted to be friends or at least friendly, you didn’t react at all.”
“Oh,” Persy felt a bit stupid now, realizing that there would have been no way to fool a male Miqo’te.
“Of course, it wasn’t necessarily a dead giveaway, I thought maybe it was an indicator that you grew up as an orphan or something of the like.” He continues, ears twitching happily as he breaks down his thought process. “Your name as well was also odd, a Miqo’te rarely ever goes under pseudonyms. And finally, there were the smells of refined poppies about you, a flower only really used to make Fantasia, due to its rarity. It all came together after I was able to identify the smell. Honestly, if I hadn't grown up in Sharlayan, I would have never figured it out.”
The proud look on G’raha’s face almost did Persy in, really.
“I see.” Persy gave in to the urge to reach over and give a small scratch behind the Miqo’te’s ear, which earned him a surprised purring sound from the other male. G’raha gave a slight cough, a blush staining his cheeks, before making eye contact again and giving another slow, content blink. Too cute, honestly.
“We all care for you, Persy and something like this would not deter us easily.”
“Thank you”
“Now then, I think you’ve spent enough time brooding up here”
“Brooding?!”
“Shall we?” G’raha gets up, holding his hand out to Persy in an offer to help him, laughing joyously.
With a laugh of his own, Persy reaches up and clasps the offered hand, giving in and using the leverage provided to get up. Then, with a mischievous smirk, Persy pulls a whistle out of his pocket, grabs even tighter onto G’raha’s hand, and rushes them off the Tower, maniacal laughter covering the high-pitched screeching from G’raha. Under them appears a big, strong Chocobo; outfitted with a two-seated saddle. Persy lands in the front portion and uses the rest of the falling momentum to right G’raha into the seat behind him. As soon as he hits the seat, he’s wrapped his arms around Persy’s waist, tightly, eyes squeezed shut as he catches his breath. Persy laughs again as he looks behind himself at his passenger, who looks up at him when he hears it.
“Next time, a bit of warning is in order, don’t you think?!” G’raha’s eyes are bright with amusement, the adrenaline from the fall residing.
“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?”
They laugh together as they fly down to the aetheryte plaza below.
Persy now knows, whatever trials or troubles lay ahead; the people he’s surrounded himself with, his family, will be there with him every step of the way.
To the very end.