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Silence followed the Warrior wherever he walked. Eyes followed the Warrior wherever he walked. Had it not been for the way Alphinaud had grasped his hand as they walked through town, he would never have known the kinds of things people said about him. Though, he still did not know. He could, however, very easily wager a guess.
Silence followed the Warrior of Light wherever he walked. Gentle touches across his shoulders from friends who told him where to go and what to do, where others could not, all followed him wherever he walked. Was it easier now? To have someone communicate for him?
Not particularly.
Can you please write it down for me?
It was a paper that had been crumpled up and straightened out so many times that it was nearly falling apart. It was a notepiece that Tataru had written for him, for when Alphinaud could not accompany him, especially now that their friends were all gone.
It was a notepiece he had in his pocket, one he had pulled out every time someone had spoken at him. One that had taught him to keep his gaze glued to the ground, lest he catch the grimace or sneer upon the other person’s face.
When his note was not returned to him, he looked up, curious, then—
The nobleman threw tattered parchment in his face.
The Warrior of Light stood there, frozen. Even as the man he was meant to provide aid for had already stalked off, he stood there. There was no pain, no hurt or embarrassment. Mayhap a bit of frustration, but there was nothing that had taken hold of his heart or mind. He kneeled to pick up the paper. It folded easily in his hands, wet from the ice and snow, so he threw it away in the bin as soon as he had returned to Fortemps Manor.
—
Tataru had written him another note.
'I know you can write it yourself,' she had signed, 'but I also know you become agitated if you cannot have something close to original.'
She patted his arm with a smile. 'We can write the spares together.'
Alphinaud was waving his hands too fast, too sharp and frustrated for the Warrior to understand what he was trying to communicate. Realising his words were not getting to him, the young Scion settled for writing it on paper, ink splattering and jagged, nothing at all like his normal script.
If I was Alisaie, Ishgard would have one less nobleman.
The Warrior felt himself smile. He picked up the quill and wrote back, And here I thought you could never feel anger.
You thought wrong. I will have Count Edmont assist me in speaking with him personally.
So scary :)
I will draw on your face at night, I know where you retire.
The Warrior felt himself smile. He ruffled Alphinaud’s hair and folded up the note, slipping it in his bag where the rest of his saved letters had gone. Though it was initially intended to hold only necessities, it had ended up into something more like a delivery moogle’s satchel. Potions be damned, it held physical proof that his friends truly loved him.
'Thank you.'
Alphinaud’s frown finally melted. 'Of course.'
—
Most often when he and Aymeric had the time to spend together, it was Aymeric who carried around the writing book for them. Typically it was already open by the time the Warrior had arrived, yet it was closed this next time, with the quill and ink sitting just atop the cover. Tilting his head, the Warrior tapped the book, silently asking if he could take it. Aymeric pulled the quill and ink off for him.
The Warrior perched himself at the end of the couch inside the office, opening their letter book just to read it until Aymeric deemed himself finished for the day.
Unfortunately I am not proficient enough to communicate you through Eorzean sign. I hope this will suffice.
Did you buy an entire message book just so we could talk?
I have no answer for you.
You know you didn’t have to.
I understand any piece of parchment will suffice if I am to ask a favour of you, but you know I would soon run out the moment I decided I wished to have a conversation with you, and I do intend to have many.
:D
What is that?
Tilt the book. It’s a face. I learned it from Tataru.
Oh. :D I see.
The Warrior traced the ink upon the message book. They were running out of space in it.
—
There was a dip just at his side. He paid it no heed, at least not until two gentle hands pulled the message book from his lap. The Warrior looked up to see Aymeric closing it and leaving it on his desk. He was about to ask what was wrong, but then Aymeric raised his hands. In a hesitant motion, he began to sign. 'Practicing. For you.'
For you.
The Warrior stared.
'Still not very good. Learned from—' Aymeric paused. Then, slowly, 'A-L-P-H-I-N-A-U-D.' Then he smiled. 'I. Love. You.'
The Warrior of Light sat there, frozen. Even as the man he loved pulled back to watch his reaction, he sat there frozen. There was a swell of disbelief, there was joy and an unbelievable amount of fondness, he was not sure what to do with it. Every emotion he could possibly feel took hold of his heart and mind, and it burned. His eyes burned.
Somehow, Aymeric’s gaze had become softer. He reached out to the Warrior, who grasped his hands in turn and kissed them.
He was unsure of how loud he might have been, but he spoke as he signed back, I love you.
And then he cried, like a child, because he could never quite believe just how lucky he had gotten. Because it was so overwhelming just how much his friends— his family — loved him. How much Aymeric loved him. It did not last long, he eventually tired himself out, so their evening ended up turning into an impromptu cuddle session, which was... quite frankly all that he wanted in that moment.