Work Text:
As always, Jannie swallowed her exasperated sigh as U’rahn let out a whine each time she plucked a needle from his tail while G’raha sat beside him whimpering away. She’d warned them well of messing around in Qarn, but nevertheless, the well-intentioned Nuhn wanted to keep their promise of taking their lovelorn friend on a few adventurers. As always, she’d been ignored, then put upon by the consequences.
This was all in her training though. As an orphan Ishgard, she always assumed her destiny would result in her living comfortably as a Governess for a high house, the remains of her family’s estate there for a proper education; however, she left it behind, disillusioned by her home and Master turned lover. And when in her mother’s homeland of Gridania, hearing Hydaelyn’s call, she took to a life of adventure, blissfully unaware she’d return to what she knew.
And so here she was, many adventures later, patching up two Miqo’te, grown men set upon acting like little boys needing care of. Then there was Y’shtola and Urianger, they’d need to be checked upon after to ensure studying hadn’t eclipsed a proper dinner. Afterward, the Elzen would see to the twins’ rooms to check if anything was needed for the wash and while she was taking care of that she’d draw a bath for both Estinien and their armor. At least there was conversation to be had there, reminiscing of home while scrubbing away. Then there was some light shopping to be done, resupplying the Scion’s stock of munition and components, though at the very least she could count on Thancred to carry her bags, even if afterward she’d need to sit with him and infuse his bullets for a time.
Evening would soon be upon Jannie at last, and she’d sit down with Tataru, Krile, and Violet for some light coffee, the last’s, more likely than not, half-filled with a creamy whiskey. So then it’d be upon her to get her fellow Warrior of Light, into bed at the end of the night before returning to her room to write Lyse and Lucia. She’d then say her prayers to Halone, to Nophica, and to Hydaelyn.
After she’d adorn her nightgown and write once more in her diary, telling Papalymo of her day, whatever wasn’t repetitive, and what news she’d heard from Lyse, maybe even copy a letter from her into the tome if one had been delivered. Then she’d touch his etching on the front page with a kiss from her palm. Satisfied, she’d crawl into bed, knowing well the next morning she’d wake up and be appraised of the Scion’s plans for the day, offering her caution once more, then prepare to join or clean up for her family.