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Koa’sae stares at the stars in the Gyr Abanian sky from the safety of a bench in the Palace Gardens. He’d finally calmed down hours after fighting Zenos and Shinryu -- Zenryu, he considers quickly before giggling softly -- so he went out to get some air where no one else would bother him. He loves the Scions, he loves his friends, but he does not feel like celebrating. Zenos had said many things to him, and as much as he tries to brush them off, they stick into his back like daggers. He tries not to dwell on it, but back at the celebrations, every other word coming out of his loved ones’ mouths is Zenos , reigniting the pain and leaving it to fester.
So, he took his leave to come sit outside and look at the stars. They’re easy to see against the black backdrop of the sky, and he sighs contentedly as he scans the constellations. He doesn’t know any of them by name, nor does he know what the clusters are supposed to look like, other than bright blobs in the sky, but he somehow finds it relaxing. It’s calming until he hears the main doors slam, echoing over the valley. He turns to face the sound, but in the dim lighting of the moon can’t make out who it is. They’re tall, so he is able to rule out most of the Scions, but other than that, he can’t make any distinctions, squinting through the darkness.
Boots crack loose gravel and debris from the earlier fight, getting louder as their owner slowly approaches. Koa’sae hears something fall onto the ground, and a soft tap of metal against the brick before he deigns to move towards the main path. He slides off of the bench, drawing the small knife he’d been convinced to keep on his person as he hears the other person’s breath hitch. The silhouette is more visible now, tall, long hair, and an even taller lance, making him much easier to identify.
“Oh,” Estinien starts, “you’re here.” Now that Koa’sae is in full view of his face, he can make out his usual vaguely pissed off expression, but there is a hint of exhaustion he’s not used to seeing. “Why?” the dragoon follows up.
Koa’sae keeps his eyes on his knife as he puts it away. “Needed a minute away from the celebrations.” He pointedly keeps his eyes from meeting the other man’s, not possessing the energy to deal with the feeling of judgement that he usually gets when they meet. “Why are you?”
“You’ve had a moment, have you not?” Estinien asks huffily. “Head back in.”
The Miqo’te finally meets his eyes at this indignation, only to find that he looks serious, as usual. “Why are you even out here?” he demands, stepping closer to size him up a bit more, only to be stopped by the body of the taller man’s lance held out horizontally to him, blocking his path forward. “What?”
The lance is removed once Estinien seems convinced that Koa won’t move any closer, and he gestures to the ground. “Some loose ends needed tying off.”
Koa’sae looks down to see two circular objects lying side by side on the pavement. Even in the dark of night, what they are is unmistakable-- the eyes of Nidhogg -- which had wreaked endless amounts of havoc onto Eorzea. He’s a bit surprised to see them here, thinking that they would have been destroyed during Zenos’s summoning of Shinryu. They don’t seem as red or angry as they had in the past, and for that, he is thankful. Moving before he thinks, he reaches down to pick one up, earning a groan of protest from Estinien.
“What in the hells do you think you’re doing?” the dragoon asks, reaching out an arm to grab at the eye. Anticipating this, Koa’sae swiftly twirls his back to face away from the other man and block with his body, though he worries that it will be followed by the sharp end of his spear. “Must you make everything so...” he pauses for a couple seconds, looking for the correct words to express his frustration, “difficult?”
The Miqo’te laughs softly, a genuine thing escaping him after these months of torment and fighting. “What is your plan for them?” he asks, peering over his shoulder to see Estinien glaring at him. “They should hardly be kept on your person.” He thinks about the past, and the dragoon’s corruption -- it is not something he wants to relive, and he garners that the other man would prefer to avoid that as well.
“Had you not interrupted me,” he scathes, “I was to destroy them. I found them earlier, but had to flee when your little parade flocked to the court. Now you stall me, yet again.”
The bite in his words still gives Koa’sae a bit of a scare, but he doesn’t let it show as he continues to admire the eye in the moonlight. “It looks so much more docile now, huh?” He turns back around to Estinien, showing him the monster’s eye, who rolls his eyes as he reaches for it again. He’s obviously not trying very hard, as Koa is able to dodge his attempts, something near impossible when the dragoon is on his game. “What were you going to do with them?”
“They’re mostly aether-dry. A simple puncture should rid us of them permanently,” Estinien says, and lifts his lance. The Miqo’te backs up as the sharp end of the lance is driven into the shell of what used to be Nidhogg’s left eye. The organ immediately deflates, leaving only a hard looking skin, which Estinien plucks up and places in his pocket. “Give me the other one.”
Koa’sae clutches it closer to his chest. “We need to be absolutely sure that no one will ever be able to revive them.”
“They’re drained husks, the elezen says. “The aether passing through them is likely only environmental. They’re dead, brute.” He furthers his point by holding up the husk of the eye he had stabbed.
“We have to be sure,” the shorter man says softly. He ponders silently for a moment, before getting a terrible glint in his eyes. “If someone were to, you know, eat them, they would never be found again.”
Estinien lets out a laugh, the first one from him Koa’sae has ever heard that isn’t sadistic. He’s silent for a moment as he eyes the Miqo’te. “Halone, you’re serious. Do not.”
“Why not? If it’s as dead as you say, it won’t cause any issues. Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing I’ve eaten,” Koa’sae reminds himself of the adventurous eating he engaged in in his youth, “and if it serves to rid the world of this rage, I’d be a fool not to.”
“No.”
“We’ve made this mistake before,” Koa’sae says, and opens his mouth. Within an instant, a fist that he did not see coming connects to his face and his back hits the ground. He braces for impact on his head, but feels nothing, realizing that Estinien somehow managed to punch him, grab the eye, and keep his head from hitting the brick all within a few seconds.
When the Miqo’te meets the elezen’s eyes, Estinien lets his head drop softly onto the brick below as he gets back up, turning his back to Koa’sae to puncture the second eye and be rid of it for good.
“You know,” the shorter man starts, “ow.” He pushes himself up off the ground as the dragoon turns back to face him. He brushes off his clothes and glares at the man trying to stifle his laughter. “You’re such a dick.”
Estinien doesn’t respond, only pats Koa’sae’s unaffected cheek twice before turning around and walking away, waving as he nears the side of the pavilion and jumps off.
The bruise will need to be explained later, but all he could do now is laugh.