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Y’shtola will proudly say she noticed it first.
Cimorene is a quiet girl, and quieter still following Y’shtola’s return from the lifestream. What she learns about the events that transpired during her time… away, she learns from Alphinaud and Tataru. She hears about the mission of peace that went awry, and all the parties involved. All strangers to her, but Alphinaud’s experiences with the Crystal Braves have clearly hardened him into a better judge of character; if he vouches for Ser Estinien, she sees no reason to mistrust him.
That said, she had not expected the dragoon that Alphinaud had spared no acclaim to be so adverse to it.
“Spare us the hyperbole,” he says, his gruff voice nearly a growl. “‘Tis not for praise that we fight.”
He seems determined to misunderstand her comment’s intent, so Y’shtola gives up trying. Still, something itches at the back of her mind about the way he spoke, the continued use of the plural, the unquestioned fact that he and the Warrior of Light are not only a duo, but of one mind where this argument was concerned…
When he strides away, Cimorene does little more sigh - a sound more fond than exhausted - and goes to follow after him rather than speak with Urianger. It corroborates the dragoon’s sentiment - not necessarily that she agrees with him regarding their accomplishments, but that she sees herself as his partner. It is passing strange; Y’shtola has not been away that long but it would seem in that time Cimorene had formed a closer bond with this man than she had to the Scions in the moons she had spent amongst them.
There are - of course - larger things to worry about, so Y’shtola puts it away to unpack at another time.
Tataru claims second place in a similar vein. She wasn’t on the mission in Dravania and throughout their time in Ishgard had not spoken more than perhaps a handful of sentences to the dragoon, and him even less to her - but she prides herself on being able to read people even when she has little to go off of, so she builds a picture just the same.
He is an… intense man, for lack of a better word, but their brief exchanges had given her cause to believe he, at least, respected both her companions. For her part, Cimorene is quieter than Alphinaud in first their push to save Estinien from Nidhogg and then to recount their times together, but it is equally clear that she holds him in high regard.
That’s all she can put her finger on for a while, though part of her - that is a stickler for accuracy - feels like it isn’t quite the full picture but she can hardly come up with anything more without evidence.
Until she meets him again.
The dragoon does everything in his power to evade her and Krile, but he cannot keep it up forever and, soon enough, she and her fellow lalafell have him cornered.
Estinien attempts yet again to argue his way out of service (and paid service, too, which he seems to sorely need; really, Tataru doesn’t understand why he’s so reticent) until Krile’s Echo supposedly reveals something truly mortifying that she could share with the world. Should he refuse his service.
Tataru watches his face - which had been hidden by a helm last they’d met - go a few shades darker, his lips thinning further into an uncomfortable and embarrassed line while his eyes are interested in looking anywhere but at them. And she frowns, remembering her unfinished picture from back in Ishgard.
After he leaves - now in their employ - and Krile admits she had, in fact, seen nothing, Tataru muses, “I wonder what he thought you saw…”
Krile shrugs. “Who’s to say, really. Even you’ve had more interactions with him than I.”
Tataru isn’t really listening, still puzzling over her puzzle until a thought suddenly clicks the last piece into place. She claps her hands together excitedly. “What if he thinks you saw his feelings for Cimorene?”
Krile is, understandably, thrown off guard by this.
“... He has feelings for Cimorene?”
This isn’t to say Krile hadn’t noticed anything until this moment. She had been there when Cimorene and Alphinaud had been trying to free Ser Estinien from Nidhogg’s influence. While Cimorene was far quieter than that… enthusiastic boy, it was clear the mission meant a great deal to her as well.
She does recall now that once, when Alphinaud had been speaking at length about their time with the moogles of Dravania, Krile watched the au ri woman smile softly to herself and say, “Estinien did hate the moogles…” with the utmost fondness. Which Krile had to admit had been… interesting.
But all in all this spoke more to her feelings for this rather gruff and antisocial man. She doesn’t think him the type to do something so sentimental as have an infatuation but… that does make the idea especially amusing. And would certainly explain how thoroughly flustered he had been by her “vision.”
“I mean, I don’t know-know, of course, but I wouldn’t be surprised,” Tataru is saying reasonably. “I mean, how could someone not love Cimorene?”
Krile thinks that’s saying more than Tataru perhaps intended, but she’ll keep that to herself. As it stands, she isn’t entirely convinced yet but she pockets it as something to be considered for later.
Later doesn’t arrive until Cimorene herself is returned from the First, ferrying information back and forth between world-spanning parties. Krile can tell that Tataru is itching to tell her just who they had recruited to aid them in her and her companions’ absence, but in the end she doesn’t get the chance.
From her vantage point she notices the elezen enter the Rising Stones before Cimorene or Tataru. Only she can see the way he stops dead in his tracks when he sees the additional person in the room.
He’s an incredibly expressive man, she’s noted. Even if it’s pulling teeth to get more than two words from him, she can always tell how he feels (from what she’s gathered, he spent most of his recent years in public wearing a rather concealing helm; she doesn’t think he even knows that his thoughts are writ plainly on his face for all to read). His eyes slightly wide, his mouth so slightly agape… Cimorene’s mere presence has completely stunned him.
It lasts only a second, but his attempted recovery - a short, clipped, “Oh. You’re back.” - does not land as nonchalant as he clearly hoped. Krile finds she does not need her echo at all to read how strongly he feels for the Warrior of Light.
Tataru had been right, indeed…
Alisaie wishes she hadn’t noticed, honestly.
It wasn’t that Cimorene had never mentioned Estinien before, it just wasn’t… often, and certainly not at length. Most of what she knew about him she knew from Alphinaud, frankly, never shutting up about the man. What little Cimorene had said served to quietly confirm her brother’s rave reviews; Estinien was strong, Estinien was kind, Estinien was brave-
Estinien is an idiot.
“Ugh, I don’t know who he thinks he is but he is nothing like Alphinaud painted him to be.” She looks up at Cimorene, hoping for, if not agreement at least some sympathy.
Cimorene is following where Estinien and Alphinaud have left for the airship and does not appear to have heard a word Alisaie has said. The look in her, usually sharp, eyes is absent, almost dazed, like she is seeing something else. She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly in nothing short of a sigh. Alisaie has never seen Cimorene sigh before. She sounds like Alphinaud-
Oh, Alisaie thinks as it hits her. You have got to be kidding me.
There’s no way for G’raha to put this that doesn’t make him sound… well, creepy.
He can in no way claim that he noticed before any of his fellow Scions but he can say he’s one of the earliest to consider it.
When all you have is the memoirs of one person to tell you about another person - the person you once met but hardly knew - you acknowledge that perhaps not all of the facts are being presented. G’raha’s knowledge of the final events of the Dragonsong War are from the perspective of a nobleman far removed from all of them. Edmont de Fortemps speaks at length about the Warrior of Light’s love for his late son and how the knight had given his life to save her.
The text does not speak much at all about the dragoon with whom she first slain Nidhogg, and who she later freed from the Dread Wyrm’s clutches.
So, of course, this is what G’raha is most fascinated by. How had their friendship grown - from near strangers to steadfast allies? What had gone through her mind when he had transformed into the very creature they had sought to destroy? What had he felt when she refused to slay him - saving his life instead?
He does not doubt the strength of the relationship that has been presented on the page, but he nevertheless catches himself wondering about the nature of the one that went unseen.
The events on the First transpire, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t nurse a small infatuation with the hero he had waited centuries for - every bit as strong and selfless as he had imagined her to be - but he expects nothing from it. Not when he conceals so much from her. As he helps set things right, as he resumes a life on the Source amongst her and her Scions, all he works to earn is her trust and friendship.
Then Estinien is there, the mysterious figure from his stories… and he’s blunt, harsh-speaking and not at all what G’raha had expected. He is undoubtedly fearless though - that or incredibly foolish, he thinks, watching the dragoon scold another of the First Brood without flinching. It does the job, at least, and everyone prepares for the next steps. G’raha turns to Cimorene-
-and finds her gazing upon Estinien like he hung the stars.
And G’raha thinks that perhaps he had been right about the nature of that relationship after all.
Thancred feels off his game; he is usually good at catching this sort of thing. As it stands, his life being as… complicated as it has been of late, he’s just pleased that he isn’t last.
They’re in Thavnair, having recovered from aether sickness (and he hardly feels it’s fair that he can no longer manipulate aether but it can still manipulate him), and given their newest Scion the appropriate amount of ribbing for spending habits that would put their young lordling to shame. They finish exploring the small, trading outposts and begin the trek to the Great Work and Thancred watches Cimorene fall into step beside Estinien like gravity has pulled her there.
Years of practice means he doesn’t have to strain to hear their conversation. Not that there is much to it, with their new recruit matching the Warrior of Light for engimatic silence.
Still, partway through their walk Cimorene glances up at her fellow, much taller, dragoon.
“It suits you, by the way,” she murmurs. Then, to answer a questioning noise, adds, “Your hair, like this.”
Estinien shrugs. “As I said, ‘tis a practical style.”
“I know,” Cimorene says, a smile audible in her dulcet voice. “But I meant that it looks good on you. To me, anyway.”
There’s a pause; Thancred cannot see the elezen’s blush but he can imagine it clearly.
“Ah,” he says at last. “I’m- that’s- good.”
He smirks. Well, that’s something, now isn’t it?
“Thancred, art thou listening?” Urianger, paired with him as Cimorene is with Estinien, had been explaining more of the history of alchemy both in Thavnair and the surrounding area. It isn’t that the topic wasn’t interesting, but sometimes the man’s lectures could turn into background noise, especially if something else grabbed his attention.
“Forgive me, I missed that last bit,” he says, then pauses, considering if he should expand on just what distracted him. If he has only just caught the little budding romance, surely Urianger with his more… academic focusing has noticed nothing of the sort.
He could let his friend figure it out on his own, but honestly, that’s far less fun and - with the world being what it currently is - he has to find joy where he can, after all.
“So, do you think they’re already sleeping together or is this still the pining phase?”
Urianger follows his companion’s nod toward Ser Estinien and Cimorene, and immediately notes tension present between them. They walk closely beside each other but with just too much distance and when one steps a little closer the other moves away like they are being both drawn together and repelled away.
Would he have seen it without Thancred’s words? Perhaps not, but nonetheless he is not particularly surprised by the revelation.
But he also knows exactly the kind of response his good friend had intended, phrasing his observation in such a manner.
So Urianger does nothing but hum thoughtfully as though this is a philosophical conundrum. “I personally believe the latter but if thou has evidence to suggest otherwise I would hear it.”
The words have his intended effect; Thancred blinks, thoroughly startled by not startling him. Urianger quickly swallows a smile before it ruins the performance.
“Thou seems confused,” he adds innocently. “Didst thou believe me blind to our compatriots’ affections?”
Thancred stumbles over a response. It’s terribly amusing. “I- you- you… never cease to amaze me,” he finally says, recovering enough for a wry smile. Shaking his head, he adds, “Now, what were you saying?”
Quite pleased with himself, Urianger returns to the topic at hand.
Alphinaud deeply regrets asking this question.
For his part, he had assumed nothing but friendship between his two dear friends - until, ahead of her giving chase to Zenos on the moon, Cimorene had punctuated her goodbyes by pulling Estinien down so she could kiss him quickly.
She had left afterward and - while a little red in the face - Estinien had made no comment about the interaction. Neither, the dumbstruck Alphinaud had distantly noted, did any of their companions.
So he knew that they knew but he had not been prepared for just how long.
“I can’t believe this,” he mutters into his cup of tea. They’re back at the Rising Stones, recovering from a rather epochal journey and he’d finally thought it was a good time to ask about it.
“Not our fault we have eyes, brother,” Alisaie says cheerfully.
“I truly thought you knew,” Krile adds. “After all, you know them better than any of us.”
He flushes darker. “Well, there’s no need to rub it in,” he grumbles.
“You asked,” Thancred points out dryly from one table over.
“Asked what?” Cimorene’s voice startles all of them. She’s just joined them, still dressed for sleep in a soft white gown and pale blue robe. There is a small but nonetheless visible bruise on her collarbone, where scales met skin, and everyone makes a show of not noticing it.
“Nothing!” Alphinaud says quickly, before anyone can speak and humiliate him further.
Cimorene pauses a moment but finally shrugs and settles down with her own breakfast. Everyone graciously moves the conversation to other topics, and Alphinaud can only be grateful that she didn’t hear much.
And doubly grateful that Estinien had heard nothing at all.