Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

     Gridania's Music Festival was in full swing. Performances had been going almost nonstop since the day before, and the groves around the Amphitheatre were abuzz with activity.

     The trio had chosen to take their repast at a small table along the side of the theatre, that had full view of the stage. Bags and instruments stuffed under either table or chair, out of the way but still within reach.

     Azrael sighed as he stretched mightily, tail curling. "What a day. I don't think I've seen the glades this full aside from on holidays. Starlight festivities come to mind."

     "Aye," mused Zaidren, gaze wandering, swirling his wine glass. "Young Sanson and Guydelot faired well in putting this together."

     "They really did! And I'm glad so many other musicians decided to join — ope, the next band is starting." Kotori swiveled around in her seat to better see the stage.

     An Auri troupe, it looked like. Four members, with the lead man — a Xaela — holding a lyre. All of their costumes were elaborate, but his was especially so: Light gray, bishop-sleeved shirt, open at the collar, sporting elaborate embroidery and sequins; tucked into dark red slim trousers with heeled boots. Crystals and beads dangled gracefully from golden chains adorning his horns — sweeping back from the crown of his head like arches — with the surrounding lamp light setting them alight like tiny stars around his head. Similar beaded chains hung at his hips, playing hide-and-seek with the swathe of fabrics around his waist.

     He was captivating, and the combination of the gleam in his violet eyes and slight curve of his lips said he knew it. With but a raised hand he stilled the smattering of applause, and he and the troupe began their number. Something light yet not, soaring yet grounded; deep drumbeat encouraging stomping along, harmony of vocal yips and lyre inviting shy trills to answer.

     It lasted only a handful of minutes, the longest minutes of her life. Most of the audience stood to applaud loudly as they took their bows, and then the troupe dispersed back into the crowd, to make way for the next act.

     "Tori, a firefly is going to wander into your mouth if you don't close it."

     Azrael's voice brought her smashing back to reality. Her mouth snapped shut. "My mouth wasn't open."

     "It was. Quite agape. Stunned by the music, maybe — or was it their lead bard you were staring at?"

     "I don't know what you mean," she sniffed as she turned her nose up.

     "Oh I think you do," Az grinned wryly. He reached over to try to tip her hat, and laughed as she swatted at him.

     "Your eyes indeed hath been affixed to the stage since yon band began playing, lass." The older bard hid his smile behind his glass. "Though I will agree their performance was superb."

     "I'm studying their techniques," she humphed, sticking her tongue out at both of them, "it's not often we get to —"

     "— Get to see performances of our culture?" finished a new voice, making her jump.

     Zaidren chuckled at her start, and stood to shake the newcomer's hand. "They art all too rare, friend, and we were blessed by thine performance. For all my years in the profession I hath yet to see a lyre player as skilled as thee. Bravo, sir."

     "Your praise is music to my ears, pardon my pun," the Xaela grinned. "Thank you for your kind words, Ser…?"

     "Sanjounard. But thou may call me Zaidren. And may I introduce my pupils, Azrael and Kotori." The pair stood — the latter having to wiggle off of her seat in the process — and offered their hands to shake as well.

     "The pleasure is all mine," the bard responded, greeting them each in turn. "Please, call me Sankin."

     The bard had kneeled to properly grip her hand, and as he did she found herself staring into the violet pools of his eyes. Their edges crinkled by his soft smile.

     Time slowed down again.

     Air had stalled in her throat. She could feel heat gathering at the tips of her ears. Locked in placed like some- like some- twitterpated fool.

     And she could see that he saw it; that smile turning knowing, turning smug.

     And that irritated her.

     That flush of annoyance finally unlocked her limbs, and she firmly shook Sankin's hand, practically glaring at him. "Your performance was wonderful, ser. Quite masterful. But I have to ask you, however are you able to carry both your ego and your instrument at the same time?"

     Both men behind her sounded like they choked on something. Smile broadening to a grin, Sankin laughed as he stood. "Oh, they're quite lightweight, I assure you. And I thank you for thinking of my wellbeing." He tipped his hat in farewell. "I look forward to meeting you all again. Gods keep you." And off he went, sashaying his way to join his troupe at the end of the theatre.

     Kotori harrumphed, crossing her arms. "Insufferable. His talents will indeed take him far. And I hope he stays there."

     Az, who already returned to his seat, snorted under his breath, retort muffled by his cup. "Famous last words, lass."

Chapter Text

     "Tori!"

     From far away she heard a voice, a familiar voice, just beyond the gusting winds and the crackling of her Flare Star gathering at the edge of her staff. One more second!

     Off it went, scattering fireworks amongst the vilekin, screeches grating against her ears.

     "Watch out!"

     Another voice from the other side of the mob pack, and a shadow falling over her. She looked up.

     Flailing corpse of a crystal-kin, towering over her, crashing towards her.

     Quickest of glances to her left: golden-armored dragoon, thrusting a monster away, holding arms open to her.

     That was all the prompt she needed. Gripping her staff tight she focused aether down, winding tight winding tight winding tight releasing —

     — colliding with blunt breast plate, sending them both tumbling over. Years of training took over and he flipped them gracefully upright, plopping her on her feet with one hand and launching a javelin at a smaller vilekin that had chased her trajectory.

     A Blizzard spell followed after it, stopping it in its tracks. "Thanks Az-az!" she called, flashing him a grin.

     Bushy brown tail swished in acknowledgment. "Don't thank me yet!" he quipped back, bringing spear to bear once more. "We're not done!"

     As if on cue the last of the crystal beasts rounded on them on hind legs, mighty claws raised to strike.

     One swipe: he parried, effortlessly flipped back.

     Second swipe came straight for her. She saw but not soon enough. Broke into a run, dove forward —

     "No you don't!"

     The loudest CLANG sounded above her, rattled her bones, harmonized with the beast's frustrated roar. She scrabbled to her feet, watching Tigo knock it back with a roundhouse and Burst Strike to the face.

     Her own irritation flashed to the surface, summoning a guttural yowl and her Xenoglossy with it. "Back to hell with you!"

     The beast erupted in a loud violet bang, and finally collapsed dead.

     Finally they were alone amidst the raging gale. She heaved a sigh, and hugged onto Tigo's leg. "Thanks, Tito."

     "Of course, Tori," was his huffed chuckle. "Good blast on that last one."

     "Miserable creatures. Can't let a mage cast her spells in peace."

Chapter Text

     Night came to Eastern Thanalan, bathing the sky in gentle blues and indigos. Stars appearing alone or in pairs, one after the other. Crickets and frogs began their songs, providing rhythm for the fireflies to dance.

     Bright orange joined the stars: a small campfire by the water. Fish skewered over the fire crackled as they slowly turned. Fire softly hissing when fat dropped in.

     "Ah, smells delicious, lad." A Hrothgar with green fur settled by the fire with a satisfied sigh, taking off his glasses and pawing a large hand through his blonde hair. "About done, are they?"

     "Welcome back, Sokkolf." Tigo's lips curved into a warm smile, not taking his eyes off of the fish he rotated. "They are. And I'm glad you say so: it's your recipe and seasonings I've used."

     "Oho, is it now? Ha-hah, I'm flattered!" Placing his glasses on his nose, he looked over their rims at his employer-slash-pupil fondly and winked his green eye. "You must have really enjoyed it last time to remember it."

     "I did, and so did Anna! I was able to surprise her with dinner one night." He finally removed the skewer from the stand, and laid the fish out on a wooden platter. "There, dinner's served. Help yourself."

     Sokkolf chortled. "My delight has multiplied tenfold to know that even your lady love enjoyed my family recipe." He served himself a fillet and tucked in. "Let me know if you'd like other recipes to try," he continued between bites.

     "You know I'm always willing to learn. Though, uh, nothing too complicated yet, eh? I'm not that skilled yet," he chuckled.

     "Oh believe me lad, I still remember you owe me a new skillet after cremating the last one."

Chapter Text

     The atmosphere was dark. Dank. Suffocating.

     They were running through corridors. Past endless cells, endless cages and chains. Running, chasing, tracking down whatever vile prescence had taken over this facility. It had to be stopped, Erich said. Whatever it was, it had to be stopped. There was no choice.

     Boots pounding on stone floor. Sounds echoing, echoing, building to an overwhelming crescendo.

O lost lamb.

     Skidding to a halt. Shook his head hard, like trying to shake off a biting insect.

Say goodnight.

     Nononono not now—

It's time that we feed.

     Sharp pains: head and chest throbbing. Knees buckling, clutching his head in his hands. Notnownotnownotnow—

Mild and meek, down on your knees for hide and seek.

     Eyes wide, mouth gaping. Gasping for air. Leave me alone!

Your heart is racing, blood is running cold. Your fractured will is whispering —

     (fly away fly away go awAY)

With each bite does your sanity die —

     Vision swimming, nightmares appearing. Past voices yelling, screaming, begging, pleading.

Sucking the life out, letting the dark inside. Say a prayer, as the light leaves your eyes.

     On the floor now; curled up in a ball, gods knew how long. Skin on fire; feeling old wounds tracing their way across his body. Please stop.

Scream all you like; your gods can't hear you.

Flensed and flayed. How does it feel?

     Shadows, more shadows, marching into view behind his closed eyes. Hard voices, loud voices. One stops, lashes out. Cold vise grip on his throat. Can't move, can't breathe.

Lost in suffering, drowning in your tears. Your pound is paid, but those scars will not heal.

     Darkness closes in. Shadows now circling, like so many vultures around their prey.

Lost lamb, it's time that we feed. Here be lions…

     There is no light left.

     No fight left.

     "Tigo!"

     Familiar voices, from far away. Suddenly, there was light. Two of them, large and small, brilliance slicing through the dark. Taking up protective stance in front of where he lay. Spear and axe menacing those shadows that still circled around them.

     The dark hissed at the intrusion.

Foul child.

     "Back off, if you know what's good for you!" demanded the little light; radiance like sunshine.

     "He doesn't belong to you, nor will he ever," barked the other, jabbing his spear of light forward.

Bastard and beast, first to the feast. Come claim if you're able.

     It's…it's them. Warmth growing in his chest. Grip unlocked, coughing as air rushed to his lungs.

     "There he is! Tigo, brother, please, snap out of it," called the larger light over his shoulder.

     I'm…I'm trying.

There's no release.

     "C'mon Tito, it's okay." The smile evident in her voice. "You're okay. We've got you."

     The shadows were fleeing now, slowly. Still hissing, but widening their circle. Groans oozed out as he pushed himself to hands and knees. It is them. They are here.

[Be the lion.]

      "Thataway, brother, keep going." The larger light backed up closer to kneel beside him, to offer a solid arm. "We're right here."

No release.

     No. Shakily grabbing onto Az's arm, hoisting himself up to one knee; clawing the gunblade up from the floor from where it had fallen. Teeth bared in a silent snarl. You're done.

     It snarled back.

Scream all you like. Your gods can't hear you.

     Finally, finally, the shadows left. Dark and dank and damp remained, and so did he.

     The two holstered their weapons, and squished him into a hug between them. A heavy sigh shuddered through him as he leaned into them. Relishing their warmth.

     "…Thank you."

Chapter Text

     "Oh my goodness!!"

     Kotori's excited yell caught Az's attention from where he sat, leaned comfortably against a warm rock. He looked over at the surf's edge, ears perked. "Find something good?"

     "Look look look look!" Sand kicked up as she came skidding to a halt in front of him, holding out a large, blood-orange scallop shell. "It's half a shell of a Nodipecten nodosus!"

     "Common Eorzean, please," he chuckled.

     She huffed impatiently. "A lion's paw, Az, duh."

     "Oh yes, silly me for forgetting." He exaggerated rolling his eyes, but his fond tone betrayed him. One finger traced over the shell's subtle stripes. "A pretty find, nonetheless."

     "Not- not just pretty," she spluttered, it's amazing! Do you know how rare they are back home??"

     "I don't. Tell me?" He leaned back once more, stretching to relish the warm stone.

     With a sigh she plopped down next to him. Fished her journal from the pack between them, scribbling as she talked. "It's really only found in the waters around Vylbrand. And deeper waters, so you don't see them on shore hardly ever." 

     "Not even around Costa del Sol?” He leaned over slightly to peer at her sketching. "Wow, that's excellent, Tori."

     "Not even there." She pretended not to notice the compliment, despite the flush appearing on her cheeks. "But still they make good eating, and so you'll see them in the high-priced scallop dishes the Bismarck serves."

     She paused, holding up her notebook to inspect the page thus far. "I remember reading a published research paper, some time several years ago, about the state of the nodosus population. Apparently there're some parts of it that are in danger of eradication. Due to overfishing. Yeah, it's awful, I know," she added to his hrmm of disappointment, "but considering how much the world has been in peril up until now, there hasn't been a whole lot of focus on saving bivalves."

     "You do have a point."

     "I do, and maybe now someone could do something about it. I just don't know if that someone will be me." She sighed and continued scribbling more notes. "Maybe after we finish aiding Wuk Lamat with the contest."

     "Perhaps. Though I never had taken you for an aspiring savior of shellfish," he chuckled. "Are they as rare here, then, in the New World?"

     "I —" Her pencil stopped suddenly, her eyes wide. "I don't know. I'll have to find someone who — oh, I bet Erenville does!"

     She jumped to her feet, stuffing book and pencil back in to her pack. "C'mon, let's go find him!"

     "H-hey!" He had to quickly scruff said bag to stop her from scurrying off. "Tori, do you remember what 'priorities' means? We have to go meet Wuk Lamat at the stairs of…of--"

     "Vollok Shoonsa, Az; yes, I remember." Pouting indignantly she yanked her bag back and pivoted to keep going. "This will only take a second!"

     Another eye roll — this one less fond — but he picked up his things to follow. "We need to have a discussion about your understanding of what you think a 'second' means," he muttered.

Chapter Text

     A pleasant spring breeze whooshed through Ul'dahn street around her, playing with the edges of her skirts and her dreadlocks. Seraphina sighed and smiled, looked up at the wide open sky. It was a beautiful day, made more so by the…date, that was to come.

     "A good morn to you, my lady. I pray I have not made you wait overlong?"

     Speaking of. She looked up at the new arrival, shading her eyes with one hand. "Not at all, Ser Zaidren. The weather is pleasant enough, at any rate. I could have sat here for quite some time."

     "A most beauteous spring morn with which the gods hath blessed us, I agree." He offered his hand for her to stand, which she took. As she stood he bowed, gently brushing his lips to her knuckles. "One made more beauteous by thy presence, Lady Seraphina."

     "Flatterer," she chuckled, dipping in a slight curtsy. "But even embellished as it is, I will accept your compliment. Shall we?"

     "We shall." Taking her arm in his, they begin to make their way to the front door. "I have been looking forward to it."

     'It' was a tea house: white wooden building nestled amongst a stand of green trees and flowering bushes, an oasis in the desert neighborhood. Butterflies and birdsong stirred in their wake as they passed across the lawn. It would've fit perfectly in a story book, she thought.

     A soft bell chimed when they stepped through the door, and several voices called out greetings. "Welcome in! Please do make yourselves comfortable, and let us know when you're ready to order," said one server passing by.

     "Of course. Many thanks." He glanced at her. "So, which seats strike your fancy, my lady?"

     She looked around. "Over by the bay windows, perhaps? We can enjoy the view."

     "Then so we shall."

     They made their way over to a small table along the wall of windows, decorated with a white lacy tablecloth and a thin vase of pansies. He pulled out the closer chair, and motioned to her. "After you."

     Flashing him a soft smile for the favor, she gathered her skirts up and sat. "Such a charming place this is."

     Removing his wide-brimmed hat and resting it on the chair arm, he took to his own seat, settling in with a sigh. "Indeed it is." He looked around with a fond smile. "'Tis been on mine list of boutiques to visit here in Ul'dah for quite some time, after their advertisement flyers found their way to my mailbox."

     "Ahh, yes I see." Looking over at the small stand-up menu at the edge of their table, she couldn't help a small chuckle behind her hand. "So I suppose it wouldn't do to ask you what you would recommend."

     "Oh, I most certainly could try, if thou wish." He picked it up to peruse, thoughtfully stroking his mustache. "But first, tell me thy preferences; what flavors doth strike thy fancy."

     "Well." Delicately she ran her fingers across her hair to tuck some stray locks back in place; keeping the end of one to fiddle with as she thought. "Chamomile is a tried and true choice. Oolong… Lemon myrtle… And I do love a good fruit tea…"

     All flavors he recognized, yes; but tea was no longer at the forefront of his mind.

     The gentle sunshine filtering across her dark braids; the golden gleam of her eyes; the sheen of her dark skin. The Spinner herself must have selected this seat for them, he thought, gaze now tender; none other could have orchestrated it so well.

     "So, Ser Zaidren, what offerings are there to be had?"

     Her voice refocused his thoughts, and her gaze, once met, shifted to demure smirk. That he then answered with a sheepish chuckle, laying the menu flat on the table. "A thousand pardons for mine distraction, my lady. My thoughts were held captive elsewhere. But, from thy listings, I gather your preferences lean more herbaceous, and sweet. Which is more than enough for me to make a choice."

     Herbaceous and sweet. And what better description of your presence, ser. Her smirk softened. "And what would you choose?"

     A quick glance down at the menu. "There's one here, aptly named 'Butterfly Garden': oolong, chamomile, pea flower, with hints of strawberry. 'A bright, floral flavored tea, served with an orange slice for a delightful visual experience'."

     "That sounds wonderful," she agreed, smile widening. "And quite a charming choice."

     "A charming choice for a charming lady, says I." He returned the menu to its former place, and raised his hand to catch a server's attention. "And apt enough, I believe: Thy love of thy garden has not escaped me."

     She supposed it wouldn't have, considering how often he found her there. "Despite this desert clime, there are plants aplenty that can yet thrive, if one has the care and patience. I have not many dedicated for tea, alas."

     A quick few words with the server to place their order, before returning his attention to her. "And well do I see the results of your care. Perhaps after we have enjoyed our repast, we can find a greenhouse, to procure some more brewable herbs for thee."

     "Perhaps," she smiled, golden eyes crinkling. The small, walled plot was filled to bursting as it was; but that is nothing that he needs to know. She would make room.

     And besides: What better excuse to prolong keeping his company?