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Rosaline had been completely lost in thought as she paced around her room for what felt like the hundredth time that evening, unable to recall how long ago the sun had set. She brought herself to a halt and stared down at her feet, half expecting to find a path ground down into her floor from how many times she’d lapped around her quarters.
“Rosaline, you have to tell him how you feel, or it will eventually eat you alive.”
Rosaline had been at this for hours, the stress chipping away at her while P’yandih’s words repeated in her head on a loop the entire time. Her apprentice was right, and after having reached her limit on watching Rose agonize over this repeatedly, P’yandih had put the pressure on her to confess her feelings to Martyn. Even in her short time with the guild, the pink-haired Miqo’te had easily been able to figure out how Rosaline felt about the mage - she’d proven to be a surprisingly perceptive girl and just as blunt to boot, having not minced her words with Rosaline on the topic. So she’d given Rose an ultimatum: if P’yandih passed her test to become a properly certified mage for performing in the Masked Carnivale, then Rosaline would have to tell Martyn how she feels. And given that her training had been coming along quite smoothly, Rosaline knew she’d have to uphold her side of the agreement.
Which is why she quite literally had been going around in circles all evening, figuring out the most straightforward and least awkward way to tell a guy who’s essentially been your boss for the past year that you can’t stop thinking about him and how nice it would be if he could maybe put his hands all over you. Perhaps she shouldn’t tell him that last part, but gods did she think about it a lot. A whole lot.
Focus Rosaline.
Rosaline knew that it was foolish to think that she could hide her feelings forever, inevitably something would cause the truth to surface one way or the other. But she’d done well enough holding it in so far and, had it not been for P’yandih’s pushyness, she’d have kept on doing just that - keeping it wrapped up in her heart indefinitely. It’s not as though she’s never considered telling Martyn, but she could already guess how it would play out: she’d tell him how she feels, he’d respond with some smug response about how no one could resist the charms of Azuro the Third, and finally let her down by saying that he didn’t feel the same way, that she was still his apprentice after all, and that it’d be better if they just stuck to the spells. In her head she’d already been rejected dozens of times before, she wasn’t looking forward to having to go through with it for real.
She really didn’t think her heart could handle it.
P’yandih, as predicted, passed her test with flying colors, giving that lech Ultros an especially good beating - for which Rosaline was secretly quite pleased with, even if she was supposed to discourage such biased feelings as her teacher.
“I passed the test Rosaline, you know what that means!” she announced in a sing-song voice, her eyebrows waggling curiously in Rosaline’s direction.
Holding her head in her hand, she let out a breath that was half a groan, half a sigh, and all annoyance. “Uggghhhh yes I’m well aware, and it’s going to happen. Today. I swear it.” She added the last bit hastily under P’yandih’s doubtful glare.
Rosaline truly meant it though. For all the time she spent running over the situation in her head, in the end she’d concluded that the best way to deal with this situation would be the simplest one - rip the bandage off, do it fast, get it over with. The more time she spent letting her mind run rampant with every possible disastrous outcome was torture. It wasn’t worth it. Telling Martyn and getting rejected couldn’t possibly be any worse than how it had gone in her head, right? Even after coming to this decision, she still managed to lose plenty of sleep over it nonetheless, barely getting enough to function for the day as she continued to stress out about bearing her feelings to Martyn - she was beyond ready to get all of this over with so she could go home, curl up and cry, and then pass out on her bed. The realms could hold it together for at least one evening to allow her the time to mourn the loss of yet another chance at romance, even if she was naive for thinking that there were time for such frivolities when you were Eorzea’s hero in the first place.
On the bright side, it seemed like P’yandih’s meddling in her love affairs had provided a suitable distraction from the girl’s own woes over missing Nutiba. Or maybe it was because of his disappearance that the girl had decided to make Rosaline’s love life her own personal mission. Rosaline wasn’t so heartless that she couldn’t put aside her resentment about being coerced into this situation - she could clearly see the sadness present in P’yandih’s eyes any time she spoke of the missing Lalafell.
As the pair returned to the guild bringing the good news of P’yandih’s success, so too had Martyn and Royse returned from wrapping up their performance for the Kugane elites they were hoping to win over, with the possibility of gaining them as the newest patrons of the Masked Carnivale. As Royse congratulated P’yandih on her success, immediately beginning to discuss the terms of her Masked Carnivale gig, Rosaline recognized this as her opening to confront Martyn. She took a deep breath to ready herself for the moment she’d been dreading most, and pulled him aside.
“Martyn, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about.” she asked, keeping her voice low so as to not attract the attention of the others.
“Sure thing! Always happy to lend an ear, what’s on your mind?” he responded cheerfully yet somewhat distractedly, his spirits high given the prospect of a more lucrative future for the guild and, as she’s sure he was hoping for, himself as well - she could practically see the glint of gil reflecting in his eyes.
“It’s kind of a more… private matter, if you have some time to spare for me?” She could feel the morphos beginning to flap up a storm in her stomach, right on cue as always.
Martyn’s attention was now fully on Rosaline, his honey-gold eyes focused completely on her and her alone. “Of course I have time for you, Rosey. I’m sure we can dip away for a moment to-”
But just as Martyn gestured for her to follow along, their guests from the Far East returned, drawing him away from Rosaline. Rosaline silently cursed to herself, forgetting that he and Royse still had work to do. She followed Martyn back to the group, curious to hear what they had to say about the Carnivale.
It hadn’t been good.
“Second-rate”.
“A poor recreation”.
Rosaline could see the incensed look upon Royse’s face, her anger understandable given this imitation would certainly impact the Celestium’s bottom-line. Martyn was in a tizzy about it as well, as he seemed to take this as a personal insult. His concern over these “blue wizards”, as their guests had called them, made Martyn quite curious as to who was behind it all. Thus, he had no qualms when Royse had suggested he head to Kugane to get to the bottom of things. On the very next ship setting out.
Wait, hold on, Martyn’s leaving right now? This wasn’t going according to her plan at all. She really had to get this over with, now!
Martyn wasted no time preparing for his departure, and once he’d told Rose and P’yandih that they were in charge, he took off like a bolt of levin.
She needed to go after him.
Jogging fast to stay on his heels, Rosaline sped along to where Martyn had run off to, doing her best to catch up to him.
“Martyn, wait!” she called out.
He stopped instantly in his tracks at the sound of her voice, turning around to face her, a surprised look upon his face.
Only slightly out of breath from the sudden sprint, Rosaline confronted him. “Martyn, you said we could talk, remember? This is-”
“Sod it all, we were in the middle of somethin’, weren’t we? I know Royse is likely to dock my pay if I don’t get on that next boat fast.” He shook his head in concern, clearly restless to get going. “Once we figure out what’s happening with this Fukumen Fighting Festival, I’m certain we’ll have time. It ain’t anythin’ important, is it?”
She tucked her hands behind her, clenching her fists so hard, digging her nails into her palm to distract herself from how upset she was becoming, and swallowed the word vomit that was threatening to escape.
“...no, no it can wait,” she lied.
“I’m really sorry about this, poor timin’ really,” he responded, turning back to head off once more. “I promise once I get back, I’m all yours.”
Watching as he turned a corner and disappeared from view, she felt an ache in her chest at his words.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Martyn Goodfellow…”
Martyn was a coward and he knew it. A coward and a liar, but it wasn’t exactly like these were any new qualities for him, now were they?
P’yandih had more or less threatened him upon pain of death that he confess his feelings to Rosaline, forcing him into a promise to do so once her test had concluded. Pushy little thing that she was, he’d agreed, against his better judgment. How she had even gotten wind of his feelings for Rose was beyond him, as he’d not told a single person about it. Though when faced with either staring down the jaws of another monstrous fiend ready to make him his next meal, or getting rejected after telling the woman who’d been his apprentice for the past year that she consumed his every waking thought - and every sleeping thought, for that matter - and that he would happy let her consume him body and soul… he’d rather take his chances with the fiend.
He couldn’t imagine a scenario where Rose would possibly return his feelings. Just look at her! Talented, funny, charming, and a whiz when it came to blue magic - for as rough of a start as she had, she’d managed to turn things around in no time, closing the gap in skill level between the two of them in the blink of an eye. It wasn’t just impressive, but that capability and perseverance also made her incredibly attractive, on top of the fact that she was, actually, stunningly beautiful to boot. No, there was no way a lady like her would ever give a guy like him a passing thought. They’d started off on the wrong foot from day one, and despite the fact that she eventually grew to tolerate him, even so much as to cooperate with him when things had gotten tough, there was no way her opinion of him was near where he knew it’d need to be in order for him to be a real contender for her heart.
But he’d made a promise. And he would have stuck with it too. Probably. Maybe.
No, he knew the truth. He would have reneged on his word to P’yandih one way or the other. Once Royse had ordered him to investigate overseas, he saw that as his opportunity to put as much space between him and Rosaline as possible, not even bothering to debate the shrewd business woman like he usually would. He could pretend like he didn’t have any other choice, that he couldn’t have still found time for Rosaline, that time was of the essence.
But he was a coward. And so he fled as fast as he could away from her, leaving her to deal with whatever it was she was trying to talk to him about on her own. He’d already felt his nerves fraying when she asked to talk with him as it was, knowing that any alone time with her would have meant having an inexcusable opportunity to tell her how he felt. He was pathetic.
Maybe in the time it would take him to complete this journey, he could learn to move on from her. To stop thinking about the way her smile lit up her eyes, so bright it could illuminate the entire night sky. The way her laugh sounded like a song every time it graced his ears. The way her presence warmed even the coldest parts of his heart. How he wanted that warmth for himself.
As his boat left port on that grey afternoon, the piers of Limsa Lominsa quickly fading from his view, he hoped he’d made the right choice.
Surely he could get over her and mend his lonely heart. With enough time, enough space, enough distance. He could leave his troubles behind and forget her.