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If one were to ask Estinien if he considered himself a jealous man, he would most likely shrug and deny it. After all, what reason would he have to feel that way? At this point in his life, he was content. He traveled the star, assisted his companions when needed, and wanted for little.
One night, however, in the Warrior of Light’s temporary lodgings in Radz-at-Han, he was forced to face an uncomfortable truth. That mayhap, on certain occasions, he wrestled with a near-draconic impulse to take hold of her and never let her go. To claim her as his, and none other’s.
It was early in the evening when he arrived at Lucca’s window and peered inside, spotting her standing near a cluttered countertop. He knocked on the glass in his usual rhythm, which promptly drew her attention away from a large messenger bag. A wide grin split across her face, sending a flutter through his chest, before she dropped the bag, scurried over, and threw open the window to greet him.
“Estinien! How lovely it is to see you.” Lucca reached up to his face and guided it downward to pepper a series of small kisses across his cheeks. The action was not unexpected, but caused his face to warm nonetheless. Such affections were still something he was getting accustomed to receiving. She pulled back and smiled at him. “I did not expect you until tomorrow.”
As she then turned her attention back to her bag, he entered and dropped from the windowsill with a soft thud.
“Aye. The task from the Radiant Host was simpler than expected, so I came back early. Thought I would drop by,” he paused as he watched her bustle to and fro, gathering her belongings in a manner that suggested she was headed somewhere. “But it appears you already have plans.”
“Oh, just a little party in the Shroud! An old friend of mine invited me,” she said casually as she plucked a worn, dark blue hat off the top of a precarious pile of chaos she had contained to a nearby chair.
“I see.” An odd pang of disappointment echoed through him, causing his brow to furrow. Perhaps he ought to have known she would have a prior commitment for the evening. She stuffed the hat into her bag and tossed him an apologetic smile.
“I am so sorry, but I will be back later tonight! I promised I would be there, and the host will be terribly disappointed if I do not show.”
He merely hummed in acknowledgment as his lips thinned into a straight line. She slung the bag over one shoulder and turned to face him.
“Do feel free to stay here and help yourself to anything that is lying around, though! In fact, I made a rolanberry tart this morning. I think you will like it,” she offered in a light tone.
When later reflecting upon this moment, Estinien would be unsure as to what caused his next words to tumble out of his mouth. Perhaps it was that he had missed her company, and did not want her to leave him so soon after he had arrived. Or perhaps he was simply curious as to who this… friend of hers was.
“I want to go with you.”
Lucca looked up from fastening a silk scarf around her neck. “Hm?”
“I want to go to this party with you,” he repeated with a nod. There was a prolonged moment of silence as he watched her owlish expression contort, clearly calculating her next response.
“I, um—dear, I do not think you should.”
What? Just as the corners of his mouth dipped downward, she clarified her statement with an emphatic wave of her hands.
“No, not that I do not wish for you to be there! You just… you would not enjoy it.”
His eyes narrowed. She most certainly did not wish for him to be there. But why? Who was this friend, and why were they demanding her attention this evening?
Estinien was no fool. He was well aware of his competition. Lucca encountered all kinds of people—not only here, but on other worlds as well. Everywhere she went, she made a positive impact on countless lives, which was something that he had always admired about her. Unfortunately for him, however, there were others who admired it as well.
Ones who had known her for longer. Ones who spent more time with her. Ones who confidently and effortlessly provoked her laughter. Many of them could be deterred by a deep scowl sent their way from over Lucca’s shoulder, but a brave few could not. He could do naught but watch as they embraced her, casually throwing their arms around her without the reservation that he possessed.
And if the host of this party were one of those few? Something foreign and prickly unfurled deeply within him at the thought. Estinien straightened and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Whether I enjoy it or not would be for me to decide.”
Lucca grimaced at him, then sighed with a shake of her head. “Alright. We ought to get going, then.”
Estinien nodded resolutely, and she took his hand as she began a teleportation spell. Naught would be catching him by surprise tonight.
Moogles. There were moogles everywhere.
It was a godsforsaken moogle party.
Only Lucca could be roped into an event like this. Well, Lucca, and now him. He usually scoffed whenever she threw her hands up and called him ‘stubborn,’ but even he had to admit—his stubbornness had gotten him into a damned mess this time.
Lucca’s teleportation spell had taken them to Gridania, where they promptly departed the city by a ferry that carried them to a secluded area in the eastern part of the Twelveswood. They walked from there, straying farther and farther from civilization until they reached a small clearing in the middle of the forest. Small twinkling lights adorned the perimeter of trees, casting a warm glow on them as they passed through a large, hollow log which opened to a much wider clearing—and a large, raucous gathering of moogles. With only a few words of explanation, Lucca quickly replaced her feathered hat with the blue one she had brought with her, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and made a beeline to the center of the party.
Now here he was, stranded in a sea of fluff and bouncing poms. There was a near constant echo of cacophonous squeaks and whistles ringing in his ears. Nearby, a small gaggle of the creatures were speaking in an animated fashion, arguing over their preferred types of flower buds. Were they… drinking wine? Estinien furrowed his brow. What did moogles do, exactly?
According to Lucca’s incredibly brief and hasty explanation, these ones were in charge of mail delivery—which was rather difficult to believe. The moogles he had met in the Churning Mists made a habit of foisting their chores onto whichever unfortunate soul happened to be nearby and would never possess the discipline to deliver all the realm’s mail. Estinien shook his head at the memory of them. It seemed so long ago, now. Lucca had seemed to take some sort of enjoyment from being around the floating vermin, while he… well, he would rather have forgotten the entire ordeal.
He looked over to Lucca as she spoke with one of the moogles. It was the one that was being honored with this party—the ‘deputy postmoogle.’ Or so he assumed. Estinien’s eyebrows dipped into a deep furrow as he glanced around the small crowd surrounding her. How in the hells could she tell these creatures apart?
It was honestly admirable, how well things with such stubby arms had managed to decorate the clearing. The lights in the tree canopies that he had noticed before were delicate strings of small shining crystals. Many of the bushes had thin, colorful paper streamers adorning them. Old tree stumps served as surfaces for moogles to perch and lounge on, while the flattest ones were being used to hold plates and baskets of various foods, making them the most popular spots of the party.
While Estinien had been successful so far in keeping out of the way of those crowds, he was aware his peace wouldn’t last forever. The damned creatures were too curious for their own good. And of course, as if it had heard his thoughts, a moogle carrying a silver serving platter chose that very moment to flutter up to him.
“Who are you, kupo?”
Estinien scowled in response, hoping that would encourage it to leave him alone. It did not.
The moogle brought one paw up to its chin. “Are you here with Lucca?”
After continuing to glare at it for several moments, it became clear that the creature had no intention of backing down. Estinien answered with a deep sigh, “Aye.”
“Oh, how wonderful!” With great enthusiasm, the moogle bobbed up and down, sending some of the wine in the glasses it carried splashing onto the tray. “You see, we all work alongside her as delivery moogles! Or rather, I should say most of us do. The rest caught wind of the celebration and showed up anyway—though as I always say, the more the merrier, kupo!”
Right on cue, a moogle blew into a small horn somewhere nearby, prompting several others to do the same throughout the clearing in an off-key chorus. Estinien winced.
The one speaking to him then held its tray as far out as it could with its tiny arms and asked, “Would you like something to drink?”
This was absurd. Everything about this was outright absurd. Any moment now, he would awaken and realize that this was all just a dream—an elaborate illusion created by his own mind to torment him while he slept.
He blinked once, twice. No such luck.
“No.”
“Suit yourself, kupo! You ought to be proud to be friends with Lucca, you know. She is our finest delivery Au Ra!” It paused, then tipped its head in thought. “Of course, now that I mention it, she is our only delivery Au Ra…”
Another moogle interrupted the deep conundrum to request a glass of wine, which was met with a shockingly high-pitched reprimand for having too many glasses already. Estinien looked back and forth between them as an argument began, then seized the opportunity to slink away unnoticed. There had to be a better hiding spot somewhere around here.
He began walking the perimeter of the clearing, stepping over various party favors that littered the soft grass beneath his feet. He passed a group of moogles with playing cards in their hands, all perched around a wide, old tree stump. A pile of various nuts and colored pebbles sat in the middle of it—did these things truly hold some kind of value to moogles? His question was answered when one of them suddenly slammed a card down, eliciting various grumbles and groans from the others as it began greedily pawing at the stash.
It was a bit quieter here, but not enough for his tastes. He moved outward, ducking under a few large branches, but there seemed to be a group gathered here, as well.
Somehow, they had managed to procure a banner with a crude drawing of a striped antelope without a tail and had strung it between two young trees. One of the moogles was blindfolded and holding a strip of fabric, attempting to place it where the tail ought to be on the drawing. Estinien paused and observed this for a moment. Guided by the loud cheers from the others surrounding it, it eventually managed to pin the tail… to the antelope’s head. The group immediately broke out into tittering squeaks and jeers. One of them even grabbed a tomato out of a nearby basket and threw it at the blindfolded one, who then flew into the crowd in an angry flurry.
Estinien shook his head, but couldn’t help huffing in amusement. Apparently, nowhere was safe. After walking a bit longer and dodging more than a few tipsy, wobbly moogles, he settled on a large, gnarled tree that stood within sight of Lucca. Unfortunately, there was no sign of her being any closer to finishing her conversation—in fact, more partygoers were gathering around as her arms gestured in wide arcs. He leaned his back against the trunk of the tree and closed his eyes.
Leaving was, of course, always an option—his most favored option, in truth—but it was not one he could take this time. His damned pride was on the line, as he had insisted on attending this party even after Lucca warned him against doing so. He sighed heavily. How was he to know?
He had been expecting to meet someone angling to steal her away from him, but instead received an entire forest’s worth of moogles. Moogles, of all things, and somehow Lucca was acquainted with all of them. It was baffling to think that—by the Fury, something was pulling on his hair—
“How do you manage to see when your fur hangs so low in front of your eyes, kupo?”
“Get your paws off of me,” he growled, swatting at the creature. It gave a hiccupping squeak in response, flying backwards just out of his reach. Apparently noticing the altercation, Lucca finally departed from her group and jogged over to them. The moogle whirled around to face her, floating close to her head.
“You have chosen quite a hostile companion, kupo!”
“Yes, I know,” she said with a laugh and small shrug of her shoulders. “I need to speak with him, though. Would you mind, Kuplo Kopp?”
“If you say so! I’m glad I don’t need to speak with him…” The moogle fluttered away, leaving him and Lucca standing alone and silent under the large canopy.
Estinien clenched his jaw in frustration. Before she could say anything, he turned away and muttered, “I have to go.”
“Estinien… I am sorry.” He glanced at her in confusion, and saw that her face had fallen. “I ought to have told you what kind of party it was. I knew you would not have a good time. You just had that stubborn look in your eye and, well, for once I wanted you to find out for yourself that I was right.” She let out a sigh. “It was petty of me.”
Lucca had always been one to take joy in saying ‘I told you so,’ and Estinien was well aware of that. This situation was not her fault, though—at least, not entirely. He frowned and shook his head, dismissing her apology. “I doubt I would have believed you even if you had told me.”
It was a naked truth—that there was a moment where his jealousy had smothered his trust in her, but it was lost on Lucca. Instead, she laughed, having read a different meaning from his words.
“It does seem rather far-fetched. ‘Oh, my apologies, I must attend a moogle party!’ It sounds like a fanciful excuse to escape a dull meeting.”
“That it does,” Estinien said lowly. He couldn’t bring himself to correct her. She eyed him carefully for a moment, then smiled in encouragement.
“You know what? After I say goodbye to the deputy postmoogle, we can leave. Is that alright?”
Just as he was about to respond, a sudden piercing screech broke through the low, constant din of noise surrounding them. All attention turned toward a frantically waving moogle bobbing up and down near the edge of the clearing.
“The Seedseers are coming!”
For a few seconds, there was dead silence. Then all hells broke loose.
Moogles started buzzing this way and that, bumping into each other with loud squeals. Wine sloshed out of the small glasses they held, staining their pristine white fur and dripping to the ground. There was a loud thud that came from a group who had been carrying a strange machine with a prominent Ironworks logo engraved on the side, as they immediately dropped their cargo to the ground. Anything that could be picked up was hastily snatched and taken away. The moogles at the card game were gathering as many pebbles and nuts as they could in their arms before shooting off in different directions. One of them even collided with Estinien’s head and startled with a screech before frantically fluttering away with its ill-gotten gains.
In the midst of it all, Lucca and Estinien could only stand in shock, silently absorbing the mayhem surrounding them on all sides. After a few moments, and a few more near-misses from rushing moogles, Lucca looked up at him.
“Seems like the party is over, no? We ought to leave before I have to explain to Raya-O-Senna why I enabled this event.” Lucca’s expression was slightly sheepish, but somehow, Estinien doubted she would have received the harsh lecture she was expecting. She grabbed onto his hand and waved her hand to begin casting a spell. “Hold on tight, darling.”
With a flash of bright, blueish-green light, they teleported away.
In an instant, they reappeared safely back at the aetheryte plaza of Radz-at-Han. It always amazed Estinien that even in the evening, it was just as bright, lively, and bustling here as it was during the day. Next to him, Lucca released a sigh of relief, then looked up at him and began to giggle.
“Oh dear, there is wine in your hair,” she said, reaching up and lifting a lock of his hair away to inspect it. Surely enough, a sizeable section of his bangs was damp and stained red. Estinien huffed.
“And there is fluff in yours,” he countered lightly, before plucking a tuft of white fur off her head and releasing it. They both watched its journey as it floated down to rest on the polished tiled floor of the plaza. Lucca laughed and shot him a cheeky grin.
“Well, we still have the whole night ahead of us, do we not? Shall we find a nice rooftop to explore?”
There was no denying that she knew his preferences well at this point.
“Aye. In fact, I found one the other day that I thought you might like.” As he turned away to lead her outside, however, he hesitated. After a moment of consideration, he instead offered his arm out to her, like he had seen many a stuffy Ishgardian gentleman do. Her brows lifted in surprise.
“Oh, is that right?” She stepped in close to him and took his arm. “I cannot wait to see it, then.”
Despite the events of the evening, Estinien felt his expression soften as they stepped out into the warm Thavnairian night. After all, with her arm wrapped so securely around his, what else could he do but smile?