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Starlight season always kicked off a flurry of activities in Eorzea, with gift-giving, festivities in Gridania, and - new to this year - a masquerade held at the Borel manor. When the Moogle came by to deliver the invitation, the Warrior of Light was ecstatic. For all of the life-changing events she had been a part of, she had not had the chance for a proper ball, only experiencing it secondhand through books or the ghostly illusions of a reclusive Nu Mou.
She now had her chance, and that meant she was in dire need of an appropriate dress and mask for the occasion. Her connections came in handy here, as Redolent Rose all but demanded the honor of making a masterfully crafted ball gown for her, and Serendipity was quick to follow up with offers on the mask. Both were surely busy with orders flooding in for the season, but she received her items with plenty of time to spare.
Hopefully they had not been made at the sacrifice of sleep, but she would have to make sure to thank them both appropriately later beyond their standard fees.
The dress was as red as the Saint of Nymeia’s coat, and glittered like light dancing off of a field of snow. The ruffles of the dress in the back gave her a space to tuck away her tail if she so chose for dancing. The mask was of a similar hue (neither crafter would confirm if they had collaborated or merely arrived at a similar idea), and lined at the edges with small rubies.
On Starlight Eve, she donned the flowing gown and mask and called herself to the Ishgardian aetheryte, where a myriad of chocobo-drawn carriages awaited the arriving guests. Many others were appearing as she had, and each was ushered to a separate ride as those that had already dropped off their passengers returned for another.
As the Warrior approached the carriage, she immediately recognized the driver; the pointed ears of an Elezen heritage with the height of a Hyuran parent were unmistakable, though the suit of a noble’s servant was certainly new.
With a small bow, Hilda Ware greeted the Miqo’te.
“I wouldn’t have expected you to be a part of all of this,” the adventurer admitted.
Hilda shrugged. “Aymeric… er…. Lord Borel is a fair sight better than other nobles, and he offered a fair wage for the lads in the Brume, plus we can join when the job is done. Not a bad deal while we wait for the bigger reforms to finalize.”
The woman known as the Mongrel looked around quickly at the other carriages and seemed to panic a bit. “Ah, but… that all can wait. Your ride awaits, m’lady,” Hilda said, holding out a gloved hand to the Miqo’te. The warrior daintily accepted and allowed herself to be led into the warm and plush ride.
Aymeric spared no expense for the comfort of his guests, clearly.
Borel manor was easily spotted long before the carriage pulled to a stop, with brightly lit Starlight decorations visible from the front of the property, a beacon in the dimming light of the evening. They were even more dazzling up close, and the warrior was reminded of the eternally lit city of Alexandria.
A suited man checked invitations at the door, evidently able to scrutinize some detail about them that the Miqo’te had not taken notice of for authenticity. He waved her inside with a slight bow, and she stepped inside to the splendid ballroom.
Masked figures were all gathered in resplendent outfits of an dazzling array of styles and colors, reflecting the far-flung corners of the realm Aymeric had invited them from. Many were already engaged in conversation, but the Warrior of Light kept to herself.
Once the guests had filled the ballroom sufficiently, the host appeared on the stairs above them all, the azure mask and suit of finest materials denoting the lord of the Borel house without even a need to play at a hidden identity.
“My fine fellows, I thank you for gathering this evening,” Aymeric addressed the crowd with a wide gesture. “I have no grand speeches or reasons for your invitations here; I merely wish to extent my hospitality to those in great need of reprieve. Happy Starlight, my friends, and enjoy yourselves!”
The Keeper remained a bit of a wallflower as the musicians began to play gentle music for the guests, taking in the crowd and trying to determine who was who, as familiar faces doubtlessly hid beneath the masks. Certainly the tall Roegadyn woman was the admiral herself?
All of that guesswork was interrupted completely in a single moment.
A Hyuran woman in a sharp black suit extended a hand to her. The silvery mask contrasted magnificently with the woman’s darker skin, and her green eyes shone beneath the mask. They felt somehow familiar, but she couldn’t place a finger on where she might know that gaze from. The silvery hair, long and tied back with a simple black band, wasn’t helping either - such hues were fairly common among the people she knew.
“Might I have this dance?” The woman asked.
“Certainly,” the adventurer replied, her tone unable to hide her curiosity as she attempted to discern who the person in front of her was.
A hand pressed firmly against the adventurer’s lower back and her hand was held out as the music began to swell and the first dance began.
“You know, it’s usually poor form to so openly try to guess the identity of others at a masquerade,” the woman said. The voice offered up no clues either, but it had a calming effect.
“My apologies, I’ve never not been the type to overthink,” the Miqo’te replied.
“It is one of your admirable qualities for sure,” the suited woman said as she led her gracefully through the dance.
“I thought it was poor form to guess the person behind the mask?” the Keeper asked with a smirk.
“Though your gorgeous gown is a wonderful change of form, I doubt there are many who could deny who stands before them. Your aura betrays you, I’m afraid.”
“A curse of mine, I suppose,” the Miqo’te replied.
“Or perhaps a blessing, as it did lead me right to you to help make your evening more enjoyable,” the woman said with a slight smile.
“Oh? And are you so bold as to assume you are the cause for that?”
The Hyuran woman leaned in as the song drew to a close. She softly whispered into the Miqo’te ears, and her voice made the feline ear flick. “You’ve been as red as your dress since we began our dance, milady.”
The warrior became acutely away of the temperature on her cheeks, and gave a mock pout. “Fine, but you owe me another dance for poking fun at me.”
“Another dance with such a beautiful woman? Whatever shall I do?” The mysterious woman teased.
The next song was slower, and with initial chatter out of the way, the savior of the Star was able to fully enjoy her time in the arms of the woman before her. Whoever she was, she was a marvelous dancer, and skilled in leading her partner.
The adventurer had accepted that she might have some number of dances that evening with men, and her sense of duty might have led her to take those offers. For her first - and second! - dance to be with so splendid a woman was beyond what she could have hoped.
The Hyuran woman smiled warmly at her, and the moment seemed to draw itself out. The Miqo’te would have loved for it to last the entire night, just staring into the those wonderful, sea-green eyes…
That flickered to a gray hue just for a second.
In that singular moment, the threads connected, and she knew who the masked dancer was.
The recognition must have been plain on her face, because her nameless partner pulled away and bowed swiftly at the song’s closing, and excused herself into the crowd.
A waiting group of willing dancers closed in the gap behind her, all eager to have a chance with the vaunted hero.
She apologized profusely as she pushed past them, eager to chase down the one who had given her those few moments of elation.
A throng of expensive gowns and tailored suits was met with constant pardons as she made her way through, until finally she reached the edge of the ballroom and the glass doors that opened to a wide balcony, where only one person stood out in the cold.
She pushed through the door and quickly closed it, instantly shivering as the harsh winter night met her skin.
Once the door closed, she called out to her mysterious dancer. “Shtola!”
As if the name broke the spell, ears and a tails sprouted from the woman, and the longer hair faded like mist. When the sorceress turned around, she still wore the same attire, but she looked at her companion with silvery eyes and a weak smile.
“I thought that I could maintain that spell for longer,” Y’shtola admitted.
“Long enough,” the Keeper replied. “Though I expect no less of the woman who can turn me into a frog.” As she walked closer to Y’shtola, she felt herself growing warmer; the sorceress probably had some spell to keep the cold at bay.
Silence hung in the air, but the Keeper moved closer to partake of the magical warmth until she finally broke the silence.
“Did you… mean all of that? Back there, I mean.”
Y’shtola looked at her with a smile. “I may dabble in the strange and esoteric, but I would never lie to you.”
“So you think that I’m-“
“Beautiful? A woman whose attractiveness is as plain as day to those with the means to see it?” Y’shtola smirked. “Yes. I just have the benefit of being able to see you also have a radiant soul to match it.”
The adventurer could feel her heart beating faster in her chest. “You could have said that sometime before, you know.”
“I wanted to,” the sorceress admitted. “Many times. Before each departure, before every decisive battle, after every primal fought, after every reunion…” She sighed. “It is very difficult to get any research done with you on my mind, you know.”
The adventurer was too stunned for words, but kept her eyes locked on her companion’s.
“Aymeric’s ball provided a perfect excuse. Or so I thought,” Y’shtola continued. “You would recognize me instantly in just a mask, thus the glamour, but it required a level of concentration that proved hard to maintain once you were in my arms.”
“Flatterer,” the adventurer said, and wrapped her arms around Y’shtola’s waist. “Since you’ve been so honest, it’s only fair that I also speak my mind.” She took the Scion’s hands and clasped them gently between her own, then leaned up and placed a soft kiss on Shtola’s lips.
Though magic was keeping them from freezing in the wintry air, it was nothing compared to the warmth that filled her as the made contact - a moment that the sorceress happily returned.
When their lips parted, the Warrior of Light wrapped her arms around Y’shtola. “Aymeric wished us a happy Starlight, and nothing would make me happier than sharing it with you.”
Y’shtola wrapped one arm around her companion and trailed her fingers through the adventurer’s hair with the other, eliciting a soft purr as she did. “Just tonight?” She asked carefully.
“I never said it would just be this Starlight. Or wouldn’t include the time between them.”
Y’shtola chuckled. “Why, you make it sound like it should always be Starlight.”
“If this is how they will be, why shouldn’t every day feel like it?”
The next kiss answered that she saw no reason why it shouldn’t be.