Chapter Text
Y'shtola
Even when Y'shtola was transported to an entirely unfamiliar new world against her will with no passage of return, she had kept a steady head. Two years ago, she had been forcibly taken from the Source and dragged to the First alongside Urianger. To say that the timing was inconvenient would have been generous; not only was she sure that their premature departure had heavily disrupted the Eorzean Alliance meeting that she and the Scions had been attending, but whatever allies yet remained in the Source were now without the Scions to whom the Alliance often turned to for guidance. In the best of times, this would have been an annoyance, but this had happened during what felt like the calm before the imminent storm. The Garleans threatened her nation now more than ever, and she was robbed of the chance to be there to defend it.
Y'shtola had made her displeasure extremely clear to her summoner, the Crystal Exarch of the Crystarium, once she had gotten a grasp of the situation. Though the mysterious hooded man was nigh relentlessly apologetic, it did naught to set aside Y'shtola’s growing discomfort.
The fact that the Exarch had not only summoned Y'shtola by accident instead of the Warrior of Light, but also botched the casting enough times to have brought all of the Scions here, drained her of any confidence she might have otherwise had in the man, even if it wasn't entirely his fault. With that, she was resolved to set out on her own – though not before rifling through the Cabinet of Curiosity like a good novel – given that all of her fellow Scions were occupied in various other parts of Norvrandt. Though she was aware of the disaster that this shard would face, she decided her efforts would be better spent on her own pursuits, seeing as the Exarch had already sent the other Scions on their own escapades.
Since then, she had not only become an adept wielder of destructive magicks but had also become a beloved member of the Night's Blessed. An attack on their previous headquarters a year ago had moved Y'shtola to action, rescuing and guiding no small number of their populace to Slitherbough in the Rak’tika Greatwood. There, they had begun building their new home while collectively appointing Y'shtola, or rather ‘Master Matoya’, the leader of their community. It was a role she was happy to accept, even if she hadn't counted on staying for this long.
It was now two years since her arrival upon this shard, and yet there was no sign of the woman that the Exarch intended to summon since the beginning. All of the Scions now had their own duties set in stone and their own responsibilities to pursue, but she had yet to hear anything of Lilica. The difference in time’s passage between the Source and the First did little to allay her doubts. Granted, it was somewhat difficult to contact Y'shtola in the middle of the Greatwood, but she was sure that if one of the other Scions knew of Lilica’s presence in the First, they would eventually let her know. She hoped so, anyway. In the meantime, she had people depending on her and new tomes to peruse to keep herself busy.
Indeed, she was currently occupying herself with the latter in the comfort of her own chambers. Though in truth it was little more than a cavern turned shelter, it suited Y'shtola's purposes sufficiently. Sitting at a wooden table in the corner with her head resting in her hand, she lazily browsed through the tome with only a candle for light, though that was more out of courtesy for visitors rather than for herself. Total silence filled the space she sat in, interrupted only by the occasional turning of the page. This book told of the might of the Ronkan Empire, a civilisation that Y’shtola had been studying and researching since their arrival in Slitherbough. The scholar had read a hundred similar tellings of its story, and yet her motivation never wavered, always on the hunt for even the most minute of missed details.
Three heavy knocks on her door caused Y'shtola to jolt upright. As she looked to the door, she heard a muffled voice call out, one she was now very familiar with. “Master Matoya? It's me!”
“A moment if you please, Runar!” Y'shtola called out in response. Folding the corner of the page carefully, she shut the book and wiped her eyes to eliminate any signs of exhaustion. Dinner with the Night's Blessed wasn't due to occur for another two hours; was something the matter? She took a moment to stand and stretch before retrieving her staff leant against the wall, and walking to the door.
Upon opening the door, she was met by Runar, easily one of the most devoted followers both of the Night's Blessed and of Master Matoya. The Hrothgar looked down at her with a gleeful and somewhat sheepish smile. “Master Matoya! Apologies if I disturbed you at all.”
She beamed warmly up at him. “‘Tis nothing to worry about. May I assist you?”
He shrugged. “Ah, not me. There is somebody at the entrance; you asked me to inform you at once if any strangers came asking for you.”
That captured her attention immediately. “Is she a woman? Aur– pardon, is she Drahn?” A silly slip-up: Y’shtola had long been used to the names of the races in the First as opposed to the Source, but she’d not managed to associate the corresponding name with Lilica.
Runar put one burly paw on the back of his head, standing awkwardly. “Ah… no. He is a man. An elf. Apologies.”
Y’shtola’s brows raised slightly. Assuming it was one of the Scions, this visitor was either Alphinaud or Urianger, although she was hesitant to think that anybody to whom Alphinaud was a stranger would regard him as a grown man. However, the last time she had seen Urianger was when they had gone their separate ways. While Y’shtola had made her journey to the Rak’tika Greatwood, Urianger had ventured deep into Il Mheg, the territory of the fae. Though she yet knew little of its tricksy inhabitants, she was slightly surprised at the idea of them letting Urianger leave their lands in his original condition. She shook her head, realising her speculation would be made vain upon seeing her visitor. “No worries, Runar. Let’s see to our guest, then.”
The pair of them walked silently to the entrance of their camp, passing a few of their fellow worshippers carrying out their daily duties: gardening, healing, and others. Some gave greetings as she walked by them, to which she responded with a polite smile and nod. As she and Runar entered the tunnel that would soon lead them to the open reaches of the forest, she realised that Urianger would be unaware of the Night’s Blessed’s custom regarding names. That would be something she’d need to nip in the bud quickly, lest he accidentally offended any of the worshippers.
Runar led Y’shtola to the end of the tunnel from which the everlasting Light shone through the opening, where a single man stood in wait. The height of his silhouette immediately confirmed it was not Alphinaud, and upon approaching closer, she caught sight of the unique details in his aether that confirmed it was rather her old friend. At the same time, Urianger saw her and gave a warm smile, evidently pleased if not excited to see her. Y’shtola spoke first, returning his smile with a joyful expression, “Urianger! How long has it been?”
“Far too long, my friend,” Urianger gave a deep bow to both Y’shtola and Runar, as was his way of being polite. “‘Twas a trifling task to locate thee, I must admit. On the contrary, one cannot help but imagine thou knowest this forest like the back of thy hand.”
“By all means,” Y’shtola nodded and stepped past Runar, towards Urianger. She added in a lowered voice, “Have care with how you address me. ‘Tis a custom of the Night’s Blessed to take on the name of your forebears, lest the Light taint your true name.”
Urianger pondered that for a moment before nodding. “Very well, I shall take care with my words. ‘Tis then I presume that thou hast donned the mantle of Master Matoya, correct?”
“Indeed,” Y’shtola smiled. It was hardly surprising that Urianger had figured it out so quickly, but his promptness impressed her nonetheless. “Although you are not of our ranks, so there is no need for you to observe our more intricate customs beyond introductory rites and politeness.”
“That is well. Ah, but speaking of politeness, I have neglected to properly introduce myself.” Urianger’s eyes turned to Runar. “Urianger Augurelt, at thy service. I am a colleague, companion and friend to Master Matoya.”
Runar glanced at Y’shtola briefly, seeming unsure. After she gave a small nod to him, he turned back to Urianger with a smile. “Any friend of hers is a friend of ours. You may call me Runar — we are happy to keep you for as long as you will stay.”
“That is most gracious of thee,” Urianger smiled warmly again, “I bring no urgent business, lest thou shouldst worry. ‘Twas my desire only to meet my fair friend, and to update her on certain matters. I intend to depart in the early morning — I would not wish for my presence to be an inconvenience to thy people.”
Y’shtola mused that these ‘certain matters’ likely regarded the activities of the other Scions across Norvrandt, and possibly news from the Crystal Exarch. She secretly hoped that his news also included the status of their dear friend. Instead of voicing her thoughts here, she took a step back, “Shall we enter? There is a spare bed in my quarters, where you may sleep ere you leave us.”
Runar raised his hand, “Certainly. If you wouldn’t mind, Master Matoya, I would first cleanse Urianger of the Light’s taint and teach him of the ways to correctly address the people here. Do not worry, my friend, it is entirely painless: unless you are a sin eater in disguise.” Y’shtola groaned internally, having long grown bored of the same joke Runar told every new guest. A silent moment passed before Runar gave an amused chuckle at Urianger’s taken-aback expression. “I jest, I jest! As I said, if Master Matoya trusts you, then I do too.”
Y’shtola huffed a small chuckle. “Very well. Pray direct Urianger to my quarters once the two of you have finished.”
“As you say.” Runar nodded, beckoning Urianger to join his side. “Come with me, honoured guest. Fear not, we will not be long at all.”
The old elf smiled and began to walk back into the cave with Runar at his side, Y’shtola following behind them. Though her poker face was well-practised, she felt fortunate that the two of them walked in front of her, for she could tell that a small amount of concern had been painted in her expression. Being out here with no established method of contact with the Scions had been a challenge for her, so she was anxious to hear everything Urianger had to say to her.
Ten minutes later, Y’shtola had just finished tidying her quarters when she heard knocks upon her door for the second time today. These ones were not heavy, but instead lighter and more considerate. Setting the broom in her hands against the wall, she went and opened the door. In front of her stood Urianger, carrying a small pot by a handle. He smiled down at her, “I now stand purified in the eyes of the Night’s Blessed and am ready to speak with thee. Runar was kind — even so generous as to have had tea prepared for us.” He raised the metal pot held in his hand, a small trail of steam rising from the spout.
“He is a kind soul,” Y’shtola agreed as she stepped back to let Urianger into the room, pointing at the table where the two of them would sit. Closing the door behind him, Urianger brought the pot to the table and helped himself to two cups atop the dresser. As he poured their drinks with a steady hand Y’shtola asked, “How did you fare on your journey, Urianger? I was given to understand that the creatures of the fae realm are wont to play tricks on travellers caught unawares.”
“Aye, that they are.” Like a gentleman, Urianger pulled out the chair for Y’shtola, taking his seat opposite from her after she had sat. “But to enter the good graces of the pixies is a simpler task than one might at first think. ‘Tis a simple matter of honouring them with a gift — it doth establish a sort of truce betwixt the traveller and the pixies to leave the other at peace. Such an agreement hath served me well in my new studies.”
The mention of studies piqued Y’shtola’s interest. She’d thought she saw Urianger wearing some unfamiliar attire, a gown of sorts — and though his aether was largely unchanged, upon closer inspection she could see that it flowed through Urianger slightly differently than it did the last time they spoke. “New studies… You’ve taken up a new sort of magic?”
“Astrology, aye,” Urianger nodded before taking a sip of his tea, sighing contentedly afterwards. “Though the Light doth cover our skies like a blanket, doubt not that the stars beyond yet shineth in their brilliance. I have thus decided to find solace in the guidance they doth offer, lest our path be otherwise misguided. My previous studies in the art, as well as having borne witness to the Warrior of Light wielding the stars’ power with admirable ease, hath provided a strong foundation for me to learn with some speed.”
The mention of Lilica brought an old memory to Y’shtola’s mind, when she had decided to delve into astrology and its healing power for the first time. She had frequently consulted the once-conjurer for help and advice; although Y’shtola knew little of astrology itself, she still gave whatever she could offer to help the Warrior on her little journey. Not to mention, she had recently re-emerged from the Lifestream and was still becoming familiar with her unique sense of vision. Even so, she was happy to assist in whatever way she could.
“How ironic that you should partake in the healing arts which I abandoned in favour of wreaking destruction,” Y’shtola laughed softly. “On the topic of the Warrior of Light: have you heard aught of Lilica?”
“Ah,” Urianger’s smiling eyes fell ever so slightly, just noticeably enough for the scholar to interpret with a minute hint of disappointment. She already knew the answer that Urianger was about to give. “I did make a short stop at the Crystarium during my sojourn and traded words with the Crystal Exarch whilst I was there. His attempts to summon Lilica yet continue as the power of the Echo thwarteth his efforts.”
“I see.” Her response came out short and flat, with an accidental trace of bitterness sprinkled in.
Urianger had clearly picked up on it as his eyes met Y’shtola again, his words taking on a gentler tone. “Thou must needs understand the daunting task that the Exarch hath taken upon himself to accomplish. To pull one person through the rift unharmed is an impressive feat in itself: that he has thus managed to do so for all of us is nothing short of a miracle.”
“I understand his task perfectly, and that we were extremely fortunate to have survived the journey here.” Y’shtola took a sip of her own tea, allowing herself a pause between her words. “But who is to say that Lilica will be equally as fortunate? You yourself have said our presence was miraculous: what if the Exarch ends up killing her?”
Urianger blinked, a moment of hesitation passing before he put his finger to his chin in contemplation. Perhaps Y’shtola could have chosen her words with some discrimination as to not be so blunt, but the elf knew full well that that wasn’t how she preferred to go about things, especially in matters as sensitive as this. “Thy worries are justified… and I confess that I share them. All will be well once Lilica is safely in the First — we must needs simply have faith in the Exarch’s ability.”
“Faith?” Y’shtola could have almost laughed at the thought. “You’ve met the man firsthand: he wallows in veils of secrecy yet dares to ask our company to spread across all of Norvrandt to help him. I do not doubt that the situation regarding the overwhelming Light is dire, but the Exarch is yet to gain any semblance of trust from me. Such was the reason I left the Crystarium so swiftly, this you know — so how can you sit here and ask me to entrust our friend’s life to a man whose face, name and motives we do not yet know?”
She only realised after she had spoken that the frustration she had been bottling had pushed her over the top. Urianger looked at her with an expression she did not often see from him; not of fear, but of sadness. Y’shtola’s wrath immediately subsided as a small measure of guilt took hold instead. “Urianger… Apologies, my friend,” she murmured solemnly as she put her head in her hands, unable to meet his eyes. “I didn’t mean to direct my annoyance at you.”
“Master Matoya…”
“You may call me by my true name indoors and in private company. The Light cannot shine upon us here.”
“Y’shtola,” Urianger corrected himself, “thou art worried, my lady, that much is plain. Full well do I understand your misgivings regarding the Crystal Exarch: nevertheless, he remaineth the sole person on this star who is responsible for the safety of our companion. I beg thee again to have faith — if not in the Exarch’s capabilities, then in Lilica’s admirable strength and resolve.”
Y’shtola sighed. As much as she didn’t like sitting idly while danger yet lurked around the corner, Urianger was right. There was nothing anyone could do besides wait and pray. “She must come through safely,” she muttered under her breath, though it did little to obfuscate her words in this echoing cavern, “because I know not what I’ll do if she doesn’t.”
“Thou art restless,” Urianger mused as he finished his tea, “yet thou hast found contentment in guiding the Night’s Blessed, hast thou not? Runar did speak of the time when thou didst lead survivors of a great fire to safety and thus earned their admiration. Art thou not satisfied with thy situation as it doth stand currently?”
“I care for them, certainly, but,” Y’shtola sighed deeply, slightly agitated, “my worries are not to do with them. Lilica is missing, and as long as she remains missing, we cannot make any meaningful strides towards saving this world. I detest idleness, you know this.”
“Is that all that plagueth thee?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Come now, ‘tis scarcely as if thou hast been in high spirits. Upon thy face I see months of exhaustion and hardship.” Urianger gave Y’shtola a very particular look: one that acknowledged that he was pushing his luck, but let his friend know that he would cease speaking on this topic upon request. When she chose to remain silent, he continued on. “Lilica’s absence doth weigh heavy upon all of our shoulders, yet I sense in thee that thou art not waiting for her solely for the purposes of continuing our work. Runar did confide in me that you seemed a mote disappointed upon learning that your visitor did not match the description of our friend.”
Y’shtola lowered her eyes, a twinge of guilt spawning in her chest again. “My apologies, I did not–”
Urianger raised his hand to silence her, a reassuring smile on his face. “Lest thou shouldst worry, I take no offense. Having said that, ‘tis clear to me that Lilica doth occupy thy mind often. Dost thou miss her?”
The question was so ridiculous it prompted a chuckle out of Y’shtola. “Come now, surely you know the answer to that. She is our champion, comrade and friend to us all. Am I to understand that you don’t miss her, Urianger?”
“Nay, I do, dearly.” Urianger sat up, leaning back in his chair. “There are scarce few like her who take mutual solace in simply sitting silently in one another’s company. Given that I often must deal with the chaos of the pixies, such would be very welcome now more than ever.”
“Then why ask me such a question?” Y’shtola had a feeling she already knew what Urianger was about to suggest.
Urianger gave a hummed chuckle as he folded his arms. “Even though thine eyes hath long since surrendered their verdant vibrance, they yet betray a spark of admiration when thou art thinking of her.”
“That should be no surprise. She is the best of us, ‘tis only natural I should think highly of her.” It was obvious what Urianger was trying to do — he intended to get Y’shtola to confess to something she wasn’t quite prepared to confess. She would relent eventually; for now, she would continue dancing around his questions, just to see how much Urianger thought he knew.
“Hm… mayhaps ‘admiration’ falleth short of what I mean to convey. At the risk of incurring thine ire,” Urianger began with a small smile, though Y’shtola struggled to tell if he truly believed he might anger her, “I daresay thine admiration of her extends to an affection of sorts.”
There it was. Y’shtola lifted her cup to her lips once more, sipping her tea with a wry smile as she responded, “Mayhap it does. What of it?”
“‘Tis not mine intention to pry — but if thou didst wish to speak more personally of her, if only to alleviate the burden upon thy heart…” Urianger trailed off, yet his gaze remained firmly fixed upon Y’shtola.
His offer was met with silence as Y’shtola stared down at her half-empty cup, a myriad of thoughts swimming around her mind. Any playfulness in her mind was now gone, replaced with a longing that Y’shtola had grown somewhat familiar with by now. Though she had denied it to Urianger’s face, it was futile to deny it to herself: there was something in her that wanted only to see Lilica’s face, or to hear her cheery voice once more. While her absence hadn’t exactly made Y’shtola depressed, it would be a lie to claim it didn’t weigh her down during most of her waking hours. It was a classic case of not knowing what you have until it’s gone: something Lilica had confided in Y’shtola about when she had recovered from her time in the Lifestream. She had been so used to her presence that she could almost swear that she still saw Lilica in the corner of her eye on occasion. There was so much about her that Y’shtola appreciated from afar but hadn’t told to her face, including…
“The butterfly pin.” Y’shtola suddenly sat up straight and looked at Urianger hard, eyebrows now furrowed.
The man seemed a little stunned at her abrupt spark of energy. “Aye…” He nodded slowly, allowing Y’shtola the space to speak further.
“The blue and purple one that she always wears in her hair, ‘tis her favourite accessory. I recall her regaling me of her bout with Nidhogg in Ishgard.” She gave a small chuckle as she recalled the memory of their conversation at the Rising Stones. “It was surreal: our hero had narrowly escaped death at the hands of a great wyrm — do you know what she was most worried about after the fact? That during the fight she had somehow managed to dislodge the pin from her hair, and spent minutes looking for it before even accepting any healing aid.”
Urianger smiled softly. “‘Tis an iconic element of her picture indeed.”
“And it is evidently so important to her,” she huffed. “To see her without it would be akin to seeing the twins without their mirrored hair. It complements her image perfectly.”
“Indeed. I am of the same mind in regards to the attire she donneth alongside her gunblade. Her dark robes doth offer protection and style both. She is a woman who is aware that her image is important.”
“Not only is she aware, but she takes pride in it.” It was only at this moment that Y’shtola realised she was beaming, but she didn’t care. “I daresay she is one of few people I know who seem happier in their war attire than in more comfortable clothes. I wonder what she would think of our new appearances.”
“I daresay she will find thee captivating,” Urianger assured her, “and likely will also appreciate mine own attire. She hath always had an eye for darker colours, with which we have become well acquainted.”
“Captivating? That’s a rather strong word.” Y’shtola privately noted that Urianger claimed Lilica would see her as such, not simply her attire.
“Oh? I only thought thou wouldst be enticed by the idea.”
“Hm. Mayhaps I am, if only a little.”
“Wouldst thou yet deny the truth of thy feelings for her?”
Somehow, Urianger had caught her off guard with such a direct question. It seemed to be a talent he’d cultivated over the years he’d known Y’shtola and the other Scions: using their own conversation tactics against them. With a sigh, she finally relented, “I suppose there’s no good to come of playing around it, is there?”
“Though I full well understand the hesitance that doth accompany facing uncomfortable truths, ‘twould seem it is always better to do so sooner than later.” He paused a moment before adding in a more sombre tone, “‘Tis what I wish I would have done for Moenbryda, to have made up for my years of recluse. Even if those circumstances differed from thine, the principle yet remaineth the same.”
So Urianger had a reason to speak about this beyond teasing Y’shtola after all. Though he likely wouldn’t voice it directly, his thoughts were readable in those golden eyes: he wanted Y’shtola to take a chance he couldn’t bring himself to take himself. Even with his encouragement however, some doubts remained. “The gulf in time may well make navigating our situation difficult. For you and I it has been two summers past with possibly more to come; for her, it may well have been yesterday that we left the Source. ‘Twould be embarrassing for me to fall upon her with years of yearning in my heart while she last spoke to me only a few bells ago.”
“Thou shouldst remember that all of us have not seen Lilica in those summers past. Doubtless thou wilt not be the only one to lavish her with attention.” After a moment of thought, Urianger reached across the table, taking one of Y’shtola’s hands in his own. Without thinking, she intertwined her fingers with his, seeking any comfort she could find. He continued, “Furthermore, thou wilt have an abundance of time to reconnect with Lilica upon her arrival in the First, wilt thou not? ‘Tis hardly as if there will be nary a moment of reprieve.”
“Ugh. Your ability to make sense of the most confounding situations can be so maddening at times,” Y’shtola weakly chuckled. “This is unfamiliar territory for me. I am a scholar and researcher at heart; I am wholly unprepared to deal with emotions as intense as the ones I hold.”
“Art thou worried thou couldst wound Lilica?”
“‘Tis very possible, assuming she even reciprocates what I feel for her. Though, I suppose I wouldn’t be opposed if she didn’t. I could mayhaps be satisfied enough knowing that she is aware of how much I adore and appreciate her. I–” she sighed, attempting to find the words to speak, “I would not put any pressure on her.”
The last statement got a small but amused chuckle from Urianger. “Thou wouldst not put any pressure on Lilica Saint, the Warrior of Light? She who hath slain multiple primals, dragons and Ascians for the sake of delivering salvation to the whole of Eorzea, and indeed the star itself?”
Y’shtola gave a small yet somewhat saddened smile. “I suppose you’re right. In some ways, part of me still sees her as the young and fresh adventurer I met in La Noscea summers ago, still learning to wield a beginner’s grimoire and summon carbuncles.”
“Mm…” Urianger hummed. His expression betrayed that he was contemplating something: Y’shtola had identified that face long ago. “Dost thou believe that Lilica harboureth no affection for thee?”
She took a moment to ponder the question, though part of her regretted that she even needed to. It wasn’t as if Lilica disliked her, that she was certain of. She had always been all smiles whenever the two of them spoke, except in some few exceptional circumstances. “She was there when I was returned from the Lifestream, was she not?”
“Aye, she was,” Urianger nodded, “and not only was she present, but I daresay she was the leading motivator for finding a solution to facilitate thy safe return.”
“Truly? She hadn’t mentioned that. That is… heartening to hear,” Y’shtola put a hand to her chest and gave a small chuckle as she recalled another fond memory. “I remember when I was recovering from my time in the Lifestream, and Lilica had come to visit me in my chambers. Some few minutes into her visiting time, she asked me with such worry in her voice: ‘is my new fringe not to your liking?’”
It was rare to see embarrassment on Urianger’s face; it was rarer still to find second-hand embarrassment instead. Yet the man covered his mouth with his free hand, hiding the grin that was doubtless spread across his face. “Oh heavens, that poor woman…”
“By the stars, she was horrified once I’d explained I couldn’t see it!” Y’shtola laughed sweetly, “I daresay she apologised to me at least once a day for the following week after that event. I only wish I could have seen that midnight skin blush red at that moment.”
“That is our Warrior of Light,” Urianger asserted as he removed his hand from his face, though a genial smile still spread across his lips, “noble-hearted and ever-spirited, yet as innocent as a lamb. She hath grown a considerable amount since those days, hath she not?”
“She has,” Y’shtola smiled, but as she reminisced on more memories – Lilica visiting her in the infirmary after Zenos yae Galvus had maimed her; defending Ishgard side-by-side from the Dravanian horde; visiting the Azim Steppe together – her smile began to slowly fade, her fondness for past times replaced by a sort of melancholy. Her voice grew softer, more delicate. “When I picture her face in my mind’s eye – what I can remember of it, anyway – I cannot help but feel a sense of pride: not only in her growth, but also for me to have been at her side during her journey. To call myself her ally brings me a joy I can scarcely find elsewhere.”
“‘Tis more than plain that thou truly holdest a deep appreciation of her character,” Urianger beamed, clearly relating to her sentiment to some degree. After a brief pause he posed, “Couldst thou then forgive my lack of decorum and thus confide in me: dost thou love her?”
Gods, she had been hoping Urianger wouldn’t ask such a blunt and impossible question. She knew what the answer was, the true answer, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to say the few words to summarise it. The only thing stopping her was her doubts — no, not doubts. Fear. “I couldn’t say,” she began, clearing her throat as her voice broke ever so slightly, despite her best efforts to remain composed, “not without seeing her again.”
Urianger nodded, “I underst–”
“I don’t think you do. I want her back so much, Urianger,” Y’shtola kept speaking, suddenly no longer in complete control of her words. She felt the singular tear rolling down her cheek, but she couldn’t care less about how she presented herself anymore. Rising from her chair and releasing Urianger’s hand, she continued to ramble as years’ worth of loneliness spilled over, “More than words could ever describe. It pains my heart, and indeed my entire being, to be a world away from her. Even if she doesn’t see me in the same way; even if she curses my name upon learning how I truly feel about her; even if she should never look me in the eye ever again, I need her back in my company. Her compassion, beauty, conviction, selflessness, smile: all of it and more gives me the strength to keep moving forward.” She leant both hands upon the surface of the table, her voice yet quivering but with a new, dangerous edge to it. “So mark my words: if the Crystal Exarch cannot deliver Lilica to the First in mint condition, if there is even a single mark to be found upon her… May the Twelve, Hydaelyn and any other gods across the Reflections have mercy on him, because I will not.”
For a long moment, silence lingered between the two of them. Urianger stared at Y’shtola with an expression of shock, mouth slightly agape and evidently surprised that he had managed to fire her up like this. When Y’shtola realised this, she slowly sat back down in her chair, embarrassment taking hold as her eyes wandered to the side. The fire of passion in her fizzled back into embers; now she just wanted to curl up into a ball and forget about how she’d poured out an entire novel’s worth of words about one single woman.
Then Urianger let out a small yet hearty chuckle. When Y’shtola looked at him once more, she saw him smiling assuringly at her. A smile she was never disappointed to see, one that told her that she was safe in his company. “I daresay such a heartfelt soliloquy maketh for a sufficient answer to my query.”
“I had hoped so, for it was terribly out of character.” She chuckled half-heartedly, wiping her eyes. “Twelve willing I’ll fare better once I finally set eyes upon the woman.”
“I pray that thou shalt not wait long, my lady.”
“Aye. As do I.” Y’shtola sighed, somewhat relaxing once more. “Well, now that you’ve put my heart through the ringer: what news of our comrades?”
The next hour was spent with Urianger reporting what he knew of their fellow Scions: Alphinaud was still masquerading as an artist in Eulmore, Alisaie had arrived in the First and was making a living as a sellsword in Amh Araeng, though he hadn’t heard of Thancred at all. This was entirely unsurprising to Y’shtola, who mused that he was simply off on his regular renegade antics and would turn up soon. Afterwards, Urianger offered to be an official liaison between Y’shtola and the Crystarium so that she might be apprised more often of developing matters, which she graciously accepted.
The sooner she’d hear about Lilica, the better.