Chapter Text
G'raha Tia shoved his bunched up scarf into his pack next to a few rolled up pairs of trousers and a oilcloth bag, which contained the desk set that his fellow Students had gifted him upon learning of his new assignment. He hated packing and grumbled himself even as the thrill of a journey greatly anticipated settled like a levin current beneath his skin. With a sigh, Raha looked up from the pack perched precariously upon his bed and let his eyes take stock of his room—his old room, or soon to be, anyway, and that thought sobered him.
G'raha had lived in the Annex for longer than he hadn't, and as his eyes drifted over the emptier shelves, the dark patches upon the walls where old notes and sketches had kept the sunlight from bleaching it through, the pinboard that no longer bowed dangerously under the weight of all it held, a cloud of melancholy settled in his chest. There were gaps everywhere he looked, little spaces that had once been filled with the ephemera of his life and now seemed… sad and vacant.
It would be strange, leaving the only home he truly called Home; yet, to be given a chance to study the Tower, to put all of his knowledge, his life's work, to use—to fulfill his family's legacy…! It was too great a calling to ignore, especially for such a selfish desire as sentiment.
Still, it would be hard to leave on the morrow; even with Krile's assurance that his room would be waiting for him when the work was done, G'raha couldn't shake the feeling that this would be the last time he would occupy this space.
Well. Dwelling on it wouldn't get him to Mor Dhona any faster, and with that thought G'raha resumed his task.
There truly wasn't much left to pack (for a much larger trunk full of his other belongings had already been added to the ship's manifest and was likely waiting to be hoisted aboard The Nomad's Lantern, if it had not already been loaded). What remained were but a few smaller items that G'raha wished to keep on his person during the trip. His shaving kit, though he'd only recently begun to need its use more regularly (a fact he was, privately, quite proud of). The compass Ojika had gifted him on his last nameday. A small drawstring bag full of black hair pins and short lengths of thin woven cord.
Two of the items were purely for research purposes: a pair of thin reference tomes about the revival of the Allagan Empire that he had borrowed from the Noumenon. (He did, of course, have every intention of bringing them back. But they would be better put to use in the field than they would sitting on the shelves collecting dust and watching the mammets dance, so the prolonged borrowing felt justified. At least, that's how he would explain it if anyone caught him making off with Studium property.)
Most important, though, was his personal journal, leatherbound and well-worn, the cover patinated from years of handling. Tucked between its pages were a few of Krile's sketches, including G'raha's personal favorite: a sketch done of the three of them—him, Krile, and Master Galuf, Twelve rest his soul. G'raha picked up the tome, flipping through to the precious portrait. Galuf Baldesion, smiling and some ten years younger than when he had passed, stared up at him as if he could not be more proud.
That was how Krile found him, blinking back tears so he would not smudge the ink and hastily tucking the rough-edged parchment back into its safe haven.
"Aren't you done yet?"she teased, her blue eyes twinkling with mirth. "You've had a whole moon!"
"Nearly," he answered, and stowed the journal among his pilfered tomes and latched the bag shut. "This is the last of it. Everything else is already at the docks."
"Well, should you have forgotten anything, simply send word and I'll see it off to Mor Dhona at once," she said. Krile eyed the taut seams and straining latch of his pack. "…Are you quite sure that's going to hold?"
"Of course!" crowed G'raha, though he patted the pack gently as if afraid it might explode under greater force. "Which is to say not at all," he amended, laughter in his voice. "I may have to invest in a larger pack when we arrive in Eorzea."
"T'would be a prudent course of action, I think," Krile agreed. She stopped, then, taking in the state of the room—all the haphazard holes he had left, the piles of belongings that hadn't quite made the cut; the remnants of a frantic, last-minute search through his armoir, strewn about like a trail of breadcrumbs. "I meant it when I said this place shall be exactly as you left it when you return," she said, a hint of censure in her voice. "And I do mean exactly."
G'raha's ears went flat, and he looked away. "I'll, er, tidy up before tomorrow—"
But Krile shook her head, her smile gentle, and hopped up on the bed, kicking her feet as her gaze wandered round the room again. "Not how I would spend my last night in Sharlayan," she mused, "but we all have our quirks, I suppose." Her eyes flicked up, meeting his mismatched gaze with a look that was both unassuming and able to pierce him to his core. "So… What are you doing with your last evening?"
G'raha felt his face heat as he carefully considered his answer. He knew exactly what Krile was inferring, and ultimately decided that denial served no purpose other than furthering her amusement.
"Yes, fine," grumbled G'raha, and he snatched up his pack and moved it to the door just for the excuse to avoid her eyes, "I'm going to see him tonight."
He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, all flushed beneath his freckles and flattened ears, then grumbled miserably and busied himself with tidying while Krile's eyes followed. To her credit, she didn't tease him about his very visible crush; she simply folded her hands in her lap and watched.
"And how is he taking the news?"
G'raha froze, an old linen shirt dangling from his fingers as his throat constricted around a lump of red-hot guilt. "I, er, haven't told him yet," he mumbled.
"Sorry," said Krile, blinking slowly and putting back her hood, as if the cloth had obstructed her hearing, "I thought I heard you say that you haven't told him yet. But I know that's not what you said, right, Raha?" When his only response was the guilty swish of his tail, Krile gasped. "G'raha Baldesion Tia!"
G'raha winced, his shoulders a defensive wall round his ears. Baldesion wasn't his legal name, of course, but Galuf had called him that once, when he had done something stupid that was both funny and earned him a scolding, and now Krile used it when Raha was especially exasperating. Or funny. Or, as was the case now, utterly foolish.
"I'm going to!" he insisted, as if that made it better. "Tonight!"
Disapproving, Krile shook her head. "Always leaving everything to the last minute…" She hopped off the bed, crossing the room to pat him on the leg. "I hope it goes well," she said, quite sincere.
G'raha looked down at her. "Why wouldn't it?" he asked, one ear quirked in confusion. "We're academics—this is my life's work. This is what we do." He smiled. "He'll understand."
Krile stared up at him, a look of pity in her blue eyes. "Best of luck, Raha," she said, after a moment. Then she left, pulling the door closed behind her and leaving G'raha alone with his uncertainty.
Late that afternoon, G'raha made his way to the Studium dormatories, where he and his not-date, thank you very much Krile, had chosen to meet. It wasn't the first time he'd been to the other Miqo'te's living quarters, but as he knocked on the door and waited for an answer, he tugged nervously at the hem of his quilted doublet. It was a bit large for him, yet, too loose around the shoulders and too tight above his hips, but it had been the nicest thing he owned that he hadn't yet packed, and thus the only real choice. It also hid the ink stains on his shirt from his careless past self and, generally, gave him an air of looking rather well put together.
Still, he wondered if it was too much.
This was not a date, after all; but he'd thought, maybe, that it could be if he weren't such a coward, and if he wasn't leaving on the morrow—and that thought had, in turn, considered that maybe the news would be better received if he didn't look like his usual unkempt self.
His tail twitched in agitation behind him, to the point he let out a sigh and took it in his hands, instead, capturing the thing as if it were an enemy agent and willing it with a frown to be still. The door opened a moment later, and G'raha hastily shifted into a more casual stance as his green-haired friend appeared in the open doorway. He wasn't surprised to see the man clad in a heavy dark green sweater, the white linen shirt beneath crisp and wrinkle free. L'kayah had always been particular about his appearance, and even in the warmer months, Sharlayan's clime was much colder than whatever L'kayah was used to.
'It's much warmer where I'm from,' was all the man had ever said on the matter, his Eorzean accent colored in such a way that G'raha could never quite pinpoint it on a map. All of this only made G'raha more curious, though by now he'd long since stopped needling the other man about it. Though L'kayah had been in attendance at the Studium for nearly three years, now, he was still cagey about his origins, and pestering him only made him guard his secrets more closely.
So: G'raha had, against his very nature, let the mystery alone. Perhaps one day, he'd earn enough of L'kayah's trust that, instead of prying it open through force of will, L'kayah might let him into the vault of his past.
Then again, G'raha realized with a pang, he was very much running out of time.
L'kayah smiled upon seeing it was G'raha, and the brightness in his deep purple eyes tugged at something in G'raha's chest, a giddy sort of feeling that, for the moment at least, he forgot all about their impending deadline. The other Miqo'te pushed his glasses up on his nose and looked G'raha up and down—which also did something to G'raha Tia that he couldn't (or didn't want to) put a name to.
"You're early," said L'kayah, sounding vaguely impressed. G'raha tugged at his clothing again and cleared his throat.
"And yet I failed to catch you by surprise," G'raha quipped back, affecting a lofty air. "Are you so eager to leave the stuffy halls of the Studium behind, or are you just that happy to see me?"
L'kayah nearly rolled his eyes and stepped out of his room, locking it behind him. G'raha was still astounded that the boy had managed to get a room all to himself instead of being forced to share a space with several other students; G'raha and Krile both had been fortunate enough to have other quarters on the island to return to each day, but he'd heard stories from some of the other students about the sometimes comedic, often perilous details of sharing living quarters with a stranger.
"Don't let your head get too big, G'raha Tia," L'kayah responded, and it was only the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth that gave his humor away. "I have been thinking about this lunch for a sennight."
"Just lunch?" he teased. When L'kayah's ears went flat, G'raha, now grinning from ear to ear, offered the other man a little bow. "Well—far be it from me to keep you from it any longer. Shall we?"
"…and so that's when I suggested reversing the aetheric current, and that advanced the whole project forward by days, if not weeks," said L'kayah, gesturing above his hamsa club sandwich; despite his earlier jab about lunch, he'd yet to touch his food. L'kayah pushed his glasses further up on his nose, purple eyes weary behind his round, brass-rimmed lenses. "After nearly a moon of no progress, it is gratifying to finally be getting somewhere. My only regret is that it took this long."
G'raha swallowed a bite of his curry, grinning ear to ear. L'kayah often talked of his accomplishments as if they were simply checkpoints on the path to success, but if he would not celebrate them, G'raha certainly would.
"Full glad am I to hear it," he said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "Those end-of-semester group projects can be a slog, but from what I hear, Professor Claudette is quite impressed with you. You are an asset to your fellow students and the student body at large, of this I have no doubt."
To G'raha's immense satisfaction, L'kayah's cheeks took on a rather attractive shade of red, and the young man fiddled again with spectacles that did not need adjusting and cleared his throat.
"Yes, well… I find the work agrees with me, whether or not my fellow students grasp the concepts as quickly as I. We may not have such advancements back home, but that has not kept me from understanding such things, and quickly. And, as it is my plan to share with my people what I have learned abroad, I feel the need to absorb as much as I can during my short time here."
"Ah, yes. You have said as much before." G'raha's smile softened; L'kayah's nobility was one of the things he loved about the man. "I think you an asset to them, as well. They certainly sent the right person."
L'kayah colored further and coughed into his fist. "'Tis only my duty," he began, "and it is not as if—" But then he stopped, and before G'raha could prise him for more, L'kayah conveniently remembered his sandwich and took an enormous bite. Though G'raha was certainly curious where that train of thought led—what 'duty,' and 'it was not as if' what?—the other man looked so content that he hadn't the heart to interrupt.
Instead, G'raha joined him, scooping another spoonful of his meal, and the two lunched in companionable silence.L'kayah's gaze moved across the other diners at the Last Stand and out to the bay, and G'raha took the opportunity to watch him as they ate.
How different Kayah was, now! He finally seemed at ease here in Sharlayan, and whether he was studying or exploring the city, there was an air about him that had replaced that nervous intensity he had once possessed. There were still things about him that marked him an outsider, but he carried himself with a confidence he hadn't before. G'raha was glad of it; confidence looked good on him.
He could still remember the day they had met.
G'raha had always been good with faces, so when a new one appeared before him wreathed in bespectacled, verdant-haired mystery, G'raha had been draw to it, mentally circling like a moth round a torch. He had known he was a new student right away. All of the signs were there: the downturned eyes, the tension in his shoulders, the way the boy avoided the scattered groups of the other students, the furious up-and-down glances between the page in his hand and the open lecture hall doors. It was as if G'raha was staring at a ghost of his past self, when he was yet new to the Studium and Sharlayan both.
And then they had locked eyes, and the light in his dark purple eyes had taken G'raha's breath away, just for a moment. L'kayah, then a stranger, had stared right at him for a moment, as though trying to puzzle out his intention. And then he had scurried off in the other direction and disappeared among the throng before G'raha had a chance to call out.
Raha had decided right then and there to befriend the newcomer; yet the task proved more difficult than he could have ever expected.
At first, L'kayah had rejected him outright. G'raha had introduced himself one day, and the other Miqo'te had let him know, in polite but no uncertain terms, that he preferred his solitude and had no need of a companion, whether friend, mentor, or guide.
Yet G'raha was persistant, and although the two didn't have much overlap in their classes or subjects, they would encounter each other in Phenomenon's main hall on a semi-regular basis. Each day, G'raha would reach out to him, and each day, L'kayah would give him the same rejection—and with increasing frustration. This went on for nearly a fortnight before L'kayah snapped, his accent dipping into something with musical vowels and rolling r's.
"How many times must I tell you to leave. Me. Alone?" he snarled, shoving G'raha with a force that belied his slender frame. Behind his lenses, his eyes flashed like a lightning storm. "I have no need for whatever you are trying to sell me and am perfectly capable of finding my own way, you thick-skulled, obnoxious troll!"
G'raha blinked at him, his mismatched eyes watching L'kayah huff as if out of breath, eyes flashing like a levinstorm. Normally, Raha would have fought back; he was used to defending himself, and usually against bullies larger than L'kayah, but the man's fury only drew him in.
"I'm not trying to sell you anything," G'raha said plainly. "I just thought you could use a friend." He paused, tail flicking behind him as he thought. "Where are you from? That accent… it's different from before."
Some realization settled over the other man, then, and L'kayah's face darkened, not from fury but… something else. G'raha almost thought it might be fear—and then it was gone entirely, and so was L'kayah, spinning on his heel and storming out of the hall like a pack of wild dogs were nipping at his heels.
After that, L'kayah vanished.
It was a disappointing turn. G'raha looked for him every time he was in the main hall for three full days before he gave up. It was his own fault; he'd pushed him too far, made himself a nuisance instead of a boon. Krile was often warning him against "being too pushy," and now he'd gone and proven her right.
Resigned, G'raha turned to leave.
"Wait!" Raha's ear flicked toward the sound, and the rest of him twisted to follow. "Hey, er, G'raha! W-wait a moment!"
And there he was, a book under one arm and his sling bag bouncing against his hip as he jogged awkwardly across the hall. L'kayah's face was flushed from the short sprint, and he paused a moment, leaning on his knees to catch his breath.
"Is everything alright?"
"Y-yes, I just… wanted to catch you… before you left," the boy wheezed.
G'raha gave him a moment, then cocked his head. "I thought you were avoiding me."
"I—I was," L'kayah admitted—without a hint of contrition, G'raha noted. Then he cleared his throat and stood, pushing his spectacles farther up his nose. He met G'raha's eyes for just a moment, then looked away. "Actually I… I wanted to apologize. I've done some thinking, and, while your methods leave something to be desired, your intentions have been… kind. And I should not have treated you so."
G'raha blinked, and his lips slowly curved into a smile. "I see. Well, apology accepted. No hard feelings. I… I was being a bit pushy," he admitted.
"You were."
G'raha huffed. But wait—was that a smile? He leaned in closer, but as soon as he did, the other Miqo'te looked away again.
"Are you, um…. That is… Have you eaten?" L'kayah asked suddenly, and those amethyst eyes looked up again. "Because I am famished, and I happen to have a small sum of gil burning a hole in my pockets, and I am quite tired of—"
L'kayah paused, his lips curling in disgust. G'raha liked the way the expression looked on him, when it wasn't directed his way; the way he scrunched his nose was kind of… cute.
"Of whatever passes for food in these esteemed halls?" he suggested. L'kayah's shoulders sagged with relief. This time, his wry smile was plainly visible.
"I thought you might feel the same. Would you be interested in a change of venue? My treat." Raha had his own allowance (Master Galuf made sure he and Krile had a little spending money each moon) and hated the implication he couldn't pay, even if he'd spent most of said allowance on books the first day he'd had it; but before he could protest, L'kayah held up a hand. "Please—let me make amends. It is the least I could do."
Raha's stomach chose that moment to rumble—quite audibly, in fact. L'kayah's eyebrows rose once more, and then the boy started to laugh. It was short-lived—he stifled it quickly, clearing his throat and pounding his chest as if he'd choked on something… but for one brief moment, G'raha had made him laugh.
That was well worth his pride.
"Oh, very well," he said with a shrug. "I won't say no to a free meal."
Now, here they were, two years later and still, at least occasionally, meeting each other for a meal at the Last Stand. L'kayah preferred it, not that G'raha could blame him; but he always wondered how much his allowance actually was, especially when he hailed from some backwater town.
Then again, L'kayah had never said the town was poor. But then, why didn't they have an aetheryte?
"Is there something on your mind?"
Raha looked up with a start. L'kayah was watching him, his chin balanced on the backs of his hands as he propped his elbows on the table. He'd finished his sandwich and, apparently, decided that G'raha was a much more interesting than whatever had caught his attention across the bay.
G'raha cleared his throat. "Er, no… Well, that is to say… I was just thinking about the time we first met."
Up went those damned eyebrows, creeping into his hair as a smile bloomed on his face. "Is that so? And what brought up that memory?"
He tugged at his collar, suddenly a tad overwarm. "You're different now than you were then," he said carefully. "It struck me, suddenly, sitting here with you."
"Ah. I see." L'kayah steepled his fingers, tapped his lips once in thought. "I suppose you're right, I have changed since those days." His small smile grew into something wry. "For the better, I hope."
"But of course!" G'raha laughed. "Er, not that you were, um…"
"No, you can say it: I am not an easy person to get to know."
"You are a bit… prickly."
"Prickly?" As if to prove his point, L'kayah puffed up in indignance, tail lashing behind him as his ears pointed toward the sky.
Raha grinned. "Like a sabotender."
L'kayah glowered at him for a moment or two more… and then his pouty facade cracked around a smile, and he began to laugh. It was one of the happiest sounds G'raha had ever heard in his life.
"Like a sabotender," he repeated between breaths, shaking his head. "Yes, I suppose there is some truth to that, as well." L'kayah leaned on the table, grinning back at him, and G'raha felt his stomach twist on itself. "If I am a sabotender, then you are a wharf rat," he said. "Always sticking your nose into other people's business and snuffing about for something interesting, whether they want your help or not."
G'raha had to laugh, even as his cheeks flared with warmth. He raised his hands in surrender. "Not the worst thing someone has ever called me," he chuckled. He gestured to Kayah's plate. "Are you finished? Then come—this wharf rat needs to stretch his legs."
Kayah shook his head but stood anyway, his smile wry as he adjusted his spectacles once more.
"Very well; this sabotender shall follow. Perhaps to the Agora? Maybe they've some new wares to sate the appetite of your eyes as well."
"I've more than enough to look at right here." The words were out before he could stop them. He cast about for something, anything that wasn't Kayah, to excuse himself. "B-but you're right," he stammered, "the Agora's sure to be more, erm, intellectually stimulating than people watching by the harbor. Let's go!"
He snuck a glance the other man, who was staring at him with that hard, analytical gaze of his. The crests of his cheeks were slightly pink.
"Hmm. Right… People watching," he murmured. Then, clapping G'raha on the shoulder, he started toward the city square. "Well, come on, Rat—I mean, Raha."
G'raha huffed and jogged after him. "You know, I think you're enjoying that a little overmuch."
Ahead of him, L'kayah simply laughed.