“How Did We Form Constellations From Our Messy Stars?”

a/n: an excerpt from a longer WIP that I don’t know if I’ll ever post. At least I can use it as a very abstract contribution to today’s entry of #febhyurary

title: glamour | rating: teen & up | word count: approx. 1000 | characters: guinevere talon/warrior of light, y'shtola rhul | setting: shortly after the dragonsong war

–

The sight of a light party brought a smile to her face. It wasn't rare to see dragoons jumping around the Lancer's guild in Gridania, showing off in front of the new recruits or paying a visit to old mentors. As she followed the trace of their spears, her eyes lowered to the female dragoon's exposed belly. Since the moment she received her amor from Alberic she thought it was ridiculous, specially under the harsh winds of Coerthas. She wondered how funny it would look on her now.

Her body hadn't changed that much in such a short time, but she could feel every minimal variation. Her abdomen was still flat, but her abs were softening under her ribcage, and the healthy pocket of fat she'd never been able to lose had grown a little since she last checked. She wasn't sure her tight dragoon armor would fit her now, nor anytime soon.

With the hearing of footsteps getting closer, her smile vanished.

"I had the feeling I'd find you here," Y'shtola said, leaning on the railing right next to her. "You shouldn't turn off your linkpearl, you know. You had everyone worried."

"Am I to blame for wanting some time for myself? I think I earned it."

"And you did, but that doesn't mean that they aren't a little on edge."

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Right. Whatever."

Still, she didn't attempt to move. Five more minutes wouldn't hurt anyone. Y'shtola did neither, as she drummed her fingers, humming lightly.

"I know we've never been the best of friends. Not that I've ever made an effort to change that, but..." She shook her head. "I'm just trying to say – I understand you didn't tell me of all people right away, but trying to keep it a secret? That's mean."

The Midlander looked at her sideways. "I beg your pardon?"

Y'shtola seemed to be taken aback. "Guinevere, you do know you are pregnant, right?"

Oh. That.

"I... do, aye. But I haven't told anyone else, not just you." She sighed. Well, almost anyone. "How did you find out?"

"Your aether," she answered inmediately, as if it were obvious. "It has changed, grown considerably in just a few weeks. I did some research, and found my answer." Guinevere placed her hands on her belly, as if she could feel that growth on her fingertips the same way she did. Y'shtola's eyes were wide open, and she could read her curiosity in them, even if the white fog veiled her features. "And... You haven't told the others because you don't know what to do, or...?"

"Still thinking about it, aye. The risks are too high, and the timing couldn't be worse, I know, but..." She gestured vaguely. "Since Hydaelyn awakened the Echo in me I haven't had any choice but to follow her path. I cannot just not slay eikons, I cannot let the Ascians or the Empire have their ways in Eorzea. I had to involved in the Dragonsong War. But I have a choice in this, and I want to make things right."

Guinevere blurted it all out, her whole heart, to Y'shtola. She didn't think they ever had shared so many words – at least without Vicky around trying to make them become friends. And she had the feeling she was really listening to her, without second intentions, with more than morbid curiosity. She couldn't exactly tell why, mayhap she was an idiot and it was just her blindness making her look nicer and more innocent now, but she didn't feel any bad by talking to her about this. Y'shtola dared to push things a little further, patted her shoulder and asked:

"What does the father think about this?"

"I wouldn't know. He died before I found out."

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright." Guinevere smiled bitterly. "I think he would have been excited about it. He was excited about everything."

The dragoons cheered over the victory of one of them, and the laughter of the defeated echoed their yelling. Her time at the guild had never been so blissful. It was almost hard to believe she once stood in the same ground as them – but her path seemed meant to always be the most difficult one. Another reason to be sensible and simply not bring a child to this world.

"It's pointless to think about it now," she told Y'shtola. "It only makes me feel like I'm betraying his memory, or whatever shite my brain is trying to drown me into. If I have it, it has to be my decision."

The Miqo'te tilted her head. "Mayhap we should best talk about this over a cup of tea. I can tell Alisaie we'll delay a little. I believe you don't still need them, but we could discuss glamour spells I could cast upon you to disguise your belly, and I know a variety of shells and protections for when you inevitably show up in the battlefield."

Dubious, Guinevere arched an eyebrow. "You... would do that? Why? You said it yourself, we're not friends."

"Mayhap I want us to be."

"Look, if this is because I helped bring you back from the aetheric currents..."

"It is not." Y'shtola rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, I am fully aware I owe you naught. For real, I don't know do you get everyone to love you so much when you are so defensive all the time."

She scoffed. "That makes the two of us."

But she bit her inner cheek. This was something she never expected to happen, and felt grateful the Miqo'te wasn't able to see the light blush that covered her cheeks. It was a nice feeling for once, though. She swallowed all the other mean replies she could spite her back, and simply murmured:

"Thanks. You... It's nice of you to offer. I didn't know glamours could do that."

Y'shtola's smile was radiant under her usual smugness. "My, my, but who taught you conjuring? Or thaumaturgy, for that matter? You can't call yourself a mage if you don't even know how a simple glamour works."

"I'm starting to regret this..."

Mayhap this was the start of a new friendship. If Vicky could see them now...

i made a quiz: which of my favourite specific character archetypes are you?

12 results, including King, Lionheart, Beauty, Beast, Life/Death/Life, Prophet-Martyr, Scholar, Trickster, Matryoshka Doll, Sister Winter, Web-Weaving Spider, and Ancient Star.

i’m sorry

i require more wols who DON’T forgive the exarch for what he did. who don’t forgive g’raha for what he did, while still having a good relationship with him

tiamat will never forgive him for what he did during 5.0, despite all else, and that’s just a thing they both have to live with. he left once, devastated her, then planned to not only leave again, but not even give her the chance at having him back before pulling a heroic suicide, managing to fuck that up and compound the upset on itself tenfold with his decisions that would have shut her out. she can’t forgive him for that bc it’s going to haunt her for a very, very long time, and no amount of apologies will undo that hurt. he knows this and it’s a regret he must simply live with.

i have a great need for more complexity with this bc there’s so much potential for rly getting into the consequences of his stunt and exploring how it would affect their trust long-term…

me n my wol who does not trust her favorite person in the world bc of the pain he inflicted on her, even if she loves him more than anything and is happy being with him. shit’s just like that sometimes

Some twitter drawings of my WoL “Highlander-kun” !!

“Oh, don’t look at me so. Aren’t you happy to see me?”

             ⚜ ⋙ the twelve ⁏ halone ( 1 / 12 )                  In the center of this heaven  rises  a  lofty                  palace of ice, made of frozen moonbeams                  and carved with the Fury’s own spear. Here                  reside epic heroes and gallant knights, the                  benevolent and the faithful. From Halone’s                  gelid palace do piercing icicles plummet to                  the Pit, creating the Hell of Ice. Here suffer                  cowards, deserters, and adulters.