How Long Has It Been Dwelling Within This Artifact?

Eh I haven't them here yet? Here's my Eorzea mermaids! My dear Ysayle and Nanamo ♥ Prints available on shinjyu.storenvy.com

nyaa

FINAL FANTASY: XIV SCENERY ➸ [1/?]

Upper La Noscea - Fool Falls.

Winter's Toil

The Lord Speaker of the house of Lords is working far into the night once more. But even though he still has a good many things to do, he cannot help himself but think about those he loves.

Read on AO3.

Winter's Toil

Five pages of report written in small, almost unreadable letters. Ten pages of the days minutes. Construction plans for the extension of Falcons Nest. A request for ishgardian craftsmen to support the renaturation of the coast of Werlyt.

His right wrist ached. Nothing new.

Signed. Corrected. Approved.

So far so good. Except for the strain in his shoulders. Nothing he had not experienced before. Sword practice could do this to a man, if practiced excessively. When had he last held a sword again?

The work he couldn’t finish at his office was finally done. A glance towards the clock told him it was about ten minutes before midnight. A second glance towards the left of his desk told him that there were at least two hours more of intensive reading, pondering, approving and rejecting.

Why was there sweat on his face?

He leaned back in his chair. There was a deep sigh somewhere in his chest, but he wouldn’t. Instead he reached for the next stack of papers. The muscles in his neck protested.

It would be another long night.

The next document was the appointment of the guards to Empyreon. Yes. He had asked Estinien to apply. A joke of course. And regrettably, the dragoon and newfound hero of the world had ignored the offer entirely. Unsurprising. But yet again, regrettably. Though, this was probably Estiniens polite way to say no.

It would have been nice to have him back in Ishgard. With Lucia in charge of the camp broken glass he felt perhaps the tiniest bit lonely. If it hadn’t been for his old burly cat and the steward, he would actually be lonely.

And with that his thoughts drifted back to her.It had been a while since they had talked to each other. Having her support in that last crisis had been a blessing. Her presence was always all too welcome. And before that..? When had she last visited… The construction of Empyreon perhaps. Oh… if he only could have watched her. From what he had heard, she had been working through even the most daunting of tasks with perseverance and a smile on her lips.

Her smile.

The simple thought of it brought one to his exhausted features, too. When she returned, he would need to ask her about her latest travels. But mostly about her journey to the stars and far beyond.

But for this moment it was high time he chose a few lucky souls to serve the people of Ishgard. The candle closest to him light the paper. The letters though were almost unrecognizable. Had the other documents been written with the lines so close to one another?

His feather dropped to the ground the moment he let go of the paper. And everything went black.

A pair of cold hands on his face. Dampened voices, as if someone was talking into a pillow. Another pair of hands.

And darkness again.

When Aymeric opened his eyes, he no longer sat at his desk. Someone had gotten him upstairs and partially undressed. Some embers still light the otherwise dark room. It took him a moment to realise he was in his bed.

He groaned and tried to shift to his side, but couldn’t. There was someone else. A rather warm someone. A someone with those hands-

“Go back to sleep,” her voice was nothing but a whisper, “it’s not morning yet.”

“You are back … since when-“

“Only a few hours ago. I found you sleeping at your desk again.”

“Right…” he rolled onto his back. There was still work to be done. He could sleep some more but if he were to wake up in a couple hours, he could finish everything and still be in time for the session.

The last thought sent a throbbing pain through the back of his head.

“Stay.” She was calm, but firm. “You have a slight fever and I already had your steward sent word to the house that you will not be available for a few days.” The woman playing his conscience rolled over to hug him around the waist.

“And if not for yourself, please stay here for me, yes? We could sleep some more and then catch up at breakfast.” She gently kissed his chin. “There are so many things I would tell you.”

The battle was over before Aymeric knew it. He had her wrapped in his arms only a second later to bestow a kiss of his own onto her hair.

“Thank you, love.”

“Always.”

VERENDAEL, Nicolaes van (1640-1691)

A still life of flowers, details oil on canvas, 50 × 38 cm Ed. Orig. (Ed. Lic.: CC0 1.0)

Raha

Anne Elizabeth Sobieski aka Anne-Elizabeth Sobieski (American, b. 1971, Los Angeles, CA, USA) - Single Twilight, 2005, Paintings: Oil on Canvas

“Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red.”

— Kait Rokowski (via zeychka)

Morning Star by Federico Ferro.

having ocs is so fun tho. It’s like playing with barbie dolls except we’re hallucinating it all vividly in our heads and everybody is emotionally scarred