thancred — mare lamentorum

day fifteen row

Thu, 15 Sep 2022 20:01:54 +0000

#ffxivwrite2022 #ffxiv #prompt #stelmaria #thancred #wolcred #stormblood #warnings

warnings: implied drug addiction ; implied sex work ; two people sacrificing themselves and not giving a shit about the long term consequences

general: me: ‘i feel like i use too many dialog tags.’ also me: ‘challenge accepted.’

verb

to propel a boat by means of oars

to transport in an oar-propelled boat

to form into rows

to engage in a quarrel

noun

an act or instance of rowing

a number of objects arranged in a usually straight line or the line along which such objects are arranged

a street or area dominated by a specific kind of enterprise or occupancy

a noisy disturbance or quarrel

“I asked for your help on this because I believed we had an understanding, but perhaps I was mistaken?”

The oars dip into the calm waters of the moat, biting clean through and leaving no ripples to disturb the moon-mirrored surface.

“You are not, though if you expected me to remain silent on the subject then perhaps you were mistaken?”

A soft splash as the oars breach the surface to greet the starry sky. Water trickles off the edge and back into the moat, tears of Menphina, shining bright.

“Thancred—”

“Stelmaria, if we lacked an understanding I most certainly would not be rowing a leaky boat to Doma Castle in the dead of night with only an expensive rug and a lingerie-clad Warrior of Light for company.”

”...Lingerie may be a tad too generous a descriptor, but then you always have been a gentleman, sweet bard.”

“A complement I shall cherish forever, I assure you.”

“Sarcasm does not become you, Thancred.”

“I beg to differ. Though the glassy-eyed stare of an addict does no favors for you, my friend, nor the trembling in your limbs and the sweat on your brow.”

“So kind of you to elaborate on my flaws. Pray, what else offends you regarding my person? Is there lip stain on my fangs? Perhaps you might offer your reassurance that one day I shall regret my tattoos?”

A long silence hangs between them, strangely heavy for containing nothing at all.

“Stelmaria, I do not wish to tell you what to do with—”

“—and yet here we are—”

“—your person. We do have an understanding. I wish only to remind you…”

Another tense silence broken only by the twittering of night birds and the muffled splash of pearlescent droplets back to their rest.

“Remind me of?”

“Remind you—gently—you are not immortal. That you are never alone in bearing the grief of fallen comrades and friends. That should you fail to return upon the morrow, many will weep for the loss of Eorzea’s greatest champion.”

“Eorzea’s greatest whore, you mean. Would you be among them, I wonder?”

The boat rocks precariously at the sudden shift of his weight. Greedy, he pulls her close, reveling in her heat, the full curves of her breasts pressed hard to his chest, the scent of the drug haze clinging to her skin and the addictive flavor of her sinful mouth. “Yes,” he replies, hoarse, finding it difficult—so difficult—to pull away.

The seconds tick by, punctuated by the rustle of silk and a deep grunt, before she retreats from him to reclaim her seat, calm and regal as a queen.

“Are you jealous?”

He ignores her question. Ilm by ilm, the boat resumes its steady glide across the water.

“If only it had not come to this,” he mutters.

“Yet it has. You and I know better than most how impossible it is to change the past, so we soldier on. Though we are just a whore and a rogue at the moment, we soldier on, doing what we must to save those we can.”

“True. The methods don’t matter, my lady.”

“Indeed, my rogue. We sink low to raise others up. We see what needs doing and we refuse to turn away from things which others deny. Dignity matters little when parting with it yields such results.”

Thunk.

“We’re here.”

“Lay out the rug. Try to keep it clean.”

He obeys, then rolls the Warrior of Light up in the carpet and hefts the lot over a broad shoulder. With one hand, he slips on the centurion’s helmet before picking his way towards the castle, swift and silent.

If all goes well, Yotsuyu goe Brutus and Zenos yae Galvus shall receive an unexpected visitor shortly.

day three temper

Sat, 03 Sep 2022 22:58:44 +0000

#ffxivwrite2022 #ffxiv #prompt #arr #thancred #wol #wolcred

warnings: hurt without comfort, guilt, regret

general: super short cause i cba, it's bulli thancred o’clock, ungendered unnamed wol

noun

heat of mind or emotion, profess to anger

a characteristic cast of mind or state of feeling

the state of a substance with respect to certain desired qualities (hardness, elasticity, or workability)

verb

to undergo aetheric corruption by a primal

to dilute, qualify, or soften by the addition or influence of something else

to make stronger and more resilient through hardship

to bring to a suitable state by mixing in or adding a usually liquid ingredient

“They're dead because you weren't there!”

It feels good to place the guilt on Thancred for a moment but the shape of his lips change, twist and tighten. He's no longer the charming bard but a man weighed down with regret.

“If you'd come when you were supposed to they wouldn't have gotten tempered! I could have fought Ifrit alone and they would still be alive!”

Both of you know this is a lie. The threads of fate are impossible to untangle and trace. None can say how Thancred's presence would have altered the course of events, or if it would have altered anything at all.

Perhaps he would be the one enthralled and put to the sword by the Brass Lanterns.

“I—” he reaches for you, hoping to say the right thing for you to forgive him. He would comfort you to the best of his ability if you allowed it. He could take you to bed and touch you, worship you, shatter you into a million pieces and put you back together before doing it all over again.

If only you would temper your anger at yourself with your affection for him.

You turn your back to him.

He stares at your back for a long moment, fingers still extended, before closing that hand into a fist and dropping it to his side.

“Forgive me,” he manages, voice tight. “I'll leave you to your rest.”

“Thancred...”

The door has closed behind him and your room is empty. The flame of your anger sputters out, leaving you cold and alone. Leaving you with new regrets of your own.