shadowbringers spoilers galore.

[exarchal]

Strange purple trees. A towering blue crystal spire. And a thriving community of people who have built additions to this tower, lived and loved and died to protect the beacon of hope for their world.

The ancients' wish has come true.

Welcome to the Crystarium.





[Here's an open post for all your spoilery ffxiv needs. Thread and cry as much as you need 👀]

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[exarchal]

[He's certainly seen better days, though he's recovering apace, all things considered. But today, perhaps, he might be getting an unexpected visitor...

One may find him reading something at the Cabinet, or strolling through the grassy area around the Pendants, or perhaps even exchanging a word with the guard. Everything appears to be normal-- though he's visiting his people with a great deal more zeal than usual.]

[thaumewturge]

[The last however long has been brutal on Rhel, but not nearly as brutal as it has been on poor G'raha.

And yes, she will continue to call him by his name in private unless he tells her otherwise. It's never fun to have your name forgotten for a title. Also the little face he makes when she calls him by it is adorable and she can't pass that up.

Rhel is asleep on a sofa in the Cabinet, because of course she is. There are so many wonderful books she'll never get to see located here, and now that the world's saved why would she ever be anywhere else? Too bad not even the Warrior of Darkness can resist the urge to nap in a sunbeam, though.]

[exarchal]

[The last thing he's expecting is to find the Warrior of Light napping here, but then again, maybe he shouldn't be surprised at all. He casts a glance around for Moren or one of the other library-dwellers but somehow, for some reason, they've all made themselves scarce. Hmm. Maybe they're having lunch?

Still, he can't simply leave her unattended...

He disappears regardless, but only for a few moments. When he returns it's with softer steps and a softer blanket in his arms. With utmost gentleness, he lays it over Rhel and tucks her in around the edges.]

[thaumewturge]

Mm...

[Look, she's exhausted and the sofa was comfy. But being tucked in is enough to jerk her out of her sleep a little and she snuffles, frowning.]

Not now, Feo Ul...

[exarchal]

[Feo Ul? Maybe it's because they both have red hair? No, she's definitely out of it. The comparison earns a soft chuckle, which he tries to muffle behind his hand. He ought to leave her alone and get some work done. She's safe here.

... He'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious, however. He glances at the books around the couch to see what she was reading, or at least interested in reading, before she passed out.]

[thaumewturge]

[The pixie is worse at mothering than her own mother, alright.

He'll find books on every topic available, or close to it. Mystel history and cultures from before and after the Flood, faerie tales, a novel wherein the author tries to come up with a story for the Crystal Tower, a manual on how to use your tomestone to communicate, stories of the "ancients", and half the section on thaumaturgy in the First as well as a notebook filled with what is probably arcane gibberish if you're not a black mage or aetherologist. (And possibly even if you are.)

The books are all balanced precariously around the sofa, as if a stiff breeze or errant tail is all it'll take to destroy the entire pile.]

[exarchal]

[That's quite a selection of titles, and most of them he's read himself. He got a kick out of the one trying to explain the origins of the Crystal Tower, as it was fanciful and entertaining even if nowhere close to the truth. Sometimes he liked the revised history better. However, as he's reaching for that last notebook-- he doesn't recognize it-- his wrist bumps one of the other books and sends it wobbling precariously.

He manages to catch it with his other hand, but then one of the other parts of the pile wobbles. So his arm crosses over his other arm to steady that one... And then, of course, there's a third wobble, because this is fucking Jenga in the First, and he has to stick out his leg to balance that one.

He breathes a sigh of relief as he avoids utter catastrophe. It would be pretty funny if Rhel opened her eyes and saw him doing an impression of ancient Sil'dih murals as he tries to keep the books from falling. But as long as everything's okay, then--

Of course, just as he's about to call it good, a loose pet darts through the room and knocks over the rest of the books before scurrying right back out. By some miracle none of the tomes land on the couch or its sleeper, but the Exarch is now on the floor, half-buried in them.

He holds his breath. Maybe she slept through that too.]

[thaumewturge]

[Nope. The chaos startles her awake and she starts swearing in...Miqo'te huntspeak, which of course startles the errant pet, which then of course darts out of the room and by the time Rhel has remembered where she is, grabbed her glasses, and looked around the poor Exarch is buried under more books.

She just sorta blinks down at him.]

Uh. Did I...I missed something and I'm afraid to ask what.

[exarchal]

[Of course it was too much to ask not to have his ass absolutely whooped by books of all things, but here he is, laying in books. Drowning in them. He manages to wrench one hand loose, sending a book of fairy tales tumbling to the floor. He can't see her over all these books but maybe she can see his hand.]

I am not entirely sure what happened either, but it appears I've been... er, entomed. [Bards and their puns.] But no matter! I'll free myself shortly, just-- [He inhales sharply. Okay, so he's not as recovered as he'd like to pretend, but it's not his fault that the books are putting pressure on every coercive injury he suffered at the hand of a certain Ascian.] -- I only need a moment. You need not concern yourself, or exert yourself.

[thaumewturge]

[That pun gets the dirtiest of looks, not that he can see it right now.]

Uh-huh. And in a moment when you need my help...?

[exarchal]

[This is embarrassing. He's glad she can't see his face because he is so, so red right now. He shouldn't be failing this hard in front of her, and yet... this is his lot in life right now. In response to her sass, he tries to free himself as promised. However, this only makes a couple more piles of books fall over onto him, and he collapses back against the floor with a painful wheeze.]

All right! All right, [he manages.] I-- I concede there was some... miscalculation on my part.

[thaumewturge]

You knocked them over and tried to stop the pile from falling, only to fail in a most spectacular fashion, didn't you?

[Yeah, she's going to sit up and start saving the Crystal Klutz from himself.]

I thought bards were light on their feet.

[dreadspawn]

[ Rest is something they both sorely need though neither are likely, or in Meara's case want, to get. The burden they carry is great; his the Crystal Tower itself and the people of the Crystarium, hers the fate of the worlds. Though she has never been one for idleness, even in the most peaceful of times she would busy her hands with one thing or another. Much to the chagrin of all those who would see Warrior of Light rest after she has been through.

Although there are times when she finds herself at a loss, when her own determination is outmatched by those around her and she is forced to concede. A difficult defeat to take but one she does so gracefully. Thus leading Meara to her spot amongst the grassy area of the Pendants, far from any sort of work that needs to be done. Resting.

It isn't the worst fate imaginable, in fact the spot in the grass is quiet comfortable. The grass soft, the sun warm, she had forgone her boots for the moment just to feel the grass between her toes. It's nice. Quiet, unbearably so, but nice.

She is moments away from calling Feo Ul (for company perhaps, though she quickly remembers that may not be the best of ideas) when she spies her wandering nearby. He looks a lot better now, not so many marks scarring what little skin is left to him. There is a pep in his step that brings a grin to her lips, distracting her from her current sufferings a little. But then, if she must suffer idle hands and rest, shouldn't he? ]

Shouldn't you be resting? [ Hello Exarch, she is maybe just a little bored. ]

[exarchal]

Ah!

[He'd been so preoccupied with his thoughts (chores, lists, who to talk to and who to arrange things for) that he hadn't seen the Warrior of Light taking a dappled sunbath in the grass. Her greeting is warm, even with the teasing, and it isn't a moment after that he returns it with a crinkle of his red eyes.]

How is it that when I walk around, I'm accosted by do-wells, but when you stroll out of the Pendants unaccompanied there isn't so much as a peep of disagreement?

[He rests a hand on his hip, the other on his staff.]

Whatever spell you are weaving, I shall endeavor to learn from your example. But to answer your question: I am getting some fresh air. Even a scholar could grow tired of the smell of books after a long century or two.

[dreadspawn]

Because I have already been defeated by those same do-wells and been banished to this land of idleness and rest.

[ A tragedy truly, though she cannot deny that they may have been right in their insistence of rest and fresh air. Boredom aside she has not felt so relaxed in weeks. Gods, she may never be ready for the "I told you so" looks she is sure to get from Katliss and the others. ]

Then you ought join me. [ Meara pats the sun-warmed spot beside her. ] No one should accost you further if you sit with me.

[exarchal]

[He's surprised at the invitation, eyebrows raised, but then that gives way to a soft sort of smile. He shifts his robes around a bit and sits beside her, laying his staff by his feet. It wasn't too long ago that he had invited her to do the same, though that location was less serene than the scene before them now.

Funny how the tint of the world changes when you've put off your own death plans.]

How are you faring?

[dreadspawn]

[ Funny that he might think she wouldn't invite him, or even delight in his company. Once, perhaps, she may have hesitated. Back when he shrouded himself in secrets and mysteries, but now? Now she feels determined to make up for lost time, for all that he had missed during his long sleep.

She stretches out a little as he sits down beside her, wiggling her toes a little in the sunlight. It's those she focuses on when he asks his question, a question that gives her a moment of pause, before a soft smile takes her lips. ]

Tired. [ She admits, lifting a hand up towards her face. No flash of brilliant white. ] But whole. What about you? Your wounds look as though they have healed nicely.

[exarchal]

[It would be nice to walk with her again, to run through the ruins of this tower together as they had once before. For now, he supposes he can settle with this. It is, after all, far more than he thought he'd ever have. His eyes settle upon her as they have so many times: quiet, watchful, and undeniably warm without the hood to obscure them. He's a little more cavalier about that these days now that the danger has mainly passed.]

I can say much the same, though your resilience never ceases to amaze. There are some... lingering wounds still giving me mischief at times, but I could not suffer to lay about one more minute in my chambers. [His gaze drifts across the quad.] I wanted to see to them—to my people.

[They are his people, there is no denying that, yet a part of him still couldn't quite believe what this foray into the First had become.]

[dreadspawn]

[ Maybe later when scrapes have healed and bruises mended, they can run through the ruins of the tower. An adventure away from daily troubles and responsibilities. She had heard there had been monsters sighted within the tower recently, fierce guardians stopping the researches from getting further inside. They could look into it together, clear the path for the researches, and prevent anything that still resides in there from endangering the people outside.

It could be fun.

Lowering her hand Meara turns to meet his gaze; lips pressed together in that smile, her own gaze warm and undeniably fond. ]

It must be my Xaela blood, they are a resilient people to live how they do. [ It is more than just that, of course, sometimes she thinks that Hydaelyn granted her abnormal resilience with Her blessing. Or it could just be that Meara is simply that stubborn of a person. ] You escaped your sick bed much like I did. A dangerous thing to do should the wrong person see you about.

[ She thinks few would force him back to his chambers, however. ]

They are glad to see you about. I don't think I have seem so many smiles since we returned from the Tempest.

[exarchal]

[Something about the look she gives him makes his breath catch in his throat, as it often does, and he glances away lest he stammer over what he's about to say next.]

Perhaps. Or perhaps it arose more recently, like pressure creates a diamond. You have had no shortage of trials since your adventure began, I'd wager.

[And he'd win, because he knows way too much about what she went through after he closed the gates.]

I have no doubt that a certain nurse would have me bound and gagged if necessary, but I have slept far too long already.

[His smile brightens just enough to be noticeable. He didn't think he had anything to do with it, so that part is surprising.]

Are they? ... [He considers this a moment.] I see... I am full glad to see them in such high spirits. These people deserve the world—their world—and you have delivered it into their hands once again.

There are no words to express their gratitude, nor mine. I only hope you are able to see what they make of this new old world when it flourishes once again.

[dreadspawn]

[ She struggles to keep herself from laughing, tilting her head to keep a good look at his face. Is it terrible how much she enjoys watching him fluster? It brings her no end of amusement and a warmth that sits nicely in the center of her chest. ]

Maybe, but I won't be taking that wager of yours. My pockets are empty enough as is.

[ Not to mention that it would be an entirely unfair wager. ]

We best avoid her then, else we both suffer the same fate.

[ Though a part of her would be very tickled if G'raha were to fall into Chessamile's hands. A fact better kept to herself, she quickly decides. ]

Of course they are. [ She breathes out. ] You're as much responsible for all of this as I am. Besides you are their leader, you gave them a home and a goal to strive towards.

[ A hand comes up, brushing strands of dark hair from her eyes, bright and brilliant gold. ]

I would like to visit as much as possible, to see what they make of it. [ A pause. ] And to see you.

[exarchal]

[Terrible. She's terrible. But when he's flustered, he looks that much younger. Not that he appears to have aged at all, really...]

I suppose adventuring does not pay the piper like it used to.

[It's totally unfair, though, he'll give her that.]

They practically built the Crystarium around me. All I provided was... a place to begin. [He's being humble, but it's clear he does it not to be self-effacing but because he is truly amazed by his people. He's distracted momentarily by her motion, the way she flicks dark hair out of eyes like stars. It's distracting when the stars are out here and not in the sky, or in the Ocular...

Here's no hiding the way his ears perk at her offer. Maybe he should put the hood back on after all.]

Of course you may visit whenever you like, and stay however long you desire. But-- [His lip curls in a wry sort of way.] -- am I to be your entertainment now?

[To think, once she was his.]

[dreadspawn]

That was the most important part.

[ He needn't be so humble, it may have been a simple thing to give the people of the First a place to begin but they will never forget it. To them it will forever be a gesture grander than few else. She knows because she feels the very same about Ishgard, about the Fortemps who opened their home and their arms to her when she had no where else to go.

Her smile grows at the way his ears perk, betraying him with a single movement. It's nice that he has forgone his hood, it makes reading him so much easier. And she can delight in his reactions that much more. ]

Maybe, just a little. [ Meara tilts her head a little. ] I do enjoy your company quite a lot, is that so bad?

[sedge_flower]

[This particular visitor's approach will likely be heard before she even comes into view, running footsteps tap-tap-tapping all the way to the door before she bursts into the Cabinet, looking for all the world as if the next Calamity had either happened or was on the brink of occurring.]

I almost forgot!

[As if that exclamation somehow explained... well, anything.]

Where is it?

[Lacking in explanation though it may be, it's clear that whatever she came here for is Very Serious and thus should be treated with the appropriate gravity.

... it would help if she gave even the slightest hint as to what she was referring to, however. The ball is in the Exarch's court now and he probably doesn't even know what game they're supposed to be playing.]

[exarchal]

[The Exarch looks up from where he'd been rifling through some tomes on pre-Flood history with something of a start.]

Luna? [He smiles, but it quickly fades when he notices her panic.] 'Tis good to see you back so soon, yet I fear this is not a leisure visit. What has you so troubled? Tell me and I shall see if there is aught the Crystarium could do.

[He has absolutely no idea what game she's playing, none whatsoever.]

What is it you seek? I can-- [Is it her equipment? Mayhap some kind of aetheryte crystal? Now he's starting to worry, too.] I shall have the guards look for it on the patrols, mayhap to sweep the borders and the roads--

[HOOK, LINE, AND SINKER.]