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Mar. 24th, 2021 11:13 pm
suffer [drabble #37]
Aengus's palms were bleeding.
The sky of Ala Mhigo, known for its wide-open display of glimmering stars, was coated in a sickly grey. The wailing and shouts of command rang in his ears, the cannons having halted moments before. Death and death and death. He had seen the Dragonsong War. He had been a wanted man in his homeland. Yet cradling a lurching head in his arms, he had never felt so scared.
It took every muscle in his body not to dry heave on the sands. The Elezen had to force his head down, face his fears. Do the right thing, even when it's hard. Even when you'll regret it. His eyes met half-lidded pale purple and the tears threatened his ducts. He was certain it was the ash. There was nothing to cry about. Everything was going to be fine. He just had to wait for Krile to--
"Aengus. Listen."
"No. I don't want to hear it."
"Shut the He--"
Franky turned her head to cough red across the sand. Aengus's brows shot up, instantly forgetting his unease and moving his arm to wipe the Roegadyn's face with his dingy sleeve. He'd seen her look worse, was what he convinced himself. Out of the four of them, she was always the most eager to get her hands dirty for the sake of another. He recalled the time she'd wrestled an eft to rescue a child's coeurl. She'd been victorious, as always, but they'd had to take her out back and scrub her down like a grumpy bear.
"Listen." She started again, hands pressed hard against her stomach. Aengus had already tightly tied his sash around the wound, but he was no mage. He desperately prayed that Margot was on her way with Krile.
"I don't think I'm going to make this one." She stared up at him, twisted body coming to a still. Aengus only held her head tighter, his hands small in comparison to her strong face. He scoffed.
"That's stupid. You're being stupid. You're thrice the warrior I am. You've survived worse injuries, Franky." Please laugh. Please, please, please laugh. He'd never seen her this serious and it terrified him. Franky "Cheezy" wasn't supposed to frown. She was everyone's hero, from the littlest coeurl to the most shaken Elezen.
Franky reached a messy hand to her face, prying off Aengus's fingers and stitching them between her own. Aengus desperately wanted to pull away. They were sickeningly warm and slick.
"Tell Marge she can have my room. She always whined about it, the fuzzy little shit. My clothes too, if they even fit." Franky joked with no smile. "Ivan can have my staff. He mentioned wanting to pick up the dark arts. If he gets even more insufferable I won't be there to see it anyway. Damn know-it-all." Her grip on his hand grew tighter, and he felt her heartbeat through her skin.
"And you, Aengus Prionne," she sighed lowly, "get my last words. Though I would've much rather it be Urianger." The Elezen couldn't help but chuckle, leaning in closer to get a better look at her face. "You couldn't mean that."
"You're right, I don't." She admitted. Aengus hadn't expected her to. "I'm glad it's you. Little Fussy Gussy. That's what we called you when we were still training to be Scions, you know. You didn't even know how to peel a popoto at age twenty. A real fixer-upper." She gazed up past his head to the dreary skies.
"...But you did have something we didn't. I was kind of envious, to be truthful." Franky paused to cough once more. "Hope, Aengus. Even after all this time. Blind, naive, un-bittered hope. I love you for it."
Aengus couldn't help himself. He rubbed his sleeve against his eyes frantically, trying to hide his shattering expression. This was Franky "Cheezy" Beragybal. She would never be jealous of some prissy wannabe hero in stupid pointy shoes. She'd grown up alone in the uncaring alleys of Ul'dah, snatching spare change just to get by. She'd started from the bottom of the thaumaturge guild running errands until given the chance to dazzle the mages with her unfiltered emotional power. She'd never needed anyone, and now she was desperately clinging to his hand tight enough to shatter the Elezen's frail bones.
No-one was coming.
The sky of Ala Mhigo, known for its wide-open display of glimmering stars, was coated in a sickly grey. The wailing and shouts of command rang in his ears, the cannons having halted moments before. Death and death and death. He had seen the Dragonsong War. He had been a wanted man in his homeland. Yet cradling a lurching head in his arms, he had never felt so scared.
It took every muscle in his body not to dry heave on the sands. The Elezen had to force his head down, face his fears. Do the right thing, even when it's hard. Even when you'll regret it. His eyes met half-lidded pale purple and the tears threatened his ducts. He was certain it was the ash. There was nothing to cry about. Everything was going to be fine. He just had to wait for Krile to--
"Aengus. Listen."
"No. I don't want to hear it."
"Shut the He--"
Franky turned her head to cough red across the sand. Aengus's brows shot up, instantly forgetting his unease and moving his arm to wipe the Roegadyn's face with his dingy sleeve. He'd seen her look worse, was what he convinced himself. Out of the four of them, she was always the most eager to get her hands dirty for the sake of another. He recalled the time she'd wrestled an eft to rescue a child's coeurl. She'd been victorious, as always, but they'd had to take her out back and scrub her down like a grumpy bear.
"Listen." She started again, hands pressed hard against her stomach. Aengus had already tightly tied his sash around the wound, but he was no mage. He desperately prayed that Margot was on her way with Krile.
"I don't think I'm going to make this one." She stared up at him, twisted body coming to a still. Aengus only held her head tighter, his hands small in comparison to her strong face. He scoffed.
"That's stupid. You're being stupid. You're thrice the warrior I am. You've survived worse injuries, Franky." Please laugh. Please, please, please laugh. He'd never seen her this serious and it terrified him. Franky "Cheezy" wasn't supposed to frown. She was everyone's hero, from the littlest coeurl to the most shaken Elezen.
Franky reached a messy hand to her face, prying off Aengus's fingers and stitching them between her own. Aengus desperately wanted to pull away. They were sickeningly warm and slick.
"Tell Marge she can have my room. She always whined about it, the fuzzy little shit. My clothes too, if they even fit." Franky joked with no smile. "Ivan can have my staff. He mentioned wanting to pick up the dark arts. If he gets even more insufferable I won't be there to see it anyway. Damn know-it-all." Her grip on his hand grew tighter, and he felt her heartbeat through her skin.
"And you, Aengus Prionne," she sighed lowly, "get my last words. Though I would've much rather it be Urianger." The Elezen couldn't help but chuckle, leaning in closer to get a better look at her face. "You couldn't mean that."
"You're right, I don't." She admitted. Aengus hadn't expected her to. "I'm glad it's you. Little Fussy Gussy. That's what we called you when we were still training to be Scions, you know. You didn't even know how to peel a popoto at age twenty. A real fixer-upper." She gazed up past his head to the dreary skies.
"...But you did have something we didn't. I was kind of envious, to be truthful." Franky paused to cough once more. "Hope, Aengus. Even after all this time. Blind, naive, un-bittered hope. I love you for it."
Aengus couldn't help himself. He rubbed his sleeve against his eyes frantically, trying to hide his shattering expression. This was Franky "Cheezy" Beragybal. She would never be jealous of some prissy wannabe hero in stupid pointy shoes. She'd grown up alone in the uncaring alleys of Ul'dah, snatching spare change just to get by. She'd started from the bottom of the thaumaturge guild running errands until given the chance to dazzle the mages with her unfiltered emotional power. She'd never needed anyone, and now she was desperately clinging to his hand tight enough to shatter the Elezen's frail bones.
No-one was coming.