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Title: prevention
Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV
Prompt: 054. prevention
Pairing: Aymeric/Durae (WoL)/Estinien
Words: 330 words
prevention
Each day brings with it new trials, Durae finds. Ever since he picked up the crystal in the Twelveswood and met the Scions, it’s been nothing but one new trial after another. Not that he truly minds, because he’s seen much more of Eorzea than he ever could have dreamed he would when he first left home.
It’s to prevent another primal from being raised that brings them to Coerthas.
Durae has never been to Coerthas before, but he decides that it’s likely his least favourite place in Eorzea very quickly. Neither he nor Alphinaud are dressed for the bitterly cutting winds or blowing snow, their attire better suited for the far more mild climes of Gridania and heat of Ul’dah.
He’s wrapped his arms around himself, trying vainly to ward off the constant chill when he notices it.
His threads are darker, much more solid, and have lost their translucent quality. One of them is bright red, the colour of the lanterns he vaguely remembers when he was a young child, while the other is a deeper, richer red – like spilled blood.
He nearly stops in his tracks. Never, not in all of his travels, have his threads changed in their colouration.
But here, in this frigid wasteland, they light up.
His soulmates are close.
Even though he’s seven and twenty now, Durae has never given up hope that he will one day find them. It’s a small, little hope of his that he’s nursed all these years – ever since Sechen’s death and the loneliness still cuts him deeply – that one day he would find them.
These aren’t the circumstances he imagined, however.
He’d been hoping for something a little more… peaceful. Where the fate of nations aren’t resting ominously on his shoulders. When there aren’t so many unanswered questions and worries about what has happened to the Scions.
And certainly not when he’s certain he might be about to lose all feeling in his extremities.
Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV
Prompt: 054. prevention
Pairing: Aymeric/Durae (WoL)/Estinien
Words: 330 words
Each day brings with it new trials, Durae finds. Ever since he picked up the crystal in the Twelveswood and met the Scions, it’s been nothing but one new trial after another. Not that he truly minds, because he’s seen much more of Eorzea than he ever could have dreamed he would when he first left home.
It’s to prevent another primal from being raised that brings them to Coerthas.
Durae has never been to Coerthas before, but he decides that it’s likely his least favourite place in Eorzea very quickly. Neither he nor Alphinaud are dressed for the bitterly cutting winds or blowing snow, their attire better suited for the far more mild climes of Gridania and heat of Ul’dah.
He’s wrapped his arms around himself, trying vainly to ward off the constant chill when he notices it.
His threads are darker, much more solid, and have lost their translucent quality. One of them is bright red, the colour of the lanterns he vaguely remembers when he was a young child, while the other is a deeper, richer red – like spilled blood.
He nearly stops in his tracks. Never, not in all of his travels, have his threads changed in their colouration.
But here, in this frigid wasteland, they light up.
His soulmates are close.
Even though he’s seven and twenty now, Durae has never given up hope that he will one day find them. It’s a small, little hope of his that he’s nursed all these years – ever since Sechen’s death and the loneliness still cuts him deeply – that one day he would find them.
These aren’t the circumstances he imagined, however.
He’d been hoping for something a little more… peaceful. Where the fate of nations aren’t resting ominously on his shoulders. When there aren’t so many unanswered questions and worries about what has happened to the Scions.
And certainly not when he’s certain he might be about to lose all feeling in his extremities.