RELATIONSHIPS: Lunya/G'raha
ERA: The 7th Astral Era - Crystal Tower quests
WARNINGS: None
ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED: 09/02/20
DETAILS: Written for ffxivwrite2020. Prompt: "sway".
Often when he found her dancing, it was to an old tune that stuttered every other note, her tiny orchestrion fumbling over the worn music roll she'd plucked from a merchant's dusty crate for just ten gil over a dozen suns ago. He could never make heads or tails of the lyrics himself, but he knew she had her mother's old lullabies passed from daughter to daughter to daughter—a legacy she told him she didn't know how to bear or add to herself—and the Echo: a blessing she never really wanted.
"We're really testing the limits of this scaffolding," he dared to pipe up when he climbed high enough to comfortably rest his upper half and elbows on the scaffolding, tail still casually swaying to and fro in the air as he balanced upon the rickety ladder. "Lunya, I'm afraid even I am not normally so bold as to climb this high after a round of drinks."
There came no answer, so caught up in her art as she was. She moved like she was born of the sea and the waves sang in her veins, graceful and fluid in every measure. To an outsider, perhaps, each step would look perfect: but he knew as well as she did that there was a slight sway to her movements, the sweetness of that night's wine seeped into her bones, staining a lovely flush warm against her cheeks.
"I only drank enough to feel buzzed, but Reese doesn't want me practicing down by the lake," Lunya finally said as the orchestrion murmured into silence, the words gusting out with the force of a storm as she exhaled, looking at him. Her eyes glowed beneath Mor Dhona's twilight, just as violet and thrice as clear, slivers of pink and azure facets gleaming through as she smiled in greeting, the very thin tendrils of the start of inebriation softening her expression even more. "I thought you were already asleep, Raha."
G'raha clambered up onto the platform, careful not to kick the ladder back—for all the tales she'd told him of «balefire»'s chaotic rampages across Eorzea, he was certain she wouldn't want to add "got trapped on some scaffolding with a colleague, both wearing pyjamas in the dead of night while most of the camp was drunk in their cups" to her collection—and looked her over now that she was standing still.
She seemed fine, outside of the fact that he knew she'd been drinking. Much like the robe he'd grown accustomed to seeing her in, ridiculous rabbit ears and all, the tunic she chose to sleep in was pure white. She was a vision of stardust, swathed in the light of the full moon above them, and he thought it was a shame he was born a Seeker of the Sun when each moment he got to spend with Lunya inclined him more to keeping the moon.
"Nazyl Duzyl started singing," he groaned instead of verbalizing such flowery thoughts. "Though I imagine it better to call it caterwauling. You still should not be up here, imp. One slip and you'd fall right off."
"You came up too, brat," she pointed out, the corner of her mouth twitching into a smirk as he pouted at her. "But if I have the honor of being fretted over by you I suppose I'll have to restrain myself next time."
Fretted over. He could have snorted, knowing damn well that he had all but flew from his bedroll when he awoke without his tentmate sleeping soundly nearby, tipsily flinging his shoes on without the leg guards so he could search for her. It would be wrong to say he was very good with spirits, but he knew that impulsive surge wasn't entirely from the drinks.
"Well, while I'm up here," he said as cheerily as he could, sweeping into a low, pretentious bow, "may I have a dance?"
Up went one snowy eyebrow. "Didn't you just point out that I could slip and fall off the scaffold? Would this not increase our odds of dying a horrible death?" Even so, she rewound the orchestrion roll and offered a hand to him, biting her lip with an uncharacteristic tinge of embarrassment as he took it.
G'raha placed his free hand over his heart. "It would be an honor to die with you, Lady Warrior," he promised her, ears wiggling mirthfully as she leveled a glare at him. "Though I know neither of us could find a grave so easily while we have so much to do."
Lunya mumbled something—doubtlessly not real words since he would have heard what they were, but he was certain she was thinking stupid cat.
"This will be the least coordinated thing you'll ever see me do," she warned him as the music kicked in once more, luminous eyes flashing up to him. "You're twice my height and I can't even teach you the steps."
"I'm sure." He laughed as he took a step closer, emboldened—by what, the drinks? His affection for her? The fear that had been looming over him for some time now that he'd miss his chance? "Thank you for the opportunity, my dearest friend."
He didn't know the song and couldn't understand the lyrics, but as they swayed back and forth, hand in hand in a loose, unbalanced, sloppy rendition of one of her perfected moves, he felt he may be closer to her heart now than ever before. Lunya hummed along with the singer, the closest he'd ever heard to her singing, and they both laughed when he improvised a twirl into their faux dance routine. The way the moon cast light over Mor Dhona was beautiful, and she seemed right at home in their dance beneath the stars.
"Whoops!"
Lunya heard his grin before her eyes found it as she fell backwards. When she looked up, G'raha's face was close to her own, beaming mischievously right at her while he was knelt down and holding her in a ridiculous-looking dip, his tail bracing the back of her knees.
"Very bold. That was not an accident, Raha," she scolded only half-heartedly, reaching up to pinch the cheeky smile off his face but only fueling the fire. He wondered if the excited pound of his heartbeat in his throat echoed in her own. "Would you mind letting me stand?"
"I do mind, in fact." He hid his grin in her hair as he stood and took her with him, cradling her in his arms and shaking with laughter as Lunya thumped her small fist against his chest once, twice, before she sulkily gave up, slumping against his shoulder with a tiny noise of discontent. "As enchanting as this night has been, it's far past the Warrior of Light's bedtime. Luckily for you, I happen to have one ticket for a G'raha Tia cart back to her tent."
"Shuddup, cat," she mumbled, waving a hand in the direction of her orchestrion. He scooped it up for her, placing it carefully on her lap so she could turn it off and keep it close before he began their incredibly precarious descent back down the ladder.
The camp was still quiet, the remnants of their drinking party still evident in the abandoned assortment of cups around the Find. A few of the Sons were scattered in sight, most of them snoring away on any solid surface they could find, and others still nursing a drink to the side, singing quietly to themselves.
A lone Miqo'te kept vigil at the fire and his ears perked up as G'raha approached. Tehra'ir raised an eyebrow at the sight of them, clearly wanting to ask about Lunya's presence in his arms, but all he did was nod to him: a silent acknowledgement that G'raha hadn't died trying to retrieve their wayward Lalafell and neither of them were in immediate need of medical assistance, nor did he need to get Zaya to kick his rear for doing something untoward.
Waving him goodnight, G'raha turned to follow the path back to his and Lunya's shared tent. She was already half asleep when he pulled open the flap, though she blinked blearily at him setting her down on her bedroll, wiggling both her orchestrion out of her hands and her boots off her feet.
"Sweet dreams, Lu, and thank you for the dance," he told her fondly, turning to his bed. A small tug at the back of his shirt had him looking back to her as she sat up on her knees, rubbing at her eyes.
"Raha," he heard Lunya say sleepily before she leaned forward and pressed a warm kiss to the corner of his lips, sending a shocked spark soaring through him, a frazzled flutter that left him wide-eyed and wanting. The saccharine scent of wine flooded his nose as she pulled away, sinking back down into her blankets, sleep coming back to abduct her before he could even properly respond. "G'night."
"...Goodnight," he whispered, knowing she wouldn't hear him. Laughing to himself and his face impossibly warm, far more heated than the sweet wine had made him feel, G'raha Tia removed his shoes and crawled back into his own bed, heart askew.
