RELATIONSHIPS: Lunya/G'raha
ERA: Pre-Shadowbringers
WARNINGS: None
ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED: 09/14/19
DETAILS: Written for ffxivwrite2019. Prompt: "wax".
Most of the books in the Umbilicus were scattered in haphazard piles across the floor in towering heaps knowable only by their owner. Three in particular, though, sat not wherever whimsy or furious research deigned them to go but instead were carefully stored away in a lockbox at the far end of the room. One such book was a journal that had clearly seen more than a few decades come and go but was miraculously in good shape, either through devoted care or divine providence.
Its new owner had read it from cover to cover countless times, soaking in its words like a prayer, but there were parts of it that still remained a mystery to him: envelopes wedged between the pages, each bearing a wax seal stamped with a spinning wheel. Unsent letters, forgotten or regretted. He never dared to open them in spite of how deeply he delved into the contents of the journal itself. Something about letters meant for two sets of eyes only seemed too personal to touch, even though they were written by a woman long dead.
The one that troubled him the most held a familiar name on the envelope. One he had never expected to see, nor did he feel he deserved to. But while he had the right to open it—and he wanted to so very dearly—the seal on it remained firmly in place out of respect for its writer and, perhaps, fear over what she had to say.
“Naught else to do, then,” the Exarch sighed as he shut the chest close once again. If he were a stronger man he might have dared to read it now that decades had passed since he first found it. But he was not—and there were still so many things he needed to do before he could deem himself worthy to try. It was with that in mind that he shut the door on the Umbilicus, ready for another day of work.
Dear G’raha,
It’s only been a few days since you went to sleep. Mor Dhona is too quiet without you and these sandwiches don’t match up to yours, but I’m making do. I never got to tell you before you sealed the Tower and if I knew what you were planning, I probably wouldn’t have but I maybe, maybe started to fall for really did want you to come adventuring with me. But now that’s never going to happen. Why didn’t you talk to us? I miss you already. I hate you. You would have loved it. There’s so much of this world that you can’t understand just by reading about them in those books of yours. But there’ll be even more for you to learn in the future, won’t there? It’ll be a completely different world, with new places to go and people to meet. I wish I could be there. It’ll be an adventure of your own. You jerk.
Did I ever explain just what my relationship with the Scions is like? I’ll be heading to a banquet in Ul’dah tonight with them, but somehow I feel nervous—not because I’ll be wearing my bunny ears in front of the Sultana, thank you very much. I don’t like Ul’dah’s courts; even if it’s meant to be a celebration with the other nations, you can be sure it’ll be full of political manipulations as usual. I’m not cut out for that kind of thing anymore, but I don’t have to be. The Scions do the talking and just point me in the direction of the fighting.
It made me wonder if that’s all I’m worth to them. I know that’s not fair, because I never talked to them like I talked to you. They don’t know anything about me besides how well I can fight because I won’t let them, but I think I want to start trying, just a little bit at a time. Do you know why? A certain pigheaded Miqo’te reminded me that I’m allowed to tell stories without happy endings—that I’m not supposed to be an endless fount of hope.
You’re special to me and you should feel lucky for it, furbrain. Not many others can convince someone to open up after hiding their true thoughts for so many years as well as you did.
I still don’t know what I’m doing with this title—I don’t know if I even want it still. I guess if you're going to grandly declare that you’ll follow my exploits long after I’m gone, though, I might as well give you a show. I’m definitely going to make you regret leaving me us missing out on the best yet to come, G'raha Tia though the best was when I was with you.
You stubborn idiot. You sweet boy.
But if we never meet again, please remember me not just by the stories you hear once I’m gone. Remember me as someone who loved you deeply and couldn't say it when she needed to most as your friend. Remember the nights we spent in that stupidly small tent playing cards and mocking your textbooks together, and the pranks we played on Cid and Rammbroes, and how we ran around Lake Silvertear like we were just a couple of kids and not two adults with bigger responsibilities than a game of tag, or even that time you saved me from a gigantoad and how maybe you did look impressive while doing it. Remember to stay humble, and to stay safe, and to tell whoever wakes you up about the friends who bade you goodnight. Remember that we are still with you, always, wherever and whenever you go.
Sweet dreams, Raha.
Love, Your friend, Lunya.
