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FFXIV Write 2023 - Prompt #21: Grave

Snow crunched under Dauvaunt's boots as he paced slowly, but deliberately along the long-familiar path through the gravestones in the churchyard. There were so many, too many, fallen in the Calamity, the war, the aftermath of both leaving the unfortunates to clog Ishgard's streets... their nation had known so much tragedy. It didn't serve him to linger on such thoughts when he came here with a purpose, he reminded himself. Putting those ruminations aside, his gaze set upon one headstone in particular as he closed in. Made out of marble, it was a simple marker. Viscountess Adorinna de Courcelle. Loving wife, devoted mother. She wouldn't have wanted anything too overdone, like some of the grander ones here boasting statuary or great deeds. Mentions of her husband and children would have been enough, as they were her entire heart in life.

Brushing off the snow that had built up atop it with one gloved hand, Dauvant stood to the side of the grave, gazing down at the stone. He'd long run out of boyish tears for her, but sorrow still etched over his face. He missed her. He'd only been fourteen summers when she'd passed giving birth to Ara, old enough to understand what had happened and young enough to rage against the unfairness of it all. He didn't hold Ara to blame. He adored his youngest sister, even when she exasperated the family with her antics. Leaning a hip against the stone, he lifted his gaze to the distant skies.

"Hello, mother," he murmured, the chill of the unfeeling stone creeping through his glove, but he didn't lift it. "I wish you were here still. I could use your advice on a number of subjects. You always knew just what to say - and the cup of warm cocoa afterwards never hurt, either." He smiled slightly without any humor to it. "Ivaurault has become ever more jealous. It's starting to cause a rift, I feel, and I am at a loss as to how to mend it. You know I was always more graceful with a sword than I was with my words. I miss the times when we were just boys, playing with wooden weapons, laughing and playing without a care in the world. Would that we could go back to that relationship but I fear it shall never be that way between us again." He shook his head and moved on to the next sibling. "Osmont's returned to us. With all of his limbs intact, even. I remember teasing him about returning with a peg leg and an eyepatch when he first ran off to the sea. He nearly married a mermaid - a sea lion, I believe, in truth. You should see Ara's painting of the creature. It is certainly something to behold, but of course Father's hung it up in the gallery with all the rest of them. Uly is... as odd as he ever was, but well-meaning. He's to make a good-luck charm for Ara's debut soon. I look forward with morbid curiosity what it's to be this time. Merle is... Merle. He and a few of us took Father to a club recently to try to find him a companion. It's been long enough and I know you wouldn't want him to be lonely forever. You are ever foremost in his heart, though. You always will be, you know. Sophi scandalized the lot of us by showing up to the club, determined to root out who took her weights. Tis a mystery gone unsolved, I'm afraid. Euphrasie is still with us, thank the Fury. Ill even as she is, her antics rival Ara's occasionally. I cannot say that I blame her. If I knew I was to die young, I would want to live as vociferously as I could as well. Violetta is well. Still coming into her own as a Lady now, I think, but she'll get there. I have faith in her. As for Ara..." He sighed quietly. "She's chopped her hair off and pierced her nose. Doing everything she can to put off or rebel against her coming debut. I think it frightens her, but I cannot be certain and she would never admit to it. She's yet to grow into her ears yet and she's still so small... One wonders if she is destined to remain that way, poor thing." Dauvant paused, looking to the sky as a light snow began to fall. It was no surprise, they were common enough. His hand was nearly frozen stiff and aching by now as it rested upon the gravestone and yet still, he refused to lift it and break the only contact he had with her.

"Father is applying ever more pressure for me to marry. I am trying, but... in my heart, I yearn for a love match such as you and father were lucky enough to have. I'm... lonely. Funny thing, in a house with nine siblings, but... I feel set apart from them. There's a barrier spelled h-e-i-r, and try as hard as I might to tear it down, the older we all get, the more solidified it becomes. I suppose it's just the way of things, but it makes me... sad. Would that I could have your council, mother. The cocoa I'm old enough to get for myself now, should I need it, but it's not the same." Kneeling in the snow, he set down the bucket he'd carried in his other hand, with the scrub-brush inside of it. Reaching in to grasp it, he began the task of cleaning the accumulated dust and dirt from the surface, scrubbing away at it until it was pristine again, practically sparkling in the late afternoon sun. Leaning his forehead against the cold, unfeeling stone for a moment, he was surprised to feel tears prickling at his eyes. Perhaps he wasn't too old to cry for his mother after all. Clearing his throat and wiping them away on his sleeve, he stood tall again, taking up the bucket. "I'll visit again soon. Find your rest in the Fury's halls, mother. I love you, now and ever." With that, he turned and trudged from the churchyard, leaving behind the newly cleaned headstone, his heart heavier somehow than when he'd arrived. Perhaps a cup of warm cocoa with warm the stony pit in his belly, but somehow, he doubted it.

Ugh I've fallen so far behind in the FFXIV Writes x.x Oh, depression, how do I love thee.... /s

Another Apology

A small, flat wooden box appears on the floor outside of Ivaurault's room sometime during the evening. Upon being opened, the rich, sweet scent of ten expensive, Ul'dahn Cohiba Behike cigars would greet the nose, topped by a small white card. It reads the following:

Ivaurault,

My apologies for omitting your title in my haste to get introductions out last night. I flubbed it in a spectacular fashion and I'm sorry. I hope this makes up for it.

With love,

Dove

(@roses-and-grimoires)

A Letter of Apology

(A letter is delivered by courier to the Priarch house, addressed to Rainimont Griseaux. The courier wears colors of red and black, with a fenrir patch upon his lapel, the colors and sigil of House Courcelle. The letter itself is upon heavy, expensive vellum, sealed with the selfsame sigil in crimson wax. It is accompanied by a wooden box, which upon being opened, reveals a bottle of Château Lafite Rothschild, a rare and expensive red wine.) Viscount Griseaux,

It is only upon addressing this very letter to you did I finally key in to how I may have offended you last eve. I had been pondering the matter since I departed and for the life of me, I could not imagine what I had done. In my harried haste to get all the introductions out in a timely fashion, I realize that I had omitted your proper title, for which I sincerely apologize. You are a valued friend of my family and I would hate for there to be any ill will between us. Please accept this gift as a token of my regret and a pledge to do better next time.

Yours Truly,

Dauvaunt de Courcelle

(@zoetic-tome)

FFXIV Write 2023 - Prompt #13: Check

"We'll have the check, please."

Ruu jerked her head up and stared in bewilderment at her dining companion. The words had been said with exasperation to the waitress who had come by to see how they were enjoying their meal. They weren't even through the second course, yet! - and here he was, requesting the check? "Is there- Did I offend you in some way?" she ventured hesitantly. She knew she was out of her depth here at the Bismarck, one of the more upscale, swanky restaurants in La Noscea, but... she couldn't have embarrassed him that badly.

Her client gave her a withering look. "Yes. Your manners are atrocious. You don't even know a soup spoon from a-" He held up a hand. "It doesn't matter. I bought you for the evening. We'll go back to my estate and you can satisfy me in - clearly - the only way you are good for, and that will be that."

Stunned at the cruel words, Ruu yanked the cloth napkin from her lap and threw it on the table, rising. Shaking with humiliation and fury, and struggling to hold back tears, she straightened her shoulders. "I won't be going anywhere with you," she spat venomously. Tossing the gil pouch on the table that had been given to her earlier, she stalked away, the folds of her pretty dress swishing softly around her.

Only when she was around the corner did she finally give in to the tears, hiding her face in her hands, his cruel words echoing in her ears.