Ficlet: Validation
Dec. 4th, 2018 07:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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finalfantasyxivfanworksTitle: Validation
Characters: Warrior of Light/Aymeric de Borel, Original Characters
Rating: T
Warnings: Anxiety, implied past trauma
Aymeric was beginning to wonder if bringing Aza was a mistake.
He was obviously tense, jittery and unhappy, though he covered it up admirably by throwing on an incredible poker face that had fooled him for the first hour into his schmoozing. But, it wasn’t as if Aymeric could bring it to attention currently – surrounded by a gaggle of interested Kuganites socialites and political elite, in the middle of a ‘diplomatic function’ in Kugane.
He knew Aza hated these. He knew it. Yet Aza had assured him that it would be fine, that he’d prefer to be with him as, as well as being famous for their wild parties hidden under the guise of politicking, they were also famous for being prime spots for assassinations. Aymeric already had enough knives sticking into him where they had no business being, so he had buried his misgivings and let Aza accompany him into the glitzy social life of Kugane’s political elite.
It was probably a mistake to.
Aymeric kept half his attention on their group’s chatter – a very well-dressed Kuganite Hyur, with a pompous attitude that would make a High House noble in Ishgard proud, was regaling everyone on how he was building a merchant empire on perfumes or something – and the rest of his attention on Aza’s tense form beside him.
His partner was staring fixedly ahead into the middle distance, clearly not listening to a word the perfume merchant was saying, his grip alarmingly tight around his wine glass. He could almost hear the delicate stem crunching in half with how white his knuckles were. His other hand kept twitching at his belt, where Aymeric knew Aza had hidden a knife under the formal clothing he had willingly donned (as armour and being openly armed was a very big no at these things, especially as everyone inevitably got drunk and was within arm’s reach of at least one mortal enemy). His expression was eerie blank, though, showing not a single flicker of emotion despite the tension all but radiating off him.
It made Aza look like he was carved from marble. Aymeric felt uneasy.
“-so, it would be incredibly beneficial indeed to try and, ah, break into, the perfume market in Eorzea,” Perfume Merchant was rambling, oblivious to Aymeric’s waning interest, “I hear the Ishgardians are of great taste, when it comes to such shows of status, hmm?”
Aymeric would think that any Ishgardian noble caught wearing Far Eastern perfumes would be the centre of a scandalised gossip circle, but he knew better than to mention that, “You might have stiff competition with the East Aldenald Trading Company,” he said slowly, still keeping an eye on Aza, “Lord Lolorito is incredibly protective of the trading contracts he has within Eorzea.”
“Ah, East Aldenald Trading Company!” Perfume Merchant sighed in clear frustration, “Yes, they’re so cutthroat. But, I hear you have an ear of this ‘Lord Lolorito’!”
Aymeric felt himself tense up when all the attention swung onto Aza, who blinked and stirred out of his determined staring into nothingness to warily look back at the merchant.
“Huh?” he said intelligibly.
“Lord Lolorito,” Perfume Merchant said impatiently, “You have a, ah, relationship with him, don’t you? With that crony of his, Hancock. Surely, if Eorzea’s influential ‘Warrior of Light’ asked on my behalf for my business…”
Aza looked reluctantly amused – and angry. It was an odd mix on his face, “He won’t care.”
“Oh?” Perfume Merchant frowned, “But, I thought you were some, ah, hero or such nonsense. Your social standing must be…”
“Okay, let me rephrase,” Aza said in clipped tones, anger beginning to win over amusement, “I don’t care. If you want to deal with Lord Lolorito so badly, petition the rat bastard yourself instead of bothering me and Aym with it. We don’t give a shit.”
Perfume Man and the gathered socialites all looked scandalised, staring at him open-mouthed, and Aymeric quickly leapt into action before things became too ugly.
“Look at that, I do believe I recognise Doma’s emissary,” he said, quickly taking up Aza’s elbow and steering him away, “Very sorry to cut and dash, but we promised to speak with him. We’ll discuss trading later…”
Aza was silent as they escaped to the other side of the hall, putting the rest of the party crowd between them and the scandalised group. No doubt that encounter will have circulated amongst the gossips and grown legs by the end of the night.
“What was that?” he asked sharply once they stopped by a sliding door leading to outside, “You’re not normally that rude.”
Aza’s jaw was clenched, and he pulled his arm out of Aymeric’s grip, shifting away from him, “I wasn’t being rude, I was telling him the truth.”
“Telling the truth rudely,” Aymeric emphasised, warily eyeing how Aza was all but throttling his wine glass, “Aza…”
“I’m just- you weren’t paying attention,” Aza growled out, glaring at the sliding door like it had personally offended him somehow, “You didn’t care either.”
Aymeric didn’t dignify that with a response, carefully taking in how Aza was all… curled in on himself. He was clutching the wine glass tightly, yes, but his elbows were tight against his sides, his shoulders hunched, his tail tucked very low with the fur looking fluffier than usual, his ears tilted so far back they were almost flat against his head. He looked like a dog curled up in the corner, anticipating its master’s cruel hand to snap at it.
“Aza,” he began quietly, “I know this place-”
“Don’t,” Aza cut in sharply, “Don’t. We’re not talking about that right now.”
Aymeric leaned back on his heels, “Then are you going to behave for the rest of the night, or do you want to leave?”
“I’m not leaving you alone here, within arm’s reach of every fucking Garlean in Kugane,” Aza muttered unhappily, “I’ll stay. I’ll- I’ll behave.”
“Let me rephrase,” Aymeric said gently, “Do you want us to leave?”
Aza’s eyes lowered, his mouth twisting as he fidgeted with his wine glass, slowly turning it over and over between his fingers. They were shaking a little, and Aymeric realised, with some dismay, how ashen Aza looked, that there was a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead from his internalised stressing out.
“That’ll hold you back,” Aza said, “No. It’s- it’s fine. I can, I can deal with this. It’s been… a very long time, and, I should be over it now. So…”
“Aza,” Aymeric said, “It’s fine if this place still makes you upset. Ten years, twenty years, fifty… your feelings are still valid, no matter how much time has passed.”
“It shouldn’t be,” Aza said roughly, “I fucking hate-” he stopped and took a breath, clenching his fingers of the wine stem before forcing himself to relax, “I’m sorry.”
“For…?”
“For, for snapping at that… whatever his name was. Perfume Man or something.”
Aymeric couldn’t recall his name either so he took it, “It’s fine. I might have to do some damage control…” he paused when Aza wilted, “It’s fine. I wasn’t intending on taking him up on his trading offers anyways. However, I was going to reject him politely.”
“He was an ugly schmoozer anyways,” Aza muttered, “He stank of corrupted elite.”
Considering Aza’s bias and experience with said corrupted elite of Kugane, Aymeric wasn’t sure if Aza’s judgement was clouded or to be trusted in this case. He kept that to himself, however, knowing better than most that doubting Aza’s feelings on things Kugane ended up with him getting incredibly cold and distant for the rest of the night.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said neutrally.
Aza swirled the wine in his glass, staring down at it for a moment, before knocking it back like it was water, “I can stay,” he said lowly, “Just… make sure no one talks to me.”
“I’ll tell them you have laryngitis,” Aymeric said dryly, “Does that work?”
“Mm,” Aza smiled, though it didn’t look very happy, “I’m sorry, Aym. I’ve ruined the night.”
“You haven’t ruined anything. Made things slightly difficult, perhaps, but… well, I’d be bored if I didn’t have a scandal or two to smooth over.”
Aza’s smile became a little lighter at that, “It does keep you on your toes.”
“But, please no more tonight,” Aymeric said lightly, holding out his arm and smiling when Aza took it, “Best behaviour – and if you feel you can’t stand it any longer, tell me and we’ll leave.”
“Alright, handsome,” Aza said, sounding tired, “Got it.”
With that they went back into the fray, Aza looking as if he was confronting a trial more arduous than the Primals he fought on a regular basis.
Characters: Warrior of Light/Aymeric de Borel, Original Characters
Rating: T
Warnings: Anxiety, implied past trauma
Aymeric was beginning to wonder if bringing Aza was a mistake.
He was obviously tense, jittery and unhappy, though he covered it up admirably by throwing on an incredible poker face that had fooled him for the first hour into his schmoozing. But, it wasn’t as if Aymeric could bring it to attention currently – surrounded by a gaggle of interested Kuganites socialites and political elite, in the middle of a ‘diplomatic function’ in Kugane.
He knew Aza hated these. He knew it. Yet Aza had assured him that it would be fine, that he’d prefer to be with him as, as well as being famous for their wild parties hidden under the guise of politicking, they were also famous for being prime spots for assassinations. Aymeric already had enough knives sticking into him where they had no business being, so he had buried his misgivings and let Aza accompany him into the glitzy social life of Kugane’s political elite.
It was probably a mistake to.
Aymeric kept half his attention on their group’s chatter – a very well-dressed Kuganite Hyur, with a pompous attitude that would make a High House noble in Ishgard proud, was regaling everyone on how he was building a merchant empire on perfumes or something – and the rest of his attention on Aza’s tense form beside him.
His partner was staring fixedly ahead into the middle distance, clearly not listening to a word the perfume merchant was saying, his grip alarmingly tight around his wine glass. He could almost hear the delicate stem crunching in half with how white his knuckles were. His other hand kept twitching at his belt, where Aymeric knew Aza had hidden a knife under the formal clothing he had willingly donned (as armour and being openly armed was a very big no at these things, especially as everyone inevitably got drunk and was within arm’s reach of at least one mortal enemy). His expression was eerie blank, though, showing not a single flicker of emotion despite the tension all but radiating off him.
It made Aza look like he was carved from marble. Aymeric felt uneasy.
“-so, it would be incredibly beneficial indeed to try and, ah, break into, the perfume market in Eorzea,” Perfume Merchant was rambling, oblivious to Aymeric’s waning interest, “I hear the Ishgardians are of great taste, when it comes to such shows of status, hmm?”
Aymeric would think that any Ishgardian noble caught wearing Far Eastern perfumes would be the centre of a scandalised gossip circle, but he knew better than to mention that, “You might have stiff competition with the East Aldenald Trading Company,” he said slowly, still keeping an eye on Aza, “Lord Lolorito is incredibly protective of the trading contracts he has within Eorzea.”
“Ah, East Aldenald Trading Company!” Perfume Merchant sighed in clear frustration, “Yes, they’re so cutthroat. But, I hear you have an ear of this ‘Lord Lolorito’!”
Aymeric felt himself tense up when all the attention swung onto Aza, who blinked and stirred out of his determined staring into nothingness to warily look back at the merchant.
“Huh?” he said intelligibly.
“Lord Lolorito,” Perfume Merchant said impatiently, “You have a, ah, relationship with him, don’t you? With that crony of his, Hancock. Surely, if Eorzea’s influential ‘Warrior of Light’ asked on my behalf for my business…”
Aza looked reluctantly amused – and angry. It was an odd mix on his face, “He won’t care.”
“Oh?” Perfume Merchant frowned, “But, I thought you were some, ah, hero or such nonsense. Your social standing must be…”
“Okay, let me rephrase,” Aza said in clipped tones, anger beginning to win over amusement, “I don’t care. If you want to deal with Lord Lolorito so badly, petition the rat bastard yourself instead of bothering me and Aym with it. We don’t give a shit.”
Perfume Man and the gathered socialites all looked scandalised, staring at him open-mouthed, and Aymeric quickly leapt into action before things became too ugly.
“Look at that, I do believe I recognise Doma’s emissary,” he said, quickly taking up Aza’s elbow and steering him away, “Very sorry to cut and dash, but we promised to speak with him. We’ll discuss trading later…”
Aza was silent as they escaped to the other side of the hall, putting the rest of the party crowd between them and the scandalised group. No doubt that encounter will have circulated amongst the gossips and grown legs by the end of the night.
“What was that?” he asked sharply once they stopped by a sliding door leading to outside, “You’re not normally that rude.”
Aza’s jaw was clenched, and he pulled his arm out of Aymeric’s grip, shifting away from him, “I wasn’t being rude, I was telling him the truth.”
“Telling the truth rudely,” Aymeric emphasised, warily eyeing how Aza was all but throttling his wine glass, “Aza…”
“I’m just- you weren’t paying attention,” Aza growled out, glaring at the sliding door like it had personally offended him somehow, “You didn’t care either.”
Aymeric didn’t dignify that with a response, carefully taking in how Aza was all… curled in on himself. He was clutching the wine glass tightly, yes, but his elbows were tight against his sides, his shoulders hunched, his tail tucked very low with the fur looking fluffier than usual, his ears tilted so far back they were almost flat against his head. He looked like a dog curled up in the corner, anticipating its master’s cruel hand to snap at it.
“Aza,” he began quietly, “I know this place-”
“Don’t,” Aza cut in sharply, “Don’t. We’re not talking about that right now.”
Aymeric leaned back on his heels, “Then are you going to behave for the rest of the night, or do you want to leave?”
“I’m not leaving you alone here, within arm’s reach of every fucking Garlean in Kugane,” Aza muttered unhappily, “I’ll stay. I’ll- I’ll behave.”
“Let me rephrase,” Aymeric said gently, “Do you want us to leave?”
Aza’s eyes lowered, his mouth twisting as he fidgeted with his wine glass, slowly turning it over and over between his fingers. They were shaking a little, and Aymeric realised, with some dismay, how ashen Aza looked, that there was a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead from his internalised stressing out.
“That’ll hold you back,” Aza said, “No. It’s- it’s fine. I can, I can deal with this. It’s been… a very long time, and, I should be over it now. So…”
“Aza,” Aymeric said, “It’s fine if this place still makes you upset. Ten years, twenty years, fifty… your feelings are still valid, no matter how much time has passed.”
“It shouldn’t be,” Aza said roughly, “I fucking hate-” he stopped and took a breath, clenching his fingers of the wine stem before forcing himself to relax, “I’m sorry.”
“For…?”
“For, for snapping at that… whatever his name was. Perfume Man or something.”
Aymeric couldn’t recall his name either so he took it, “It’s fine. I might have to do some damage control…” he paused when Aza wilted, “It’s fine. I wasn’t intending on taking him up on his trading offers anyways. However, I was going to reject him politely.”
“He was an ugly schmoozer anyways,” Aza muttered, “He stank of corrupted elite.”
Considering Aza’s bias and experience with said corrupted elite of Kugane, Aymeric wasn’t sure if Aza’s judgement was clouded or to be trusted in this case. He kept that to himself, however, knowing better than most that doubting Aza’s feelings on things Kugane ended up with him getting incredibly cold and distant for the rest of the night.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said neutrally.
Aza swirled the wine in his glass, staring down at it for a moment, before knocking it back like it was water, “I can stay,” he said lowly, “Just… make sure no one talks to me.”
“I’ll tell them you have laryngitis,” Aymeric said dryly, “Does that work?”
“Mm,” Aza smiled, though it didn’t look very happy, “I’m sorry, Aym. I’ve ruined the night.”
“You haven’t ruined anything. Made things slightly difficult, perhaps, but… well, I’d be bored if I didn’t have a scandal or two to smooth over.”
Aza’s smile became a little lighter at that, “It does keep you on your toes.”
“But, please no more tonight,” Aymeric said lightly, holding out his arm and smiling when Aza took it, “Best behaviour – and if you feel you can’t stand it any longer, tell me and we’ll leave.”
“Alright, handsome,” Aza said, sounding tired, “Got it.”
With that they went back into the fray, Aza looking as if he was confronting a trial more arduous than the Primals he fought on a regular basis.
