FFXIV Misc. Posts

[eightlazylegs]

For Eithyrs related threading.

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[snapandflounce]

Nidhogg had a mate, yes, a consort-- but that was not about sex. That was about companionship and bonding. They did not couple or breed.

What happened last night? Someone got bred, alright.

They stop short of the borderlands -- just deep enough into the forest that no one should see a fire, but the pinprick glows of warm hearths through village windows down in the valley were visible from where they were.

The village was a way point. A stop-off. Warm beds, before they went a little further. From there it would be short trip to Ala Mhigo by airship, and then... Well, they'd see how they reacted to him. Few knew his face outside his fellow Garleans -- but he was certain some might know him.

Hopefully he wouldn't be walking himself to the chopping block. Hopefully they'd at least let him talk before Valdeaulin arranged his execution. He could hope for that much, at least. A last ditch effort to save his beloved Garelmald from Ascian rulers.

[eightlazylegs]

Definitely not Nidhogg that was thinking of Gaius running his hands down his body, bending him back, opening him up with fingers and tongue. Definitely not.

Estinien maintain his stoicism as much as he could during the walk, and if Valdeulin tried to get him alone he skillfully dodged it. The man would have choice words and he wasn't quite sure how he wanted to answer yet.

[snapandflounce]

Having never broke his stoic demeanor till he was fully seated in the dragoon the night previous, Gaius is as he always was, just a fraction less tense looking. If he cares about Valdeaulin's behavior, he says nothing -- there will only be words when Valdeanlin decides to give him at tonguelashing.

He helps set up camp, he eats, he offers to take first watch so others can rest. Also so he can strip to the waist while the rest slumber, and tend to his wounds. Ugly things, cereleum burns. A chemical fire leaves terrible scars, and Gaius is still healing, months later, and will be a long time healing still. There is pain, but he does not acknowledge it or allow it to stop his hunt. He just uses the healing tincture he managed to find when they raided a Garlean base on the fringes. It's helped. So has the rest.

[eightlazylegs]

The fingers delved in, careful but without asking for permission. He was being inspected like a damn vase by a potential buyer, and Hyth wanted him to remember it.

"I wonder how much it can take," he mused, adding in an extra finger with a grin. "What would make it so full it couldn't bear it."

[eightlazylegs]

Estinien drifts over to him. It almost feels like a force of nature brings him, a cloud wandering across the sky, rather than the man actively choosing to be in Gaius's presence. The comparisons to a stray coeurl will not go unmissed.

"Your man seems determined to lecture me like I'm a wayward child," he mutters, crouching beside him at the fire. "One starts to wonder if he's jealous."

[snapandflounce]

Gaius' expression crinkles in what may be distaste, or disdain. Valdeaulin is... well. The little their history is spoken, the better: none of it was kind, and the unkindness continues, little cuts coming after the big ones.

"He's ignorant and beneath your notice, dragoon," Gaius says with clear truth. Valdeaulin may be his captor, but he is Estinien's inferior in every way. "Don't let him bother you. Bare your teeth and the coyote will crouch low and stay wary. He will only nip the heels of the weak."

[snapandflounce]

With spit on his lips while he tongues between Hyth's fingers, Emet whines softly, letting his eyes close as he starts to feel the pressure he enjoys, detaches from his noble purpose and lets himself be if not nothing, something less than the great Emet-Selch.

There is nothing worse than being Emet Selch right now. A base, hungry concept easy to be put to use is a far more preferable existence at the moment.

[eightlazylegs]

"So adaptable, my lovely concept is," Hyth purred as he continued his probing. "A wild beast or a tame pet, as I choose. I will be giving this one very high marks indeed."

His fingers abruptly spread apart, opening Emet-Selch up further.

[eightlazylegs]

"Aye, but he's persistant. Damn mage accosted me while i was tryingto make water." Trousers open and there the man is lecturing him about how Gaius is nothing but a beast, taking what he needs, but shouldn't the vaunted Azure Dragoon of Ishgard know better?

(Showed how little he know about Azure Dragoons.)

"But I care not what he thinks of me," Estinien insisted. He curled one leg up to his chest, staring into the fire.

[snapandflounce]

Emet-Selch moaned abruptly, mouth working around Hyth's fingers, his eyes opening and then closing as he writhes un the bonds he could easily break if he saw fit. But his eyes roll in his head, and that inhuman hunger for more stirs in his aether-rich soul.

This one, he wants to say, is very good and deserves more. But instead muscles flex and relax, fingers curling and unfurling as he restrains himself as much as the bonds do.

[snapandflounce]

"Then why complain? You cannot possibly care what he thinks of me," Gaius says, looking over him as he rubs creamy, red tincture into the ugly burns that track up both arms and onto his chest, appearing in patches over his torso. "He's beneath you, and he knows it. He cannot control you or even hope to influence. It's just noise."

Gaius turned his gaze away, satisfied that both arms were well rubbed, and then works on shoulders and chest. He does not look back when he says, "You should rest."

[eightlazylegs]

Hyth is happy to say it for him. "Well, it's been so good for the inspection, I suppose I might as well give it a reward. To encourage good behavior."

His breath ghosts over Emet-Selch's cheek as his fingers pull out, slickness called from aether pouring across his palm. "Spread your legs a bit more, dear construct, if you wish it?"

[eightlazylegs]

"How do you reach your back, in such a state?" Estinien asks, in complete defiance of any of the questions he was actually asked. "You'll not be able to reach the bulk of it. Turn around and I'll handle it."

[snapandflounce]

"I used to be far more flexible," Gaius said dryly, something like mirth warming his eyes.

The mirth remains, teasing a half-smile to his lips, as he offers the bottle of tincture, and says, "A little bit goes a ways." Such can be said of many things -- but a little bit of affection has the couerl coming back for another scritching, it seems. "But surely you are familiar with burn care."

[snapandflounce]

If he wishes! Oh, Gods be good, he does. Exhaling in a rush, Emet-Selch moves to make sure he has room, to give Hyth is most sensitive, delicate parts, vulnerable and completely at peace with it. He knows Hyth would never harm him, and his trust is total and complete.

[eightlazylegs]

That is some of the bliss of being what he is, before Emet-Selch's overwhelming power. He can let it overtake him, or he can press back and know what he can do won't harm his lover. He pats Emet-Selch's cheek and he slides in, cooing at him for being such a good concept. So obedient and yielding. So warm and tight.

[eightlazylegs]

"Familiar enough." Estinien strips the gauntlets from his hands and goes to work. To his credit, he does do good work and doesn't try to make it weird - wound care is more important than seduction.

[snapandflounce]

It's nice not to have to crane his neck and pull at his still-healing skin. It is ugly, though -- where cloth burned, metal searing hot over it. But it is no more than the survivors of dragon's breath have, if from a different source. Cereleum clings to the skin, melts it down, burns deep. It's only through magitek an a bit of conjury that Gaius lives, let alone is still capable of lifting his gunblade.

"Then I trust you'll do it right," is all he says, as he lets Estinien do as he should, and unfurling clean bandaging and preparing to wrap his arms.

[snapandflounce]

The sigh Emet-Selch lets free is both one of relief and one of adoration; he loves his Hyth so much, so stupidly much. Even when he is cross with Azem, who roams and returns home when they will, Hyth is always there to make sure he knows he is still loved.

He lifts his head a little, trying to reach Hyth however he can-- mouth, eyes, sobs of need. Whatever he can give to Hyth, it's his. His body welcomes him in, greedy and loving, and yes, obedient and completely pliant.

[eightlazylegs]

Estinien knows what skin healed by magic looks like, versus skin which healed on its own. Gaius wasn't healed back to perfect health, as most would, but he was healed back from the point of it.

"He saved you from death," the dragoon mutters as he works the cream lower. "Did he know who you were?"

[snapandflounce]

"Yes," Gaius says, voice level, settling there on his knees, hands finding their rest on his thighs. A prim position, to say the least, but controlled and disciplined. The skin is still tender and healing - it will heal tight, stretch and burn, and need work to regain full mobility -- which will worsen as he heals, not improve. In a kinder place, he would be healed and given over to the chirugeons to regain his full fighting strength.

"My armor was irrepreably damaged," he explains, keeping his eyes dead ahead and his voice soft. "But no man of the Grand Companies of Eorzea did not know the mask of the Legatus of the XIVth. He would have killed me, had I not begged him stay his hand and hear the truth. Whatever madness took him in that moment, he listened and he believed."

[eightlazylegs]

Begged. It's hard to imagine the man begging for anything.

"You wished to live that badly?" he asked quietly, hands moving slow and steady. Hard to square with this man, who seems to live only through a sense of duty rather than a lust for life.

[eightlazylegs]

And Hyth takes it, slow and deep, forgoing all his little roleplays to kiss Hades full on the mouth and drink himself full of those lovely kisses. Azem is fickle, and that is his part to play. Hyth has long ago accepted this. But he will be here for Hades to come home to, when the mantle of Emet-Selch weighs so heavily on him that he has forgotten he is also Hades.

[snapandflounce]

"Do not mistake my will to live as craven," Gaius says, muscles slowly tensing under Estinien's hands. "It is not a desire to return home or to return to comfort that drives me. I asked him only time enough to hunt Ascians to extinction to free my people. After that, my life was his. I care not what he does with it."

Will to live? No. Will to hunt the beings that have driven his country for a century, creating a war machine that he found himself a cog in all for an alien's pleasure? That is the thing.

"I will take all of their tools, one by one, and I will see Garlemald freed. My mask hangs among theirs, another tool removed from their use. I will take the rest, by my own hand, should not your Warrior friend catch the rest. Every pawn down brings us closer to -- that thing, that Emet-Selch who puppets them."

[eightlazylegs]

Well, this sounds VERY familiar. Estinien chuckles, despite the dark topic, as his palms press and spread across the small of Gaius's back. "I imagine you find a strange comfort in that. To know you will not need to live in the world you will create, but that your work will eventually consume you. It is easier that way, no?"