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“Fool of a girl!”
Matoya’s shout, a mixture of anger and fear, rings out through the hidden cave that is her personal sanctuary. For just a moment, the numerous brooms that have spent an age mindlessly sweeping the rocky floors freeze before resuming their usual duties.
“Shtola!”
Popono Pono, the Lalafell man better known as the Warrior of Light, shares in the immediate fear permeating the space as he rushes towards the working desk of Y’shtola Rhul. The woman herself is slumped over said desk, a puff of pink aetherical smoke dissipating from around her head as he approaches.
“I warned you! Did I not say that messing with forces we still barely understand can only lead to disaster? I didn’t come to reach my age by throwing caution to the wind every time some new subject piqued my curiosity!”
“Ugh…” Y’shtola groans as she holds her head in one hand, ruffling her beautiful white hair in the process. “How do you expect us to understand dynamis if we’re too afraid to experiment with it?”
“N-now I know I’m not as experienced of a scholar as the two of you,” Popono sheepishly mumbles, “but one of the few things we do know about dynamis is that we have no control over it.”
“We have no control over it yet,” she retorts as she leans back in her seat, her silver eyes remaining closed as she takes a deep breath. “In any case, I think this is as good a stopping point as any for the day.”
“Are you feeling alright? That spell quite literally blew up in your face.”
“I’m fine,” she states matter-of-factly as she finally opens her sightless eyes and gives her partner a smile. “Thank you, love.”
Popono blinks at the epithet, but decides to make no further mention of it.
“Hmph. We shall see about that,” Matoya grumbles as she turns from the pair, her shoulders visibly slouching in what she would never admit to be relief at the sight of her student’s well-being. “Don’t come crying to me when you wake up tomorrow missing your tail or some nonsense.”
“And you try not to get too upset when I leave your name off of my research,” Y’shtola coyly remarks as she rises from the desk. “Well, then. Shall we head home?”
“Your place or mine?” Popono asks as he gathers the ingredients he’d been using to brew all manner of potions while his beloved partner conducted her research.
“Well, my notes would certainly come in handy,” Y’shtola ponders before giving him a coy smile. “But then again, your bed is significantly more inviting than mine.”
Popono blinks once again.
“Um–?”
“Oh, would you stop flirting and go?” Matoya complains.
“My place it is,” Popono chuckles as he shrugs off the strange feeling nagging at him.
“Race you.”
“W-wait, what?”
Before he has a chance to properly respond, Y’shtola’s teleportation spell completes and he finds himself down one Miqo’te.
“Thank you for the hospitality, Master Matoya.”
Matoya sighs before turning her head to face him, a tired, kind smile on her face.
“Thank you for taking care of her.”
Popono offers her a reciprocal smile and nod before his own teleportation spell finishes, leaving the witch alone in her cave once more.
“He’s about to be in for an interesting evening.”
When Popono opens his eyes, he’s standing at a miniature aetheryte along the side of a wooden cabin. His humble home is tucked away in a quiet corner of the Twelveswood, the property well-maintained and inviting but not exactly eye-catching. Aside from the chocobo stable (within which his noble steed is peacefully snoozing), there’s not much in the way of outside decor.
“I’ll never quite understand how you managed to acquire property here of all places. It must have cost you a small fortune.”
“Tataru isn’t the only one with business acumen,” he teases, “but I’ll admit that I pulled some strings, too. The Twin Adder owes me a lifetime of favors.”
“Can’t imagine why,” Y’shtola retorts with a smile as she lets herself through the front door. “Oh, you’ve spruced it up since last I visited.”
“It doesn’t really hold a candle to your place in Sharlayan, but I’ve had a little more free time to work on it since our whole ‘stopping the Final Days’ thing.”
“...Is that a mammet in my likeness?”
“Nope!” Popono shouts, his cheeks turning red as he stands between his partner and one of the many mammets that have been given free roam of the estate. “Anyway, can I treat you to dinner?”
“You’re cute,” she states matter-of-factly, causing Popono to tilt his head. “But yes, I’d love that. Your cooking is second to none.”
“...Seriously, are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’ve been acting more… affectionate than I’m used to since your experiment went wrong.”
“Am I?” She places a finger to her chin, the sweet smile on her face briefly fading in place of confusion. “Hmm.”
“You were messing with dynamis, yeah?”
“Indeed. It wasn’t anything extraordinary, I was simply trying to convert my emotions into a measurable quantity, like in Ultima Thule.”
“You were trying to create something out of dynamis?”
“No, nothing so grand. I just wanted to see if there was a way to feel dynamis in a manner similar to aether.”
“Then what was the explosion?”
“Hmm…” Y’shtola’s eyes close for just a moment before shooting back open alongside a snap of her fingers. “Aha! Popono, I believe I succeeded.”
“Um?”
“In my attempts to coax dynamis into a more tangible form, I focused on my own emotions. Specifically, the positive ones. We don’t want a repeat of what happened to Meteion.” Her smile returns. “To do so, I thought about many things. I thought about my work, my dreams, my upbringing. Everything only went wrong when I thought of you.”
“W-what does that mean?”
“I think that I went too far. My emotions ran too hot, and the dynamis ‘manifested’ much stronger than I anticipated.”
“Causing it to blow up in your face?”
“Precisely. And, by extension, leaving me to absorb my own feelings in a tangible form.”
“Wait, so… where does that leave us?”
“It leaves me with a constant, burning desire to kiss you.”
“S-Shtola?!”
“Oh, don’t act so surprised. It’s not like we haven’t done worse.”
“That’s not the problem here!” Popono shouts, his voice a mixture of confusion and concern. “Shtola, I love you, and I’m not so insecure as to think you don’t love me too. But this? This isn’t like you at all! You’re Y’shtola, you’re supposed to be aloof and coy a-and cool!”
“I appreciate your concern,” she purrs, her tail swishing shamelessly behind her. “Really. It’s adorable.”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about!”
“Don’t worry,” she chuckles as she sashays closer to her Lalafell lover, his face growing hotter with each step she takes. “Accident or no, there wasn’t nearly enough dynamis to do any permanent damage. I’ll most likely be fine by morning.”
“M-morning?! But what about now?”
“Well, if I had to describe it,” she starts, her voice sultry and low as she gives him a grin that makes him feel like he’s being hunted, “it’s like if you just had a couple glasses too many of Shamani’s finest, and the greatest man in Eorzea wanted to be your partner for the evening.”
“I’m flattered. And also terrified?”
“And completely into it.”
“...That, I cannot deny.”
“Hmhm. You know, there’s a voice in the back of my head that’s screaming out in embarrassment right now.”
“And?”
“And I think she can wait until morning. It’s my turn to play.”
“I– urk!”
Popono grunts as he feels a shockingly strong, prehensile tail wrap around his torso, squeezing his arms against his chest and lifting him into the air.
“Why don’t we skip dinner and go right to dessert, hm?”
“Twelve take me,” Popono squeaks out as Y’shtola’s laughter fills the halls of his small, dimly lit cabin.
“Well,” Popono says with a smile and a yawn as he sits up in bed, his shirt conspicuously missing and a number of new markings adorning his body. The morning sun is just beginning to peek through a nearby window, giving him enough light to see his equally shirtless lover lying next to him. “That was fun. How are you feeling, Shtola?”
The Miqo’te refuses to lift her head off of her pillow, her face buried so deep within it that Popono almost can’t see her beet-red face.
“If you ever say a word about yesterday to a single soul, I swear to you that I will have your head.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he purrs as he reaches over and begins to stroke her now-messy hair, causing her cat-like ears to twitch at his touch. “Though, I admit I’m a little more excited to see where your dynamis experiments go now.”
“No. Absolutely not.” Finally she turns her head to face him, her grey eyes half-lidded in equal parts exhaustion and embarrassment. “I’ll stick to aetherology, thank you.”
“...Love you, Sthola.”
She groans before burying her face once more.
“Didn’t you hear it enough last night?”
“I want to hear it out of ‘sober’ Shtola’s mouth.”
“...”
“Come on. Prove to me that those were your real thoughts.”
After a moment, she lets out a long, drawn-out sigh.
“...I love you too, Popono.”
He lets out a single, quiet chuckle.
“Thank you–!” Before he can finish his thanks, a fresh set of claw marks appear across his face. “...I regret nothing.”
