Work Text:
“Ryne!” Gaia yelled over her shoulder. “Your friend is here!”
Then she walked away, leaving the door open, not even sparing the legendary Warrior of Darkness a second glance. She sulked against a doorframe on the far side of the apartment.
D’fhiri stepped into the small living space, taking a moment to absorb the decor the girls had put together. It was so unmistakably a mixture of Gaia and Ryne’s unique sensibilities. Black candles, crystal clusters, leather tomes and plushies galore filled the shelf-lined walls near to bursting. Small glass enclosures were perched amongst the artifacts and mementos that, upon closer inspection, held some variety of benign spider species — likely a project of Gaia’s, in unknowing homage to her past life’s role as Loghrif. Makeups of all shades were strewn across a kitchen bar, a pair of gold filigree mirrors on little stands at each end, clearly bought secondhand as a matching set. Their furniture was covered in plush blankets and pillows, vines curling across the top of the large northern-facing windows where the afternoon light caught motes of dust floating on the air.
Ambling over to the coffee table, D’fhiri set down the basket of goods she’d brought — a selection of gifts and letters from the Scions. A small travel journal, each page filled with Thancred’s musings, as well as a few shining treasures, a fresh pair of daggers, and a lovingly crafted plush depicting Hraesvelgr to add to her collection. From Urianger, a middling stack of tomes both new and old, from legends to poetry, and a posh box filled with a variety of Lominsan sweets. Y’shtola and Tataru had gone in together on a set of new cosmetics from out of Ul’Dah,
This was now her third or fourth visit specifically for this purpose. Since the End of Days had been averted, there was plenty of time to explore the world and check in with loved ones. And, being the only one able to traverse the rift with any kind of regularity, that task fell to the small Miqo’te. She didn’t mind, although the Crystarium simply wasn’t the same without G’raha. What she wouldn’t give to take him by the hand and bring him along, one of these trips.
She flopped onto the couch unceremoniously, kicking up a small amount of dust and the faint scent of stale incense.
With impatience, Gaia knocked several times on the door she was leaning against. “Ryne?” she called.
A soft, muffled voice could be heard beyond.
Gaia sighed deeply. D’fhiri’s ears perked — this kind of behavior was unusual, coming from Gaia towards Ryne. Since they had finished using Eden to restore elemental balance to this shard, the two girls had been thick as thieves, Gaia often showing a modicum of joy and gentleness toward her companion. They were so lovely with each other, in fact, that it had given everyone, and especially Thancred, a great deal of comfort knowing they’d have each other to look out for after the Scions had returned to the Source.
Even young couples had spats, she supposed. And probably about far more inconsequential things than most.
Gaia stomped over to the reading chair beside where D’fhiri sat, sitting with a load of tension in her shoulders. “She’s been like this for about a week,” she said.
“A week?” D’fhiri raised her eyebrows. She glanced toward the unmoving door leading into the bedroom. The timing would be late, but… “Would it help if I spoke to her about… um….”
“It’s not her cycle,” Gaia reprimanded with a dramatic roll of the eyes. “It’s her clothes.”
“Her… clothes?” D’fhiri blinked.
“She decided to get some new ones, as she outgrew the old, and since you told us we could ask Lyna for anything, we asked her. She directed us to a few tailors and we paid what we could. And, well, she’s not happy with what the tailor gave her.” Gaia shrugged. “Hasn’t even left the apartment since they were delivered.”
A curious set of circumstances, but at this point, D’fhiri had heard stranger from less trustworthy sources. “Are they that awful?”
“She hasn’t let me even see one of the outfits,” Gaia said, shaking her head with a humorless grin. “I keep saying they can’t be that bad, but….”
D’fhiri nodded. She stood, then pointed to a box full of fresh-baked biscuits from Tataru. “Half of those are for you.” Gaia did not hesitate to give a tiny squeal of delight, gleefully diving onto the box.
“Ryne?” D’fhiri said through the crack on the door. “I’m coming in.”
“Please— don’t!” A tiny squeak came from the younger girl as D’fhiri turned the handle anyway. There was a thud and a few footsteps before she caught sight of Ryne, wrapped from shoulders to the floor in a thick quilt she had clearly just pulled off the bed.
“Are you decent?” D’fhiri asked.
“I— technically,” the teenager said. She looked both angry and on the verge of tears.
The Warrior of Darkness had faced gods, toppled monarchies, saved worlds and countless lives, but she’d never faced anything quite so scary as needing to have a frank conversation with a teenage girl. Pursing her lips uneasily, she closed the door behind her, then moved to the bed. She sat on the edge, leaning on a hand, eyes sober and ready to take whatever this was seriously. “What’s going on, Ryne?”
She swayed a bit. Her soft ginger hair was mussed, and her face sported uncharacteristic bags under her eyes. Had she been losing sleep over this?
“Gaia told you about the seamster?”
She nodded in affirmation.
Ryne’s bottom lip wobbled. “It’s just… nothing fits me anymore, and these new clothes are just so… so….”
D’fhiri waited patiently, not wanting to push her young friend. Oh, to be a teenager, and for every little thing to feel like it was the end of the world. But when it was clear Ryne was already feeling overwhelmed, she said with an encouraging smile, “they surely cannot be that terrible.”
“But they are,” Ryne whispered.
“Perhaps if you showed me I’d better understand.”
Ryne dropped the blanket she was holding around herself, all the shame and redness on her face the same as if she had just revealed something scandalous. D’fhiri was no expert on fashion, but she’d thrown her hand in at the Gold Saucer a few times and come out well-endowed with coin. Even she could see the outfit was a travesty, to say the least. Colors somehow muted but clashing, the puffy sleeves of Eulmoran design with the long, billowy pants D’fhiri might have associated with the desert-dwellers of Amh Araeng. There were altogether far too many ruffles, and the fabric tightened in places that were inappropriate at worst, nonsensical at best.
“All of the pieces are like this?” she asked with abject horror.
Ryne burst into tears.
—
D’fhiri had done less work on conquering gods, she thought with no small amount of amusement. She’d made many trips — first to Lyna, then to Katliss, both of whom had absolutely no idea how the seamster Ryne commissioned had come up with such a spectacle. It was supposed that the craftsperson had gotten wind of Ryne’s association with the Warrior of Darkness and had tried to go for an avante gard approach, unfortunately falling on the poorest end of dowdy. They promised to rectify it as best they could when their reorgnization of the Crystarium security allowed, but D’fhiri assured them it would not be necessary.
Then she made a tour of Eorzea, acquiring several pieces from Tataru, who all but shoved several prototypes onto her. After she explained the situation to Kozakura in the Doman Enclave, she found herself leaving with several pounds of beautiful silks and sashes. She had no sooner returned to Sharlayan to find that Tataru had sent out feelers to her suppliers in Radz-at-Han, Ul’Dah, and Ala Mhigo.
Last but not least was a most touching, if not entirely surprising, contribution from Thancred. He and Urianger had made a stop at the Rising Stones and acquired several of Minfilia’s accessories, untouched since her departure to the Aetherial Sea. Yalms of hair ribbons, brooches, and jewelry were found. All were in agreement that these items would be of favorable aesthetic to Ryne, who despite everything, still had some flashes of old familiarity within her.
By the time she was to return to the First, D’fhiri had a veritable cartload of a wardrobe to deliver. Thanks to the work of a well-paid gleaner enchantress, she was able to fit all of it within a heavy pack, the insides magically enlarged.
Ryne was ecstatic. Each item pulled from the pack was met with teary approval. D’fhiri was even sure she saw Gaia smile once, while Ryne swished a flattering, baby blue skirt in the mirror. After the exhibition of several new items, Gaia held Ryne’s hands in her own, murmuring something to her that was met with enthusiastic nods and a chaste kiss. Clearly, they were bashful to be showing affections in front of D’fhiri.
“I’ll make sure to reach out to you when I outgrow my wardrobe,” the cynical girl had joked as D’fhiri made to leave. The Warrior of Darkness was no fool — when two girls lived together in such close proximity, a sharing of closets was to be expected. They had yet to reach the bottom of the satchel, where a veritable treasure trove of black and lace awaited them.
She pulled Ryne into a warm hug, holding her close with all the emotion she could channel from their entire family back on the Source. “We all love you,” she murmured. “We would never let you go without.”
Feeling far lighter than she had any time she vanquished a god, D’fhiri left for home.