Chapter Text
A dream, one blurred around the edges of his vision with bright light. Kafe stared at his hands, gone pale with golden rivulets that creeped along his skin. An insatiable hunger growled in his belly even though the taste of something lingered on his tongue. Gaze falling even further towards the ground, which was barren except for purple leaves coating the dirt, he saw blood. Following the blood trail, he saw a group of bodies.
Body going taut Kafe saw familiar clothes, familiar hair. All of his friends with bites taken from their limbs as blood polled beneath them. He wanted to retch, knowing full well what the iron taste in his mouth was. And so he heaved, trying to dispel what was in his stomach. All that came up was jewelry that couldn’t digest properly, an item from each of his companions; rings, hair ties, necklaces.
“Ah, so i’m a sin eater, then.” Kafe mused to himself quietly, the words unable to properly form on his lips.
Terror rose up in him, making his body shake like a small flower trying to brave a storm. A scream rang out and he reached towards his friends who were no more. His body fell, pain lacing his limbs as they proceeded to warp into something inhuman. Finally, after a crack that seemed to split himself in two did he wake up violently.
Chest heaving and sweat dripping down his neck and arms, kafe tried to control his breathing. A nightmare that had been plaguing him almost nightly these past few weeks rearing its ugly head yet again. Ever since he had almost turned, unable to control the absorbed light, Kafe hadn’t been able to drive the fear away from his mind. What if he was still slowly shifting into a sin eater? Even though by all accounts his soul had been mended, restored to how it had been, he couldn’t shake the possibility away.
Getting out of his bed, he looked around his private quarters in the Crystarium. He had taken to staying here more often, finding it more comfortable to sleep in a world away from his own. He loved the Source, memories there both good and bad ingrained in his heart. But with the knowledge of Zenos walking among the living yet again, he found it difficult to rest. His self-proclaimed cowardice a crutch of his own making.
Going to the window, Kafe opened it, looking out over the night of Lakeland. The landscape was indescribably beautiful, the stars and faint purple dlow of the trees calming him. A sparkling, iridescent landscape once covered in the eternal light from the flood now had the nighttime expanse of sky. The stars twinkled, and despite having known such a sky in the Source, seeing it here after everything felt much more gratifying.
Now here Kafe was, sitting at a good vantage in the little sanctuary point to oversee Lakeland, marveling at the violet boughs coating the landscape. His fondness for forests always prominent, he had taken to these lands with enthusiasm. New places, rich in their own history and life, it had filled his heart with a homesick feeling but also wonder. All so beautiful and haunting and unfamiliar.
The breeze rustled his hair, making an ear twitch. He sat with his legs crossed, leaning back to contemplate everything. It had been only a little time since it all calmed down, having gone back and forth numerous times from the First and the Source. Kafe tapped his fingers on the stone, too deep in his thoughts to notice the slow footsteps approach him.
“My friend, I did not hear of your arrival. How long have you been here?” A gentle voice asked, laced with an overflowing cheerfulness.
Turning his head, Kafe saw the Crystal Exarch, no… G’raha Tia walking up to him. Unhooded now, the crystal parts of his body shimmered in the moonlight. Kafe stared at him, watching as the other miqo’te sat next to him.
Oh, the Crystal Exarch. He had felt so familiar but at the same time completely foreign. Knowing his true identity answered many questions and unveiled more, but Kafe felt nothing but relief seeing him alive. Despite his haggard appearance and tired gait, Kafe was absolutely grateful for his safety. The man he had no trust for at the start becoming someone so incredibly dear.
“Need I parade my arrival?” He teased lightly, tail curling happily. G’raha simply smiled at him, mimicking Kafe’s posture. “”No, but I always look forward to them.”
Kafe felt his heart clench; seeing that expression and hearing those words carrying such fondness. He wanted to reach out and grab hold of it.
“What brings you to the Crystarium on such fine a night?” G’raha asks, looking up at the sky. His red eyes crinkled at the edges as his smile widened. “Not that I blame you. The sky is lovely.”
“The Source was never robbed of it.”
“Yes, but I’m sure there is more satisfaction with the First’s. After all, you are the hero who gifted us this view.”
Somewhat embarrassed by the praise, Kafe brought his knees to his chest and wrapped his tail around his ankles. This man dealt such words so easily.
“Why do you admire me so?” He asked, though he knew the answer. G’raha had read all of his tales, heard goodwill of the Warrior of Light from songs and books. How much he knew and what he knew was what was curiouser. It felt like he was repeating a conversation that had happened quite many years ago now.
G’raha gave him a confused look, which softened into one of understanding. “Why do you think, Kafe? After everything you’ve done? All of the hope you inspire in people? It helped me for countless years.”
“It’s… odd to know my life was written down, with people reading of me long after... everything that happened.” Kafe pulled himself a little closer in on himself, recalling the stories G’raha had clung to were after his death. It was chilling to think about, honestly. Kafe had no wish to die and no wish to know how it would come to be. But in one timeline it had been too soon and too much.
Nodding, G’raha looked away, back towards the speckled sky. “For me they were stories, and you were some fantastic hero from another time, even if I had known you briefly before.” He suddenly pursed his lips, almost in a defiant pout unbecoming of his current title. “I know how little you think of yourself sometimes. And that’s all nonsense.”
Startled, Kafe’s ears swiveled forwards. “H-how do you…?”
“Even when I had first met you it came off that way. When I asked your fellow scions about you to gauge your personality, they told me you were still similar in that regard.” Shrugged the Exarch, his more sly personality of before he had left in the Source bleeding through. It relieved Kafe to know there were things that had not changed.
“There were a few that I was quite… jealous of, if I can be truly honest with you.” G’raha said then, his ears twitching bashfully.
“Jealous?” Kafe repeated, keeping a scoff bottled up. Who would be jealous of some of the things that had happened to him? Knowing G’raha, it was probably many of them, his wishes to be go adventuring stronger than ever.
Being roped into all kinds of situations from Ul’dah to Ishgard, to encountering Zenos and liberating Ala Mhigo, where he thought he could rest after Doma. A lot of it was harrowing, but fruitful, too. Nightmares came too often.
Seeming to get more embarrassed as he tried to get the words out, G’raha fidgeted with his hands. “Well, specifically of… people.”
Raising an eyebrow, Kafe’s tail twitched curiously.
“You were almost married, were you not? During your stay in Ishgard?”
It felt like a bucket of cold water got dumped on Kafe, and he froze. Of course something like that would be recounted, it would create a sense of drama to any tale. But for Kafe it had been very real, very painful, and still made a dull ache beat in his chest.
“Yes, that… happened.”
“His part in your story brought me much grief, I cannot even imagine how painful it must have been to lose him. I’m sorry for making you remember such things, my friend.” G’raha seemed to almost slide closer, placing their shoulders together. His tail underneath his robes would have probably coiled around Kafe’s own if given the chance.
“But with that I was also jealous of him. I started to… project myself, albeit happily, into a similar situation with you…. Ah, I’ve said far too much, haven’t I? Wounds of the heart take much more time to heal.” He laughed nervously, gathering himself to stand up.
Face on fire, Kafe’s brain scrambled to think of something to reply with. All he knew was that he didn't’ want G’raha to go yet. So he jumped up, reached out and grabbed the other miqo’te’s hand.
“G’raha Tia…!” He said simply, watching those ruby eyes turn to look at him. So filled with admiration and adoration, threatening to spill over.
“Uh…. Er, I….” He stammered, staring at his boots so he didn’t have to see the smile that had begun to spread over G’raha’s face.
“Yes, Kafe?”
“Wh… How many books of me were there?”
Chuckling, G’raha squeezed Kafe’s hand. “Quite a few. Would you like to read them?”
“I can’t… read.” Embarrassed, Kafe lowered his head again. G’raha seemed to panic, placing his other hand over the one already holding Kafe’s. “Then I will gladly read them to you! Maybe you can clear up any discrepancies in the writing? I think that sounds quite enjoyable, actually.”
Beginning to lead Kafe along to the tower, Graha didn’t let go of his hand. Tail quivering, Kafe nodded silently. “I’m sure I’ll find some, I’m not very interesting to write about.”
“Oh, please, Kafe.”
====
The Ocular had books stacked into numerous tall piles, some of them having collapsed into a mess of papers and bindings. Kafe had only been here a few times before, but the small size of the room and the amount of books didn’t equate very well. Too many books, much too little living space.
Waiting at the door while G’raha frantically tried to straighten up, Kafe watched him run about. Putting books in certain spots or reading the spine to skip over it or grab it. Not all of them must be about himself, but G’raha was beginning to collect a sizable armfull. It was becoming too much for him to carry, so Kafe intercepted, forcefully taking a snack under his arm. In what he lacked in size he made up for in strength, particularly his arms. Drawing a bow most of your life and fighting Primals would do that to you.
When G’raha was done collecting all of the volumes he could find, the Exarch looked around the room as if trying to find some place to sit. Clearing his throat, Kafe dared to suggest they go to his quarters in the Crystarium. G’raha stared at him for a moment, then his face went almost as red as the clothes he wore. He agreed after a moment’s pause.
Walking through the Crystarium was always a lengthy process, as everyone came up to say hello or offer the Crystal Exarch something. Talking to everyone in turn, G’raha never seemed to tire of interacting with the townsfolk. He knew most everyone by name, and asked first if he didn’t. Kafe was also popular, his identity now commonly known as the Warrior of Darkness. By the time they had arrived at Kafe’s room, they had a basket each filled with food, drink and other manners of things.
Putting everything down on the table, Kafe sighed, enjoying the new quiet. G’raha looked over their unexpected late-night snacks, hand on his chin.
“Are you hungry, Kafe? Why don’t we make use of the Crystarium’s goodwill?”
Always up for food, Kafe’s ears perked and he nodded far too quickly. He personally didn’t have a knack for cooking, but he remembered the basket of sandwiches the Exarch had left for him before and immediately felt hungry. Lucky for him, the contents of the basket included such things to make even better sandwiches.
Not doing much to help, Kafe simply hovered as G’raha used the small kitchenette in the room, chopping and prepping. Kafe rummaged for drinks, avoiding the wine and picking out the carrot juice. He offered some to G’raha, who declined in favor of just water, and they sat at the table with their little meal and stack of books.
Kafe purred as he bit into the food, amazed at how hungry he had actually been. G’raha bit into his own slowly, instead watching Kafe happily eat.
“Full glad am I that you’re enjoying them. It didn’t take much, but I’m pleased to see you so happy with something so simple.” G’raha pointed out, shuffling in his chair across Kafe.
Shrugging his shoulders, Kafe finished chewing before he spoke. “I’m pretty sure I thanked you for them last time, but even so, I appreciate it. I burn things, I can’t cook them, unfortunately.”
“Have you ever tried?”
“Only a few times. It’s never worked out.”
G’raha chuckled. “The Warrior of Darkness, unable to cook. Is there a hobby you took up that isn’t cooking? I fear not everything was written down of your more personal life.”
Kafe took another sandwich, stuffing half of it into his mouth. “I like plants.”
Nodding, G’raha closed his eyes. “You grew up in more arid terrain, I recall. Until you made your way to Gridania. And even living there, surrounded by trees, you still took an interest in plants?” Kafe’s ears lay comfortably, and his tail curled at the tip. “Yes, being surrounded by forest puts me at ease.”
“So that’s why you were always looking over Lakeland. The violet leaves look truly stunning, don’t they?” G’raha mused, glancing out the window at the trees still glimmering under the meager moonlight.
Kafe shrugged, reaching towards the book pile. Many of them were thin, but a few were more sturdily bound. One with a dragon on the front looked quite well-worn and he absentmindedly flipped through it. There were a few drawings here and there, and he realized he recognized the penmanship.
“Ah, that one was written by Edmont de Fortemps, whom I’m sure you know fairly well. He wrote of you quite fondly. His pictures were lovely.” Piped up the other miqo’te, sipping at his water with a somewhat nervous look.
The picture Kafe fell on was a side profile of him; tousled hair, bundled up in a coat with Alphinuad next to him. They both looked positively miserable, and Kafe was amazed the Count had gotten those emotions across. It must have been when they had first arrived in Ishgard. The city and the people were equally as cold then and Kafe felt a guilty twinge when he couldn’t remember the last time he had visited just for the sake of visiting.
“Alright then, let’s see.” G’raha hummed, taking the book from Kafe’s fingers. “He wrote of your battle with Nidhogg saying you came out of it without a scratch, albeit looking exhausted.”
Kafe chuckled. Even if he had practically lived with the Fortemps, he didn’t want the Count to worry so he ended up keeping many wounds under wraps or as inconspicuous as possible. “I had a terrible bruise and a few broken ribs after that last bout with him. I didn’t want people to worry about me so I spoke nothing of it.”
Eye widening, G’raha seemed distressed. “Didn’t want them to worry? What if it had caused something more permanent?”
“I am surrounded by impeccable healers at all times.”
“Yes, but you are only…” As G’raha said that, he stopped.
“I had met you before any of this happened and it had been so brief. I knew you were a magnificent adventurer, but then… all of this.” He gestured to their pile of books, running a hand over a well-worn cover. “I knew you weren’t invincible, but the stories made it seem so. Even a Warrior of Light isn’t safe from the terrors brought upon by war...” His hand clenched into a fist, recalling the deaths that had been avoided.
“You’re just… a man trying so very hard to keep terrible things at bay.”
Spine tingling, Kafe stared at the Exarch. Hearing it from someone else brought relief to his shoulders, but a new kind of anxiety. He felt like he had crushed all of G’raha’s dreams when the man had seen him so close to falling. That strangely terrified him.
“G’raha-” Started Kafe, watching the other miqo’te’s ears tilt towards him. “I’m… sorry I’m not like the stories. They’re probably all magnificent and grand while in reality I’m floundering, wondering if all of it will be alright in the end.... I-”
G’raha abruptly stood up and put the book down, his expression somewhat… angry?
“I told you that’s nonsense. You are far more than these stories. They cannot even begin to compare to your true self. These volumes are meant for people desperate and hoping for a brighter future, and while they are true events, the man behind them is so… so much more. And I am honored to be able to stand with him.”
Shrinking back, Kafe lowered his ears. So much faith in him…
“Kafe.” That voice, filled to the brim with what could only be unconditional love, finally made him look up and gaze back at G’raha.
“When you called my name again, which I haven’t heard in so long… my gratitude felt amplified. You continue to and will always be my inspiration, Kafe.”
Eyes feeling wet, Kafe dipped his head again. “I’ve been so terrified of becoming a sin eater and learning other things have made me unsure of who I am. It… means more than you could know when you say these things.” He wiped at his eyes, bidding himself not to cry in front of G’raha. The man opposite him smiled warmly, looking a bit bashful.
“You’re safe, Norvrandt is safe. And it’s all because of your own self, please never forget that.” He said softly, reaching out his crystalline hand to place atop Kafe’s. Startled when Kafe gripped his palm tightly, G’raha’s ears twitched.
“Raha… truly, thank you.” Kafe said weakly, but with a confidence he could only barely muster. Becoming flustered, G’raha gave a little tug to pull his hand free which Kafe obliged almost a little reluctantly.
“I should be the one thanking you instead! You’ve done too much for just a simple word of thanks.” G’raha stumbled over his words, lacing his hands together nervously. Watching him made an emotion pleasantly bubble in Kafe’s chest, and he stared at G’raha.
“So have you.”
“Nothing of your caliber.” G’raha protested, started when he saw Kafe frown.
“You built all of this. You’ve saved people.”
The G’raha of the Source and the Exarch might have their differences, but they were still one in the same, and Kafe knew that the years of hoping and wishing and waiting had warped that personality quite a bit. But he still helped people, still strived to do good. And that would always make them the same.
Deciding that they could argue this for years, Kafe shook his head, shoving the book at G’raha with a steady gaze. “Read this to me. All of it.”
Knowing exactly what he was doing, G’raha sighed but smiled. “Of course. This is one of my favorites after all.”
Kafe tilted his head. “One of your favorites?”
“Well, all of them are my favorites.”
Flushing, Kafe settled his arms on the table, folding them and leaning his chin on them. He watched G’raha’s mouth as he spoke the page’s words, hearing Edmont de Fortemps in the writing but the miqo’te’s gentle voice. It was soothing, and he wished they had thought of this earlier. A few words caught his attention and he interrupted.
“I actually didn’t enjoy the dinners.” He said, a little tiredly. G’raha’s voice was putting him to sleep.
“Really? It says you were polite and jovial, albeit a little cautious in the presence of new company.” Pointed out G’raha, ears perked.
“It may be correct, but I was probably going through quite the panic. This was Haurcehfant’s father after all, and I was an intruder, per say.”
“I’m sure he didn’t think of it that way. He welcomed you generously.”
“He did, completely, and I can never repay him. But I blow things out of proportion for myself.”
And G’raha chuckled. “It seems you do.”