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The smell wafting through Master Matoya’s cave was mouthwatering, enough that Y’shtola could tell that behind her habitual façade of belligerence Matoya was eagerly looking forward to the meal and was being about as polite as she ever got awaiting it.
“Oh, just hurry up and serve already.” She griped at the man responsible for the culinary display the three of them were about to consume. “It doesn’t matter how the food looks.”
“Plating is important.” Marcus replied in the slow tone of someone speaking the self-evidently obvious. He did not look up for the plates in front of him, carefully making minute adjustments to the noodle dish he had prepared, though Y’shtola couldn’t tell what, if any, purpose those adjustments had. It certainly looked good enough to her already.
Matoya scoffed. “It’s all the same once it’s in your mouth anyway.”
“Sharlayans.” Marcus said with a shake of his head, the word loaded with disdain.
Y’shtola stayed out of the bickering with equal parts amusement and strained patience. Despite the combative tones, there was little heat to the exchange. Master Matoya enjoyed complaining and arguing with people, and Y’shtola was enjoying having another person around to help weather her mentor’s vitriol. By now Marcus had gotten enough experience with the old, irascible woman that he could comfortably bicker back and forth with Matoya indefinitely, which spared Y’shtola no small amount of grief. It helped that Matoya liked him. For all her charming belligerence, the witch respected competence and the Warrior of Light had that in spades. Enough that Matoya hadn’t kicked him out the minute Y’shtola arrived at her cave with Marcus in tow, which Y’shtola had been mildly worried about.
Following the “disbanding” of the Scions, Marcus had accepted Y’shtola’s invitation to join her in traveling to Dravania. Master Matoya had groused and griped about her residence turning into a hotel, but Marcus had quickly won her over. Whether it was wrangling rogue familiars, collecting useful reagents, or clearing out the latest batch of monsters who had moved into Gubal, he demonstrated the usefulness in having a seasoned adventurer around in a way that even Matoya couldn’t argue with. But above all, it was his food that won her over.
Trained at Limsa Lominsa's famous Bismarck restaurant, Marcus had a world class pedigree as a culinarian. The one time the two of them had gone there together, Y’shtola had even overheard Lyngsath himself complaining that “the finest culinarian in Eorzea” was there as a customer, rather than an employee. Having had ample opportunity to try Marcus’ cooking, she could well believe the praise. After a few days of Marcus preparing meals for them, Master Matoya’s barbed comments about when he was leaving had ceased entirely.
More importantly than her master’s temper, Y’shtola was relieved to see Marcus was feeling better. He had not weathered the events of Ultima Thule as easily as he liked to pretend, and had been suffering from regular, and frequent, nightmares in the weeks following their return from the Sea of Stars. He hadn’t been willing to speak on as to what troubled him, and had even tried to banish her from his bed to pretend they weren’t happening, but given how perilously close he had come to death in that final clash, she had a pretty good guess as to what. Thankfully, since the Scions had gone their separate ways, his nightmares have been coming less frequently, it had been nearly two weeks since the last one. Though he was still cagey and reluctant to discuss what exactly haunted him so, Y’shtola was immensely grateful to see he was getting past it, if still a little annoyed at his stubbornness.
She suspected it was the change in scenery that did it. From what she knew of his adventuring career, it was no surprise Marcus seemed to enjoy himself when they were traveling through the wilderness of Dravania. Between the two of them they had enough effects that needed to be moved out of the Rising Stones (Y’shtola had not been aware her footwear collection had grown quite that large until she’d had to pack it up) that it would have taken several trips to move it all by themselves. Instead, they had loaded up Marcus’ trusty chocobo Colonel to the point that even the sturdy beast couldn’t bear a rider and travelled on foot through the hinterlands. Spending an entire day hiking only to camp outside for the night was not Y’shtola’s idea of a good time, but Marcus had been in a better mood than she had seen him for some time during the two day trek. No doubt he enjoyed a return to the simpler days when he was traveling the realm as a rookie adventurer.
Even after they arrived, his good mood endured, likely buoyed by the expeditions into Gubal giving him a chance to work off his accumulated stress in combat against foes that were hardly a threat to either of them by now. Y’shtola had made a point of staying near him in those first several weeks to help him unwind and destress. With the benefit of hindsight, she had likely been a mite overbearing at times but he didn’t seem to mind. He even seemed to be enjoying himself when they had settled in to the laborious task of researching how to travel between Shards, making a genuine effort to peruse the stacks of tomes alongside her despite academic research being far from his cup of tea. She would not have expected him to be happy to spend days poring over dusty old books, but from what she could tell from observing his incorporeal aether, he had been perfectly content to sit next to her reading for hours on end. It left her feeling much reassured, and willing to give him his space as she turned her full attention to unraveling the riddle before them.
Her reverie was interrupted by a plate clacking down on the table in front of her. “Boscaiola.” Marcus said with a theatrical flourish. “Enjoy.”
Y’shtola took a deep sniff as Marcus went back to grab his own plate from the counter. “It smells incredible.” She said, noting with wry amusement that Master Matoya was already digging in. Y’shtola politely waited for Marcus to join them before following suit, though it took no small amount of willpower not to join her mentor in scarfing it down. When Marcus did sit down next to her, the Boscaiola was well worth the wait. A delicious mix of noodles, mushrooms, and tomato sauce that went down so easily she was grabbing seconds within minutes, she privately thanked the Twelve she was dating such a talented man.
The discussion around the table was mainly between the two women, centered around some interesting theories about aether currents Y’shtola had come across in her search. A nice benefit to researching something as obscure as traversing the Rift, she was finding all manner of interesting tidbits as she pored through the more esoteric documents. Marcus tried to follow along but aetherology simply wasn’t his field and he quickly settled into a comfortable silence.
“Elementally aspected aether currents?” Master Matoya was saying dubiously. “Impossible. The great river is not a piddly little crystal that can be colored into a manifested form.”
“What about the currents running through regions that already have an abundance of one element’s aether? The Sea of Clouds and its extreme amount of wind aether, for example.” Y’shtola countered. She wasn’t sure she believed Trotesky’s theory, but she felt it shouldn’t be dismissed out of hand. With nothing to contribute, Marcus collected the now empty plates and passed them off to a froggy familiar before returning to the kitchen area.
“Bah.” Matoya scoffed. “Having large amounts of a certain elemental aether may change the state of nature in an area, but the currents themselves are something else entirely. Trotesky was a hack; he only thought he could unify everything into one grand theory because he ignored the scale involved.”
“Dessert, anyone?” Marcus called.
“Please.” Y’shtola answered, before turning back to her mentor. “I don’t disagree that many of Trotesky’s theories are overly simplistic, but some of them can be refined into viable ideas rather than dismissed outright.”
“Explain how you’d ‘refine’ thinking the Twelve exist as physical bodies in the material world.” Matoya countered, deliberately bringing up one of the most outlandish of Trotesky’s ideas.
Y’shtola gave the old woman an unamused glower. “Now that’s just sophistry and you know it.”
They continued to bicker, the discussion more a way to kill time than a serious debate. Marcus interrupted the argument by wordlessly placing confections in front of each of them. Y’shtola’s ears perked up at the sight of vibrant red dessert. She had a weakness for Snurbleberry Tart. And with Ishgardian Tea, as Marcus set a cup of the steaming beverage in front of her, no less. A quick sip of the warm liquid confirmed he had added the extra sweet cream she preferred as well. Merciful Thalik, the only reason Y’shtola didn’t think he was going to spoil her if this kept up was the realization that he likely already had.
“Delicious.” She said gratefully as Marcus brought his own dessert over. As tempting as it was to dig in now, it’d be easier to carry all this to her reading nook if she hadn’t started eating yet.
“Just wait.” Marcus replied. “Slowfix tells me they are going to get some quality ingredients in shortly. Then we’ll really be eating good.” He made regular trips to Idyllshire for food supplies and to check in on his retainer regarding his various goldsmithing commissions. Outside of a day he spent recently on a mining expedition that took him to La Noscea, it was about as far afield as he went these days and he always returned quickly. Y’shtola felt a small twinge of guilt at that. It certainly hadn’t been her plan to keep him cooped up in this cave, but that was how things were shaping up.
“They eat Poroggos.” Matoya said flatly. “The gobbos’ idea of ‘quality ingredients’ is not something I want to eat.”
“You just wait.” Marcus said with a grin. “I’ll whip you up some Sweet and Sour Frog Legs so tasty you’ll want to eat Poroggos too.”
“That would be quite the feat.” Y’shtola said drily, taking the saucer and teacup in one hand and the tart plate and fork in the other. Carefully balancing her cargo, she left the dining area. There was a large stack of tomes freshly plundered from the depths of Gubal waiting for her in the adjacent chamber and she was itching to get through them. Some of the volumes had looked promising from the cursory glances she had given them when she and Marcus had braved the monster infested library this morning and she had high hopes that at least a hint of a path through the rift could be found in one of them.
Wrapped up in her thoughts, she didn’t notice the frown aimed at her back as she left the room.
Y’shtola was halfway through J’rhak Tia’s Compendium of Forgotten Magicks when she heard Master Matoya clear her throat. She looked up from the list of frankly implausible spells J’rhak had claimed to have learned to see her mentor glowering at her from the other side of the cave spur Y’shtola was using as a study. She didn’t like what she saw. Gauging someone’s mood from reading the emotional resonances in their incorporeal aether was a skill she still struggled at, would likely always struggle at. Not only was simply seeing the incorporeal aether through the regular, corporeal variety difficult at times, it was only those to whom she had spent long amounts of time with after her change in vision, like Marcus and the other Scions, that she had a good enough grasp of how their incorporeal aether looked normally to tell what the changes meant. So, it was saying something that she could tell even from Matoya’s aether alone that the older woman was quite displeased.
“You need to deal with this.” Master Matoya said in that tone that Y’shtola had learned from well over a thousand lessons brooked no disagreement. Matoya curtly pointed with her staff back towards the main chamber and stomped off, at least as much as a woman rapidly approaching a triple digit age could. Y’shtola marked her page in the Compendium and rose, following her mentor. As she approached the other room, she heard a faint, rhythmic slapping sound. Brow furrowed in confusion, she rounded the corner and saw Marcus.
He was laying on an ad hoc couch formed out of stacks of old books and an unused table, repeatedly tossing something into the air and catching it. Even in the dim light, it glinted teal and Y’shtola guessed it was an uncut gem from one of his jewelry projects. Not noticing the new arrival, he let out a deep, tired sigh. From his unfocused gaze not tracking the rock as it rose and fell, Y’shtola guessed he was lost in thought. She also noted the proximity to Matoya’s favorite reading spot and, remembering her mentor’s irritability when it came to noises while she was concentrating, repressed a sigh of her own. Wondering why her normally so combative mentor didn’t call him out on being a distraction herself, Y’shtola called out to him.
“Marcus.”
It was amusing and, on some level, impressive. A normal man being startled in such a way would have likely jumped and dropped the gem. Marcus too reacted by bolting upright, but his hand snapped out towards the falling gem with blinding speed. The blue-green stone vanished inside his fist as if it had been swallowed by a striking serpent. He slowly turned to look back at Y’shtola, a sheepish, almost furtive look on his face.
“What is it?” He asked.
Y’shtola thought about how to say this. “Is aught amiss? You seem restless.”
“No, nothing really.” Marcus answered. “I was just thinking about something.”
“Perhaps you should stretch your legs.” Y’shtola offered. “A bit of activity can help you clear you mind and approach a topic with fresh eyes.”
Marcus considered that for a moment before nodding. “You’re probably right. I think there’s still enough daylight left for me to get some hunts in.” He often took on commissions for Clan Centurio, culling dangerous creatures from the nearby regions. Dangerous for other people, that is, but not the Warrior of Light. Y’shtola nodded her approval.
“A fine idea. I think it will do you some good.”
Marcus rose and, with a surge of light, summoned his arms and armor. With a parting nod to her, he headed for the cave entrance, Master Matoya taking a dim view of people teleporting within her home. Speaking of the older woman, she was lurking by her crystal ball giving Y’shtola a decidedly unamused look. Y’shtola didn’t disagree with the sentiment. She knew this was not a solution, nowhere near.
These displays of listless energy from Marcus were becoming more and more common. Y’shtola prided herself on not being as irritable as her mentor, but her own patience was beginning to fray as typically he was fidgeting in her space rather than Matoya’s. He would insist on sitting down with her to go through some tome on her behalf, then spend most of his time tapping his feet and staring off into space. Every so often she’d meet his eyes and he’d flinch, go back to making a show of reading only to drift off and start blankly staring in her direction again. Or he wouldn’t even try for the pretense of researching, but he’d still be hovering around her corner of the cave, engaged in some pointless busywork. She’d already had to ban him from doing his goldsmithing around her, the delicate ring of his hammer incredibly distracting.
The problem was obvious to her. He was, put simply, bored out of his mind.
Really, it didn’t surprise her. He was an adventurer. He lived for seeing the world, testing his limits, having new experiences. None of which he was getting in this cave. Y’shtola sympathized. She too enjoyed being out in the world, exploring and learning new things firsthand rather than in dusty books, but she had the patience to go through those books to learn where to go next while he, clearly, did not. She appreciated that he’d given it a good-faith effort, but clearly this wasn’t working out. And while she’d given some thought to it, there was really only one solution that came to her.
He needed an adventure and he wasn’t going to find one here.
She put it off for a couple days, reluctant to have the conversation they needed to have and unwilling to say goodbye yet. But as Marcus continued to fidget around the cave and Matoya scowled with increasing intensity at both of them, Y’shtola knew she couldn’t put this off any longer.
She was in her reading nook, Marcus sitting cross-legged on the floor nearby playing Triple Triad against himself; he’d already beaten all the Poroggos to the point they refused to play against him. Y’shtola looked over as he grumbled something about the ‘stupid plus rule’ and decided it was time.
“Marcus?”
“Yes?” He looked up immediately at her.
“I love you.” He brightened, mouth curling into a wide smile.
“I love you too.”
“I am glad you are here with me.” And she was, truly. Not just for his sake, though she’d been glad beyond words to see the shadow that had loomed over him after the events of Ultima Thule had faded away, but for her own. She enjoyed not just his company but even his mere presence. As a younger girl, she had scoffed at the idea of fairie tale romances, and yet here she was with simply being around Marcus making her feel content and happy.
Marcus was beaming with happiness and she felt a stab of guilt at what she was about to tell him.
“I am happy we can both go forward with this next phase of our lives together.” Y’shtola added. She needed to make it plain this was only going to be temporary. Marcus’ smile was dimming and his brow furrowed. She was not normally this profusive with her affection and he could tell she was leading up to something. She decided to face the music and just say it.
“But you need to get out of here.”
The smile was gone, replaced by a hurt frown. Y’shtola hurried to elaborate. “You’ve been fidgeting and lurking listlessly around this cave for well over a week now; it’s clear you are bored to tears with this research. I appreciate your help thus far, but you going stir crazy here shall not benefit either of us. You’ve been bothering Master Matoya and disrupting my own studies with your restless energy.” She softened her voice, aware she was lecturing. “You clearly aren’t enjoying being cooped up like this. Go out, stretch your legs a little, find a new adventure to pursue while I wade through this morass.” She tapped the tome in front of her for emphasis. “When I finally have a lead, we can meet back up and pursue it together.”
Marcus was silent for a long moment, his face guarded. Even the way his aether was coiling around itself was something she hadn’t see before and couldn’t decipher. “Is that really what you want?” He finally asked.
Y’shtola got up from her seat, walked over to him and knelt so their eyes were at a level. “If you tell me you want to stay here, I’ll accept it without complaint, though I can’t make any promises for Master Matoya.” She added ruefully. “But I think you are a man of action and you will be a good deal happier if you shake off the cobwebs and treat yourself to some excitement rather than linger here for my sake. You will always be welcome to return whenever you wish.”
Marcus sighed and broke eye contact to look past her. “I suppose you’re probably right. I guess I have been distracting you lately.”
Y’shtola gently took his chin and leaned in close. Her lips met his in a gentle kiss and he wrapped his arms around her to pull her close to him. When they parted, she was relieved to see the hurt in his eyes had faded some.
“You are the best kind of distraction.” She told him. She straightened up and with a sly smile put her hands on her hips. “Now get out there, hero. Twelve know the realm is likely falling apart with its Warrior of Light trapped in the witch’s cave, while the wicked sorceress keeps him for herself.”
“I can think of worse fates.” Marcus rose, smiling again and left to go pack. Once he was out of sight, her smile faded. That had been uncomfortable, though she was glad she had said it. He would benefit from some time on the road, she knew, and even though she would miss him it would only be for a short time. This was for the best.
This was for the best, Marcus told himself as he tightened the straps on his pack, lips still warm from Y’shtola’s goodbye kiss. He was standing outside the entrance to Matoya’s cave, trying to decide on where to go. He had been in Dravania likely too long as it was. A trip back to Ul’dah was long overdue; Rizalle had been very patient with him, carting the raw materials he needed for his goldsmithing projects to Idyllshire and bringing the completed jewelry back to the markets of Ul’dah but it was unfair of him to expect her to do that indefinitely and there were certain stocks of materials he would need to replenish himself.
That would kill at least a few days and after that… he wasn’t quite sure. There were always brush fires and problems the Flames could use help with, but he wasn’t really feeling like going back to being “Lieutenant Dorne” right now. He supposed he could check in on everyone, see how things have been going for them. The twins have been hard at work in Garlemald while he’s been lazing around here, after all, and Tataru was likely getting lonely with all of the Rising Stones to herself.
“Patience is not always a virtue, boy.”
Marcus turned to see Matoya slowly walking down the path towards him. He cocked his head in question and she fixed him with a pointed look.
“You know Shtola well enough by now to know she won’t notice anything not printed in a volume sized tome. Moping around in her proximity waiting for her to notice you pining after her was never going to work.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Marcus replied, flushing a little.
Matoya rolled her eyes at him. “You’ve been mooning around my cave like a lovelorn idiot since the day you got here. It was amusing at first, but between you having the assertiveness the gods gave an anemic squirrel and Shtola having not changed a bit since her training days, you two have become incredibly frustrating to watch. You’ve been all but bouncing off the walls waiting for her to show you some affection but you can’t bring yourself to initiate? For gods’ sake boy, make a move once in a while.”
“This from the woman who was very explicit about there was to be ‘no carnal relations under my roof, thank you very much.’” Marcus retorted, quoting the old woman’s words in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. He hadn’t thought he had been that obvious.
Though he hadn’t been fishing for affection like Matoya seemed to think, he couldn’t deny he had been hoping for it. When they had first arrived in Dravania, Y’shtola had been atypically attentive. Without the looming threat of the Final Days, she seemed happier and more open, oftentimes going out of her way to stay close to him. She had insisted on coming with him to deliver goods to Zhloe, for instance, even when he had offered to go alone so she could continue her reading. But, as time went on, this faded and she began to spend more and more time with her books. It wasn’t that unexpected. Once she sank her teeth into the research, she got absorbed in it. He didn’t mind that, but he had gotten used to seeing her sweeter side and couldn’t help but be disappointed now.
Still, he understood. They had come here with a purpose, to find a way to travel between other Shards. He knew Y’shtola would like to be able to return to the First to check in on the Night’s Blessed and both of them had an interest in seeing new worlds, after all. If she wanted to knuckle down and concentrate on that, it seemed not just childish to interrupt her with his flirtations but also ungrateful. Twelve knew he wasn’t going to be much help in figuring this out. Best thing he could do was stay out of her way and let her work in peace, something he’d apparently been doing a poor job of.
“I’ll pretend you didn’t just insult yourself by saying you’re only interested in Shtola for the sex.” Matoya stamped her staff for emphasis. “Believe it or not, I didn’t always live with only Poroggos for company and I’m not so old my memory is going just yet. I can still tell a man with wicked intentions from one with innocent ones just fine. Just like I remember what color that rock you’ve been playing with for the last few days is.” Her voice softened, a miniscule amount but from her it was significant. “I admit, I’m impressed you matched the colors so closely.”
Marcus pulled the uncut gem from his pocket. It had been a trial, getting his hands on this. It had taken a long lunch with Y’mhitra that he had awkwardly spent staring into her eyes to memorize the color, then an even longer time scouring Aquamarine deposits for something with just the right shade. And then after he found it, suddenly he balked at actually doing the crafting, unable to settle on a design or even if he wanted to include this color of gem after all.
“Was I that obvious?” He asked ruefully.
“To anyone paying a modicum of attention, so your secret is safe for now.” Matoya replied. “I know just how serious you are about Shtola, which is why it’s all the more aggravating when you keep dancing around her.”
“She’s busy, and I don’t want to impose on her.” Marcus answered. He tried for a deflection. “I’m surprised that if it’s been so frustrating to watch us, you didn’t just say something to Y’shtola.”
Matoya gave a raspy chuckle. “I have been told in no uncertain terms that Shtola doesn’t need my input or help in her relationships. She’s made this bed, so she can lie in it.” She rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe that even after I made a point of bringing your mooning to her attention, she thought it was wanderlust. What am I going to do with her?”
“To be fair,” Marcus put in, “She’s not wrong. The sedentary life isn’t really for me.”
She ignored that and gave him an appraising look. “You really think it would be an imposition? Take it from someone who knows, Shtola has it bad for you. If you could work up the spine to put a move on her every once in a while, you might find something appealing about this sedentary life.”
Marcus decided he did not want to keep having this conversation with his girlfriend’s mother. “I’ll think about what you’ve said, but I still intend to depart for now.”
“Hmph. Meaning you’ll let my words go in one ear and out the other so long as they graze your empty brain along the way? Do as you wish boy, it’s your life.” Matoya turned to leave, then looked back. “Oh, and before you go…”
“I left a list of recipes with the Poroggos.” Marcus preempted her.
“Ha!” She laughed. “Oh, if I were ten years younger, Shtola would have some competition.”
“More like fifty.” He said.
There was a long, pregnant pause. With a dragoon’s agility, Marcus threw himself backward in a bounding backflip, clearing the space he had been standing an instant before the air was engulfed in flames. He landed lightly and quickly turned and leaped away and in an instant he was gone, leaving behind only the echoes of his good natured laughter. Matoya lowered her raised staff, a second spell dying uncast. Despite herself, a small grin had sneaked its way onto her face.
“Cheeky little bastard.” She said to herself, then turned to go back inside and join her brilliant, talented, but oh so dense pupil.