Chapter Text
A light groan escapes the Viera, sapphire eyes opening blearily, her voice thick with sleep as she questions the towering Garlean man who stands beside their bed in the dark of the very early morning, “...you want to what?”
Zenos informs her flatly, “Resume my physical training.” Large bare feet pad over to the light switch near the door as he continues, “The necessary amount of recovery time has passed since awakening here. I must resume my morning runs,” he places a large palm over the slight softness of his abdomen after he places her hairbrush that he was holding into the pocket of his dark red, floor length sleep pants, “...as well as the daily honing of my muscular structure.”
Violet yawns into the air, “Well–” the fixture that hangs from the ceiling lights up as she hisses behind her teeth, scrambling for the blanket to cover her face with a groan, “So long as you don’t main or murder anyone in the process, go ahead.” A freckled hand peeks out from beneath the blanket to grab a pillow, placing it over her head and rolling over to her side as she grumbles, “...and turn the bloody light back off.”
His tone was commanding but low, it wasn’t an order but it also wasn’t a request, it was a reminder. “You must accompany me, remember?”
She had dared to hope to sleep in today, the aches about her body still felt after his exhaustive affections the afternoon prior, but it appeared that would not be the case this day; and of course, he required far less sleep than her, much to her recent vexations.
A muffled, but incredulous sigh fills his ears after a moment. The green blanket that covers her flies down as she sits up– the thick wave of her burgundy hair cascading around her shoulders as her tall ears stand in attention, sapphire eyes wide above the freckled cheeks of her copper skin and her full lips– nose scrunched and brows furrowed as she barks back, “Do you understand how early it is?” The blanket flies to the edge of the bed, “You do remember what we’re doing today, riiight?” His long black shirt reaches her knees and hangs off of one of her shoulders as she stands from the bed in a huff of annoyance.
The Garlean man's gaze softens as he looks to where she stands by the bed, her hands stretching far above her head as she wills the stiffness of sleep from her bones– the edges of her soul always bathing her exquisite form in a resplendent glow. To Zenos, she shone brighter than the sun– “I have not forgotten.”
She rolls her eyes, “Mhm.” Shoulders slump as she walks around the edge of the bed to the nearby armoire, he continues, “It is of exemplary coincidence that the conclusion of our required amount of recovery time coincides with this most arduous and… insipid of days.”
“Oh yeah?” She yawns once more before retrieving a set of garments for herself, a twinge more annoyance in her voice this time, “And why is that?” She mutters under her breath as she pulls the shirt from overtop her head, “...acting like you know everything all the bloody time.”
“Physical exercise is good for alleviating anxiety, it improves the quality of sleep, increases appetite…” She slides her long, smooth legs into pants of tight black fabric, the soft leather of her running boots, “...also been shown to help improve…”, she wraps her breastband around her chest, Zenos still speaking as he follows her around the room, “...facing a foe on the field requires the utmost…” The Viera sits to begin brushing the long wave of her deep burgundy hair pinning it in a messy bun at the back of her head once finished, “...no better way to hone your arm than…” She chuckles low, it’s almost endearing to hear him gush on a subject, freckled hands apply her mascara and eyeliner, her makeup routine was simple, tried and true. She stands, feet returning her to the far side of the bed to put on the flowing green top she had retrieved as he still follows close behind her, still talking, “...to hear the clash of steel as a red sun rises…” She walks to the nearby sofa, flopping onto it unceremoniously as he stands in front of her, his disquisition finishing with a question, “...surely a skilled combatant of your caliber can appreciate this?”
Her right hand comes up to rub at her brow, sapphire eyes screwed shut as another yawn escapes her. She looks up at him, still standing barefoot on the floor in his sleep pants, shirtless with his long golden hair still mussed with sleep, a question in return for him comes out after another yawn, “Why aren’t you dressed yet?”
He retrieves the hairbrush from his pocket, offering it to her as he extends his hand.
A defeated but amused huff leaves her as she softly smiles, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the couch, she accepts the offered brush with an upturned palm, “Go ahead and sit.” She parts her knees as he flumps himself onto the floor, back turned to her as she brushes his hair, cerulean eyes crinkling at their edges.
She knew this was not going to be a pleasant return to exercise, it’s been several months now since they awoke on Etheryis, and the last weeks of their newfound intimacy have been… strenuous, and for Violet to say that Zenos was a man possessed of large appetites would’ve been the understatement of her life. Nothing about her was ever enough for him– whether it was the “welcome sear” of her touch, the pools of deep sapphire that lived in her eyes, the soothing and dulcet tones of her melodiously husky voice when she hummed, the intoxicating combination of scents, lilac, and her musk that lingered in the air when she was gone from his presence, her warm lips gliding over his, fire burning in her chest and soul alight when they clashed. How he cherished and indulged in the way her soul beamed in his vision, his light– he’s a man entranced by her in every way, always seeming as a moth inexorably drawn to a flame.
Unfortunately for Violet, the run he’s taking them on through the tall forests that lie behind the safety of the white stone walls of Old Sharlayan proves to be exhausting for her. It is of some significant relief to her to be outside though, the frigid winter passing as the much more agreeable temperatures of early spring have returned, one of her favorite times of the year. The smell of comforting petrichor from the rains earlier in the morning filled her nose as she heaved and struggled for breath through the forest, lagging far behind him– his hair pulled into a tight ponytail at the back of his head, swinging to and fro as a pendulum does. Loose-fitting black pants and his form-fitted black and sleeveless turtleneck disappearing from view as he crests a hill ahead of her, what a daunting sight it is to her now.
The soft leathers of her boots stop, hunching over as her hands go to her knees and she loudly pants while her eyes peer at the small stick and bark chip-littered dark mud of the path she stands on, her lungs burning– and in stark contrast to his, her hair is in a much more disheveled state. The loose burgundy waves that were securely pinned now lie askew, flopping to the side, the hair that remains pinned tugging at her skin when her feet make boots make contact with the soil as she stands straight once more, groaning as hands rub over the ache in her abdomen beneath her shirt– the wounds from their encounter after their clash with the Endsinger have healed, but the pains rear their unwelcome heads now and again, but less and less as the days pass by, thankfully.
The wings of returning spring Swallows fly and scatter from a nearby tree in a chirping mass at the sound of his words as they bellow out from the forest ahead of her, and the Viera swears she can hear the taunting smirk he undoubtedly wears, “The tottering sound of your footfalls is unbecoming. Increase your pace, beast.”
She near growls through her clenched teeth, tall ears pinned back in anger as sapphire eyes glare towards the sound of his goading words, the tone a favorite of his, far ahead of her in the forest. She mutters under her breath as a hand swipes away dirt on her shins, “..show you tottering.”
She stretches her legs, pulling the soles of her feet flush with her back as she grumbles, “You wake me up at four in the morning…”, her spine popping and cracking as she rolls her shoulders, “...drag me out into the forest…”, nimble and freckled fingers quickly fix the pins in her hair, “...so much to bloody do today…”, scarred hands tuck her green shirt into the waist of her tight pants, “...just take off ahead of me…”, smooth-muscled, scarred and freckled, copper-skinned arms reach down to pull her boots up, "...making me chase after you..." a deep inhale filling her lungs as her adventurer’s heart returned to its steady thrum, rolling her neck as she exhales, bent arms and swinging at her sides as her feet begin to carry her forward.
She bounds past the puddles leftover from the rain in her path, her smaller feet sometimes landing in the much larger imprints left by his boots in the soft mud. Her long legs bending as she runs around rocks just from the path, footwear quickly becoming caked in mud. Hands running along tall, dew-drenched ferns at the edges when she’s close enough, savoring the cool breeze on her flesh as she wipes the sweat from her forehead with the back of her arm.
A rumbling chuckle echoes in the forest ahead of her.
Booted feet carry her faster, heartbeat steadily increasing as a wide smile graces her face, she hates it to admit it, but he’s right.
She feels… alive in a way she hadn’t in recent months. Pushing through the pain in her legs and hips to feel the cool morning wind pass over her skin as she raced further down the path. Her senses near full of the forest around her– the smell of dirt and earth underneath her feet filling her buttoned nose as deep breaths fill her lungs, sapphire eyes taking in the moss-covered boulders that rest under rays of the rising sun in the forest, her tall and befurred ears flicking to the sound of the wildlife that lives deep within the old growth of pines, birches and oaks as it skitters and scurries when she trips and falls when her boot catches on a root, landing on her side in a large puddle of mud with a splash and a surprised yelp.
She tastes mud on her tongue and feels dirt and mud caking her face and side as she moves to her feet with a groan. The Viera is completely splattered in thick, deep brown mud, bits of sticks and pine needles riddled through the goop and she loudly screams into the air above her in frustration, her turn to make the nearby wildlife scatter and flee in panic. Huffing an exasperated sigh as her hands move to rest on her hips, she lightly leans on one leg, lightly panting in exhaustion, ashamed of herself for the outburst.
Tall ears flick to the increasingly loud sound of boots splashing in puddles of rainwater on the path ahead of her. She loudly scoffs as he becomes clear in her vision, gesturing towards him with a flick of her wrist as she blurts out, “Of course…” The hand falls to loudly slap against the wet mud on her pants as she dejectedly scoffs, “He’s totally fine and I’m…” she trails off as she gestures broadly to her mud-covered, sweaty, disheveled self, “...this.” Sapphire eyes look up to him, the Viera frustrated as she watches him get closer to her, the blush in her cheeks can’t help but appear at the sight, “...big dolt doesn’t even have a bloody hair out of place.”
Large black boots come to a stop next to her as a blonde eyebrow quirks, full lips smirking while cerulean eyes peer down to her through his blackened lashes and over his proud aquiline nose, “Did you intend to meet your savage comrades while wearing the forest floor?”
Sapphire eyes blow wide as her mouth falls agape, she was the one to forget. “Shit !”
Frustrated, she turns to face him in an instant, hands shoving at his chest with force as she shouts up at him, a smirk still crossing his lips as her face contorts in anger, “You know we have to go to that Eorzean Alliance meeting today! Now we’ll be lucky if we’re not late!”
As she turns to rush back down the path towards the city, a large hand grips her wrist, pulling her back flush against his chest as long arms encircle her, pinning her hands to her chest in one hand while the other holds pins her by her full hips. Long blonde hair cascades around her as he leans down to purr into a tall ear, pressing his body against hers as he notes the familiar pulse of arousal that begins to grow within her vivid golden hues, “There are… other forms of physical exercise that we could engage in…” she snarls as he leans down farther, his lips hovering near the mud-free side of her neck, “If you would prefer that to this insignificant meeting?”
Insignificant?
She rolls her eyes, she’s not falling for it this morning, sighing as she questions him in return, “Why are you trying so hard to get out of this?”
His grip on her wrists loosens slightly as flat words come out, “It is pointless.”
She sighs again, her head leaning back against his shoulder to look up at him, “It is not pointless, Zenos, it is required of you. You agreed to this…” A copper-skinned hand frees itself from his grip as she squeezes his fingers in her hand, “I know you hate wearing that thing…”
Blonde brows furrow and cerulean eyes narrow as he looks to the path ahead of him, the sound of the daily scurry of people building in the harbor below them annoying to him as a hum of disagreement rumbles from his broad chest to vibrate through her back.
He doesn’t resist, too much at least, when she frees herself from his grip, offering him a pityingly small comfort as she turns to face him when she stands up straight, “We’re probably going to miss most of it anyway…” she gestures to her mud-covered self once more, “...considering that I now have to bathe.”
He sighs dramatically, cerulean eyes vacantly looking into the forest, tone snide and entitled as he utters, “A superfluous congregation of savages that I am made to attend.”
Tall ears stand in attention, tufted tail twitching when she barks out at him, “You know I hate it when you say that.”
“Oh?” he asks as he quirks an eyebrow, a smirk pulling at his lips once again as he peers down at her, the golden fire of her soul glowing brightly when large, calloused hands clasp behind his broad back and he drawls out, “When I say what?” Full lips near her tall ear when he leans over, “Savages?”
Freckled hands land on her hips, sapphire eyes looking up at him through blackened lashes while her mouth twists and the corner, words low and enunciated, “I am not doing this again,” a mud-covered and freckled finger points over her shoulder to the path behind her, “Let's. Go.”
The time they spend dressing after her bathing is spent nearly the same as most other times the pair is alone– Zenos constantly trying to touch her or invade her space, asking her questions or spieling about a tome he had been reading while she tries to complete tasks. However, this time is different in that Violet is choosing to ignore him, focusing instead on getting ready for the meeting they will undoubtedly be late, for rather than entertaining his entitled behavior.
Most things were irritating or tedious to Zenos, rarely did something vex him- the occasions never more confounding and nettling to him than when Violet was upset. The vibrant golden hues of her normally scintillating soul now dulled, her color muted, the embers in her chest smothered under the weight of whatever grief she carried. He abhorred seeing the light of her soul dimmed, the color fading from his world as she silently moved throughout the room, refusing to meet his eyes with her own as she handed him boots– his garb had changed as well, trading away the form-fitting black top her wore for the billowing white shirt he often chose to wear when venturing to warmer climates with her, he detested the heat of the air that awaited them at their scheduled destination.
He doesn’t yet know how to reignite the cooling embers of her soul with words that aren’t goading or enticing to her, and he’s come to realize that doing that when she is acting in such an inane way only seems to make the light dim further, something he tries so hard to avoid. Zenos was a very learned man, dedicated and studious, articulate and extremely well-read, but being able to recite the entire history of the Garlean Empire from memory like a trained hound, or being able to recount to her, in great detail, on the ‘Correct way to properly temper various alloys and forge blades’ is not helpful when dealing with a displeased and downcast lover.
She throws on a hooded cloak over the flowing white skirt, and strapless green top she wears. At the same time, the burgundy wave of her hair falls to cascade over her freckled and love-bitten shoulders. She scowls at him– the ankle-length skirt embroidered with small, delicate flowers along the hems with strappy green sandals wrapping her dancer's feet, her garb under the concealing robe also appropriate for the destination. A tired sigh falls from her full lips, ears listing to the side under her hood as she flops down onto the padded seat of the Bonanza, ‘former’ Scionic-coinkeeper and seamstress Tataru Taru’s current pride and joy, the airship lifting as she and her two passengers begin their south-eastern flight.