Work Text:
Having been spirited away on a tropical getaway had been such a treat, if even only for a day. It also felt like a punishment as J’asper fell back into a routine of running missives for the Scions, addressing business he had in Limsa with the Rogues, or seeking out work through steamy nights in Ul’Dah. He desperately missed Thancred, who once again was awol through his own work. It drove J’asper wild with anxiety the more days he went without hearing anything - he’d even resumed pestering Minfilia and the others to see if they had heard anything from the rogue that he had missed. To his dismay, none had heard from the man since they’d returned to the Waking Sands, much later after their beachside tryst.
J’asper found it difficult to roll out of bed that morning, the ray of sunlight coming through the shaded window beginning to warm him slightly behind his level of comfort, urging him to detangle from the covers and at least move to someplace cooler within the commune. He had been better since returning at trying to take a day every week or two to himself; he selfishly wanted to run himself ragged to see if Thancred would be called back to punish him, but realized that only put Thancred and the others in harm’s way with repeated distractions. As such, today he intended to stick around the Sands, perhaps catch up on some research he’d started into ancient Allagan linguistics - but otherwise keeping a low profile.
Out of routine, he sifted through what clean clothes he had available, choosing a fresh pair of pajama pants, a loose fitting button down, and slippers. He had no one he was trying to impress, and after having caught Tataru dancing about in her nightgown the other night, hair a complete mess without her typical beret, he felt he wouldn’t be out of place in such a getup. Once dressed, he grabbed the only tome he owned, and prepared for the common room.
He opened the door to the smell of breakfast cooking, realizing he was actually up quite early as had become custom on those days he had ample responsibilities. Allowing his nose to guide him, he sauntered to the kitchen where he found Tataru humming to herself as she flipped breakfast sausages on the stove, reaching over occasionally to stir at a pot of oats. The mixing scent of birch syrup from the oats and smokiness from the sausage was enough to torture J’asper’s empty stomach, the thing letting out a rumble that even caught Tataru’s attention.
“Hope you’re hungry,” she beamed, beckoning for him to sit at the breakfast table. “It’s almost done, we can all eat together!” she practically squealed. J’asper thoroughly enjoyed how contradictory her moods could be, light hearted and almost child-like when offering her support to the scions, scarily serious and chastising whenever someone crossed her, and otherwise diligent in whatever work she was doing. There were many times he wanted to snitch on Thancred for things he’d said, or done, for no other reason than to see him weather the lalafell’s ire. He didn’t, as the rogue knew how to get himself into trouble well enough on his own. As he sat at the table waiting, he found thinking about Thancred soured his mood, anxiety once again replacing the pleasant smells.
His thoughts were interrupted by several sets of footsteps as Minfilia, Urianger, and Y’shtola joined for breakfast, a surprise as he hadn’t heard Y’shtola was back from Limsa. “Y’shtola!” he exclaimed, excited to have a chance to catch up.
“J’asper,” she said, in her usual dry tone.
“When did you get in?” he inquired.
“Late last night, I need a respite from those damned pirates,” she said, rubbing at her temples. She glared at J’asper as he laughed. “You should know,” she shot at him.
“Aye… but you forget that I very nearly joined em,” he said, not helping his cause.
She sighed, “then you should be well aware of how insufferable they can be.” She sighed as she sat down, subtly sniffing at the air no different than the rest of them eagerly awaiting sustenance.
“Urianger, how’s the research coming along?” Minfilia asked, turning to the Elezen.
“Steadily enough, ‘tis of deep concern that mine research fails to learn aught of thine paragon concerns,” he confessed. “Scarce information is permitted through mine texts, nor do the Students have aught they can proffer,” he continued.
“It’s as I feared,” Minfilia mused.
“What is?” J’asper said, ears perked at the mention of their dark-robed adversaries.
“Their recent involvement in summoning and other activities are unprecedented,” she said. “Or at least done without an elaborate ruse to hide their responsibility for such manners.”
“Aye, as fate would have it… The empire grows bolder with intent to strike alongside an unnatural, uncountable foe,” Y’shtola added quite severely.
Minfilia shook her head, “all is not lost,” she reminded them. “Surely Thancred will uncover much needed information - his skill harvesting information, even from unwilling interviewees, is renowned.”
“He aught to be careful,” Y’shtola added. “If he’s tormenting the beast tribes, he’s like to force another summoning,” she concluded.
“Why would you say that?” J’asper moaned, resting his head on the table.
“‘Tis the pattern we’ve observed,” Y’shtola continued, failing or ignoring the topic J’asper apparently did not want to breach. “Their faith is a balm to their torment… to them a primal will deliver them from whatever ails them - most often mankind,” she explained. “While I have faith our rogue is using discretion, ‘tis not unlikely that too much tough encouragement will result in another massing of Amalj’aa,” she finished.
“I know… I know…” J’asper groaned, refusing to lift his head as a whole new set of scenarios raced through his head: Thancred being tempered by Ifrit, Thancred being thrown into a wall of flames, Thancred’s face replacing the poor sod who’d been trampled by the Amalj’aa… he shuddered at the thoughts, struggling to ease away the new wave of anxiety.
“‘Twould be advantageous for us to venture towards more promising topics,” Urianger offered, taking pity on the miqo’te. “Word was received last evening that thy request to expedite the construction of Vesper’s aetheryte hath been received,” he said, looking at Minfilia.
“That’s wonderful!” she exclaimed. J’asper couldn’t help but perk up at the news, realizing his days riding chocobos from Horizon back would soon be behind him. “Did they say when they will begin?” she asked.
“Negative, ‘twas assured to me no more than a moon shall pass before further instructions shall be sent,” he said.
“Well, that’s better than where we were,” Minfilia added, looking at the silver lining.
“Time for food!” came Tataru’s singsong voice, distracting the party from their previous discussion. She sat down a platter filled with sausages, another plate holding biscuits that simply looked divine, along with various pastries, eggs, and a gravy to go with whatever one chose.
“Looks terrific,” J’asper said, absent-mindedly licking his lips, earning a chuckle and blush from Tataru.
“I hope so, I didn’t wake up early for nothing,” she laughed as she took her seat, only to stand right back up; “I almost forgot the orange juice!” she squealed as she raced back to the kitchen proper, grabbing a pitcher of what J’asper assumed to be freshly squeezed orange juice. “There we are,” she said, sounding satisfied with herself.
“You treat us too kindly,” Y’shtola said as she stabbed several sausages to place on her plate.
“Nonsense, I’ll not have Eorzea’s heroes going hungry.” J’asper blushed at the honorific, not willing to accept any of his deeds as more than necessary for his own survival, hardly heroic. “Now, no talk of primals or creeps in ill fitting robes,” she commanded, pushing the conversation onto more pleasant matters. It was difficult not to venture back towards more serious matters with their shared goals - but J’asper found time to share his recent quest to learn ancient Allag, catching Y’shtola and Urianger’s attention with the comment. Tataru shifted back to her longing to pick up a new hobby, running through a list of things she wanted to do - even though she’d yet to try any of them.
Conversation naturally dissipated as they took to eating, enjoying the bountiful variety of food before one by one they shifted back to their own tasks. Eventually Y’shtola and J’asper were left alone, the two miqo’te’s eyeing each other as though waiting for the other to say something. Eventually Y’shtola folded, “so, you and Jacke?” she said, offering a smug smile at J’asper’s instantaneous blush, ears folding against his scalp.
“What of it?” he spat out, desperately wanting to know how she’d found out.
“I had the pleasure of having lunch with him the other day… for being a rogue he is quite loose-tongued. Spoke of a miqo’te fellow he’d met in Costa del Sol, said he failed to pin him down as a lover - took him on as an apprentice instead,” she said, face much too stoic for J’asper’s comfort.
“And, and that led you to think it was me?” J’asper inquired, the Sisters of Edelweiss well known for taking in many miqo’te among their numbers.
Y’shtola laughed, almost a mocking tone; “how many escorts turned rogue do you know?” she smiled.
“More than you’d think,” he sighed thinking of friends lost in various ventures.
“Well, I knew but one… and none described as having, and I quote: luscious long hair, ears that couldn’t stand still, a small stature which demanded protection, and an apt for mischief.” J’asper blushed more fiercely, never having expected that Jacke had developed such an emotional attachment, nor that he could wax such lyrical phrasing - his tendency for local dialect making romanticism difficult to convey.
“It still could be someone else…” J’asper whined.
“But your reaction more than confirms my suspicions,” she observed, closing her eyes as she took a sip of her juice.
“What were you doing meeting with Jacke, anyways?” J’asper asked, suspicious.
Y’shtola took a deep breath, annoyance clear on her face. “‘Twas a reconnaissance to Costa to learn information on Leviathan… I mistakenly dressed for the warm environment, shirking my jumper for something more comfortable, and the fool of a man mistook me for a local pleasantry.” J’asper couldn’t help the boisterous laugh that sounded, tears quickly coming to his eyes at Y’shtola’s expense. When he dared look up at Y’shtola, he recoiled at the murderous gaze she held, hardly blinking as she waited for him to finish his nonsense.
“‘M sorry,” he mumbled coyly.
“As you should be,” she said matter-of-factly. “”Twas only half way through our lunch that I learned of his intent… I almost feel bad for the boy.”
“Gods… what did you do?” J’asper inquired, a bit of sincere concern for the man.
“Let him down as a scoundrel should be,” she said, clearly not willing to go into more detail. “He’ll be fine,” she added.
“I should hope,” he thought aloud, thinking it may be time to return to the team both to catch up but also to make sure Jacke wouldn’t be out of commission too long. As he thought about the conversation, he realized that Y’shtola had quite stoically mentioned his work as an escort, another wave of anxiety rushing over him. “How… how did you know I was an escort?” he dared inquire, readying himself against a response that surely would not consider his sensitivities.
“Why else does one hold business hours in the late evening in Ul’Dah of all places?” she followed up.
“I just… don’t advertise it, for obvious reasons…” he said.
“Obvious reasons?” she inquired, apparently they weren’t that obvious he thought.
He took a deep sigh, “I didn’t want it to interfere with my work with the Scions… and Limsa proper is quite restrictive, on approved forms of labor,” he started.
“Why would it impact your work with the Scions?” she asked, failing to see what he thought was a conflict of interest.
“Surely it would tarnish our reputation to have hirable entertainment joining the ranks…”
Y’shtola rolled her eyes, “work is work… unless an innocent is harmed or exploited in the process, no moral value applies.”
“That… that’s refreshing,” J’asper sighed, feeling relieved that of all the Scion members he worried about the most, Y’shtola was proving to be non-judgemental… at least where it mattered.
“In the post-calamity world we find ourselves, prudish idealism, such as what is found in Ishgard, holds no place. It seeks to restrict for naught other than to control… foolishness,” she sneered.
J’asper had heard of Ishgard, heard many vile things that happened there to people who disagreed with the orthodox church. He tried not to pass judgment on another’s belief, but firmly held that when beliefs - not vital towards the continuation of mankind - were held to such lofty standards, innocents were harmed… or worse. “I hate to think how I’d be received there,” he pondered aloud.
“Instantly branded a heretic,” Y’shtola said without hesitation. Before J’asper could reply, “all of us would be…” she added.
“Oh?” he inquired, not thinking any of the rest had blemishes on their reputation.
“Aye… Urianger’s parents avidly studied the occult, a forbidden study in Ishgard, unless conducted by the church to further their advances against dragonkin. Thancred, well, much the same as you, will actually permit himself to enjoy the more simple pleasures of life, hardly fitting the restrictive lives demanded of the church’s followers… Myself, a dragonkin sympathizer, questioning the reasons why their war drags on as it does. Minfilia as our head would be guilty by association. Papalymo partakes in black magic, heavily forbidden within holy walls. Yda may very well be the only amongst our ranks who wouldn’t be immediately set upon… but given time and her untamed tongue, would be found guilty for some arbitrary crime.”
“Wow… you make it sound like survival outside of Ishgard’s walls is itself a criminal offense,” J’asper condensed.
“Essentially… Though it is sorely hypocritical, their nobility are permitted all forms of debauchery, as long as enough gil can be provided to silence unintended witnesses.” She finished off her orange juice, setting the glass down forcibly as she worked through the rise of anger the conversation elicited. “We’re a band of misfits… people who could not or would not subscribe to the ideals set by individual city-states. We see our mission as superseding that which The Admiral, or Syndicate, or Seed Seer would set for their respective geographies.”
“Suppose I shouldn’t be a member of the Maelstrom?” J’asper tentatively said.
“That’s not what I said,” Y’shtola replied dryly. “They are in dire need of help, rightfully deserving of help… That does not mean, however, that Eorzea’s best interest is within their ideal interests.”
“And we do?” J’asper asked, not as a critique, but as genuine curiosity.
“We prefer to think so,” Y’shtola said. “None make efforts to take into consideration all of Eorzea’s constituents, beast tribes included.”
“Even though they summon eikons?” J’asper asked.
“Aye, even then… for we must ask ourselves why they would resort to such dire efforts - knowing what it may cost them in the end.” This somehow made sense to J’asper, who had often felt poorly when tasked by the Maelstrom to take care of a Sahagin threat, which turned out to be nothing more than fish folks surfacing too close to the city proper and being tagged for termination.
“I… see,” he mused.
“Our job shall remain to silence the primal threat, but doing so will require more than fighting them head-on. We must quell the source of such sentiments that elicit the need to summon.” She took a moment to look J’asper over, as though making sure he was following. “Long has it been our job to uncover the mysteries which others would have concealed from us. ‘Tis the best part of the job, uncovering a mystery which leads to an unconscionable amount of new information.” J’asper smiled at the note of excitement that accompanied the thought of there being more to learn. “I’ve a meeting with Urianger momentarily to discuss recent findings, you’re free to join… though do not feel pressured,” she offered, rising from her seat.
“Thank you,” J’asper said, “for everything.”
“Think naught of it,” she said, offering a rare smile.