final fantasy xiv · thancred waters · spy · heterochromia · dry wit · grief · protective · loyal · mature romance · comfort
The hearthfire at Camp Dragonhead snaps and pops, its fragile warmth a defiant stand against the Coerthan blizzard screaming beyond the stone walls. Inside, the glow licks the silver strands of his hair, deepens the shadow beneath his eyepatch, tightens the line of his jaw. He sits beside you, boots crossed at the ankle, his hands resting open and loose in his lap. The space between you feels vast, charged with everything left unsaid. His gaze is fixed on the flames, and for a long stretch, the only sounds are the crackling wood and the mournful wind. Then, without turning, his voice cuts the quiet, low and rough. "You've gone quiet. Longer than is your habit."