FFXIV Write - Day 9 - Fair

FFXIV Write - Day 9 - Fair

Early ShB spoilers

Halone's frozen tits, this is the FUCKING worst. Celeste groused to herself, massaging her feet with oils after yet another long day in the Crystarium.

None of the other Scions decided to remain here, I've become the errand girl for the Crystalline Mean, and to add insult to injury, I'm not even here because I was WANTED or NEEDED. I was just a bloody casualty in the Exarch's attempts to reach his real target, Xander. Because of course it's Xan. It's bloody well ALWAYS Xan.

She threw aside her gauntlets in disgust as she recalled the sheer reverence in the Exarch's voice as he 'apologized for the inconvenience of her summons' and told her of his intentions to bring the Warrior of Light across the Rift. Suppose I should consider myself fortunate that he even knew who I bloody well was, though hells if I know how he knew of me. But GODS, this isn't FAIR.

She flopped back on her well-appointed bed in the Pendants, staring at the ceiling. Even despite the curtains she'd drawn shut, Light leaked into the room, all but blinding to her bleary eyes. Can't even have the decency of calling me directly, and now I'm run off my feet just trying to help the city run smoothly.

[You could just say 'no'.] Fray's familiar voice rumbled from the corner. [You're under no obligation to help these people. This isn't your world, and they're not your concern. You could just while away the hours until your comrade arrives.]

Celeste sighed at her other self's words, laying her forearm over her eyes as she delivered her rebuttal. "No, I can't. My world or not, it's where I'll be living for the foreseeable future. And these people need my help. Plus, I'd be bored just waiting around for Xan to drag his arse over here. And, well... if he doesn't show up..."

While he'd been sparse on details, the Exarch told her when she arrived that her Blessing of Light would be crucial in the days to come, should his summons fail again. Which meant, more than likely, that if Xander didn't show up the next time the Exarch tried his little 'expanse contract, eon become instant' ritual, that she'd become the linchpin to his plans to save the First. If he didn't arrive, then the burden of saving this world would fall upon her.

The thought of truly carrying the world's fate across her shoulders alone sent a chill down her spine. If she wasn't up to the task, how could she ever face all the people she'd volunteered to help since her arrival here? How could she face the Scions? Herself?

...is this what it's like for Xan, I wonder? All this running about like a headless dodo and this relentless pressure to perform acts of heroism?

She shuddered.

Maybe I haven't been fair to him. All this time, I thought he just got off on the plaudits and the praise and all that rot. That he loved soaking in the attention being THE 'Warrior of Light' got him. ...but maybe, in his heart of hearts, he feels as scared and alone as I do right now...

Considering that possibility made regret squeeze around Celeste's heart like a vice. Though she'd long since forgiven him his priggish behavior before entering Ishgard, and he'd done likewise for her behavior after their arrival, she'd not really let go of her resentment that he'd stepped forward as the face of the group. A face that wouldn't have been nearly so charismatic without her help in tailoring his approach to his audience.

Him stepping into the healer's role and offering his critiques from his limited experience only solidified Celeste's anger and bitterness at being replaced within their merry group. And that wasn't fair to him either, when he'd simply wanted to expand his knowledge base and offer assistance. Then again, it hadn't been fair to her to expect her to simply accommodate him changing roles on a whim back then, either.

As her reflections on the past gamboled over one another in her head, a knock on the door startled her from her thoughts.

"M-Mistress Celeste? I was told to come and fetch you post-haste. You have a comrade waiting to see you at the markets."

The duskwight all but catapulted herself from the bed at the hailings of the elezen- elf, they were called elves here- who worked the front desk. She didn't dare to hope, to believe that it might actually be him, but she had to see.

She threw on some clothes and offered a hurried apology to the young lad as she barreled right past him and charged full-tilt for the Musica Universalis. She only stopped running when she passed the Market Board and saw a familiar head of blond hair seemingly having a little chat with Bragi, jotting notes down in that ever-present Codex of his.

When at last he finished taking his notes and took his leave of Bragi, Xander paused in the busy marketplace, staring right at Celeste as if in disbelief.

She didn't know who started running for the other first. All Celeste knew was that she had her arms wrapped tight around her friend while he practically sobbed into the bodice of her dress.

"...sorry- all my fault- here because of me and it's not fair-!"

As Celeste ran her fingers through his carefully styled hair to comfort him, the thought she'd tried to keep buried for nearly six moons came rushing forward to stab at her heart. If we don't succeed here, then he's going to die.

As unfair as her circumstances were, as much as she bitched and moaned about being dragged into this entire affair, Celeste knew one thing for sure: Abandoning her friend to die in whatever future Urianger glimpsed from the Rift would be the most unfair act of all.

And she would never allow it to happen.

things i have seen/experienced working in a toy store:

• a customer asking me if boys like coloring

• a customer telling her daughter she can’t give out ice cream stickers for party favors because there will be boys there

• an older couple laughing about how there’s a pink toy sword because a boy would never play with a pink toy sword (because i guess boys can’t like pink and girls don’t play with toy swords. also it wasn’t even pink it was red lol)

• a customer refusing to buy a snail robot kit for his nephew because it was “too cute for a boy”

• a customer sharply reminding me she was buying a gift for a boy when i suggested play food

• a customer telling her daughter she needed to pick a different birthday card for her friend because the one she chose had a pink envelope (her friend was a boy)

• a customer asking what a boy would like for valentine’s day instead of the stuffed dogs she was getting for the girls

• a customer getting upset when my coworker used blue ribbon on a gift bag because the present was for a girl

• a customer saying a toy guitar was “too girly” for her grandson, based only on the fact that the box had a picture of a girl playing with it (the guitar was red with yellow music notes)

but yeah, trans people have some real weird ideas about gender

i still miss him. if you even care

it's been said before and i'm sure said better than i can phrase it. but really, really - if you like making "i'm going to kill myself" jokes, please try switching to being ironically conceited instead.

anytime something goes wrong, say things like "ah well at least i'm beautiful and charming and everyone loves me." when you forget something, try "my big huge brain is so smart and thinking about too many other very big wizardly thoughts you wouldn't even understand." when you're frustrated by one of your symptoms, start talking like you're in My Immortal. "Life has come for me but my eyes are beautiful pools of gorgeous fire and my hair is amazing. I stuck my middle finger up at life and told it to fuck off and it did."

just... try it for a month or two. try saying the most absurdly self-congratulatory shit you can think of.

i know it's tempting to make suicide or self-harm jokes. and for me at least, a decade ago (!) when someone suggested i stop making those kinds of jokes, i was kind of at a loss for what to replace them with. i wanted to make light of these moments, but genuinely (at the time) my first thought really was suicidal ideation. there was a part of me that even felt like ... i was kind of "making light" of that voice. that if i could say i want to die lol, it would help take the sting out of that genuine (albeit passive) desire. like i could turn my illness into a joke.

when i started complimenting myself instead, it felt awkward and stupid. it felt really, really ironic. what i was actually saying was nobody would ever think this stuff about me, that's what makes it so fucking funny.

but. the effect was immediate. first thing i noticed was the people around me. when i dropped a glass and said ah my skin is too beautiful and sleek the glass has swooned and broken for me, other people were suddenly overjoyed to jump in with the joke. rather than making an awkward moment, we'd both start cracking up. ah princess sleek hands, i've heard of you.

i was 19. i hadn't noticed i'd been making others tense when i said i want it all to end. i know now that it's incredibly hard to know how to walk that moment - do you talk to them about your concern? do you potentially make them uncomfortable by asking if they're okay? do you ignore the situation? do you help them pick up the glass, or do they need to do it by themselves? are they genuinely made suicidal over this small moment? and most importantly, how do you - without professional training or supplies - actually help?

most people want to help you pick up the glass in your life, they just have no fucking idea how to do it. they don't want to make anything worse. they don't want to make assumptions about you. they love you, they're scared for you - and being scared makes people kind of freeze up. it's not because they don't love you. it's because they do.

now when something bad happens, my first thought is how can i make a stupid joke about this. it isn't my brain saying you're a dumb fucking bitch. i spend more time laughing. i spend more time being gentle with myself. i spend more time feeling good.

and the thing is - what's kind of funny - is that you'd be surprised by how many people agree with you. the first time i said i'm too pretty to understand that, someone else said to be fair you're the prettiest person in this room. i promise - you really don't know how kindly your friends see you. but they love you for a reason. they sort of reverse-velveteen-rabbit you. your weird and ugly spots fade away and you just become... the love they want to give you.

go love yourself ironically. the worst thing that happens is that you end up tricking your reflection into actually loving you.

Adhd will have you too burnt out to eat or shower but give you the hubris to decide you can homebrew an entire d&d system on the back of a receipt

I'm having a great time