Chapter Text
All Mife’ra had asked for was a week of vacation. He had saved Etheirys and the worlds beyond again, the least he was owed was the ability to doze off on the beaches of Tural with his son tucked against him and Thancred dutifully adjusting the umbrella shading them by their side. He had sworn that the first person to interrupt his downtime was going to get a leg thrown at their head.
(Not the twins, of course. He would never strike one of them, he had sworn them as his own the day of their disownment.
…Likely not Y’shtola, either. He did not wish for death.)
As it was, Wuk Lamat managed to catch the prosthetic as it flew her way, unfazed.
“Fe’ra! Have you seen Erenville lately?”
Ears flicking in irritation, Mife’ra turned his head to the side, scowling. He knew that she meant well, but she had never really understood him, nor why it was prudent to be cautious with him. It’d been a few months, though most of that time had been spent on the boat to Tural, yet she never seemed to put together his flinches or hesitancy. She was no scion, and thus didn’t get what Alisaie liked to call the “big, scary woman” talk.
At least it didn’t seem as though she minded his hostile reactions. Small victories.
“Erenville?” Mife’ra wrinkled his nose, ignoring Zaze’li rubbing his temples for him to ‘stimulate his thinking’. “What, is Koana not wrapped around him?”
“My brother is the one that voiced the concern,” Wuk Lamat shrugged, setting the Ironworks-made leg down on the towel they sat on. “He says he has not seen him at all for the past two days.”
“How like the Second Promise - Vow of Reason - to fret,” Thancred mused, idly fitting Mife’ra’s leg back on for him.
“How very like Erenville to seclude himself,” Mife’ra retorted, rolling his shoulders back. “If you’re asking me to stick my nose in his business, fine. But you owe-”
“Three fish tacos!” Zaze’li sprung up, immediately clamoring at Wuk Lamat’s legs. “Each! Daddy’ll be grumpy otherwise!”
“I already put an order in with Aunt Tii’s!” The boy’s ears wiggled excitedly as a big palm ruffled his hair, “I knew I could count on you guys. I’m sure that he’s probably just having his so-loved alone time, but Koana seemed worried, so I’m worried with him.”
Smart to be, Mife’ra could not help but think, even as they rolled up their towels and gathered their things, heading to Aunt Tii’s. The last time he had seen Erenville the shetona had been staring down a bottle of mezcal as though the drink had every answer he sought. It was one of Mife’ra’s, but he hadn’t really enjoyed the flavor, and neither he nor Thancred drank like they once did. To Erenville’s credit he seemed plenty sober even after half of the stuff was gone, but Mife’ra knew full well just how easily some could hide how alcohol affected them.
“I know where he’ll be.”
Thancred only raised an eyebrow at him across the table, Zaze’li happily munching and ignoring their Serious Adult Business. Mife’ra had waited to grab the food first before speaking, knowing just that.
“You did get on rather quickly with him, ought I be worried?” The tease fell flat as Thancred leaned back, his eyes betraying his attention. “If you would rather I not supervise you, I can always try to keep the Vow of Reason from pulling his hair out over it.”
“That’s the best idea you’ve had in moons, Than. And you can take-”
“Nope! ‘Nowhere’s safer than Daddy’s side,’ remember? ‘Sides, I’m supposed to mind Uncle Erenville. You said so.”
Ah, yes. The ‘stick by Erenville’ rule he had imposed upon Zaze’li, instructing the mi’qitten to ‘keep Erenville safe’ so that both of the non-combatants would stay out of the way. “...Fine. But you stick close. If you’re even a tail’s length away-”
“You don’t think… Yyasulani? I… think I’ll step in here.”
“No…” Zaze’li whined, drooping over his plate. “I want to go!”
“You’re still afraid of storms, little one. It’s very dangerous there, even disregarding monsters. I’m afraid I’m going to have to be the responsible one and keep you here with me.”
“You can roughhouse and play with Wuk Lamat the whole time, since Thancred’s a delicate old man, ‘li. That fair?”
Zaze’li wrinkled his nose, the precocious child sizing up his fathers with a suspicious squint. “...Only if other-Dad can teach me more knife-throwin’ tricks.”
“Deal.”
Scarfing down a taco, pleasantly warmed by its heat, Mife’ra was glad to watch his son settle back into eating instead of arguing further. Erenville… hadn’t been quite the same since they returned from Living Memory, and he couldn’t really blame the guy. Erenville was only a few years younger than he was, himself, though not quite as young as the twins were. While G’raha had been a welcome little brother - the first male miqo’te he had ever met outside of his and Zaze’s sons - that dynamic had been somewhat undone on the First.
Erenville, however, minded his own business and enjoyed solitude. Mife’ra could easily get behind that. His interest in fauna stirred up Mife’ra’s own focus in flora, and many hours on the ship had been spent comparing notes and clarifying Turali flora for Mife’ra and Doman fauna for Erenville. They were pretty similar, Mife’ra thought, with one main distinction:
Erenville had a mother that loved him. One that was now known to be dead.
Mife’ra couldn’t imagine losing Shiqo, and she was only his elder sister, the closest to a mother he had had growing up. He had lost other people before, people he considered kin, or his closest companions - his tortilla cracked slightly at the thoughts of Haurchefant, Minfilia, Hydaelyn - and he had watched the family he had grown to love within the scions all perish at the end of the universe.
(Waking up from blacking out without Thancred in their number still haunted him. First Lahabrea, then his soul being taken in Ala Mhigo, and now death? He couldn’t bear to lose him again. Even the thought-)
Well. Mife’ra wasn’t as good at repression as Erenville was, but he wasn’t too shabby. He had watched him closely as their journey reached its end, reminded of when he had finally first broken down Alphinaud’s insufferable walls to comfort the scared child within.
Erenville was no child, but he was young. Mife’ra didn’t know much about viera and shetona, but he knew enough about their life expectancy. He was only in his mid-twenties - younger than Mife’ra had been when he had first gone to Ul’dah - and he had just lost the person he was closest to in his life.
Hells, Mife’ra would’ve slammed back all the mezcal if it had been Shiqo. At least Erenville was smarter than him.
But alone, isolating himself and likely in Yyasulani…
“I’ll answer any linkpearl calls.” The warrior of light stood promptly from the table, rolling his wrist until it cracked softly and picking up his cane. Thank fuck Cid had insulated it and his leg both, or else he’d never have made it through Yyasulani in the first place.
“If you don’t, I’ll be sending Alisaie in after you.”
“A fate worse than death,” Mife’ra murmured, pressing a kiss to Thancred’s cheek and Zaze’li’s ear both. “Better her than Shtola, I guess.”
“That’s if dear Alisaie can’t find you.”
He could only hope it wouldn’t come to that.