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Erenville had a nasty habit of observing people the same way he observes animals.
He watched the people around him with the trained eye of a gleaner, unintentionally crafting ethograms in his mind to describe their behaviors in a way he could parse, categorize. Wuk Lamat has always been the easiest, with her wide, honest eyes and emphatic way of gesturing when she speaks. Her tail sways back and forth when she excites, her upper lip draws back in agitation to show her teeth and gums, her claws flex when she’s anxious. It would take no expert to pick out each of her tics— and he’d known her nearly her entire life, thus making her isms come all the easier to him. She hadn't changed a bit since last he saw her.
Krile, the scholar and Student of Baldesion, snorts when she laughs and covers her mouth every time she does, without fail (researcher’s speculation: perhaps self-consciousness). She stands a handful of fulms from those taller than her when speaking to them. She fiddles with her earring when she reads and frequently tucks her hair behind her ears, which then falls again within minutes. She reminds him of a dwarf rabbit, despite her feline coat hood always pulled up over her head (further speculation: easily overstimulated).
The Leveilleur twins have both shared habits like that of a species, and wholly unique ones between the two. Both have twitchy ears (added context: often observed in young Elezen, more rarely in adults), both wrinkle their noses when they smile, and both have a tendency to sleep leaned against the nearest person or object— usually each other. Alisaie, however, picks at her nails frequently, while Alphinaud bounces his right leg incessantly as he sits.
Erenville didn’t mean to do it, but he was good at it. Long expeditions alone, years of experience assessing the behaviors of his focal animals, would have an effect on anyone. But he becomes unsure of himself when he watches Velvet.
She is unlike anything he’s ever seen, in a way that confuses his categorical mind. The closest thing he could compare to might be.. something aquatic? Jellyfish, maybe? Her slender dancer’s body moves through air the way a gentle current carries cnidaria, with a weightlessness to it that entrances. Long hair and long limbs like tendrils that reach out and wrap around prey, akin to some species that live near shorelines and make meals of small mammals that stray too close. He’d convinced himself he stares especially hard at her because she perplexes him.
Frankly, she was not within his purview. She was the student(?) of the star’s retired savior, Maeve Bishop. Erenville had met Maeve during her nosing about in Sharlayan and she was nice. That comment makes some of his co-workers laugh; he’d met the Warrior of Light and helped in some small part to save the world during the Final Days and all he could say was that she seemed like a fine lady. She created some charities in Sharlayan that had aided refugees of Thavnair and Garlemald in the aftermath, and that was commendable, and she sought him out specifically to thank him with such sincerity in her eyes it made him squirm a little. To him, his role in that story was not worthy of even a footnote or citation. That was a few years ago.
Sometime in the interim, Velvet appeared. She was tall and thin, long-eared as any Elezen, perhaps even moreso, and she had a certain air to her that made people watch her and her mentor with awe anywhere they went. Rumors aplenty made their rounds in Sharlayan, especially among the gossipy gleaners coming and going from their expeditions. The Elezen woman, she was to be the next Warrior of Light. She was hand-picked by the savior of the star. She had some immutable quality to her, made up of the same stuff as her mentor that meant only she could carry on her legacy. Where did she come from? From her features, some would claim Yanxia or elsewhere in the Far East, while others would point out her lack of said accent and her distinct head of red hair in argument. How had the Warrior of Light found her and taken her under her wing? She was a fallen star, a gift from the Twelve, some other hyperbolic notion about her lack of clear origin.
He was not one of these awestruck gossips. He was a researcher.
Erenville had met her during those years, finding her in Sharlayan’s library one day by chance. She had— has— a smile that warms one faster than any drink, and he felt it in full force when she addressed him by name and then grinned and giggled (observation: laugh is similar to excited chattering of red foxes, and ears perk notably) at his confusion. Maeve had told her of him, for some inexplicable reason, and she had remembered the name and greeted him whilst pulling a thick encyclopaedia from the shelf that looked too heavy for her.
The two ran into each other many more times after that. Her mentor gave her errands in Labyrinthos, but he felt she did it happily to explore and see the incredible flora and fauna. She asked questions, genuine and curious and intelligent questions that occasionally surprised him. He got the impression that she had been somewhat sheltered before she’d met Maeve. They became more acquainted with each visit, but only surface knowledge was shared. Velvet was surprisingly enigmatic, the way he never knew much more about her or where she came from by the end of each visit; meanwhile, she always asked the right questions to get him talking about whatever he was working on for longer than he thought he would.
He quashed the tiny hope in his heart that she would keep returning so he could learn more, but never stopped wondering if this would be the last time they'd meet. He would keep an eye on her to make sure no undue distress came about from her presence, but all he found was the animals and plants strangely attracted to her, like a flower righting itself to face the sun. Maybe he was just like them.
Nothing had prepared him for his long-standing childhood acquaintance Wuk Lamat to suddenly reappear in his life like a flash flood, washing him away in her questions and bids for aid. She needed help and wanted him to come home to Tural. Try as he might, he wouldn’t refuse her. And this new Warrior or Light (note: never actually referred to as such, only as an adventurer, or her successor; taxonomic issue) lined up readily to come with at Wuk Lamat’s request.
This was all to say that he did not ever envision himself sitting here in Velvet’s room, in the For’ard Cabins of Tuliyollal, watching her. The cabin reserved for him had been damaged recently by the weather and wouldn’t be ready for his stay, the innkeep regretfully informed, and Velvet had spoken up faster than he could, offering up her room to him. His heartbeat had stuttered, but he remained outwardly neutral on the matter and agreed. There were plenty more places to sleep in the roomy cabins than just the bed, and he spent much of his time at work on the ground in nothing but a sleeping bag. The sofa would suit him just fine.
“They left fruit for us,” Velvet observed with delight as she wandered the cabin. She picked up a green fruit with bumpy skin from a bowl and turned it in her pretty fingers. “I’ve never seen some of these.”
“Cherimoya,” Erenville supplied helpfully. “It tastes like custard.”
That piqued her interest. He saw she was about to take a bite out of its skin and within the same moment, held out the end of a pocket knife towards her. She stopped, gaze moving from the fruit to him, and accepted the proffered tool. She flipped it open and cut into the fruit, taking little care in being careful of her palm, and thus its pale flesh and dark seeds were exposed.
Velvet came closer to return his knife, then sat directly next to him on the couch, shoulder to shoulder. This was the only time she appeared smaller than him, with her shorter torso and slight frame. In reality, her long legs made her a few ilms taller, a fact he couldn’t help but always note when she stood close. She offered him half of the cut fruit with a grin.
“Show me?” She asked with a little humor to her voice. Despite her apparent lack of knowledge of the world, she never seemed embarrassed of the fact, nor embarrassed of anything else about herself. Shame was not a part of her repertoire— or if it was, she hid it quite well. He took his half, fingers brushing hers. She radiated heat like a hearth, strangely so.
Erenville did as asked, first by cutting both their halves into quarters so they were easier to eat, then by taking a bite of the sweet flesh. A large seed sat in his mouth after he swallowed, which he picked out and deposited in an ashtray nearby. He felt her eyes on him and his ear twitched as if to flick them away. Something about her undivided attention made him wither, a plant receiving too much sunlight and burning up.
She bit into hers and instead of picking out the seed, she blew it out and giggled with satisfaction as it landed perfectly in the tray. Erenville scoffed, amused. He took another bite and followed suit, blowing it into the ashtray with the precision of someone who played this game often with Wuk Lamat when they were children. They continued like that, shooting seeds into the air in hopes of scoring some invisible points by landing them in the goal. Velvet was a formidable foe, but Erenville was more experienced in this type of warfare and had bested her by the time they’d finished their slices.
“This place is beautiful,” Velvet commented while Erenville cut open a second cherimoya for them to share. “Why did you leave?”
“My mentor tasked me with seeing all I could of the world,” he answered, keeping his gaze away from her. “That goal lended itself nicely to taking work as a gleaner for Sharlayan. Why did you come?”
“My mentor told me to do the same. Māma, as well.” She picked at her clothes, a light cotton tank tied in various bows in the back. “She told me to see the world, before she left.”
“Your mother left?” Of course he was reminded of his own mother, her constant adventuring that left him in the care of the village women. He always asked to go with her, but she refused until he was older and wiser. Much of what he’d accomplished up to now had been from that push, with a mix of love, childish spite, and an insatiable inquisitiveness.
Velvet answered with a light hum. “She’s gone now, with the rest of my family— except for an uncle. I can't see them anymore, but they're still around in their own ways.”
A surprisingly dour story, one with much more to it than she was saying. Her ears tilted down slightly, then perked back up as she shook her head.
“Is that how you came into the Warrior of Light’s tutelage?” Erenville asked. She was an adult, though, not some orphaned child needing a caretaker. She shook her head again.
“I followed Maeve because I wanted to.” Velvet pulled her knees to her chest, folding her body in a way most would find uncomfortable. “That’s all.”
“.. Tural is a decent place to explore if you’re just looking for adventure,” Erenville tilted his head and gave her two more quarters of a fruit. “Better than wandering Labyrinthos for the fiftieth time, I would say.”
She smiled and nibbled thoughtfully at a slice, her gaze drifting out to the rising moon reflected on the ripples of the ocean in the last vestiges of sunset’s light. It gave him a prime opportunity to watch her from the corner of his eye, see the way her expression had something of a nostalgic tinge to it. Missing her family, he figured. He felt an inkling of the same.
“I’m happy to go wherever you go,” she said softly, the verbal equivalent of a slap across the face. His eyes widened, his back straightened a little, and he was relieved she didn’t turn to look at him and see his unfiltered shock. “I would like to see the world, but not alone.”
Alone was all he knew during his travels. He relied solely on himself and his own knowledge, and it served him well for years. Other people only complicated that. Her desire for companionship was foreign to him— for his pitiful excuse for companionship, even moreso. But here they were, sharing a room in Tuliyollal, side by side, enjoying a quiet moment together.
He was enjoying himself, he realized. No mental footnote to explain why. He just liked her presence, her indelible warmth. The thought rolled around in his mouth like a black seed, needing further inspection before he could spit it out.
“I would be glad to show you around. The nightlife here has always been quite active.” The words escaped him before he had any time to consider. What was he saying? As if the nightlife in the city had ever appealed to him. But the thought of experiencing it with her sent a tiny, secret thrill through him. Her surprise showed on her face when she turned to him, dark eyes sparkling with delight. Tendrils that reach out and wrap around prey.
“I’d love that,” she said with a wide grin. “Let’s go now.”
“Now? We’ve only just–” Erenville looked down at his half-finished slice of cherimoya. Before he even processed it, she’d grabbed his wrist and pulled it to her, took a great bite of his fruit, and spat three seeds consecutively into the ashtray, all landing within it with little tink tink tinks. He balked, mouth hanging open stupidly.
“Right now!” She laughed and pulled him off the sofa by his arm.
He would never be able to keep up with her. Not that he planned to— a researcher need only observe, not interfere. But Velvet would prove difficult to keep proper distance from.
He kept his word, of course, and showed her around. Tuliyollal was a big city, such that even sticking to only the market stalls gave them a lot of ground to cover. Her bright grin and enthusiasm for every new food she smelled endeared him, admittedly. Most of all, so used to the boundless energy of Wuk Lamat, he was surprised that she never ran off without him. Whenever something caught her eye, she brushed his arm to direct his attention to it as well, wishing to share in the discovery before she went to it. He liked that.
Velvet was admiring a stand of intricately beaded jewelry when Erenville’s ears perked a few seconds before hers did, both following the sound of music through the murmurs of the night crowd. Tumbadoras and a horn or two, by his guess. Though typical to hear street musicians playing at nearly all hours of the day, it caught Velvet’s interest intensely. He could tell she wanted to bolt in the direction the music floated from.
“We could go listen, if you—“ He began, and was cut off as she grabbed his arm and set off down the path, only a mildly perturbed “ah” leaving him in response.
They moved with the current of the crowd, getting closer to the source of the music with each step. As they did, Erenville began to recognize it was much more than humble street performers entertaining a handful of onlookers.
People were clapping, cheering, singing, and most of all, dancing. Fast footwork on the cobblestone, couples whirling round and round each other like a kind of gravity held them together, glittering beads of necklaces and bracelets catching the lights. There were onlookers, but more and more who watched would eventually give in and find themselves within the swirling surge of celebration, dancing and singing all the same. Erenville, too preoccupied with watching the merriment, didn’t notice Velvet had joined them until he saw her: a blaze of red and gold and long braids being taken by the hand by a tall Mamool Ja and spun around while she laughed and whooped.
Of course she would want to join in. He didn’t mind watching her for a bit, though he had a sneaking suspicion she would not soon tire of her spirited dancing. He folded his arms and shifted his weight onto one foot, tapping the other to the music, tilting his head with a small, helpless smile.
Velvet was a whirlwind, her skill so obvious even some of her companions were distracted by her and cheered and clapped to her footsteps. Each movement was both passionate and completely effortless, both elegant and explosive. Right now, she reminded him heartily of a few tropical bird species native to Tural with bold, colorful feathers and elaborate mating dances like on display here. For all her weightlessness, body flying through the air with each jump, she might have very well sprouted wings.
She couldn’t have known any of the traditional dances in Tural, but picked up their steps so instantaneously, any onlooker wouldn’t know it. It was a real skill she had, one that he couldn’t help but respect. Or maybe respect wasn’t the right word for the burning in his chest while he watched her twirl and laugh with the other dancers, switching partners every few heartbeats with ease.
The music reached a new high, spurned on by the louder cheering— drums beat, maracas shook, a guitar strummed ever faster, faster in the time of claps. Velvet spun, arms making wide arcs around her while she came closer, then stopped abruptly in front of him, hand extended to him.
Erenville stared. Velvet grinned, hair in her face, breathing harder. Her eyes twinkled like stars.
Of course he would say no, fold his arms and turn away. He swore he would’ve.
He took her hand.
Into the flurry he was pulled, mind reeling as Velvet led their dance. She guided him with such ease, a hand taking his, another spinning him, then catching him around the waist to dip him like many of the other partygoers in pairs. A problem had instantly presented itself: Erenville was no dancer, feeling stiff and awkward next to her ardor. She was a perfectly crafted vessel for dance and song, and he was just himself. He should have been embarrassed and pulled away as soon as he was back on his feet and his vision stopped spinning.
And yet, she made it seem so easy. He was swept up in it, in her. Completely.
A rogue chuckle left him, as if the him that she brought out was enjoying this. Who was this person? The look on Wuk Lamat’s, or his mother’s face if they saw him like this— oh, they would never let him forget it. But in this crowd of faces, he was comfortably anonymous. He was merely the man standing next to the brightest star of all, shielded by her brilliance, and that suited him fine.
Lantern lights danced in his eyes like they, too, were part of the revelry, and it was then he realized he was terribly dizzy and maybe a little delirious. He reached blindly out to Velvet and found her shoulder, then her arm, and pulled. She steadied him with a hand on his waist and guided him until they were out of the center of the clearing and into the onlookers. Erenville wasn’t lucid enough to appreciate it, but Velvet was giving light smiles and thank yous to people as they got out of their way, leaving a path though the gathering.
“Are you alright?”
Her voice was soft and close to his ear. Worried?
“Was my inexperience that obvious?” He asked half-jokingly while he caught his breath and moved away from her hand, trying to compose himself.
“No. You danced well,” she answered, shaking her head with a grin. “You didn’t have to indulge me.”
“Yes, well..” Erenville gestured, but he had no real response. She was right. He didn’t have to, but he did.
He focused on her face and found a strange expression there, a slight twinge to her brow that made her smile less warm and more.. melancholic? He almost convinced himself he was seeing things that weren’t there until she shook her head again like clearing a thought from her mind.
“Did you want to continue looking around?” She asked and folded her hands behind her back.
“I..” He glanced around, seeing plenty of stalls they hadn’t yet visited. He was tired, yes, but not keeling over. Straightening his posture, he nodded. “Sure.”
Velvet hummed sweetly in response and stepped closer to be at his side. “You lead.”
These night markets were a staple of the city he had rarely indulged in when he passed through. When he did, it was usually to get a solid cup of coffee and a snack to keep him awake. He’d missed the coffee from Urqopacha dearly after leaving Tural, having never found anything quite as deep and rich in Sharlayan or Eorzea. A coffee tender was what he kept an eye out for while they wandered, and it didn’t take long for him to spot a small Pelupelu manning the stand.
Velvet seemed to have followed his gaze before he could say anything and drifted towards the stand to visit with the merchant. She spoke with her hands, gesturing and waving them about in complement to her charismatic grin while the two conversed like old friends after the briefest of introductions. Erenville stopped, waited, then walked after her to hear what she could possibly be talking so much about with a complete stranger.
“And my daughter, Aída— she just turned ten, such a fussy age you see— she told me she didn’t want to be involved in the family business! I told her she couldn’t just be rid of what her parents, and her grandparents, and so on, have built, but she would not hear it, said it was too boring and old-fashioned,” the Pelupelu merchant rambled on, crossing his arms with a deep sigh.
“She could come around to it if you show her what it is you love about it, yes?” Velvet continued, as genuine as ever. “Could you show me?”
“Of course!” The merchant grinned wide and moved to retrieve two cups of drip filtered coffee that had been prepared while the two chattered like jungle birds. Erenville sidled next to Velvet, giving her a questioning look, to which she returned with a contented smile. The merchant finished their drinks and slid the two stoneware mugs across with a clap of his hands.
Velvet raised the mug to her lips, but idled to breathe in the rich aroma. Only when her eyes glanced over to him did he understand she was waiting for him to grab his mug as well. He nodded politely to the merchant and took a sip once he was sure it wouldn’t scald, and his companion followed in his lead.
The flavor of home was something Erenville hadn’t realized how dearly he’d missed until now. His lashes fluttered shut as he savored it, the bloom of satisfaction in his chest, this simple comfort. The murmur of the market returned to him and the moment passed as his eyes opened to see both the merchant and Velvet staring at him. His brows furrowed immediately, and a defensive frown turned the corners of his lips.
“What is it?”
“That’s what you have to show her,” Velvet answered, speaking to the merchant. “Have you brought Aída to a night market before?”
“No, I suppose I haven’t.. I’d thought she would take up some of the production of the coffee, the planting and roasting and somesuch. You think she would like the peddling of it?”
“You can’t know for sure, but I think she might if she sees the joy it brings to people firsthand.” She sipped from her own mug with a knowing smile while the Pelupelu man cupped his chin thoughtfully.
Erenville relaxed once the conversation shifted away from him, glad not to be examined so closely. He recognized the hypocrisy in that. Velvet was different from him, though— she had such an inviting air about her that strangers couldn’t help but want to spill their life stories to her, and she seemed to enjoy it. He’d seen it during her trips to Labyrinthos, several of his co-workers falling under her spell. She clearly didn’t mind being seen, from her moment in the spotlight earlier.
But to see her was not to know her. That, he was certain of. The fact that she was so chatty, so genial, so gods damned warm, yet still so unknown to him bothered him more than it should have. Was her behavior all a farce? To what end? And why did he care so much?
He was shaken from his thoughts when Velvet plucked at his sleeve. She tilted her head towards a quieter area where a couple stalls had already closed for the evening, and Erenville could only watch as she wove effortlessly through the crowd as if it were water. He turned to pay the Pelupelu man, but received a good-natured shake of the head.
“Your lovely lady already paid, friend. Just bring back the mugs once you’ve finished.” He chuckled and made a little shooing motion with his hands. “Have a good evening!”
Erenville felt the urge to correct the merchant, but abandoned it with a sigh and nodded appreciatively before trotting off after his companion. ‘Lovely lady’ was not how he would describe Velvet, but nothing better came to mind. A few light nudges and apologies later, he’d made his way through the crowd as well and found she had slipped between the two empty stalls for a hint of privacy. She leaned back against one and held her mug in both hands, her gaze moving from the starry sky overhead back to him as he approached.
“Enjoying yourself?” He asked, leaning against the empty stall opposite her.
“I am,” she said softly, looking down at her mug. “I’ve never tasted anything like this. It’s delicious.”
Erenville watched her, hoping to glean anything from her fainter demeanor. Her fingers tapped her mug, a silent code he noticed a second later was her keeping the beat of the distant music that played on into the night. She was always doing that, some sort of fidgeting to a rhythm only she could hear.
“Why do I know so little about you?” He asked suddenly, surprising even himself with his bluntness.
Velvet looked up, eyes owlishly round. “You don’t ask.”
“I’m asking now.”
“About what?”
“How have you never tasted coffee before?” It was the first thing that came to mind, inconsequential as it was. It felt representative of a larger question he’d had for a while now, one of where she came from. Velvet smiled wryly and took a sip of her drink.
“My family kept me from the world for a long time, for my safety. I haven’t tried a lot of things.”
“They were strict?”
“Not badly,” she said with a tilt of her head. “They had reason.”
Erenville folded his arms, not entirely convinced. “Alright. You’ve mentioned your mother. What was she like?”
Velvet’s eyes went to the sky as if the woman could be found there, then drifted back to her cup. “Warm, like sunlight. She loved me almost as much as she loved the star.”
He bit his tongue, hoping to draw more detail from her with his silence.
“She let me visit some places as I grew older. I only ever watched people, never spoke to them.”
“You don't act like someone who never spoke to anyone outside of their family,” he pointed out.
She laughed lightly and shook her head. “I just learned everything I could about the world from what others would say. It was how I heard about Maeve— the Warrior of Light. People would talk a lot about her.”
“Only moreso after her stint in saving the realm, I imagine.”
“Mhm. One day.. she found me. I woke up and she was there like a prince in a fairytale. She offered me her hand, so I took it.” Her tone was almost wistful for a second, then her brows knit together. “And then my family decided I didn’t need them anymore and left me. The end.”
Erenville remained quiet. It was a story he could only half follow, the details still being so murky. There was something big she wasn’t saying, but if she didn’t offer it, he wouldn’t push her to divulge. It wasn’t his place to demand anything of her.
“I hope you didn’t mind the dancing. I enjoyed it, with you,” she said, glancing up to him.
He couldn’t help a little quirk at the corner of his lips. “Mm. It wasn’t so bad.”
They finished their coffee slowly, savoring it. Velvet offered nothing more of herself, and Erenville did not ask, much as he wanted to. They had a long journey ahead of them. All he could do was hope they might get another moment like this.