One Feather Enclosed
by Ishgard Fan, 2026 9 September
Thusly, my most precious Warrior of Light, a gift to me from the Fury Herself, shall receive my first missive of the day. Ser Knight Such-and-Such can wait his turn.
Lovers exchange letters; one has a bit of help.
Author's Note:
Written for FFxivWrite2026 Prompt #9: Boustrophedon
What is boustrophedon??? I am SO GLAD you asked!!! It's only the coolest thing I've discovered all week.
My beloved Liborette,
My thoughts turn to you daily (and nightly, always) as you venture further yet further beyond our fair city. It feels as if you departed just as quickly as you arrived. Now that our doors have opened to you, there is much and more of our culture to which I would introduce you. With each day passed, my joyous plans multiply in number and extravagance. Forgive me for the length of our itinerary. The fault lies in the fact that all I see reminds me of you.
Not one minute passes without my wondering where you are, which foes impeded your path, how gallantly you overcame them... Naught compares to the smell of you after battle, soaked in sweat and blood. When I said I would not wash the clothes you wore to Camp Cloudtop, I meant it. My favourite article (you know the one) lies balled up somewhere in our private chambers. Preferably it would reside in my pocket, had my garrison less need of its lord's attention.
Even so I am distracted. If I am once more caught sighing and staring at nothing, Yaelle will have my head. It would behoove me to at least appear busy. Thusly, my most precious Warrior of Light, a gift to me from the Fury Herself, shall receive my first missive of the day. Ser Knight Such-and-Such can wait his turn.
I am comforted knowing we dwell beneath the same sky. Our stars are the same, ever entwining our fates. My wish to be entwined more tangibly, I promise to endure.
Clouds have settled over Ishgard, bearing heavy snows once again. By the full moon, the skywatchers predict winter's homecoming in full force. I pray she is merciful, and I pray you are cautious. Resume your reckless adventurism only aft returning to my side. Should you once again require plucking from a snowdrift, I prefer to be a mere malm or two away.
Eternally yours,
Haurchefant
HAURCHEFANT:
GIANT BIRD
TO DEVOUR
FEATHER
L.I.
Two women on a journey through The Churning Mists sat shoulder to shoulder, writing letters, sharing one pot of ink. The other's page tilted in Ysayle's direction. After finishing her thought, she set aside her quill and inspected Liborette's missive— if it could be called that. Firelight danced in the grooves where she pressed too hard into the parchment.
"Aye," she said, "that is how it is done in my homeland."
How odd it looked, the Dravanian writing style replicated in common Eorzean script, odder still in Liborette's chunky scrawl. Could this Haurchefant even decipher the message? The girl folded the paper around the feather she had been writing with, one from the kettle of vultures they met (and dispatched of) earlier that day.
"Thank you for teaching me," she said, ever soft-spoken. "My beloved... enjoys exotic things."
Of course he should. The woman herself was exotic: brown skin, woolly hair, few words to say in regards to any subject, and destructive capacity rivalling a whole horde of dragons. And there was the Echo as well, the one thing they shared. Whereas Ysayle had harnessed her power to discover her truest self, Liborette seemed content to be a pawn. A pawn by which she was increasingly charmed, yes— who could not be charmed by a girl stuffing a giant feather into a tiny envelope? Her face creased with determination, as if in battle with the cloudkin all over again— but a pawn nonetheless.
She only hoped their audience with Hraesvelgr might open her eyes.
