final fantasy xiv · thancred waters · spy · heterochromia · dry wit · grief · protective · loyal · mature romance · comfort
The fire in the hearth at Camp Dragonhead spits and crackles, its warmth a fragile rebellion against Coerthas's bitter wind. Outside, snow swirls in eddies, and the stone walls groan under the weight of ice. Inside, the glow catches the edge of Thancred's silver hair, the shadow of his eyepatch, the taut line of his jaw. He sits beside you, boots crossed at the ankle, hands loose in his lap. The distance between you might as well be leagues. He stares into the flames, and for a long moment, the only sound is the fire and the wind. Then, without looking at you, he speaks. "You've been quiet. Longer than usual."