Actions

Work Header

The Future Doesn't Scare Me at All

Chapter 6: The Maiden, the Mother, and the Other One - Lv90+

Summary:

Esselte pays a social call.

Notes:

Esselte/Y'shtola.

Chapter Text

She has three things to deal with in Dravania and Coerthas, so Esselte doesn't dally in Othard and instead teleports directly to Idyllshire once she's out of the temple grounds, and then puts her hand on the aetheryte and pops over to the Epilogue Gate. …the Prologue Gate? She can never remember which is which. The western one, at any rate. It would be nice to check in on Slowfix and the others, but some things must come first.

Still, the weather is nice, so she elects to indulge herself and to walk the path south rather than taking faster modes of transportation.


Right, this is the thing about the Hinterlands, she thinks, pulling her flying broom out of her bags and expanding it to full size. It looks nice and then it starts tipping down with rain.


She's thoroughly soaked by the time she makes it to the cave network in the southern mountains. She hops off her broom before coming to a full stop, letting the momentum carry her forward into shelter. It's dry here, at least, so she pulls out her staff and wraps herself in a gust of heated wind. It gets her clothes mostly dry in a matter of minutes, although her toes remain irritatingly damp inside her boots.

Still. Good enough for the job at hand. She gives a passing Poroggo a wave and heads deeper into the cave, brushing out her hair with her fingers.

Matoya gives her a glance as she rounds the final corner, but then tsks and looks back to her work with a frown. "Shtola isn't here. She went up to the library, researching her new project. Go on and chase after her, then; I can't imagine you've come to borrow my crystal again, not with everything settled."

Esselte smiles, despite herself. Never change. "Perfect, I'm just in time then."

Matoya looks up at her again, sharply. "So you are here to ask something of me, after all. Out with it, then."

Esselte shakes her head, still smiling. "Nothing of the sort. I come bearing three things for you: a gift, an offer, and a formality. No requests, not this time."

Something in Matoya's glare eases, just a fraction. "Hmm. Very well. I'm in the middle of something at the moment, but I can take a break soon, if you don't mind waiting. Sit; I won't be long."

Esselte sits.

The minutes stretch on. Matoya shows no sign of stopping; she's writing something, and whatever it is, it covers pages and pages. Esselte shrugs and leaves her to it. If Matoya wants to test her sincerity, that's fine. She's earned it. She can keep herself occupied in the meantime.

She unlaces her boots and gets to work on drying off her feet before they prune further.


It takes the better part of the bell before Matoya grunts quietly and finally sets aside her papers. Esselte dried her boots, combed the tangles out of her hair, touched up her nail polish and got halfway through composing a letter of her own, but she can finish that later. So she too sets it aside, turning to pull something out of her pack instead.

"So, then. Why have you come?" grumbles Matoya.

"Master Matoya," says Esselte formally, setting a large tin on the table. "A gift, as a token of my thanks for all the help you have given me over the years. I cannot speak for the Scions, as that organization no longer formally exists, but I personally owe you a great debt of gratitude. Today that takes the form of tea; I heard you were fond of herbal teas, so I have brought you a tea made with Kholusian lemonettes. I thought a tea from the First might be fitting, given everything." She smiles softly.

Matoya just looks at her, like she's waiting to hear the catch. Esselte takes a deep breath and presses on.

"As I said, this is merely a token: if you ever have need of me, please don't hesitate to ask. I hope someday I will be able to return the many favors you have done me." She nods, letting a more casual tone creep into her voice. "The offer, then: would you like to have tea with me? Today? You're right that I want to spend time with Shtola, of course-" Matoya narrows her eyes at the dropped honorific. "-but I had hoped to spend some time with you as well, now that I have some time free of duty, time to do whatever I want. Would that be alright?"

There's a long pause, Matoya glaring at her all the while. But eventually Matoya snorts and looks away. "Tea, then. Taro Roggo! Prepare us a pot of this tea Mistress Lhian has brought us."

One of the Poroggos scurries over, snatches the tin of imported tea and vanishes into one of the back passages of the cave. Another Poroggo drags a second chair over to the table (with no small amount of effort) and Matoya climbs into it with a grunt.

"You're buttering me up. Don't bother lying to me, I can tell. I shall be very upset if you do ask me for another favor, after all this."

Esselte sits back with a smile. "Never fear. Would you like to hear a story while we wait for the tea to steep? I'm hardly a wordsmith, but I like to think I've gotten better at storytelling out of sheer necessity, of late."


She lands on the story of Titania, after some discussion. Of her own travels across Il Mheg, dealing with the mischievous Pixies, the pernicious Fuath, the even-handed Nu Mou, the tired Amaro. The battle in Lyhe Ghiah, and what came after. Tyr Beq and An Lad, through dreams and nightmares. The tea arrives halfway through the story and Matoya sips at hers, her only commentary being clarifications of how to spell one name or another. By the time she's done, Esselte's own tea has grown quite cold, but she drinks it anyway; it seems Taro Roggo added honey to the brew, and it soothes the pain growing in her throat after so much recent talking.

"Hmmm," says Matoya eventually. "And the third thing? The formality?" Not a word of thanks or acknowledgement, but the pinched, pained look that Esselte has always seen in her eyes has eased for the first time she's ever been aware of.

"Right. I stress that this is not a request: I am informing you of something you need to be told, but I'm not asking you to do anything about it one way or another." She takes a deep breath. "I find I'm getting quite serious about Shtola. We've been through a lot together, and- I don't know if it's love or not. But it's something, and I mean to follow where it leads. You're the closest thing she has to a parent; that man hardly counts."

That man being Y'rhul Nunh, of course. Y'shtola had never once spoken of him to Esselte, but she had asked around during her time in Sharlayan and from what she heard, Y'shtola's total avoidance of the topic was entirely understandable. The man was a philanderer, a drunk, and (worst of all, to Sharlayan sensibilities) a bad researcher, spending most of his time drunkenly chasing one skirt or another in-between putting out the occasional error-riddled paper. His claim to the title of Nunh stood unchallenged only because none of his abandoned, scattered progeny wanted anything to do with him.

Matoya grunts her agreement.

"She looks up to you a lot, you know," continues Esselte. "She would never say it, but she does. Her chosen alias in Slitherbough was- it's difficult to explain the depth of their culture around names. I can't say I fully understand it myself, but… her choice indicates a deep respect for you, almost a reverence. It might sound like self-aggrandizement, or a desire to replace you, but in context it's not that at all. She loves you, and she missed you, and… it was almost a way to keep a memory of you close to her heart. Something like that, anyway."

Matoya looks away, refusing to meet her earnest gaze.

"Anyway. My point is: as her dear mentor, you deserve to be aware of my intentions towards her. We're still working things out, but…" Esselte smiles, fond. "I have hopes for the future. I'm not asking for your blessing, or anything like that. Just. You deserve to know."

Matoya is silent for a long time. "The spineless wretches of the Forum could stand to take a cue from your example," she says at length. "You remind me of old Louisoix, the way you believe in the future with all your heart, both for public matters and private ones. Now, as Shtola would tell you, I tend to be sparing with my praise. But for what you've accomplished, for what you've done for our world, you have my respect and admiration."

Esselte stares at her.

Matoya snorts a laugh. "Is it that unbelievable? Well. Thank you for the tea, and for the visit. But you'd best be going." She smirks knowingly. "Stop wasting your time on this old biddy and go kiss your girlfriend."

Series this work belongs to: