Drabbles for LJ community ff_fortnightly prompt "Domesticity."

These take place in my Surveyors of the Past: Invisible Sun AU storyline (Noah/Penelo, many, many years post-game).



Ignoring the Truth (717 O.V.)

People see what they want to see rather than the truth. Often that's better, Penelo thinks, but this time she is annoyed.

She pours guests drinks and fills their plates. Yet, rather than wish her a joyous new year, they reach to hug her and offer their condolences. "You poor dear. I always thought you would make him an honest man. You were such sweethearts when young."

Her wide-eyed daughter looks up, worried. Penelo smoothes the girl's hair.

Penelo never married so no one stops to think that her three blonde children are not Vaan's. Her two sons jump for a ball Vaan holds over his head while Vaan's new girlfriend shouts, tickles them, and works the boys into a wild frenzy. That will tire them out, Penelo thinks. She fills a plate with enough food to share with another.

People must think she is overly kind to the "older pensive Archadian" who works off a debt owed to her family. Noah spends his days in the warehouse and keeps to himself.

He sits in a shadowed alcove, makes room for her to sit, and seeks her lips rather than spiced vegetables and roasted meat. Nobody notices when they kiss.

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Transfer of Energy (722 O.V.)

Vossler walks down the same path every morning, through the gardens, past the field, to the stables. Noah's two oldest son runs before him, shouting marching orders, calling guesses of the color egg they will find in the chocobo nursery. The simplicity of routine suits Vossler well, Penelo thinks, he rarely angers. For this, she is glad.

Her daughter's bare legs clutch at her waist. The girl tosses her head back as she laughs, tickled by the daisy Penelo rubs against her cheek. "Fran and Balthier promised to visit today," she says. She lifts the girl into the air, for a moment her daughter is weightless.

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In the kitchen, Noah's youngest does not wait until his father is ready. Bare feet run, jump, he sails, a raucous shout precedes his arrival. Noah steadies the boy, not the wheels of his chair, and the boy shrieks with glee as his momentum transfers energy, rolling them forward, for Noah backward. Basch catches them.

"Again! Again! Again!"

"Careful of your father's legs," Basch lifts the boy, an airship sails through the sky, soars until small feet touch the floor. "He has your sense of patience."

For once, Noah agrees. This is his son.

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