No spoiler change. Still just vaguely 2.0-ish content. Thanks for reading.
F'lhaminn is kind. No—well—yes, but—that isn't really what you're trying to get at. F'lhaminn is… interesting? Unexpected? Definitely, she seems like she'd be a bit of a tease sometimes. But whatever it is, that half smirk with a twinkle in one eye is the thing that makes your chest warm and pushes a stupid smile up your throat and out onto your face.
F'lhaminn is sweet. N-Not like that—or, maybe she is, but that's not the—
She's sweet the way she looks out for you, but even sweeter in how she doesn't treat you differently because of, well, whatever everyone else thinks you are. Warrior of Light? F'lhaminn seems as immune to titles as she is to the pleas for forgiveness from those who fail to clean their plates and end up washing everyone's dishes for the rest of the night.
And, you know, though she does her job with sharp professionalism, you get the sense that F'lhaminn's a bit selfish too. She probably isn't nicer to people than she wants to be. All that to say, she definitely cares for everyone in the Rising Stones, but you feel like when she goes even a little bit out of her way to be nice, it's because she really means it.
In general, maybe F'lhaminn doesn't notice you any more than she notices anyone else. But the reverse is definitely not true: F'lhaminn has been on your mind for a while, now. In the curious sort of way. In the crush sort of way. Crushes only mean so much when you barely know the person, and you're certainly not unfamiliar with having instant attraction or immediate interest in somebody else. And she's a bit of a mom, it feels, to most of the Scions (and literally a mom to one of them), but… but you liked her a bit even before she settled into that role, so… so… Well, you're not sure what you're justifying with this ambling train of thought, but it feels like an important thing to point out. Or it feels like you feel it's an import—
At any rate, crushes will do as crushes will do, and you'd decided to let it slowly fizzle itself out. F'lhaminn seems kind of serious, and maybe serious in the "Oh that's a little weird but sort of cute but either way no thanks" sort of way, and since she's a nice source of emotional rejuvenation for you and everyone else, you'd figured it would be best if you didn't go and make it weird.
…And then she had to go and wait up for you and cook for you past midnight (you know she usually goes to bed earlier than that) and smile at you and gently ease words out of you (when everyone else seems like they're trying to squeeze them out) and show off to you just how cool and mysterious and interesting she is and you want to get to know her better and there goes your resolution like a burning scrap of paper.
Your heart's a little quick when you lay in bed that night, and a few stupid giggles escape from time to time on your slow, winding path towards sleep.
F'lhaminn is great. Whatever that means you will or won't do, she's just great. Maybe you'll try to get some advice on that whole "what do to" front. (Or, maybe you just want to gush.) A visit to Dragonhead might not be uncalled for. You've got a little free time. Only a little, but a little is enough.
"Love? Love?! Splendid! Ah, how honored I am that you would turn to me, Haurchefant, for such advice! I want to hug you. May I hug you?"
He's being as ridiculous as ever. You let him hug you.
"So? How much detail shall I be given to work with? I can deduce… yes, I sense through the aether itself… that the object of your affection is… female!" Your gaze turns gradually less patient. He's known how you swing since the first time you stayed up drinking together and started bragging about, as he put it, the 'luscious bosoms' you'd each encountered. "Hmm, well, such a detail, among others, may be faintly useful, but they matter not in the end—my experience is not limited by gender, nor race, nor age, nor—"
Your patience continues to wane. Why exactly did you think this was a good idea? Well, aside from the fact Haurchefant is your best friend and is downright hilarious and actually quite helpful, even when he is simultaneously just a bit maddening.
"Apologies, apologies, my ramblings shall cease. But, in more seriousness, will you tell me at least something? I must be fed some small nugget of information to begin to resolve this silhouette of a damsel that exists yet shapeless in my mind's eye."
Twelve, he's excited. It's a bit adorable. And it's relaxing you a bit. You tell him that she's—
"Oh? Oooh! A maiden of distinguished years!" Your immediate protest is stammered out—his choice of words treads dangerously between compliment and insult, and you'll stand none of the latter! Also, you told him older, not old! Geez, what sort of person is he imagining? Granted, you don't exactly know how much older than you F'lhaminn is, but that's a minor—"Of course, of course. You are so young, there is a tremendous range of years that qualify as simply 'older' than yourself without passing on to the realm of, ahem, distinguished." He nods, eyes shut, but then looks to the horizon and strokes his chin. "Yet I cannot help but feel… that if she were merely a handful of years your senior, you would have estimated it with a response of 'close to my own age'. But, of course, all this is speculation, and a bit of well-meaning teasing. Returning to the severity of the topic at hand, in truth, there is but one more thing I must needs know in order to aid you in earnest."
Suddenly Haurchefant's hands land firmly on your shoulders, and he meets your eyes as though he is about to ask you something of tremendous import. Is there truly one simple question he could ask, your answer to which would profile enough about you and your prospective romantic interest that his advice would be sharpened to a needle's point of precision?
"Sister in arms—both in battles of blood and battles of love—speak unto me the truth." Of course. If it would help him help you this much, you'd be honest about nearly anything. "Is she… old enough to be your mother?"
You sip cocoa by a crackling fire while Haurchefant sits opposite, trying to drink his own while holding a bit of ice wrapped in cloth against his jaw. When the Warrior of Light is flustered—when she is betrayed, and by a dear friend no less—she does not slap, nor anything so maidenly. Haurchefant will live. Though whether or not he'll prove useful is another question entirely.
"Ah." He suddenly speaks, and you're eager to show him that a miqo'te is fast enough to set down her cocoa without spilling a drop and still punch him again before he even knows she's coming. "Though I was a tad dizzy at the moment, and you were… well, rambling hastily in a rather scandalized tone that was hard to make out precisely, I do believe I heard you mention within the torrent that this maiden is a fan of perfumes and fragrances?"
You nod. This sounds… not immediately disastrous. You make sure that your glare still reminds him to behave.
"It occurs to me that there is a rare flower in a cave some distance northeast of here—one could leave after breakfast and return before dinner with the proper mount, and an experienced guide to direct them. The alchemists sometimes make the journey to gather this flower for their medicines, but I believe I have overheard them speaking about it possessing a very novel and not unpleasant odor."
You never thought you'd see a grown Elezen be literally dragged along by you through only the force with which he grips the hem of your cloak.
"Did you not listen to anything I—The cave is very difficult to find without an experienced—There are fell creatures that would give even the Warrior of Light herself pause if she was alone when—Take me with you, please! If I do another page of paperwork without an adventure to rekindle my soul beforehand, I'll shrivel away! I'll rot and decay at my very desk—the cruelest end that a warrior can meet! Surely you must grant me that sympathy at least!"
…You ask why he can't just go and chop things up on his own from time to time.
"There is so much paperwork to do, I can not escape with my old excuses any more! No, wait, I know how that sounds, but I assure you, I am the victim in this! As you know, there are so many beautiful individuals in Eorzea that t'would be a shame to abandon to a cold, empty bed, that from time to time I claim to have an adventure, upon which I will thusly embark and finish with immense haste due to my exceptional physical prowess, and then make my way to one such lonely bed and warm it—a truly harmless plot, and nay, indeed, one I ought to be praised for! When my habit of sheer benevolence was discovered, it was decreed by my own faithful followers that I was forbidden from venturing out lest I had—can you believe this—an escort! Lord Haurchefant, reduced to… to being accompanied as though he were a misbehaving child! But surely, if it were in the company of the Warrior of Light herself, I could make a case to leave this prison of stone for but… but one lonely afternoon…?"
He's long since gained your compliance if only on account of getting him to stop lamenting his terrible 'plight' to you. You meet with the captain of his guard to claim custody of the giddy Elezen, and set off posthaste into the snow.
Or, so you would have done, had Haurchefant not needed nigh upon an hour to collect 'adventuring rations', which you only discover at the cave itself to be wine and cheese. Dumbfounded as you are by his incorrigibility, it… is a little difficult to get upset, given that you've found the treasure you sought, and now find yourself with some very nice 'rations' to celebrate with.
Twelve be praised for this lovable, reliable miscreant.