stars bear witness
Back upon the ship the day before their arrival, the Miqo'te had blown two whistles from one of his many bags over the clear blue waters. While the blond hadn't understood what exactly it had been for at the time, the purpose of the whistles is now undeniably clear.
These pathetic birds are just so loud.
The stablehand in charge of travellers' chocobos at the edge of Limsa has clearly been overwhelmed by the sheer might of the two adorned birds which squawk and cry out at the sight of the Warrior of Light. Their large, almost uncanny dark eyes watch the man with excitement, focussing solely upon the Miqo'te who deftly grabs their reins and nuzzles against curved, shining orange beaks. The smaller of the two closes its eyes in apparent glee as the man murmurs warm words against shining golden feathers, whilst the larger, pitch black bird to its right watches on in gentle contentment.
"These are my friends," the shorter man murmurs, his voice laden with tender affection. Long fingers run through silky golden feathers. "This is Gryff." Then, moving onto the larger, dark steed, he presses his forehead against the creature's beak between its eyes in wanton familiarity. "And this is Amity. You'll be riding him."
Zenos' nose wrinkles in disgust, but he nods, stepping forward to examine the creature. The chocobo which they had brought the Eorzean champion for Zenos' use is far larger than the Miqo'te's own smaller, sprightly steed to support the Garlean. Black feathers and a proud glint in the bird's eyes reflect a poise which is not prevalent in the rambunctious yellow chocobo at its side. His eyes trace over the ornate emblems and carvings upon this black bird's saddle and helm; a chocobo sigil sits above a small red unicorn upon a dark field. This crest is strangely familiar, but…
The Warrior of Light hands Amity's reins to Zenos, then moves to pack his numerous belongings onto the surprisingly-sturdy beast's saddle. Despite his disgust, Zenos bites his tongue and obediently follows suit, lashing his packs to the saddle upon the giant dark bird's back. Unlike the affectionate joy shown towards the Miqo'te by his own chocobo, this larger beast continuously squawks and shies away from Zenos' touch, terror filling his tone.
"You're frightening her," the Warrior of Light mutters, stepping forward alongside the nearest stableboy to calm the creature.
Zenos swallows down the retort upon his tongue. I see not why I must submit in kindness to such a pathetic creature, he longs to spit. Instead, he murmurs, "I've never handled one before."
"You just need to be gentle, Zen." The blond almost snorts in response. "Treat him well. He's very dear to me."
Pale blue eyes that are normally so unwavering quake as the Miqo'te's hand flies up to his neck to fidget with his choker. Zenos has never truly paid the man's clothing any mind, but as he takes a closer look, the same red unicorn from Amity's sigil adorns the shorter man's throat. "What is that symbol?" he finds himself asking before he can restrain himself.
"What?" Noticing Zenos' pointed scrutiny, the Miqo'te glances downwards, catching sight of his own hand fiddling with his choker. "Ah- it's the symbol of House Fortemps. A noble house of the land of Isghard," he offers by way of explanation.
"The bird belongs to them?"
Dark lips press together into a line. "Amity was a gift."
"Is it also a gift to be collared by this noble house?"
The Eorzean champion freezes, and so, too, does Zenos. It is as if time has come to a standstill; the wind blows through their hair, pushing long golden locks into Zenos' face, but he does not react, eyes fixated upon the way it also pushes the Miqo'te's hair out of stunned, almost heartbroken green. The flat grimace of the other man's mouth quivers, trembles, fingers pressing further into the collar until it is clearly too hard, enough to leave an indent upon the other man's skin. Zenos wants to reach out- why does the other man mar his own skin like so?- but he does not, every hair on his flesh standing straight in fear, in discomfort, at this look of utter helplessness in his friend's statuesque silhouette.
Finally, the shorter man sucks in a breath, shaky and weak. He looks down, hastening his movements until he is packed up. It takes naught but the blink of an eye to hop onto Gryff's back, and soon enough, the Miqo'te looks down upon Zenos, a blank look in his eyes. Far-off.
He does not look at Zenos. That thought sickens the blond to the very core.
"I wear this of my own volition," he breathes at last. "In memory of my friend. He gave me Amity- he gave-" His voice weakens, dies. A cough. "It is no collar. It is with pride that they continue allowing me to wear their emblem."
Zenos is no fan of chocobos, nor any of the other domesticated beasts of burden Eorzeans and their ilk have cultivated over the millenia. However, as he silently swings himself onto the back of this larger black chocobo, he finds himself experiencing a new sensation as he gains his balance atop rippling muscles, his strong legs sitting in slightly-too-small stirrups in front of folded, powerful wings. It is curious. His fingers twitch, aching for his old friend.
The Warrior of Light has never looked at him like this- his voice has never been so vulnerable, his shoulders so small.
Never before has he so badly wanted to slit the throat of another creature. His scythe would have done the job perfectly, culling this stain upon the Miqo'te's heart instantly.
Alas, he cannot act on this urge. So, he promises to himself what shall be done. You will take off that emblem.
What he shall tie around the other man's neck instead, he does not yet know. One step at a time. His fingers ache to squeeze, but dares not act- not yet. Not now.
Not while his dear friend's eyes look his way, seeing something Zenos knows, to the depths of the hollow of his soul, that he will never be.