academy of eorzea
academy of eorzea |
back to school season! Welcome to the Academy of Eorzea — AoE for short! Put on your school uniforms and get ready to vie for the attentions of the I4 — the most popular students in school. Or... pilot giant mechas in battle against the Garlean empire for some reason. How are the giant robots related to the high school plot? We just don't know.In more direct terms: here's an open post based on the most recent April Fool's Day dev blog entry! (If you haven't seen it, it's here.) Basically, it's a FFXIV high school AU: pick your role (parent? teacher? student?), and play with aggressively cliche shoujo or shounen manga tropes if that's what you want to do. Yeah, we've run a school AU before, but now it's semi-canon, so let's have another! Toplevel with whatever AU information you want and have fun! |
TEMPLATE CODED BY
valoirs
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
no subject
Mr. Augurelt's inopportune arrival cuts the conversation short, and outside, Francel follows suit, hastening himself home as advised. Dashing away as though he has a curfew hanging over his head — or happens to be an enchanted rabbit who reveals his true form when night falls — he snatches any opening to accompany him out of reach.
Perhaps it's for the best.
Certain that Francel fled, overwhelmed, Zephirin expects to be the one to contact the other boy, intending to check up on him after their abrupt parting. He leaves it until late in the evening, long enough of a breather to let Francel recover.
His phone alerts him to the new message in his inbox just as he finishes getting dressed, freshly showered. Within moments, Zephirin sends his response regardless: ]
Good evening, Francel.
I did, and you?
So thou didst make it home ere the night took hold.
no subject
i did indeed, milord!
(mr. augurelt never really reacts when i try to talk like he does)
my mom cooked today, but she’s bad at it, so the meatballs were kind of soggy
but the sauce was storebought so it turned out okay
it’s easier when i just cook but
oh this is all off-topic ;;;; um
i wanted to ask if you’d have time to meet me tomorrow...
after school or during lunch?
no subject
Face-to-face, he would have seen Zephirin pleased rather than annoyed in any way. ]
I have time during lunch and tomorrow evening. Which do you prefer?
My sympathy over the meatballs.
no subject
lunchtime would be best, i think!
i don't know if you'll be hungry in the evening
and i guess i'm planning to make a lot?
ah, not "a lot" like a giant box of food but
i don't want you to be stuck with something you don't like, so i'm making a few different dishes
no subject
That alone could either exacerbate his anxiety, or prove a pleasant change, if Francel lets himself believe that he isn't required to earn Zephirin's company. ]
Then we'll meet to have lunch together and go over anything that you'd like to work on.
I'll look forward to trying your cooking, Francel. I doubt that I would dislike any of it.
We can use a study room, or would you rather work in the library?
no subject
[ever the student librarian and stickler for rules first, it would seem...]
but, um, the study rooms are fine to eat in as long as we clean up afterward
so i'll grab us a study room for the lunch period then
also, if it helps, i'm going to ask for help on some of my homework, so...
it's stuff like... calculating the equations of a curve and determining the shape of a function....
calculating the area of a sector of a circle...
...it's all very dull and i don't understand any of it, so i'm sorry in advance
no subject
"*' ^ '* ;;" must represent Francel's expression, and Zephirin elects not to defend himself. ]
I appreciate the reminder, a study room is the better option.
I can't guarantee that you'll find the material any less dull by the end of the lunch break, but I'll do what I can.
Should I let you go for the evening?
no subject
i didn't think of myself as being in your clutches...
but i'll finish up our lunchboxes and then shower and sleep
[a little message bubble indicates that he is typing for an unusually long amount of time, and then:]
good night, zephirin
no subject
Without hesitation, Zephirin replies: ]
As I've already finished showering, it wouldn't be fair to hold you up.
We'll have time to talk tomorrow, aside from discussing your homework.
Good night, Francel.
[ He includes a crescent moon-shaped emoticon at the end of his message, and sets his phone down on his desk, plugging in its charger. His folder of second-year notes from math class is in a drawer; locating it, he slides it inside his bag to take to school with him.
The following day, when the bell chimes at the start of the lunch hour, Zephirin is indeed the one to contact Francel first: ]
I'm on my way. See you soon, Francel.
no subject
dawn brings a new day, fraught with new anxieties; francel spends the morning in a haze, barely able to concentrate on mr. torioi's history lecture, though the doman man is normally quite entertaining in a pitiful sort of way. after history comes physics, and after physics comes art (a merciful reprieve from more equations involving triangles and disappointment) — tragically, francel's attempts at self-portraiture leave him feeling even less attractive than usual.
eventually, the appointed lunch period arrives, as does zephirin's text. francel's haste to respond leaves him with strange errors in his typing.]
!ah ok! see you soon!!
i'll run over there right awa!ay
[sure enough, francel arrives breathless at the door to their reserved study room, his bag of lunchboxes cradled between both hands to better facilitate jogging from the art classrooms. a lock of his hair is wildly out of place, sticking up at the crown of his head.]
I-I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner!
no subject
To reassure Francel, Zephirin shakes his head on the heels of the apology, offering an explanation: ]
I arrived not long ago, myself, but it's possible that I had a shorter walk — I was in biology class before lunch. [ The science block isn't far from this building. ] What about you?
[ Francel's stray lock of hair draws Zephirin's eye a second time: if Francel remains unaware, his hands full besides, it's something to bring up. First, however, Zephirin pushes the door to their study room open, inviting Francel to head inside and catch his breath in a seat. ]
no subject
[which are quite a ways away, and on a higher floor — the fact that francel can run all that distance speaks to having a better physique than one might normally expect from such a shy and bookish underclassman. he looks nothing but cherubic and sweet, however, as he offers the bag of lunchboxes to zephirin.]
U-Um — this is for you! I mean, I made this for you!
[tongue-tied — he meant to say one thing but said another — francel steps into the study room, but doesn't make to sit down. his determined expression does look quite a bit like... *' ^ '* ;;]
no subject
In a few strides, Zephirin stands beside Francel, over the nearest table. There, he places his own bag on the floor next to his chosen chair, and Francel's lunchboxes on the table, removing them from within their bag one by one.
He doesn't open them yet — facing Francel, one hand raised, he brings it closer to the boy's tuft of hair still out of alignment with the surrounding strands. For the moment, the gesture only points it out, implicitly seeking Francel's consent to step in. ]
When you said that you would run over here right away, I suppose I should have realized that you meant it.
no subject
by unpacking the bag, zephirin has neatly unburdened him of his obligations. the boy looks around the room awkwardly for a moment, and then finally sits down. his bag is still slung over his shoulder.]
I, um... I don't generally say things that I don't mean, I guess...?
no subject
Hand lowered, Zephirin curls it around the back of his chair, and sits down a moment later, leaning one forearm against the edge of the table. He studies Francel, as if appraising him. ]
Then, if I ask you if you consider us friends now, what will you say?
[ Speaking in person for the third time, they probably have a ways to go first, but Francel was plainly excited to see his new acquaintance again yesterday. ]
no subject
I... I do want to be friends...
[faced with the prospect of labeling their relationship, francel tosses the decision back to zephirin instead, his answer a plea for permission as opposed to a proclamation of friendship.]
So, um... if you want to, too... or if you’re fine with it...
no subject
Should I object? We've been getting along well, to my knowledge.
[ The truth is that Zephirin himself isn't someone who makes friends easily; he has a small group of them, met over the years, neither expanded nor diminished since then. Francel is nothing like any of his friends so far, but the same applies to Zephirin, and the others are already a mix of personalities. ]
...Though admittedly, you've still seemed uneasy.
no subject
[this comes out in an energetic outburst, so enthusiastic that it almost sounds petulant. perhaps he doth protest too much — francel slides back into his seat, looking a little sheepish as he realizes he's nearly yelled at zephirin about how... at ease he is. plainly, he's not truly at ease.]
...I'm sorry. I... I like being with you, I promise. It's just... I haven't really had anyone to talk to in a long time, and... I guess I feel like I don't know what to say... or how I'm supposed to act.
[he scrambles for appropriate excuses, explanations for what he knows is ridiculous, absurd behavior, but already he feels as though the airship is sinking, that zephirin will want nothing to do with him in exactly one second. it's over, francel thinks, panicking — i've just ruined it. now he knows what a sad and lonely fool i am.]
...I was really looking forward to this. But now that I've said it, I sound pathetic, don't I?
no subject
He thinks of Francel's short list of contacts. He wonders just how long I haven't really had anyone to talk to in a long time might be.
Francel isn't alone by choice, he suspects. ]
How so? That points to a good start, if we're on our way to becoming friends, and I'll think of it as an honour to be the first in a while.
[ Right now, steering the focus away from Francel himself seems the remedy to use against his self-consciousness, his overthinking what to say and how to act — taking his hand from the back of his chair, Zephirin motions at the lunchboxes. ]
Are you having any of this, by the way?
no subject
[distracted from his self-conscious thoughts — if only by his surprise that zephirin has not immediately excused himself from the room — francel nods, but he doesn't move from his chair, as if he expects zephirin to dictate how he should move, how he should think.]
Yes — the one on top is for you, and the one on the bottom is for me. But if you're still hungry after eating yours, you can have as much as you want of mine!
no subject
[ Francel's offer implies that he will eat slowly, but not necessarily that he would have difficulty finishing the contents of his lunchbox on his own. Zephirin looks at him a moment longer, nodding briefly in kind, before he reaches for the containers, moving the topmost lunchbox out of the way and sliding Francel's over to the other boy.
Gracefully, his fingers hook around the edges of his container's lid, lifting it away for his surprise lunch within to come into view. ]
no subject
the young librarian scans zephirin's expression anxiously for his reaction, even as he finally feels comfortable enough to reach for his own lunchbox and open it up. his box, mercifully, contains the same foods.]
...How is it? Umm... maybe I should have been more health-conscious?
no subject
Zephirin's eyes flick from compartment to compartment, and although his reaction is reserved, he is unmistakably appreciative, impressed. He takes up his fork, but turns his head toward Francel to find him awaiting a preliminary verdict. ]
Everything looks delicious. Do you usually make your lunches at home to take to school with you?
[ As he speaks, Zephirin starts on the mini-sandwich, raising it to his mouth. ]
no subject
he reminds himself that he has been asked a question. he stirs, as if from a reverie; already, he has forgotten the question. he blanks. he bluffs.]
Oh, um... They're good. I'm good. I mean — er —
[nothing of what he just said was coherent.]
I... promise you won't laugh? I make lunch every day because I'm afraid to talk to the school cafeteria workers...
no subject
He doesn't laugh at Francel's confession — he pauses in the midst of scooping up a forkful of the mashed potatoes to sample next. Deadpan, he replies as though Francel's answer made complete sense: ]
These lunches are good, as are you. As for the cafeteria, I doubt that you're missing much.
[ But Francel must find it hard to navigate going to school at all, being called on to answer questions in class. At the very least, he gradually seems less afraid to talk to Zephirin. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)