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pywriting · 5 years

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Prompt 3: “Lost”

The morning had come and gone, midday now well on its journey. There was the smell of food cooking, as meal was prepared and set out.

It wasn’t fresh, but, rather, leftovers from the night before. Still, as the young Faeravel sat down with his tousled hair and his dirty face, he looked all too happy for it. Already greedily gulping down some water and chatting happily with some of the other young men of the tribe that had been working with him in caring for the animals.

Even so, with such an enjoyable atmosphere, something was bothering the young Kha. As he looked around, he could not spot exactly the person he searched for. There was a slight frown on his face, but he put it past him for a moment, finishing his meal quickly.

The others were talking of going out and taking to some hunt or other sort, and already Faeravel was getting invited to come along. Even though he wanted to go with them, he gave a dismissive wave and apologized.

“Come on… Let’s go find something large to take down. Or is it you’re too scared after last night’s match, eh? Don’t want to be shown up for, what, a fourth time now, Faer?” One boy said to him, taunting in hopes to get him to rise to the challenge.

Faeravel let out a snort, smirking widely. “You only wish you would be able to defeat this.” He said, puffing out his chest. He then, for pure entertainment's sake, began to flex his muscles this way and that. As if to show just how ‘strong’ and ‘powerful’ he was with just that.

The other men boo’d at him, pushing and shoving playfully, which Faer returned with a grin. He even had reached out, grabbing for one of them to pull into a headlock. The victim, slow as ever, was Otgonbayer. A whiny brat, all in all.

“What was that? Trying to challenge me here already?” He would wrestle with the other, all of them clearly enjoying this.

For a while, they did tussle. More pushing, taunting, and generally being a pain in the ass for one another.

Still, Faeravel would wave them off, “Go on. Off with you sorry lot. I have to go find my true prey- I’m going to go find Jaran.”

“Ooohh… that’s a sorry hunt, Faeravel. Too easy to find- probably resting away in some field with the sheep.” A man named Chuluun tossed back to Faer’s excuse.

“Bah. So you think. Clearly, you misunderstand just how good he’s gotten at hiding in plain sight.” Faer grinned, then just turned with one last wave. “Good hunting, brothers!”

There were a few more taunts thrown at him, but eventually the laughter and chatter drifted off, and towards the horse pens where they surely would soon find themselves riding out of. Faeravel didn’t mind nor care at the moment, far more interested in finding the prior mentioned topic of his ‘excuse’.

For the better part of the afternoon, he’d gone to search. First to the places that would normally be set for him… then asking further. He’d received no clear answer of where he’d gone, merely a few shrugs here or there.

Finally, when coming to one of the yurts, he called in, “Gansukh! Gansukh, have you seen Jaran?”

An old man was settled by the fire, looking irate at the interruption. He simply snorted, “What are you talking about? Of course I haven’t.” He kept slowly carving away at a wooden figurine in his hands.

Faer had let out a long sigh, “I’ve looked everywhere for him. Mother’s looking for him.” Sure, he’d lie a bit… but at least it sounded less like a random intrusion. Many knew Taban’s nature for getting into everyone else’s business, especially when it concerned her ‘son’. Either of them.

Gansukh would then furrow his brows, “You didn’t hear?”

Faeravel blinked at that, not understanding that sort of response, “Didn’t hear what?”

“Jaran left.” The old man tossed out so casually, never ceasing the movement of his knife whittling away at the wood.

The young man’s eyes widened a moment, then he asked quickly, “Where’d he leave to?”

The man shrugged, “Heard he was going to the sea. Off to find a boat maybe. He left late, though. Not sure everyone he told, but that’s just what the watch said. Surprised Taban didn’t know of it already, if she’s out sending you to bother me.”

Faeravel was dead silent for a moment, processing this new information. Jaran was gone? Why would he leave? Why didn’t he tell him?

Remembering his manners, Faeravel nodded his head a bit, “Of course. Right… Well, then i’ll go see what’s going on with that. Do you need anything before I leave?”

Gansukh snorted back, waving his knife a bit, “Go off somewhere else, boy. I don’t need anything. I’m not some frail old man yet.” He said with clear annoyance. He just wanted to be left alone to his own tasks right now.

Faer accepted that, leading himself out of the older man’s yurt and slowly going back through the gathered homes to where his own family’s stood. There was a deep frown on his face, and his brows knitted with worry.

The afternoon turned to evening. The evening turned to night.

Still, Jaran did not come back at all. There was little to any news, other than a mention from Taban with some worry, before his father quickly silenced the concern with some other business.

Faer had to admit he was a bit bitter- angry, more than anything. He swore as soon as he’d see Jaran, he’d make sure he wished he’d never left without telling him. Honestly, just who did Jaran think he was now?

There was no sight of Xaela the next day.

Nor the next… or the one after that…

A week passed. A month.

Soon, winter had come, and there was no word from Jaran at all.

In the end, Faeravel grew to fill a different role. He traveled more from the steppes and each time, the thoughts of where Jaran had gone dissipated. They were lost, just like he’d lost the man himself.

His heart ached still, but there was little to do about that now. After all, he couldn’t go searching for lost things forever. He had to move on, like he imagined Jaran had.

And he did.

- - - Tags - - -

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast @treyu

#ffxivwrite2019 #Faeravel Kha #Faeravel

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pyorzea · 5 years

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Bold what applies to your muse, italicize situational ones.

► ACCENT “country” │ “backwoods” │ “sailor” │ “noble” │ foreign speaker | “The Queen’s English”

► ELOQUENCE educated │ uneducated │ doesn’t use conjunctions │ shortens words │ just makes up their own words! │ old English

► TONE loud │ soft │ room volume │ high pitched │ low pitched │seductive │velvety │ speech impediment │ abrasive │ gruff │ shrill │ booming │ matter-of-fact │ toneless │ husky │gravelly │ breathy │ nasal │ barking │ chatty │ condescending │ musical │ suave │ world-weary │ brash │ authoritative

► HABITS

refers to self in third person plurals │ incorporates different languages/terms/sayings│uses gender-specific terms │ adapts to audience │ changes pitch around animals or children │ shifts tone when lying │ gives others nicknames │uses terms of respect towards others

► VOICE REFERENCE

Speaking - Ranveer Singh [Alauddin Khilji]

Tagged by: @jessipalooza

#Faeravel Kha #Faeravel #voice reference

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esmenanenda · 6 years

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It is a rare thing.

> What is?

To find comfort such as this beyond my ship.

@pyrar | @pyorzea

#faeramena #faeravel kha #es'mena nenda

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pyrar · 6 years

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Ritual

#faeravel kha #faeravel #ffxiv #balmung

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pywriting · 5 years

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Prompt 10: “Foster”

The markets were a busy place, and there was all the sounds and smells of wonderful things the stalls sold. Faeravel already had his hands full, a large sack over his shoulder, and yet still, he couldn’t help but stop at various stalls and look at the many different wares.

He’d already been there for hours, and he knew that there were two people busy waiting for him back home. Shifting the goods he had over his shoulder, he felt a tinge of excitement. He’d gotten a good few things for them, and he was certain they’d like it.

The last stall that had caught his attention was one that was selling fresh bread with some sort of filling. He wasn’t entirely sure of what it was, although his mouth watered at the sight and soon enough, more of his gil was passed over and given to the vendor. It took absolutely no time before the warm food was passed over in a little wrap.

Thanks was given, and the large Xaela started to move yet again, this time through one of the little alleyways besides the markets, trailing behind the large buildings to get to one of the back paths that would take him through Shirogane back to their home.

As he came out the other side, there was suddenly a rattle and clatter behind him from the alley he was just in. Turning about, the large man found himself looking at nothing but an empty space. The same as he’d gone through.

The only thing that brought his gaze down suddenly was the strange sound that was more close to a yap than anything else, down by his feet. There was a weight against his leg, and when he saw, it was a very, very, very fat looking cat. It’s fur was filthy, and the creature looked every part the word ‘mangy’.

Even so, the large black eyes gave the creature an almost ‘cute’ look to it.

For a long moment, while the cat slowly rested it’s hefty weight against his leg, little claws tugging at his pants, Faeravel could only stare at the creature. It made another yap noise, and a thought struck the Xaela.

Was it hungry?

The man held the freshly bought bun to the side, watching as the cat moved fast to follow his hand, pulling away from his leg and quickly circling under where his hand was. More yapping noises were made, as if this poor creature couldn’t even meow as most cats could.

Faeravel would lean down then, taking a large bite of the bun, taking off at least half of the good before he offered down the rest of the food to the cat.

Immediately, the fat creature started to stuff the bun into its face, starting to devour the treat. It was impressive how quickly the cat ate, and honestly, it somewhat reminded him of Jaran when he was most hungry.

There was a small laugh that rose up from the man, and he asked the creature, “You seem very hungry, little one. Does your owner not feed you enough?”

He paused, would it even have an owner with how dirty he was? Maybe it was a stray.

“Do you have a home, little one?” He asked, setting the bun down entirely so that he could gently scratch behind the cats ears. Of course, the creature did not answer.

Faeravel glanced around, letting out a sigh. He gently patted the cat’s head, then would say, “I will leave you with that treat. You should go find your owner soon. I hope you will get clean soon.”

Standing back up, the man smiled to the feasting cat, then turned and started back on his way to walk home.

It was an uneventful little walk, easy enough to get to from the markets, passing the various other houses. Just as he saw their own house in view, there was suddenly something under his feet that caused his long legs to trip up and make the man stumble. A little yelping noise came from his feet.

Down below, there was the cat again, circling around his feet in a very dangerous manner. Faeravel just STARED a long moment, then another laugh bubbled up in his throat, “What is this? I have no more food, small one.”

The cat merely looked at him, and made a little ‘mrr’ noise. Something in him stirred, some automatic reaction that he couldn’t help, but he let out a small sigh. “Do you not have an owner to get back to? I am sure they have more food for you.” He leaned down, giving the cat more attention with a few scratches and pets.

The large creature pressed into his hand and purred loudly. Clearly pleased with the attention.

Faeravel considered for a long, long, moment on this. Perhaps he could take it home. At least for a little. They could clean the creature, giving it a proper meal, and then they could find the owner. Or… perhaps they could merely keep the creature. It was rather ‘cute’, and it wasn’t as if the current owner, if it had one, was taking care of it.

“Do you wish to come home with me?” He asked the creature, which, of course, all the cat did was purr as he kept petting it.

Finally, Faer came to his decision. “Come. We go home.” He announced to the cat, reaching down to pluck up the hefty weight of the cat. It was like holding a sack of rice or something similar. Solid, though its fat just fell around his arm. The cat’s purring amplified, clearly pleased with being held, butting its head into Faeravel’s chest.

He smiled, starting to move forward again. He soon came to the door to the home, struggling with the latch to open up the door. When he finally managed to get inside, he gave the cat one last little smile.

“Let us get Es’mena and Jaran to meet you.” He murmured quietly.

Turning his head up, he called out, “ES’MENA! JARAN! I have a surprise for you!”

- - Tags - -

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast @jessipalooza @treyu

#ffxivwrite2019 #Faeravel Kha #Faeravel #Buuz #:3

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pywriting · 5 years

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Prompt 1: “Voracious”

Each and every person has their own desires.

Power and strength, knowledge, home, or acceptance. All things that some could wish for and achieve. To each their own stories; chapters upon chapters woven together to create that thread of fate that they follow. A guiding stone and drive to each person that pushes them forward.

Each person has their own desires. Each person has their own stories.

It was early in the morning, the mist from the night covering the ground in a slick moisture that stuck to the thick blades of grass. There was the scent of livestock and dying fires in the air. The sounds of a comforting silence, that moment suspended in time before so few awoke for.

Inside one of the homes, there was a Xaela with teal eyes, open and awake, having shucked away the lure of sleep. His fingers smoothed over his clothing, as if the appearance mattered in the moment. Beside him, on a lower bed, laid two peacefully sleeping figures. One other Xaela with his smooth scales and a miqo’te curled up under his arms and wrapping her tail around his leg.

A smile spread across Faeravel’s lips, deceptively gentle for the far more sharp Xaela. While a part of him wished to curl back with them, to wrap around their warmth and hold the other two, he stayed sitting there beside them on the edge of the bed. His eyes drifted from them, looking around the familiar room and all its features. Relishing just a moment's comfort.

Eventually, the man pushed himself back, carefully leaning over to give each of the sleeping forms a gentle kiss along their skin. A whisper of a promise to return to their sides in due time. He’d pull himself back up, using the momentum to drag his entire body to a stand and turn to the exit.

Pushing his way out from the heavy cloth and furs that covered the entrance to his home, he would glance around to the early morning around their gathered tribe. He took in a deep breath of that cool air, then took the steps further out.

There were few others out doing their chores, and none that stopped him as he strode up to a tall horse, pulling up onto it with an easy motion and then beckoning the beast to ride forward. He took no care to glance back to his tribe as he went, focusing instead on a westward direction, towards the rising sun.

His pace varied, allowing the horse the respect and care it needed as not to exhaust it, but also make the best time that he could. The day grew older, the sun was higher. Even so, he did not stop traveling.

Eventually, he’d come to a slow stop, finding a familiar sensation. It was like a spiders string drifting in the air, barely seen and detected, and just as fragile. The area was nothing of note, simply another long hill in the Steppes of many. Even so, Faeravel could feel a difference, could practically taste it on the air as he turned his horse into the direction that this tendril of sensation flowed from.

More time had passed, yet the Xaelic man did not care. Riding forward more and more, getting stronger and stronger taste of the energies… the power… the call for him.

It was a message, a crumb trail from one man that held much for him.

After another rise over one of the long hills, Faeravel’s eyes met to see his goal. A lone home- not even a true yurt, more of a tent than anything. There was a lone plume of smoke rising from inside, the only sign that there was life awoken in this little home, if it could be called such.

Faeravel urged on his horse, feeling more giddy as he came closer and closer. He sensed it, that thrilling lure of power. Perhaps in part it was his imagination and his endless hunger for power, or perhaps it was pure unabashed respect for the man that lay inside the hut.

Stopping his stead in a suitable range, he gently let the horse roam it’s all, trusting of it to stay close, while walking closer. He did not need to shout or yell, he knew he was already acknowledged as a presence here.

Pushing aside the cloth inside the makeshift home, he smiled brightly, hugging close the satchel that had hung heavy on his side for the entire day. In that dimmed room, he saw the figure across the fire, resting easy and such.

He took in a slow breath of the smoky air, then said only one word.

“Teacher.”

----

There was a loud bang on the floor, followed by a flurry of curses. The echoing wooden planks feeling like they made the sound ten times as loud as they truly were. The book itself did no favors to deafening the blow, it’s many pages weighing the tome down even more.

The woman climbed down from the tall ladder, her short heels hitting the floors and clicking in a dulled sound towards the poor fallen object. Overworked hands reached to pluck it up with a gentle motion, brushing it off quickly, as if the dust would somehow ruin the leather that bound it.

A smile spread across the young girl’s lips, and her violet eyes lidded a bit down at the title. There was a youthful joy in her as she drew herself away from the ladder that climbed the many shelves of endless knowledge, and instead brought herself to a well worn table with papers strewn out across its surface.

Scrawled notes in handwriting that looked like a creature’s prints scuttering across the page. A basket to the side with wrapped bread and cheese for nibbling on throughout the work. There was even the treat of a sweet tarte inside, resting at the bottom and carefully saved for the end as a delicious gift to the girls own hard work.

There was a soft sigh, and she pushed back some of her loose black locks into her stiff cloth hat, pulling the scarf more close around her to keep the warmth in her bones. Even if the tall windows brought in the bright daylight, it didn’t disturb the creeping chill that surrounded this library in whole.

She pulled open the book that she saved, letting her hands smooth out the page and carefully lean over it to begin letting her hungry mind quench its thirst in the new words that spilled forth on the pages.

Prisa’s happiness was clear, the smile still on her girlish features as she rested one arm up to lean upon. Despite the discomfort that may be brought on by the wooden stools she was offered, she was happy and content.

How lucky she was.

----

Red wine spilled over into the glass, swirling and washing along the crystalline walls. Rising higher and higher, it drowned out the emptiness and washed up till it was nearly to the brim. Daring to spill over, had it not been for the slender long fingers that held the bottle it had spilled from.

The bottle was set down with a gentle thud, the glass pulled up from it’s silver tray and gently strayed to soft lips. A drink was taken.

Green eyes strayed to a bright window, showing clear skies as far as the eye could see. Brows furrowed at some troubled passing thought.

Those lips now stained with the taste of wine frowned, and a gentle hum rose from the woman’s throat.

Pyrar focused on the reflection tossed back at her. A woman, sitting at ease and comfortable in a plush chair. Red hair like the red wine in her glass, vibrant against her flushed skin; tumbling and ruffled from brushed thoughts through the curling locks. Green eyes looking lost, bleary.

Drunk.

She was drunk.

She told herself that, and even so she didn’t give a care to how it might look or be perceived. She wasn’t going anywhere, that was for sure, and it dulled the senses- dulled the idea of where she was, and what she was doing there.

Dulled her mind off the fact that she was displaced, and away, from where she should be.

‘Home’, she thought. ‘I should be at home. I shouldn’t be here. Not here.’

There was a slow breath that escaped her lips and her eyes averted from the reflection she saw, the emotions that threatened to well up. She bit it down for the time, drowned it in another gulp of wine.

This was not her home, not her timeline, not anything of hers.

She wished it were nothing: a dream from a long night’s rest that she’d eventually awaken from. Even so, it was too real. All too real.

And so she numbed it.

The glass was emptied, the bottle tilted once more, and more wine spilled over to refill the void.

---

Mahogany doors closed behind her, the soft perfumed scent still lingering against her skin like the mist of the oasis falls. A warm touch against her cheek, ghostly traces of fingers that felt like they were still caressing her lovingly.

Her mother's touch had that effect, sitting there with her just as the woman’s words did. While the words had been kind, like sweet honey to the ears, she held more meaning and sternness behind them. An endless amount of wisdom and advice that was woven with just an ounce of careful judgement.

Despite the more harsh nature of her words, the matriarch had nothing but good intentions for her daughter.

‘You cannot always allow yourself to be a child, when you will have one of your own.’

Tali knew that. She really did, but it didn’t change the source of her frustrations. Sure it was childish in the way she presented it, but how else would she go around it.

She remembered that look in her mother’s eyes. A slight glint of disappointment that made her ears flatten, even after she had already left the quarters where her mother resided, and walked the long halls of their home, further, and further away.

Tali understood the weight of that look, the unspoken words that were there behind the clear ones she heard.

She had to take more responsibility, and not just in the sense of taking care of the child she would bear. So long she’d played some part in acting it. She’d been careful to follow along the easy steps, assuring that she’d present herself as the best for her mother, first, and then the clan, second.

She had been proud of that, at least.

But things were different. She did have to do something more, but the question was to be -what- would she have to do? She not only had to show it, but experience it, to get the full brunt of whatever her mother was telling her. After all, simply following orders wasn’t the type of thing a matriarch would do, and if she was to fill such a position, then she needed to think beyond that.

The woman swept into her quarters, closing the first door that lead to one of the two small living rooms. Taking in a deep breath, she swore she could feel the heaviness that still rested on her shoulders from mere thoughts. The weight of a task she hadn’t even thought to start until now.

Stepping along the way, she eventually came to rest in the plush pillows that surrounded a rounded table. Some papers were neatly stacked to the side, all business for her mother, but nothing of her own.

Tali stared at them for a long moment, thinking of all that she did and whatever she could do? It frustrated her, seeing as this all wouldn’t be a problem if only she’d not gotten into such a fit about some simple argument.

No, it wasn’t just that. It had been building, after all, and it was just what should have been expected. Wasn’t it?

The miqo’te leaned back, resting her head on the pillows and looking up to the ceiling and then slowly out of the windows beside her. Moonlight spilled freely through the windows, and what laid beyond was the high valley walls at a distance from their home. Seeing the homes that had been dug into the walls and the large canopies that gracefully moved with the cold evening winds.

For a moment, the young woman thought she couldn’t possibly meet the expectations of them. Someone who throws fits at the slightest thing. Someone who can’t even manage to do more than follow the same steps her mother took before. There was no growth from there, merely a stability that she wasn’t even sure she could maintain if things were to get bad for them all.

The clan deserved better.

Closing those silver eyes, she let out a small huff. Her brows twitched, and a frown was on her lips. She didn’t like that thought at all. Not one single bit. Her ears flicked and she finally murmured, “I have to do something…”

The only answer she received was silence from the room. She was alone there, for better or for worse, at the moment.

Opening her eyes again, she adjusted her head to look further up. Towards the sky and its bright stars she could see beyond the valley walls. The clarity and beauty that she could enjoy right here in her own rooms. It gave her a slight comfort, her tenseness from the meeting with her mother easing just a bit.

She sat there for some amount of time, left alone to her wandering thoughts. But those wandering thoughts brought her to something… an idea while looking to the skies.

Her eyes widened, and she looked almost stunned that she hadn’t thought of something of the sort before. She’d sit up fully, leaning to grab hold of a blank parchment and pull it closer to her. Soon she had found something to write with and began to write hurriedly with a small smile forming along her lips, more, and more.

A week later, she had more papers made with far more precision to the words and their writing. She had sat it in a small, bound, pile, looking quite pleased. She’d prepared herself, dressing in a fitting outfit for a meeting, and making sure she was well and ready for the rather interesting conversation this was surely going to be.

Finally, Tali would reach up, tuning her linkpearl into the proper frequency before she called out crisp and clear to the user on the other end.

“Es’mena. I would like t’ meet with ye, if ye have th’ time.”

- - - Tags - - -

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast @jessipalooza @treyu

#ffxivwrite2019 #Faeravel Kha #Prisa Fontaine #Pyrar Delaisoux #Tali Neldawn #Faeravel #Prisa #Pyrar #Tali #Tal'orei

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