#and who was MORE affected by it all than the Ala Mhigans?

[swiftcast-selene]

Day 6: Road

"aye, aye, I know. it's cold, it's miserable. but count your lucky stars we know these roads at night, and the Imperials don't."

#BEFORE ANYTHING ELSE: I HAND POSED ALL 10 PEOPLE IN THIS IMAGE. PLEASE CLAP. I DID NOT KNOW YOU COULD IMPORT POSES. #however it is far too late now. i have gone insane #miqomarch #miqomarch 2024 #ffxiv miqo'te #seeker of the sun #final fantasy 14 #gposers #PLEASE fullview these i will cry soo so so hard if you don't #ANYWAY. this would be maybe a year or 2 after the calamity...... #he was in the conjurer's guild when it happened and like. the scope and sheer horror of it just cemented the idea he had #that he had to go out there and do what little he was able to do to help #and who was MORE affected by it all than the Ala Mhigans? #post-calamity; in the midst of Garlean invasion; and barred from their one escape route thru the Shroud? #so he spent a few years out there #not necessarily with the Resistance. but with bands of refugees #being passed around as the one magical healer willing to stick around #going to wherever there are the most injured or elderly or sick or kids #trying his hardest to make a difference even though the losses are nearly too much to bear on good days #i'd imagine they had routes where they could accompany people through Gyr Abania so they could make it to safer areas #or where they'd pick up supplies en route or patrol for safety #it's also where he realized like. ohhh. people *will* accept me. i just need to find the right ones. #spent many a night in some stranger's arms not knowing if they'd both still be there the next day... #until the Scions eventually picked him up~ #and promised him he *could* make a difference.

[nosafeharbour]

Day 3: Temper

For prompt Temper, as part of FFxivWrite2022. The heating and cooling of metal, so as to strengthen it. Contains mentions of death.

As all students who commit themselves to the Ul’dahn guild do, Albi began her studies in thaumaturgy by first learning the basics of funerary rites. While the Order of Nald’thal had their own traditions to upkeep, the fundamentals were true enough for any cadaver — ice to freeze and preserve the flesh, until ready for cremation or burial. If the body was to be interred, its owner having paid for the privilege long before its necessity, then lightning magicks would be used to cleanse it of contaminants before consignment to the final place of rest.

The process does not bother her. She wonders if it would have, had she been younger, had the moon not fallen from the heavens, but few could claim to be so fortunate as to have never dealt with remains of the dead after the Calamity. Being able to do so in a manner that helped her to live, to earn her keep… well, it was a better lot that many ended up with. Blizzard and Thunder became part of her repertoire both in the Arrzaneth Ossuary, and outside of it, gifts for the dead.

The fire used to cremate was the most difficult of all to conjure, a feat which separated the wheat from the chaff amongst prospective students. A practitioner had to reach within their own aether, and ignite it, taking care to do so in a controlled manner. The holy act of cremation took restraint, as did refraining from incinerating one’s own skin or clothing in the process. Of all the spells, Albi finds Fire to be the one that comes to her with the most ease, her very being smouldering in such a way where the sparks leap forth with little effort. She volunteers more hours at the Ossuary — there are far more who pass away in Ul’dah with each passing day than there are those who can afford burial, and as such, understudies such as herself are in high demand so as not to let the streets overflow with the dead. Each body taken into her care is another coin in her pocket, another meal or night’s lodgings. For every flame Albi brings forth to send the dead on their way, she casts another for the living, to cull pests or scare away bandits, the bounty offered by the Adventurers’ Guild joining that of the Thaumaturges’ Guild. Day by day, she gets by.

It is not until years later that Albi comes to understand the way fire affects the bodies of the living. There is a certain way in which ceruleum burns the skin, a mottling in scarring left behind that can be differentiated from that of any other kind of flame. Chemical burns tend to pull the skin taught and ugly, something far more messy than the cleaner lick of magic — she sees it on those who had fought at Carteneau, when magitek and the fuel it ran on were decimated by raining debris. She sees these burns on Ala Mhigan refugees and Garleans both, Resistance members and Imperial defectors living side by side in Rhalgr’s Reach. The stench of ceruleum had seeped into her bones in Castrum Meridianum, and had become a close acquaintance by the time she strode onto the battlefield at The Ghimlyt Dark. Her body was mottled with burns by then too, as equally by her own fault as by any other.

Albi watches the artisans of the Crystarium with a wary eye, the clang of metal upon metal a constant din as weapons are forged and armour is cast. The heat of the kilns is sweltering, fires roaring in the backs of their chambers – the majority of the dead in this world need not worry about the legacy of their bodies, aether twisted and reformed in blinding resplendence upon life’s end. It seemed apt that she had thus lost her favour with black magic, her experience in the art of cremation now unneccessary. Better to join the rank and file of those who used that heat as fuel, to quicken steel and forge armaments, protection, a ward against the threat of death rather than being given the burden of handling it’s remnants. Her rifle sits heavy on her back, a marvel of Vrandtic design. Her own armour, Eorzean made, fits high on her neck, concealing the evidence of skirting too close towards her own early cremation.

When she later sees the scars and welts that Gaius bears, covering as much of his body as one would wear finery, Albi finds that she truly understands how flame can twist the flesh, learning more than any funeral could teach her. There are the telltale marks of ceruleum burns blooming over his torso, the skin puckered and twisted. His arms bear raised welts, the shape of his vambraces permanently imprinted, temper-hot metal that so very nearly entombed him. The neat lines form a map across his skin, one that Albi follows with a featherlight touch, telling her about who he was, where he had been, where he was going. She wonders if they still cause him any pain, his stoic countenance refusing to betray as such, wonders if digging her fingers in would cause him to flinch.

The burns that follow on from the edges of his armour are bereft of the chemical singes of ceruleum, the flames that scoured them more arcane in nature. Albi knows that the fires which engulfed the Praetorium that night were predominantly wrought by Ascian and mechanical hand, but it is hard to ignore the fact she had come at Gaius with flame in hand herself. The weight of that hangs heavy between them even now, the smoke of it low and suffocating in the air. They do not speak of it, the same way they do not speak about many things. They are both likely to meet their end within the embrace of fires, be they the embers of war, or more literatim. The words are never spoken aloud, but Albi wonders if she will cremate him one day too, if he would find insult even in death at being inhumed through Eorzean rites.

All heat must eventually cool, tempered steel must be quenched. The sun must set, the calm of night soothing arid earth. Ul’dah sleeps, as do the dead, ashes returned to the land that bore their roots. One day, even the heat of the stars themselves will cool and cease – this, Albi knows. She keeps thoughts of her own mortality at arms length, knowing not whether flame will greet her at the end of it like an old friend. Until then, she keeps the warmth of it close, wielding it for herself, and for loved ones. For the living, for the dead, for who she was and who she will be.

#FFxivWrite2022 #fic #albi #gaius #albael #(implied)

[storms-path]

Day 30 - Sojourn

Arashi awoke to three things. Firstly, a deep, sweltering heat that gave her the strong urge to cast off the blankets she was entangled in. Secondly, a familiar weight sprawled mostly on top of her, rising and falling with her every breath. Thirdly, very loud snoring.

Lyse was asleep, still. Not particularly surprising. The pair had been all over the island the previous day, gathering and combing whatever they could find. Tataru had given them a task, and the commanding mammet several more, and despite everything they were both adventurers at heart. And neither of them had any idea of when to stop until their bodies forcefully reminded them to do so.

Arashi craned her neck to gaze at the curtained window. From the brightness outside, likely late morning. Rare for her to sleep so well and so easily. Minus all the unfortunate incidents which had left her confined to bed and mostly unconscious, of course. Reflexively Arashi touched the latest of her scars, a thick line running down her face and across an eyelid. One of Zenos’s final gifts. She was lucky to be able to see at all from the affected eye, apparently. Still, it would heal in time. All things did. And, she had to admit, it was a hell of a tale to tell when asked about it. Oh, this old thing? I got it at the end of the universe when I fought the last Galvus alive.

Lyse was stirring now, a mess of blonde hair slowly dislodging itself from Arashi’s chest. “Mrnin” it mumbled, before a hand swept away the mess and revealed the bleary-eyed Ala Mhigan beneath. Arashi chuckled, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on Lyse’s lips. Well, it was meant to be a soft kiss. The best laid plans and all that. Eventually the pair parted, though Arashi was seriously considering spending the rest of the day in bed afterwards. But then Lyse was disengaging, crawling out of bed with all the grace of a half-drunk goobbue and eliminating most of the hazy thoughts running through Arashi’s mind.

Their makeshift lodge wasn’t the fanciest, but it had enough walls and windows to keep the elements out, and just enough room for the pair to rest and relax in. Usually the mammets would be getting underfoot as well, crafting and cleaning and generally looking after the hazy chaos of two adventurers given their own private island. But Arashi had made quite clear that she expected privacy and peace at night, particularly from the head mammet who seemed entirely too hands-on for its own good. Under Tataru’s orders it may be, but that thing had its own agenda. Besides, boundaries had to be set. The only person Arashi wanted to see her naked was currently pawing around for the jug of water on their makeshift table.

There was a mammet-sized knock on the door, followed by a gently synthetic voice. “Pardon me, ma’ams, but a ship has been sighted coming into bay! Looks to be Tataru, if I don’t miss my guess!” Well, there went Arashi’s plans. Lyse was immediately making for the door, grasping her hair and pulling it into a makeshift ponytail. Only…

“Lyse.”

“Mm?”

“Clothes.”

“Oh!” Lyse turned a rather brilliant shade of crimson before scrambling to collect the scattered clothes from the night before. Arashi, still working up the energy to sit up, had a shirt flung at high speed against her face. By the time she had managed to dislodge it from her horns, Lyse was already mostly clothed and looking expectantly at her. “Come on, let’s go!” Arashi desperately envied Lyse’s ability to snap herself into lucidity. Would have made her life as an adventurer so much less stressful.

Several minutes later and Arashi was mostly presentable, dressed in an easily-buttoned dark green shirt and a pair of shorts. A sturdy set of boots and her favourite straw hat completed the look. Lyse was dressed similarly sparsely, having repurposed her old shorts for island exploration rather than frantic combat. Her shirt was a ruby mirror to Arashi’s own, minus a few buttons lost to wear, tear and tumble. Together the pair pushed open the door and stepped into the glorious heat and sunshine of the island.

The mammets were already hard at work, likely haven risen with the dawn. Outside of the surprisingly well-insulated lodge, base camp was alive with tiny hammers, shears axes and more as the hired mammet teams laboured to clear out more and more of the undergrowth halting further expansion. The workshops were also hard at work, creating items for export in the La Noscean markets. Arashi had mostly glazed over when the stock market was explained to her, so they were making whatever they had the materials for without much regard for supply or demand. It suited Arashi just fine.

The pair set off down the dusty, makeshift path leading down to the shoreline. Even from the lodge the large ship was visible out in the open waters, along with a steadily growing dot. Treading carefully so as not to disturb the various minions and pets strewn along the beach, Arashi and Lyse made their way to meet their new visitors. Closer still it was easy enough to make out the Lominsan colours blowing proudly in the wind. Not pirates, at the very least. And as the rowboat drew closer, Tataru’s signature pinks became clearer, particularly as she near jumped out of her seat to wave at her shorebound friends. Much to the irritation of the poor sailor actually rowing the boat, Arashi noted.

Soon enough the boat was close enough to pull to shore. Arashi was most thankful she’d chosen the shorts as she waded into the wonderfully warm waters and fought the tides to drag the boat into the sands. Then Tataru was leaping out of the boat, rushing to embrace Lyse and then Arashi in turn. “Happy honeymoon!” she declared, grinning with glee. Arashi could only laugh at her enthusiasm.

“You already said that when you brought us here, Tataru.”

“And I will say it as often as I want, thank you very much!” Tataru was already on her way up the path, leaving the sailor and boat to their own devices. “Now, let’s take a look at how things are coming along, shall we?” She didn’t want for an answer before rocketing off to base camp. With a shared shrug and smile, Arashi and Lyse followed dutifully behind her.

What good was an island paradise without friends to share it with, after all?

#ff14 #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #ffxivwrite2022 #ffxivwrite #arashi washi #lyse hext #tataru taru #wrapping it up with the solution to day 1 #go grab your wife and explore an island all to yourselves #meanwhile sanda and friends are absolutely not getting into shenanigans #anyway that's all she wrote (literally) #this is likely the end unless there's another super bonus round #so thanks for reading and i hope you enjoyed!

[warwaged-moved]

As Hydaelyn's Chosen, she had accepted her role and duty to the people without much of a protest. Had it been another Scion and Minfilia instead took on their role, what would Minfilia's like be like?

ALWAYS ACCEPTING QUESTIONS ABOUT THE MUSES!!

I think, if minfilia didn’t have the echo and had no direct connection to hydaelyn, she’d still have found a way to act for similar causes to the ones she holds canonically. the echo definitely has a very important role in her story, given it is the reason she ends up in a leadership role at all (because she starts going after other people with the same skill to learn more and put it to use, before the scions are formed). more than the echo, though, her father’s influence on her is very important on why she chooses to act in the first place.

if she wasn’t one of hydaelyn’s chosen, she would still have been greatly influenced by warburton to do what is right and stand for what she believes is a worthy cause, even at great personal risk. her dad was a spy who stood up against the empire, and he made enough enemies that he had to flee with minfilia (then ascilia) to ul’dah. it’s the reason why, even after he died, she adopted a new name, and f’lhammin started to pass minfilia as her adopted daughter. but harder as it might make things, not once does she seem to resent him and those choices (she shows much more resentment towards lhammin, for her part in the accident that took her father’s life, and even to thancred, for being there and not there as he is, than she ever shows towards her father, even if his role as a spy put her in danger).

but I think going towards a path more influenced by warburton would have led her to place different importance on what causes she chose to take on? like, as hydaelyn’s chosen, she shows concern towards the world at large, how primals affect the planet, how the empire threatens eorzea, the beast tribes that she’s always defended should be seen as people. in this other scenario, her goals may have been originally more limited, and leaned more towards ala mhigan liberation (which isn’t something her canonical story touches on at all, despite her roots) and going against the empire when it threatens eorzea than the primals and beast tribes part. 

I also think things may have been very different in regards to her being in the front lines as a result? because we know she isn’t in game, as her role has always been more of a leader/administrator than a fighter in any way, but without having the echo and founding the path of twelve, she wouldn’t have ended exactly the same way. personally, I think even in game it’s an oversight that she wouldn’t at least have picked something up to defend herself, considering she’s always been in danger pretty much. but regardless, not starting as the leader of a hidden organization would definitely lead her towards a different path, imo, and I can see minfilia being more capable of doing what she expresses the desire to do in canon: act directly rather than to send people to do things in her stead. 

ultimately, I think her goals and who she’d end up being would still be very much aligned with the scions, so I can totally see her having a place with them, even if the road to get there and her role in the organization would be very very different (without the echo, she wouldn’t have been in touch with louisoix for years, but her being close to thancred doesn’t depend on that, and it’s fairly easy to imagine he’d still have a part on why she ends up with the scions, much like he has a part canonically, considering he’s the one who introduces her and louisoix). echo or not, minfilia is deeply caring and compassionate, as well as ready to stand up for what she believes in and defend what she thinks is important, no matter what. she would want to act for eorzea and the world at large, even if her heritage would also factor more consistently when it comes to causes she cares about. and I think she might have done that more directly, had she not assumed the position she does canonically as hydaelyn’s chosen.

#thanks for the ask!!! #this was so interesting to consider.... #her connection to hydaelyn is obviously deeply important to her character #but I think? a lot of it is also simply who minfilia is. #she is good and kind and compassionate. she cares for people no matter who they are. #she's willing to act and stand up for what she believes in no matter what the personal cost will be for her to do so #without the echo and hydaelyn I just think the greatest influence on her would be indisputably warburton #which in turn would lead her to be less of a leader in the administrator sense probably #but I can see her still ending up as a leader of sorts when it comes to inspiring people towards a certain cause bc that's who she is too #I think she'd still fit in with the scions though. like with what they're up to when we meet them #keeping an eye on things and the big cities and the garleans and the primals #I do also think she'd be more of a fighter (not to go the ry.ne route but. maybe as a rogue even considering her dad was a spy #and the other big influences she has are thancred and lhammin. or maybe a bard because of the later 🤔) #anyways I'm ranting in the tags ignore me 😌 #‣ muse { minfilia warde } — ❝ ANTECEDENT. ❞ #‣ character study { minfilia warde } — ❝ A LIGHT THAT NEVER GOES OUT. ❞ #‣ out of character { the mun } — ❝ THAT GLOOMY GIRL WHO SIGHS A LOT. ❞

[lovehotelreservation]

Formulaic

Summary: There was a process to every solution.

And while Cid was aware of one particular solution he so dearly wished to attain, the process was simply too formidable to even attempt:

To confess his feelings to Maria, the Warrior of Light.

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: WoL!OC/Cid

EVERY TIME I SEE CID I GET WHIPLASH THAT HE’S ONLY 34 HEWWO ??? MANS LOOKS LIKE HE’S GOT WERTHER’S ORIGINAL KISSES NOT LA CROIX MAKEOUT SESSIONS!!!

ANYWAY HFLKAFHAKL THANK YOU TO MY DEAREST COMMISSIONER FOR THIS OPPORTUNITY--ESP SINCE I PROGRESSED FURTHER ON THE OMEGA SERIES BECAUSE OF THIS!!!

---------------- Cid regretted ever fixing that damn kettle.

While doing so finally got the whinging pursed lips of Nero to finally hush up so he could hone his focus upon Garlond Ironworks’ current endeavor of seeking out Omega, the repair of the Mark XIV Thermocoil Boilmaster only served to give his lifelong rival all the opportunity to cozy up to the very person that Cid wanted him to stay the furthest away from.

Or attempt to at least.

A personality utterly kind and demure, eyes grey like rain clouds on a cozy morning, soft and silken locks of gold that cascaded to the middle of her back, a mind so brilliant and witty.

Eorzea’s Warrior of Light, but his own precious weakness.

She was Maria and oh how his heart yearned for her.

All while his eyes bore holes into the ground beneath which Nero stood every time he approached her with a mischievous glint in his eyes and an arrogant smirk on his face.

While Cid was more than overjoyed to see Maria fix herself a cup of tea during the lulls between endeavors in the Datascape, whenever she went to pour herself a drink, Nero was sure to be trailing after her, going on about superior blends in Garlemald and how he was more than ready to show her the breadth of his refined palate.

His intentions were clear.

And though Cid was ever prepared to step in as need be to keep Nero from pestering her further, the crux of the underlying issue in face of all this remained present in place:

His own feelings for Maria.

If the situation called for it, he could easily give a fully articulated lecture on the Allagans while inebriated to the point he was face planted on the floor in a drunken and naked slump right in the middle of Sapphire Avenue during peak Starlight shopping season.

But to confess how he genuinely felt about the woman who captivated him so dearly, who inspired him to go beyond any boundary?

The thought of risking the friendship that he treasured with her like nothing else was enough to push him to drink.

After all, with how often that the world relied on her strength to help defend it, he was protective of her--even lamenting that time he jokingly declared his need for her mainly due to her usefulness while he was guiding her through the tumultuous depths of The Praetorium.

Yet with the aftermath of that infamous night in Ul’dah and her subsequent escape to Ishgard, it was then that he began to realize that his fondness for her went beyond mere allies, mere friends.

This was made apparent the moment they were properly reunited after her far too close encounter with the Vundu at the Sea of Clouds, having successfully escaped pursuit by the Bismarck.

What with the way he could not hold himself back from taking her into his arms, hugging her close as all tension within his body was swiftly relieved as he took her in.

Her presence, her scent, her adorably surprised stammers as he embraced her right in front of Hauchefant and Emmanellain.

Along with Wedge and Biggs, with the former letting out a startled “Chief--!” while the other released the hearty chuckle of “Aye boss, demonstration of affection’s handled a whole lot differently in Ishgard, you know!”

For all his intentions to never let her go from the moment he feared the worst upon her disappearance, he was ever quick to relinquish her, a faint dust of pink spreading across his cheeks.

Cid was thankful that she didn’t seem to catch onto Biggs’s cheeky remark, looking so gorgeously flustered more so from his sudden embrace, despite her attempts to look composed in light of their reunion.

And it was from then on that he happily took his place within her journey, whether physically together during their attempts to thwart the return of Alexander, or when they were apart and remained joined together by way of letter or linkpearl.

To hear her say or see his name in her handwriting was a joy that could not ever be replicated by anything else.

As a pursuer of knowledge, he had to abide by what was factual.

There was no denying of his longing for Maria.

Not while he had Biggs, Wedge, and Jessie chiming in to ask if he had been talking to her whenever they handed her letters to him with knowing smiles on their faces.

And now, with Maria dedicating her time and effort to assist him and the rest of Garlond Ironworks with Omega’s ongoing trials, he could feel his heart welling with his increasingly overwhelming desire to express how he felt.

It was just only more irritating that Nero had stoked the flames by his pompous ways, of which left plenty on Cid’s mind, especially with the completion of the first gambit of battles under Omega’s watch and the return to Rhalgr’s Reach for some needed rest and recuperation.

Though, relaxation was in the furthest corner of his mind, whether by the mystery of Omega’s intentions or his current predicament of his feelings towards Maria.

With the hour late, rather than try to force himself back to sleep within the sleeping quarters set aside for Garlond Ironworks, he thought a walk around the now quiet compound would serve him better instead.

A change between sleeping clothes to a light shirt and a pair of pants--more suitable for the arid Ala Mhigan weather.

There was a small grin on his face as he emerged from the sleeping area.

Already he could hear Maria’s voice of exasperated curiosity with the inquiry of “How are you not evaporating?” whenever she saw his usual day to day attire.

Yet the voice that was in his head was heard by his very ears as he entered the common area that led out to the rest of Western Rhalgr’s Reach.

“Cid?”

Seated at one of the communal tables was none other than Maria, her expression curious and mug in her hands steaming, all while the Mark XIV Thermocoil Boilmaster presided by her on the tabletop.

The gods may toy but sometimes their mischief was simply too much.

His heart aflutter and his grin widening, Cid approached where Maria was sitting. “Well now, someone’s up late.”

The corners of her mouth quirked into a small smile as she proceeded to take a sip. “I see it as being up early.”

But though her tone was jovial and her expression relaxed, there was a distant look in her eye that signified a preoccupation.

He knew that look.

“I see--though, a warrior like yourself ought to get her rest, no?” Pulling out the chair beside her, he proceeded to take a seat, all while his grey eyes gazed towards her with concern. “Tell me, what keeps you up on this good night, Maria?”

While it was often joked that Cid was married to the pursuit of knowledge, he liked to think that his devotion to his studies made him especially perceptive of properly assessing emotion.

For surely, who else happily devoted one’s efforts to knowing so much of Maria such as he?

It was then that she set her mug down on the table.

Just before she turned towards him, her lips forming into a pout.

A pout he so dearly wished to kiss.

Huffing, she remarked as her arms folded over her chest, “Are we speaking about the general burden of being the go-to person for everyone’s dilemma, or that Nero is getting under my skin again? Take your pick.”

No words in modern and/or Allagan vernacular could fully describe the relief that washed over Cid’s body.

Still, always wishing for her to be at peace, he responded in turn with a sympathetic grin as he chuckled, “Ahh, one of those pesky reasons to stay up. What has our comrade in reluctant arms done this time?”

Maria turned her attention towards her mug on the table.

Her favorite one of the Garlond Ironworks’s collection, which Cid always made sure to have on hand whenever she was working alongside them.

Though many thoughts were swirling in her mind at this very moment--especially with Cid sitting right beside at an otherwise romantic hour--she continued as disdain intertwined itself with each word she spoke, “Earlier, Nero insisted that I try his cup of tea, and right when I did, he started gloating about an indirect kiss.”

If the thought of Maria’s voice energized his soul to go on a walk at such a late time, the mere utterance of Nero thinking himself to be so charming he could think to flirt in such a way made the inklings of a migraine begin to form within Cid’s head.

With her body visibly cringing at the recollection, the late hour had her lamenting out loud, “Is every brilliant mind from Galemand as big of a pompous know-it-all like him?”

“Well I like to think of myself as a humble servant to the majesty of study,” Cid teased with a shrug.

Setting her cheek against her palm while her elbow set upon the table, she remarked with a shake of her head, “You’re the exception.”

Cid had to wonder if he just gulped down a mug of tea himself with the rush of heat that suddenly surged through his chest. He let out another laugh, richer, deeper. “I take it that you’re not as keen to receive Nero’s odd attempts at courting?”

Maria’s eyes closed as she groaned at the thought, “I’d rather kiss the floor of the Gold Saucer during the summer season.”

“Then, would you prefer a kiss from elsewhere…?”

And then her eyelids fluttered open.

The lightheartedness in Cid’s tone had subsided into one of sincerity, as matched by the look in his eyes while he peered directly towards her.

Though unsure of how to feel or proceed, everything within her body encouraged her to step forward towards what she had yearned for so long.

And so, ever shyly but with her eyes gazing right into his, she murmured, “...If it must come from elsewhere, it can only come from one person.”

His breath caught in his throat. “‘One person…?’”

Her face grew warm from embarrassment. “I think you can figure it out, humble servant to the majesty of study.

Cid couldn’t resist from gasping with delight. “Gods Maria--”

His hands swiftly cupped her cheeks and their mouths met for a long awaited kiss, the warmth of the tea on her lips making them both melt further into their connection.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, bringing the two of them closer. 

It was yearning now fulfilled, a flood of long withheld affection bursting forth, a craving for one another looking to be satisfied, to be changed from midnight fantasy to joyful fruition.

Kisses once shy and careful turned earnest and heated, tongues stumbling against one another as hands groped with need.

Were it not knowing her penchant for reservation, he would have ravaged her right then and there at the commons table.

Instead, he opted to lift her up into a carry, her arms and legs hugging around his shoulders and waist as he hurriedly brought her back to his quarters, his walk and her tea forgotten.

Surely, this had to be a dream in some way, no?

But as her back fell upon his mattress, as their hands continued to undress and feel each other as physical confirmation that what was occurring was very much real, the joys of the present couldn’t have been more sweet.

And how Cid savored her moans like that of an addictive confection.

Even without trying to be mindful of others at this late hour, Maria stifled her moans out of shyness, all while her back arched into warmth of Cid’s lips as they kissed over her dribbling core, the bristles of his facial hair scratching against her quivering as he eagerly lapped his tongue along her slit with long and indulgent strokes.

Though, she couldn’t quite be as quiet when she was eventually seated on his lap, her face buried into his shoulder as she rode his cock, all while one of his big sturdy hands held onto her hip while the other fondled her ass, guiding her up and down the length of his thick dick at a brisk pace.

This provided an ample opportunity to plant his lips along the crook of her neck, gentle suckles leaving red marks in their wake.

While he knew that Maria would do everything in her power to understandably cover up, the thought of Nero thinking twice to pursue her while seeing the marks on her neck was satisfying.

But nowhere near as satisfying as feeling the muffled whimpers of his name from her lips against his skin, the hot and slippery confines of her slick walls squeezing around his cock, up until they reached their orgasms with her core clamping onto his dick and his seed flooding inside her in a lascivious, scorching burst.

Much like as they began, they ended with their lips on one another’s yet again as they fell back onto his mattress, joined together now by their arms embracing one another, fingers intertwining, his lips against her temple, her head nestling upon the sturdiness of his chest.

Though they would have much to fully confide and earnestly convey once their bodies were properly rested, both Cid and Maria were relieved, their hearts feeling warm.

Far warmer than any brewed cup of tea.

#Cid Garlond #wol x cid #wol x npc #Final Fantasy XIV #FFXIV #Fic #super freaknasty writing

[thebmatt]

FFXIV Write Day 2

Aberrant - departing from an accepted standard OR diverging from the normal type.

CONTENT WARNING: asshole parents denigrating their child with sexually charged language

"Master? A letter arrived for you."

Ahldblaet Fyrilberksyn looked up from the stack of documents with an irritated expression at the servant who'd interrupted him, a hyuran male of fair skin and hair.  "Well, boy? Who is it from then? Twelve save you if this isn't worth interrupting my very important work!"

The man went even paler. "I....I don't know, master. The envelope was not signed. The post markings indicate that it originated in Eorzea, but otherwise the only marking is that of a small green axe. I don't know..."

Ahldblaet's eyes, normally perpetually narrowed due to being deep set in his face, widened in shock. "Give that here!" he shouted. "And be gone with you!"

The servant scurried over to Ahldblaet's massive desk and practically dropped the envelope on the nearest corner before fleeing with all haste, as though for his life. Ahldblaet immediately snatched it from the stack of parchment it had fallen on and inspected the markings that the servant had mentioned.

"Husband?" a voice called from the side door that led from his office further into the home.  Said door opened and a shorter Roegadyn woman stepped through, her ash-colored skin in marked contrast to the sea-blue dress she wore. Her dark grey hair framed a face that wore an annoyed expression. "What is all this bellowing about? You are disturbing my guests. It is...unseemly."

Ahldblaet turned his severe gaze upon the new entrant. He was tall and exceptionally broad, a picture of strength in his youth, but his body had taken on a measure of fat in his older age and more sedentary work. Despite this, and his balding head of hair, his steely eyed expression still cowed many of the people he dealt with on a day to day basis. "It would seem, wife, that the enormous investment we have paid into those mercenaries we dispatched to Eorzea may have finally borne fruit. This is a missive their leader sent me. After our last communication I told him, in no uncertain terms, not to contact me until he had something of note to report. Unless he has foolishly ignored my orders, this would mean he has something."

The woman was not cowed, having long becoming immune to her husband's glares. Impatiently she gestured to the envelope. "Well, open it then, you great oaf!  Maybe we will finally learn where our daughter vanished to!"

Ahldblaet tore the envelope and removed the missive inside. He began to read aloud, knowing from prior experience if he did not, his wife would snatch the paper from his hands mid-sentence. She was not a patient one.

"Masters Ahldblaet Fyrilberksyn and Lady Usynwyda Holaszirnwyn,

I am please to report that after much time and hard work on the part of the Emerald Marauders, we have located your wayward daughter. Furthermore, we have determined the reasoning as to why she evaded both us and every previous mercenary company your lordship sent to retrieve her

First, your daughter is no longer using her given name of Syhrwyda Ahldblaetwyn. Asking after that name yielded no results, aside from the merchants who recognized it only as pertaining to you. By sheer luck, we eventually stumbled across a Roegadyn language scholar who knew the translation of her first name and directed us to an adventurer known as 'Fearless Willow', one of the Warriors of Light.

I am hoping the story of the Warriors of Light does not require an explanation for your lordship, but I will remind you that these people are slayers of godlike beings who regularly enslave the minds of mortals around them, have engaged massive numbers of Garlean soldiers and magitek armor, defeated Imperial Legatuses in single combat (including the Crown Prince), and decisively ended a thousand-year war between a dragon horde and the nation of Ishgard.

From there, we set out to determine if this woman and your daughter are one and the same. It is well known that one of the Warriors of Light is in fact a Roegadyn woman, but we needed to be certain. Adventurers are often well traveled and thanks to the Aetheryte network, difficult to track. Your descriptions were also primarily of the physical sort, which did not help, as appearances are easy enough to change.

We caught a break in speaking to one of the mercenary crews you'd previously hired. Many of them had been either entirely wiped or or reduced in numbers to the degree that they'd disbanded. What few remained refused to speak with us once it became clear who we were tracking. One particular mercenary of an Ala Mhigan band (known as the Graybear Den, which if you recall abruptly returned your payment and refused the contract) however, let slip some valuable information after our agents plied him with enough drink. Once he realized who we were speaking of, he grew agitated and swore he would never help us find 'the Warrior o' Light". It would seem the Graybears believe they owed a measure of loyalty to the Warriors of LIght for their instrumental parts in liberating their homeland.

It was, however, enough. Once we determined that your daughter and this Warrior of Light were in fact one and the same, we began looking for ways to isolate her and take her prisoner. Unfortunately this has proven extremely difficult. As they are involved in affairs that affect the entirety of the star, the Warriors of Light are often on the move, moreso than normal adventurers. Furthermore, as I have mentioned, they are peerless warriors, often in each other's company or those of their fellow Scions of the Seventh Dawn. If you don't know the order, suffice to say they are Warriors and Scholars both who labor on behalf of all peoples to defend the world against tyranny and false gods. They are exceptionally successful in this regard. The Scions often meet and collaborate with the leaders of various powers on this continent, who are often accompanied by their own soldiers or bodyguards.

We have remained patient however, and managed to catch a glimpse of her. As I mentioned was likely, she has extensively changed her appearance. Her hair is now of a longer cut and nearly all black, with only highlights of the teal you had mentioned remaining. She has also taken to wearing dark makeup.

We have also determined that unlike her fellow Warriors of Light, she does not dwell in the Scion's headquarters. Instead, she has taken to living in the Hingashi port city of Kugane, where she has a modest home in the district of the city reserved for foreigners.

Finally, and you may wish to brace her ladyship for this part, she does not live there alone. Our spies have reported that her home is occupied by two other women, and their observations of them interacting within the city indicates that the three of them are lovers

We believe that this is our best shot at capturing her, but the price for her return to you has just doubled.

You are doubtless shaking with rage, but you hired us to retrieve a woman that you led us to believe would provide minimal resistance. Even isolated from the other Scions in Kugane, we believe we will face extreme resistance in this job. For starters, your daughter has mastered several forms of combat, including the ways of the Hingashi samurai, the axe-masters of Abalathia's Spine, and the art of thaumaturgy. She is also known to wield the Sharlayan art of Astrology, and has mastered a form of dance from Radz-at-Han that wields circular blades with deadly precision.

Furthermore, Fearless Willow is a known and loved name within the borders of Kugane, despite being a foreigner in a city that remains neutral to all concerns beyond their borders. She was instrumental in aiding their geomancers in repelling an attack from a fox-like beast known as 'Kinko' and she also trained alongside the Sekiseigumi (the samurai order that enforces the laws of the city, brutally so) and helped them put down a rebellion from within their own ranks. One of her lovers is a high ranking member of the Sekiseigumi. The other is a member of her dance troupe who is on an extended tour in the city. She is every bit as deadly in the art as Fearless is.

The point is that, even isolated from the other Scions, many people will rush to her aid. We expect heavy resistance and significant losses. The original reward will not suffice to cover this.

We will not move forward with this operation until we have your confirmation of acceptance of the new price. And we suggest you hurry, as events brewing suggest your daughter will soon be called back to the fight, at which point it is impossible to tell when we will have another opportunity

Cmdr Guji Pokiji Chief Executive, Emerald Marauders  

Ahldblaet set the letter on his desk, shaking with rage as he looked to his wife."How DARE that miniscule INSECT think to extort us?? A Warrior of Light, indeed. As if our useless fool of a daughter has the brains to take on even one sort of combat discipline, much less five! How gullible does he THINK us to be?"

Usynwyda nodded, a disgusted sneer on her face. "The NERVE of her, to merely toss aside the name we chose for her, only to refer to herself in the....ugh...common tongue! Still, the name cannot be a coincidence. Whatever other lies that little gnat undoubtedly told, this is the best lead we have had on Syhrwyda since she ran away."

"It is. And if they are not all lies, then it is all the more imperative we retrieve her before word of any of this gets out among our enemies. The very idea that she would toss aside the husband we painstakingly chose for her after careful selection and delicate negotiation in favor of laying with another woman, much less two! I worried she would do stupid things, but this level of degeneracy, of abberance? It is unconscionable!"

Usynwyda shuddered. "We cannot let this get out. I can never face any of the ladies if they should learn my daughter has become no better than some...common whore. We must marry her off to the Greinmyrgan boy with all haste before she does any further damage to us, to the company."

Ahldblaet scribbled furiously. "I am already writing orders to have our ship made ready and for our elite guards to prepare for a journey. We will find her and we end this nonsense."

Far away, in Kugane, the Warrior of Light known as Fearless Willow shuddered as she prepared to fall asleep. She had no ping from the Echo, no signal from her finely honed danger sense to explain it, but she definitely felt as if trouble was heading her way, and no idea what it might be.

#FFXIV 2021 Writing Challenge #Final Fantasy XIV #Fearless Willow #God her parents are the worst #Hopefully I get to write about Rheika's mom at some point so I can have some good parent balance

[sezja]

In Captivity

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV

Ship: Background Sanson/Guydelot

Note: The WoL mentioned here is @lesenbyan's Eve (Evelynn Blythe on Goblin)

-

He wakes reluctantly, aware at first only of the pounding in his head and the sound of nearby voices, too indistinct to recognize - but Sanson knows which voices he doesn’t hear, and he forces his eyes open. Though his vision swims at first, gradually the unfamiliar shapes and colors refine themselves into something more recognizable: trees, rocks, grass. The Twelveswood. He has returned to the Shroud.

Where…?

“Awake, are you?” He knows that voice. Queasy from more than his injuries, Sanson looks around: this is a rushed campsite, not meant to last more than a night at most, and hidden, with sentries posted at the perimeter. He appears to be the only captive, with two frowning guards standing over him, armed, despite his bound hands and feet. And standing with the guards…

Nourval.

The treacherous snake kneels, regarding Sanson with that all-too-familiar smile: sinister, now that Sanson knows the danger that smile conceals. “You gave us something of a struggle,” Nourval says, smug and self-satisfied. “But here we are. And how are your bonds, Captain? Tight enough?”

“What became of Evelynn?” He remembers now: the Warrior of Light was summoned to a meeting, and Sanson had encouraged her to go. A trap, he now realizes, just as surely as his own summons; a trap meant to lure them away from the safety of the Castrum. But he does not see Eve here… nor Guydelot. Nor does he know what passed after he left the Castrum - perhaps Guydelot, too, was summoned to a similar trap. Or worse.

“The Warrior of Light did precisely as required of her,” Nourval replies, his smile never wavering. “She survived our ambush, of course. I expect that was your concern?”

It was. Sanson breathes easier; he never doubted Eve’s prowess, certainly, but to have it confirmed… “And Guydelot?”

“What of him?”

“Is he unharmed?”

Nourval sighs. “Of course. Alive and well and already back in Gridania, by our last reports. Had we known you entrusted the journal into his keeping…”

He remembers, abruptly, being thoroughly searched after his defeat - at the time, he’d not thought to wonder what it was they were seeking, only the humiliation of defeat and the fear for his comrades. Gylbarde’s journal. Of course - after so long seeking the tome, small wonder if Nourval had hoped to reclaim it. It was fortunate indeed that Sanson had thought to give it to Guydelot before hastening off to aid Eve; he’d thought it best if there was no chance of it falling into enemy hands… perhaps the only stroke of luck in this whole debacle.

That and Guydelot’s safe return to Gridania. But what now?

There is only one answer, Sanson realizes, chilled. “You mean to ransom me for the journal.”

“For the truth.” Nourval settles himself more comfortably on the ground, as though they are two old friends, chatting about something as inconsequential as the weather. “For justice. You read it, yes? You know what they did to Vainchelon: lured him to a private meeting under a flag of truce, then slew him in cold blood.” His eyes narrow. “They cannot be allowed to hide from this. Ala Mhigo cannot be allowed to rise to power with my ancestor’s blood on their hands.”

“What you want isn’t justice,” Sanson says, trying to sound reasonable instead of terrified. “What you want is vengeance, and it will solve nothing. The man who killed Vainchelon is dead-”

“They share the guilt!” Nourval’s hands curl into fists - not in violence, but passion. “They’re all the same - every one of them would have done as Gylbarde did, given the opportunity, and they all must suffer the consequences. Vainchelon fought for Gridania’s freedom.” He leans forward, peering intently into Sanson’s eyes. “You are Gridanian, Sanson, and proud - I know you are! How can you turn from Vainchelon’s legacy? We would be no better than slaves if not for his courage and determination in the face of Ala Mhigan conquest.”

Clearly a different approach is needed. “Justice for Vainchelon is a worthy goal,” he says, carefully. “But surely Ala Mhigo has suffered enough? Through the efforts of the Alliance and the Warriors of Light, they have finally won free from Garlean rule. You would see them plunged once more into war, when-”

“But that is precisely why we must strike now,” Nourval insists. “They will never be weaker than they are now, and if the truth of their crime is laid bare, they’ll shortly lose their allies in the other nations. They can be crushed easily and quickly.” He smiles, patting Sanson’s knee. “Once the commanders at the Adder’s Nest do as I ask and release the journal’s contents in exchange for your safe release.”

Oh, gods. Closing his eyes, Sanson takes a slow, deep breath.

“They won’t.”

“Not until your foolish friend hands the journal over, at any rate.” Nourval’s smile never wavers, though it grows harder at the edges. “As yet, he is refusing to surrender it, but doubtless in time they’ll pry it from his fingers whether he likes it or not. We’ve not yet sent our demands, but perhaps once we do, they’ll handle his idiocy as it deserves.”

Oh, Guydelot. Clinging to the journal in hopes of using it as leverage, no doubt - foolish indeed, but it makes Sanson’s heart ache with affection all the same. It’s a wonder the bard hasn’t come after him of his own accord… but then, he’d need to know where to search, wouldn’t he? And would he even know Sanson had returned to the Twelveswood? No. Sanson himself has no idea how they successfully crossed Baelsar’s Wall unnoticed. Not that Sanson expects that will stop Guydelot forever. The Adders almost certainly won’t stir to save Sanson, but Guydelot… gods, but Guydelot will, one way or another.

Blinking back the sudden stinging in his eyes, Sanson shakes his head. “Nourval, the Order won’t risk war with Ala Mhigo for the sake of one soldier. We’re already on the brink of open war with the Garlean Empire - to keep the truth of Vainchelon’s death hidden, they won’t hesitate to allow my death.” A horrifying reality sets in. “You’ve only doomed us both.”

Nourval’s eyes are flinty. “And when word gets out that the Adders slew us - and one of their own men! - to keep the truth silent, Gridanians will not stand for it. They will demand the journal’s release: to know what we died for. What was meant to be kept buried. Do you suppose all of those loyal to Vainchelon’s memory are here? There are those who know the truth and will see it brought to light - even should that light be shed only by the shedding of our blood.”

“You-” Sanson steadies his voice once more. “You are prepared to be a martyr for this cause. And to make of me a martyr as well.”

“Vainchelon is my ancestor,” Nourval replies, gazing down at his own hands, uncurling his fists. “I will see to it he is avenged, alive or dead. You should be honored: your death will not be in vain. But perhaps you’re wrong.” He stands, brushing himself off. “Perhaps your friend will turn in the journal, and perhaps the Order of the Twin Adder and the Seedseers will see the righteousness of my cause. Don’t give up hope, Captain Sanson; the truth may yet prevail.”

Sanson watches him walk away, sick at heart.

Guydelot… I pray you think of something quickly.

#sanson smyth #guydelot thildonnet #nourval #my writing #ffxiv #i'll probably do more on these two because...... i love them #but yeah sanson never for a second believed the adders would come to his rescue #but on the other hand he never for a second DOUBTED guydelot would

[farplane]

DAY 24: ILLUSTRIOUS

(cw: mild sexual content at the end of the first part)

“Anything yet?” Seax asked from the bed.

Wulfric, sitting by the dwelling’s sole window, stifled a yawn. “No trace,” he reported. “How long did you say we had to watch for?”

“I didn’t say.” That was why Wulfric had asked; he was trying to be polite. “It’s not very complicated. We just wait until that fuck Véland shows up, we teach him a lesson, we leave. Did you have to have your boot daddy explain simple assignments to you over and over back in your soldiering days, or are you just like that with me?”

Wulfric ignored the sour taste in his mouth and huffed out a breath, stretching out his legs. He kept his eyes on the movement out in the Sprawl; his focus on the Undercity always rooted out any discomfort he might have with the past before it could take.

“Far be it from me to be callous towards your friend’s plight—Véland does sound like a prime cock—but isn’t it entirely possible that he just won’t show? I mean, she’ll want to sleep in her bed eventually, won’t she?”

“She won’t be sleeping in that bed if she’s afraid he might come to steal into it,” Seax replied with a chill to her tone much unlike the unaffected attitude she had towards most things. “I’ve got her somewhere safe; she’ll be sleeping fine there.” 

And maybe she understood something Wulfric didn’t intend to communicate when he glanced at her, because she shook her head, clicked her tongue, and added, “Number of favours I owe her, I’ll stay a moon in her place to knife a man who’s got her scared if that’s what it takes—are we clear on that? If you’re so bored with being warm and dry for a few hours, I can stand watch on my own and you can fuck off.”

“That’s not what I was saying at all, Seax,” Wulfric said, as reasonably as he could make it sound, once it was evident Seax had finished speaking; if he’d learned anything from her since coming to the Undercity, it was that you didn’t interrupt someone like her, even if it was with the intent of correcting a misunderstanding.

“No? What are you saying, then?”

“Just that there are more efficient ways of fucking up a guy when you know his name, his face, his haunts and his friends.”

Seax liked that; her voice edged back towards the unbothered. “Ever so proactive,” she said lightly. “Normally, I would agree with you, but this is different. He gets a knife in a gutter, and that can be the work of any rotten fuck he’s gotten on the wrong side of this week. But he gets it in her house, and that teaches the whole neighbourhood: no one fucks with Eda and gets away with it. Not on my watch.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Wulfric said. 

Perhaps for the third time since he had sat down by the window, he pulled his dagger from the sheath at his thigh to busy his hands, running through the balance drills he’d learned from his blademaster as a youth. Easy as breathing.

Seax watched him flip the knife again and again, twirling it with the flat of the blade between his fingers, shifting his grip from forward to reverse. Then she said, “I know you’re eager to bloody your teeth, little wolf—” and in this she was wrong about him: he’d never been eager for blood, not really, just for anything to keep him moving— “but you’re going to drive me up the walls. Come here.”

He stilled the knife and pointed to the window, questioning.

“We don’t need to see him coming. If he shows, we’ll know.”

Wulfric supposed that was true. He shrugged, sheathing his dagger as he stood and crossed the short distance from the front of Eda’s home to her bed, which she separated from the rest of her place with a curtain Seax kept drawn back. At Seax’s invitation, he sat across the foot of the bed and kicked off his boots.

“She won’t mind us being in here?” he asked with some remnant of topsider modesty—or whatever it was Seax called it.

“I owe her a lot of favours, but still not enough that I’ll sleep on the fucking floor just to avoid her bed while I’ve got her good and cozy in my hideout.”

At that, Wulfric chuckled and stripped off his coat, boyishly satisfied when he managed to toss it over the back of Eda’s lone chair. Again Seax watched him, chin tucked in her palm, as he rolled up his sleeves. Without warning, she reached out to trace a finger over the thin band of black ink revealed just below his left elbow.

It wasn’t the first time an Ala Mhigan had touched his tattoos—he’d had enough lovers follow the lines on his skin to adjust from the feeling of wrongness to appreciating their touch, but Seax’s curiosity felt different. Sharp, like the rest of her; and he liked that about her, that rough loyalty that was conveniently devoid of affection. He simply hadn’t been prepared for it to come in contact with the still-raw Nhalmascan parts of him, even though she’d already bedded him more times than he could count.

“These are so strange,” she said, tilting her head as she studied the lines at the side of his neck. Her thumb brushed the pattern down the shell of his ear. “Are they from the glorious soldiering days? Battle marks?”

“What does it matter?”

Seax shrugged and dropped her hand to his lap. “Doesn’t,” she said, giving his thigh a squeeze. “Bloody touchy all the time.”

Unceremoniously, she shifted her weight to lean towards him and began to unlace his trousers. Wulfric raised his hands.

“What are you doing?”

“Passing the time,” Seax said simply, slipping a hand inside his trousers. “Why, you got a better idea?”

He shook his head. “Not one,” he said; his mind had very quickly emptied. “Carry on.”

“Good boy,” Seax said. She drew closer so that her mouth was close to his ear, but refused any reciprocal touch. “Hands to yourself. Remember: you’re done when I say.”

Wulfric bit back a reflexive aye, sir. With her, it was always better to say nothing.

/

(Marco had stuffed more coal into the stove than was reasonable in anticipation for his return; Wulfric saw the thoughtfulness in the gesture the moment he stepped inside the cellar, but didn’t comment on it. He never knew how to say the simplest things, these days.

“How was it?” Marco asked, sitting up in bed. The movement made Montblanc groan at his feet and huddle closer, laying his head on Marco’s lap with no acknowledgement of Wulfric’s entrance.

“Bad,” Wulfric replied wearily. He gestured to his half-soaked clothing, but said little more, not wanting his foul mood to infect Marco when he was so close to sleep. As he yanked off his boots, he said, “Don’t worry about it. There’s nothing to be said about Bernt’s incompetence that can’t wait until morning.”

Rather than watch Wulfric hop around on one leg while he peeled off his wet trousers, Marco leaned over the bed to toss him a dry pair. “Here. These’ll keep you warm while yours dry.”

“Thanks. Fucking freezing.”

Wulfric removed his shirt next and laid out his clothes to dry; for a moment he lingered in front of the stove, shivering as the heat warmed his bare chest and arms. He shook out the wet tips of his hair, too, fingers catching on the beads threaded into his braids.

“Hey, Wulf. Can I ask you something?” Marco asked carefully. He scratched Montblanc’s head with an idleness to his hands, just for something to do that wasn’t staring at the black lines under Wulfric’s shoulder blades.

“Of course you can.”

“Your tattoos. They mean something, don’t they?”

At first, Wulfric meant only to nod and leave it at that, knowing Marco wouldn’t push; instead he sat at the edge of the bed, folding his hands together, his thumb running back and forth across the line running down the center of his middle finger.

“They’re… my fate,” he said with something of a shrug, because he could think of no better word. “In Nhalmasque, we have seers; we seek them out before adolescence to hear a pronouncement on our fate, and then they draw our life lines on our bodies. We preserve them throughout our teenage years, and when we come of age, those we didn’t let fade get tattooed. I kept all of mine.”

Marco nodded, serious. “What did the seer say they were?”

“She didn’t. It’s up to us to give them meaning; some of them I’m still not even certain of.”

Wulfric could feel Marco’s eyes on his back, and the question he was too polite to ask.

“These I know,” Wulfric said, crossing an arm over his chest to tap a finger over his shoulder. “Avis and Gawain. I trust them with my back.”

“I get it,” Marco said, and Wulfric knew that he did—knew that he was thinking of Ashley and Élodie. If he was Nhalmascan, they might be lines on his back, too.

He didn’t ask which ones Wulfric hadn’t figured out yet, and Wulfric didn’t wonder; one day, sooner than he expected, he would know the Undercity for one of the lines down his neck, like a blade at his jugular.)

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2021 #c:wulfric #c:seax #f:xiv #city of shade

[nijah-wolff-xiv]

Say Something

She hated conflict that wasn’t of the more physical type. Being hands-on in combat or sorting things out through blows between her and another was always easier to wade through than the more verbal type of confrontation, especially when it had so much to do with flaring emotions. Nijah didn’t do well with an overabundance of emotions -- not her gig. Never was. It wasn’t to say she didn’t feel them or couldn’t. Those parts of her were always buried so deep for safekeeping and for obvious reasons.

This day she had arrived to partake in a few cups of coffee within the Company. To roam about, check the commission's postings and the hunts that were coming in. If she was unable to leave and go too far in case she was needed for the more secretive assignments in her lap, then looking about and finding something a little closer in the sandbox wasn’t entirely awful.

What had been a friendly conversation over coffee with herself and a few others, became a quick and heated debate that ultimately drew her into the personal shitstorm that was brewing up between Dawn and Osric. Something she had only been privy to like someone on the outside looking in, knowing only a few details of the relationship gone wrong, two sides of the same story told to her by two different people. But still, she had been inserted. Inserted so much that she had no other choice but to dive headfirst into that tasteless, bitter hole of confrontation slathered in high emotions and verbal bumbling.

Osric sighed. "I was assigned to protect Bleakpoint at...age 22 or 23? I was young - and apparently stupid, though there are thoughts who might argue I never outgrew that. After about a year there, I returned from patrol to find that some of the villagers were shifting into these...abominations. Others had consumed food and drink that contained dragon's blood. I thought it the work of heretics, and my job was to put down anyone I knew to have consumed dragon's blood as they were a perceived threat. During the course of the fight a...young women I'd been involved with approach. She didn't appear affected, and I let down my guard. She knew the weak point in my armor. A few inches higher and I wouldn't be sitting here. But her aim wasn't accurate, and I managed to get the lance around, knocking her back and drove the lance through her before being mobbed by the other villagers. I killed what I could, but it was a passing patrol who happened to hear the commotion that finished them off and carried me back to Falcon's nest. It had been planned. All of it, from the moment of my arrival. The young woman? Was sent out to distract me, and it was effective. While her mother went about making sure that the dragon's blood was distributed to the villagers. It was her mother, transformed into whatever she was, that I encountered."

A cough came and Dawn cleared her throat a moment, careful not to move about too much and spill her drink- she picked it back up and took another sip to settle her throat.

The Ala Mhigan woman sitting beside Dawn rolled her neck and shoulders, leather and straps adjusting on their own as she did so. A small glance was afforded to Dawn before she looked back to Osric, "I see. So a trip for closure then? Well, I guess since you killed the creature, you're resting easy now. Hopefully the closed chapter helps." all the while Dawn furrowed her brow at the story. There were a couple things to take in there.

"It was meant for closure. And there was some - and some reopened wounds that I suppose will just take time. What was left of the village I saw burnt to the ground before I returned. There's nothing to be found there." Osric sighed.

"For you, certainly now."Nijah spoke again and set her empty mug down along the table and she adjusted her elbows casually along her knee, "It's good you came back unscathed. The best outcome I would hope?"

Dawn was unnaturally quiet as she seemed to be processing the story as she sipped some more. A hundred thoughts ran through her head in that very moment and her eyes veered around the room while she thought. Landing on anything besides Osric and Nijah at either of her sides.

"Preferable to me being a popsicle in the middle of the Western Highlands, yes. It wasn't what I was expecting, but then again, I didn't really know what to expect in the first place."

"Or well, you know, bleeding out in the snow from something trying to kill you or tear you open. But yes, the thought of an Osric-icicle is probably an easier thought to swallow." Njiah followed up with.

Osric swirled the contents of his mug before taking a sip. "I've experienced the former before, and don't recommend it. Either way - it's done."

Nijah licked her lips, that tongue doing that pass over to the corner of her mouth as her mouth remained semi-open. A look cut to Dawn again. It was certainly odd to hear her silence. It was deafening, "Ay." she spoke, still looking to Dawn for a spell and then pivoting her glance to Osric, "That is good then. And thus, the next chapter comes."

Taking the moment to do so, Osric drew his gaze to Dawn before it shifted back to Nijah. "...That's the hope."

"Any idea what is on the docket next? Any future works you plan on chasing?"Nijah asked as Dawn gave her trademark lips pursed to one side and sighed a bit through her nose. She had nothing to offer to the conversation currently though she had been silent for quite some time, processing. She knew nothing of being frozen aside from a single trek through Ishgard and definitely nothing of bleeding out in the snow.

Osric shook his head. "Depends on what comes through the company, I suppose."

"Fair enough."

"...And what of you two? Nijah - I rarely see you here and Dawn I haven't seen you since...it's been several weeks."

Nijah bobbed her foot while her legs were crossed at the knees, "In between jobs, and I have reasons to stick around. Hadriel has me on standby at the moment so I am simply waiting on some....news to pass through the vine. I'll be shipped out again soon enough I imagine."

This caused Osric to quirk an eyebrow at the word 'reasons', but downed the remainder of his coffee, choosing - once again - not to press.

The look didn’t escape the Ala Mhigan woman as she had been staring right at the man, conversing with him. Ever the observant soul to those around her. It caused her to tilt her head, "What?" Nijah bobbed her foot again watching Osric.

Dawn appeared forlorn at this point, slowly sipping at her drink in hand. She raised her head and looked over in Osric's direction though she couldn’t see much, as per the norm. "I've been here... No dravanians or murderous intent from lost loves that I know of..." This response caused Nijah to blink and her tongue rolled as she ticked a gaze to Dawn when she spoke so pointedly.

The Dragoon turned his mug between his hands, glancing at Nijah for a moment to answer her question, "Hm? Oh, nothing." His gaze shifted and settled on Dawn for a beat before he sighed, setting his empty mug on the bar.

Doctor Aethwyn listened between the two, turning her head as she heard them speak. She must have been lost in her own world for some time contemplating, "Hmn? What's nothing?" Nijah had pursed her lips as she regarded Osric once more. A mirrored silence and raise of her own brow. Suddenly, she felt like she had been missing something. A series of blinks came and she looked to Dawn once more.

Osric exhaled slowly. "Me overthinking things is nothing. I'm glad you're here, Dawn - and I hope you've been well." He swallowed roughly before reaching up to rub the back of his neck as he stood.

He was met with a furrow from Nijah’s brow as she looked between both Dawn and Osric, "Wait a second now." she tilted her head to regard the two, finger lifting to point in Osric's direction, "You've been making faces all morning, say it's nothing, but now it's you overthinking things and then you want to guilt Dawn who has been sitting here silently. What's eatin' ya?"

Dawn seemed to be looking for her straw again before she managed to finish her drink and set it on the table. Then her eyes directed over to Osric, seemingly straight at him. "Osric... -" she paused after Nijah spoke. She mouthed to herself, 'Making faces'? She tried to understand what was going on.

"It's not my intent to guilt anyone. I'm genuinely glad that she's here and safe. I'm just realizing how absent I've been." Osric spoke with a shake of his head.

Nijah's expression was free of all friendly-mirth she harbored earlier, finger lowering back to her knee. It was very obvious that things had somehow taken a turn for the worse when they started discussing her station upon Hadriel's request. Was the tension in the air just something she had been missing until now? Her confusion wore thin but the woman wasn't daft enough to try and put pieces together, even with the few she had, "You've been gone for a few weeks."

"You've also avoided my question which you seem quite apt at doing. Avoiding the things you don't wish to talk about but don't mind throwing expressions. I like you, but generally, when you engage someone in conversation you continue with it and not throw sideways expressions at them and follow up with ‘nothing’. So are you going to listen to what Dawn has been up to in your absence, or are you done?" Nijah then motioned her hand towards Osric, "Please. Be plain and spare the lofty brows."

Osric blinked slowly. "Yes - I want to know how she's been and what she's been doing since I've been gone. It's why I asked the question."

"You look to be leaving."

He sat back down at that on the barstool, leaning forward to rest his elbows against his thighs, hands resting between his knees. "...In the past when we'd talk, the 'I'm here' would be the end of the conversation. I -assumed-, and I did say I was working on not assuming, that that was the case here. I'm sorry, Dawn - for interrupting."

Dawn shook her head, "What are you overthinking, Osric? You've been making faces? I don't understand what you mean by what you just said..."

And there, Nijah sat and tilted her head which was ultimately cradled by her hand, elbow at her knee. A frown was present and she simply looked between the two at her right. Once more picking up the pieces but not really having a full picture. It was fine by her, personal stuff was messy anyways. Lulling her head to look at her mug she picked it up to regard it being empty.

He sighed, running his hands over his face. "Everything. I'm overthinking everything, Dawn - and it's because of that, that I've been 'making faces' all morning. I'm recognizing how little I know about people's connections to each other, how little I know about what other people do here, how little my ..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "I sound like a child."

The Doctor huffed and shook her head violently, "I don't understand what you mean. What are you talking about? What about people's connections have you misunderstood or were overthinking? I can't speak to you plainly if you won't speak to me plainly." she practically shouted.

"Black coffee, dearie."Conobharo entered snagging up his mug, sipping it while he watched the scene play out upon coming downstairs and seeing the three Hyur speaking; Dawn practically shouting. He was met with Nijah approaching the bar and getting a refill on her own cup. The two seemingly shared some conversation lowly while Dawn and Osric spoke, “Best to just drink and not ask questions.”

"Duely noted. I'll be sure my existence ‘ent too much a burden." Conor scoots onto the bench, and quietly sipped at his drink as well as Nijah when she sat at the bench with a refill in hand.

Osric's jaw clenched. "Maybe it was -both-, Dawn. I -missed- you, but it doesn't seem that my absence was noted. And before it even goes there, I am fully aware that you can have connections with other people and I'm glad you have that support." His voice was eerily calm, his hands clasped together. "Every time I say something it gets a face, or you go quiet, and I feel like I don't know where stable footing is anymore."

The Sniper furrowed a brow and she bore a deep gaze to her right over her shoulder while lifting up her cup. Was she just being lumped into this? Inhaling deeply she opted to turn back to engaging with Conor quietly.

Dawn rapidly shook her head again and ran a hand along her forehead to grasp frustratedly at her hair. "Both... both what? Misunderstanding and overthinking? I -STILL- don't know what you're misunderstanding or overthinking because you keep dancing around the subject. And you're making... you're making faces in front of me that I can't see? If you're glad that I have connections and support, what are we even talking about then? -I'm- the one making faces?" she continued, her hands shaking, "Should I be the one who knows where stable footing is? I would be -happy- if you pointed out where I can spot it." She seemed to be taking some methodical deep breaths to regain a semblance of sense. She narrowed her eyes a moment, maybe she wasn't making sense.

He ran a hand through his hair as he took a steadying breath, shaking his head. "That I'm not part of that. The connections and support. I haven't been since Ishgard."

Dawn brought a hand to her chest as she seemed to try to reign in her hyperventilating, she grabbed at the pendant. "Still, I don't understand, what are you making faces at? Can you just tell me without speaking in vague notions?" It was here, partway in her low discussions with Conor that Nijah pursed her lips, her attention drew over her shoulder to the couch between the pair but mainly focused on Dawn. All of this caused Osric to stand and walk over to the edge of the couch, kneeling down - but not touching Dawn in the process. "I'm making faces because I feel like everyone knows you better than I do. That I've been...replaced. That Nijah meets your needs better than I do - and maybe she does. That I've caused you more harm than anything else. There. No vague notions, no talking around anything."

Conobharo said nothing but made a confused expression in Nijah’s direction. Nijah’s mouth opened slightly and she watched the pair, curious on how that conclusion came about; or rather why and being lumped in with their own personal affairs. At least for Dawn's sake, she seemed to have her answer. Sighing, she closed her eyes and turned back to face Conor and settled the commission slips down along the wood. Between them. There was an uneasy tension in the room. Something that left a bitter taste in the woman’s mouth and still Conor’s gaze refused to budge from Nijah -- questions written all over his face. All the while, Dawn had been staring directly at Osric, "That she meets my NEEDS better? What are my needs then? Wh-... what?" Dawn’s jaw dropped. She was clearly taken aback. "Wh-why is she even a consideration in this? A replacement? Do you even know when you caused me the most harm?"

"No - I don't because you won't talk to me, Dawn."

Dawn began to shout again, "One! One answer! One answer to my many questions! I'll tell you, I'll answer your question that you never asked until -now- exactly after you answer my questions." she started welling up in tears as she waited.

Ye know, Nijah, 'm finkin' the fireplace upstairs'd be right cozy on a cold day like 'is." The room, and the weather today, were both perfectly lukewarm. "Care t'join me?" Conor cut in, breaking the silence for a brief moment.

He was met with Nijah finally opening her eyes as she regarded Conor across from her, "No." she tapped her index finger along the wood of the hearth. Had it been offered earlier, sure. But now that she was roped into this mess by name she considered her options. Tap, tap, tap. Ther finger ever so softly drummed in whispers at the grain.

Osric swallowed roughly. "I don't know. I don't know what your needs are, because you wouldn't tell me before and you certainly haven't told me since Ishgard. She's a consideration because outside of Mira, she's the only other person I've seen you spend any extended time with that wasn't work - and yes I know, I've rarely seen you so it's not a fair assumption."

Nijah's tongue roughly pressed at the inside of her molar, if only to keep herself from biting down on it when settling her jaw and set her jaw, she did. A vice grip coiled around the curve of her mug and she distracted herself with drinking the coffee.

Dawn stood up from her seat, "Only... other people you've seen me spend extended time with? You literally told me that you rarely see her. You've seen her with me less than Mira, or Conor, or a dozen other people. Hadriel's been around me more than other people. Are you having people spying on me? Poorly, in fact? Worried I'll put a dagger in your back so you might have to kill me without a second thought?" she wiped at her cheeks as she spoke and tried to shoulder past Osric if he would give her some leeway to do so.

"So... speakin' o' light-weight equip--" The mention of killing was enough to flatline Conor's attempt at diversion and Nijah’s heart sank at the mention of killing and daggers. She quietly pulled herself from the hearth, leaving behind the mug and any sort of reply she might have had for Conor. The Highlander woman stepped towards the two and reached for Dawn's forearm as she was looking to step past Osric, "Dawn. Do you need to leave?" Nijah asked, not wanting to drag her against her will, "This has turned quite unsavory."

Osric shook his head - not moving, but not fighting back if Dawn wanted to push past hard enough and he looked over his shoulder at her as she stepped away. "For brief periods of time, Dawn. I saw you with them for brief periods of time and then once I'd arrive you'd leave. So how was I to know who you were or weren't spending time with? I haven't been spying on you or anyone. I've been giving you space. Trying to give you as much space as I could because that's what you wanted. And no - what I'm terrified of is that you hate me, because of what's associated with me." He took another steadying breath. "...My feelings for you haven't changed...but if all I do is cause pain then I'll leave you be."

Of course, the Ala Mhigan woman took what necessary steps she needed to, to not be in the way or overstep but she merely let Dawn move at her free will. Even allowing Dawn to leave or speak if she had anything else. If anything she simply wanted to stop Dawn from further hurting herself, "...Whatever you need, Doc." All of this cause Dawn to shake her head again, "Brief... extended. Short... long... what does it matter who I spent time with... Conor, Hadriel, Mira... Nijah. What does it matter that I had friends? You know- you know when it hurt me the most? When you came and told me you had nightmares, that you suffered because I lost my sight. That's when it broke me. That's what I couldn't understand. That's what hurt the most. While I was trying to heal, while I was trying to get better and get some sense of normalcy,"Dawn continued, "You decided to tell me that you suffered so much you couldn't sleep without nightmares, that you suffered- seemingly more than I did. THAT is what hurt me."

Osric's jaw and fists clenched. "That's what you HEARD Dawn. Was I struggling, yes? But I KNEW, I always KNEW it was nothing compared to what you were going through and I'd let you down..."

Dawn then turned over to Nijah and moved her hands, even with grasped wrist, to her face, "You know what?" she looked at Nijah, an apologetic and pathetic look wearing on her expression as she stepped in. Tears streamed down her face along with the makeup she had been wearing that day., "Sure." She moved in with the intent to kiss Nijah while Nijah had shot Osric a silent, pokered glance. She heard Dawn speak but nothing registered until she felt Dawn shift and the intent to lay one on her. It landed, unexpectedly, which caused Nijah to lift her hands instinctively and grasp the woman lightly by each side of the face, thumbs brushing along her tear-worn cheeks and instinctively kissing her in return. It was all a blur and unexpected but at the moment, Dawn's hurt was all that mattered. The pads of her thumbs painted in makeup, "Dawn -- " was all she managed, growing silent and not quite knowing how to follow up.

Conobharo slapped his hands down on the table. "Alright, enough's enough!" His shouting causing Nijah’s words to remain clipped and she even regarded Conor.

Osric turned to swallow roughly after being exposed to the display. Shaking his head, he moved past the pair of women "Right."

"I get what ye two got issues, but now yer jus' tryin' t'urt each other! Feck's sake, come t'yer senses!" Conor huffed.

Still reeling from what just happened, Nijah looked past Dawn towards the Dragoon, "Osric? Mayhaps we can speak later? Since I have been pulled in as a third party to this for whatever reason, I feel like a conversation is necessary."

It took all of Dawn’s consciousness to control her hands as she released Nijah and stepped toward Osric while he walked away. "That's what you SAID! I'm not crazy! I'm not making this up! YOU told M- about how much you suffered, how DIFFICULT it was for YOU. Straight. To. My. Face, Osric! Fine! Walk away!" Her fists clenched, her knuckles turning white as her grit teeth sounded audibly.

"BECAUSE 'E LOVES YE, YE BLIND EEJIT!" Conor huffed out again while standing on the bench now, trying to make his voice feel a little bigger overall the shouting and big personalities. Of course, Conor was met with a bit of a look and Nijah simply shook her head in his direction. Now was definitely NOT the time.

Osric sighed as he turned around, feeling like there was no winning. "I did tell you that. I did say I was suffering and I was. But I never meant for it to minimize how much you were suffering, Dawn. I knew you were struggling, and I thought that maybe by sharing that we were all struggling that it might help. It didn't. I've never wanted to hurt you, it was never my intent to hurt you. I love you too damn much for that."

Aethwyn zoned in on Osric with her left eye, reading his aether and movement. Her eyes shifted to Conor, nothing but rage wore on her face. "And if your lover was crippled, would you cry to her about how hard it was to pull her around in a wheelchair, Conor?" she said his name with some level of contempt and spite. "That sounds like a great pillow talk." her gaze went back to Osric, "Oh- so you thought by telling me-!" she grabbed at her chest a bit and continued the coughing from before. She kept coughing and wouldn't relent. Still, hunched over, bloodshot, puffy eyes from crying looked toward him and spoke in between coughs and desperate attempts at breath. "And you... wanted... you wanted... me to label this..."

A sigh came and Nijah stepped up behind Dawn trying to quell the rage the Doctor was letting loose, that uncharacteristic rage that she had seen about two times before knowing full well that such wasn’t ‘Dawn’ coming from a good place, something else was peeking through. Nijah’s hands shifted gently over her eyes, "Dawn...enough." she dropped her mouth near to the shell of Dawn’s ear, "Just breathe and be calm, okay?" Without warning or care for pushback, Nijah held her there a moment and spoke lowly to her in whispers that were meant for just the two of them.

All of this had caused Osric to move and take a step forward, Nijah beating him to it. Instead, he shifted back, head hanging and shoulders slumped. Left to only watch on with worry.

Taking a deep breath and hoping Dawn would mimic it, her back to Nijah’s chest, pale green eyes pinned across to Osric as Nijah did so but not laced with any measure of malice. Silence befell her, seeing if Dawn might cooperate. Another slow, deep breath came trying to coax the healer into a pattern. Still, Dawn struggled to find a balance between breaths and coughs but managed to fight enough to give uneven, sharp and sporadic breaths. She tried to listen and find some measure of sense. "-What do you mean?" she rasped out, "Why...?" she seemed to break down into tears again, her edges softening from the anger she had felt just moments earlier all the while Nijah fought against the woman's coughing fit and her need to speak with the slow, continuous breaths no matter how dumb they might have looked at the moment, "Focus some breathing." she lowly spoke again and she darted a gaze between Conor and Osric, "It's okay you're safe here. Among friends." she continued to speak to Dawn, her hands still covering the woman’s eyes to give some sense of calm or comfort.

Osric watched helplessly, his gaze lifting to meet Nijah's for a brief moment before the gaze shifted to Dawn, concern evident on his face.

"We care 'bout ye, Dawn. Yer our mate. Jus' breathe easy, alright? Easy." Conor offered up.

Dawn still took in a myriad of sharp and uneven breaths before she could even find some semblance of being a broken person. The hands that were covering her coughs slid off of her mouth. She listened to her friends. What did she just say to Conor? Again, she continued to say things to hurt people in her anger. She took in another sharp breath, Nijah and Conor's voices easing her down, "-O-okay... I-I'm..." she struggled to speak and stuttered harder than before, "Tr-trying."Nijah held quite the forlorn expression despite the woman breaking under her fingertips. Until Dawn seemed to settle, she drew her hands away slowly and the two came to settle at the nape of the woman's neck, thumbs finding long, slow and soft strokes at the base of her neck and spine just under her blanket of hair, "Expel everything for a moment. Do you need a drink or to sit down? Would you like to go home?"

"Yer doin' fine. 'is conversation got a bit 'eated, but we'll talk fings through in time. For now, jus' keep givin' yer all t'keepin' calm."Conor spoke again and Osric gave a shuddering exhale before glancing between Conor and Nijah - the best thing for him was just to keep quiet.

The Doctor brought a hand up to her mouth, "I... I think... I think I'm going to throw up-". She seemed to try to stifle what nausea she felt. "I-I want to go home..." Nijah's thumbs moved up behind Dawn's ears just behind her jaw, "Alright. Home it is then. Whatever you need, I can walk you home."

Still, Dawn seemed to be struggling from the depletion and lack of oxygen earlier from her hyperventilating, coughing-fit, and now, panicked breaths. She rolled her eyes and began to slump, losing consciousness.

"Aye, like best Nijah sees ye 'ome - ah, shite."

Osric glanced up in time to see Dawn starting to slip. "Nijah!" He rushed forward in an attempt to keep her from falling forward but paused the moment he saw her in swift care. Nijah had already felt the sudden shift in her grasp along Dawn's head and she adjusted her arms, cradling one under Dawn's arm and side just as Dawn had begun to fall, "Oop....nope." she breathed out. Deciding it best to completely forego breathing techniques she lowered a little and caught her other arm behind Dawn's knees to keep her from falling and even cradle the woman bridal style. Sucking in along grit teeth she stood from the kneeling position to ensure Dawn didn’t injure herself, "Ah... the clinic then. Good thing Himaa is in."

"...Do you need help carrying her?" Osric asked, taking two steps forward towards the women.

Nijah simply shook her head as she was coming from a bent position to fully standing and better footing, "She's heavier than she looks but... no. I'll take her up. I'll be back." she eyed Conor and Osric a moment maneuvering her way from the lounge with care and up the stairs to the clinic she knew Khair would be present in.

"I should probably be goin'. I wish ye luck, lad. Would that I 'ad better encouragement, but... shite, if'n 'at was any more raw, it'd still be on the animal." Conor frowned and he gave Osric a bit of a gaze.

The Dragoon watched Nijah carry off Dawn before turning to N’mara with a tired expression. "Whiskey, neat - please." He flopped down onto the barstool letting his head fall into his hands. "FUCK!"

Both palms had met one another and the tips of her fingers had been resting at her lips for some time now. Nijah had been sitting in the clinic alongside Dawn watching her sleep. Shortly after everyone left, the Ala Mhigan woman returned after being paged via the Linkpearl. Dawn came around before she got there and Khait had managed some questions for the woman before she saw some rest. Completely exhausted by her night of work within the Clinic itself and then the taxing emotional drain she had put on her body that very same morning.

While staring, Nijah took note of the peek of the chain around Dawn’s neck, hating every bit of what she knew laid beneath Dawn’s shirt. That cursed stone. A stone she wouldn’t have acquired had it not been for Hadriel. Had it not been for Nijah taking the assignment and succeeding wonderfully -- no less.

For how violently she saw the woman nearly two hours ago, coughing and lashing out in all her fury, it was a small wonder that she looked so at peace while resting. Likely with some measure of assistance from substances Khair might have administered to keep her comfortable.

The ache she had felt pitted into her ribcage to hear Dawn crying. To see how words affected her, to drink in her frustrations at accusations. A sensation long forgotten that hadn’t stirred in many years for the Desert-born Sniper.

"I should've left her alone. Not said anything and just left it be."

"Lad... I dunno shite 'bout yer situation, or what's been said, an' if'n I 'ad the time, I promise I'd sit 'ere an' try an' 'elp figger it out. But as it stands, all I can say's one fing: tell 'er ye love 'er. Quit wif the speeches, quit wif the justifications, quit complicatin' fings. Jus' put it out in a few words, an' let the chips fall where they may. The love, what I can see, is already damn near broken. What've ye got t'lose?"

Nijah had come back down the stairs as the pair spoke, adjusting her gloves, "Himaa has her resting for the time being and is checking her vitals. She's going to let me know when she wakes up or if there are any changes to her." she paused looking to the two having caught a good portion of their conversation within the open room by the time she had met the bottom of the stairs, "Boy, you two are daft. It's not a matter of his love for her, he just accused her of something. With me. Pointedly." she added looking between them.

“Like 'm an expert, I jus' lucked out wif me lass. No doubt Nijah's got words, so do consult-- ah, aye, 'at too. 'at was bleedin' silly. Anyroad... chin up, lad." Conor gave Osric a firm nod, taking his leave towards the stairs Nijah had just descended.

Osric gave another shuddering exhale before sitting up and turning to face Nijah. "...She's in good hands then. Whatever you have to say Nijah, go ahead - I'm sure I'm deserving of it." He took the freshly served whiskey off the bar and took a long swig, downing at least half the glass.

Of course, Nijah silently watched as Conor took his leave and her attention slowly drew back to Osric, "For someone who made it clear there wasn't anything between you and Dawn, you've acted every bit or a reckless, jealous boyfriend. One she and you have made clear doesn't seem to exist. I'm not sure what impressions I have ever given off to imply any suspicions or assumptions or how I might know her needs better than you. Your assumptions landed you here right now and her follow up where she is right now." there was a pause and then she continued after getting a measure of the man sitting at the bar, “I oughta lay you out for that fantastical, implied stunt. But alas; the Company forbids violence on the grounds and like I said earlier, I happen to like you. So whatever questions you have, I can answer for you. As I have been plainly brought into this so suddenly."

He turned his glass between his hands. "There was...maybe something - before Ishgard. Before I made the mistake of sharing my feelings in hopes of helping her to talk about hers." He took another long swig, downing the remains before setting the empty glass on the bar. "And you haven't - I'm starting to think that everyone knows her better than I do, and maybe I deluded myself into thinking that there was anything beyond barely friendly co-workers there. You were brought in by correlation and because I'm an idiot. I'm sorry."

"So I have gathered on both accounts of you and her, saying so. But Ishgard is long past now. " Nijah leaned along the pool table, crossing her arms to regard the fellow Hyur, "I'm curious on how you came to make that assessment based on a few interactions. And maybe some people do know her better, who cares?" she lifted her fingers from her forearm a little to shrug it off, "If you were looking to garner if her and I are together, no. No we're not. There has never even remotely been a discussion about that or implications towards one. I care about her, sure. She has come to be an important person to me over the course of about a month or so. We do things together, we go places, we have conversations like normal people."

Osric gave a wry chuckle, his shoulders slumping. "Meanwhile, unless it had to do with the parasite that was in my chest, she hasn't had an extended conversation with me in months. She seems to be comfortable with you, the joking the whispers....and I jumped to conclusions." He sighed, “I've done...everything she's asked - and every time we're in a room together I wait on bated breath to see what I'll do or say that inevitable upsets her. All I want is for the woman to be happy."

She narrowed her eyes subtly as she watched Osric speak, "I can see why. It sounds like something like this was bubbling and she holds some resentment. I can't even begin to understand it but speaking from my own perspective, I don't pressure her or linger on doubts. I won't even let her linger on hers. The joking and whispers?" she waved her hand dismissively, "Simply that. Jokes and prodding. I personally think she was comfortable and happy today -- until....well...that. The veiled assumptions."

Once more Osric turned his glass in hand. "But that's the thing...I knew there was resentment there. I tried to talk with her about it, but she wouldn't do it. I thought we'd sorted through that day in the clinic, but evidently, we hadn't." He shook his head. "Someone you cared for started holding you at arms length and telling you they just needed time...and you gave them that time and they just...seemed to move on, leaving you behind - how would you respond?"

With a hum, Nijah pursed her lips as she gave a small jolt to her shoulder, "Hard to say. I would first question why I was left behind in the first place, if it was deserved and how I go forward. Relationships don't work if it is one-sided. Besides that, I've been that person. The person to give arms length and moves away until eventually, that space leaves room for nothing else in between. It has come to bite me in the ass later for it, of course. But that's life."

Osric ran a hand through his hair. "I know that...I know it takes two people for a relationship to work." He shook his head. "I feel like I'm hoping for the impossible. Or imagining that there was more there than there was. Don't misunderstand, I love that woman - I'd do whatever I could to keep her safe...but it feels like more and more often that's just me staying away....Maybe that's what I need to do."

"Then maybe you need to take that as a boundary you need to set for yourself. I imagine after today, it will be necessary. Hard to do considering the work atmosphere but I think two people can be friends and civil once things heal accordingly."

He shook his head as he stood. "...I don't know that they can. You saw her." His jaw clenched as he moved past the billiards table to see about assignments. "...I started spending more time here after the Ishgard mission, and before we found out about the parasite because I thought she'd need the support...she's getting that from others - I don't need to be here. I've been a mercenary on the job for weeks at a time before....I can do it again."

Nijah contemplated for a moment and her face wore quite inscrutable, eyes darting over the ceiling then she looked back to Osric, "I care for Dawn. I like to think I understand her somewhat. If she decides to come around then she comes around, if she doesn't then she doesn't. There is little you or anyone can do. It is up to you if you choose to sit by and wait or move on." she blinked, her fingers flexing atop her arm, "You speak in too much of absolutes. As if your role in her life is useless." she even paused and glared over her shoulder at him once more, “Debating hard if I really need to hit you now..."

"Isn't it? Useless, that is." He turned, crossing his arms over his chest. "She has no need for me. What have I done for her besides causing her pain? And I want to wait...to see if maybe the impossible might happen, she is after all the first person I opened up to in seven years, but if all my presence will do is upset her, then what's the point?" He let his arms drop. "If you want to hit me then I can step off the grounds - you don't break any rules and maybe some sense gets knocked into me."

She rolled her eyes as she listened, "Listen to your self-loathing, Slater. It's no wonder you're in this position. You're in your head way too much." her hand lifted and tapped at her temple, "It's Dawn you're talking about, do you really think she keeps people around so long as they have a use or purpose to her? Think about that before you answer." she sighed and drew her gaze forward to the fireplaces at the other end of the long room, "How depressing. She'll eventually get over what pain she holds and the resentment she harbors. It's just a matter of when."

"You're more optimistic than I am."

"Perhaps that is where you tripped up. You hold so much contempt for yourself it bleeds out."

"I failed to help her, to protect her, to do all the things I said I would - you wouldn't have some contempt for yourself if you were in a similar position?"

"Secretly, sure but you learn to get over those mistakes. I've been in the field enough and fumbled plenty. Some innocent people get caught in the crosshairs but you work past it. I think for you, you don't know how because it was someone you know. Someone you dove headfirst after. It sounds like she has forgiven you, but given by her words, it's what you chose to say and do after that brought about consequences. The selfishness, I garner?"

"I wasn't trying to be selfish, I was trying to help -her-...but I suppose it doesn't matter what I meant, it matters what she perceived."

"To her, yes. Though, to be quite fair we cannot be responsible for how people perceive things. That is on them. Maybe there is some shared responsibility there."

"Shared responsibility or not, things came to an abrupt halt after that...I believe the exact wording was: 'you can go FUCK yourself Osric Slater'...and now, months later, here we are."

"I guess there are only so many ways to tell a person to fuck off before they take the hint? Good on you I guess for trying and sticking to your feelings despite it all. It's not easy."

“...When you say it like that it sounds idiotic."

Nijah lifted a hand in response and it swayed out from her form, palm up, "If the shoe fits...."

Osric gave a wry chuckle before swallowing roughly and turning back around to the woman at the counter, addressing her directly. "...the list of assignments, please."

The Sniper twitched her lips to the side, still staring at the fires across from her, her fingers recoiling to her palm that had been held out. What a place she landed herself today, something no one would have seen coming, "Despite what happened, I think leaving again would be folly.”

Glancing through what was available for the time being, Osric sighed. "...It doesn't look like I'm to have much of a choice - nothing at the moment is suited to my skill set." He glanced over his shoulder. "How is it going to help anything, me being present - you saw what happened, what's the likelihood she'll want a damn thing to do with me after today?"

“Since you asked. Just don't push the issue, try not to assume anything of her, don't bring up nightmares or her eyes, and just be present without the depression, frills, doubts and self-loathing. She can sense it, all of it. Right down to the change in your breathing or a pause in your words. All of it."

"You make it sound so simple. I know she can sense all of it, I'm well aware of just how perceptive she is - she also hears what she wants to. I mentioned a girl, who has been dead for seven years, and she brings that up, as though I'm concerned that she's going to do the same? No - my fear is much more realistic than that."

"It doesn't have to be complicated. It's just going to take some measure of practice and self-discipline. Self Awareness, really." she sighed, "Yes and all it took was for a joke and a whisper to send you skyward."

"...I'm not trying to justify my behavior, I'm well aware that I was out of line."

"Never said you were justifying anything, simply reminding you that sometimes in -some- moments people only latch to certain things."

"Noted...I'd ask for updates on her status, but I don't think she'd be happy about me knowing anything....anything else you wanted to say before I make my exit? I feel like I've made a big enough fool of myself for one day."

She sighed deeply once more and she closed her eyes, thinking, "She's not heartless. I think it might be good if she knew about you inquiring about her health." both her eyes opened to regard Osric once more, "I have nothing. I simply wanted to make some points clear where I feel like Dawn, in her upset, could not. Or accurately to clear the air. " her head tilted and she drummed her fingers along her bicep, "Going forward, me being around Dawn isn't going to be a problem, is it? If it's a problem for you, then it is a problem for her and I would rather not have that sort of animosity hang around in my presence."

. "It's not an issue...it was never an issue. Despite today. I'd rest easier knowing she has people she can trust and lean on...even if that isn't me."

"Good. Then I suspect this will be the one and only time we'll have to deal with this and the like. That is reassuring to know. I'm not here to create waves for anyone."

Osric ran a hand through his hair. "Normally...I prefer to deal with any issues in private, and this wouldn't have been an issue - I don't think - if I hadn't just arrived back in the city yesterday. But as I said, it won't be an issue moving forward."

"I don't think it has anything with your return but everything to do with your choices today. Dawn as well but I feel she will have the weight of guilt resting on her when she wakes."

Osric Slater swallowed roughly. "...Then I imagine she'll need support - and I can trust that you'll be there to provide that?"

"That depends on her."

"....Fair. Well, I find myself in need of some fresh air and a long walk...I think I might gather my equipment and train for a bit...enjoy the rest of your afternoon, Nijah...I apologize again." He bowed ever so slightly at the waist to her.

In turn, Nijah nodded her head slightly in what one might consider a returned 'bow' or recognition of sorts for the comment at hand, "Pleasant therapy then. Sometimes it helps more than some might know."

"Catharsis. Or that's the goal anyway. Take care."

Nijah stood and gazed down at Dawn, a hand ghosting over the blanket a moment neatly tucked under the woman’s arms and she couldn’t help but wonder if she was comfortable. The thoughts or dreams that swirled in her head when her exhausted self finally found reprieve -- it was a curiosity to her. She considered snatching the cursed stone from the Mage’s neck and casting it away. Lying about the whereabouts and she seeing if Dawn could go on without the temptation of it and everything it brought along with its uses.

No. That was not a decision Nijah was going to make for her.

Bending, the Highlander placed a kiss upon Dawn’s brow. To hell with anyone in her way, if they were going to upset and disrupt the norm for her or Dawn, there was going to be all hell to pay. Whether someone cared for it, wanted to stop it, unless Dawn said something to Nijah herself and asked for distance, all other opinions could burn in the wind along with the rest of the rabble.

She’d raze everything dear if she had to, to quell the opinions. To cease the unsolicited assumptions. For now, she was calm and sturdy. For now, she was civil and understanding. But she too loved the woman whose heart was currently parallel to her own, even if she showed it in her own way and it had been very oblivious to her. Subtle was the way these things crept in. Subtle was the joy she didn’t truly know she had -- until now.

Nijah didn’t need words to express anything as everything about her was already understood in Dawn’s eyes. What more could she ask for even if nothing was reciprocated?

Being present was more than enough.

Meiont(s): @ashenwolves-ffxiv - @hadriel-ffxiv - @khairxiv - @osric-slater-ffxiv - @conobharo-cobharo-xiv - @mira-isenhart-xiv - @dawn-aethwyn

#Stories #Blurbs #Recap #Collab #RP Snippets #BIG SAD holy moly #{[ Waking Sunshine and Desert Sands ]}

[ungrateful-cyborg]

What drew you to the character you play? What types of characters are you generally drawn to?

((I'm on mobile so apologies for being unable to do the funky symbol.))

Usually when I create a character, I want to make one that's different from the ones I already have and that's different from the muses I'm used to see in the community. In this instance, in my friends' own rosters or on Tumblr. If I have an idea and it's too close to another muse, I'll discard it.

I’m not sure if I have a type though, outside of them being stubborn and often protective. I know I don’t like playing sadistic characters or members of the high society (unless they left, like Hanae) but in the second case, it’s more me not being good with social rules to begin with and not enough of a masochist to add even more rules to my muses’ interactions :’D

Now for what draws me specifically to those I already have...

For Skaar, it'd be his sense of community and pride to be Ala Mhigan while having spent half his life outside Gyr Abania. He's not homesick, he's aware of the flaws of his country but he sees himself as Mhigan first and Lominsan second. Both are home though and he'll forever be somewhere in between as far as his identity goes. It has a huge impact on his uh... monkhood, let's say, because having had the full training, to him being a monk isn't just "being a pugilist but fancy". The whole spiritual aspect is present too but cut from its place of birth. Or was until the liberation of Ala Mhigo.

Inge is at a place in her life where she's coming to term with what it means to be yourself. Not as a teenager but as a young adult living far from the only place she considers home because she decided to follow her heart and explore the world even if it meant losing everything she had. So there's that and there's the fact that she's had a team for a while and they were good but the Calamity happened and as far as she knows, they're all dead. She never really got over that, even though she longs for a life more meaningful than the one she leads at the moment.

Wolfe is special. He resonated more with me when I created him years ago. His (over)confidence and refusal to compromise on his principles were a breath of fresh air at a time when I felt I couldn't express myself. Nowadays I feel a lot better in that regard but I still love those aspects of him. I'm just not sure of where I'm going with him so chances are that I'll end up reworking Wolfe a bit at some point, once I figure it out.

A'idan is just fun. A clever dumbass full of affection and curiosity, what's not to love about him? Plus he ended up with a lot of my special interests and dreams growing up so it's always fun to revisit them.

Astrid is one of my favorite tropes ever: the normal person in an extraordinary setting who has to prove to herself that she's up to the task because you don't need to be special to bring something to the table.

The Advocate is extremely powerful and that's precisely his problem. Power and strength aren't always a gift and sometimes the cost is almost too much to bear, but he keeps going, keeps trying and I love just how fiercely human he is. The balance between his anger, his kindness, his hope and his doubts is interesting to maintain and write about.

Hanae did too much to be where she is now to let it be for nothing. She managed to become more than the tardily-legitimated child of a Garlean noble, more than just another Garlean bastard in the literal sense of the word and all her efforts to get there, to have recognition, won't be for nothing just because the tables turn. That's the logic behind her recent choices. There is no going back and she'd have too much to answer for so better keep going and try to change the outcome.

And Kazan is um...He's a mess. He's too loyal, too obedient and feels too deeply. Add that to loneliness and years of negligence and you get a man who doesn't really see himself as a man anymore, who wants better for himself because nobody likes misery but at the same time doesn't try too hard because at least it's familiar and nothing else around him is. It's cathartic to write, though the end goal is clearly for him to heal. As to where he'll be in life by that point, I don't know.

And I think everyone is accounted for?

[Thanks for the ask @ahumblewoodcarver and @flamesworn!]

#The More You Know #answered; Skaar #answered; Inge #answered; A'idan #answered; Astrid #answered; Wolfe #answered; The Advocate #answered; Hanae #answered; Kazan #I should ask people who've been rping with me for years if they noticed common points between the dozens of characters they've seen from me #because I honestly don't know XD

[potassium-pilot]

Prompt 11: Preaching to the Choir

Lyse pored over her papers, her least favorite activity as one of two leaders of Ala Mhigo. On a weekly basis, members of the resistance would mingle with the public and guage opinion on performance, particularly what they believe is needed from their government. There would often be a demand for more food, resources for rehoming citizens, and from a more extreme sect, removing non-Ala Mhigan enforcement from their walls. Already, public opinions were dividing, all of them holding different visions of the country they had lost a quarter of a century ago.

When it was in a fight against a common foe, they were united. Now that the foe is gone, what stood to bind them together?

This frustrated the young leader to no end. Before she could torture herself over the politics of Ala Mhigo for any longer, a voice greeted her at her office door.

“Forgive me for intruding, Mistress Hext.”

Aymeric stood in the doorway to greet her. “Lord Commander, I keep telling you this, you can just call me Lyse. ‘Mistress Hext’ makes me feel so old.”

“Ah, forgive me, M— Lyse.”

“Well, what brings you by, Lord Commander? Do you have a complaint to register?”

“No. Believe it or not, I have good tidings.”

Lyse’s eyebrows lifted in intrigue. “Wow, that’s pretty rare! All right, well, what tidings are they?”

He entered the office and retrieved something from his inventory. “I bear a gift from Dia for you. She would have brought it herself, but ‘twould appear some other business has rendered that quite difficult to do.” He held a small, wrapped present in his hand and placed it on her desk.

“Ha”, Lyse started, “You know, not too long ago, Y’shtola, Alisaie, and I were talking about how Dia manages to find time to do anything she does. I’m especially curious after everything they tried to explain to me after their souls were torn from them, mostly because it was hard to understand a word of it, but she was busy, clearly. I have no idea how she would be able to find a gift for me like this. Must be some Warrior of Light secret.”

“Indeed. She attempted to explain her toils in the First to me as well. I’ve seen firsthand what she does to find time, and…well, we’ve argued the point more than once, I’m afraid. Little can stand between her and what she wants, and exhaustion clearly doesn’t affect her much.” Lyse smiled at the thought, then replied, “Would that I had her time management skills. Trying to find any free time right now feels next to impossible.”

“That seems to be a universal truth among leaders of men.”

“Ha, isn’t it? And don’t even get me started on just how much paperwork I’m trying to make a dent in.” Aymeric nodded while she stood up from her chair. “And I can’t even go outside without someone asking me something, or pulling me somewhere, or yelling at me for something I can’t control.” He knew a rant when he saw one. He sat down and sat by to let it happen; not a word was needed from him while she paced back and forth.

“And everyone has something wrong! Be it a housing issue, a food problem, or a medicine problem- chirurgeons are so expensive, Lord Commander. I’m glad the Alliance is helping us, but there’s only so much they can do, and there’s so many mouths to feed and homes to provide and—“ Lyse interrupted her rant by slamming her right hand down on her desk, making Aymeric flinch as the pugilist was more than capable of breaking it in half.

“I want to make my people happy, and I can’t make them happy.”

Aymeric waited a moment, unsure if she was going to continue. When it was clear that she was only capable of bowing her head and keeping her eyes shut, he found his words.

“Rarely do I hear one’s sentiments perfectly echo mine own.”

Lyse reopened her eyes and looked to him.

“As do I, Lyse.”

Hien appeared this time, wearing his trademark smile, and entered the office casually. “You know, if you want for resources, I invite you to contact the Shazenkai in Doma. They’ve been wonderful in their efforts to rebuild the Doman Enclave.”

Lyse smiled back. “What is the Shazenkai? I feel like I should know about this by now if they’ve been so helpful.” Hien shrugged his shoulders and sat in the chair next to Aymeric. “It hasn’t come up in discussion, luckily for you. Simply put, they find people to donate items they don’t need to sell to others at a higher price so they may fund workers. They also use the funding they gain to negotiate with vendors and other important people to trade resources that aid Doma. You may want to consider such a tactic.”

Lyse pondered the suggestion. “That’s all fine and good, but where do I find people willing to donate?”

“Ask Dia. She’s our biggest donor.” Aymeric shot him a quizzical look and asked incredulously, “Really?” Hien returned his own quizzical look and responded, “Yes, Lord Commander. I receive weekly reports from the Shazenkai and every time, she sits at the top of the list of contributors. Without her, we would have no school, market, rice field, paper mill, blacksmith tools…”

Aymeric’s eyebrows lifted and he brought his gaze to the floor in front of him. “Incredible. Here I thought she had only aided Ishgard in such a manner. I’ll have to ask her about this when I get home.” He looked to Lyse himself and said, “I would also encourage you to come into contact with Lord Francel Haillenarte. His knowledge of his own negotiations with vendors and others who have aided in the rebuilding of the Firmament may come of use to you.”

“How did the rebuilding work?” she asked.

“Essentially, after tireless arguments about it, we in the House of Lords and Commons passed a motion to rebuild the Firmament, a living quarter of Ishgard that was unfortunately burned down by heretics after Dia and Estinien defeated Nidhogg. Lord Francel, Dia, and Count de Durendaire managed to secure quite a few resources to aid the endeavour, and helped rehome no small number of former Firmament citizens. During this time, countless adventurers had been recruited to help scavenge resources and create equipment for all to use to aid in rebuilding the Firmament.”

Lyse took a seat back down behind her desk. “These are good suggestions. Would you mind giving the names of these people again later?”

“Of course”, replied Aymeric, with Hien giving a nod. Lyse brought her eyes to Hien and inquired, “Well, what brings you here, Hien?”

“I was wondering if we were still going to the Bismarck for lunch today before the meeting.” Lyse gasped. “I am so sorry, Hien! Yes, we are, I just got so caught up in all of this and— ugh, this is frustrating!”

“Don’t worry yourself so. It’s hard to keep these obligations together, particularly in our positions.” Lyse sighed and complained,“I don’t want my obligations to my friends to be tossed to the side. They’re important to me.”

“Unfortunately, that tends to be the first thing that must go. At the very least, you’re in a great position that those you are socially obligated to are quite understanding”, replied Aymeric. Lyse frowned. “Lord Commander, how do you deal with that? It can’t be easy.”

“I’m afraid my own social obligations tend to be rather limited now that one of my closest friends has left Ishgard to join the Scions, so it tends to be just the occasional drink with Lucia, and whatever time I may spend with Dia when I return home.”

Hien joined in with, “Laying in hiding for five years has limited my own now that I’m no longer bound to the Azim Steppe. It helps little that I tend to leave Doma quite a bit more than I expected to when I took the throne.” Hien smiled at Lyse and said, “I suppose that’s why I enjoy what time I get with you so much.” Lyse smiled back.

“Look at us, talking as though we’ve been at this for years. Well, except maybe for you, Lord Commander. How long have you lead the Temple Knights?” Lyse inquired.

“I started serving as the Lord Commander after the previous perished in the blizzards following the Calamity. That in mind, ‘twas only a few years ago that the new Ishgardian government formed, and I was elected it’s Lord Speaker, the highest level of the House of Lords.”

“Mm, so you’ve been a military leader for a while, but then you were thrown into politics on top of that. I’m glad I have General Aldynn to help with the military; trying to lead both nearly led to the collapse of both here. I don’t know how you do it, Lord Commander”, Lyse turned her focus to Hien, “Nor you, Hien.”

“I have the aid of the Lupin for the military. Politically…I knew what I was destined to do. I’m ready to defend Doma with my life, and I was born ready to lead her.” Lyse looked to the ground.

“I didn’t have that kind of resource.” Lyse let out a sharp breath from her nose. “I was a refugee, and a young one at that. I was five when we left; all I ever knew of Ala Mhigo were stories my sister would tell. No one ever told me that I would take on leadership of it’s resistance, nor of the country for that matter.”

“Those who would seek power search for it all their life while those who avoid it tend to have it foisted upon them”, Aymeric remarked, “I know all too well the suddenness of such a position.”

“Take heart, Lyse. It may not always seem like it, but those who want to help you are nearby”, added Hien. Lyse nodded and smiled gently. “I wish none of us had to be here, that better decisions could have been made before us.”

“One can’t help but feel thankful that the Ascians who caused these problems are no more”, Aymeric reminded the group.

“Agreed”, said Lyse, “and from what I could make of it, with them goes any future calamities, or at least real ones. I think the Scions might have just saved the world, Lord Commander.”

Dia saved the world would be a more accurate statement, thought Aymeric, leaving the sentiment unsaid as ultimately, Lyse was correct. He simply nodded and said, “And I have every hope they’ll do it again.”

“I believe in them, too. In the meantime, I’m just thankful that aside from that creepy Fandaniel, none of the others are trying anything close to what the more leader-y Ascians had done for centuries. They created the Garlean Empire, for gods’ sakes. They’re the reason we left Ala Mhigo.”

“They’re the reason we left Doma”, stated Hien.

“They’re the reason I had to send Dia to kill my own father.” The two looked at Aymeric with wide eyes.

“Er, the details are rather foggy, Lord Commander”, Lyse stated confusedly. “Why would she need to kill him?”

“I bade her to stop my father from summoning the primal Thordan. I had no idea that he would use his own body as a vessel for him.”

“Oh, right…she’s a primal slayer. If your father became a primal…right, that makes sense.”

“You know, for whatever terrible things we experienced at the hands of the Ascians, we all have had Dia there to aid us in more than one way”, Hien pointed out. The other two smiled at him, and Lyse replied, “You’re right. Ala Mhigo would still be in the hands of the Garleans and quite possibly enthralled to Shinryu.”

“Doma as well, and the Shazenkai has much to thank her for in regards to her donations, and I personally do for saving us in our confrontation with Elidibus in Ghymlit”, said Hien.

“If I had a list of all the things I have to thank Dia for, ‘twould be years before I finished” Aymeric exaggerated.

“The Scions would have made little headway on the primal issues without her help. I’m glad we found her when we did. We— I mean, they, have a lot to thank her for as well”, remarked Lyse.

“…especially after she nearly died trying to save that other world”, Aymeric added grimly, folding his arms. The other two nodded.

“If I may be so blunt, Lord Commander, what you have is a mixed blessing”, Hien commented, “None among us can say we have someone to come home to at the end of our day.” Aymeric breathed a laugh through his nose, and replied, “That depends on whether or not Dia’s home by the time I get there. In recent times, I’ve been blessed to see her more, but I can’t say I’m looking forward to the next assignment she receives from the Scions.”

“Still”, Lyse said, “The rest of us have little opportunity to find someone like that. It’s lonely at the top.”

“Halone knows that had I not met Dia before, I would be in such a position with you”, Aymeric replied gratefully. Lyse gave an almost pitiful smile before her eyes widened and she gave a small gasp. “Oh, gods, we’ve been sitting in here for way too long! Sorry to keep you, Lord Commander.”

“Think nothing of it”, Aymeric responded graciously as he rose from his chair, “You may want to open her present sooner rather than later in the case Dia should deign to appear in the meeting.”

Lyse gave a light chuckle. “You make a good point, Lord Commander.” He nodded and exited the office, leaving Hien and Lyse behind.

“Well then, shall we get going?” Hien asked expectantly. Lyse put away her papers in her drawers, and took hold of Dia’s present before placing it in her inventory. “Let’s.”

Lyse clasped her right hand into Hien’s left, and together, they walked out of the office, and into the streets, ready to leave behind their troubles, even if only for a moment.

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #ffxiv #aymeric de borel #lyse hext #hien rijin #aymeric x wol #lyse x hien #a writer is never late nor is she early she arrives precisely when she means to #ah well #anyways these three would have a lot to discuss

[wonderful-bellies]

Tell us about either Vhiro’sae, Kehsun, or Desmond

Why not all of them! :D Vihro’sae is my ffxiv character, my main boi. He’s a keeper of the moon miqo’te who lost his clan as a child when they got a lil too close to Baelsar’s wall and got accused by Garlean soldiers of aiding escaping Ala Mhigans. Young Vihro escaped and ended up being taken in by the conjurer’s guild in Gridania. Eventually he grew up and became a fully fledged white mage and he pretty much follows the WoL storyline from there. With some twists. And angst and the decision to pick up dark knight halfway through because I do love me that edgy shit. Oh also he’s a size shifter, can only get big and had no control over his random shifting. He’s very self conscious about it and has a habit of impulsively keeping secrets Kehsun is one of my nagas! He’s the green and blue dude who I plan on redesigning and revisiting at some point. He’s a bubbly fellow with little to no concept of personal space or boundaries and grew up best friends with a human dude he later started dating by the name of Ian. Nagas don’t really have the same biases and concepts and such as humans in this universe so Kehsun was originally VERY open with his affections towards Ian, who was still questioning his orientation at the time and even struggling with self esteem issues because he just hadn’t come to terms with his being attracted to boys. Kehs kinda helped him through that unwittingly. Desmond is my ghost character! Made a few years ago cause I needed to do something for halloween on my ask blog lol. He’s a goofy prankster kinda fellow who honestly also doesn’t understand boundaries that well except it leads to some... less ok situations. Like Des possessing people without warning. He’s actually a pretty scary ghost, he just uses it to fuck with people more than anything. besides the occasional embarrassing or vaguely upsetting prank, he’s pretty harmless. And struggling to come to terms with his death and the fact that he can’t remember what his life was when he was alive, but he doesn’t really show that side of himself to anyone.

#i love my babs a lot aaaaaa #kehsun #desmond #vihro'sae #Anonymous

[dawn-aethwyn]

Healing

Dawn did as she was bid, the same as so many times before. How many times was it this week and the last that he had her draw aether from this meditation stone? Regardless, she was happy to oblige. She felt more invigorated, more lively- more whole as she did so. Whatever regimen he had working for her rehabilitation, it was working.

“... Alright…” a dry voice sounded. “Keep at it. Remember, don’t stop until you can’t draw any further, then keep going anyway. When you feel you can’t go any further, put one foot in front of the other and keep moving forward.”

A cacophony of thoughts rang in her head as she desperately tried to sort through them. Every time she drew from this stone she felt flooded with emotions she was a stranger to. In addition to that, she had wondered long and hard where Hadriel had obtained this ‘meditation’ stone. There’s no way a random stone was full of aether but at the same time, it felt as if her very own life essence was being restored. She wasn’t going to complain about that. But then… if this was a product of her rehabilitation, is it because he knew about her condition?

“You’re distracted.” his gruff judgement sounded. “Focus, stop thinking about irrelevant things and draw.”

She intensified her efforts but her mind couldn’t help but wander. Her interaction with Halia the night before was proof enough that she felt a change in her veins. She was always wanting to help others yet slowly she felt that interest wane as she was overcome by more selfish and base desires. Why shouldn’t she look out for herself? Why shouldn’t she focus on what’s right for her? Who cares what others feel? Everything she had experienced since her injury only lent credence to that thought. She shook her head violently.

“I told you to pay attention. Keep drawing aether.” he chided.

The focused beam that spilt from the soul crystal stopped as she spun her head in Hadriel’s direction. “Why?” she asked. She knew the pretense he was here under- to help her. Yet he had her drawing essence to restore her own, he must’ve known there was an aetherial deficit. He must have known of her condition, yet he didn’t speak on it. This wasn’t to restore her sight, that was for certain, so he must have had an ulterior motive. 

“Because Mira asked me to help you. There is nothing more to it. Now you’re wasting time, continue to dr-”

“No. There has to be more to it. No one does things for others selflessly. There’s no true altruism in this world. Only people who are waiting to take advantage of others.”

He chuckled a bit, “Ah, there it is. I was wondering when you would start being affected. Is the bitterness setting in? The anger? The doubt? Good. It only means you’re taking more and more of the aether into yourself.”

Her face flushed. She couldn’t see him but she could hear his laughter which infuriated her further. “What do you mean?! You were expecting me to get affected?!”

“What did you have left? Maybe a few months to live? Soul crystals host a fountain of aether from the people who left an imprint on it, small fragments of their souls absorbed over time. I’m letting you borrow more time from that since you were irresponsible and treated your own life and aether with wanton disregard.”

“...It won’t be enough.” 

She could hear him undo the top of his flask before he drank. Of course he was drinking. She heard a scoff.

“No, definitely not. Being able to convert your own life force to aether is a gift very few people have, and now that you’ve drained every bit of that gift that you possibly could, it’s time to find a new solution. If you’re able to convert aether one way, then you should be able to do the opposite. Convert it into your own life force. Frankly, I’ve never come across anyone like you so I don’t know the right answer, but right now, this is the only answer I have. Once you’ve learned to draw aether proficiently enough from living things around you, you should be able to survive. Not only that, you should be able to thrive. Sight would be restored to you through perception of aether, and the cost for that should no longer matter.”

“G-get out.” she seethed furiously. “I’m not a toy for you to watch writhe about.”

“I think you need a break.” he grabbed the soul crystal off her desk and hung it around his neck, tucking the pendant into his vest. “You’re doing fine. Trust me. Maybe later you can try again when you calm down ...I’ll be seeing you.”

Her erratic breath seemed to calm a bit after he left. What was she angry about again? She shook her head as her grip along the desk loosened. “W-what?” she whispered to herself. She wanted to be mad at him, at something, at anything. She breathed in sharply in an attempt to gather herself. A shaky breath escaped her lips. “I’m okay… I’m okay…” she uttered to herself as she had done a hundred times before.

Her hand expanded before her as she focused her aether again, using a practiced hand to bring forth White Magicka. A flare of abyssal energies flashed in her palm instead.

 “...I’m okay.”

The door had shut and opened once more as someone walked into the clinic, “Ah, I’m looking for a Mizuna --” It certainly wasn’t Dawn’s male guest from earlier.

Dawn shut her fist and extinguished the abyssal flame that lingered in her grasp. She moved to place a rounded pair of sunglasses on to cover her unfocused gaze. “Oh? Mizuna is not here, perhaps I can be of some help?”

“I see, she’s the one that stitched me up some couple of weeks ago. The stitches are -- well I’m about to cut them out myself if someone doesn’t remove the damn things from my arm.” she watched the woman -- clinics just weren’t her thing. Nijah lifted a hand through her bangs, “She also mentioned something about a checkup but I suppose I could just schedule something while I’m here?”

The White Mage shook her head, “I’ll help you remove the stitches, as for the checkup; she can do that on her own time. Please...” she gestured toward one of the rooms and shifted over to slide the curtains aside, “...Take a seat on the table.”

The Ala Mhigan woman nodded, not that she knew Dawn couldn’t see, she hadn’t met the woman in her life. Doing as she was bid, Nijah took a seat along the table as instructed and removed her glove.

Dawn had reached for some tools and vials about the room, all while feeling for stickers along them with little raised dots. She grabbed a towel and placed it on the tray before setting it beside the patient. “Which arm was it again?”

“...Right.” Nijah furrowed a brow and held out her arm to the woman, “Didn’t count how many she actually shoved in there.”

Dawn meandered a couple feet away to the sink, washing her hands. “May I touch you?” she asked as she approached again, her head tilted.

“Well yeah, you’re kinda gonna have to.” she huffed and shoved her arm in the woman’s direction, each stitch itching for freedom and she was trying her best not to scratch.

The medical professional gave a smile, if it wasn’t clear before, it was made clear now that she couldn’t see as she felt for Nijah, finding her arm and running her hands along her skin. She felt the stitches along her forearm. “Ah, there they are, please keep your arm out.” she moved to pour one of the vials onto one of the hand-towels she had prepared. Dawn dabbed the towel along Nijah’s stitching, “Feels like it was a deep laceration… about five ilms long? About twenty stitches? I would’ve gone with more just to be safe… but it seems like you’ve healed fine. Let me clean the area right quick.” The cloth smelled strongly of alcohol.

Nijah could only stare as the woman who felt her way around was tending to her arm. She had to have been crazy to stay any longer and possibly let a blind woman come at her with the Gods know what, “You work here?” she asked. It was better than sitting in awkward silence as the Doctor went about her work, “Never seen you before.”

A sly smile wore about her features as she continued to press the cloth into Nijah’s patched laceration. “And I’ve never seen you before either. Nice to meet you.” She responded before tossing the towel into a bin, “My name is Dawn, and I was hired here to be the staff physician.” her hands ran delicately to identify where the plastic stitches were again before she grabbed a pair of suture scissors in one hand, keeping the other along the injury. “I don’t feel any inflammation and the wound seems to have closed so I will be removing the stitches. They might hurt as I cut and pull them out though.”

“Nijah.” she responded kindly enough and she knit her brow to watch as Dawn continued, “Mizuna was the one that was seen to me and thankfully I have enough know-how when it comes to cleaning wounds to make sure my limbs don’t fall off.”

Dawn gave a light, awkward giggle, “Well, you won’t have to worry about that. I’ll clean your wound again after we remove the stitches.” The woman moved quickly and methodically to feel at the stitches and adjusted the scissors along each before snipping away and pulling them out carefully. She listened and felt for Nijah’s reaction between each removal before she placed every suture onto the tray next to them. Each went without a fuss. She figured Nijah must have been good at not reacting to sharp pangs of pain.

“You’re confident in your work at least, most wouldn’t even attempt to try and do what you’re doing.”

“Oh? I suppose. I wouldn’t imagine many people would try to remove your stitches if they weren’t trained to do so. At least, I hope they wouldn’t.” Dawn spoke as she snipped and removed the last few sutures.

“I used to before I had access to a medic all the time, like this. Growing up in Ul’dah we sort of just made due with what we had.”

“Well, I would have to advise against you doing that anymore and ask that you come to me from now on.” she gave a polite smile in Nijah’s direction. It was a bit off from where she should have turned her head but in the right area nevertheless. “Though it’s already a good enough sign that you will since you came here in the first place. There.” She removed the last suture and placed it on the tray. She grabbed another hand-towel she had prepared and popped another vial. “This might hurt too.” After pouring the liquid onto the cloth she pressed firmly along the laceration and removed stitches, digging her fingers into where Nijah had been cut. “It’s an antibiotic. Since I just removed your sutures they’re practically open wounds. Best to be safe. Sorry if it hurts.”

Nijah did cringe a moment and sucked in a breath, watching the Doctor go about her business but it was all part of the process, right? At least she had got to the lengths Mizuna had not, “Thanks.” she huffed out, “I’ll be sure to remember that.”

“You know… your voice sounds very familiar.” she commented, squeezing even harder onto the wound as she moved the cloth along it, bit by bit.

“Familiar? I’ve been here for a long time.”

“Hmn.” she sounded, nails digging along the cloth to reach deeper into the wound. A few of the holes left from the stitching left a crimson stain along the towel.

“Longer than most.” she finished and her free hand took hold of Dawn’s wrist at her other arm, “I think ...it's clean now, Doc.” she hissed out ever so lightly at the sting at her flesh.

The pleasant smile wore on her features as she looked toward Nijah. The patient’s features lit up a bright blue outline along her flesh. She was seeing her through traces of aether. It came to her as if it were second nature, as if she had used this approach for years. In a blink the darkness returned and the blue hues dissipated. Dawn maintained a painful grip, “I told you it will hurt, if we don’t get the antibiotics deep into the open punctures from the stitching, it might cause an infection. Trust me, a little pain now will save a lot of stress later. Unless you’re not partial to this limb; then I can skip this.”

Of course Nijah was no medical expert but she was perceptive enough to know that the point of fixing wounds was to mend them, not reopen them. She held firm to the woman’s wrist and attempted to pry her hand away while shifting from the table, “I think it’s good, albeit bleeding again but. We’re good Doc.”

The White Mage laughed lightly after her hand was pried off of the wound. “Better safe than sorry, I say. I don’t want you to get an infection.” Her stance adjusted to face Nijah as she moved off the table. Dawn reached for the tray and felt at a couple of the vials that had not been used, “Here. These are antibiotics. You probably won’t need them but it’s better to take them and not need them, then need them and not have them.”

Nijah had taken the offered vials giving the woman an odd look, “Right.” pursing her lips, she gazed over the given vials, “Thanks… Doc.”

Dawn simply offered a polite grin and parroted the words that kept ringing in her head, “Good luck.”

[gandr]

Five, err, Four Favorite Passages

Tagged by @gunbun !

I don’t have a whole lot to share yet, but what I do have, I’m very proud of so far, so I hope you enjoy it. I will be linking the stories after each passage when applicable (some of these will be WIPs). Thank you to people like gunbun, @autumnslance and everyone else who made me feel welcomed, it really means a lot.

Without further ado, here we go. (Light 5.0 spoilers)

1. My Heartfelt Feelings

“Ah, how sweet young love is.”

The Scion’s Rogue had begun his teasing even before any feelings were recognized or conveyed. Of course, such antics were either rebutted or outright ignored. Thancred was imagining things, of course there was a fondness there. Oda was an ally, a friend. Someone capable and reliable, if not on the side of unpredictable and wild under certain conditions. She was intelligent, kind and gentle in equal measure. Her casual mannerisms were a nice contrast to her own taciturn personality.

So then why, when she should be sleeping, was she silently watching her training under the Ala Mhigan moonlight?

She had witnessed her prowess first hand during her encounter with the primal Titan, from a safe distance and at the tail end of the encounter. But this….

It was so up close, more personal.

Each brutal THUD that rang out resounded off the stone walls surrounding the barracks as her lance dealt out punishment to the training dummy, over and over. The way she leapt back, landing nimbly and expertly, her tail stiff to keep her balanced. Her powerful, lean shoulder muscles flexing before she flung herself forward to unleash another string of precise, brutal strikes. Enthralling, entrancing, her movements were as fluid as a flowing river, as instant and devastating as a lightning strike.

“Y’shtola?”

Her heart jumped in her chest, but she was caught. Had she known the whole time?

“Ah, pray forgive me for spying on you, Oda.” Her calm tone betrayed her flustered state, but the way the beads of sweat rolled down her collarbones, disappearing into her cleavage wasn’t helping, or how her toned abs glistened in the light from the torches lighting the training area. Or so she gathered; Aethereal sight did lack for some more subtle detail.

“Pay it no mind.” The Dragoon smiled, that sweet, welcoming smile.

2. Unposted WIP (Oda’s backstory)

“Gods, they had a child.”

He quickly hissed an order at his men to cover and get the bodies of the victims out of the area; there was no need for the child to see them.

Indeed, within the ransacked remains of the family’s carriage, a small child curled up in the corner, her ears flattened against her head, holding her tail against her chest when Boernhelm shined a light inside. She looked at him with wide, frightened eyes, and he was momentarily surprised when he noticed that they were two different colors. The pair remained motionless, saying nothing. The girl, tense and rightfully terrified, and the man trying to appear as non threatening as he could; no use traumatizing the poor child any further.

“Hey, it’s okay, we won’t hurt you.” His tone changed from the stern, sometimes harsh tone he normally spoke with to a softer, gentler tone. If his men could hear him, they would likely think he was a completely different person. In all honesty, seeing this small girl hiding in a corner, likely thinking these were going to be her last moments, having likely heard her parents being mercilessly slaughtered….

“Come on, it’s okay. The bad men are gone, we’re going to help you,” he continued to patiently wait, trying to earn even a shred of trust from her. She couldn’t have been older than four, and already forced to witness how evil man could be, “Come on now.”

After what felt like an eternity, she shuffled towards him, seemingly trusting him enough to move from her hiding spot.

“I’m heading back to HQ. Secure the area and report back,” Beornhelm’s orders were quickly given as the girl clung to him. Even during the walk, she did not let go, or move her face from its spot buried in his chest.

Even after investigating into the identity of her parents, there was no one who came forward to take her in, and she had forgotten what her name was; some figured it was induced by the trauma she endured. Either way, Beornhelm had no choice but to adopt the child, whom he named Oda, into his home.

3. Another WIP (Post Vault)

With each strike, a sharp pain shot up her arm. Each time her fist slammed into the cold, stone wall outside of Camp Dragonhead, one could swear that cracks started to appear. The guards noticed her, of course, but none had the courage to approach her to ask her to stop, or even look in her direction for longer than a few seconds. They weren’t necessarily afraid of her, but none of them knew what to say to her. How do you console someone who’s grieving the loss of a dearest friend?

Each time his face appeared in her mind, another impact.

Each time she remembered his voice calling out to her in jubilation each time she walked through the door from the cold highlands, each time she remembered his genuine admiration when he spoke to her, his kind heart, his valiant nature….

Oda didn’t notice at first just how much blood was dripping into the snow from her now injured hand; knuckles scraped and cut open from repeatedly punching a frozen stone wall. It wasn’t the cold that made everything feel so numb….

No.

In all honesty the Warrior of Light had been naught but a walking shell for the past several days. It was hard enough to look Count Fortemps in the eye and confirm that yes, his son died protecting her. The only thing she really could say with any certainty, any clarity was that she was going to make the Archbishop and his cronies pay for what they did. Not just for perpetuating a war based on lies, but for ripping Haurchefant from her.

4. Reunited

“Y’shtola, you still love me, right?” She crossed her arms, looking away, “When you first saw me, and when you thought I was one of those things….even though I know it's because of the aether from the two slain Lightwardens….”

It still hurt.

It didn’t help that she seemed to be acting slightly differently around her. It had been three years in the First, in comparison to no more than a few weeks at best in the Source. That was a long, long time to wait on someone.

And she had been abandoned before.

“You fool. Do you even need to ask such a thing?”

“Please, yes or no.”

Instead of a direct response, Y’shtola tapped her chin with her knuckles, “...You know, shortly after I had arrived here, I was attending to my research, so that I might find a way to help the people of the First and return home to a certain Miqo’te Dragoon, when out of nowhere I felt as if I had been kissed, by a familiar set of lips. Warm and soft, with no shortage of affection.” She could feel that?

“Y-You did?”

“Why yes, I did. What, did you think you could wake the sleeping beauty with a kiss?” She chuckled, but where under different circumstances Oda would have responded in turn with her own jabs, instead her voice cracked as she spoke, “I didn’t know what else to do! You and everyone else just collapsed right in front of me, and the only thing that came to mind was the Vault! Y’shtola, I-”

As soon as she realized her mistake, she strode over and pulled the woman into a tight hug, “I’m sorry. That was rather cruel of me to say when you’re clearly upset.” How could she be so callous as to not consider Oda’s lingering trauma from the ordeals in Ishgard?

But, she still had to answer her question, didn’t she?

Her cheek was so warm in her palm as she caressed her face, foreheads resting together, using her thumb to wipe away any freshly shed tears. No, this wouldn’t do for a reunion three years coming. Their lips met softly, sweetly in a gentle kiss. And then another, and another, the both of them spurred on by the other.

She was almost embarrassed by how quickly she was losing her composure, but after three long summers of being literal worlds apart, she found it increasingly difficult to hold herself back, especially in these moments of reprieve that the two were able to share by themselves. 

#tagged in #my writing

[spacefantasyrogue]

OC Interview

Tagged on my star wars side blog by @cyrraluu but I felt inspired by her to branch out from the Galaxy Far Far Away and head to Eorzea too! So thanks Cyr for the tag and the inspiration! 

► Name ➔ “Hugo Brandt, adventurer and gladiator for hire, if the gil is right.” he stretches in his chair, casting his eye around ‘The Quicksand’ inn. ► Are you single ➔ “Indeed” ► Are you happy? ➔ “I am doing what I love, how could I not be?” ► Are you angry? ➔ “On occasion. Indeed ‘tis natural to be every now and then” ► Are your parents still married? ➔ “I have to assume so. I have not spoken to them in many years.” his tone is ‘matter-of-fact’ regarding this topic.

NINE FACTS

► Birth place ➔ “Radz-at-Han on the isle of Thavnair“ ► Hair color ➔ “Brown” ► Eye color ➔ “Blue” ► Birthday ➔ “11th sun of the fourth Umbral moon” ► Mood ➔  “Fair as can be, all things considered” he smiles ► Gender ➔ “Male” ► Summer or winter ➔  “Both have their upsides yet I have to say hot weather is better than the cold.” ► Morning or afternoon ➔  “The morning. An Afternoon in the desert is like it’s own Eighth Hell”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

► Are you in love? ➔ he smirks “Though there are many a fine lady and gentlemen in Eorzea, there is not yet one among them that has earned my true affections” ► Do you believe in love at first sight? ➔ “No. Love needs trust and commitment firstly.” ► Who ended your last relationship? ➔ “T’was he who ended it." taking another glance around the inn, he adds off-handedly “His loss.” ► Have you ever broken someone’s heart? ➔ “I doubt so” ► Are you afraid of commitments? ➔ he barks a laugh “Nay. I’d much prefer to have one if I am to be honest” ► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ “Of course!” ► Have you ever had a secret admirer? ➔ “If I knew it would not be a good secret would it?” ► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ he shrugs his shoulders, taking a gulp of ale. “It did break my heart to leave my home and family. T’was for the better though. I had to make my own path.”

SIX CHOICES

► Love or lust ➔ he smiles wistfully “To be in love is more precious than lust” ► Lemonade or iced tea ➔ “Lemonade I suppose. Cold tea of any kind is just disgusting!” ► Cats or dogs ➔ “Why not both?” ► A few best friends or many regular friends? ➔ “A company of best friends is not only reliable but more efficient” ► Wild night out or romantic night in? ➔ “I shan’t e’er turn down a party!” ► Day or night ➔ ”The daytime”

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

► Been caught sneaking out ➔ Hugo gestures to himself, a very tall and well built man, amusement written on his face “I’m hard not to miss unfortunately, I’d make a poor sneak”  ► Fallen down/up the stairs ➔ he chuckles “Once or twice” ► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ still in a jovial mood “You see the people of Ul’dah for yourself, no?” ► Wanted to disappear? ➔ Scoffs “and be forgotten? No, I want legends written about me” he winks.

FOUR PREFERENCES

► Smile or eyes ➔ “Eyes are beautiful, but a smile could light up a room” ► Shorter or taller ➔ he chuckles once more, lifting his mug back to his mouth, pausing to answer before taking a swig “I challenge you to find many taller than myself... No, the Ala Mhigan highlanders do not count” ► Intelligence or attraction ➔ “Intelligence. Looks aren’t everything” ► Hook-up or relationship ➔  “I would not turn down the offer of either one, yet a relationship would be nicer.”

FAMILY

► Do you and your family get along ➔ “We do. I left on good terms with them” ► Would you say you have a ‘messed up life’? ➔ “Crazy and wild, indeed!” ► Have you ever ran away from home? ➔ “No, fortunately I had no reason to” ► Have you ever gotten kicked out? ➔ “I gave them no reason either”

FRIENDS

► Do you secretly hate one of your friends? ➔ “Hate? Certainly not. Disagree with? Certainly.” ► Do you consider all your friends good friends? ➔  he grins wide “No” ► Who is your best friend? ➔  “I get on very well Thancred. I am not sure if I would name him my best friend. He certainly is my longest friend since moving to Eorzea” ► Who knows everything about you ➔ “No one here, which is probably for the better!”

TAGGING

Gonna tag @gnbrkrs​, @approved-trash​, & @azems-grapes​

#tysm for the tag! #cyrraluu #tag game answers #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv oc #oc: hugo brandt #hyur #gladiator #listen... y'all #please don't bully me for this #i'm still new to this game #lmao #though i probably deserve to be bullied for this mess #but thanks for giving me the first opportunity to talk about my non-star-wars ocs #i'll try and work on a full thing for hugo soon

[thebmatt]

Another set of Character Development questions, this time very specific to FFXIV

I cam across another set of character development questions on the Emet-Selch Bookclub discord, and since I love these things, I’m going to answer all 35 of them for all 4 of my crew! Ready? Let’s go!

1. Where were they during the Calamity? 

Franks had not yet made the journey between their worlds yet, he only did so about a year into the Seventh Umbral Era.

Fearless was still living on Aerslant, which I don’t know if there’s any canonical description of how the Calamity affected that region, but I’m going to go with “they felt the effects, but it wasn’t quite mass chaos like it was in Eorzea”

Dahkar and Rheika were both living in the Black Shroud but were mostly spared the direct effects. 

2. How did they acquire their Echo? 

All four of them received the Echo as it plays out in the MSQ. Dahkar and Rheika got it after dealing with the enraged treants at Lifemend Stump, Fearless and Franks after fighting the frenzied Mossback at the Seasong Grotto

3. Does their Echo function like it does in the MSQ? Or is there a twist to it? 

For the most part it functions like it does in the MSQ, but there’s some extra abilities that it provides that I’m planning on exploring in a future fic. To summarize: the Armory system is represented as a pocket dimension the Warriors can store clothing, weapons, and tools in. The Echo also allows them to “pause and save” any learning they have done in a particular discipline and resume it as if no time had passed whenever they choose

4. Do they have a canon mount or minion? What's its name(s)? 

All four of them have their chocobos, which I don’t have names for yet (the ones in game aren’t canon, as they’re mostly inside jokes). Aside from those, two of my crew have a couple of mounts special to them.

Franks has kept Maggie, the Magitek Armor liberated by the Garlond Ironworks. Most recently, he’s taken to using a Gabriel Alpha magitek unit that he liberated and rebuilt from the Bozjan Southern Front

Rheika is incredibly fond of the True Griffin she befriended while helping the Ananta at Castellum Velodyna. 

5. Where are they from? What was their childhood like? 

I’ve covered this in some of my “Details!” posts I’ve done for them all, so I’ll be brief here

Franks - from another world, grew up on a farm, pretty normal farmer’s childhood

Rheika - grew up outside of Gridania in a Keeper of the Moon community, a middleish child of a large number of sisters. Aside from being made to understand WAY too early that the Wood Wailers will always treat her like a second class citizen because she is a Keeper of the Moon, she had a pretty happy childhood

Dahkar - Born on the Azim Steppe, mother took him to Gridania after his tribe was killed. Similarly treated like outsider, but otherwise kept mostly to himself, only meeting a couple of friends growing up.

Fearless - born and raised in Aerslant, the Sea Wolf Roegadyn homeland. Child of wealthy parents, she had a privileged upbringing but no choice in anything.

6. How did they deal with the massacre on the Waking Sands? 

All of them were horrified and angry by it. Franks had never really experienced the Garlean Empire’s brutality firsthand before this, and it cemented a personal desire to fight them. Fearless, who’d begun to develop serious feelings for Minfilia, was almost beside herself with worry. 

7. How did they deal with Haurchefant's death? 

All of them took it pretty hard, but Dahkar, who’d been romantically involved with him by this point, was almost broken by it. His grief nearly consumed him in rage, quite literally, but “Fray” managed to help him hold it together until he could process and grieve. 

8. How did they feel about the liberation of Ala Mhigo? Do they feel it could have been handled differently? Where they at all bothered by how they were involved? 

I get the sense from the way this question was worded that the original author doesn’t care for the Stormblood storyline much, but honestly, I don’t have a problem with it. None of my crew are native Ala Mhigans, but they were all too happy to participate when it became clear that the time for it to happen had been chosen for everyone by Ilberd’s actions. Plus, y’know, there was that whole potential Bahamut-level primal they needed to deal with. Losing so handily to Zenos was a serious morale blow that messed them all up quite a bit, but all four of them went along with the plan. It offered them a chance to get better, to weaken the Empire and strengthen themselves. 

9. How do they feel about Zenos? 

THey all hate the guy for nearly killing so many of their friends and injuring them so badly. Later, pretty much universal relief when he died, pissed off that he didn’t stay that way, and now hell-bent on ending him once and for all. All of them pretty much agree that bastard needs to die.

10. How do they feel about their relationship with Hydaelyn? Midgarsormr?

Initially they accepted that Hydaelyn was a benevolent force, but once they learned of her origin, especially that she was a primal, a private debate broke out among them all the first chance they got to talk about it (which was after the Shadowbringers 5.0 MSQ when Rheika finally got back to the Source). Franks is very concerned that they’ve been tempered. Dahkar is now extremely wary of her, but isn’t certain their free will has been removed. Rheika and Fearless are unwilling to give up on her, but don’t understand why she stopped speaking to them. 

Initially, they were all furious at Midgardsormr, but came to realize that his deeds in severing their connection to Hydaelyn definitely made them stronger. They now regard him as a friend and a source of wisdom.

11. Were they more sympathetic to the dragons, Ishgardians, neither or both? 

Franks wasn’t certain of this, having known sentient dragons that had absolutely been wronged by mortals in his homeworld, but he didn’t see a way to fix this on his own, so he went along with helping the Ishgardians. He was absolutely on board with Alphinaud’s plan to try and end it, however. 

The others had far less experience with Dragons, and initially accepted their version of events without much thought. They immediately turned on the whole idea when the deception was exposed, though. 

12. How has their job affected whatever headcanon version is of the MSQ if any? 

As I’ve explained in previous posts, I’ve parsed out all of the jobs (except Monk) to my characters, with the aim of balancing the following ideas.

○ At all times during the story, one of them should be capable of tanking, one healing, and the others DPSing ○ If possible no one should have more than 1 job from any of the 5 roles ○ Obviously, don’t give jobs to characters that make no sense for them to pick up

It’s taken a few revisions, but I’m currently happy with the setup they have. For the most part, they’re extremely proficient with their chosen fighting styles and don’t mind swapping around to fill whatever need is present. For Heavensward, the trio who got their new jobs in Ishgard chose to stick with them for the most part, and for much of the Far Eastern parts of Stormblood, Rheika and Fearless chose to stay Ninja and Samurai for the most part, since it felt “right” to them to use those arts when fighting for Doma’s liberation.

13. Are they close with any of the other Scions? Who do they get along with the best? 

Franks gets along best with the more scholarly minded members of the Scions, specifically Y’shtola, Urianger, Krile, and G’raha when he later joins. 

Rheika and Tataru have become the best of friends since she joined. She’s always encouraged Tataru to better herself however she wants, and really loves the newfound confidence she’s gained

Dahkar is closest to Thancred among the senior scions. Among the other members, he’s flirted with Ephemie a fair amount, and is considering whether or not he wants to deepen that to something more serious.

Fearless is probably closest to Alisaie. She admires her confidence a great deal. 

14. Of the Scions, who are they most worried for? 

Franks is most worried for Y’shtola and her “aethersight” draining her life force. He’s actively trying to modify the SCH magicks that cured the tonberry plague to restore her eyesight (and Thancred’s ability to manipulate aether)

Rheika is probably most worried about Urianger, as he’s shown a very disturbing pattern for pursuing a hidden agenda to further the scion’s goals, He claims to be done with that, but she’s worried he might slip into old habits in the future.

Dahkar and Fearless aren’t particularly worried about any of the Scions, beyond the default “these are my adopted family and I don’t want anything to happen to them” level of fear.

15. Is your WoL promiscuous? Celibate? Or just waiting for the right person? 

Franks has so far been unable to move past the death of his wife to consider any new relationships. He’s also far older (if only mentally) than anyone who’d be interested, which also blocks him from considering anything new.

Rheika is aromantic, but pansexual. Romance does nothing for her, she just likes having fun with anyone she considers attractive and will respect her rule. She’s got a number of paramours in various parts of the world.

Dahkar is bi, and willing to engage in casual liaisons but at his heart, he really wants a committed relationship. After Haurchefant died, he hasn’t been involved in anything serious since, only crushing on people emotionally unavailable, such as Yugiri (bound by her oath to HIen) or Kurenai (bound by the oath of the Ruby Princess). He’s recently come to realize that this was a form of self-sabotage and is trying to open up again.

Fearless crushes on every pretty girl she has come across, but is usually too shy or lacking in self-confidence to follow up on them. She greatly regrets never telling Minfilia how she felt about her. Her time as a Warrior of LIght and the friendship she’s built with her fellows has helped tremendously. She’s currently involved in a poly triad with two other women.

16. What does your WoL do to relax? What sorts of distractions do they seek? Do they foster any bad habits as a result?

They enjoy spending time together or with the other Scions. If they’re at a point when they need to be alone, they’ll do the following.

Franks likes to tinker, build things, or solve arcanima problems. He can sometimes get wrapped up in any of those and lose track of time. He’s also prone to hiding away to avoid socializing.

Rheika will generally find someone to take to bed if she’s really stressed, otherwise she’s fine just hanging with people 

Depending on his mood, Dahkar will either find a monster to fight (never something he’s not confident he can beat) or leap to whatever the highest place he can find is and just enjoy the view.

Fearless enjoys reading novels, but as of late prefers spending time with her girlfriends.

17. Who is their favorite Alliance leader? Who do they get along with the best out of them? 

Counting only the 5 members of the Eorzean Alliance, in order from most to least.... 1. Lyse - because she’s one of them, come on 2. (tie) Merlwyb/Aymeric - because they are good people who have the strength to move their nation forward to a better place 3. Nanamo - she’s trying to make Ul’dah better, at least, even if she isn’t able to affect change. Plus she’s not doing enough to address corruption in the Brass Blades 4. Kan-E-Senna - she seems entirely content to leave her people at the mercy of elementals and isn’t doing NEAR enough to address racial inequality in Gridania

18. Does your WoL fully embrace their role as the WoL or do they try to remain humble? 

For the most part, they’re humble, but all of them are not afraid to use their titles/fame to get what they need or to make someone’s life better if they can do so. 

19. What do they think of the Heaven's Ward? 

The only ones they really got to know were the two that tried to condemn Alphinaud and Tataru for “heresy” and the one who attacked them when they were meeting with Hilda. Those were...not positive experiences. That, coupled with the fact that all of them willingly followed the Archbishop into summoning Primals into themselves pretty much sealed their opinion on the rest. 

20. Of all the places they've been to, which is their favorite? Do they like to go back there? 

Franks enjoys spending time in Ishgard, both because the manufactory is there and he enjoys collaborating with the other machinists and because he really enjoys working on the Restoration of the Firmament.

Rheika enjoys being in Mor Dhona and the Crystarium the most. It’s full of people all working together for the same end, and she’s happy being a part of it and doing her part to help.

Dahkar also loves Mor Dhona, but he’s found going back to the Far East oddly soothing. He feels a connection to the Azim Steppe, despite not really knowing what it means to live there, he wants to learn. 

Fearless has made Kugane her home, thanks in part to her one of her girlfriends living there and the other currently on an extended tour there as well. 

21. Are there any raid storylines (Ivalice, Coil of Bahamut, Werlyt, etc.) you consider to be canon for your WoL? Which ones don't you consider canon? 

I consider all of them to be canon, save potentially the NieR crossover alliance raids. Honestly, the entire story of that place just felt so odd and out of place that I didn’t really enjoy it, and I’m tempted just to say it didn’t happen. Everything else, though? Absolutely canonical.

22. Do you  have a unique tale for their job class or is it pretty much like what it is in the game?

Most of them are pretty much as they were in the game, though I have some personal headcanons on how Arcanima and the Paladin job work, the latter of which I’ve explored in one of my fics. The former will be somewhat explained in the current longform fic I’m working on.

23. Are there any side quest storylines that you're particularly fond of or think of as being canon to your WoL's experiences? 

Aside from the raids, alliance raids, and trial series, which 21 covered, I’d say all of the Beast tribe quests, the Scholasticate quests (which I suppose means Hildibrand has to be canon too), and most of the sidequesting in Sui-no-Sato are all canon experiences.

24. Does your WoL have any phobias? 

None of them have any real strange or irrational fears of note, not that I’ve been able to think of that make sense to the characters, anyway.

25. Do they have any habits or rituals that they do to soothe themselves? I.e. Playing with their hair, chewing their lip, fidgeting, etc. 

Franks will absentmindedly fidget with a tool or some spare parts. He’s actually built a small gadget that has some switches and buttons that do nothing for this purpose.

Rheika is restless and prefers to move while thinking. She tends to bounce a leg if she has to sit still too long.

Dahkar is pretty capable of concentrating without needing any kind of habit to aid in it.

Fearless tends to bottle it up until she can release it in private, either by meditating or dancing, depending on her level of anxiety and privacy expectations 

26. Do they suffer any traumas from any of their adventures? How do you foresee this affecting them going forward? 

Fearless was actually persuaded to pick of the Astrologian job thanks to the trauma of the banquet. She wanted to be able to predict anything that awful from happening to her and her friends again. 

LIkewise Dahkar was so traumatized by that (and the Braves’ betrayal), it was the final catalyst needed for him to be open to his Darkside and become a Dark Knight. He’s also the one most affected by Haurchefant’s death, and as I explained earlier, it’s subconsciously kept him from going after other romantic relationships

Rheika had nightmares about Tesleen for months, and they were made worse when she herself nearly became a sin eater. She practiced quick drawing her bow and hitting accurate long distance shots for a long time after that, wanting to be prepared to save someone from that kind of distance if she had to.

Franks has dealt with enough trauma in his previous life that a lot of what he’s seen on Hydaelyn doesn’t affect him as much as it otherwise might.

27. How did the events of Shadowbringers impact them? 

Rheika was the only one present for the events of 5.0, and my headcanon is that she wasn’t able to get home until after Hades was defeated. She felt alone and adrift without her fellow Warriors, and the trauma she endured did not help matters. Seeing them summoned to aid her was a balm on her soul, and when Franks figured out how to get the others to the First a little before the events of the Eden raid, she was overjoyed. 

28. Were they suspicious or open to Emet-Selch's presence when he first appeared? 

Rheika never believed he had good intentions. She always expected him to betray them at some point, but there didn’t seem to be much she COULD do before that happened. Even after he rescued Y’shtola, that was never enough for her trust. 

29. Did your WoL suspect anything was amiss with Urianger or the Crystal Exarch? Did they feel betrayed? Upset? When the truth finally emerged? 

Rheika immediately recognized G’raha Tia (”I mean he wasn’t even TRYING to change his voice!”), but she assumed there was a reason he was hiding from her, and she trusted Urianger’s vision. When the truth came out, she was angry about being lied to. She understood their reasoning, but threated to beat the crap out of both of them if they ever tried something like that again.

30. What was their highest point in Shadowbringers? Their lowest? What caused it? 

High point - ending Hades. Low Point - failing to save Tesleen

31. What were their first impressions of Hien? 

Aside from Rheika and Dahkar finding him very hot, they were all very impressed by his willingness to sacrifice his own life if his people chose not to fight any longer

32. Did they trust Asahi right away? Why or why not? 

Not right away, no. None of them are quick to trust Garlean officials, and Asahi felt way too slimy. None of them were all together surprised with how things turned out, save for when Maxima agreed to abide by the exchange after everything went south. 

33. How did they feel about what happened with Yotsuyu? Did they feel like she was justified in her actions? 

All of them felt bad for Yotsuyu’s horrible upbringing (and have made it VERY clear to Hien that he needs to make sure the new Doma does NOT allow for this to happen again), but accept that she made the choices she did and that ultimately, she needed to be stopped. 

34. Would you say your WoL is fundamentally a good person? Or are they a bad person that's been persuaded to do the right things? 

All of them are absolutely good people fundamentally. They know they’re the only ones that can fight the ridiculous battles they get into, and they’re okay with doing it, because ultimately, they want to save lives. 

35. How do they feel about the fact that they've killed a lot of people and/or things?

They all understand that for every life they have to take, it means more are safe, sound, and happy down the road. All of their choices are made with that goal in mind. 

#Final Fantasy XIV #oldmanfranks #Rheika Aliapoh #Fearless Willow #Dahkar Darkspear