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vierandancer · 11 months

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Phaedra was a Shard of Azem and predestined Warrior of Light on the Tenth reflection.

She was raised in Omnia, an ever-expanding territory nestled in icy mountains of her realm. Omnia had began relatively small and focused on technology, but in the last century, its royal family claimed to have been visited by the one true god. This mysterious deity stated that Omnia was humble, but its people were chosen, and destined to save the realm by conquering it in order to prevent a Calamity.

Thus, Omnia would -- like its equivalent in the Source, Garlemald -- would fall under the spell of the Ascians, and begin a crusade to conquer its neighbors in the hopes of protecting their world. Phaedra was a citizen of Omnia and proudly conscripted into service, where she was eventually sent to foreign lands to help subjugate others. Eventually, she was trained as an assassin, and assisted in several missions that helped bring other societies into the fold.

But Phaedra had caught sight of a meteor shower in her early twenties, and suddenly was visited by visions and whispers of yet another mysterious voice. She did everything she could to drown it out, while fighting down her horror at how cruel her superiors could be in their mission.

But still, she did as she was told, and did not dare acknowledge or share word of the voice calling out to her very soul. It was only after she was brought before the Queen of Omnia, who sought to honor her for her service, did she finally catch sight of the 'god' manipulating the royal family. It was in this moment that she recognized the Ascian from the nightmares she had fought to suppress, and could no longer deny the truth of the matter: that Omnia's well-meaning royal family had been manipulated into the delusions of a much more sinister force.

But Phaedra, an assassin who had been trained never to trust anyone and mostly kept to herself, did not have allies to turn to. She did not have the knowledge on her side of how to kill an Ascian. There was little to no intel to gather, as she normally would prior to stalking a target.

All she could do was challenge the Ascian when they were alone, which was what she did. By some grace of miracles, she did manage to best them -- but had not anticipated their ability to return to life.

The Ascian cut her down, used her as an example of any who opposed them, and quickly drove the Tenth to ruin in accordance with the plan to revive Zodiark.

#azem.#npc.#// brain: hey lanna why dont u make another azem shard #// me: OK

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abimee · 1 year

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literally nothing but pure and unresolved hatred rested in althaea's heart to the very end. and she really did mean it because tock has a deep and empty void of apathy towards emet even when he waxes about having a heart that can break too. the gap between those two simply never closed and tock never once felt bad for emet because deep down althaea was still in there screaming and fighting against him and his sadness. if she had her way she would grab emet by rhe head and throw him against a rock until nothing was left besides the hair held in her hands

#ruyans half of this as she is also azems shard is another layer. which is understanding that althaea never wants to forgive him #and that he has no right to use althaea for his sorrows. keep her name out of his sympathy romp #if he truly cared for her he would respect that she wants him to forget about her and never speak of her as a friend ever again #so every step forward between these two is ruyan (holder of contempt for someone he works with) at odds with this #freak bastard. who ruyan feels deep down has only grown more pathetic since and that althaea feels even less for now #for making such despicable creations like the allagan and garlean empires. for being such a piece of shit #she wants her name to never leave his mouth ever again and every time it does it makes smthn in ruyans stomach sick

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shiningluz-archived · 2 years

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It has been quiet in the small camp, with the blonde grabbing her staff, not really in alert but mostly in deep meditation, like grabbing her staff would help her in her small endeavor.

“It’s gonna rain” She says suddenly, still not opening her eyes and not really moving from her seat. Fleur goes quiet for a while again before opening her mouth “It smells like rain... Not too far but it’s not gonna last... So, we don’t have to worry about getting wet”

Turning to her companion while standing, she leaves her staff resting on a trunk of an old tree, sitting in front of the campfire.

“I apologize for not helping you put up the camp, Roi. Are you tired? I can keep watch while you rest”

-----

@brightblessed

#brightblessed #of quiet healing ; fleur #hey roi... guess what? have another shard of azem //shot

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trans-estinien · 2 years

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No thoughts head empty only 6.2 Reaper lady

#i know nothing about her but. but. but. i really want her to be the azem shard from the 13th #and yes i KNOW i theorized that zenos's avatar was the shard but also i would like to be bestfriends with another azem shard #i miss ardbert :(#also she is really really cool #koda gets a reaper buddy :) since he switched jobs in between 6.1 and 6.2

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myreia · 3 months

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FEBHYURARY XVIII: SHARD

Azem. A part of her has been numb since first she heard those fateful syllables, her restless mind returning again and again to the same questions. How much of her is… well… her? And how much of it is another? Are the decisions she makes truly her own? Do they come from her own judgement? Or is she simply a puppet dancing on the strings, her actions—even her damn personality—an echo of the woman who came before her? She knows both too little and too much about her, this woman of the ancient past. The progenitor of not only Aureia herself, but Ardbert, too, and countless others whose names and faces she will never know. A single soul broken to pieces like shards of a shattered mirror, forever reflecting what it once was. Emet-Selch could never see her as her own person, holding her up as an impure shadow of the beloved sister he lost. Venat loved her, so deeply and fervently it transcended the course of twelve thousand years and re-shaped the universe, and yet she could never reconcile whether that love was for her as herself or if it was for the soul her body housed. Even Lahabrea saw something of Azem in her once long ago, twisted though it had become. A sliver of his former lover, flaring deep within the heart of the woman loved by the victim he possessed. Perhaps that’s what stayed his hand when he had the killing blow that night in the Praetorium. At most, she has a name and a handful of anecdotes. Iphigeneia. Scholar, traveller, a sorceress of eld with the power of the sun in her eyes. The connection between them—past and present, Ancient and Sundered—is a paradox. An enigma. She yearns to know more. She desires to know nothing. And despite it all, she is left to wonder… would she be proud of her?

#queueing my azem's complicated lore at an ungodly hour don't mind me #febhyurary #febhyurary 2024 #ffxiv #ff14 #final fantasy 14 #gpose #gposers #azem #ffxiv wol #half-elezen #hyur midlander #endwalker #endwalker spoilers #aureia malathar #oc tag #myreia screenshots

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sunderedazem · 2 months

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14 - bitter

Ancients? :)

You KNEW what you were asking for. So have some Elidibus POV of Azem and Emet-selch's break-up before the Sundering.

There are shards of red on the steps, and utter silence in the square. He blinks. Etheriys feels a little like a dream now, with the soft roaring of so many souls dulling his senses- but this sting of sorrow and shame he feels, distantly. It aches in a way he's sure he's forgotten, almost. And yet he and all those within yet remember…

The people are watching (not saved- but soon) stricken, frozen - all but one, whose cowl hangs down his back, whose silver staff is still tight-gripped in white-knuckled fingers. Who is walking away with a snarl on his lips and tears streaming down his bare face. Who has before the entirety of Amaurot denounced the Convocation, who has accused them of forgetting their duty, who has- has accused him of bias-

They had to save the star. They have to save the star. And He was their answer. Is their answer. The roaring in his ears will never cease, now. He thinks the stretch of his very self was a small price to pay for the blue of the sky. He knows it. He volunteered.

So many had. And yet-

Azem storms out of the city center with his staff aglow in Light, wreathed round himself like a shield against- something, and he does not look back. There is only the sway of his long white braid as he departs, and Elidibus- watches it. Watches the narrow shoulders and frail stature recede into the distance, until shattered and broken and burning buildings obscure him from sight completely. Watches as one of Themis's closest friends turns his back on Zodiark and all the salvation he promises.

Elidibus does not understand it. He- remembers. Azem had pleaded with the Convocation to stay Zodiark's summoning, to give him time to find an alternative. Half the lives of their people was too awful a price for him - and Elidibus cannot condemn him for that love he has for their star and people, cannot condemn him for his dissent. Azem is the Traveler - the Shepherd. It would go against everything his seat stands for to agree. Lahabrea had not agreed - nor had Pashtarot - but in the end, Elidibus could not be partial. And thus Azem was given his time to find another way. But should Amaurot begin to burn- then they would have to act.

But he returned too late. Three days too late. And his solution was…incomplete. An effort commendable, to be sure. A solution worthy of gentle praise, and perhaps use later. But the star had fallen to ruin, and Zodiark could restore it. And then- then the star could restore their people. And Zodiark would save them all. He would save them.

He will. No matter if one man refuses to understand. Elidibus and Zodiark will save him too.

No matter how bitter that salvation tastes.

There are shards of red on the steps. Emet-selch is kneeling among them, his hands shaking, gathering the pieces one at a time. He is not crying, Elidibus thinks. Not yet, at least. He seems more stunned than anything. Of course, he is not the only one, if the way the silence still rings deafening has any meaning.

Azem has always had a temper, though it was not often apparent. But this- this by far had been the worst outburst Elidibus had ever seen from anyone, let alone from Azem. And worst of all, it had been a willful misinterpretation- a cruel misinterpretation, made solely to make a point about their plans to sacrifice the lesser creatures of the star to return those given to Zodiark to life. And- and perhaps Azem even had a point, if a misguided one.

He had always been thin of aether, incapable of all creation magicks no matter how simple, and sickly for it besides. His elevation to the Fourteenth Seat had been long delayed by a discussion of his health and the risks posed to his own wellbeing, rather than any disagreement with regard to his temperament or accomplishment as a researcher and theorist both. But to use his own recurring illness - which Emet-selch had cared for him through countless times - as a bludgeon to say that the Convocation must therefore count him among those lesser creatures-

I too am thin of aether. Weak, sickly- imperfect. Incapable of creation. Are these the only requirements for you to be willing to slaughter living beings in order to undo the willing sacrifice of half our people? I gave you another option! Those who are thin of aether - thinner than me! - may use this dynamis to restore our star, and you dismiss their capabilities save for their worth as livestock? You swore to hearken unto my solution, Emet-selch- you promised me you would have faith I would find a way and now you- you reject what I have found in favor of dishonoring your seat and returning the dead to life? Fine then! I count myself among these lesser beings freely, for I am more akin to them than you. And should you wish to wet Etheriys with their blood, you will start with me. And you will draw the blade across my throat with your own hands.

But even if he had a point- Emet-selch had only stared, utterly lost for words. The entire square had been quieter than death. Even Zodiark had seemed to still. And then, caught in the folly of sentiment, Emet-selch had stepped forward, had reached out a hand, had called-

Helios- Helios, please-

There had been a whirl of black, a flash of red- and then Azem's mask had shattered on the wall above Emet-selch's head, had shattered into shards of his office even as his sigil had glared red over silver eyes.

I am Azem, Emet-selch. I revoke the privilege for you to call me by my personal name- not only do I not know this man you have become, but us lesser creations have no names to speak of, now do we?

Elidibus had not known how to stop him. Emet-selch had just dropped his hand, jerking a little as if he had been struck by a physical blow.

And then Azem had gone.

And now he is gone. And Emet-selch is on his knees, gathering the shards of that shattered mask, cradling them carefully, as if he could piece together what was broken. As if he could repair a heart threaded with thorns, or another cracked down the center. As if saving the mask would save the man.

“...he will come back,” Emet-selch whispers then, staring at the bitter, broken ashes of Helios in his hands. “...I- I will have that much faith in him.”

And Elidibus- and in Elidibus, the dark waxes strong, and he lays a hand on Emet-selch's shoulder.

“Nay- we will save him, my friend,” he promises, and watches as golden eyes behind a red mask snap to him and glaze over. There is weight in his words now - the promise of a thousand thousand souls and the hope of their people. “We will save him, and the star as well. We will.”

The doubt and grief in Emet-selch's eyes disappears, wiped clean by faith. And Elidibus smiles, heart heavy with certainty and the knowledge that in time, Themis's dearest friends will mend the rift born between them here. They will save Azem - they will - and the star he so loves, and all the people too. Elidibus will not allow for any end other than perfect salvation. The bitterness of these sorrowful days will fade, and Azem will smile again, and look upon Emet-selch with that loving mischief in his eye, and this will all be but a distant memory.

They will.

He will make sure of it.

Enjoy the angst/keep the change ya filthy animal

#ffxiv #emet selch #azem #azemet #azemet break up #elidibus #elidibus pov #ffxiv prompts #helios > corrain gealai #corrain gealai #Azem: Helios #this works both in my solo ffxiv story and in the combo universe with Lelesu-Seleukos #and YEAH. this is cruel. Helios doesn't know about the tempering m #but even so #what a hell of a thing to say to the man who nursed you through every illness and loved you for years #like they have a *decades* long relationship if not centuries. and Helios burns it all over this #to be fair to him he is FURIOUS at the Convocation for deciding on the second and third sacrifices to restore the star #like he's figured out dynamis can help here #whether or not it works....well. anyway. but its a viable option and he's not even heard out. even by his own partner #so he's awful about it. very yikes.#this is the last time Emet-selch sees him too.

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voidsentprinces · 7 months

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...a'ight...so...update to the Ultima theory.

Refresher, Rhalgr is said to of met Venat during her days as Azem. They joined forces in order to destroy an enormous meteor that was heading towards Eitheirys. While destroying the meteor would later lend itself to the legend of Rhalgr as the Destroyer and a Meteor being his symbol. There is a chance fragments of this meteor fell down to the world after being blown apart. JENOVA travels from planet to planet in the FFVII mythos as a meteor. And Ultima, the High Seraph appears as an extradimension alien abomination in Ivalice. It is possible either Ultima has a fragment shard in JENOVA in another reflection or they are part of a similar race of extradimensional beings. In any case, it is never exactly stated where Athena discovers the Heart of Sabik. But I am going to make a jump in thought process and assume that while Ultima might of been banished when the meteor was destroyed, a fragment of its essence in the Heart of Sabik lands on Ancient Eitheirys and is discovered by Athena.

So how does, Ultima return to nest in Ivalice? She descended unto Eitheirys once again several hundred years before hand. Shattoto is given legend of summoning a great meteor to bring down upon the Kingdom of Mhach just because she could. But the level 60 - 70 BLM quest reveals she actually used her power to destroy a Meteor that was hurdling towards Eitheirys. Despite destroying it, she only managed to shatter it causing it to fragment across the world. Thus allowing Ultima to land far away from her Kingdom and nest where we eventually find her in Ivalice later.

#{ art by surfacage }

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the-unending-journey · 12 days

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Gonna post this here too - another WoL/OC question

So if your WoL/OC were ever asked about anything that they could talk forever about, what would it be?

And as always my answer under here

If you ever manage to get her to trust you enough to even open up more about herself, Kiyo would happily talk your ear off about the various flora she studies in her travels. She really loves studying plants and all their various properties (which is definitely a trait carried over from her Azem self), but she also just really enjoys flowers and gardening in general as well.

She's also extremely invested in the properties and study of aether, ESPECIALLY after the events of Endwalker and the whole thing surrounding Dynamis. That's something she specifically does more research on and trying to find more ways to tap into and study it beyond what's known about it already

Also after dealing with various things involving the other shards and going to places outside of the star, Kiyo becomes really enamored with the idea of what else lies beyond the reaches of Etheirys. She's more than happy to share whatever theories and speculations to anyone that's willing to listen to her about this

#ffxiv #wol questions #wol qotd #nancy finish the msq #endwalker spoilers #oc: kiyo #lore: character #this will probably flop on Twitter like always...

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woltourney · 1 year

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ROUND 2 / SIDE A / POLL 2

Posey (@motley-ember) v. Eleutherios (@trans-estinien)

Posey:

q. What is your WoL name and pronouns? a. Posey, he/him!

q. What is your WoL's species? a. Hrothgar

q. What is your WoL's class? Or classes? a. Paladin! (Additional note from submitter: Culinarian)

q. What data centre/server are you on, if you want people to find you? a. Phoenix

q. Tell us a bit about your WoL! a. Posey is a big softie and massive himbo who loves cooking, but loves his friends even more. He was trained by his grandmother in the art of the blade, and enjoys using all of his skills for the good of the world! The food that he makes is said to be better than what is served to the Sultana in the royal palace.

q. Why should YOU win? (Answer IC!) a. I don't really care if I win, but I thought this was a good way to make new friends! My Baba said that I should put myself out there more!

q. Anything else you wanna add? a. He's gay and he has a pet teacup pig. He WILL try and become friends with anyone and everyone.

Eleutherios:

q. What is your WoL name and pronouns? a. Eleutherios, He/Him

q. What is your WoL's species? a. Unsundered Ancient

q. What is your WoL's class? Or classes? a. Currently (as of 5.3 onwards) Eleutherios' main job is Dark Knight

q. What data centre/server are you on, if you want people to find you? a. Eleutherios Azem on Sargatanas, Aether!

q. Tell us a bit about your WoL! a. Have you ever thought "Huh, I wonder how the story of Final Fantasy XIV would change if Azem was never sundered?" WELL DO I HAVE THE WARRIOR OF LIGHT FOR YOU! Introducing Eleutherios! The lovable Azem who spent his days travelling Etheirys, caring for its people, and annoying the Convocation. Until everything fell apart, of course. On the eve of the Sundering, he denounced both the Convocation and Venat, choosing to find his own path to end the Final Days. Paths that didn't involve summoning gods or killing half of the star's population and then some. But Venat and the others had chosen their courses, and fate had been set. Now, Eleutherios should have died when Hydaelyn broke the world. But he did not. Why? Well, because of the timeline splitting in two. When? When a traveller from the future arrived in Elpis to learn the truth of the Final Days, of course. This traveller? Eleutherios himself. Hydaelyn had spared him from Her spell, making him Her chosen, in the same vein as the Unsundered Ascians being chosen to carry out Zodiark's will. Eleutherios believed the Ascians' plan to restore the world to what it once was foolish. Their people were dead. Nothing can fix that. They just have to push forward and make the best of the future they've been given. But his fellow Unsundered couldn't see this, trapped in their ideals of what the star should be. They needed to see it for what it is. But how could he expect the Convocation to do that, when the only one of them who ever seemed to care about the individual lives of the people was him? So someone has to fight for the new life springing up across the star. And thus began his great work. He's risen up to be the Warrior of Light countless times, over and over, for eons. With each Rejoining marking another failure. Time and time again he had to watch as everything he fought for was reduced to ash. Once, twice, seventh. It seemingly never ended. But what choice did he have? If he didn't fight against the Ascians, he was practically working for them by letting them get away with these atrocities. And so he carries onward as he's always done. But unbeknownst to him, this time was different. This time he meets the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. This time he travels to another Shard and manages to prevent a Rejoining. This time he isn't alone to face the second Final Days. This time, everything will finally be ok.

q. Why should YOU win? (Answer IC!) a. "Well, I'll be honest with you, I don't mind if I win or not. I just like participating and getting to know everyone! Oh, and I'll promise I'll hold back, for their sake. Though if they're Warriors of Light I'm sure they'll all hold up just fine! But if you want a serious answer about why I specifically should win, then…" [Eleutherios takes a moment to think.] "I should win based off of the fact that I have eons more experience in this whole 'Warrior of Light' business than the rest of them do. I've been at it since the Sundering! Not to say that my many, many years of experience is needed to be a Warrior of Light, or that I'm better than the rest, which couldn't be further from the truth. I think we all stand equal, sundered or not."

q. Anything else you wanna add? a. I have so much more lore for Eleutherios and I had to cut down this introductory essay by a LOT. I'm currently working on an extended version which covers ALL of his lore. If you want more Eleutherios content just send me an ask on tumblr, or scroll through the [#eleutherios (azem)] and [#unsundered azem au] tags! I'm always happy to talk about him!!

#💎 shout #💎 round two

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azems-familiar · 2 months

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because i have apparently lost my mind: snippet from the Emet-Selch/Crystal Exarch oneshot i'm writing beneath the cut. WHAT am i doing with my life.

“Ah, Emet-Selch,” the Exarch says pleasantly, gaze never moving from his book. There is a streak of dark ink smeared across his right jaw and cheek, vanishing under the cowl - Emet-Selch has the urge to wipe it away, which he, for the moment, ruthlessly suppresses. Such an action would only be appropriate if he could maneuver the shock of it into drawing information from the man. “To what do I owe the pleasure this time? I’m afraid to inform you that the tea has long gone cold - you are later than I expected you to be. Were you held up by sin eaters, or some such?”

Emet-Selch raises an eyebrow, briefly thinking of the pot of tea he’d noticed - so it had not been forgotten but rather left alone in anticipation, had it? Interesting - and crosses the room to the computer display set into the far wall, tapping absently at the interface to adjust the heat in the room up by two degrees. Whether he’s redressed himself in his favored coat from his Garlean days or not, the Exarch still prefers far cooler temperatures than he does.

“I was working,” he says with a dismissive wave. As always, the Tower’s interface locks him out of any of its more intensive systems, but he dedicates a moment or two to attempting to circumvent the security systems anyway - they are enemies, after all, and should the Exarch grow lax then Emet-Selch, with the patience of an immortal, must be prepared to take advantage of it. “I do have a purpose here beyond studying your intriguing secrets, Exarch, though I understand it may pain you to acknowledge such.”

Things are progressing too slowly, with the Oracle of Light’s repeated rebirth and Eulmore’s war against the sin eaters, and Light is the power of stasis, of stillness and complacency and languishing indifference. A Rejoining requires not only the element to be ascendent in the shard to be swallowed, but for its incorporeal aether to naturally tend towards the alignment such element lies under as well - a rather arduous task. Thankfully the city’s current mayor is ill-inclined to be ousted by his unhappy citizenry, and more concerned by maintaining power than by actually making any marginal difference in the state of his world. Convincing him and his pregnant wife to allow Emet-Selch to bind a Lightwarden to the babe in her womb had been, in all honesty, far easier than expected.

Of course he could not attend tea with the Exarch in the armored robes his colleagues favor, either, which had necessitated a brief trip to the rift to amend. Perhaps if they ever formalized what time these little meetings take place - but that would ruin the game.

The Exarch hums, turning a page and tapping his pen against his lips, leaving another little dot of ink behind. Distracting, that. “How honored I am, then, that you should see fit to waste your time on me and my little hidden quirks.” There’s a wryness to his rich voice and one corner of his mouth curls ever-so-slightly upwards, a flicker of amusement betraying the words themselves.

Yes, Hythlodaeus would indeed have liked this man. A shame that for the Rejoinings to continue, for Emet-Selch to restore his home and his people and the family he loves so dearly, the Exarch cannot be allowed to continue.

(He will not think about whether Helios- whether Azem and Seleukos would have enjoyed his company or not. It is difficult enough to think of Hythlodaeus, whose soul yet resides in Zodiark and can be easily restored, who sacrificed himself willingly, no matter how deeply the act had torn Emet-Selch’s own heart out, or what scraps of it were left by then; the other two members of their family had left Amaurot behind in a whirlwind of fury after vicious arguments over Zodiark’s worthiness and capacity for salvation and the methods He required, and they had died out in the wilderness, lost because of Emet-Selch’s inability to convince them to see reason. Lost because of pointless vitriol. And while Zodiark’s power is great indeed, Emet-Selch remains uncertain of if He can resurrect souls He does not contain - a question he has never put towards Elidibus for fear of what it might reveal of his eternal slavery to sentiment.

And thus- thus it is too painful to think of them, especially in such a context. Besides, Azem had made himself quite clear in their final conversation-turned-altercation, and even if Emet-Selch can never not remember him as a lover, he can at least do his best to remember it only in the past.)

He shakes his head slightly to clear it and crosses the study to the desk, nudging the Exarch’s stack of books sideways to give him space to perch on its edge, glancing idly down at the paper. Spell notes indeed, as he had thought - and he recognizes the shape of them, though the method seems scarcely developed at all. “Fascinating,” he muses, trailing a finger over the seven-pointed star. “Now what use could a Sundered soul such as yours have for a summoning invocation? Do you intend to call sin eaters forth from the Empty and hasten your own demise, or do you truly believe your people could make use of this? You will find no method of reducing the aetheric strain to something their pale souls can handle.”

The Exarch goes still for the first time, gaze finally sliding off his research materials to rest on Emet-Selch’s hand and hip, propping him up. He’d sit more comfortably on it but for the fact that that would require disturbing too much of the Exarch’s work, and for everything he is, Emet-Selch was once a scholar of his own. Enemy or no, he respects the Exarch; he can offer him this much consideration.

“A bit of scholarship,” the man says after a moment. He sounds genuine, but there’s something about the tilt to his mouth that has Emet-Selch frowning slightly, trying to puzzle out what he could possibly be doing here. Of course he and Syrcus Tower traveled from the Source at some future point in time - or, more likely, were sent. Sent by someone with enough power to open a gate, which the Tower itself could if charged with aether…and yet who remains in the Source even as it is now who knows its systems so? And what could the Exarch possibly have to gain from a summoning spell? Azem was the only person in existence Emet-Selch would ever believe capable of summoning across the rift between worlds, and little enough of the First remains…

“One never knows when the Oracle of Light will be handy in a pinch, no? Ah- perhaps that’s a sore subject,” the Exarch continues, rousing Emet-Selch from his thoughts, and he rolls his eyes at the mention of Minfilia. What an irritation. “Perhaps I am making it to ensure my favorite teatime conversation partner does not miss out on his three-sugars two-spoonfuls-of-honey steaming cup of black tea. Hm?”

If they had not been performing this song and dance for near five decades, Emet-Selch would take some offense at the easy declaration of his tea preferences. As it is, he can’t quite stop himself from saying, “You would not be the first to think it amusing to forcibly reduce me to my constituent aether and pull me across the Lifestream for a meal.” Azem had had…a particular sense of humor. “Do you intend to flaunt your ill-gotten knowledge of my drinking habits without providing me so much as a drop of hospitality? And here I thought you civilized.”

#ramblings #ffxiv #my writing #emet selch #g'raha tia #do they even have a ship name???

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elizabethrobertajones · 3 months

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the conversation about haldrath gave me a brain blast and it may be completely stupid but. haldrath might have been an azem shard, and wol's canon class for heavensward was supposed to be dragoon. tenzin was pretty heavily implied to have been an azem shard and he was a samurai. meteor's canon class for the doma part of stormblood was a samurai. ardbert was explicitly another azem shard and wol's class for arr was a warrior. do you see. do you see what i'm thinking. are all of wol's 'canon' classes for each expansion based on referencing previous shards/incarnations

WHERE ARE MY PALADIN AND DRK PAST LIVES

more importantly, there is a very very sexy Viper past!Us we're gonna learn about soon :3

My choice for MNK past life is the guy who punched a whole temple into shape in The Fringes.

#ffxiv #Dawntrail spoilers #oh what a good realisation

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birues · 7 months

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Sacrifices

Characters: Emet-Selch, WoL

Word count: 1.9 k

Summary: Twelve millennia ago, youngest member of Convocation Elidibus decided to sacrifice himself to save his people. Now, the young Oracle of Light decides to sacrifice herself to bring Minfilia back so the world can be saved. Respective Emet-Selch and Azem/WoL conversations on these sacrifices throughout time. And about the sacrifices of their own.

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World Unsundered

Azem runs. Two legs on the ground one dart to the front followed by another. No aim. For once traveler of the Convocation has no desire nor destination. Would that she could lash out the rage. Would that she could lash out at the improbability of their mad plan. But here they are, hatching on her heart like a dead star. Dying star. Dying…

Themis. Gaia. Themis. Gaia. The tip of the spear swings between them as the Convocation argues, argues, and argues. Eventually, Themis grabs it to stab it into his own heart. Oh, that child.

And the others. The sacrifice hasn’t been made yet. A council of boundless wisdom and they-

The mask hides, only until the tears reach her chin. Her breath struggles to get out. It won’t be long until he comes for her. The cracks are getting bigger with every argument. Both are too stubborn for their own good. He dresses up madness as duty, she still looks for a way out where all she can see is the bottomless despair engulfing even the sun. Oh, she ran away. Run away into desolation. Into the devastated land that once was a bustling port town and its surroundings. But none can escape the all-seeing eyes of great Emet-Selch. Not with their souls bonded, three of them.

She shoots a look at the sky that threatens to break out into catastrophe once again. Alas… after everything she owes him at least that much.

The fond smile that appears on her face begets grief. It took him even less time than she guessed it would take.

“Here you are.” The anger fueling him has a different hue than the normal. “The world is threatening to break apart and here I am going after a convocation member who throws tantrums like a child and walks away from the meetings.”

“A child?” Ah. Bitterness. The shell splits open. “I didn’t ask you to come. I won’t apologize for leaving. You simply weren’t listening to what I had to say.”

“I tire of these arguments, Azem.” A strong grip on her shoulder and he faces her now. He’s not wearing his mask. Good. One swift move and neither is she anymore. “Do you truly think you’re the only one who cares for the boy? Is your opinion of the rest of the Convocation that low that you think we’re making this decision lightly? That I am making this decision lightly?”

The grip on her shoulder tightens.

“Look at the sky! Look at it! The world is dying! Who are you to deny the Emissary his agency? His duty?!”

Her hand finds his.

“I don’t. I didn’t.” She gazes at the man who’s going to carry the shattered world on his shoulders. So does her composure shatter. “But I refuse to believe there isn’t another way. I cannot-”

Maybe it’s her despair. Maybe it’s his. But the anger ceases as he scoops his dearest friend into his arms. “We’re out of time, my dear.”

A sob. “He’s too young.”

A sigh.”I know.”

Her words are muffled, pressed into his shoulder that she is. “Does Hythlodaeus know?”

Novagrandt, the First Shard

Emet-Selch knows how to find the hero. Not that he has to try. Her soul, that unmistakable unique flame, has never been hard for him to follow nor feel, though dimmed that it is.

Alas, he supposes, Even if he was diminished as the miserable souls inhibiting the broken words it wouldn’t take him long. A desolate place. Just out of sight enough that she wouldn’t stumble upon acquaintances. Just close enough that she would be there when she is needed. Across eons and countless lifetimes… To his dismay, he’s still privy to the traces she’s left in this reincarnation. Insulting. Infuriating. Heartbreaking.

There she is, his greatest hope sitting under a tree gazing at the night sky she has earned. Lakeland night offers some cool breeze, the last tatters of what passes as summer here.

“I must admit, I didn’t think it would be you who would storm out like a child who’s throwing a tantrum.”

It’s after he utters the words he realizes how familiar they are. A small huff, a different voice carries the same pain. “I knew it would be you who would come to annoy me.”

He shrugs. Oh, the sweet irony. He can say he’s only repaying her but… that would reveal too much of his cards. He’s revealed enough already. Enough that he’s earned that look a few times, the furrowed brows and eyes albeit different, same hue, piercing to his very being. No. This is not her. He needs to remember.

This is not her.

“Someone needs to knock some sense into you. Since your comrades are busy enough with their insignificant bickering not to notice, I took the liberty.”

“Oh great Emet-Selch, how would I ever repay you.” She laughs but it’s empty as the void. She turns to her backpack, in the pretense of searching for something—an excuse to gain seconds to gather herself no doubt.

She settles for the grapes, which end up in his lap. Of course.

"A villager gave them to me. Wouldn't take no for an answer."

"Somehow I doubt you would say no."

She shoves a couple to her mouth. “For grapes? Never.”

“Maybe you should’ve saved some for that poor child, though I must concede heroic sacrifices hardly work wonders for the apatite.”

“They don’t.” A sigh. "Regardless of what I think, though, she has made her decision. Who am I to deny her agency?” A grape gets crushed between Emet-Selch’s fingers. Surely he has heard wrong. But the wretched hero continues, reflecting his own words back to him, unwarped by cracks. “Her duty?”

Ah, the crude cruelty. A blade hurts more if it is rustled after all. Not that she is aware of it, this shade. Parroting back the words.

“Yet, you have made the attempt.”

“That I did. There should be a better course.”

“Maybe that is your problem, hero." Reproach, old and soar, tinges in his being. "Have you ever thought about that?”

“And which problem of mine do you refer to?”

“You, in your nativity, genuinely believe if someone tries hard enough there will always be a better way." Azem. Leaving. Swearing she will find a way. "But most of the time, there simply isn’t. Sometimes you have to make hard choices. You have to make sacrifices.”

“That’s a bold claim." My my, that hit a nerve. "That I do not know what sacrifice entails. You do not know me."

“Believe me, my dear, I know more about you than you probably know about yourself." Because he does. He did make an effort to know this particular shard who has brought low so many of their brethren. "Of course, you’re inclined to think what you sacrificed is unparalleled to any-”

“I never said that.”

“Regardless, those sacrifices which you hold so holy have taught you nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

It’s always the same. Almost the same. And for a moment it’s Azem whose hurt soul flinches. Whose head bows down in defeat. “Maybe you’re right.” A broken laugh as if it’s her who carries the burden of twelve millennia. “Maybe I’m destined to fail to save those I hold dear. Everyone has their fatal flaws.”

Emet-Selch looks away. Averting his eyes as he often did in their youth, the only manner of escape he allows himself. A sigh which he does not know how she interprets. He needs to change course before he makes a mistake.

“I for one do not understand your meaningless melancholy over this. As far as I understand, the original Minfilia was one of your closest friends.”

“She was.”

“The gunbreaker’s dilemma, I understand. He has taken care of the child for some time now. But surely your affection for real Minfilia far surpasses whatever affection you hold for a lass you have just met. One would think you would be happy to get your friend back.”

“And what manner of existence would that be? Let’s say I’ve brought her back despite her wishes. That I sacrificed a child to bring her back. She would be disgusted with her own existence.” She grimaces in sympathy. “She would be miserable.”

But she would be alive.

“Made peace with her loss, have you?”

“How can I?” Emet-Selch almost raises his brows, such a vehement rebuke… “It was my carelessness that led to the events of the Bloody Banquet."

“Yet it was your beloved mother who claimed her, no?” As she claimed the broken pieces of Azem’s soul. Fury lurches at his stomach. “ Hydaelyn has always excelled on cruel jokes.”

“It was Minfilia’s choice, Emet-Selch. She offered herself in the hopes of saving the world.” She abruptly halts her words. Uncharacteristically. And he wishes he didn’t recognize the retreat, the way she tucks her words back into her throat when she realizes it will be pointless.

“Go on, hero, speak your mind.” he spits the word as a poison. “Draw parallels between your friend’s misguided attempt on something she didn’t understand and my brethren’s noble sacrifice. To convince me that– Look! We’re not so different after all!” Go on, insult Hythlodaeus’ memory. “The sacrifice, if I may add, which is the very reason you and your miserable ilk continue to stand on this very star.”

He expects fear, at least a tiny speckle of shame. But instead, she furrows her brows and bears her gaze on his like dual suns. Ah, there it is again. That look. Someone in the fog, without a compass, desperately trying to find their way. Azem’s crystal burns in his pocket. It would be easy, so easy to get her back, even if she’s— wrong. So very wrong.

Alas, she hasn’t earned that yet.

“You’ve lost someone very dear to you, haven’t you?” A pause, and her face crumbles. “To your god?”

Hythlodaeus' sad smile as he walks away flashes in his mind. She had learned of it way too late. By his request. Not even having an opportunity to say goodbye. What was it that Hythlodaeus said? “In matters of sentimentality, she is even worse than you.”

Yet here she is. With half a soul and no memory.

“How very astute of you, hero. Yes, everyone I ever loved either sacrificed themselves to Zodiark or got splintered to pieces by your mother.” Like you. “There really isn’t a third option now, is there?”

She ponders her words as the silence stretches. Oh, an argument builds in her chest and the defiant twist of her mouth reminds him too much of Azem during the Final Days, it hurts.

Her words, however, are worse.

“And what makes you think that the people you labor so hard to bring back would be okay with the blood you spilled for this endeavor?”

Emet-Selch breaths in. Reins in the wrath threatening to explode. Breaths out. And gets up to leave. That’s enough masochism for a day. “You’re once again under the illusion that you’re truly alive.”

“If you succeed,” she calls out. He stops in his tracks before stepping into the portal. “If you succeed and a version of me ever finds herself in your paradise, know that I will not be okay with it.”

“If you ever find yourself in my paradise, I assure you, you shall not remember any of it. No matter how fiery your oaths of remembrance are, they will be washed clean by your rebirth. Such is the law of the underworld.” And as he looks at her over his shoulder, he pities her, truly. “Do not take it personally.”

As Hades finally steps into the shadows, he pretends not to hear her final words.

“I may not. But you, Emet-Selch, will remember.”

He does not need her to remind him of his burden.

#ffxiv #final fantasy 14 #emet selch #warrior of light #azem #ff14 #shadowbringers #shadowbringers spoilers #they live in my head rent free as always #i wrote this w tuana in mind but there's no mention of name #the parallels are killing meeee

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