#asks ; playing postmoogle

[tsunael]

Send ✨ to see them in something they aspire to wear or would like the chance to wear.

screenshot meme | accepting!

It was ever her wont to wear white.

#I might be the only wolcr*d shipper who thinks he should never be domesticated and therefore she will never wear this in any capacity lmao #don't ask me about my hc about him everyone will dislike them lmao #but I think it adds to the tragedy of her wanting to settle down and quit this life but the narrative (me bitch!) will never allow it #(well maybe someday) #cackling you fell for the most emotionally distant man ever to walk the earth you love-starved idiot #but man she can wear a dress #gpose #astralogian #asks ; playing postmoogle

[autumnslance]

Year of the OTP - September 2023 - I Wrote This For You

("Meet the Family" has a...long draft I'm still not happy with after 2 years of Endwalker. So have some 885ish words of yearning instead.)

[A letter in nearly type-perfect cursive font, the envelope also containing a pressed white flower yet retaining its sweet scent, delivered surreptitiously via postmoogle to the top of a certain gunbreaker’s pack…]

This is not at all fair.

I toss and turn, staring into the darkened ceiling and wonder when I became so restless. So needy.

I sprawl across the mattress, too big for only myself, missing you. It’s only been hours since we parted, only last night that we held one another, but that doesn’t seem to matter.

It’s not quite an ache, but almost, and I’ve no other words to describe it, running up and down my arms, my legs. A need to be touching, to be holding—but there’s only empty air.

A very specific not-quite-heated-ache low in my abdomen, between my legs, a sensation that will not be sated except by your touch.

I roll over and bury my flushing face in a pillow.

I didn’t used to feel such things. I used to not understand what others meant when describing wants and aches and needs. It was surely an exaggeration. Hyperbole for poetry and songs.

Even when we first met, and others hurled themselves at you, insistent—even desperate—I rolled my eyes and thought they were overdoing it. Certainly, physical intimacy can be enjoyable, but so is a game of tag, or cards, or simply sitting together discussing a book. Handsome you are, but I was convinced they were playing it up to win your attention.

Then somewhere, somehow, though I didn’t mean to, along our long and winding way I fell for you. And it seemed as if my entire world shifted.

The gleam in your eyes, the crook of your smile, the gentle roughness of your hands, the steady beat of your heart in your warm chest when pulling me close. All of you is a conspiracy to rewire my every reaction.

I understand now what it means to melt after seeing the ways you look at me. You ask me to tell you what I want, voice low and rough, and the frisson it causes is not imaginary. It shivers through me now, even just imagining you leaning over my back, calloused fingers on my skin, puff of hot breath on my neck, the rumble in your voice pitched just so…

I flip over again. Still alone. 

I could never be mistaken for wanton. There’s still much I don’t understand. I still need to be coaxed and encouraged because this is all so new and a little embarrassing and a lot messy and I worry my inexperience, my need for guidance, just isn't enough to keep you.

I’ve come to realize there are times you neglect your own wants and needs to tend to mine. And while I am grateful for your attention and your patience, I need your happiness too. 

There’s my blush again, as I think about not just your happiness but your pleasure, in duet with mine. The clench of your fingers in my hair, the tension in your neck and jaw as you arch. The way you moan, or call my name.

Your pleased reactions please me. And gods, the thought of seeing, hearing, feeling them again brings a fresh wave of aching in my limbs, more heat pooling low.

I want you. I need you.

I didn’t used to feel this way.

I didn’t see you, after hours or days or weeks, and think about how much longer it will be until I can have you alone, and then in my bed. Until we’re holding, kissing, touching…

There’s so much more to us than this; after all this time, all we’ve been through together. Some days I only want to sit silently in the same room, each doing our own work or play, basking in your company, your presence in my life more than enough.

Then there are nights like this, when I realize oh no, it wasn’t hyperbole, wasn’t exaggeration. That another person, that you, can make me burn and those desires will be the most wonderful and terrifying sensations.

I miss you, though it’s barely been twelve hours since you kissed me goodbye.

And so, since I cannot sleep, here I am writing down all the ways you make me yearn.

How I am counting the time until I have you here again, wrapped in each others arms, breath catching as lips and fingers find those perfect spots we each know so well on one another’s skin, your voice rumbling in my ear, demanding I tell you what I need but it’s you, just you, moving against me, with me, in me, until we both sing.

I would never have written anything like this before you. I would never have dreamed of sending such words as a letter. But I need you to know how loving you has altered my internal chemistry, and that cannot wait until we are face to face once more.

For one thing, you know I will be too shy to say it aloud. I can see you in my mind’s eye, smiling as you imagine my blushing.

But we have ever connected over written words, so here are mine, for you to hold and read and reread and imagine me imagining you until we are together again.

#final fantasy xiv #lyn writing #lyn edits #YOTP 2023 #thancred waters #thancred x wol #wolcred #shippy nonsense #Aeryn Striker #demisexual wol still isn't sure how this happened #but she's gonna roll with it anyway

[lilbittymonster]

Ask prompts because I saw you answering one (also it was nice meeting you in EU)

.caressing the other’s cheek

Estinien exhaled in a cloud before him, the all-too-familiar spires of the Holy See cutting against the grey clouds like so many blades. A churning knot of emotions was coiled in his stomach, and he could not make heads nor tails of what they were. His boots clacked gently on the worn flagstones as he tried not to think of the last time he saw these steps.

At the edge of his vision, a familiar shade of blue leaped from parapet to spire, ever closer, before landing on the paved road. His pulse stuttered in his chest against his will at the thought of Kitali coming to greet him personally.

Get yourself under control, he snapped inwardly.

The blue of her coat stood out against the dull grey of the stone surrounding them as they walked closer to each other. Dwarfed by the sheer emptiness of the space, her presence nonetheless was overwhelming. Ever the force of nature.

Once they were within conversation's pace he called out to her, suddenly awkward.

"It's good to see-"

"If you've come on behalf of the Scions, I'm putting you back in the Sea of Clouds," Kitali snapped coldly.

Estinien pulled up short, confusion pulling his brow. Scions? What did he have to do with them?

"What's going on with the Scions?" he asked, watching her warily.

Her posture was ramrod straight, arms folded like twin shields across her torso. It may have been some time but he still knew the way her tail moved when she was hiding her emotions, the forced rhythm of its sway. The worst was her eyes, shuttered and glaring. All the more painful juxtaposed with the warmth that had overflowed them when last they saw each other.

"Are you here because Tataru sent you?" she said, ignoring his question.

Estinien snorted derisively. "Definitely not. I fulfilled my end of the bargain with her, I owe her nothing. Alphinaud had mentioned-"

Her eyes narrowed at that.

"I am here because your brother is concerned about you, Kitali. I'm not playing postmoogle to anyone," he continued sternly, taking another few steps closer.

At his words he saw the slightest drop in her shoulders. The smallest fracture in her defense.

"I'll ask you again," he said gently, "what happened?"

Her arms unfolded in a grand sweeping shrug. "What usually happens. I get called on to fight some great evil. Get told it's for the greater good, what else would it be for?" The coldness was beginning to crack under the force of her temper. "I'm given the weight of the world to carry yet again because of bloody course no one else can carry it!" She was shouting now. "I'm only ever going to be a fucking weapon, aren't I? That's all I'm good for. Killing monsters no one else wants to. Or can, for that matter. Just a tool." Her voice cracked ever so slightly on the last word.

Estinien could see tears beginning to fall. He stepped closer, and when she did not withdraw from his reach, he cupped the side of her face to brush them aside.

"You and I both know that's not true," he said firmly. “I heard about what you did back in Doma. How you stayed behind and helped the Enclave rebuild.”

She averted her gaze away, the muscles of her jaw working as though she were trying to come up with a retort.

“And I’ve seen you with Alphinaud,” he continued. “The two of you are as family, good as any bound by blood. I know for damn certain that he, at least, doesn’t see you as a tool, but as a sister.”

“It wasn’t always like that,” Kitali grumbled, but the fight had gone out of her.

"Are you just looking for a reason to stay angry, now?"

"I have plenty reason to stay angry at them," she spat, her temper resurfacing briefly.

"Such reasons preventing you from reaching out to your brother who misses you?"

At that, Kitali looked up at him searchingly. If he didn't know her so well he would've missed the brief flash of sheepishness before she closed the distance between them and buried her face into the folds of his coat, wrapping her arms around him.

"I'm so tired, Estinien," she said against him. "I'm so tired."

"I know."

Kitali relaxed into his touch a bit, heedless of the biting chill that swept across the Steps. Estinien, however, was not so ignorant, and shivered in the wind, drawing her closer.

"Where are you staying?" Estinien asked. "I should like to get out of this chill, if you aren't going to be sending me to catch my death again."

"With Aymeric, where else," she said, her reply somewhat muffled by his coat.

He bit the inside of his cheek, considering. As much as he wanted to stay near her, he wasn't ready to face Aymeric just yet.

"There's plenty of places to avoid him, if that's what you're worried about," she said tiredly, pulling back away from him again. "C'mon."

She took his hand, and he was helpless but to follow her.

Thank you for the prompt @windupsanson it has been sitting in my inbox for far too long so i'm posting it before i can agonise over it for another thirty years

#replies #windupsanson #kitali #kitali moonblade #estinien #estinien varlineau #post shadowbringers #my writing #kitali is having A Time after 5.3 #most of it Bad

[haillenarte]

white day 2020;

Here is a full translation of the (thus far) Japanese-exclusive White Day 2020 Developer’s Blog post.

First, the dry translator’s disclaimers: I acknowledge that this post is four months old. Once upon a time, I was the sort of fan translator who would have rushed to get this done within a week of its posting, but in this case, I was busy with the Ishgardian Restoration Skybuilders’ Ranking when it was first posted, and then after that... well, I just busied myself with other things. I was tempted to skip doing this one completely, but then I felt obligated to complete the series given that I’d translated the post from 2018, so... goodbye to my Saturday morning and afternoon, I suppose.

This post is intended as a polished translation on par with official content. As such, I have taken certain liberties with the text: though it was originally in more or less a script format, I embellished it to make it a prose post consistent with other English developer’s blog posts. Most of the moogle’s narration was invented by me in order to preserve humor and narrative flow. This is nothing that the localization team itself does not do. I can assure you that the core details remain essentially intact and untouched.

If you would prefer to read a more literal take on this text, I am sure that more than a few rough translations exist of it already, so please look for someone else’s post if you want something that’s more of a word-for-word take.

Special thanks to the person I trust best to write Urianger’s dialogue for helping me with Urianger’s dialogue, and then to a second good friend for Elizabethan grammar-checking the both of us!

Happy White Day, Kupo!

March 13, 2020

It’s ever so nice to speak with you again, kupo!

Do you remember me from the last report, perchance? ‘Tis I, the ever-industrious deputy postmoogle’s apprentice! The rising star that’s, ahem, still training to become a full-fledged postmoogle... kupopo...

This Valentione’s Day — like every Valentione’s Day — we postmoogles were once again entrusted with delivering confessions of love all throughout the realm. So I’m here to give you an exclusive rundown on how my deliveries unfolded, kupo!

First, I tapped into my considerable experience as an aspiring postmoogle to... erm... take care of the most difficult delivery on my list before all the rest. A-As any professional would, obviously!

...Phew!

Oh, it was such a relief that he was asleep when I dropped by, kupopo... I thought my heart was going to thump straight out of my fluffy chest! My paws might have been severed... my pom plucked...

Honestly, I was of the distinct opinion that I had done more than my fair share of the year’s work after that, kupo, but of course I tirelessly flew away to my next destination without complaint!

The second set of Valentione’s Day packages in my delivery satchel were meant for Lord Hien of Doma!

Lord Hien greeted me himself, kupo, friendly as ever. "Ah, the postmaster — right on time as always!” he said, a little breathlessly. “You have my thanks. Would you just leave your deliveries on that table so that they come to no harm?”

What harm? I was more a bit confused, but then I realized that he was in the middle of some sort of... game?

He was running around, being chased by the leader of the Buduga clan, kupo. I suppose they were in the middle of an extremely spirited game of tag! How fun! I remember when I was a young moogle playing tag with my friends, floating in circles with the wind in my whiskers... Oh, for those halcyon days! 

Daidukul received a fair bit of stuff from his admirers, too, kupo. More than Magnai, that’s for sure...

Then Isse looked at me as I was laying out everyone’s packages. “Oh, the postmoogle’s arrived?” he asked. “Um, by any chance, are you the one who delivered the year-end gifts from last time? I meant to give my thanks to the person who sent me something then...”

Of course, I told him that would be perfectly fine!

After all, even when it’s not Valentione’s Day, it’s the responsibility of a delivery moogle — or delivery person — to ensure that all the tender feelings they’ve been entrusted with reach their intended recipients. That’s why there’s no better job for me than being a postmoogle!

After my business in Doma was concluded, I flew back to Eorzea, kupo.

I’m a real go-getter — and someone really ought to tell the deputy postmoogle of my great work ethic — so I darted straight to the Black Shroud to unload my paws of all the packages I had for the people there. And what luck! As fortune would have it, I met one of my delivery targets on the road: Sanson Smyth!

“Happy Valentione’s Day, Sanson!” I chirped. “I have some very special deliveries for you and your usual companion!”

“Companion?” Sanson repeated. He sounded a little incredulous. “Er, no, that’s not quite right — it would really be more accurate to call him a vexing subordinate... Regardless, if it is Guydelot you seek, he is no doubt at his usual tavern. Would you like me to walk there with you?”

Oh, but of course I did, kupo! Sanson’s such a thoughtful, helpful man, isn’t he? It was so very nice of him to ask.

Taverns are where travelers go to rest, so they seem like such wonderful places to meet other people, kupo...

Once I’d finished with my deliveries in the Shroud, I let the cool northern winds carry me straight to Ishgard, kupo. And what change it’s gone through! The city was just bustling with the reconstruction effort!

I told Edmont (Count Edmont? Lord Edmont? So confusing!) that I’d come to deliver joyful tidings of love to everyone in House Fortemps again, kupo!

And to Ser Aymeric as well, of course!

And... well, I had a whole sack of things to give to Estinien, but just like last time, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. Since writing his name on it and leaving it by the window seemed to work last Valentione’s Day, I asked Aymeric if I should do the same this year, but... kupopo... He didn’t quite seem to approve of the idea. 

“We’ve received word from our men afield that Estinien may no longer be operating in Ishgard,” Aymeric explained, “so it may not be enough merely to leave his gifts by the nearest window and expect him to come across them.”

My pom drooped a bit at this pronouncement, kupo. After all, how was I going to deliver Estinien’s presents if even the Ishgardians couldn’t find him? Was it all hopeless, kupo?! All those packages to be returned to their senders... What a waste!

“No, well... Another report indicated some success in luring him with the scent of roasted kraken, seared by dragon’s breath. We might try that, if you’d like.”

I thought that seemed like a reasonable suggestion, but Edmont looked a little concerned. “Ser Aymeric, do you truly think — ?” he began, but then he seemed to change his mind. “...No, forget that I spoke. That being said, the restoration of the Firmament is proceeding apace, so I would exercise caution around undue use of fire...”

Well, I am nothing if not a cautious moogle, so I very carefully cooked up some delicious grilled kraken over an open fire, kupo. We postmoogles truly go above and beyond for our work!

I left his packages with the salted cephalopod as it was roasting, so I’ll bet he was thrilled to find everything set up for him!

I didn’t forget to make deliveries to this place either, kupo.

Whenever I come here, the atmosphere of the room feels so... so holy, kupo. As if the very air is clear... but empty, too. Do you know what I mean?

I cleaned up my posture before I left, kupo, and then it was off to finish the rest of the deliveries!

I had successfully shared everyone’s expressions of love with all sorts of people in Eorzea, and now it was time for... um... the impossible, kupo. You see, I still had a whole stack of especially challenging deliveries to make to the First!

We moogles have a lot of special tricks up our poms, kupo, but even I can’t possibly visit another shard without a bit of help... 

I really hadn’t the foggiest idea how to get there, so I wound up consulting the helpful folks at the Eighteenth Floor to ask them how I could get to the First!

And do you know what? They were so nice, kupo! They said that because Valentione’s Day was such a special day, and because they wanted to accommodate everyone’s heartfelt feelings, they’d let me use a special door that would take me safely to the First. Though it was not without... stipulations...

They handed me an enchanted pocket watch and said that if I failed to return before the hand on the watch made a full turn around the clock, I’d never be able to go back to Eorzea again, kupo.

Terrifying! Utterly terrifying! What other job would possibly ask you to put your existence as you know it on the line, kupo?!

But I am, as I’ve said, a professional beyond compare... so I made up my mind and zipped right through that door!

...I admit, I passed out and lost consciousness as I was traveling between the worlds, kupo. But when I came to, I was in a beautiful purple forest, and I could vaguely hear someone calling for me!

So I bounced back into the air and fluttered off to the Crystal Tower, kupo!

Naturally, the first First resident I delivered packages to was the Crystal Exarch. I had things to give him as the Crystal Exarch, and... other things to give him, too, kupo. Presents from a different time, from when he went by a different name. 

Now, I must admit, I’ve never quite understood his situation, but I did dutifully deliver his Valentione’s Day gifts each and every year! I simply wasn’t able to enter the Crystal Tower, so I would leave them at the entrance, kupo. I told him this, and then I asked him if he’d received them.

...But he didn’t answer me, kupo! He just started crying!

What was a poor moogle to do? I mean, you’ll notice our paws aren’t exactly great for wiping tears away. Had I made a terrible mistake after all? Should I not have done that?

“No,” the Exarch said, shaking his head. “No, you... you have done nothing wrong, little moogle. Forgive me. Let us move on. We must needs formulate a plan to keep you safe as you navigate this shard.“

I was very grateful to have made the acquaintance of such a cooperative colleague, kupo! With his help, I charted a path through Norvrandt that would let me finish my deliveries in time.

Next time, though, I hope I’m given a bit more time to take in the sights. I still think of those beautiful flowers in Il Mheg, and all the sights and sounds in that luxurious seaside city, Eulmore...

The Scions of the Seventh Dawn were there on some sort of business trip, I suppose, and of course they received as many gifts as ever, kupopo. I was very pleased to meet young Ryne for the first time, though!

She was delighted to meet me too, I do believe, and when I explained to her what Valentione’s Day was all about, she smiled and said, “It’s so wonderful that there are such beautiful holidays on the Source!”

“I’m sure Norvrandt will begin celebrating its own holidays before long, now that it isn’t under threat of the Light,” Thancred told her. “If you want, you can start a holiday of your own, with your friends.”

“That’s true,” Ryne giggled.

Urianger was especially pleased to see Ryne smile, kupo! Er, what was it he said again? “Pray enjoy thy gifts, to the delight of those who give thee affection.” Something like that, kupo? And also, um... “Have care lest thou shouldst cross paths with pixies and their kin, for therein lieth a penchant for mischief most troublesome.”

Yes, that was it, kupo!

Seeing everyone smile made my heart feel all warm and fuzzy too, kupo. I realize I’m always warm and fuzzy, but I mean extraordinarily so!

After ensuring that all of my packages arrived in the hands of their recipients on land, I then had to travel all the way to the bottom of the deep blue sea. It still boggles my mind that people on the First live beneath the ocean waves, kupo!

It took me some time to find someone who would respond to me, but I managed it eventually. “Why, hello there!” I said. “Yes, you, the tall fellow over there! Do you know where I might find someone by the name of Emet-Selch? I’ve a long story that I haven’t the time to tell, but to cut it all short, I have a pile of presents that I must see into his hands!”

I couldn’t quite make out the tall fellow’s face behind his mask, but I got the impression that he was smiling at me, kupo. “You are troubled, little one. Yes, I understand... If you would deliver these glad tidings to him, then let me give you a helping hand. Here.”

Poof! 

I couldn’t believe my eyes, kupo! With a snap of his fingers, the tall man made all my packages for Emet-Selch disappear into bits of light!

This wasn’t in any of the procedural manuals the deputy postmoogle made me memorize back-to-front, so I admit I might have panicked a little bit... but the tall fellow calmed me down soon enough.

“Even sweet gifts such as those you bear are only masses of aether,” he explained. “Once reduced to their base components, they will go to where he is — where all life eventually arrives. Be at ease, child. Whatever his faults in character, our lord of the dead and king of the underworld is an exceedingly clever man. No matter how vast the sea of life may be, he will surely be able to pluck his presents from the aetherial flow... supposing he desires to do so, that is.”

Now, I didn’t truly understand the finer points of this explanation, kupo... but the masked man seemed sincere about getting those gifts to Emet-Selch, so I decided to believe that he hadn’t done any harm.

I wanted to thank him for his help, but then he was gone in the blink of an eye! Even though I was in the middle of speaking with him when he vanished!

The citizens of that place are so mysterious, kupopo...

After all that was said and done, kupo, I had one final delivery to make. Just one last addressee to track down, and then I’d be finished, kupo!

And I really put my all into it. I swear upon my postmoogle’s cap and bag! I looked everywhere, every mountain high and valley low, but I simply couldn’t track him down.

The time left on my pocket watch was starting to run out, kupo, so I had to accept defeat. Disappointed, dragging my drooping pom behind me, I made my way back to the door between worlds, which already looked like it was in danger of disappearing, and leapt through the gates...

Mayhap I had cut it so close to the last second that something went wrong, kupo?

I passed out again, and when I came to, I was rolling around on an unfamiliar grassy knoll... while someone was poking at me to wake up, kupo!

What luck! What incredible luck! It was the very person I’d been searching for, for all that time, up until the very last second — Ardbert!

I almost cried and threw myself at him, I was so happy! To think that I would find him like this! “Ardbert, Ardbert!” I said, like he was an old friend. “I finally found you! I had all these presents to give you, kupo!”

He laughed and took it all in stride, though this must have been greatly puzzling to him. “What’s this? Another reward for the quest we just finished?”

“No, it’s not, kupo!” I replied, perhaps a little more crossly than I should have. “Here, this is for you! Take this, and this, and this! It’s all yours, kupo! Each package represents someone’s feelings for you, kupo! Everyone loves you so much!”

“Careful, now — oh, these look delicious!” he exclaimed, affably embarrassed as he sorted through the boxes I was admittedly pelting him with. “And this is all for me? You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, kupo! Eat them all up and have more faith in yourself, Ardbert!”

His eyes crinkled at their corners when he smiled. “Hahah! You’ve got a point. Then I’ll share these with my friends just over there. My thanks for bringing them all this way here, postmoogle. You’ve done a great job.”

...

...

I don’t quite remember what happened after that, kupo...

When I came to, I was lying on the counter of the Seventh Heaven, evidently having dozed off next to that Wandering Minstrel fellow. At first, I thought perhaps meeting Ardbert in that strange world had been nothing but a dream, but when I checked my postmoogle’s bag, I realized that it was much lighter, kupo!

So I really had met him, and I really had completed all my deliveries!

This year’s Valentione’s Day deliveries were arduous and difficult, kupo, but at the end of the day, I really did have a lot of fun. 

I delivered all of your love to everyone else, kupo... and now I’m here to deliver their love back to you!

One more time, for everyone’s sake: Happy White Day, kupo!

#ardbert #aymeric #crystal exarch #edmont #emet-selch #estinien #g'raha tia #guydelot #heavens' ward #hien #hythlodaeus #isse #ryne #sanson #solus zos galvus #thancred #urianger #zenos #white day #ffxiv #ffxiv translation

[ffxivimagines]

Commission 002 | Seafoam

Posted with permission from the commissioner! Thank you for allowing me to work with Raisa! 

There are many things that Raisa would prefer to do instead of confronting one of the many people who walked out on her in her time of greatest need. It feels ridiculous to go, barge into Limsan command, and demand that she be seen. It's not like Merlwyb wanted to give her the time of day when she was at her worst, nor would it seem that she would want to give Raisa the time of day now, even with everything settled and the Scions’ names cleared.  There is nothing much to think about while preparing to visit the Maelstrom Admiral. All there is is anxiety, filling her bones with ice in place of marrow. 

There are a great many things she would prefer to be doing, yes, but none of them would solve the problem that the Bloody Banquet had created. 

She stands before the aetheryte in Mor Dhona and wonders if she has the strength to face the person who she wants trusted as a friend and confidant. It still feels foreign to not be able to reach out so easily and take hold of the friendship that they once had. It's not something that Raisa has ever wanted to give up and yet it was wrenched from her hands all the same. Whether or not it was her fault has no bearing on the anxiety she feels. It all comes down to if Merlwyb would even want to see her. Travelling out and stressing over it would not help if she would not even be able to confront the person she so sorely seeks an apology from. 

Before she can lose her nerve she reaches out, feels for her coin purse, and allows the familiar flow of Aether to swallow her whole. Teleportation is not something she is unfamiliar with but the sensation a flowing between points and places in time always leaves her unsettled, skin too cool to the touch and nearly clammy with the last vestiges of magic from the aetheric highway between the shimmering crystal formations. She feels the telltale lightening of her purse (how her Gil was taken in precise amounts every time astounded her) and wonders where her coin had gone. It’s a better thing to focus on than the inevitable awkwardness of attempting to reconcile with someone who broke your trust and then made no move to apologize. Blinking sunlight from her eyes, Raisa decides but there is absolutely no way she is going home without an answer.

Some of the Maelstrom recruits recognize her when she passes─whether it be her bearing, her armor or the fact that she looks ready to kill a man with a piece of bread and sheet vitriol is unknown to her─and salute. She feels fake, wrapped in familiar red with a rapier at her waist. 

It’s not her color, but Merlwyb’s.

Wearing the coat she used to take pride in, she attempts to recreate the easy confidence that she had before. The stone of Limsa Lominsa is hot under the soles of her boots, baking in the coastal sun, and she feels relief when in the blessedly cool shelter of the lift. She forces nonchalance into her voice and orders, “Maelstrom command. I’ve an appointment with Admiral Bloefhiswyn.”

The slide of the lift upward is nearly enough to turn her stomach. How was she to greet her? “Hey, you sort of abandoned me to flee from Ul’dah and freeze my tail off in Coerthas. It wasn’t too enjoyable of an experience. Did I do something wrong?” It’s not like they’re on casual speaking terms as they once had been. There’s none of the space left to fill with easy chatter when each break in a letter is tense enough. 

The lift stops and Raisa feels her breath stick in her throat. She steps out. Walks the two steps to Merlwyb’s office door. Knocks. 

She waits, rocking on her heels and hoping (praying, really) that Merlwyb is not in. She doesn’t want to have come all this way for nothing, but the thought of confronting her is more devastating than the thought of possibly having been ignored. 

She knocks again. 

“Come in.”

Raisa pushes a breath out from between her teeth, hoping her anxiety will leave along with it, and opens the door. “Hey, I’m, uh, alive. Not well, but alive. Have a bell to spare?”

Merlwyb startles, surprise evident in how her eyes widen and the draw of her brow, and greets, “Raisa. It has been far too long.”

“Yes,” Raisa agrees, “it has. I’ve come for answers.” She resists the urge to keep a hand on the hilt of her rapier as if there is something she could fight instead of talking. She walks into Merlwyb’s quarters and stands before her desk. Even at her full height, Raisa feels rather short in comparison to the Roegadyn woman. Merlwyb gestures for her to sit and Raisa hesitates. 

Should she? Would it just be a way to put something between them more tangibly as estranged friends on opposite sides, or was it a cue to put down her worries and listen. Raisa decides to obey, but keeps her feet flat on the floor and weight shifted forward. She would not suffer another disgrace. 

“I expected you sooner,” Merlwyb admits. “I am not one for falsehoods, as you know, and that farce of a banquet was not of my liking as much as yours. This isn’t the time for explanations as much as it is apologies.” She stands, imposing and beautiful genuinely regretful, and bows. “Raisa Amarok, you have my greatest apologies. You were my friend and a trusted one, at that. I would hope we could have that again, granted that you choose to forgive.”

“I─” Raisa clears her throat, grimacing at the telltale crack of her voice. “And if I say yes?”

Merlwyb straightens, a wry smile playing across her lips, and replies, “We start over again.”

“Yes, then. I would… like that?” Raisa smiles back, lopsided and a little strained. 

“You look like you’ve eaten a Han lemon,” Merlwyb teases without a lick of heat. “We’ll work up to it. I have a lot to answer for─and I will answer for it, may the Seven Hells be my witnesses.”

Raisa allows her smile to drop and sighs. “This feels strange.” It’s an understatement to be sure, but better than leaving the conversation to lapse. “I did not expect you to want to see me.”

“Why would I not? You’re the most trustworthy adventurer on this side of the sea,” Merlwyb compliments, settling back into her chair and raising a brow. 

Raisa bites her tongue to keep from retorting with, “You abandoned me among enemies. I lost family because of you.” She instead mutters, “Friends don’t leave the other behind. Neither do those of the Maelstrom.”

“‘Till sea swallows all’ rings hollow to you, now, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. Yes, it does.”

They fall into silence and Raisa wants to go back and snatch those words out of the air. She wants this to work, needs it to, but the hurt is still there even after an apology and her own acceptance of it. She stands with a clatter of metal buckles against wood and says, “Make me believe it again.”

Merlwyb barks a laugh. “You have my word, Raisa. Is there aught else you’d have of me?” 

“Another date, if you’re fain to be in my company as I am in yours.”

She nods and says, “There are precious few I would consider to be as good company as you. It was… nice. That time before Cartaneau.”

“Yes,” Raisa agrees, “it was. I’ll see you soon, then.”

“Travel safe, my friend. May Llymlaean guide you well.”

The door closes behind her and Raisa blinks, takes a deep breath, and buries her face in her hands, cheeks heating at her demands. Yes, she’d heard Merlwyb had written to her with a vow to do anything to make it up to her and the Scions, but that was very different from asking for a literal date and some accountability. 

Raisa finds she doesn’t mind much when a letter comes a week later, the Postmoogle shoving it into her hands and hurrying along, addressed in coarse but legible script, “To: Raisa Amarok, my new-old-friend. From: Merlwyb Bloefhiswyn.” 

She holds the letter to her heart and smiles. 

Askbox | Ask Rules | Commissions | FFXIVWrite 2019 Fills

#Final Fantasy XIV #Final Fantasy 14 #ff xiv #ff14 #FFXIV #merlwyb bloefhiswyn #merlwyb #named warrior of light #raisa amarok #Female wol #female warrior of light #wlw #sapphic #femslash #merlwyb x wol #commission #commissions #kiriwrites #commission 002 #completed commission

[starcatcher-wulf]

Prompt #20: Cognitive Dissonance ( Bisect)

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast @trc-xiv @eorzean-capitalist

“Through the Ice and Snow, in a Land Unknown, my heart is calling out to you. Through the Ice and Snow, A little Light shall glow, it’s the love I feel for you.”

-Olympus Mons, “Through the Ice and Snow

“Shut up...” ren said as the massive slab of crystal he called a greatsword met its equal time and time again... “But I'm right, you know.” “Shut up!” he cried as he sent his sword whirling in a cruel arc only to be refuted time and time again,  the clashing and grinding of crystal reaching only his ears. Why did this have to happen now, out in the wilderness? Here he was, just reflecting over the frozen fields of the western highlands, trying to make sense of recent events. when he felt a familiar.. and unwelcome presence, an exact duplicate of himself, save for the sword, which matched his shape, but the crystal that comprised it was the sickly orange of hellfire, rather than the deep azure of the ocean deep.

Ren grunted as the latest blow sent him rolling through the snow, planting his sword into the ground to force a foothold, struggling to stand. “Atticus was right though... People always end up getting hurt for your shortcomings. even your enemies are no exception, apparently” “ENOUGH!” The backward sweep of his hand lobbed a swirling mass of inky blackness at this shade that connected with an explosion of smoky tendrils and crimson glow, causing the snow on the ground to be thrown up into a concealing cloud. Ren scanned the area. panting. Did... Did he do it? He shivered under his armor, a soul cleft in two, the half containing the self he knew fighting desperately to maintain control of this body by swinging a sword at thin air in the middle of the tundra. Then the dust cleared. He saw the figure still standing there, seemingly unfazed. Ren fell to his knees. That was everything he had. his sword shone briefly before dissipating into floating shards that sublimated to nothing. “I can’t... I'm sorry, everyone... I'm... I'm so sorry.” he said as ysengrim (Ren) approached. He cursed the irony of being spared the fate of becoming a lightwarden. only to become something much worse.

“I’m not strong enough.” he wailed to the cold grey skies, the tears dripping freely down his face, through his hair and onto the freezing ground below. his eyes were shut, he didn’t know his darkside had stopped just short.

“ I can Barely save myself, let alone protect what I claim to... I’m just a nobody.. a nameless adventurer,”

He felt the presence looming, but it remained still. all fell silent.

“Some Warrior of Light... I’m nothing.”

“You... You really believe that... Twelve be good.. you -actually- believe that.”

Ren peeked his blue eye open to see that his double standing mere feet away, his sword in the ground and his own face streaked with tears. He seemed more confused that he was even crying at all, rather than upset by it.

“You have your deeds being written down by the day. And you believe that...” He told himself. “You have the ability to sway entire nations with your words. And you believe that? At least three people have willingly DIED for you. And you BELIEVE THAT?!!!”

Ren Yelped in spite of himself as he was picked up by the collar and punched squarely in the solar plexus, then the snout, sending him sprawling and coughing as he struggled a bit to get up before being hefted to his feet once more. 

“You have People...” Another crushing blow to the chest. he knew the assailant wasn’t really there, but he could still swear he heard the snap as one of his ribs buckled, sending a flash of pain through his body.

“People who willingly spend their lives with you, and entrust them to you just as we trust them with ours.”

Ren Did his best to block what he could, but his limbs were sore with exhaustion, and each blow sent waves of pain through him as sound travels through a tuning fork. He didn’t know what hurt more, the resonance, or the words. he couldn’t shut them out.

His fight for clarity was not helped by a firm knee to his already abused sternum.

  “People that trust you with their secrets, share their joy and show you their wounds. AND YOU BELIEVE THAT!”

Ren’s rebuttal was cut off with a sickening crunch as the uppercut that sent him flying slammed his jaw shut and sent him crashing into the snow with a dull thud and a plume of powder.

He felt empty of more than just strength. he made no attempt to resist as he was pulled once again, but only to a standing position.

“ If it doesn't matter.. if you’re truly nothing...”

“Then, what are These?”

He extended his free hand outward and opened it. In his huge palm lay his soul crystal, Alfonse’s crystal of Light, the small journal Tobias had given him as a parting gift after their reunion. And resting on top of it. was his wedding ring. Ren looked at them a long while, not really saying anything. He couldn’t be blamed after all, his darkside would know everything he had to say anyway.  “You want worth? you want meaning? You need to stop looking for it in what you have lost, and rather what you still have. If you’re tired, go back home to your husband. there’s a bed waiting for you there. Lonely? Go to the guild and swap stories. Unsure of where to go? Your father has a postmoogle on standby. The Strength of a Warrior of Light isn’t so much what he stands on, Alfonse and harchefant gave you a second chance. Falx gave you a heart, Your father gave you dreams. and Atticus gave you your sense of Justice. I am the Embodiment of all those pieces, the things you want to protect. and yet you look me in the eyes and tell me that I... you.... We.. are nothing? Why are we worth so little to you?” The shade’s voice cracked. “How can you hate yourself that much? there are other warriors, yes, doing work maybe even more important than ours. But there’s only one of us.. doing the things only we can do.. isn’t that worth.. something to you?”

Ren kept his gaze down until he felt fresh tears prick his eyes as he saw that this was indeed his mind. to be confronted with his biggest flaw.. what else could he say but.

“It is.. but with every time I fail.. I find it harder to stand there had to have been something i could have done... or said. instead of just... nothing. These’s gotta be something, right? We could have done it better, right?”

“You only say that because we have more of the picture now. we didn’t back then. And even then. Alphonse would have found another way to die for you when you were stunned idle, and Atticus would have still destroyed himself trying to understand and defeat you. Things may have played out differently in time and manner, but the result would probably be the same. because they’d be willing to make that choice at some time... and any time. It’s not fair, but you can’t save everyone.. People either get their happy ending or give theirs up so another can have a shot. And how do we repay such kindness, Ren?”

“We remember them.”

“ Yes. We remember them. As we did with Alfonse, Ardbert, and Harchefant, As Unukalhai does with Regula, As Falx Does with Ysale, Urianger with Moenbryda, Lyse with Papalymo, as Nuri with Graha, and Thancred with Minfillia. And the countless others who have paved our way with their lives. Friend or Foe, we remember them. that is our burden. and ours alone, but know it not unique to us.”

“I know. You wouldn’t happen to be willing to spare me, would you?” “My purpose is to guide you... Nothing more. You’ve not denied anything I've asked of you. I have no need to steer our body. Love is enough. Hope is enough. Our existence.. is enough. I merely needed you to see that so we both may live. People love us, Ren. Maybe we should do the same.”

“Yes... Maybe we should. Let’s go home.”

#FFXIV #ffxivwrite2019 #ffxiv rp #my writing

[speciosuspoematis]

@referentblood asked: he'd planned to deliver it in person, perhaps hoping for the chance to be invited to spend time with cyvel, but things always seemed to get into his way. time was a constraint as the lord, but that didn't mean he wouldn't force time enough to make a nice treat for the poet.

he sent his head butler, his most trusted staff member, out to give it to cyvel. it would be there on time, still warm to the touch despite the chilling grip of early february's cold.

on a plate, still steaming, did the head butler hand over a nice plate of homemade & personal pies. some were savory, made with meats to fill the belly for dinner, and others were sweet with fillings of apple and berries. each pie had a little toothpick attached to a flag, telling cyvel exactly what it was, all ready and warm for his choosing.

attached to the top of the plate was a little note, folded perfectly and written on in aymeric's nigh perfect script, "happy valentione's day, cyvel. forgive me that i was not able to deliver it personally to your door, but i hope that these treats find you in happy spirits. the berry is my personal favorite. i hope to see you again soon, my friend. yours, aymeric de borel."

Warm hallways, vases of flowers and beauteously bright decor: the Lamoureaux household was one of ever welcoming stature, a homely and comfortable setting - yet it poised near constantly in silence save for the singular housekeeper of whom meandered. For some months now had it echoed bootsteps, no longer laughter or boisterous play.

Valentione's - T'was the first that lacked Guerrique's constant teasing over the breakfast table, was the first to have the absense of his father's seemingly endless dismay for the patheticism of the holiday and his sons heartfelt adoration for it. Silence. Deafening silence.

That was, until the door knocked.

For some moments did Cyvel contemplate whether to answer it or not, wondering just what someone may want with him at that time of the day - visitors unheard of - and t'was yet too early for post. At the very top of the building, it took him some moments further to pace down the heights of steps and eventually to the foyer, still hesitant to open the door.

To be handed the unexpected gift by a smart and yet entirely unfamiliar fellow was a surprise all in itself. In fact, the poet stood within the foyer of his home even after the fellow had left with a look of utter bewilderment upon his paled expression.

Into the library did he pace, finding it the more comfortable option ere placing the array down before him. A moment passed where he felt cautious - mayhap the treats were poisoned: if some of the death threats he had received upon his brothers passing were to be believed - - - despite the time between.

But No- the letter atop was what long fingers reached for first and eyes were eager to read, seeking explanation. Shoulders released no small amount of tension upon noting those words, the ache within his chest nigh nauseating as it but reminded him of the near unbearable loneliness that engulfed his every day.

This, however - the gifts and the thought spared towards him even while thousands of more importance needed addressing was perhaps what meant the most. He finds himself tearing up, reading it repeatedly, in fact - wishing he could pen a letter back to promise well being.

But he couldn't lie - not to Aymeric.

A pen and a scrap of parchment were swiftly found, ink stained fingers finding comforting familiarity in the utensil. Cyvel is but thankful that it is easy to flag down a postmoogle that day and with an offered treat or two from the kitchens does he persuade one to deliver his own short note;

"Worry not for me, for I do not doubt you've enough swelling within your consciousness without the added exertion; do take care of yourself, My Lord.

I thank you for the gifts - not in many moons have the halls of my home smelled of aught but paint and now I may sit and enjoy the beauteous aroma you've so thoughtfully sent. I find myself eager to taste in the coming hours.

Thoughtfully - that you have spared but one towards me filles my heart with a joy I cannot hope to describe with mortal instruments such as pen and ink. Know that you, too, never stray far from the plains that house mine own.

I look forward to the blessing of your company, when fate can but spare it.

-Yours, Cyvel."

[johnwaterstrike]

A Healer’s Heart (part 14)

The bump of the wagon startle him back awake.  "Sorry," John said, rubbing his eyes. Blade...Shun wave it off, giving him a smile.  "No need.  You had night patrol and then help us pack before leaving.  The story can wait." Before John could ask him to continue the story, a letter drop into his lap.  He glance up in time to see the postmoogle flying off in another direction.  He pick the letter up, holding it for a few moments.   "Howl..." "Open it, Eagle and let's here what your friend has to say." John open it and knew immediately that it wasn't Howl who wrote him.   The writing was elegant flowing cursive handwriting.  Terror well up in his mind and he knew that this was the letter telling him that Howl was...Howl was... "Read, Eagle, and breath as well," Blade said.  He had notice that John seem to think the worst was going to happen.

'Yeah,' John thought to himself.  'Read...it might be from Lady Sno...Sei, it's Sei.'  He groan, realizing that Howl had even got him calling her Snow.  He took a calming breath.  "Dear John.  Sorry for writing you so much, hope it ain't annoying you none.  It helps out here on the front to get word in from home, makes it feel less lonesome.   Hope you ain't lonely too."  He closed his eyes, thanking Thaliak for watching over his friend, his own loneliness flashing in his heart.  He so wanted them back here, now. Blade shook his head, watching the emotions flash across the miqo'te's face.  Too have so many people around him and not being able to connect.  No wonder the young eagle hadn't found his will to fly.   "John," he said. "Oh, sorry."  He glance at the letter, finding the spot he left off at. "I figured you'd want to hear all about the big battle... We took the Fifth's positions back, which is the good news, but at a pretty damn high cost in lives, which is the bad."  He smile a little, "They did it but the cost..." "It is a cost that any warrior knows they may have to pay in time." John could only let the grief wash over him, realizing the pain that Howl and must be feeling over lost comrades.  He turn his attention back to Howl's letter.  "I kinda got in bad news from Warren right before the battle - he wrote Snow and told her that he was disappointed in me not telling him about my promotion.  Sometimes I feel like I can't do right by him, you know?"  Warren and Howl fighting...no, he had to fix it.  He didn't know how but there had to be something he could do to make it better. "So I guess I threw myself into the battle harder than I should've, ended up taking a claw to the stomach at some point.  I'm having Snow write this out for me 'cause she won't let me sit up to do it myself."   The letter drop from his hand, the words burning into his mind, 'claw to the stomach'. Blade saw the shift in movement, knowing that John try and fly to the other.  He was quicker, taking one of his dagger and pining the other's jacket to the floor of the wagon.  "You are not going anywhere, Eagle." He handed the letter back.  "I'll only let you go if he actually ask for your help." John try to glare but if felt more like a pout.  He took the paper, scanning over it before relief flood.  "He's ok.  A healer already seen to him."  Even if he wasn't the one that took care of him, he was glad that Howl was alright.  "He said that he got hurt because he let his emotion get in the way of thinking." "And that is why you will remain here," Blade said, pointing to the dagger that pin his coat to the floor.  "You rush into battle and you only put yourself into danger." Bandit look back from where he was driving the wagon.  "Anything else that he said about the battle?" "It was a victory and they're able to get supplies into the city.  Still can't use the airships though." "With Dragon's in the sky," Slayer said, "airships are grounded."  His chocobo kept pace with the wagon.  "The main knights will be protecting the wards on the bridge.  If those go then..."  He spread his hands out, letting everyone mind play out to the wholesale slaughter that would take place. "He berated me for just thinking of myself as just a healer," John said, his cheeks reddening.  He pull his hat down to hide the blush as some of the others chuckle. "Just a healer my right eye," Axe said from the head of the group.  "I rather have just a healer if it means I'm going see the end of a battle." Nightingale laugh, "Need to get you to do that more often, Kid."  The Seeker lean in close too John.  "My sisters and I have never done it with a Keeper before.  What to be our Nunh for tonight?" John frown, looking up at her, realize at that moment her scent was heady in his nose.  His face turn even redder as the female lean in closer.  "I...I should...I mean write Howl...." Nightingale sat back up, throwing her head back into laughter.  "Gods, the look on your face.  Whoever beds you is going to have a good laugh?" "Ok, Kids.  That's enough picking on the new guy," Sam said.  He rod up beside the wagon, place a hand on the miqo'te shoulder.  He could feel the muscle tense under his fingers.  The ears laid low on his head and the tail wrap around his feet.  "She was just teasing, John." 'If not for my curse,' he thought, eyes scanning over the letter, 'I wouldn't mind someone getting a laugh.'  He search through his bag.   "Howl, wants me to keep writing to him."  He pulled out paper and quill and ink. "Then why don't you do so, Eagle, and I'll finish up the story." John frown.  "Why do you call me Eagle?" "Because you wish to protect and the eagle has always been a guardian of my family," Blade said.  "You write and I'll tell you the story about how the eagle came to guard our family." As he wrote, he listen to the tell of a young boy, just having learn his first weapon, setting out to try and find the siblings taken from him. The eagle that he found, injury by the same bandits that had raided his village and taken his siblings.  As the story drone on, the hand slow more, and his head drop closer to his chest. "'And why do you not fly at your enemy?' the Eagle asked.  The boy reply, 'I am just a boy and do not have graceful wings, like your.'  The eagle snorted at the boy's statement, 'I see your spirit and it is like mine.'  He lower himself to allow the boy to climb on.  'I shall be your wings then, young eagle until you remember how to...'"  A soft thud sounded and Blade look over to find John had fallen asleep again.  "If seems I'll have to finish the story for another time."  He frown at the shadows that stole across the miqo'te's face.  "What burden weights you so, Eagle, that you have given up the will to fly?" Something heavy press down on him, grounding him into the inky darkness around him.  He try to speak, try to call out but nothing came from him.  'Kit' he call in his head and hear her respond.  He turn his head a little, and saw 'her'.  She was tiny and look hyur...except for the wings on her back.  Said wings were trap in that darkness as well, one small hand reaching out for something. He turn his head, eyes widening as he realize what he was seeing.  A huge dragon standing in the distance and facing the monster was Warren and two dragons?  'No, no, get away,' he call out, fighting the hold but it only seem to tighten on him.  'Nnnnoooo!!!!" "Nnnnoooo!!!!" John scream, jerking away as hands caught him.  It took him a moment to realize where he was at.  Blade was looking at him in concern, the rest of the unit also gather around the wagon.  "I'm ok...I'm ok," he said, trying to shake off the nightmare. "Sure didn't sound ok, Kid." "Nightmare...that all."  He wave them off.  "Probably too much talk about dragons."  He needed to finish up the letter before they left Black Brush station and make for home.

#ffxivrp #johnwaterstrike #ffxiv #HealerHeart

[tsunael]

🌱

screenshot meme | accepting!!

Send 🌱 to see them in an outfit they might have worn at the beginning of their story.

#this could be considered her 'beginning' I guess #lmao doing this helped me solidify the reasoning for her murder spree actually so thank you #decided to go full lady snowblood with it #asks ; playing postmoogle #aethergazing #composition is wack but I was having trouble showing off the outfit 😩 #THANK YOU FOR SENDINGGGG #this is such a fun meme

[tsunael]

mechanical - a character put in a situation where their reactions/responses are mechanical and what is underlying that

{-sneaks along in Sea's footsteps-}

Glimpses of the past (?) | unprompted!

I don't think I reblogged this-- BUT I've been wanting to-- so thank you for sending even if it was probably a misclick.

cw for depersonalization.

Death became Garlemald’s treacherous landscape. With every frozen corpse unearthed, they must put an end to its Blasphemous cause.

Tsuna stared lifelessly toward the wooden beams that comprised a vaulted Garlean ceiling, awoken by the sound of raucous speaking in the other room. Such makeshift barracks were made of one of the only buildings left structurally sound in Garlemald, yet the nearly-shattered window did whistle as a kettle once the frigid air slammed against it. Tsuna did not stir, nor weep, but her skin began to crawl like vilekin over festering flesh.

The itch would not cease. She scratched, and scratched, but still she felt that man’s filth inside her, rotting her from the inside and out. Her body was her own again and yet it was as if that man's aether had left an indelible mark.

If she had been any slower, her friends would have been red mist on the snows, slaughtered by her own hand—

No, not her own. It was, and it wasn’t.

No matter the rationalisation, her mind’s eye would not stop its visions. What if he had massacred them, too? Would she then be charged with making a lichyard for her friends once more? What if she had been bound forever inside that corpse?

Tsuna shrouded herself in her thin duvet, and quickly stumbled from bed to escape her own head.

Amidst the low chattering, she distinctly heard the words 'Babil' and 'tonight' from beyond the door to her makeshift room. She braved to crack it, and found the Scions parked upon crates and broken chairs , crowded around a ceruleum heater, nursing mugs full of something hot and warmly spiced. Mulled tea from Ul'dah. A reminder of home.

Her arrival was enough to silence whatever conversation they were having, and turn their heads. Immediately, she regretted her impulsiveness, feeling as if she had just walked on stage unprepared.

"Take me with you," she said, though her voice was too weak to carry the boldness of her words.

The group exchanged cursory looks, most simply turned their noses to their laps.

Alphinaud was the first to speak up. "Tsuna, while I'm... I'm gladdened to see you awake, I really don't think..." His voice trailed off, unsure and tepid, as if his normal charismatic self had been blind-sighted by the demand.

"You're in no position to be going anywhere," Y'shtola smoothly interjected.

Tsuna wrapped herself tighter, stepping further out into the room.

"You're in no position to be telling me where to go." The flatline of her voice begged no argument, though it did wonders in drawing Y'shtola's ire. The Miqo'te's ears drew back, and she knew at once that she was simmering beneath-- if looks could kill she would have been dead in several exciting ways already.

Someone among them cleared his throat loud enough to put a wedge between them. Thancred stepped forward with intent to corral her back to her room.

He rounded her as if she were an animal, and she felt her back hit the wall in order to avoid touching him. She couldn't touch anyone.

"I'm going tonight," Tsuna asserted, quietly, ignoring how the wool of her duvet began to itch.

Thancred looked away briefly to avoid rolling his eyes. "You're going back to bed. Sleep is in short supply these days. Best catch it while you--"

"Do you think you can stop me!?"

He paused, annoyed.

"I do."

She wanted to be angry, furious. She wanted to raise her hand against him. She chewed her lip, reaching out with one hand to angrily grab at his collar, only to retract it. Her face twitched, briefly twisting in rage at the injustice, but fear for the sudden violence that compelled her doused her flame, and she had no desire to rekindle it. Tsuna's arms fell to her sides, letting the duvet pool around feet that she barely recognized as her own.

He watched her with a curious expression that could only be described as sympathetic.

"Let's get you back to bed."

#asks ; playing postmoogle #thefreelanceangel #I frankenstein'd an old drabble i wrote for this #I don't really think this fits but I couldn't think of anything else 🙈 #my writing (derogatory) #girl what happened to my read more

[tsunael]

Yotsuyu!

describe your OC's feelings/relationship to an NPC.

Ohhh man Yotsuyu.

So, if I may go off on one before I actually answer the question... Yotsuyu was my favorite character before I played XIV. I remember seeing her illustration and went 'HER. I WANT HER.'

If you couldn't tell-- I have a type... lmao. Tsuna and her ended up looking really similar but ONLY because I based Tsuna on Yuko xxxHolic... and then they ended up having similar backstories, too but it wasn't intentional 😭 Even their names... Tsuyu... Tsuna... fuck.

SO ANYWAY it just kind of evolved into them being two sides of the same coin. Stormblood was a expansion for thematic foils for sure, but Yotsuyu is 100% Tsuna's.

Tsuna is an Au Ra with hang-ups regarding Hyur and Garlean alike. She was also a child who got sold into indentured servitude-- her saving grace was that it was to an okiya and not a brothel. She's a Raen! She's the sun! She embraces love!

Tsuna also condemns the Garleans for subjugating her people, and wants revenge for her family. Yotsuyu would work with the enemy to get back at her family. Listen, it just works. I didn't design it that way.

I mentioned before that the two of them are perfect foils and that's why.

What is their relationship, though? I will definitely have more on this when I get to Stormblood on my ng+ run, but for now I'll say it's in the same vein as my answer for Fordola. The only difference being is Tsuna sees herself in Yotsuyu, and that scares her more than anything Zenos could do.

Yotsuyu, however, sees her as nothing but an obstacle, and maybe there's potential for her to exhibit jealousy as well. After all, they were cut from the same cloth so why did Tsuna become what she did, while Yotsuyu was forced to crawl through the mud. 'What makes you so special' kind of thing. The answer is love, I suppose.

No matter what Yotsuyu did, I don't think Tsuna could forgive her for willingly siding with the Garleans. She displaced thousands of innocents for her own personal vendetta. Tsuna considers the people of Yanxia to be her people.

I still have yet to decide if they would have met previously in the story considering they would have both lived in the pleasure districts for most of their youth. It's undetermined where Yotsuyu's brothel was located but I'm assuming it would have been Yanxia before she razed it.

I also want a little bit of ho yay for them if I'm to be perfectly, unabashedly honest. They should be rivals. The Seifer to Tsuna's Squall. I just think Yotsuyu should tilt her chin up and blow smoke in her face. You know. You feel me? You get me?

That scene with Gosetsu in Namai... [clenches fist] it should have been Tsuna...

ANYWAY UM. THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS THAT THEY HATE EACH OTHER.

#asks ; playing postmoogle #sasslett #I can't answer on what Tsuna thinks about Hien's infamous decision because it's been too long for me to remember #but yehah. hi i love yotsuyu #lore; weaving a story

[tsunael]

Tsuna -

Thancred

Urianger

Jullus

Tataru

describe your OC's feelings/relationship to an NPC.

WHOA THAT'S SO MANY. Huge post incoming lmao.

You probably didn't mean the first one like this but...

What does she think about herself?

So, her opinion of herself lessens over time. She is tempered from a life of entertaining strangers, of becoming a living work of art, and that involves living in a world of putting on a mask every day. At first she's proud of herself and her status, and being appreciated for her beauty make living in a Hyuran-dominated space feel validating. She worked hard to get to where she is-- especially in a caste-system like Kugane's.

Her only goal is to earn her keep at the okiya, and to gain a patron (a danna) in order to repay her debts so that she can retire and look for her father in Thavnair. This, of course, doesn't quite happen the way she envisioned.

There's a clear moment she starts taking on guilt and it begins when she first killed a Garlean soldier and is forced to flee the country. I think the guilt just compounds from there until she feels she is undesirable and unclean for the things she's done. Eventually she will have to take measure of her worth, and pit them against the traditional Raen morals of her upbringing: does the good she has done outweigh the lives she has taken? Is it peace if it was written in blood?

Thancred.

Sweats. Well, for starts, he's one of the few that aren't eager to lick her boots simply because of her power and she has always appreciated that about him. He sees her as she is, and she has always appreciated that about him-- what she doesn't know is it's because he sees himself in her.

Their relationship is rocky though, and to be clear it's always been full of highs and lows. He humours her lack of experience as an adventurer because Minfilia takes a liking to her, but at the same time he also sees Tsuna as a potential conquest, which she repeatedly rebukes. His cocktail of emotions spill over in 3.2 that really sours their relationship until SHB proper (5.0?).

What does she think of him, though? He's refreshing, frustratingly dry-witted, incorrigible, and sympathetic. She also knows he could love so deeply if he just allowed himself to be loved in return.

Urianger.

Amiable at first. Another Eorzean who speaks in a strange bastardization of the common tongue, and so she often has difficulty understanding both his speech and his allegiances. Once, he gifted her a book on Sharlayan astrology after expressing an interest in conjury, and though she never gained a knack for it, she has kept the deck of cards ever since.

It made his subsequent betrayals hurt worse, however. He broke her trust not once, but twice. After the events at Gulg she has found him nothing but shady-- a complete enigma even after she had thought she finally knew him. Even though he does what he does with a heavy heart and good intentions, they tend to invite the worst kinds of trouble.

I haven't a clue what this relationship could be called but it is friendly. He has no ill-will towards her, and never has, and neither does she. She definitely finds him mesmerizing to look at, though. I suppose she keeps a wide berth from him if she can help it, simply because her trust is not something so easily won back.

Jullus.

Ouch. Oof. Rough. Similar to themes I mention in my Fordola question, Tsuna has prejudices against the Garlean people whether they be military personnel or civilians and I consider this a flaw she needs to overcome. Learning of Arenvald's heritage did much to distil her initial prejudices, however, Jullus and her are (at first) a hair's breadth from knocking heads.

(As a personal aside, having just finished the island sanctuary quests yesterday I was actually wondering at the time about how uncomfortable Tsuna might have been while breaking bread with all those Garleans lmao.)

I do think she softens on them as a people, and subsequently Jullus, but it takes time. Jullus, himself is meant to represent them as a whole to the player imo. There are just too many layers preventing her from seeing him as a person when he is such a product of his environment. I wouldn't doubt if he kept his mistrust of her as well.

TATARU !!

They are best friends for certain. Tataru lives for her stories, and has a great time accompanying Tsuna whenever she can. Tataru has a real adventurous heart and she definitely lives vicariously through her in that way. Aside from that, their relationship is full of gossip over tea and all that-- mostly Tataru doing the spilling. I think Tsuna does really well with Ul'dahns extroverts that are really forward lmao.

Minfilia isn't around anymore and I imagine Tataru gets very lonely without her best friend. Tsuna will never be a replacement for that relationship, but I think Tataru appreciates her presence.

Also as a personal observation, though it doesn't have anything to do with their relationship per se, the last Tataru quest ended up being very thematic for Tsuna and I was losing my mind over it. The worries of diaspora losing their culture, the guilt of feeling that you're not doing more for your people, and then it all culminating in recreating Tataru's mother's heirloom. (Tsuna keeps her own mother's wedding ring with her and it's an important part of her story.) I just found it all very fitting for the two of them!

Also, Tataru definitely sewed her a dress for her date dinner with Aymeric, and would do so again. She's the kind of friend that's like 'I'm going to make you look so smoking hot this guy loses his religion over you'.

#asks ; playing postmoogle #thefreelanceangel #lore; weaving a story #thanks for sending! #ain't nobody gonna read all this but it was fun to put down

[tsunael]

control - for the random word generator prompt! (WHACKS you back with the dodgeball, wow.)

Random Word | no longer accepting because I'm dead via dodgeball

She just had to control it.

As a budding white mage, the Padjals of Gridania had bid her to bare her heart to the forest-- it was the only way the Elementals would accept her as the outsider that she was. Her pale horns may fool a layman, but they did nothing to help her convene with that which could not be seen.

And if she could not even bend her aether to ask the waters to yield her, then how could she possibly pray for its respect?

For too many times to count she had stepped out from the river's bank that day only for her foot to breach the water's surface-- just as the Gods intended. What she was trying to do went against all natural order, but in her hubris she aimed to bend the water to her will, to support her, to guide her feet. The Kojin had blessed her mother's bloodline, surely the Elementals could sense her affinity with it?

Her bare feet were wet with mud from her failures, and she worried overmuch about the pure, white raiment that Raya-O had blessed for her becoming filthy. Too many thoughts swirling about-- she must needs clear her mind.

Tsuna heaved a steadying breath, and cradled A-Towa-Cant's relic fast within her arms.

Softly, aether began to coalesce once more inside her chest-- warm and pulsing, fluttering as a bird in her rib's cage. A voice bid her draw her hands out in front of her as she slowly willed the energy lower: to her stomach, legs, and finally to her soles. The warmth was allowed to flow through her, and she invited the ambient aether around her inside. The breeze picked up, ruffling her skirts about, and suddenly she felt as light as the air itself. Water began to lap at her ankles, washing away the mud of her mistakes, as if it were beckoning her to it.

She just had to control it.

Slowly, she stepped out from the bank, and to her pleasure the water's surface did not break. It held her weight as she took more, cursory steps forward until she stood at the center of the drink. She had done it.

Thyrus floated in front of her like a stalwart guard as she put her hands together in prayer.

She asked the spirits for guidance. She asked them for acceptance.

And finally, she asked them for power.

Despite all her attempts she had never been a healer. People are hurt, and die for the Scion's cause, and then she is left in a room full of silence. And she never wished to feel that void again.

#asks ; playing postmoogle #gatheredfates #I did a misclick and I blocked you by mistake IT WAS AN ACCIDENT IM SORRY DJKFDGHK #THANK YOU FOR SENDING #AAAAAAAA #my writing (derogatory) #reminds me of my rp days when i would just write off the seat of my pants and it never makes any sense wahoo

[tsunael]

Send 👀 to see them in something that would make people stop and stare.

screenshot meme | accepting!!

#so glad I'm not an elezen enjoyer because this height difference makes me wheeze laugh #me: teehee what if she goes to an ishgardian masquerade after EW!!!! #realizing that if she were to dance with him she'd only be navel-height and it would look ridiculous: #YES SHE'S WEARING HEELS 😭 #anyway this is from my self indulgent embarassing garbage involving a love triangle that's been percolating in my braincage for half a year #thanks for sending!! #asks ; playing postmoogle #oh-yeah-no #gpose

[tsunael]

Sunset

you are wistful goodbyes and unspoken promises. you are warmth and comfort for others. but sometimes you give so much of yourself that it leaves you cold inside. it's bittersweet, offering other people the care and affection you crave for yourself as well, but you wouldn't do any less if it means the people you love are content. you're very grounded, but you long for things you can't quite name-- perhaps a time when your heart was full and your spirit free.

from: what sky are you? • tagged by: @icehearts !! omg thank you 🥺 • tagging: @aethermimic & viewers like you.

#lore; weaving a story #asks ; playing postmoogle #we're just gonna use that tag #anyway this uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh hurt a lil bit #and most of the people i was gonna tag were tagged already. please consider yourself tagged if you read this

[tsunael]

for the word generator prompt - Lie!

Fray was right, of course. Fray had always been right. Only when she renounced everything was she free to do anything. She could leave it behind─ all of it. The Scions. The Alliance.

Even Hydaelyn.

All she had to do was ask, and he would set her free.

She feels as if she’d been in a torpor. With so much lost, she could barely recognize what she had gained. And still, she rotted in this forsaken place that hated her as much as she hated it. Coerthas. She prayed for the day she never saw snow again.

White. Everywhere was White. White snow, white stone, white moon, white skin, white hair, a white eye.

Someone else’s blood coated her hands and warmed them against the cold before they froze over. Fray would be most unhappy that she took such a detour before their promised rendezvous. Yet another service of hers offered, with nothing given in return.

There were knights speaking over her, she realized, half-expecting it was simply mindless praise, but their words made little sense.

“… Certain… allegations have been made, sir. It would seem that she was observed conversing with… with a corpse. In the Brume.” The untiring knight’s voice wavered at the mere mention. “Not that anyone would ever believe such slander, of course…” he added, weakly.

Another voice. The one she arrived with, spoke for her. “Surely there is no need for concern. I mean, ‘conversing with a corpse’? What fools do they take us for?”

Tsuna worked a smile for that. He was right. What a ridiculous notion. She reaped corpses, but did not make a habit of speaking to them.

“I should warn you, mistress, that some of these allegations were made by Temple Knights. You, um… you may be asked to surrender your weapon…”

Surrender her weapon? Tsuna looked down at her bloodied hands, and the large bastard sword that suddenly manifested within them. Its weight felt crushing.

“After what happened in Ul'dah? They must be mad.” Fray– the singular man she had come to meet– stepped from behind her, seemingly out from the aether. “Pay attention, Tsuna. This could be the greatest moment of our life…”

They would kill them together, then. That familiar, welling of violence shot through her-- the self-preservation was paramount to all. She would not be put into a cage.

Though, to her surprise he did not stand with her. Instead, he barred her path, lifting a singular finger to aim at her heart. The moment his aim struck true, she felt an indelible pressure growing fast within her chest.

“That is, if you could stop denying the truth that's been staring you in the face since the moment we met.”

The truth. She winced as a pain, more acute than any vision the Echo could bring, roiled through her skull. The truth.

She withered at his feet, crying out sharply against the wind. The pain was much too much-- it would break her. She didn’t want the truth. She wanted gentle lies– she wanted them to tell her that it would all be okay if she just tried harder.

“Say my name,” Fray bellowed. “Say it. My real name. Our real name!”

And whose face did he bare, when he finally took off the mask?

Fray lifted his helm, and below it was a proud, Elezen knight with kind eyes and stark white hair. He was the corpse she left, but that wasn’t right. That wasn’t him.

Fray lifted his helm. Below it was a blonde woman, her hair put up in braids. She didn’t blame her for what she couldn’t do, but they would never see each other again. That wasn’t it, either. That wasn’t him.

A man who was free to say and do the things you would not.

Fray lifted his helm. A man coldly stared back. She would know his whiskey-brown eyes from anywhere, for she resented how they drank her in and stripped her bare. She resented him. That wasn’t him.

…Even now, you continue to deny it. Well. Deny me all you want. You cannot deny what we have done.

Fray lifted his helm. Black hair spilled forth over his shoulders like ink welling on a page. Curled, Auri horns proudly greeted her as Fray cradled the helm in his arms. It was her mother.

Her once-blue eyes were replaced with smoking voids that threatened to swallow her entire face in an unnatural pox. She was full of holes; her face blurred at the edges like watercolour. She couldn’t remember. She couldn’t remember her kind mother’s face.

Have I not been good to you? Have I not given you everything I promised?

“Stop!” Tsuna finally managed to cry out. Her throat felt raw, and her jaw ached from overuse. It felt as if she had been screaming for her life. “Gods– Stop, please. Enough!”

“Did I not help you to hear the whispers of our very soul!?” Fray moved closer. His body towered over her, cutting a stark figure against the white backdrop. He stooped to her level where she had fallen to her knees, and picked up her chin with a singular finger.

“Open your eyes. Look,” he ordered. “Do you see now?” He asked, softer, gentler. “Do you see?”

The pain in her head had moved southwind to burn a hole into her breast, as if her own heart had set itself aflame square between her ribs, and fanned itself with every breath. Weakly, she lifted her head, to stare into the abyss.

The Fray who stared back was not him. It was a woman– her own sickly pallor, and red, red lips greeted her with a smile.

#we use gratuitous game dialogue in this house to save time and energy #big content warning if you are sensitive to dark themes #I can't say what those themes are because I don't even know what I wrote #asks ; playing postmoogle #idalenn #my writing (derogatory) #does this fit the theme also?????? uhhhhhhhhhhh not really!!!!!!!! #ANYWAY THIS IS OLD THANK YOU for sending