#but i think elidibus suits her better

[xshrimpcake]

Pandaemonium/Rhine

#i would draw centaur-form saria if i still had my xiv sub #but alas i do not #so you'll only get her gorgon form #originally was going to draw mumu as hegemone #but i think elidibus suits her better #arknights #FFXIV

[feralkwe]

Character asks: for Thancred, 25 and 8. And 25 for Elidibus as well.

yay! i love doing these! you've poked the stick in the great places here! this got very long, lol, so under a cut it goes!

thancred. my pathetic wet cat. my try-hard disaster bab. my unexpected third leg of my ot3.

8. what's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

i can't think of any trend that i see that really irritates me, though part of that may be the corners of fandom i have tucked myself into. he has a lot of layers that i was too stubborn to acknowledge until well into the better part of shb, and i think sometimes fandom isn't forgiving enough after his growth arc, but honestly i'm really not too fussed because i think he skates through on hot white boy appeal in fandom at large. i think it's possible to appreciate where he started, where he wound up, and how he got there without excusing his many mistakes, but i also think it's important to talk about how he worked through it. so that's my answer: i think fandom is either too easy on him or too hard on him with no room for nuance. i keep saying i'm going to write an essay, but idk if thancred needs me to defend him. maybe someday i'll go feral and do it anyway.

25. what was your first impression of this character? how about now?

god i cannot stress enough how much i gave absolutely zero shits about him when i first met him. even given what happens with lahabrea, i wasn't really moved. he screamed 'bland white-haired jrpg protagonist' to me and i only cared because for some reason which wasn't clear to me until i read the short stories, minfilia gave a lot of shits about him, actually. and i adore her. i didn't care about his angst in hw, though he grew more personality and by the end of sb i at least went from indifferent to 'fine, i guess he's here, too'. then, like many people, i spent a good deal of shb utterly pissed off at him until it became obvious to me that he was, despite what i think a lot of people believe, trying his best while drowning in an ocean of trauma with almost no tools to handle it. by this time i'd read his short story content, and understood the context better. i was very ride or die for urianger from arr on, and yamisnuffles teased me that he 'comes with a husband' and i was determined to refuse. i couldn't tell you the exact moment, but sometime around going to the moon i suddenly gave a shit enough to select him as the scion who visits you in your suite at the baldesion annex. and, well, fuck off. i discovered i cared a lot, actually.

now i have a pathetic wet cat in my ot3. i affectionately call the eden raids 'kit's family camping trip'.

same question for elidibus. my ultimate angry murder and get murdered husband.

i have to start by saying that the ascians as villains compel me more than almost any villains in any media i've ever consumed. even accounting for recency bias, they utterly fascinate me, and i don't know if i've ever been so moved by villain motivations. the unsundered specifically strike me as so tragic that it makes me feral. even lahabrea, who i really find difficult to like. but that's retrospect after the entire arc of their part in ffxiv. after lahabrea and nabriales, elidibus came in with a different approach, and that intrigued me. of course i had no idea the larger role he'd play later, but the way he attempted to stand on a moral high ground really hit some buttons. again, i was really into urianger from the get-go, and their apparent partnership gave me a lot of OH NOES to latch onto. i think elidibus is the character that allowed me to really give emet-selch consideration beyond 'my bestie loves him' because he gave me an inclination that there was more to the ascians than had been revealed so far.

he piqued my interest, then enraged me because of ardbert, but the more i learned about his past along the way the more invested i became. the shb patches slowly killed me, and by the end of seat of sacrifice i was sobbing for him. he's just a little guy fighting for the all but forgotten souls of his people. he was pivotal in saving the world, driven to madness by it, and in the end, all alone as the last of the unsundered. yet there are characters within the narrative who lie about him and his motivations. i'm choking up a bit right now thinking about it.

suffice to say pandaemonium rewired my dna and entire brain. by the end of it i was devastated and so in love with him as a character it's almost embarrassing. he was kind, thoughtful, and gave of himself wholly to what he believed in. his connection to wol is so beautifully bookended by it, and the ways he winds himself with them throughout the entirety of the game just hits every character button i have. the very tragic wol/elidibus ship with kit wrote itself in my head from the moment you drop into elpis. i spent a lot of time wondering how he got from the careful man we meet to zodiark and beyond, which is what compelled me to write to the edge (and back again). now i kill him at least three times a week. it's fine. i'm fine. i'm very normal about the unsundered, and most normal about elidibus.

thanks for the asks! what a delight to get to talk about these guys!

#ask box memes #from the annals of my askholebox #theemperorsfeather #fandom asks #b plays ffxiv

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

First impression of each other? Was it love at first sight? Your choice, whoever has the best answer!

Ahh! Thank you! I answered for well five of them……I got carried away…..But the main three are first so! Thank you for asking! We got two ancient ships below so depending how much you want to avoid spoilers of any kind please keep that in mind though there isn't anything that is spoilery.

Demos and Yugiri

Demos was quite taken with the fact that this woman traveled so far from her home in a place she was not familiar with and with people that needed refuge, he admired her for the bravery and courage. He especially did, and reminded her as such, when she mentioned how it was in the middle of battle that she and the others got out, and on the days where she felt guilty and like she could have done more. She found Demos to be so quiet and humble, and she liked how attentive he was to things when there were some people that were better suited for work outside of Mor Dhona, finding them a place within the Shroud mostly.

It wasn’t love at first sight for either of them and feelings didn’t really start to develop until HW and she’d go to check up on him since he was less likely to give any indication on how he was holding up.

Hythlodaeus and Anthea

Thea was honestly very smitten with the man and found him to be very muse/inspiration inducing (which was a scary thing since their creations had a habit of going wrong) but they found him to be very open and patient and just soft. Hyth had an idea of who Anthea was based on records before ever meeting them in person, from the records he came to a conclusion that they had a passion and must have garnered quite a few people in their circle considering how many times they were cited on other creations, but he couldn’t understand how the ratio of archived ideas to actual creations that moved past the idea stage was so skewed to being more ideas. When bumping into them in person he absolutely took notice of their soul and felt a kind of ease when seeing it.

I wouldn’t say it was a love at first sight for either of them, more of a “I want this person to stay because their presence makes me feel some extra alive”. Not complete or whole and Anthea would argue and say he did make them feel alive again but really they did that all their own he just held a hand out.

Siberite and Thancred

Oh boy these two had such vastly different first impressions of the other. To start Thancred always knew she was a high born Lady and while there was some optimism for her being capable, it was quickly squashed as he watched Sib fail over and over again. He brought up such concerns when Minfilia said that they just needed to find her and then bring her into the fold, a letter was to be sent to her mother stating that she’s alive and well but refused to go with them and ran off. Frankly he truly just was so off put by her presentation of herself (truly just like think of Elle Woods and it’s the same thing) that he just didn’t look past it even after she was able to prove herself fighting that voidsent. He just was worried they would be having to slow down their efforts because she needed to be taken care of. Sib on the other hand found him rude, uncouth, and handsome and that wasn’t fair. He was too sarcastic for her liking, gave unsolicited advice in saying she needed a better defense strategy than just “hit it until it dies” and she felt looked down upon for not fitting the mold of just what an adventurer should look like. She just also found it rude that he looked like he was about ready to leave her lying in the dirt after she passed out.

It wasn’t love at first sight for either of them. At most it was lust at first sight. They both found the other attractive but there were some bad first impressions to get past. It took a bit of time for both to start coming around to the idea of there being more between them.

Constantinos and Elidibus

Conner’s first impression of this man was someone that easy enough to talk to that he ended up accidentally ranting about Emet-Selch and working for him because it was just one of those days you know? The white robes didn’t really sink in until he had finished and felt bad because he was only supposed to be delivering some paperwork…..he also handed them off to the wrong person so frankly he was just glad to see that this man didn’t look at him with negative emotions or confusion, just simply thoughtful and attentive in hearing what Conner had to say. He was taken in by his eyes though and it was all over for him. Elidibus for his part found him interesting as Conner approached him as if he was just someone like himself and not as Elidibus, though understandable seeing as he was still new to the role. He noted that many of the complaints he had in regards to Emet weren’t based in malice as if he was a bad person but someone that was working close to someone that was similar in personality, showing that while he could get emotional it wasn’t irrational and clearly not often to come out as it did. He also apologized and humbled himself with mannerisms that made him laugh a little. And it cultivated into an attraction to Conner.

It wasn’t love at first sight and there was an avoidance between the two to start, mostly Conner because my god that was so cringe and embarrassing. While feelings on Elidibus’ end were kept at a distance including the attraction to Conner.

Carly and Zenos

These two met while a training session was happening and he was tasked with having to pick a small group of people to act as a sort of guard and those to run legions for him. She piqued his interest in how despite being good enough to have a higher military ranking she never took one on, opting to instead keep to the ground and training on her own terms, she also wasn't letting many others get past her and still going strong despite being at it for the last 5hrs. Of course he had to put this woman to the test and she impressed him despite her being beaten, she just kept coming at him and would have had Stasia not called it. Carly frankly was curious as to why one of the potential princes took an interest in her (though also why wouldn't he take an interest?) but she's got a thing for tall men and he called for a fight between them. While she was upset that she "lost", she was entranced by the spark in his eyes that came out while they were at each other's throats. She did work hard after that to win him over and become his right had until the end of her days.

This one I would more consider a love at first sight kind of deal. It was a spark or attraction that was reciprocated and the words "I love you" were never uttered between them in their time together. They just both kind of knew they were meant to be when they really got to see one another in that fight.

#apologies I didn't mean to write the main 5 but like its fun! #anyway thank you for the ask! #x: lover you are pure light #x: of the land and sea #x: the battle you pine for #x: as long as you exist #x: moonlight serenade #endwalker spoilers #ish just in case

[ofdragonsdeep]

Lost Together

As the Scions move against the Warring Triad, Ar'telan finds an unusual visitor.

(m!WoLxElidibus)

There were not many places that Ar’telan had been where the ground could be said to hum. Far fewer where the sky itself seemed sick, the heavy residue of corrupted aether making every breath taste like oil. Outside was yellow and fetid, inside was cold metal and bright lights and strange machines that refused to acknowledge that he even existed.

There was nowhere on Azys Lla that he felt safe.

The anti-eikon expedition had pitched an uncertain camp at the Flagship, the biggest of the great metal beasts that cut through the floating landscape like knives. The most of their expedition was the people who understood the ins and outs of Allag’s wiles - Krile to work the machines, Unukalhai to tell them of the eikons, Urianger to lend his particular brand of expertise. Ar’telan was there, as he so often was, to be the sword that sent the eikons back into the aether they had been created from, and little else.

None had asked him yet how he felt about it.

The creaking, scraping metal noises had driven him from the main bulkhead on the Flagship long before a course of action had been decided upon. Below them, the mired Gration hummed in the air like a stalking cat, the threat of Garlean incursion ever-present. The only reason they had not crossed swords already was because, for one brief moment, their aims aligned. Fell the Eikons. Kill gods. It was supposed to be his specialty.

Lily flitted nervously beside his head as his feet took him across the metal boards of the sky-ship. If the sky normally hung over him like a spectre, today it fair smothered him, but it was still preferable to that stifling room with its beeping nodes and artificial lights. How could the Allagans ever have been at peace with such creations?

They hadn’t. The ceaseless hunger that had swallowed his homeland, so long ago, could prove that well enough.

He wound his careful way around the sphinxes, now attacking any who came near, Lily lingering by him all the while. He had half a mind to retreat to Helix, for all it was the same array of cold metal and colder light, if only because it was the furthest he could get from the damnable humming without fleeing the island chain entirely. He was halfway to whistling to his chocobo, in fact, when he saw a flash of movement, oddly natural for the mechanical nature of the place. A soft smear of white against a pale yellow sky. It couldn’t be Urianger, cocooned as he was within their camp, but…

A hurried pace took Ar’telan across the breadth of the Flagship, his booted feet making the metal ring with every step of passage. Lily fluttered behind him, a delicate hand raised to her face in concern as her wings thrummed to keep up. It took every ounce of mental strength he had not to think of the yawning void below him, that same swallowing yellow as the clouds above. To think of dying in such a foreign sky. He was safe, he was safe, he was safe-

“I had wondered if you might find me here. The wanderer’s footsteps suit you, Warrior of Light.”

“Elidibus.”

His voice, soft and deep, had none of the concern and anxiety that spiked in Ar’telan’s heart for being in Azys Lla. What was there to fear, when death could not claim you? He had his back to Ar’telan still, gazing down at the Delta Quadrant so far below them, but as Ar’telan took another uncertain step towards him, he turned.

“Are you so hostile to all those you greet?” he asked, a faint smile lingering around the lines of his face as he noted the wary hand, held close to a sword. It took conscious effort for Ar’telan to relax his posture, so close to the edge of the ship and the wound of the sky, but with careful breaths he managed an imitation of calm. It would be trivial for a man like Elidibus to see through it, of course, but the Ascian at least had the grace to pretend. “This place ill-fits you. If I did not know better, I would expect you to flee at any moment.”

“You don’t belong here either,” Ar;telan replied. Elidibus considered that, head tilted to one side in thought.

“Perhaps not. This place is anathema to all which lives, even we Ascians,” he allowed. “That is why you are here, is it not? Vengeance, perhaps. Or simple duty.” The smile returned. “Do you know which?”

“The end result is the same. Does it matter?” Ar’telan said. He tried not to let the surprise show - that Elidibus had remembered his origins, something so fleeting and mortal of him. That he had cared to connect them to this. That he knew enough to do so at all.

Unukalhai…

“Reason is what separates man from beast,” Elidibus responded. From her place perched atop Ar’telan’s head, Lily glared daggers at the space where Elidibus stood, able to perceive his aether and little else. “Still, I will not keep you in a place you so despise. If you wish to trade words instead of scaring me from your haunt, I imagine there is a more pleasant venue.” Ar’telan grimaced. He had walked all across the island chain when he had first come here, fuelled by anger and terror and grief, and none of its nooks and crannies had seemed more welcoming than any other. Even when the Allagans had controlled the sickening hellscape, he found it hard to believe they had focussed on decadence. 

“If you have suggestions, I will hear them,” he allowed. Elidibus sighed, turning once more to cast his gaze across the rocks.

“I know little of this place, I confess. It was others of our number who dealt with Allag, especially in the Empire’s dying days.” He frowned, raising one hand as if to test the wind. What little light filtered down through the cloud of smog glittered on the metal bones of his glove. “Hmm. This place sports all manner of rooms, barely any safe for someone of your mortal constitution. What did they call them… ‘habitation modules’, I believe. Those will do.” He glanced back at Ar’telan, and the scowling fairy at his back. “If you are amenable, of course. I would not want to keep you from your most important work.” Ar’telan fought the urge to glower, knowing Elidibus would read it as a childish pout.

“So long as you do not take me to the Garleans,” he allowed, which got a chuckle from Elidibus.

“Not unless I wanted them dead, no,” he agreed. A gloved hand was extended with delicate grace. “The choice is yours, Warrior of Light.”

Just like it always was. His choice. His mistake. His consequence.

Still, he took the offered hand.

—

The Habitation Modules were, as the name implied, efficient before they were comfortable. The lights did not work, which Elidibus fixed without a word as soon as they arrived. Metal desks, metal tables, metal chairs, metal walls. The light was only saved from the oppressive strip-lighting of the Flagship from the aetheric motes Elidibus set drifting within it, flickering softly as if to imitate a candle.

“Efficiency at the expense of beauty. The tragedy of Allag,” Elidibus said, an oddly wistful note to his voice. Ar’telan poked at one of the chairs, expecting a cloud of dust, but whatever had sealed the place shut had apparently prevented any such disturbance from forming at all. It felt so artificially dead.

“Not the leagues of dead they left in their wake?” Ar’telan replied, irritation bristling at the comment. Lily dived down to grab his tail as it flicked from side to side in time with his distaste.

“It is regrettable that sacrifice is required for progress,” Elidibus said, before pausing, shaking his head. “Forgive me. No doubt I seem callous.”

“Seem,” Ar’telan repeated, letting the sharp movement of his hands say all that needed to be said of his opinion. The Ascian did not even need to look at his signs to hear his words - the Echo blessed him with the sound of it regardless - but still he watched, out of some sense of courtesy. Ar’telan appreciated it, though he did not voice that thought aloud.

“And what of you, then? Putting the gods of your people to the sword. Is that not progress?” Elidibus said, voice still placid and level. Ar’telan pulled the chair out from under the table with a sharp scrape of metal and settled upon it like a wary predator that knew another was hunting it.

“They are not Meracydia’s gods,” he replied. “Not in truth. Just as the Bahamut tha tAllag sealed within Dalamud was not the Dawn Wyrm. You know that. Is that not why you sent Unukalhai?” The corners of Elidibus’s mouth quirked up into a smile.

“Naught escapes your astute gaze, I see,” he said, nodding his head in agreement. “Yes. Gorged upon millenia of suffering as they are, the Eikons contained here pose a threat to the star. I deemed it prudent for those of a more heroic bent to deal with it.”

“No sense in conquering a barren rock?” Ar’telan replied. A glimmer of irritation flickered on the Ascian’s face then, what little of it he could see. Fitting payment for his words so far.

“We do not aim to conquer. This I have told you. When our work is complete, there will be no need to do so,” he said. “You need not fret. It will be countless mortal lifetimes yet before we see the fruition of our plans.” 

“Meracydia still remembers,” Ar’telan disagreed. Elidibus made a thoughtful noise, tapping one finger against his face in thought. He moved so little and showed far less, but Ar’telan could imagine him frowning behind his mask. He had seen Elidibus’s eyes, once, a brilliant turquoise, but they were lost in the shadows of his mask like so much else. The Ascians loved their masks - even when he had held Thancred in his thrall, Lahabrea had summoned that dreadful glyph to hide his face when the moment called for it. 

“It is strange for me to think on,” Elidibus confessed. “A memory from a time none could ever have lived through, preserved with such crystal-clear clarity. It is… it is akin to my own people, except…”

“Your people?” Ar’telan asked. Elidibus was quiet for a long time at the question. The silence hung in the air between them, Ar’telan keeping Lily back with a gentle movement when she moved to disturb the reverie.

“...I do not recall it fully,” Elidibus confessed. The words were heavy, mustered with great effort from the ache within him, and Ar’telan felt the weigh tin every word. “I remember… row upon row of records, transcribed in crystal. Soft-lit archives that held history. The… The rooms dedicated to the details of my station, and all who held it before me.” He sighed, a soft and wistful noise. “But it is like the glass is scratched. I cannot see more. It has been so long since then.”

“How long?” Ar’telan asked, but Elidibus shook his head.

“The time is meaningless, in truth. If it had been yesterday I would not hold the memory,” he replied. “Emet-Selch would remember, if he cared to tell me, but I see no need to concern him when history will be ours again in due time.” A single, reckless thought prompted Ar’telan to tell Elidibus of the dragons, of the broods which kept their vigil, leaderless and kin-less as it was. But Bahamut was dead, and Tiamat entombed alive upon the screeching rock they lingered on, and all because of them. The Ascians. 

It was not about mortality. If it had been, they would have embraced the dragons, immortal as they were. Not shunned them, used them, broken them upon the altar of their god.

So what is it that you want? How much is your history worth?

“The quiet does not suit you,” Elidibus remarked. Ar’telan made an uncertain noise, trying to relax against the metal he sat upon.

“There is nothing I can offer you that I haven’t already,” he said, and Elidibus made a sound that Ar’telan could only hear as mournful.

“Yes. This I know,” he agreed, walking over to him. The rustle of his robes, normally so quiet, nevertheless seemed loud in the void of silence that surrounded them. No maddening hum, no churning propellors, no life at all but the two of them - and of that pitiful offering, only one of them truly breathed. “But it is… It is compelling to consider. To dream. To offer you eternity.”

“I do not want your immortality,” Ar’telan said. Elidibus knew. They had had this discussion so many times before, with every new occurrence, every shift in the balance between them. He would always ask, and Ar’telan would refuse him. Always. 

“Then…” Elidibus said, reaching a hand down to trace across the contours of his face. “One mortal moment, perhaps.”

And like so many other times, this he could not refuse.

#wondroustailsofffxiv #ff14 #warrior of light (solo story) #I do plan to write about the trial series in general and the impact it has on my WoL as a Meracydian #but now is not the time nor the venue #Though Elidibus himself has many thoughts on the matter as well

[potassium-pilot]

Prompt 20: Petrichor

I’m in over my head, he thought, I know nothing of the Convocation other than what I learned in school; my creations seem so minimal compared to the Emet-Selch; they’re all taller than I am- I know height has nothing to do with it, but it’s still intimidating. Am I truly worthy of the seat of Elidibus? Am I really the Emissary?

“Do you smell that, young Elidibus?”

He turned his head behind him and noticed a woman. One of the members of the Convocation he met, but which one?

“Y-you’re…the Azem, is that correct?”

“I am, just like you are the brand new Elidibus. Now, do you smell that?”

Elidibus stared down at his lunch that he chose to eat outside on the steps at the back of the Bureau. “Oh…if the scent of my lunch offends, I apologize…”

“Your lunch neither offends my senses, nor is it what I’m referring to, Elidibus. We’ve had a dry period for some time, have we not?”

The weather was far from his mind, but he answered, “Yes, I…think so. Why?” Azem sat down next to the young one and replied with yet another question, “Have you ever noticed that scent that comes before rain after it hasn’t rained for so long?”

Why is she asking me this, he thought. Is this a test? “Uh…no, not really.”

“Hm. You should, young one. One of the gods put in quite a bit of work into making the rain as pleasant as possible. It adds a spice to life to notice the small things.”

He gathered a strange first impression of the Azem, but decided to take a whiff of the air, try to gather what she means. To his surprise, there was indeed a difference. “It’s…sort of earthy…”

“You’re right. It’s a pleasant smell to me, although some have their preferences.”

Elidibus took a moment and asked, “Is this some advice for how to deal with the Convocation?” Azem chuckled with her mouth closed, then responded, “No, friend, I’m just making conversation. You seemed so nervous in there.” Never had he felt more grateful for his red mask as he blushed at the thought that someone would notice such a thing. “The first day is odd, isn’t it?” she asked him.

“I don’t know about odd…but I must admit, I feel a bit…” he didn’t want to finish, but the phrase he was avoiding was ‘out of place”.

“Wanna know a secret about the Emet-Selch?”

That piqued his curiosity. “Uh…will that be all right?”

“Sure, so long as you keep it between the three of us.” Elidibus nodded at the agreement. He watched a wry smile form on the Convocation member’s face. “He’s a sucker for strawberry candy, and he bugs me to bring some home every time I leave Amaurot on my missions.”

His eyes widened at the thought. “Really?” She nodded. “He’ll deny it, but he’s obsessed with it.” Elidibus made a thoughtful hum. “Now what do you like?”

“Me?” he pointed to himself.

“Is there someone else here?”

“N-no…I…” he felt confused as to why she would care, making him hesitate. “I…I like that one concept, that card game…”

“Ah, you’re a gambling man. I see… you and I will need to play one night. I’ll show you some of the cheap tactics I picked up on my travels. You can help me clean out my friend, Hythlodaeus.”

The young man smiled. “What of you, Azem?” She smiled back. “I love to dance. When the Emet-Selch, Hythlodaeus and I go to the park, Hythlodaeus always takes me to see the musicians nearby, and I drag him into dancing when the Emet-Selch inevitably runs to avoid it. There’s another secret for you to keep.” Elidibus chuckled slightly.

“Ah, finally, a laugh.”

“S-sorry…”

“Nothing to be sorry for; I just like knowing that you’re capable of letting loose for a bit.”

He nodded. There was a moment of silence before he asked her, “Azem, is there anything I should know about the Convocation?”

“That we’re all flying by the seat of our pants.”

He stammered at that remark. “I-I beg your pardon?”

“My young friend, confidence is key to being a member of the Convocation. Quite frankly, there’s something new everyday, and it’s impossible to create a real standard for how we handle things. We have our protocol, but as much as they complain about me skirting it, they have also conveniently avoided protocol themselves.”

“But-but we’re supposed to lead our people, keep our society thriving…”

“If that’s how you keep looking at it, you’ll be that nervous every single day for the rest of your tenure.”

He blinked.

“Yes, we’re leaders, and we do, in fact, lead, but there’s no trick to being a Convocation member. There is simply being one. Bring ideas to the floor, engage in debate, do your reports and other paperwork, and go home. You’ll feel much more fulfilled at the end of the day if you remove the unnecessary pressure.”

He contemplated her words.

“The next time we go to the floor, I have an idea about revamping the concept submission process, make it more streamlined for easier processing. Could I…ask for your support, Azem?”

She pretended to ponder, then told him, “Tell you what; I’ll support it…if you can beat me at a game of cards.”

“What?!” he exclaimed in disbelief.

“Those are my terms. Do you accept them?”

“Is that…that can’t be protocol!”

“It’s not, but I should tell you how the Lahabrea got me to support his idea to reconstruct the Akadaemia Anyder.”

BOOM

The thunderclap roared over the Bureau of the Architect, and the rain slowly followed suit.

“Seems like a good time to play in my office, don’t you think?”

He still felt befuddled by the idea that any one of the Convocation of Fourteen should be anything close to him. That they were anything like him felt foreign. They’re leaders of Amaurot, creation masters; how could they be as clueless as the Azem claims them to be?

“Or would you prefer to sit alone in the rain? Because I will be returning inside to listen and watch it from the comfort of my dry and warm office with my meal. I would be pleased for the company, but I will leave that decision to you, young Elidibus.”

She stood up and as she said she would, she turned around and walked inside the Bureau. Elidibus sat there for a moment, realizing just how little he liked to get wet, but still wasn’t sure what to think. Finally, he rose from the stairs himself, and opened the door to return inside himself.

He walked down the halls to locate her office, passing each door, trying to see if there were any that he could peek through, but many were closed. Lahabrea…Igeyorhm…Nabriales…Emet-Selch… and last, but not least, Azem, the only open door. Before young Elidibus could enter, he heard a voice behind him.

“Ah, good afternoon, Elidibus. Were you hoping to speak with me?”

Emet-Selch approached him from behind. Elidibus turned to meet his gaze, despite being hidden behind a white mask, and answered, “Oh, no sir. I was hoping to speak with Azem. She invited me to lunch in her office.”

“Did she now?” he asked with a hint of curiosity in his voice. He took his shoulder and told him, “Come.” The two entered her office together, the Emet-Selch clearing his throat to get her attention. It worked, but she didn’t pry her gaze from the window.

“Hades, use your words”, she teased.

“Helios, are you corrupting this young man?”

That got her attention enough to turn around. Indeed, the young Elidibus stood at his side, a shoulder in the Emet-Selch’s right hand. “He informed me you asked him to lunch with you in here.”

“Oh, Hades, there’s nothing to corrupt. He’s quite stalwart for someone so young.”

“What has she told you, young man?” Before he could answer, she piped in with a teasing, “Nothing of import. Certainly not about how you beg me for strawberry candy when I leave the city.” Hades gasped and stumbled his words, “I-you-guh-I most certainly do not!”

“Uh-huh” she taunted, “Nor how you try to bring home near every stray cat you meet.”

“I would never bring such a pest into our home!”

“Right, now what will you tell Locus when we get home? She’ll be just the saddest cat we’ve ever had.”

He growled, shot his gaze to Elidibus and told him, “Everything she tells you is an absolute lie.”

“Only when it’s convenient for me to be telling the truth will he say I’m telling it, or so I’ve noticed.”

“Helios, you’re impossible!”

“I love you too. Now you better not have eaten lunch without me. I’ll excuse dear Elidibus here, but you?”

“I would never. Come, Elidibus, take a seat.” The young man nodded and took one of two seats in front of Azem’s desk.

“Um, Azem, when did you want to play that card game?” Elidibus asked meekly.

“Ah!” She pulled out a deck of cards and answered, “I’d like to finish my meal, then we can get started.”

“You’re not teaching him that ridiculous card game.”

Helios shook her head at her beloved, “I don’t have to. Why, he told me himself he loves card games.”

“Do you?” Emet-Selch asked the new member incredulously. “Uh, yes, sir, I do.” Realizing how this could be taken, he blurted out, “I-I don’t usually play it when I’m working, but-but I was asked to play with her for a work reason.”

“Oh dear…” Emet-Selch rubbed his temples and asked, “I think I know what she’s doing. All right, young one, what did you want to bring to the floor?”

Something within him sparked. That such a powerful creator could possibly listen to someone like him made him feel so honored. “Well, sir, if I may, there’s been many complaints about the process for submitting a concept, and I had an idea for how to streamline it, make it easier for employees to process submissions, and if you’ll hear me out, I think we can make it work”, Elidibus rambled excitedly.

“Hm”, Emet-Selch thoughtfully hummed, “You are correct that many do have trouble with their concepts being input. Long wait lines, a filing system that needs updating…not a bad idea.” He turned his head towards Azem and asked, “But why are you making him play cards for this?”

“I need to see him play now that he’s told me he likes this game. Besides, he may have your support, but I still have my terms.”

“Such are the dealings of our Azem; you truly wish her to be your role model, young man?”

“Role model? I’m simply his coworker.”

“Well, I’m glad you would deny the mantle. It might be better for someone who actually performs his duties to teach him the ropes.”

“Ha! I do my job well, thank you. It’s just not pencil-pushing.”

Emet-Selch shook his head. “Whatever will we do with you?”

“The better one is ‘what will you do without me?’”

“Work, probably.”

She scoffed at him, and told Elidibus, “I’m ready for that game now.”

“Deal me in as well.”

“My stars, Hades- you would play cards at work?”

“We’re not exactly working now, are we?”

A smile formed on her lips as she shuffled the deck. “Not quite. Don’t worry about him, Elidibus, it’s just me you’ll need to beat, not that it’s hard to beat our Emet-Selch at cards.”

“Hmph, slander, my love.”

The three played a good round. Azem gave him a run for his money, but he ultimately succeeded in the end, and received her full support for his proposal. Not that it mattered; she would have supported him anyways, but she enjoyed seeing the young man go from the nervous wreck he started his day as to a more relaxed version of himself, one that realized he was among peers, and not masters.

“There, he won. Are you happy, Helios?” Hades asked annoyedly.

“Quite. Thank you for a good game, my young friend” Azem complimented.

“Now come, Elidibus; it’ll be better for us to discuss this without her influence.” Hades stood up and walked out of her office to go next door. Elidibus stood up, ready to follow him as he requested, but then stopped. Without turning around, he asked her, “Would it be all right if I came back to eat with you tomorrow?”

She grinned. “My friend, anytime I’m in Amaurot, you’re more than welcome here. I’d rather you here than outside in the rain.”

He smiled and said, “Thank you.” Elidibus walked out of her office and moved himself from her office to the Emet-Selch’s.

The day went by without much clamor, then Elidibus gathered his things and left the office for the day. As he walked outside, the humidity left from the rain slicked his skin. It felt sticky, not his favorite sensation. Then he remembered the conversation from his lunch with Azem.

He took a deep breath, and embraced the earthy scent that blessed the city of Amaurot.

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #ffxiv #emet-selch x azem #emet-selch & elidibus #azem & elidibus #ffxiv fanfiction #fanfiction #fic #elidibus is baby and you can’t convince me otherwise #azem #elidibus #emet-selch

[thecat-inthehat]

2. Aberrant

Sorry this one’s a bit late, I could not think of a good prompt for the life of me. And then this one ended up being so much longer than I thought.

Anyways, the best known way to make a cat like you is to bribe it with treats. Or previously inaccessible laboratories.

(1574 words) [Masterpost]

--

The door whooshed open, letting out a small cloud of air that had been trapped in the room for some time. The lights started to blink on one by one as they flickered to life with soft red glows, casting the two miqo’te into gentle relief. 

“Finally, I’ve been trying to get this lab open for ages,” the woman said, stepping into the room and adjusting her hat so she could get a better look. “Apparently this was the personal lab of one Stygian Osseous, the primary researcher for the Warring Triad restraints, who then went on to work on the Dalamud project.” 

“Ah, I see,” the man said softly, looking around the room with interest. “And being of such high rank, his room would be closed off to everyone save for the royal family.” 

“After we found Owen’s node and laboratory, I knew there had to be other places that were blocked off,” Nive muttered, starting to flip on switches for more lights to pop on. “I kept finding references to his work while I was digging into the Triad’s restraints on the upper decks of the Flagship, but every time I was confronted with passwords and nodes that tried to fire lasers at me.” 

“So this is why you kitnapped me,” G’raha said with some amusement, his luminous red eyes crinkling at her. “I see, I’m just a key for you to get into nooks and crannies you probably shouldn’t.”

Nive paused for a moment and think it over, only to chuckle. “Yeah, pretty much. Sorry, I don’t like you much at all, Exarch. But this is going a long way to endearing me to you.” 

G’raha blinked at the title, and wondered if it was intentional or not. Truthfully he and the woman were acquaintances at best -- he hadn’t endeared himself to her during his tenure as the Crystal Exarch, and now that they were back on the Source, he hadn’t seen much of her. It was strange, really. She was family-by-proxy, since she was Shining’s sister, but she had had little and less to say to him other than deriding his intelligence or asking a few questions about the Tower. 

Admittedly he wasn’t on her level. She was extremely intelligent, and had an encylopedia’s worth of knowledge stuffed into her grimoires or her head. She knew more about aether patterns and primals than he probably ever would, as well as the sheer math that was required in her chosen profession of being a Summoner. He wasn’t a slouch, having gotten his own archon mark and a century’s worth of experience governing a city, but she was on a different tier entirely. He tried not to take it personally. 

Nive started walking through the lab, carefully noting down things in her grimoire before she went to move various switches or open cabinets. It was a methodical sort of note taking that he had seen before on countless occasions, and he wondered how many books she went through on the weekly. The Ironworks had many of her books saved and used as references, and he had torn through many of them while he was with the group. There were dozens that were piled into the library, but based on what he had seen in the last few months of knowing her, at least a good seventy percent had been lost to time. The historian in him ached to try and figure out pieces that were missing, to study her books and gain some sort of knowledge. 

But here he was, watching the living legend spray herself with ink as the quill nib broke. She spluttered and coughed, then grumbled and yanked another quill out from the feather on her hat--so that’s why she wore the damn thing--and continued writing, heedless of the ink on her cheeks. History was learned and not lived indeed. 

“G’raha, can you--pleh--turn on that light over there?” She asked, pointing to where a switch sat, next to a containment chamber. The man laughed softly at her but did as bid, going to flip on one of the switches. The containment chamber lit up, and he had to stifle a yelp of surprise. 

It was filled with a sort of fluid, and floating inside sat a Lamia specimen staring at him. He jumped back, but the eyes of the creature did not follow him -- and he caught a glance at the vital signs. Dead. 

“I thought this man worked on the containment moons?” G’raha heard himself ask, trying to get his heart under control. 

“He did, why--Oh!” Nive said, coming up to the containment chamber and looking it over. She instantly went to the panel on the side, starting to read the information. “It looks like it was deceased before the Calamity, and he was storing this one for research.” 

“Why a singular Lamia specimen…?” G’raha asked, frowning at it. It looked a bit different compared to most Lamia he had seen, but even he understood what five thousand years in an isolated area could do to a species. 

“I’m not sure…” Nive murmured, and tapped on one of the display panels. Holographic text started to float across the screen, and she started reading aloud. “‘One of the youngest of the batch showed strange genealogy today, well outside the norm. She developed speech and her petrification powers quicker than the others, but seemed to know things she shouldn’t have.’ The next entry… hm. ‘The containment suite for the Lamias was in shreds today. The advanced specimen had killed the rest of her clutchmates, and was playing with the petrified head of one of her victims.’”

“... That’s disturbing.” G’raha said flatly. 

“Quite.” Nive muttered, and went to flip over the last few pages. The text scrawled across the screen, and G’raha could see several dates flip past. “‘After some research, I have determined that she has the aberration known as the Echo. How a simple creature as a Lamia could have it, I know not. The tests unfortunately killed her, but I have stored her body in my lab for further analysis. But with Dis asking me to work on the Dalamud project, I doubt I’ll have the time to truly study what I want. I can’t refuse him though…’ It trails off here, and there’s no other entries.” 

“It seems this man had more to him than even you knew,” he murmured, looking up at the specimen again. “... The Echo though…” 

“It’s been observed in non-spoken, but we have extremely little data on it,” Nive said, making another note in her grimoire. “We don’t know exactly how it works, and Mikoto hasn’t been able to get back to me on what she’s observed in Bozja. We know that it exists, but not to what degree or frequency.” 

“Do we even have those numbers on the Spoken?” G’raha asked, tilting his head. “With the recent resurgence of primals, it seems pertinent…” 

“Admittedly not enough data for my tastes, but out of the sample sizes we’ve found, the Echo can be found in approximately point-zero-five percent of the population, with numbers in Eorzea skewing slightly higher to point-zero-seven.” Nive said, scribbling on her notes. “It’s actually a lot higher than we thought. For a long time, Helisent and I were under the impression that the Echo and the Blessing of Light were congruent, until Midgardsormr proved otherwise. It turns out that theoretically anyone with the Echo can become a Warrior of Light, but those that do are far in between. And, in theory, someone without the Echo could be Blessed.” 

“... And then you have situations such as Elidibus in the First, forcibly awakening the Echo within the population,” G’raha murmured. “Artificially inflating the numbers. Except… Is it truly artificial when we have confirmation that it’s almost all artificial?” 

Nive asked softly, placing a claw on the glass of the containment unit. She stared up at the corpse of the Lamia, tapping her finger in thought. “If Hydaelyn simply chooses to awaken more of them when she needs, has there ever been a point where the Echo has awoken naturally? But… then that doesn’t explain how the Ascians have the Echo. Or what it even is…” 

“The more I think about it, the more the Echo being called an ‘aberration’ seems more and more apt,” G’raha admitted softly. He had witnessed the starshower, and had seen many of his beloved citizens have a gleam of understanding in their eye, of hearing something that was beyond his ken. It scared him, more than a little. 

“Maybe we can find some more information on it in the Triad’s files… But I doubt it.” Nive murmured. “At the least, it’s more information than we had.” 

“So I did well, then?” He asked with a laugh, and felt his stomach flip slightly. He didn’t want to sound so eager to please, but … She was Shining’s sister. He at least wanted to try and get along with her, or maybe be friendly. 

Nive grinned toothily at him, baring her fangs. “Court’s still out on the final verdict, but I think you’ve got good chances. As long as you keep opening doors like that, I think we’ve got a good relationship forming.” 

“Ah, I see, it’s all based around how I can serve you,” he snarked, and was unable to hide the grin from his face. “Maybe you should be the princess of the Allagan line then.”

#ffxivwrite2021 #G'raha Tia #Nivelth Ajuyn #Allag #Stygian Osseous #Creator Writes #The Daedalus Project #The Echo #i am desperate for rates on the echo #what percentage of the population has it #are there any 'beast tribes' that have it #logically they SHOULD but who knows

[allycryz]

Nerys Eluned: Canon Jobs

Background

Nerys spent her childhood with a community of Duskwight in the South Shroud until she was twelve. Her parents moved first to the Central Shroud, later to the East. Prior to ARR, she had never left the Shroud.

Her father handled her academic education with a bent towards reading and history. Her mother took on the more practical subjects: how to hunt, forage, stay out of trouble; where the Duskwight could move freely and where they should avoid. 

There were always chores and odd jobs for children, especially needed when they left the relative safety net of The Cavern in the South. By her fifteenth nameday, this turned into steady work. She excelled in mostly physical jobs for merchants, farms, and outposts.

Nerys off-and-on entertained the idea of becoming a soldier, but never felt called enough to take steps. Once she reached her 20s, she had two main goals: make enough gil to live and to have fun when she wasn’t working. Nerys broke up her share of bar fights and dealt with fending bandits off merchant caravans, so again the idea of being a soldier or Adventurer came up.

The catalyst is a rough break-up that also ends a lot of her friendships. It is not that becoming an adventurer is a solution to any of the problems she faced. But in the wake of this big change, she took a long look at everything and decided she wanted something new. That leads her to Gridania and the Lancer’s Guild.

Disciple of War and Magic

Lancer/Dragoon

Meta Note

FFXIV is my first MMORPG. Prior, I have always been primarily a “solo play on my own at my own pace” kinda gal. But my friend said it was really fun and I love the FF franchise, so there I went. I wasn’t sure what class to do, was thinking Fighter until I learned it was a tank class. 

My only other major online game experience was Overwatch where I was a Lucio main. That was a rarity for me: I tend to have a tougher time with caster/support classes and prefer playing as a rogue or sniper in most games. As rogue wasn’t an option, I asked my friend what she thought and she suggested Dragoon.

There were three options in Gridania: Conjurer, Archer, Lancer. Although Nerys later tried her hand at the other two, Lancer appealed her as someone who wasn’t afraid to get into the thick of things. 

She ended up taking well to it and her fellow guild members. The guild was very much “here are a few techniques, go out there and figure it out” which matched up with her way of doing things.

Nerys is still processing everything that happened with Foulques of the Mist; angry with his choices while also understanding what he went through as a fellow Duskwight. It is a bit of a relief when Alberic becomes her new mentor and she can get away from everything. Not to mention: Coerthas is a place she has always wanted to go to. Her father’s lessons included their sweeping history as well as their poetry and stories. 

Of course, things go sideways almost immediately. The Eye chooses her as the second Azure Dragoon and her first encounter with Estinien is anything but friendly. Things settle on that front for awhile and her primary concerns become the Primals and Garlemald. And having a small foothold in Coerthas is a boon when she, Cid, and Alphinaud travel there in search of the airship.

When Estinien suggest they partner together, she is hesitant given their previous encounters but feels drawn to help him. She agrees. That all comes crashing down after Nidhogg reveals to Estinien how Alberic’s actions lead to the loss of his family. Nerys has to step in to fend him off. The next time she sees him is in the Intercessory with Aymeric. Though he assures her he is not there to fight, she is on her guard.

She never expects that Ishgard will become the place she calls home. Nor that she and Estinien will become friends and then something more, eventually becoming lovers after he rescues her from Elidibus-Zenos. But it does and they do, and even when they both give up the title of Azure Dragoon, she feels called to protect and serve her adopted homeland. For the sake of the Fortemps and Aymeric and Lucia and Hilda and Ysayle, but also for people like Alberic, Estinien, and Heustienne who made her the warrior she is today.

Note About Armor: Nerys has her preferred aesthetics and the traditional Dragoon armor doesn’t quite fit. She prefers her own style and her concession is armor that pays tribute to the heritage of the position without being an exact copy (pictured, not her only armor set in canon or meta-wise).

That said, she is aware of when statements need to be made. Nerys isn’t a political creature in the way Aymeric and Alphinaud are but she understands that politics are a part of everything. 

For certain missions and meetings she garbs herself in the traditional manner: needing to remind the Alliance of her strong ties to Ishgard, making the Heaven’s Ward realise how badly they erred in imprisoning Aymeric when both Azure Dragoons show up.

Meta Note: 

Once I got to Level 15, I joined...all the Guilds in Gridania. And for a while worked on leveling Archer, Conjurer, and Rogue while also making progress with Lancer/Dragoon and MSQ. Eventually I switched gears because I wasn’t progressing fast enough in the story and focused almost exclusively on Dragoon. 

For story purposes, Rogue doesn’t quite fit into Nerys’ story though I think Thancred has definitely introduced her to that crew.

Archer

Archer never quite suited Nerys, as someone who prefers to get close to the action. She does have a great deal of respect for her fellow guild members and Lewin; and she remembers what she learned when ranged combat is needed.

Conjurer

Nerys’ aether control as a Dragoon is excellent. But for whatever reason, she could not quite translate those skills to conjury.

She kept on for some time because in her mind, a good warrior would have healing skills at her disposal. Eventually, a conversation with E-Sumi-Yan brought her to accept that she might better serve others in a different way.

What she did gain was an affinity for the element of air, likely tied to her role as a Lancer/Dragoon. This becomes vital when she saves Haurchefant at The Vault, although it does not go as well as she would have liked.

(She also had a foray with the Arcanist’s Guild that was about as long as Tataru’s.)

Meta Note: 

Disciple of Hand/Land: I have levels unlocked in all the DoH/DoL, the following four make the most canon sense and are the ones I have progressed in the most. 

That said, canonically she dabbles in everything because she is naturally curious and wants to be self-sufficient in all things. Most of the guilds know her. The following four know her the best and it’s where most of her focus has gone.

Disciple of the Land

Botanist

Nerys was drawn to the Botanists’ Guild because of her upbringing. She knew much of the Shroud and its treasures already. What she found–as she became an adventurer–was that these skills help immensely on the road.

It’s also a centering profession. Nerys needs activity to bring her out of her own mind, especially as responsibilities and dangers pile on. She can go lose herself in nature, either for her own needs or on commission (and often both).

Having grown up foraging ingredients to cook with, her Botanist career also ties into Culinarian role.

Disciple of the Hand

Culnarian

Nerys grew up cooking alongside her mother, so she had a base of knowledge going into the guild. Still, through Lyngsath and the rest she discovers a whole world of new ingredients, recipes, and techniques.

As a hunter and a Botanist, there is no end to the new ingredients she find to experiment with.

Leatherworker

Nerys fell into leatherworking when she was scoping out all the guilds in Gridania (around the time she took up with the Archers and Conjurers).  

It stuck for a few reasons: the resources were fairly easy to come by from her hunts; it is another centering activity; and she is a bit of a clotheshorse. If she has to wear specific gear as a Dragoon, she can add her own pretty details to the leather pieces.

Weaver

This is a culmination of the other jobs: uses resources from other things she does (botany, hunting, and leatherworking), a craft that pulls all her focus into one thing, and satisfies her clotheshorse desires. She knows she can put pretty details into her everyday armor/gear and make more formal clothes that make her feel good.

(Whenever she is dealing with A Thing, she will get her hair done. Of course she needs clothes that work with the new look, even if it’s a temporary updo.)

When it comes to leatherworking and weaving, there a plus to taking guild commissions: it has to be perfect and meticulous and good quality but it is not on the level of say...if you fail this task, a primal will temper all these innocents. Nerys is drawn to help people but it's nice to do that for something that is not saving the world. (Of course when she makes any type of armor or working clothes, she is sure to make them well so they protect the wearer.)

She is not advanced enough to make her own gowns for formal events held by the city-states or the Ishgardian High Houses. One day she would like to be able to do so. Until then, Eorzea has plenty of dressmakers ready to help.

Outfit Note: I ended up choosing a mix of the Scion and Best Man’s clothing, thinking of how you can never go wrong with a suit. It’s crisp, always in style, and she looks great in it! 

#nerys eluned #duskwight elezen #duskwight warrior of light #elezen #dragoon warrior of light #ffxiv #dragoon #botanist #weaver #leatherworker #culinarian #long post #ally writes

[sparrowwritings]

The Ever “Delightful” Consequences of Friendship

Ao3 Link

"He could tolerate quite a lot from his more carefree friends, but stupidity--particularly stupidity that he'd done his best to prevent--was far more than enough to set him off."

Emet-Selch is more than happy to welcome his friend into the Convocation of Fourteen as Azem. It's a role well earned, despite lingering doubts and a disappointed twin.

Too bad said friend means to action on them, even though he explicitly advised against it.

This can only go well, clearly.

Co-credit for this idea (and one of the characters) goes to @thedovahcat

“Oh. Hey. What’re you doing here?”

“Offering both congratulations and condolences. I take it the news didn’t sit well with her?”

“With either of us, to be honest…”

“Then I suppose it’s good that I brought two well fermented bottles.”

“...Are you sure you’re not the concept of perfection in person form?”

“Please. Flattery will only get you so far, particularly now that you’re part of the Convocation.”

“Ah. Right. That. Guess we’ll see each other a lot more, huh?”

“Our roles have some overlap, yes, but even if they didn’t you’d find the time to annoy me regardless of your position. You just don’t get the benefit of team effort to do so.”

“Heh, that’s true...”

“...I’m not supposed to inform you about the selection process, but I can say that it was a close thing. Both of you were equally qualified, but there is only one seat. You being selected does not mean she is less talented. You might recall that when I was appointed, Hythlodaeus was also just as if not more qualified for the seat.”

“I know, I know...still, it just doesn’t sit well with me.”

“You’ll get over it once you’ve officially taken on your duties. You’ll be able to leave the city more often, help more people, etcetera. Everything you already enjoy doing. Feelings fade, duty doesn’t.”

“I’m this close to taking back your status as the concept of perfection.”

“I’m dreadfully devastated.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“I ought to get Hythlodaeus to come over. He’d help us find a way around this.”

“He would suggest highly illegal things when you ought to accept the situation given to you.”

“Hades! Have you lost your heart in your time as Emet-Selch?”

“I wouldn’t bother talking to you if I had. Or brought drinks."

"Hmph."

"...Look. You have been chosen for Azem, not Artemis. Wanting to change the past won’t fix anything. Besides which, the seat already suits you well, and time will only make your duties easier. Don’t try to do anything that you will regret just because of your guilt about something you couldn’t have influenced."

"Mmmm…"

"Unless you want to be known as the shortest tenure of Azem in history. I'd rather you not, but who am I to get in the way of what you desire?"

“...Oh fine, you haven’t lost your heart. Yet. I'm not going to quit."

"Good."

"She'd never speak to me again after all the hard work we both did for the seat."

"After giving you a hefty thump on the head, yes."

"But I do still want to help Artemis feel better, somehow."

"I must stress that I'm confident that she will be alright. Should that not be the case, however, I've devised a series of distractions to keep her mind off of the topic."

"...You were worried about us, huh?”

“Baseless accusations of my person aside, you and your twin both have a history of awful decision making whilst upset. My goal is to prevent the two of you from causing me more headaches, Apollo.”

“I think I can safely say that your goal isn’t a very attainable one.”

“Hmph. Think about what I’ve said.”

“I will.”

“Repeat what I’ve said, then.”

“‘Feelings fade, duty doesn’t.’ ‘Don’t focus on the past, look forward to the future.’ ‘I was slightly less qualified for my seat and I’m doing just fine.’ ‘I’m Hades and I’m always right about everything.’”

“Charming.”

“Thanks. I’ve been practicing my you-imitation.”

“I noticed.”

“You don’t have to glare so hard, I am listening to you, I swear!”

“I’ll believe that when I see the evidence for myself.”

“You wound me.”

“The drink will help with that.”

Emet-Selch felt his eye twitch in irritation at the scene before him. He could also feel the headache building at his temples already.

When he got his hands on them, he was going to let them have it. Both of them. Preferably with Hythlodaeus in the same room so that he could get the triple combination of annoying troublemakers. It didn’t matter if he'd had nothing to do with the situation that was unfolding. Blame could be given to him regardless. Hades' words would be hot enough to scald the three into submission if it was the last thing he ever--

“Are you feeling well, Emet-Selch?” 

The genuine concern in the young voice cut through his rage-fueled imaginings. Turning to face the speaker showed him none other than Elidibus, the youngest of the convocation. He had an anxious tension in his body language. An equally anxious expression surely was overtaking the face underneath the small red mask of his peer, though he was careful to be facing forward. 

It took Emet-Selch a moment to enforce a sense of calm in himself, if only to not snap at the youth for something he had no knowledge of. “I believe I may be a little under the weather,” He managed to say while his gaze moved from the youth to Azem, who was still happily chatting with another member of the convocation. “I could have sworn that Azem resembled someone else other than himself. But that couldn’t possibly be the case. There would be serious consequences if my imaginings had any basis on reality.” Venom crept into his voice as he spoke. So much for keeping calm.

He was well aware that he was far more perceptive than most. His attention to detail was one of the reasons why he had been considered for the seat of Emet-Selch in the first place. Noticing the subtle things about people was what his friends jokingly referred to as his "party trick" and they often roped him into their childish games by this ability.

This time the games had gone too far. Worse, he'd specifically warned against doing anything as foolhardy as what he was witnessing. 

Even more enraging, Emet-Selch hadn't even needed a moment to tell that Artemis was pretending to be Apollo to play the role of Azem.

It was so obvious to him! Yes it was difficult for most to tell the difference between the twins (especially when Artemis decided to pin up her hair to fit inside of the hood of her robe like she had done here), but to blatantly disregard any propriety and sense on a chance that no one would notice was just irresponsible, ill-conceived, and idiotic.

He could tolerate quite a lot from his more carefree friends, but stupidity--particularly stupidity that he'd done his best to prevent--was far more than enough to set him off.

Before he could stomp over and demand what she could be possibly thinking (and damn the consequences), Emet-Selch felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked down to see the worried frown on the part of Elidibus' face that he could see. "Did Azem do something to vex you?" He couldn't see the young man's eyes, but it was plain as day that they were wide and round with concern under the mask. "It must have been a great offense to anger you so. You're so often unflappable."

Emet-Selch winced. His rage, which had been building up again, left him all at once at Elidibus' gentle chiding. He made a mental note to be certain that no one, especially not his friends, heard a word of this. Just because he was still debating on whether or not to still call two of them friends of his didn't mean they needed to hear about this embarrassment. Beside which, he had been showing unprofessional behavior and he'd hurt the Emissary's feelings by accident. He needed to clean his own mess before he could begin to address the real problem.

Thinking quickly gave him a believable (and even somewhat truthful) tale for the youth. "My sincerest apologies, Elidibus. Azem had consulted with me about a personal matter some time ago." He spared a glance towards "Azem." She gave no indication to have noticed anything unusual, for she continued to be engaged in conversation. "I was...concerned," It took an immense amount of effort to keep his voice from expressing his true feelings. "That something he had said in jest was what he ended up doing despite my quite stern disapproval." 

Elidibus tilted his head, the frown lessening into a more neutral expression as he mulled over what had been said. He still hadn't let go of the sleeve of Emet-Selch's robe. It wouldn't take much effort to extract the cloth from the youth's hand, but he'd done enough to tarnish the Emissary's usual enthusiasm so he merely stood there. After all, he knew where the twins normally congregated. And he even had some ideas about where they would hide if they were alerted to his wrath. He could afford to wait for a response.

Eventually the youth nodded at some conclusion he had reached. "I think I understand. Your anger is related to the censure that Azem received."

"I would describe my feelings as an extreme form of irritation, though I can see why you would assume that." Off base though Elidibus was, it would neither be the first nor last time that Emet-Selch had used the assumptions and words of others to technically tell the truth. Particularly when Hythlodaeus, Artemis and Apollo were involved. The fact that a topic of the day's meeting had indeed been a public reprimand for Azem's recent unsanctioned (yet heroic) actions made for a good cover. "Azem is incapable of ignoring those in need. Regardless of the warnings given by wiser fellows."  It was a true statement no matter which twin he was talking about. 

A grin settled on the Emissary's face. "How fortunate, then, that we are blessed to have the seat of Azem filled by one so willing to go above and beyond what is asked of them." The smile dimmed a smidge as Elidibus added, "Though it comes at the cost of the concern of their friends."

He looked away from the youth, carefully keeping his face neutral although the words struck a chord within him. "I don't recall mentioning being friends with Azem."

"You don't need to disown Azem just for not listening to you, Emet-Selch." He could have sworn that he heard a hint of an eye roll in that sentence. Not that he could confirm it even if he were searching for an expression. "Mayhap there is a reason behind their actions that you have yet to grasp? The only way to know for certain is to ask." 

A pause grew between the two until finally Emet-Selch gave a snort. "Truly you are the heart of the Convocation, Elidibus." A warm smirk tugged at his lips as he glanced back down at the youth. Sure he was practically lectured by one much younger than him, but his own worry over the well being of two of his fellows was endearing. "I will take what you've said into consideration."

A truly radiant smile greeted his gaze. The young man finally released Emet-Selch's sleeve. "I look forward to your reconciliation." 

It was his turn to roll his eyes with as much subtlety as possible. "We'll see about that." With that, he turned on a heel and made his way to Artemis.

Apparently she had just noticed him walking towards her, for she said her goodbyes and made to leave. Emet-Selch deftly wrapped a hand around his friend's arm before she could escape. "Azem, there you are. I've been meaning to talk with you about something. Let us away and chat."

Just because he was less angry did not mean he wouldn't have strong words for his friends.

"So, how did the meeting go...?"

"Fine enough. I made an upsetting discovery, but was discouraged from acting on it immediately."

"I see."

"And then I had a serious conversation with the twins."

"Ah."

"...You knew that Artemis and Apollo were impersonating each other while also taking on the role of Azem."

"Why that's preposterous. And illegal. And many other equally negative descriptors--"

"Hythlodaeus."

"--why would you accuse me, your dearest friend, of knowing such seditious information? I'm hurt, Hades. Very hurt."

"Hythlodaeus."

"I'm just as shocked as you are that such a thing is happening--"

"The twins didn't say a word about you knowing. Then again they didn't have to."

"Oh fine. Yes, I knew."

"And you didn't try to stop them?"

"How could I? You know as well as I do that once those two have something set in their minds, nothing will discourage them. Even you couldn't stop them if you'd known about it beforehand."

"I did try. I didn't know what the plan was going to be, but I attempted to discourage it anyway."

"And see how much that slowed them down."

"Hm."

"...If it helps, I had nothing to do with that particular decision. They came to me after they had already set themselves on it. I merely made a few suggestions about how to better impersonate each other."

"So the hair extension concept was your doing."

"Guilty as charged."

"Be thankful you're not being charged for anything. Nor are the twins, in case you hadn't heard."

"Good, good."

"...It's odd, though."

"What is?"

"I told Apollo 'feelings fade, duty doesn't.' And I still agree with that. Yet, here I am shirking my duty to report all of this for the sake of my friends' feelings."

"...Perhaps you just have the wrong phrasing."

"Oh really?"

"Don't look at me like that, you can be wrong sometimes, Hades."

"Then what, pray tell, is the correct phrasing?"

"I'm no wordsmith, but perhaps it should be something like, 'many things, including feelings, can and should slip from your grasp, but duty and friendship are what you should hold onto.'"

"...You are absolutely no wordsmith."

"My apologies for trying to sum up your own clunky speech." 

"How are we friends?"

"We just are."

"...She really was being obvious about not being Apollo, though. I told her to not get caught, but I'll need to make certain that no one else suspects. It'd be a nightmare if any other member of the Convocation knew."

"Oh, they didn't tell you?"

"......Tell me what."

"They've informed Elidibus already. It was one of the first things they decided on because, to quote them, 'It would be cruel to leave him confused about the situation.'"

"...Please tell me you have a well fermented bottle."

"Coming right up."

#Final Fantasy 14 #fanfiction #emet-selch #elidibus #hythlodaeus #azem #twin azem AU #yes you read that right #listen i've had this sitting in my drafts since december #there might be a bit of oocness but whatever it's finished now

[anchanted-one]

FFXIV Write. Prompt 22. Argy Bargy

"In short, Zenos chased Lahabrea out of his real body and reclaimed it. The first thing he did upon achieving this is the murder of his own Father, Emperor Varis. There is now no one in the upper echelons of Garlemald who is even interested in the war. In short, it seems like the time has never been more perfect to break Garlean might for good."

"Which means that some within their ranks would feel pressed into upping the production of Black Rose!" Alphinaud whispered. His face looked like spoiled milk. "The Eighth Umbral Calamity... It is approaching a critical juncture."

"According to Estinien, Zenos killed Varis in retaliation for the Black Rose," Ryosen addressed his concern. "He does not want such cowardly actions interfering with his 'hunt'. He may not be trying to take over, but he will crush any who spoil his sport. In addition, he and Gaius Baelsar continue to destroy every lab and cache of the poison that comes to their attention."

"It is not like Elidibus to lose control," Emet Selch mused. "Perhaps my time is better spent correcting the consequences of his missteps."

"Perhaps he's losing his touch?" Ryosen offered. "Growing senile in his old age?"

That got under the normally level-headed Ascian's skin. Emet Selch's eyes narrowed with dislike and he jabbed a finger at Ryosen like as though it was a gun. "Brutes should stay silent unless it is their intent to broadcast their stupidity. Ascians do not age. We are immortal. Do you not even know what that means?" "You Ascians have had your fun for millennia," Ryosen said, voice oozing with contempt. "Treating us like worthless dogs with no right to live, culling us like pests and telling us that we deserve it. But now, four of your Red Masks have died within years of each other, including Lahabrea—one of the unbroken, or whatever it is you call yourselves—and Elidibus has had his rump handed to him by two of us 'lesser mortals' in a matter of days. Either you are growing weak, or we are worth more than you in your arrogance believe—in which case the entire reasoning for your Rejoinings is a lie. Which one is it, Emet Selch? Are you decaying, or are you wrong?"

"And you think it would all have been different without us?" the Ascian sneered. "Even without us to fan the flames, you start wars and commit atrocities too numerous for even one of my lifetimes can list."

"Indeed, such horrors! The Rejoinings, where you slaughter billions with merely a shadow of a hope that all that blood will please your god. Much less barbaric." Ryosen was contempt personified.

"I do not see you as truly alive," Emet Selch repeated his words from before. "Ergo I do not see killing you as murder."

"What remarkable logic," the Samurai laughed in his face. "I bet you can extend that definition to anyone and everyone when it suits you. How many cages full of people will you be butchering just because they think and live differently? Did you not do that already unleash that flawless reasoning to massacre your own kind, the ones who summoned Hydaelyn to counteract Zodiark?"

"That..." Emet Selch faltered. "That was different."

"I'm sure."

"Supposition is all you have to go by. You weren't there, yet it is my history. I have lived it."

"And you are caged in it. Look at you! Millennia gone, and it still haunts you, dictates your every last action. And your actions? You dare try to push the blame on us? Yes, we are flawed, yes we are bloodthirsty, but it is not our invention. All the tools of war—Magitek, the doomsday technology of Allag, even the blasted Primals... they all find their roots in you. If our conflicts are horrifically bloody, it is because of your meddling. Without you, the dust you have kicked up might eventually settle down one day. And if that proves impossible for us, it's because you opened Pandora's Box."

"Fine, fine." Emet Selch seemed to have grown bored by all of this, but Ryne could not help but feel like he was troubled. "You seem determined to blame us for all of your problems. By all means continue to do so if it comforts you. No matter what you do, your days are numbered."

With that, he finished his drink and left the room, waving nonchalantly as he did. "Well done!" Y'shtola clapped. "With luck he'll try something stupid in the Source and Zenos will slow him for us."

"I don't think he will be leaving us," Urianger said. "He sees us as the biggest threat to the Ascians, we who have foiled their plans at so many turns." "More fool he is, then!" Ryosen sat, massaging a flare up near his belly. Ryne looked at him concernedly. He had told them that Bishamonten's curse was broken, and the curse pains leaving him, but that wasn't what she saw. "When do you plan to move against Eulmore? The sooner we cast down this Don Vauthry the less time he will have to react to it."

"Are you... are you really okay to fight?" Ryne piped up. "Your curse has weakened but it has not entirely  broken. Not yet."

He looked at her, his face softening. "And you must be Ryne? E'nisse has told me much about you." The twinkle in his eye as he beheld her brought a fierce joy fought with her indignation that he had brushed off her objection, but then he spoke again. "As Ryne says, I am better but not cured. If I may make a request, I would like to rest a few days. See if the pain leaves, if my curse really is gone or not."

"And if it doesn't?" Alphinaud asked.

"If it's not going to get better, then there's no sense in waiting anyway, and I will fight the battle that fate has called upon me to as I am, hoping that it will be enough. I guarantee that the curse stays dormant while I hold even a wooden sword. I will do my duty."

"That's what I am afraid of," Ryne said, but softly. She was keenly aware that Ryosen's summoning had been largely at her insistence. But now that it was done, she could see she had greatly underestimated the curse, if a weakened version was still as bad as what her Senses told her.

Please don't die, Father. Please.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2020 #ffxiv writing challenge

[aryalaenkha-a]

FFXIV Shadowbringers Fanfiction

Title: The leaving of the Convocation Characters: Moira (Nemesis), Emet-Selch, Elidibus, Mitron, Halmarut, Lahabrea Warning: 5.0 spoilers

For hours the members of the Convocation of the Fourteen had been sitting in this circular room in which their council was meeting, discussing the thorny subject of the moment: that Sound growling under the surface of the earth. Already several cities had fallen over the ocean, and it was only a matter of time before this Doom would ravage their world.

With her elbows resting on the armrests of her massive seat and her fingertips neatly joined together, Moira was trying to keep her calm as some ideas began to be evoked. "You're not serious, I hope?" she asked in a particularly cold tone, her face hidden behind her crimson mask and hood. "Do you really intend to appeal to the Will of the Star to help us?"

Heads turned to her, then to Elidibus, who spoke to answer. "If you have another proposal to make, we are listening, Nemesis."

Moira looked out at the assembly before addressing her peers. "Why don't we go out there and study the phenomenon so we can treat the problem at its source? The Akadaemia Anyder is full of brilliant minds who'd be delighted to investigate."

In a neutral tone, a voice rose from the chair beside her. "This is far too dangerous. Many of our fellows have allowed their fear to overwhelm them, losing control of their magic of creation and giving birth to nameless abominations. I will not endanger the lives of our seekers." So spoke Mitron. Halmarut and Lahabrea nodded, agreeing with their colleagues.

"Very well," Moira answered undaunted. "In that case, I'll go alone." Her determination was unfailing and her voice did not tremble.

"You're not thinking about it," said the person sitting in front of her in a detached tone.

"Do you doubt my competence, dear Emet-Selch?" The woman turned her head to the man who had just spoken to her, her voice becoming much sterner. "If our people have the power to shape the world, then I am the one who must ensure that every creation does not upset the Balance of our Star. We must discover and understand what that Sound is. It may be an anomaly, an imbalance, something alien. We know absolutely nothing about it. But you'd prefer a far more radical solution that will require an astronomical mass of aether and create an unprecedented imbalance."

The two stared at each other silently for many seconds before the Emissary spoke again. "In that case, let's have a vote. All those in favour of studying the Sound raise their hands." Only Moira raised hers. "All those in favour of appealing to the Will of the Star raise their hands." The other thirteen hands raised theirs in turn. "All right, then. By majority vote, the decision to summon Zodiark will be implemented."

Moira sighed heavily between her clenched teeth as anger, frustration, and disappointment slowly stained her soul. "Since you prefer not to listen to my warnings..." She straightened up from her seat, raised her hand and removed her crimson mask, revealing her face, so soft yet with closed features for the time being. "I retire from the Convocation of the Fourteen. Do not count on me to carry out such a plan." She dropped what referred to her as Nemesis on the floor, then with a snap of her finger, she made a white mask appear, which she donned before leaving the room, furious. Silence reigned for a moment.

"Well. The meeting was adjourned. We'll discuss the implementation of this project at our next session," Elidibus concluded.

Emet-Selch sighed in turn, gently squeezing his crossed hands, before getting up from his chair and going to the former Nemesis' office. He knocked on the door and entered when a voice gave him permission in a sharp tone. "Moira. Please try to understand..." he began before she cut him off. "There's nothing to understand," she answered coldly. "I don't think you realize the consequences of such an action!" She turned to face him, her dismay visible in her pearly eyes. "I thought you at least would support me..." "I agree with the others. It's far too dangerous to go there," he said as he slowly came closer. "And I don't want to lose you..." He raised one hand to put it on her arm and reached out his aether to try to soothe her. But with a quick gesture, the woman pushed him away and withdrew completely on herself. "Lose me? Do you hear yourself, Hades? You'd rather think of yourself than save our people!" Her voice was full of reproach. "That's what I'm trying to do, save our people. And you at the same time," he said scowling. "I'd rather sacrifice myself to get answers that will save as many people as possible. Because how do you think you're gonna find so much aether to summon Zodiark, huh? Think about that for a minute!" Her anger was palpable, as was her despair. "How many of our people will have to give their lives for your madness?! HOW MANY?! Do you even realize what it's going to cost us?!" Emet-Selch withdrew on himself in turn, his facial features closing into a sterner expression. "Heroism doesn't suit you, Moira," he said in a much more cold and dismissive tone. "You know very well that our people will think above all of the common good and will not hesitate to sacrifice themselves if it would prevent the end of the world." "Heroism?!" she replied in a scornful tone. "I have no intention of being a hero." She sighed heavily, clenching her jaws. "I thought you knew me better than anyone else, after all we've shared together. But obviously, I was wrong... You're still so selfish... Don't be surprised if you end the rest of eternity alone..." "In that case, I'd rather be alone. At least I won't have to put up with your sarcasm and whining anymore."Saying that, he turned around and walked out of the office trying to control the anger that was about to explode. Thinking, he turned around and walked out of the office trying to control the anger that was about to explode.  On the other hand, Moira fell apart completely, bursting into tears. Although they bickered from time to time, they'd never had a huge argument like this before. It was painful, very painful. For both of them.

Despite any regrets they might have had about talking to each other in this way, they no longer spoke to each other, the succession of events during the final days pushing both of them to continue their actions to achieve their ideals. However, until the end, their love for each other continued...

#Moira (Amaurotine!Aria) | Headcanon #FFXIV | Fanfiction #Regarding | Emet-Selch #Lahabrea #Elidibus #Mitron #halmarut #shadowbringers spoilers #5.0 spoilers

[autumnslance]

Lmao I got three I'm particularly curious about for you on the character meme. Thancred, Lahabrea, Igeyorhm. XD Feel free to do as many or as few as you'd like of course!

You asked for it. We’ll start with That Damned Rogue. The Ascians will be below.

This of course got long, so behind a cut it goes:

Thancred

First impression: I started in Gridania and took like 2 years to finish ARR 2.0, was already spoiled on the possession angle (I spoiled myself, no big), and had just @erickgage‘s affectionate joking summary of Thancred being the guy who shows up 5 minutes late with Starbucks to all the early battles. So I didn’t really get to meet the guy ‘til the Waking Sands.

And honestly, he was stereotypical generic bland anime prettyboy competent guy. His 1.0/ARR model is…just sorta there. He was a flirt, also generic as heck. Really didn’t register too much, until I finished 2.0 finally and then went hard on the MSQ through the patches and into HW and StB 4.0, when I finally caught up to content.

Impression now: Godsdammit.

My first replay through the game was on PunchyCat, starting in Ul’dah, which meant I got to meet Thancred much earlier. I was immediately amused by his nickname for Nanamo, and Papashan’s assessment of the witty Archon. I was more into the lore, getting the first lorebook and reading the short stories on the main site, and playing through all at once instead of piecemeal over months/years made things make more sense. Thancred hits a lot of tropes I commonly like in a lot of characters, so he jumped up to being a favorite.

Gunbreaker suits him as a tank job (thank goodness he can stop trying to tank warmachina as a rogue, ffs Thancred), and tanking in general suits him when it comes to fighting for those he cares about.

I’m interested in the ShB story mentioning why he wears white in all his gear iterations; I’d previously made a post about his color choices and that aspect of character design, but having a lore explanation for his affinity for that color was interesting. I didn’t think his HW model suited him, honestly; way too rough mountain man hobo. His model in ShB is closer to his ARR model, but different enough, and imbued now with actual character, that he’s a bit more visually interesting and while still pretty typical handsome anime protagonist in appearance; his true personality just comes through a lot more.

I’m still forever mad about the unintentional character ‘ship with Aeryn, tho. It took a 3rd playthrough for it to happen.

For myself, mind, when I got into playing and learned his canonical age, it was at the time the same difference between myself and my younger brother. My assessment of the Scion “family” with Thancred being the middle child (esp his behavior pre-HW) maybe helps that. I’m getting to a point, really, where I look at the characters under 35 and think “OMG disaster children, all of you.”

Favorite moment: Oh goodness. There’s some good ones.

‘How was I supposed to know all my girlfriends would track me down and show up at HQ all at the same time: a master class in how to not to deal with multiple paramours by Archon T. Waters.’

His dramatic reappearance and duel with Ardbert in HW 3.1.

Taking out his frustrations by soloing the Coerthas cyclops boss so we can get on with the Tournament and fight Raubahn. (Side Bonus: pre-tournament when he jokes about fighting for the other team to even up the odds, and then: “It looks to be a veritable who’s who of the Eorzean Alliance. The only question is: who came to watch and who came to fight? Hmm…Nanamo. Definitely Nanamo.”)

Making sure Urianger knew he was still part of the team post-Soul Surrender climax.

“All right, which one of you triggered the obvious trap?” Also learning he can hold his breath for 10 freaking minutes–but still gets to be jealous of the WoL, Lyse, and Alisaie for their kojin blessing.

That dramatic teamwork with Urianger to knock Ran’jit down the pit in Rak’tika.

That frickin’ Trolley duty and it’s aftermath with the completed checklist of anime death markers and then just sitting there battered and bleeding and smiling and then giving Ryne a name and a headpat and “You’re family.” Bastard.

Idea for a story: Have you seen my Ao3 account? *grumbles*

Unpopular opinion: While he likely used drinking as a bad coping mechanism at times in ARR’s patches, I doubt he ever really went to blackout, as losing control to that extent, after having been controlled and probably losing a lot of time while possessed, would be awful. We see him drink a few times, but I don’t think he is/was an alcoholic.

I also agree with @ahlis-xiv that his flirtatious persona was mostly adopted. While he probably does have a healthy libido and enjoys time with paramours (that Urianger keeps a handy list of), there’s a lot that’s likely exaggerated, allowed to be assumed, and otherwise used as a cover, given his specializations. It’s also noteworthy how he’s mostly acting the same even after being lost in the wilderness, right up until our foray into the Antitower. The wit/humor gets toned down a lot, but the flirting is cut out entirely after that. He still charms some ladies in the First, based on incidental dialogue, but that seems a general reaction to him being a handsome hero type rather than any intentional flirtatious act on his part.

Favorite relationship: Thancred and little sister types. I do wish we’d seen more of his relationship with Minfilia outside of informed moments and the short stories. I feel like he has a semi-older-brother relationship with Lyse, too, given their antics in the 2.0 patches (particularly the “Hoary’s fighting the WoL, come watch!” and Thancred not even considering how one of his girlfriends would see him sending Lyse to retrieve an item until after and going “oh yeah, whoops”). And now there’s Ryne, and she is totally running things if you watch their background conversations/body language. But that’s kind of where Thancred likes it; find a girl who needs a protective older brother and do what she asks and whatever she needs.

I do have a special place in my heart for the expanded broship with Urianger that Shadowbringers gave us, though. I’ve already spoken on that one.

Favorite headcanon: Everything people assume about how he spoils the nutkin. And really, focusing on taking care of and doting on a pet would be good therapy. Goodness knows he needs it.

Also I assume he and Hilda hooked up at least once during the HW patches. Part of that expectation and cover, sure, to immediately flirt with the pretty, tough, half-elezen guard captain. But also, he spent however long mostly alone, and then only with the Vath and a nutkin for company; the guy was probably touch-starved and lonely and just needing a connection to another person he could relate to (that wasn’t a bug).

Otherwise, again, have you seen my Ao3? Ugh. Damned snarky smart rogues…

————

Lahabrea

First impression: Laughing Organization XIII-wannabe is obvious villain. Wonder what their deal is.

Impression now: So much lost/wasted potential thanks to being stuck as the ARR villain when it was so hastily rewritten and acted, and so little was decided on the Ascians and their motivations yet. A lot of what we learn now retroactively makes him more interesting. The fact he was a workaholic who looked at the workaholic Scion and went “ah yes; that one will do, perfect” makes me laugh.

Favorite moment: I like his interactions with Elidibus. And I am actually fairly fond of his theatrical reveal in Praetorium about the Ultima Weapon, the Heart of Sabik, and casting Ultima.

Idea for a story: Maybe stuff while he’s possessing Thancred. Maybe stuff between then and the Reactor. I dunno; I’ve been enjoying a lot of others’ stories about our first Ascian antagonist.

Unpopular opinion: Dunno if this is unpopular, but some of the retroactive information is to excuse why he seemed so much less powerful than other, later Ascians, but I do think the Speaker could be quite devious and powerful, if he had better writing around him. He suffers for being from ARR.

Favorite relationship: I am not ashamed to admit I am a Lahabrea/Igeyorhm shipper and Hades Ex seems to agree with me so there.

Favorite headcanon: The Speaker likely also had a good singing voice. Another thing good about possessing a man whose primary cover was a bard–excuses to indulge that.

————

Igeyorhm

First impression: Wannabe-Organization XIII also hires women, cool. Wonder if she’ll get to do anything?

Impression now: I’m sad so much got cut from HW; as great as it was, a lot got left on the editing room floor and it shows in spots–particularly where the Ascians connect with the plot. We learn much about her retroactively as well, including how she worked for/with Lahabrea thanks to being the one to wreck the Thirteenth, and change Ascian policy on how to bring about Rejoinings. I still wanna know more about her.

Favorite moment: You beat the whale, good job–thanks, that’s my key now. It’s such a perfect dick move. Excellent timing and taunting. 

Idea for a story: Maybe some of her inner thoughts working for/with Lahabrea. She was a raised up shard, so does that mean they found the scattered pieces of her original soul and force-merged them? I doubt it, since Emet-Selch mentions raising up those who are a piece of the previous office holder, but I wonder if it came with imbuing the new title-holder with some of those memories and knowledge. Perhaps she wonders if some of her interactions/feelings/whatever with Lahabrea are her own, or her tapping into her previous life’s memories. Something to think about, anyway.

Unpopular opinion: I dunno, she shoulda gotten to stick around longer? Or been allowed to do a lot more? Should have been much more of a presence in HW, but I don’t think that’s unpopular so much as unconsidered.

Favorite relationship: Lahabrea is really the only one she gets significant interactions with. Though I wonder about her interactions with the other few women in the Ascians.

Favorite headcanon: See above with the story ideas, really; she didn’t get a lot of time onscreen so there’s a lot of room to make things up, and retroactive info from ShB to make her more interesting, or at least her situation as an upraised Ascian.

#Final Fantasy XIV #Prompts #Thancred Waters #Lahabrea #Igeyorhm #Ascians #illegiblewords

[did-you-reboot]

Saudade: Chapter 17: Hydaelyn

This chapter of Saudade has a lot of zalgo’d text in the AO3 post because I gotta be artsy fartsy and make it aesthetic, but you can read it un-zalgo’d after the cut. : )

Sysogrant had been overrun by the monstrous, terrifying beasts in spite of everything they had tried, and they had tried everything they could in the short amount of time they had. They had captured one and sent it back to the Akadaemia for study, but it was soon undeniable that nothing short of brute force was going to vanquish the terrors. Athena had sent for the Third and Fourth Complements to clear them out of the city, and for a short while they held the creatures at bay; just as they grew comfortable, however, a larger one emerged, one more monstrous and more powerful than anything they had yet seen. 

They felled it at the cost of the entire Third Complement. And even then, their sacrifice hadn’t been enough: when it became clear the city was lost, Sysogrant’s leaders had urged the Convocation to flee—to survive that they might save others. The Convocation made a hasty—humiliating—shameful—heart-rending retreat back to Amaurot, and it was there that the entirety of the Convocation now gathered.

Lahabrea had suggested gathering the Convocation at the Akadaemia rather than their formal assembly chamber in the Capitol, no doubt to have researchers within immediate reach. There, they discussed with increasing urgency the fall of Sysogrant and their options to protect Amaurot and its citizens. The beast they had captured had already yielded useful but troubling information—Lahabrea suspected they were wrought of fear and dread—

Her wound, too, yielded troubling information; it had somehow penetrated far, far deeper than the mere physical—there was a deep ache that seemed to pierce through the surface of her soul. Neither she nor Halmarut nor Igeyohrm could mend the wound nor her eye, and though the bleeding had stopped, it remained open and developed a disturbing purplish sheen. When the meeting was suspended to afford the Convocation a moment of rest, Athena found herself in the Akadaemia infirmary where her face played host to the ministrations of the researchers as they tried to make sense of what the beasts had done to her.

There were a myriad of uncertainties about what the beasts had done, but one thing was clear: there was to be no easy recovery if one was wounded in fighting them.

Finally, when the researchers had finished all their poking and prodding and swabbing, she wearily sent them away to find the Fourth Complement, that they might poke and prod them and gather more information from their wounds. Igeyorhm, though, insisted that Athena spend the night in the infirmary to allow some time to monitor the wound, and though she ached to sleep in a familiar bed, she relented.

Hades sat quietly at her bedside with her hand in his as he gently ran his thumb over her knuckles. He remained silent but they hadn’t any need to speak—she felt the entirety of his worry and dread and sorrow and pulled them close so as to share the burden.

And what, really, could be said?

=====

“If we evacuate those who cannot fight, then we may stand a chance. We secure safe zones and form an evacuation plan for the citizens, and then we may fight the beasts as they come without concern for casualties. We fight them with our full strength, and we fight without concern for damage. We fight together—we can do this together.”

Athena cast her eye around her peers, and found all of them bearing some level of doubt and uncertainty.

“To put our people in danger as such...” Emmerololth murmured, a frown on her lips.

“We cannot merely evacuate—we must fight if we hope to have any chance of survival,” Athena said hotly. This argument had been going in circles for nearly a day now, which was taking away what precious little time they had to prepare a full-scale evacuation plan for Amaurot.

Mitron scoffed. “Your words have been naught but lofty ideals better suited for childrens’ bedtime stories!”

She bristled with indignation and made to speak when Lahabrea held up a hand to stop her.

“Enough, Fandaniel. These beasts have emerged from Creation itself, and it is small-minded and pure folly to expect to save our star with brute force.”

“It is not merely force that beats them back! You didn’t fight them—you didn’t feel it! It’s facing—”

“And look what you have to show for it!” Nabriales interrupted. “An unmendable wound, and the blood of the Third Complement on your hands. You would have the blood of all of Amaurot?”

Athena was nearly shaking with rage. How dare he—how dare he—

“I said enough, Fandaniel,” Lahabrea warned.

The silence felt as a thread on the verge of snapping; Athena felt the entirety of the Convocation staring her down—she felt their judgment and their scorn burning into her—

Hades’s voice cut through the tension.

“We must needs rewrite the laws of Creation itself to rid the star of this blight.”

=====

“The nuance is all wrong! It won’t work how you want!”

Athena paced furiously back and forth across the small seminar room where she and Hades were spending the recess whilst Lahabrea addressed the general public and relayed to them the grim news. They were both frayed by the approach of the beasts and the need to enact a plan—more cities were falling, and they couldn’t send aid without thinning their resources to save Amaurot...

“And what would you know about nuance? You merely mend that which already exists!”

She stopped in her tracks and looked to Hades, her mouth agape. The stress was getting to him—it was getting to all of them—but he had not once spoken to her with such a pointedly patronizing tone.

“How could you say that, Hades? Have I fallen so low in your eyes?”

“Your idealism will only ensure the downfall of this star.”

“They are made of fear, Hades! Fear that we as a people have pushed out of mind! You felt it—you felt it! To face them—if we face the fear—”

“Has that wound driven you mad?” Hades asked in disbelief. “You are of the Convocation—you are smarter than this, Athena!”

=====

The Convocation had all but stopped listening to anything Athena had to say.

They meant to summon a god. 

They meant to summon Zodiark.

They wouldn’t hear her pleas about the nuance—they meant to sacrifice half their population to summon a god, with all the baggage which would come along with it—and though she could see that Halmarut, Igeyorhm, and Loghrif shared her misgivings, they had obviously concluded that Zodiark was their best option…

“If you will not stand with us, Fandaniel,” Elidibus said after Athena’s latest attempt to interject, “then you may vacate your seat. We have reached consensus, and we proceed with or without you.”

=====

During another recess, she had gone to check the Bureau and found Euneas waiting in her office, biting his nails in his worry.

“Is it true? Are you resigning?” The words tumbled out of his mouth before she could even express surprise at his presence.

Athena sighed and bowed her head.

“What do you think of their proposal, Euneas?” she asked.

“I don’t often doubt the Convocation, Conservator, but...” He trailed off and shifted uncomfortably. “My personal opinion is that the entire idea is mad.”

“As is mine. But they proceed regardless.”

“The Bureau stands with you, Conservator,” Euneas said firmly. “There will still be half the city in need of protection, and we can’t do it without you. Fandaniel or not.”

=====

“I’m begging you—this is a mistake! To create something so far removed—”

“Athena! Your arguments have already been found wanting!” Lahabrea snapped, slamming his fist on the lectern. “If you do not stand with us, then it is time you left.”

The sound of her name on his lips was wholly unexpected and felt as a punch to the gut—she was so startled by the brazen disrespect that she could only stare in stunned disbelief. 

For Lahabrea to drop her title…

It was clear he no longer considered her of the Convocation.

She looked to Halmarut and Igeyohrm, their eyes carefully averted—

She looked to Loghrif, his head bowed—

She looked to Hades, sitting motionless and impassive—she knew he could see the plea for help in her soul—she knew he meant to continue, whether or not she came along—

She raised her fingers to her mask and slowly pulled it from her face.

“Then I hereby step down from the seat of Fandaniel of the Convocation of Fourteen.”

And as she set her mask on the table, she looked to Hades one last time in the hopes that he might object—

His silence was all she needed to know.

=====

The star was breaking apart—great chunks of earth had lifted from the surface and the purplish void of the end spread across the sky and it flashed with otherworldly hues as it cracked and cracked and cracked—

Her people had saved who they could but half of Amaurot wasn’t enough to push it back—they could not hold the city together—they could not hold the star together—alone, it was too much to grasp—alone, they could not hold it—alone, they never could have—

An ear-shattering shriek rent the air—rent their bodies—rent their souls—

It seemed to rend reality itself—

And from everything and nothing a form congealed in the shattered sky—

From everything and nothing, somehow both infinite and infinitesimal—

From everything and nothing, Zodiark took shape and reared up in the sky—

There was another soul-rending shriek and the star churned and twisted—the gaping cracks of their doom hidden and obscured as the shape of reality knotted a million times over—

There were screams from her people and from the beasts and from the very star itself—

And then there was silence.

=====

The land was dead

The land was dead and their magic could not breathe life into it

The land was dead and they faced a new kind of doom 

The land was dead and they turned once more to the god towering over the land

and she watched as another half offered their lives

and she watched as Zodiark took them

and she cried

she cried

=====

A new sort of life emerged

They were a grotesque facsimile of what life once was—they were small, misshapen, weak—

They were terrified by this sudden existence but they tried to survive because it was all they knew—

They fought and stole and killed and hurt and cried and helped and cared and loved—

It wasn’t their fault

It wasn’t their fault 

=====

She and her people tried to limit their interactions with the life born of Zodiark—she found they were often sweet and gracious when treated as such but their adoration of the Amaurotines made her uncomfortable—

Regardless, she and what remained of her Bureau tried to keep them safe from the dangers born in Zodiark’s new world

They deserved that much, didn’t they?

=====

The Convocation was not happy to rest with the life given to them by their Lord—

They wished to return their sacrificed brethren, and they meant to offer the life now thriving on the star to the Lord who had already taken so much—

She and those of similar mind protested—it wasn’t fair to take them—it wasn’t fair to raise them for slaughter—

And for once their people stood divided

=====

She couldn’t reach them—they wouldn’t listen—they spoke to her as they spoke to her the day she stepped down—

Within her, they saw what could have been—within her, they saw extinction—

They saw an extinction which was averted by the grace of their Lord—

And eventually they wouldn’t speak to her at all

=====

It wasn’t long before she and her followers were unwelcome in the city

They left to live elsewhere, though she and what remained of her Bureau had contacts who could keep them abreast of the Convocation’s plans, and a question soon loomed over them—

Were they turning their backs on their people by fighting to protect those lives being raised for harvest?

=====

She leaned back against a tree along the edge of a cliff, breathing in the mountain air—it didn’t smell quite right but it was still calming in a way—it was the closest she could get to calming these days…

“Athena.”

It had been years and years and years since she heard her true name—she quickly turned and peered around the tree to see who dared to utter it.

Her heart all but stopped in her chest.

“Hades,” she breathed.

It was Hades—his shape and his face and his soul—

But it also wasn’t. 

Though he yet bore the mask of Emet-Selch, his robes were not the familiar robes of the Convocation; sinister spikes adorned his shoulders and long, pointed claws extended from his fingers—

She had suspected there was something odd about the Convocation, and here—the closest she had been to him in years and years and years—she could see that within him there was something else—something unfamiliar—something wrong—

And yet the sight of him reminded her of the profound ache within her—though she felt a deep hurt whenever she thought of him, she had still deeply, deeply missed him—

He approached, slowly but not hesitantly.

“How did you find me?” she whispered when he stood before her.

Her heart was pounding in her chest.

“I received news that you were in the area, so I came to search for you.” 

He brought a clawed hand to his mask and pulled it away, and she felt a pang in her chest at the sight of him, at the sight of his eyes—he was so weary, so much wearier than she had ever known him—and in his eyes, she could feel the something else hovering just beneath the surface…

And he brought his hands to her cheeks and gently pulled her close—she had so longed for his touch and couldn’t bear to resist—he pressed his forehead to hers and they both exhaled at the feel of each other—hesitantly she reached her soul to his to feel the bond they had once shared—

There was something else—there was something else—it was subtle and it was dark and it was insidious and it felt wrong within his soul—

She yelped and recoiled from his hands, her eyes wide with alarm. Hades looked hurt by this—he looked hurt and it was heart-wrenching to see and feel his despair but there was something else—

“What was that?” she asked, her brow furrowed.

He seemed confused by her question. 

“What was what?”

Dread filled her. She didn’t know how to tell him about the something else or if it was even safe to do so…

When he realized that she wasn’t about to elaborate—that she couldn’t—he held out a hand toward her.

“Come back with me and stop this madness, Athena. Stand with us,” he said. His expression softened, and there was a glimmer of hope in his tired eyes. “I would be better for your presence.”

His face slowly fell as her silence only continued. 

“Soon, the star will be ready and we shall have our people back—all who gave their lives to save our star,” Hades said. “All will soon be as it was. We can do it together.”

She stepped back with a shake of her head.

“No—no, I can’t support that. I won’t.”

A shadow of resentment colored his face.

“That flawed life is unworthy of our star,” he said.

“They live, and they are worthy,” she said, clenching a fist. “We’ve lost so much to Zodiark already and I’ll not allow them to be taken so long as I still stand.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You would protect them over the return of our friends? Our loved ones?”

“They don’t deserve what you’re going to do to them.”

He looked disgusted by her words.

“They are hardly worth your consideration—they are hardly worth consideration as life at all.”

In this moment, she could see she would not be able to sway him—

In this moment, she could see the something else—

In this moment, her heart split—

“It won’t work the way you want, Emet-Selch.”

=====

She and what remained of her Bureau—only twelve of them now—desperately considered their options—

To fight the Convocation would be to draw the ire of their people

To fight the Convocation would be to draw the ire of the god they served

And then they wondered—

If they meant to throw their lives away in the end, they wondered if they might fight Zodiark Himself

=====

The Convocation began their prayers sooner than expected, and the only plan they had which had any chance of succeeding was to fight fire with fire—

She and her twelve wept as their followers offered up their lives—

She and her twelve wept as they prayed with a nuance clearly in mind—

They wept as they prayed not for a god but for strength which would allow them to stand against one—

They wept as they prayed not for a god but for the strength to stop Zodiark—

They wept and their tears glimmered as the souls of their friends dissolved along with their whispered goodbyes—

And there was a soul-rending shriek—a shriek of many voices that soon merged as one—

From everything and nothing, their strength emerged—

From everything and nothing, the answer emerged—

From everything and nothing, Hydaelyn emerged—

They wept as they marched for Zodiark under Her Light—

They wept as their souls glimmered and shone as one—

And Zodiark and Hydaelyn clashed—and they clashed—and they clashed—

And the thirteen of them leapt in to fight when the Convocation tried to help their god—

And with each blow to Zodiark, reality twisted and rippled and distorted and was soon too unstable for them to even see who was who—

And soon they were desperately trading blows with indistinct dangerous shapes and they knew not if the blows were even reaching—

And there was a horrific scream from the depths of everything—

Shapes slipped between the folds of reality into the space between—

And reality cracked

     And reality splintered

          and with one last blow

          reality itself was sundered

#rebootwritings #fanfic #ffxiv #ffxiv spoilers #shadowbringers spoilers #long post

[starcunning]

9. Hesitate

Daisies spring from damnèd seeds

For @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast‘s FFXIVWrite 2019. [Title] [AO3 mirror]

When she came in, Urianger was halfway through his cup of tea. He set it before him and smiled at her, and she could not help but mirror the gesture. “I had it on good authority you hated that stuff,” Shasi said, setting her pack beside the door. “Thou wouldst put store by pixie authority?” he asked. There was a gentle amusement in his tone. “Of course not,” she said, stooping to scoop up a few apples that had fallen to the floor, scattered some distance from the bowl that ought to have held them. “I’m beginning to think that of all the courses of study in Sharlayan, ‘organization’ was absent the list.” His chair scraped the floor as he stood, crossing the anteroom to aid her in her hopeless effort at tidying up. “Alas,” he said, “we Archons of Louisoix’s party were consumed by more pressing concerns. Thou art one to give a lecture in any case, my lady.” She flicked an ear in annoyance that was perhaps more genuine than he’d meant. “How would you know?” she asked. “It’s not as though you’ve seen how I’ve been living for …” “Three years,” he finished for her. “They seem to have agreed with you,” she told him, but she could not make it as cheerful as she ought.

It was true—he seemed lighter, somehow, though given the circumstances perhaps that was a charged word. It was not all down to the change in his garb, either, glad though she was to see him give up his hood and goggles. Not that such things had ever served to obscure him from her in the ways that mattered; they made themselves understood to one another. Still, it seemed he had found some ease here, though that only put him in starker contrast to those that had not.

“Another of the peculiarities of Sharlayan is the cooking,” he said, placing a gentle hand at her elbow to shepherd her from the door. “’Tis very bland, and thus I find such sweets as are common here overbearing. Yet the demands of politesse dictate I refuse not a fae’s gift, and thus am I burdened with their consumption. Perhaps thou wouldst do me the kindness of sharing this burden?” Shasi let him lead her to the table, and sat opposite him. She contemplated the time since she had done so last—some few moons, she knew, but most of the days that comprised them were lost to her. It might have been a sennight ago. It might have been five years. The disorientation of such darkness as had plagued her on the Source had given way to the oppressive light of the First, which made days no easier to number. Still, however she counted, he had endured far longer. She doubted if he remembered sitting in a room with her, each of them ignoring the other in favor of the ghosts she had conjured. Shasi regarded the plate between them. It was stacked with cookies—she herself had put them there to appease her pixie taskmasters hours before. “You do realize I actually don’t care for dessert,” she reminded him. “Then be thou not obligated to accept mine offer,” he said. “Wilt thou take tea, at least?” “That much I can do,” Shasi said, nodding.

He went to pick through the vessels and dishware that cluttered a set of shelves against one wall, and Shasi watched him putter about a bit before she cast her gaze over the rest of the room. It was hard to imagine it as a hunting lodge—three years of the detritus of Urianger’s residency had all but obliterated any sign of its original purpose. The only tell was the stuffed head mounted in the cupola, which looked rather well-preserved given its presumed age. He was settling in well here, and the thought tore her heart. It felt, she decided, just like the same terrible shock that had come when she had absorbed the Lightwarden’s essence.

She was stirred from her reverie by the sound of him setting a cup before her, and she turned her face back toward him and smiled. “Full glad am I to see you, my lady,” he said. She did not know what to say to that, so she scalded her tongue with too-hot tea instead. After a moment of panting, wincing at her own recklessness, she had it. Or at least she had something. “Were I not to arrive,” she said, “it would fall to Minfilia to avert your prophecy, wouldn’t it.” He visibly winced. “Thou art correct,” he said at length. “On that matter we were not all agreed, but Master Thancred ever endeavored to convince us.” “He is different too,” she said absently, though it made her no gladder to note than had the change in Urianger—and he, at least, seemed happy. “Well,” she said, clearing her throat. “I am come, and the work already begun. So there’s that to be glad of, at least.” Urianger regarded her a long moment, setting his cookie back down on the plate before him. “As thou sayest,” he replied. There was a glumness in his tone which matched his dispirited expression. Perhaps he had gotten too used to the shield of his obscurity, to wear his emotions so openly. “My lady,” he said after a moment, and there was something tentative about it. “What is it, Urianger?” she asked. She could not afford to bear her reactions so openly, and so she did her best to keep the weariness from her tone. It was not Urianger’s fault she had been called to this world, after all—though she did not doubt but that he blamed himself, after all that had transpired with Elidibus. “I am glad to see thee,” he said, “foremost because thou art my friend. The loss of Eorzea’s champions I have weathered ere now—my mentor and my friend; I count too among these tragedies thy peer, a loss so complete that even now I cannot speak that absent hero’s name. While I would do all within my power to save thee for the realm’s sake, I would count myself glad to spare thee such misfortune for nothing more than the sake of thy place in my regard.”

It was not merely his face and arms that he had stripped bare, then. He seemed altogether too naked then, though nothing of his physical aspect had changed. She could not hold his gaze then, though to tear her attention from his golden eyes was to turn it upon this house which belonged to him so utterly that it was written in every ilm of it.

She wanted to flee into the night—but first she would have to restore the night to this place to manage it. So she stood, and drank the rest of her tea in one too-long pull. “Thank you, Urianger.” The words were stilted in her throat, but if he made any reply she did not stay long enough to hear it.

For a mercy, he did not pursue her, and when she closed the door behind herself she was shut too of him, and of that terrible, comfortable place. She fixed her eyes upon the blazing sky above, and realized her breathing had grown shallow, as though the few yalms she had sprinted to the door were malms instead.

“There you are!” came a voice, and a pixie flitted into view. “You are Feo Ul’s pactmate, aren’t you?” Shasi regarded the pixie with cold eyes. She imagined the pranks to come, and found her mood blacker than ever. Still, should worse come to worst, she could invoke that bond. Shasi nodded. “Can you swim?” they wondered. “There is a particular plant that grows in the water. We trade with the Fuath for it, usually, but maybe you could harvest some?” She considered the question. A refusal rose to the tip of her tongue—Fray’s answer, like as not; she had yet to decide on her own. She would rather work than think, and she still needed the pixies’ gratitude if she thought to enter Lyhe Ghiah. “What plant? What does it look like?” she asked. “It’s very pretty,” they said. “It has big fronds and grows flowers when it reaches the surface. The Fuath call it whirlweed. I need the whole plant, even the bulb.” “Fine,” Shasi said, and made for the lake.

It was dim and cool in the water, and there was a strange relief in letting it flood her lungs. But then she was alone with the work, and with her thoughts. And with Fray, too, who said nothing, but she could feel him stirring in her heart as he often did when her emotions had run high.

She walked among the weeds, in the sparkling water, and if the Fuath watched, she did not see them. She thought of Thancred, and of Minfilia—the young Minfilia, the one who resided in this world and who looked at her with the same clouded crystal eyes as the Antecedent. There would be no passing this cup to her—not even something so small as what she did now. After all, Shasi doubted she could breathe underwater.

The whirlweed grew almost as tall as Shasi herself, its central stalk buoyed upward toward the surface by translucent pods. There were buds at the end of its stalk, small and not ready to open, but she imagined that when they reached the surface they would unfurl. Its long fronds wrapped around her arms as she uprooted it, pulling it easily from the silty bottom of the lake. She collected a half-dozen and decided that was more than enough.

The plants went limp in her arms as she surfaced, and she carried them awkwardly, like one might a sleeping child. Water dripped from her, blurring her vision, but she kept an eye out for her pixie taskmaster. She found them back by the Bookman’s Shelves, though she approached on timorous feet.

“Don’t worry,” they said. “Urianger is out. Now we can prank him!” She was in little mood for that, though, so instead she said only, “What do you want with these?” The pixie flitted closer, stretching out one little hand. “I’ll enchant the bulbs,” they said, and a moment later the plants seemed to change in her arms, growing more rigid. Better suited for land. “While you were getting them, I dug up some of the earth. We’re going to plant these, and he’ll be so confused when he sees water plants growing in front of his house!”

They laughed, but Shasi only staggered toward one of the little beds the pixie had dug. She set the whirlweeds aside, and they stood tall, swaying gently in the breeze. Shasi looked at the tilled soil, and the plants, and the house, and refused to call it by its name. If she had learned anything from the fae it was that there was far too much power in names.

“Just drop them in,” the pixie urged. Shasi closed a hand about the base of one plant, but found she could move no further. It was no enchantment that had her spellbound, nor had the fronds of the weed wrapped about her limbs again, she simply could not bear the thought of planting this yard. Hot tears joined the cold water already on her cheeks, and she felt the stirring of the air as the pixie drew near. “Does going in the water make your eyes leak like that?” they wondered. “You mortals are so strange! Next time I’ll just ask the Fuath!”

Shasi had no retort for that. Minfilia had likened the pixies to children not long after their arrival, and how could Shasi explain that she wept? Moreover, how could she give voice to the reasons why? She shook her head. To plant these flowers was to give this dwelling another name—a name she did not wish it to have. It was to make this place Urianger’s home, and to assume that he would be there to see these plants bloom. If she knelt to plant flowers for him anywhere, it should have been before the Waking Sands, though she would have been gladder still if he had adjourned to the Stones with the rest of them.

But she had her work, and that was far more important than her feelings, so she mounded soil around the fragile plants, and watered them with her tears.

#ff14 #FFXIVWrite2019 #urianger augurelt #x'shasi #original content #starcunning writes #x'shasi ♦ urianger #this wasn't quite what i set out to write but i'm fond of it just the same #shadowbringers spoilers

[ladyramora]

It starts with a bar fight.

Ramora, drunk enough to ignore her Echo, and angry with her situation and the general way life - or the Gods, or Fate, or what-the-fuck ever - seemed to seemed to want to screw her over. What does she do? She does what she does best. She makes it worse because that's what she's good at.

She starts the fight.

Sometimes the biggest, angriest looking guy in the establishment is the most sensitive, and insulting him only makes him burst into tears with the "last bloody straw!"

Damn, was he having a bad day, too? Ramora just feels like an asshole until his friends jump to his defense and start swinging.

There's glass in her hair from where more than one angry patron tried to take her out with a bottle. It only made her smell like ale, and left her feeling just a tick more annoyed.

"I'm sorry I made you cry," Ramora says to the actually not so grumpy looking Roegadyn man, in between punching and kneeing his midlander buddies in the face and stomach respectively, and sending them stumbling into each other.

"I didn't mean any of the rude things I said," Ramora continues, tripping one mindlander when he gets back up and making him fall into the other. "I was just trying to make you angry enough to start a fight."

The Roegadyn's face crumples again with tears as he buries his face in his hands and bawls, "It's all right, I've just," sob, deep shuddering sigh, "had a rough couple of days!"

Ramora frowns, patting him gently on the shoulder and getting walloped in the face for her inattention. She can feel her nose crunch, wetness dripping over her lips. That'll hurt to fix later.

One tries to grab hold of her from behind, but Ramora flips him over her shoulder to land flat on his back on the tavern floor. The other straight on tackles her, going for her middle, but not getting far as Ramora digs her heels in and bends forward to grasp him by the waist, disrupting his grip and tossing him away. It was unfair to them, really, being that she was so much taller. Well, that, and a slayer of actual Gods.

"Do you wanna talk about your feelings?" The Roegadyn says with a tearful frown, "You seem real angry, lady. It might help to let it out?"

Ramora pauses. "I've got some heavy troubles, buddy. I think I prefer the violent method of venting."

The Roegadyn sighs, shrugging his shoulders and scrubbing away his tears on his sleeve. "Suit yourself."

Suddenly the other two get wise, ganging up in her instead of coming one at a time, and grasp her arms before she can send them stumbling away again.

Ramora grunts as the Roegadyn catches her by the collar, yanking her in as he raises his fist. He smiles sheepishly. "I know you already apologized, but mind if I hit you a few times anyways? This is the most stress relief I've had in a bloody fortnight."

Ramora shrugs even as she scrabbles at his hand fisted in her coat. "Sure, buddy, that's the idea!" It should be concerning that Ramora preferred being punched in the face over talking about her feelings, but here she was.

The Roegadyn beams and Ramora thinks she might've just made a new friend as he makes like he said and punches her across the face.

Ramora tongues her teeth in surprise, lip definitely split. "Nice punch," She says in mild praise.

The Roegadyn laughs, "Thanks," and raises his arm to do it again.

"Enough!" The Barkeep roars, shooting into the ceiling with a pistol.

They all freeze.

"You!" The Barkeep snaps, stabbing his finger in Ramora's direction. "I've had about enough o' you comin' in here to start fights! Yer disturbin' my clientele and wreckin' my establishment!"

Ramora grimaces. "Sorry? It won't happen again?"

The Barkeep's eye twitches, face flushing bright red with a vein bulging in his forehead. "That's what you say every bloody time! I'm done forgiving you! Get out, and take yer new friends with ya!"

"Can I get some ice for my face?" Ramora asks meekly.

If looks could kill. "Get!"

Ramora and her brawling partners scramble to comply.

- - -

Ramora sighs, sitting in a filthy alley just outside the bar, alone now. Her new friends having taken their leave after much apologies all around.

"Look at you," She grumbles to herself. "Can't even start a bar fight properly. Your life is going to Hell. Guess that's what you get for making a deal with an Ascian."

Ramora buries her face in her hands, the heavy pressure of tears building behind her eyelids.

A shadow falls over her, and Ramora does not look up.

"What a sad sight you are," A familiar voice drawls.

Ramora laughs wetly. "Go away, Elidibus."

There's a heavy pause.

"Have I been gone for so long that you've forgotten my name, woman?"

Ramora freezes, head jerking up in shock as hot tears stream down her bruised and bloodied face.

"...Zenos?"

An Elezen man stares down at her, his face hidden from view by the shadow of his hood. But the golden locks of hair spilling out of his coat were far too rich in shade to belong to any Elezen Ramora had ever met. And that voice, Gods, Ramora knew that voice. She dreamed of that voice.

The Elezen kneels down in front of her, pulling back his hood.

His face - Zenos's face - staring out at her from an Elezen body.

"You died," Ramora mutters thickly, holding herself taught, carefully apart, so as not to touch him, or heavens forfend, throw herself into his arms and bawl her eyes out.

He is your enemy, Ramora has to remind herself. He never cared about you. It had been naught but a manipulation on Elidibus's part.

Zenos smiles that same smile, languid and deliciously wicked. "I got better."

Ramora bites her lip, her eyes still hopelessly leaking. He must think her so weak, witnessing her in such a state."I can see that."

Zenos reaches out a hand, hardly pausing at Ramora's instinctual flinch, and grasps her wrist. Ramora blinks, very much confused, as Zenos drops a wrapped bundle of ice into her palm.

"For your face, my beast," Zenos says dryly. He does not comment on her tears.

"To think you let those unworthy fools strike you. Did it bring you relief? Forcing yourself so. Holding back so as not to kill those insignificant savages by accident? Did your blood sing as it did when we last fought?"

Ramora's more than certain his bout of questioning is rhetorical, so she says nothing.

His lip curls, the shake of his head sending golden hair spilling free from being tucked in his coat to swish around his face, "Nay, I should very much think not."

Ramora gapes at him, mouth dry and hand slowly beginning to burn from the chill of the ice in her palm. "...I felt nothing."

There was no release. No rush of blood as Zenos had claimed before. There had only been half-hearted violence, and ignoring her Echo so as to allow herself to be struck. To feel pain rather than feel nothing at all. Ramora did not wish to become numb again. Apathy was very hard to shake.

Zenos leans in, capturing her chin between his fingers. "Good. The right is mine, beast. I am your opponent. I am the only one who can give you such."

Ramora quirks a smile through the sting of her split lip. "Is that your way of telling me you want to go steady?"

Zenos grasps her by the collar and Ramora gives a soft, hissing gasp as he leans in, parts those perfect lips of his, and licks a stripe up from her chin over her lips with a velvety, warm tongue. Tasting the blood coating her skin.

What a weirdo. Yet Ramora would be lying if she said his particular brand of weirdness didn't make her hot.

There is a fire in her blood now as Zenos pulls back, seeming satisfied at the expression on her face. His voice a rumbly, satisfied growl liken to a coeurl's purr. "Your blood is mine, woman."

"Ramora," Is all Ramora can croak in response, a desperate sort of plea in the raspy quality of her voice.

Though his expression does not change, his eyes darken with heat. "Ramora," he says, obliging to her wordless plea, drawing the word out in that growling purr.

Ramora closes her eyes, swallowing thickly as she allows the sound to roll over her. To have Zenos - the real one - finally say her name was... Well, it was pretty damned good.

When she opens her eyes again, Zenos is gazing at her most peculiarly.

Peculiar only because this was Zenos. Actual Zenos, no matter what body he was in, and he was looking at her like...

Like he could devour her. Like Ramora was the most sumptuous feast he had ever laid eyes upon and he could not wait to sink his teeth in.

"What's with that look?" Ramora asks him, very much against her better judgement.

His hands circle her wrists, her ice falling to the wayside as Zenos yanks her close. "I finally caught up to you, my beast," he smiles smugly, gazing at her through the fan of his eyelashes, "Ramora. And now I'll not let you escape me again."

Ramora feels dazed by the heat of him, the heady feeling of him so close that she could touch, the scent of his skin and of his beautiful hair. Yet, "Uh, not to point fingers, but you were the one who tried - and succeeded in - killing yourself. I wasn't trying to escape. You did."

And now an Ascian - and not just any Ascian, the bloody Emissary! - was walking around in his body.

Zenos hisses a guttural sigh, his hands tightening about her wrists as he pulls her closer still. Any further and she'd be straddling his lap. "I was rash in mine decision," Zenos admits. "I made a mistake. Now I mean to fix it "

Ramora quirks a brow. Did he now.

"There's an Ascian wearing your face. Your whole body. Doing things you probably wouldn't do." Like me, Ramora doesn't say.

How would she broach that subject even?

Hey Zenos, good to see you hale and whole. I have disgustingly tender emotions for you and I've been fraternizing with the Ascian wearing your body while you've been gone. No hard feelings, right?

That would go over well.

Instead Ramora only reaches for the discarded bit of ice he had brought, brushing off the cloth before resting the cold lump against her aching face.

"What do we do now?" Ramora asks.

If Zenos is surprised by her use of "we", he gives no visible reaction of it.

Zenos only smiles, blue eyes gleaming with that particular monstrous quality she had missed from being around Elidibus in his body for so long.

"All in due time, my beast."

"Now," he leans in, smiling slow.

"Did you miss me?"

#ladyramora writes #ramora d'aubigne #zenos yae galvus #ram x zenos #ffxiv 4.4 spoilers #ffxiv spoilers #ffxiv stormblood spoilers #i wanted to write ram meeting elezenos #and attempt writing a fight scene #will readmore later #cannot on mobile #mayhap a continuation of the elidibus bit? #rough n tough roes can have feelings #men can cry #ram is bad at feelings #cursing #violence #adult themes

[brightblessed]

@dutysend​ said:  ❝ i know who you are. what you are. ❞

[ Clearing out old messages. ]

╰◌♞

  The word BEAST suited him better than CHAMPION. The word KILLER fit better than HERO. And SWORD was better than WARRIOR. Mayhap that was his destiny, created even by Hydaelyn Herself. Her chosen, forged in blood and fire. Made with sorrow and rage. His will may or may not be his own, but this HATRED was HIS. The white-hot anger he felt as he saw this BASTARD using his friend’s body. He had been USED enough. Adrbert had SUFFERED enough. And this coward was so low as to create illusions of those he loved to SLAY. He did so, despite his shaking. Despite the hurt. Just like always, he fought through the pain and the fear. He fought. One foot in front of the other. Keep moving. Keep fighting. Like a good warrior. Like a good WEAPON. 

  Hatred burned in his eyes. He pitied them, he really did. The isolation and loss. He can understand to an extent. He had lost his family and it changed him so much that he didn’t even know who he was before that. They had lost more than he had. And yet, he was moving on. They refused. Claimed those he loved had no right to exist. As finite as their existences were, he knew they mattered. Every smile. Every tear. He would never allow the Ascians to win. Because he SWORE to protect those he held dear. And in that was, Elidibus was correct. There was no compromise. There was no middle ground. There one only one living and the other dying. 

 “Yeah. You do.” He says, his tone calm despite the storm beneath his skin. More than almost anyone, he did. Roi was not ignorant to his nature, nor his role. “Everything you said is true.” He HATES himself for it. He truly does. Roi Coello is an ugly person. Despite what people say, he is no hero. They cannot see the darkness inside his heart. But if he can wield his rage as a weapon and use his pain as a shield, he will protect those he can. 

 “But what about you? You’re no saint. If you think I will hesitate to KILL you, you’re wrong. Or maybe you should ask Emet-Selch or Lahabrea, ASCIAN.” His venom is only partly for his enemy. Much of the hate is for HIMSELF. But if he can use it against the other, he will. 

#dutysend #⌈ ♞ ⌉ ic. || ˟ –––– crawling in the dark #⌈ ♞ ⌉ shadowbringers. || ˟ –––– become what you must #not even gonna queue this just gonna post bc i never get to write him #being nasty to people #⌈ ♞ ⌉ answers. || ˟ –––– I told you I'd spill my guts; I left you to clean it up

[thecat-inthehat]

23. Shuffle

I’m supposed to be asleep already fuckkkkkkk i’ve got WORK tomorrow

----

The distinctive thwap of cards being shuffled echoed throughout the Bookman’s shelves, and Helisent watched as Nive carefully selected a card and laid it down onto the table. Next to her, Urianger brought his hand to his chin, considering the card closely. Neither spoke a word, merely considering the complex cross pattern they were creating on the table. Urianger waited for a moment, and then pulled out his own card from his deck, and set it down, laying it perpendicular to the one Nive had placed. 

“What are they doing…?” Minfilia asked quietly, coming to sit next to Helisent. She had one of the mysterious “cartridges” between her fingers, flipping it over and over in her hand, and it glowed slightly as she channeled aether into it. “I’ve seen Urianger use cards before, and even predict a few future events, but nothing like this.” 

Hel grinned slightly, and her fingers didn’t waver from the stitching she was working on. “A twelve scale divination. Each of their ‘combat decks’ has eighteen cards, with three of each of the set of six, and they can use those to perform a divination with twelve cards.” 

Minfilia frowned slightly, tilting her head. “I thought the ‘twelve’ was an important number for Eorzeans, isn’t it? So shouldn’t they have twelve cards in their combat decks?” 

“I asked that too,” Hel admitted, looping one of the stitches around the leather she was fixing. “Nive said that her deck is printed upright, reversed, and on it’s side, corresponding to Solar, Lunar, and Celestial seals. Combat wise, they all do the same thing, with the Ewer making magic come easier, or the Bole bolstering defense, but with minute differences. To perform a basic divination, an Astrologian needs one of each seal.” 

“Multiples of three, then?” Minfilia asked, squinting at the cards that lay on the table. “Because three goes into twelve four times, and then out of a deck of eighteen cards…” 

“Admittedly it’s a lot more math than I’m comfortable with,” Hel shrugged. “Astromancy toes the line between art and science, with a lot of math involved. Urianger’s good, but Nive is better.” 

Minfilia looked up at that, her crystal-sapphire eyes widening, and Hel had to fight to keep the instinctual shudder out of her shoulders. From a distance, they were almost like dunesfolk eyes, but this close it was clear that they were otherworldly and unnatural. 

“But Nive uses arc--arcanima? Was that it? I thought she only did damage with the pets that follow her around, like those carbuncles.” She asked, more confused than before. 

“Nive has a bloodline heritage,” a new voice said, coming closer to them. Hel and Minfilia looked up to see Shining set her pack and bow down, and then give a groan as she sat on the couch next to them. 

“A… bloodline heritage?” Minfilia asked, frowning in confusion. “Do you mean that she’s descended from a line of Astrologians?” 

Shining smiled at her, giving a nod. “Aye. Nive’s mother, and her mother’s mother, they were all Astrologians, and had a history. Nive’s deck was actually her mother’s, which is why it’s a little more worn than Urianger’s.” 

“If you have a family that tends to specialize in a certain branch of magic over the course of generations, then eventually even the ‘weakest’ members of that family can have a lot of innate power,” Helisent explained. “Granted, that tends to mean that they can become overspecialized, and have a hard time learning any other branches, but the talent is there. Nive could predict the future when we were eight, and just seem to know things by looking at the stars.”

“But she … doesn’t use it. I didn’t even realize she could use cards like Urianger until he asked her for help with a divination.” Minfilia said, swinging her head left and right to look at both women. 

“Mmhm,” Shining nodded. “She was never formally trained, and had to figure out a lot of stuff on her own, or by asking Sharlayan Astrologians. She knew the basics, and had an innate talent, but she had already settled on Arcanima as her primary tool by the time she really learned.” 

“That isn’t to say she’s not capable, though,” Hel murmured, looking over at the two Astrologians pouring over the card that was just placed. Nive’s tail twitched, then twitched the other direction. “She’s just as good a healer as I am, and she’s very quick with her cards, she thinks fast. But ultimately, her talents lie in defeating the enemies we encounter, while mine are better suited to heal.” 

Shining gave a shrug, and reached for the table, grabbing one of the muffins the pixies had produced for them all. Hel wouldn’t touch it, but Shining had apparently made friends with many of the fae in the years that she had been on the First. She took a bite and chewed thoughtfully, watching the divination as well, and then looked back at Minfilia. “If you want another example, my songs are a gift of my bloodline heritage. And if you squint, your powers as the Oracle could be considered something similar.” 

Minfilia tilted her head, kicking her feet slightly. “Really? I thought I had heard multiple voices singing with you before…” 

Shining nodded, finishing off her muffin. It was made hyur sized, and didn’t last more than a couple bites. “Mmhm. My ancestors all sing through me, and when I pass on into the Lifestream, my own voice will join to the chorus. But ultimately I’m more like Nive -- I don’t really use my talents, or I push them to work for something else. Out of the three of us, I’m the most magically powerful, but I don’t cast straight spells often.” 

“And by a large margin, too,” Hel said, poking another hole through the leather, and sewing some more pieces together. “Circumstances of her conception, and all that.” 

“We’re not talking about my parents having crazy wild drunk sex,” Shining deadpanned. 

Minfilia squawked, a blush rising to her cheeks, and she covered her mouth. The motion was so like Minfilia that Helisent had to look away, knowing that she couldn’t afford to see her friend in the child’s face. It wasn’t fair. To … anyone, really. 

“Yes, please, let’s not talk about that,” Hel rolled her eyes, and held up the harness she was almost done with. “Minfilia, could you stand? I want to make sure I got your measurements right.” 

Minfilia blinked in surprise, and gently set down the cartridge, going to stand. “You … made something for me?” 

“Mmhm. Lift up your arms?” Hel let the harness hover over Minfilia’s shoulders, and nodded. “Alright, almost done. Thancred said you had lost most of your gear after the Eulmorans captured you, and the Mean only had time to make you the daggers and some basics.” 

Minfilia’s face fell, and she opened her mouth to apologize, when Shining gently put a finger to her lips. 

“Helisent didn’t do this out of any sort of admonishment. She saw that you needed gear, and made it for you. You don’t need to apologize for getting captured. We’ve all been in bad situations before.” Shining smiled gently, and squeezed her shoulder. 

“A-alright,” Minfilia said, clearly unsure of what to say. She twisted her fingers together, and then nodded, deciding to simply sit down again. “Thank you.” 

“Eh, I wouldn’t say it’s as good as the stuff in the Mean,” Helisent shrugged, and ruffled Minfilia’s hair. “But Shining was able to barter for some glider skins, and I thought you could use some more protection than just the dress and shorts.” 

“My thanks, Helisent,” Urianger called across the room, looking up briefly from the divination. “Words ill convey the feverish worry that overcame me upon seeing Minfilia without her proper vestments.” 

“I’m not that great, but I can at least make some decent protective gear,” Hel shrugged, and stuck her tongue out between her teeth as she finangled with a more tricky stitch. “Really, though, it’s kind of--” 

Nive’s sudden gasp cut her off, and instantly Shining, Helisent, and Minfilia were all crowded around the table, looking at the haphazard mess of cards. Urianger’s attention was stolen back to the cards as well, and his lips pulled down into a frown. 

“Forgive me, but I do not see…” He started, tracing his finger along the lines. A reverse Bole, a reverse Spire, and Nive had just laid down a reverse Ewer. The Ewer laid at the top of the triangle, pointing the whole trifecta upwards. 

“... That’s bad, right?” Shining asked, her brows furrowing together. 

Nive inhaled, and stepped back from the table slightly, going to rub her temples. “It depends, but … generally, yeah. It’s bad. Reverse cards, all with ‘dark’ aspected elements, with them coming out on top of the rest of the divination…” 

“What’re we in for?” Helisent asked, looking down at the cards. Urianger’s set was beautiful and new, but the art was made by someone who didn’t understand what he had been asking for, and could only replicate it as best as they were able. Nive’s set was worn and old, but each card was tangibly hers, with a sort of history and weight to them that seemed to demand attention. 

“If I had to hazard a guess,” Nive started, her tail waving just slightly, “we’re being followed by an Ascian. And not just any Ascian, but a red mask. I’d … probably go so far as to say someone on par with Lahabrea, or Elidibus.” 

“Lahabrea was a chump, though,” Hel protested. 

“A chump that only died after he was battered and broken by us, and then slain by a primal fueled by two of Nidhogg’s eyes and a millennia of prayer,” Nive reminded her darkly. “And that was after we had forcibly expelled him from Thancred, and sent him fleeing back to the Rift. We seriously wounded him at the Praetorium, and he must have been still recovering from that.” 

“I love hearing about your wacky adventures when I wasn’t there,” Shining muttered. “So what, another Ascian is coming for us? It’ll die like the rest.” 

“... You didn’t have to fight Elidibus,” Hel muttered, hugging herself as she tried not to recall the memory. 

“Whatever is coming for us, we need to be ready,” Nive said firmly. “Take extra precautions, check people’s shadows to make sure they have one. We’re trying to prevent a Calamity, and that’s the Ascian’s number one goal. Of course we’re going to find one skulking about.” 

Shining snorted, giving a small shrug. “Well… Whoever they are, I hope they’re at least amusing.” 

#ffxivwrite2020 #the girls #The Daedalus Project #it's not often i write them all interacting #ast things #behold my headcanons #and see that i cling to 4.0 ast card mechs #i do like the seal system for added rp Flavor tho #Ryne #Urianger #Creator Writes