#do you think he knew about Shadowbringers? do you think he knew his children were in a coma IN YOUR CARE?

[bride-and-bride]

Saw a neat Fourcheanult post about the ways in which he sucks but tragically I cannot reblog without at least SOME analysis on how the loss of Louisoix would impact his choices and views on his children's actions

#im telling you like #your dad might even KNOW the end is coming one day but he goes to help Eorzea because it's the right thing to do #and you don't agree that it's a priority (the world will end!!) but your father is smart and he's skilled and you say goodbye when he leaves #and then he dies. he dies and no one knows what happened he is simply gone in a flash. his plan to save eorzea? #it worked in that Eorzea exists but the land is DEVESTATED and will never be the same and he IS GONE #and YES when your kids want to visit the land he saved you let them go (but they better write their mother) #and they are doing amazing things but they are your BABIES and my god! what is happening to them??? #do you think he knew about Shadowbringers? do you think he knew his children were in a coma IN YOUR CARE? #and then he tries to disown his kids because maybe this will keep them from trying to save the world #and keep them from throwing their lives away #because all he wants is for them to live. even if they hate him #even if they never look at him again. they'll be alive.

[pocketbelt]

they announced one of the main writers for FFXIV: Dawntrail is the one who wrote the Shadowbringers trial series, "Sorrow of Werlyt", and the amount of people going "ew no that's the one that redeems Gaius" drives me kind of insane

That storyline takes Gaius and says "Behold this idiot, watch and be stunned as everything he ever said to anyone turned out to be fucking obviously wrong. Watch as the fascist imperialist philosophy he ingrained into his beloved children makes them run to their deaths, even as he pleads them not to, and they tell him to fuck himself and do it anyway. Marvel as he watches them die by your hand, you, who destroyed Gaius himself at the peak of his life, and he can do nothing to stop it", and that's a redemption arc to people

The only surviving kid only makes it because her brother acts to protect her, she doesn't make it because of any act of Gaius'

The entire story is literally "In case you somehow missed it in ARR and most of Stormblood, everything Gaius believed in was horseshit and there's no such thing as a 'noble general in the evil empire'". All his meritocracy bullshit vanished the second he was gone, no-one but his own children believed it or held onto it, and the empire put someone directly opposed to that belief into his old seat when he vanished. No-one cared, no-one else "believed", the Empire was never about that, it was only propped up in his own singular legion by him being there and the second he was gone the legion dumped it and moved on and only Gaius was too naive and stupid to see it.

I mean for fuck sake, the Empire digs up the chemical gas weapon he explicitly had sealed away and destroyed all record of after he's gone and if it wasn't for a particularly dedicated and enterprising catboy and his comedy crew of hardcore engineers, it would have caused the eighth apocalypse

Even the follow-up in patch 6.4, of the family portrait, isn't some "aw he good now" thing. The family portrait you help organise for him has to have four of its six members be projected onto the scene via a machine's reconstruction of them as normal people because they're dead, they threw their lives away because the ideology Gaius taught them meant they could only think to die fighting and nothing else. That's his loving family portrait: four ghosts stood at his back as his last living child smiles through her pain.

"well the people of Werlyt didn't kill him for conquering them" they let him clean up the mess he made (which meant watching his children be killed) and as "thanks" they're letting him stay there to live out the last third of his life or so attempting to atone by fixing the damage he did.

He's 56 at the time of ARR; the Empire he gave 3-4 decades of his life to is gone, it's a smouldering ruin, all but one of the people he loved is dead, his surviving daughter is scarred by the path he led her down, and what few friends he had are also dead. He learned that his beliefs were all horseshit and pretty much everyone around him except for himself knew it, he must live knowing that those beliefs got his children killed, all that he achieved that he once considered "good" was for nothing, he learned that the cool old emperor he idolised who had no magic but built an empire by pulling up his bootstraps and who told him that magic and gods were bad was actually an ancient incredibly magical sorceror attempting to resurrect his own god.

That's not a redemption arc, he's the most owned man still alive in XIV

#ffxiv #pocket post

[autumnslance]

Year of the OTP - November 2023 - Missing Scars

(An unusual look at the "De-aging" prompt, perhaps, but Shadowbringers' resolution for the Scions sits with me. 980 words.)

The differences were so subtle, it was difficult to explain. Six years all told had passed, which was not many, but just enough.

In six years in the First, he had watched children and adolescents grow up—had watched Ryne grow up, most importantly. Yet now, looking out over the Toll, local children exactly as he remembered them played in the yards and through the streets of their small frontier town.

Animals too; six years could be quite some time for many a beloved pet or farm animal. In dangerous lands and uncertain areas, six years was an entire lifetime for many. Yet the same dogs and cats scampered through the Toll after their masters.

The external similarities, where he expected changes, were not the only ones, of course. He turned back to the hand mirror and inspected his eye once more.

After his misadventure in the Lifestream, and all that had followed in Coerthas, and then their participation in liberating Ala Mhigo, he just hadn’t taken the time to let it rest and heal. The best he had done, that he could do, for so long was to keep it covered and unused, or at least as little as possible. His depth perception had suffered, and even now he had to practice to get back to using both his eyes, instead of compensating for missing one.

His body’s enforced slumber, tended to by their excellent healing staff, had finally allowed the aetheric damage time to heal. He didn’t see so much as a wisp of aetheric underlay, there was no eye strain, no clouded vision. He had been concerned about that, returning from the First to his own body once again. But the damage was finally healed.

A few other aches and pains he thought he ought to have seemed to have vanished as well; he couldn’t be certain if it was due to the rest, or if their healer team had taken advantage of his soul’s absence to repair some old damages.

Not to mention missing scars; he knew when he had arrived in the First, his mental image of his Self had neglected a few minor ones, or those he did not see and think about often.

Aeryn had noticed. The first time they were together as lovers again, she had noted the differences in his scars; some missing, some new—to her anyroad, there in Norvrandt, and his misadventures over the years he had spent caring for Ryne while missing Aeryn.

He had not asked yet about the changes to his scars again now. The ones they had forgotten, the ones that were now missing—all the evidence of his time in that other realm. Scars were stories, and so he had always been proud of his. Evidence of times he had survived, his years of experiences.

Six years wiped away and lost forever.

He finished shaving, cleaning and packing away his kit, tossing the soapy water. “You look years younger, clean-shaven and with your hair cut” more than one person had told him, in more or less those words. He had, perhaps, let himself go a bit, after Dravania.

After the Antitower.

Aeryn had never minded the stubble and long hair, but Ryne had quietly bullied him into shaving and trimming up. And it had made him look more fitting to be her guardian in the First, rather than a rough wilderness scout.

He turned, and found Aeryn silently watching him now, arms crossed, leaning on the doorway as he stood on the small balcony. “The washroom not bright enough?” she asked.

He shrugged. “That, and I didn’t want to disturb you, sleepyhead.”

“As if I ever mind being woken by you,” she pouted.

“Oh, you mind. I simply know best how to distract you from your ire,” he teased.

She blushed, as he knew she would, tracing her finger down an old scar on his bare chest. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Fit as a fiddle—though we shall see if Krile agrees, and allows me to train with Radovan yet.”

“Just don’t overdo it, old man,” she joked.

“Oh, don’t you start that again,” he grumbled as she giggled. He frowned, looking down and away in thought. “I do keep forgetting how old I am now. I have to think about it.”

Her fingertip hooked under his chin, turning his gaze back to her lovely gray eyes. “Old enough,” she said gently, pulling him in for a kiss.

He hummed thoughtfully as they broke, leaning his forehead on hers. “There is some time before I’m due to see our healers,” he noted. “Perhaps a private demonstration of just how young and healthy I feel right now is in order.”

“You’re incorrigible,” she murmured, blush tinging her ears now. She traced another scar, still reacquainting herself with his reset appearance.

“That isn’t a no,” he pointed out, slipping his hand under her shirt to touch her skin, fingertips finding a scar that she had earned in the First, that she got to keep, having been there in both body and soul, only five physical years between them now instead of six. It wasn’t much time at all really, and yet—

His thoughts came to a stop as she pulled away, clasping his hand to draw him after her. Her face was very red now, the ease with which her blush appeared ever endearing. “It wasn’t, and there is time,” she said.

Five of those years had been spent missing her. There had been an underlying fear of growing old—worse, growing old without her.

But only a handful of moons had passed in the Source, those years he spent in the First reset, only the memories good and bad remaining. And here she yet was, here they both were, finding what had changed and what remained the same for all those years that had passed in no time at all.

#final fantasy xiv #lyn writing #lyn edits #YOTP 2023 #Shadowbringers #Thancred Waters #Thancred x WoL #wolcred #shippy nonsense #Aeryn Striker

[headcanons-n-shit]

Hi and welcome to "thinking about my deeply eldritch azem at 2am again"

Thinking about the first time Venat finds Atreus, this creature of pure Creation given sentience and form, kneeling in the ruin of what will later become known as the beginning of the final days. Its wings look like peacock feathers, an eye for each feather, except the eyes are real and every single one of them is weeping because these were its creations, its beautiful children, and now everything is gone here, scorched down to the smallest creatures of the soil, and in the cage of its chest its heart is breaking.

And then thinking about the last time Hades sees Atreus, it is buying time for Venat to become Hydaelyn, wings spread wide and every eye weeping and heart shattered in its chest because "you promised, you promised, and you lied. You would destroy everything we have built together, the precious things we Created together between our hands. you, Emet-Selch, traitor, betrayer, you are not the man I loved."

Idk even if Atreus is woken up in Shadowbringers, or in Endwalker, there wouldnt be forgiveness for Emet-Selch. Maybe for Hythlodaeus- who gave himself up willingly to spare his lovers- and maybe even for Elidibus- who was too young, too impressionable, who in Atreus's opinion never should have been on the Convocation in the first place. Definitely for Fandaniel, and for Hermes who he used to be. But Emet-Selch?

Hades knew what he was doing, what living vows he would be breaking, and he broke them anyways, time and time again. Atreus doesnt forgive that easily.

(And i honestly dont think it ever really will)

#ff14 #ff14 headcanons #oc: atreus dawnseeker #emet selch #emetazem #emetwol #kinda

[crystalbahamut]

become the night

FFXIV Write Day 6: Avatar

Summary: Eulmore has captured its most hated villain. If they want you to be the Warrior of Darkness so badly, then perhaps you will oblige them.

Author’s note: AU thing (I guess?) where WoL is captured by Eulmore having defeated maybe two or three Lightwardens? I’m not sure. Also it’s definitely more AUish in that WoL can better channel the power of the light. I just like the idea of using the dark to filter it– sort of moon-like. I don’t know where this came from but it felt like a neat idea, even if I could only manage a small snippet of what feels like could be a larger whole.

Warnings: Shadowbringers spoilers, some violence, unspecified/ambiguous WoL/D, not dark knight main but dips into it, playing a little bit loose with aether/magic abilities

Words: 1,469

---

“Is the food not to your liking?”

Vauthry is a disgusting man taking advantage of people within and without his city and yet treating you to a saccharine tone like an honored dinner guest. And, as a most exceptional dinner guest, you are sat next to General Ran’jit and attended by no less than eight guards with various sharp objects just waiting for you to breathe wrong.

The situation doesn’t tend to work up much of an appetite.

“I don’t eat food prepared by people I don’t trust,” you say.

“Oh come now. If I wanted you dead, you already would be,” Vauthry says and takes a long swig of his wine.

He would think that. But if you hadn't had to sacrifice yourself to keep Ran’jit from getting Minfilia, you wouldn’t be here, and you know that. “Why am I alive then?” you ask. “I loathe you and I’m fairly certain the feeling must be mutual, given how far you’ve gone to keep me from killing the other monsters blighting this world.”

“No no no,” he says and sets his goblet aside. “You are simply…misguided. The Crystal Exarch has been feeding you lies and false promises, but I will teach you the truth. Here, have some wine; it will relax you.”

“No thank you,” you say, words clipped as you remember the last time you had a glass. Trauma aside, if someone wanted to poison Vauthry, you don’t think you’d mind.

“Stubborn.” His voice is barely raised but he slams a hand upon the table, making everything on it jump. “How will it serve you to deny me? You are here whether you like it or not; if you submitted to me I would make you a citizen of this city. Do you have any idea what people are willing to do for such an honor?”

“I do,” you say. “And if they truly knew what they were walking into you would be left with no sacrifices to your petulant temper.”

He stares at you for several moments– potentially you used too many big words– before he bears his teeth, shouts, and slams his fist against the table a few more times before grabbing a meol loaf and thrusting it at your face. “I’ve had enough– eat!”

You lean back but he presses forward. “Eat, damn you!” he says and pushes it against your face as you can lean away no more with hands holding you in place. You turn your head to get away from the bread that the light inside you reacts to. You don’t know what that means but it feels wrong in a way that turns your insides. However Vauthry is bearing down on you and he reaches in with his other hand to hold your nose.

So you oblige him.

Your teeth sink in to the base of his thumb and he howls. His flesh is pale, putrid, spongy…

…sickeningly familiar.

He rips himself away, leaving you with a tainted taste of sour blood just before the guard rips you out of your chair, slams you to the ground, and descends upon you.

By the end of their assault you wouldn’t claim to have much dignity left, bleeding on the floor as you are, but Vauthry is still whimpering about his bandaged hand so by comparison you’d say you’re doing all right.

There’s a knock on the door and Vauthry composes himself. “What is it!” he barks.

The door opens. “M-my lord,” the servant whimpers. “The- the Crystal Exarch is at the gates. In his words he demands an audience with you, to speak of the wrongful imprisonment of his warrior– his words, not mine!”

“Feh.” Vauthry sneers down at you. You let your eyes close and continue to steel yourself for what is to come. “I’m half-tempted to throw you from an airship and watch you break at his feet. But you may be of use yet. You– bind and bring them. You– tell the guard the Crystal Exarch is hereby an enemy of Eulmore and is to be executed on sight.”

The servant confirms his orders in the most simpering way possible and Ran’jit, finally, speaks up. “My lord, we need not truly negotiate, but we could make him return Minfili–”

“I don’t care about the girl,” Vauthry spits out. And then literally spits. “We have the Warrior of Darkness and the Crystal Exarch’s futile plans will never succeed without them. The girl will fight and die like all the others and a new one will be born. You can have the next reincarnation; the current one is too much trouble.”

“…My lord,” Ran’jit says, somehow deferential and seething with rage both.

As your hands are chained behind your back you feel a familiar calm settle into your bones and seep through your blood. Warrior of Darkness indeed. For a while the title didn’t feel right; you were a Warrior of Light taking the power of the light and everything about you felt too bright and burning. The Warrior of Darkness was a convenient title– a children’s story, a religious figure, and you felt sacrilegious ever even thinking about taking the mantle.

But now. Now the light is dimming as you allow an old friend back into the shadows of your mind and you feel yourself deaden to the world with only Fray’s echoing chuckle in your ear, even as you are dragged to your feet and paraded out to a terrified populace. Vauthry speaks to his people to– inspire them? Cow them? You aren’t truly paying attention. Not until he turns to you and asks, “And what would you say for yourself, villain?”

You look amongst the crowd, making sure not to linger on familiar faces. They don’t feel wrong, they don’t feel deserving of your wrath, and so this is not the place to make your stand. And you’re not a politician. Not an inspired speaker. However the things you have been through have given you just enough experience to know how to stir people. For better or for worse.

“Night is coming whether you like it or not,” you say. A little pull, a little pitch-black glamour, and all across the room you drape all the aether you can muster to…‘turn off the lights,’ so to speak. There are a few shrieks and shouts, and a chorus of gasps– even from Vauthry himself. You look right at him. “So you had best get used to the dark.”

---

“By the Twelve, you’re a right mess.”

You crack open one eye. The other one is too swollen to budge. “Thancred?” you ask with a throat too dry to nearly speak. “What are you doing here?”

He scoffs and starts picking open one of the manacles. This is unexpected– and entirely too soon; you haven’t yet healed enough from the last beating to carry out your plans. “I got in here once already; you can’t think they’d keep me out now?” There’s a clicking sound and Thancred works with more careful motions. “I’ve simply been awaiting my opportunity. Nice little lightshow, by the way; it–”

“Thancred, did you find–” Alphinaud’s gasp is joined by another and both twins exclaim your name.

“I’m all right,” you say as Alphinaud’s healing magic begins to settle into you. It prickles, but after a few moments you can blink open both your eyes, and open and close your now-free fist. Perhaps everything can go ahead as planned.

Alisaie watches you sharply, and when you’re unshackled and healed up enough to start walking towards a collection of old weaponry, she says your name warily. “We should go.”

“Not yet. There’s something I have to do,” you say and dig through the pile until you find a greatsword.

“My friend you are barely healed,” Thancred says and holds out his hands. “We must return to the Crystarium and regroup.”

“We won’t get a chance like this again.” You give the sword a few swings. It’s far from perfect, but it will do. Until you find a guard with a better one. You turn towards your friends. “You don’t have to come with me.”

They look like they might refuse. Thancred looks like he might try to bash you over the head and just steal away, but whether he relents because he wants to or because he senses he can’t win, you aren’t sure. Either way he shrugs and smiles. “Very well,” he says. “Just answer me honestly, my friend– are you certain you feel well enough for this?”

“Yes. In fact…” You turn towards them, light pulsing beneath your skin and ready to be unleashed with the darkness already gathering. Stars and moonlight, there is a place for it, and you will show it where to go. “For the first time, I feel right.”

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite prompt 6: avatar #ffxiv fanfic #shadowbringers spoilers #warrior of light #vauthry #captured #rescue

[weatheredpileoftomes]

down through the years

For FFxivWrite2021 Day 24, “illustrious”. Post-Shadowbringers, vague 5.0 spoilers and implied physical DPS + healer rolequest spoilers, ~450 words.

The children tell stories.

“I’m going to be a mighty hunter,” says a Drahn boy.

Frydlona sits back on her heels, the soil of the southwest gardens damp on her hands. With the night’s return, the artisans of the Crystalline Mean no longer need to do all they can just to keep the gardens alive; it’s a pleasure now to watch the plants thrive under her care when she takes a shift in the gardens. If people are strange about the Warrior of Darkness herself helping, even more than they had been when she was just the Exarch’s honored guest…well, there’s nothing she can do about it.

Still, pleasure in itself or not, the day is warm and she’s been transplanting seedlings for nearly two bells now. It won’t hurt her to take a few moments’ break.

“A hunter? You?” asks one of the other children.

“Uh-huh!” The Drahn boy jumps onto a rock and poses dramatically. “I’m going to be just like Renda-Rae, and find the biggest and baddest beasts and put them down.”

Frydlona blinks a few times against the tears that spring to her eyes at hearing a child so casually call the Ranger of Darkness a role model again.

“Don’t be stupid,” says a Mystel girl, tail lashing. “By yourself?”

“Yeah!” This speaker is a Zun, easy to spot among the crowd. She folds her arms and stares at the boy who wants to be like Renda-Rae. “If you’re going to go hunting, you’ll need someone to patch you up when you get hurt—”

The Drahn boy scoffs. “I won’t get hurt. Not badly, anyway.”

That’s what she thought, too, Frydlona thinks. She doesn’t have to say it, though, because the sensible Zun goes on as if she’d never been interrupted. “Just like Renda-Rae had Lamitt. She was so brave, I thought. Leaving everyone she knew to help…”

“You’ll need someone to protect you both,” the Mystel says. She mimes a two-handed swing. “I’m good at making people mad at me! So if I get really tough, then the beasts can hit me instead of you, Leofstan, and you can shoot them when they aren’t looking at you. And”—she turns to the Zun, beaming—“you won’t need to worry about them hurting you either! I’ll keep you both safe.”

The swing was of an axe, Frydlona realizes. The girl is smaller than either of her friends, but her tail flicks proudly as she looks up at them.

She hopes—she doesn’t wish Ardbert were here, not when he spent so long trapped here, but she hopes, somehow, he knows about this. That wherever he is, at peace, he knows that this is his and his friends’ legacy again.

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #my fic #my fic: frydlona #my fic: frydlona: gen #my fic: 5.x #frydlona merlgeimwyn #i will name as few OCs as humanly possible!!!

[chysgoda]

The Missing Oracle

The fourth girl to be named Minfilia steals a choice for herself. 

Content Warning: discussion of child soldiers

Spoilers: Shadowbringers

Author’s Note: This hurt, alot. 

She did not say anything anymore, she had not since her eighth summer. Ran’jit had watched with concern, this Minfilia’s words dried up until she only responded with curt nods or shakes of her head. She still trained but something behind the blue glow of her eyes was empty. These girls were their hope for the world. If she did not have hope how could she keep it burning? He pushed her harder, showed her that she could overcome the sin eaters. She met and overcame his every challenge, but Ran’jit could not discern what choked her voice and hollowed out her soul. She may as well have been a well crafted talos for all of the humanity she showed. 

On her tenth birthday he gifted her bow. He’d commissioned it from an artisan who had escaped Vorebtire’s fall. It was a thing of subtle beauty and power. Her glowing blue eyes followed her fingers as they traced patterns inlaid in ivory and lapis lazuli. Ran’jit thought he saw something in her gaze, something like a spark of life. He opened his mouth but closed it quickly when he hear someone running toward them. Both Ran’jit and the Minfilia turned to the door as it burst open. 

“There are Sineaters massing to the west!” The youth got out between heaving breaths. “There’s… there’s so many of them…” 

“Then we don’t have a choice?” Ran’jit’s head snapped towards the Minfilia before his mind parsed the words she actually said. Her voice was breathy, and there was a pained tug on her lips when she finished speaking. Ran’jit stared at the blank eyes that looked back at him with only that dim flicker of something. 

“She spoke,” the messenger stared down at the Minfilia. He sucked his lips between his teeth to bite at them as he took a step back. “The silent oracle spoke!”

“Get to the barracks and make sure that you are prepared for battle, boy.” Ran’jit hissed. The awed statement had strangled the spark in the Minfilia’s eyes. When he looked back after issuing his order she had turned away and was walking to the stand her armor hung on. Her lips were not just closed but deliberately pressed into a thin line. There would be no more words tonight.  He turned his mind to the battle that was coming to them and left the Minfilia to finish her preparations for battle. Later there would be time to press her about her first words in two years. 

~**~

She’d left her pretty bow behind. It didn’t feel right to take it when she was running away so soon after General Ran’jit had given it to her. But she needed something so she took the plain bow of a dead soldier and left her pretty one in its place, carefully folding the soldier’s arms and closing his eyes so that they didn’t think he’d tried to steal it from her. She glanced around, no one really paid attention to her after a battle. General Ran’jit would be working with Mr. Wrenden to get supplies to people who needed them, and troops back to Eulmore. The healer’s would be checking the wounded to see who could be helped, who needed to be made comfortable and who would need to be given draught they quietly referred to as the dark’s kiss. She wasn’t needed anymore, and no one would look for her for several bells. They just assumed she would be a good girl and keep herself out of the way. She slipped away disappearing into the tall grass and leaving only her pretty bow behind. 

She didn’t know where she was going or how she would make her way. Anyone who saw her would identify her as the Minfilia and turn her back over to Eulmore like a misbehaving puppy. She knew she didn’t want to go back. She knew she wanted her own name like everyone else, but that was selfish and not befitting of the Minfilia. Neither was running away, but it was her choice and not a direction given to an automaton. She kept close to the cliff wall and stopped by a stream to drink. She looked at the reflection of the white leather and silk she wore. Why had they always insisted that she wear white? No one ever gave her a reason that she couldn’t wear purple like the other soldiers. White was what the Minfilia wore and that was the end of it. She left her hands in the stream and just felt the tickle of water rushing past her skin. It would be dark soon and she didn’t know anything about the world other than fighting Sineaters. There were noises that she didn’t understand and she could not sense any freezing light. She could go back, say that she had felt something and went to scout it. But then she’d just be a doll again. 

Something like fire made her nerves jitter and she looked around. A few short strides away from her stood a man in heavy dark skirts and jacket. She cringed away and looked around for the best way to run. He made a gentle shushing sound and hiked his skirts up a few ilms so that he could slowly lower himself into a crouch and be closer to eye level with. He moved slowly resting his elbows on his knees and giving her a lopsided smile. “Now what shall we call you little one?”

She licked her lips and wrapped her arms around her stomach. She didn’t have a name, she was just the Minfilia or the Oracle of Light. She kept looking between the man and distant Eulmore, while straining her ears for the sound of soldiers sent to take her back. Something changed about the man’s golden eyes and for just a moment they were dull with sadness. He steepled his fingers in front of his lips like it would hide the frown. “I won’t take you back, little one.”

The corners of her lips turned down and she chewed on her bottom lip. She didn’t know him but he was the first one in as long as she could remember who had not called her the Minfilia. That was nice. The man smiled and held out his white gloved hand to her. “I need a name to call you by, if you give me your hand I can give you one.”

The girl’s glowing blue eyes widened. Her own name? Was it that easy? Could he really give her a real name? Slowly she went to him with careful halting steps. He didn’t move and just held her gaze until she rested her fingertips against his. He gripped her fingers gently and bowed his head over her hand like she’d seen some of the soldiers do with their sweethearts. The girl giggled and the man’s eyes brightened just a bit. He gently turned her hand over so that he could look at her palm. “Hmmmm... how would you feel about Desdemona?” 

The girl licked her lips and swallowed hard; this was something she could speak for. She didn’t think she needed to hide her voice from this man. “Des…” she frowned when her voice gave out. She swallowed and tried again. “Desdemona?” 

“It rolls off the tongue nicely doesn’t it? Would you like to keep it?” The man gently lowered her hand and rested his elbows on his knees again. She nodded enthusiastically. She could keep it! She didn’t HAVE to be the Minfilia now, she could be Desdemona! 

Desdemona didn’t realize she was crying until the man’s thumb wiped a tear from her cheek. “Yes, Desdemona is a fine name for you. You may call me Emet-Selch.” 

Desdemona smiled and reached up to wipe away her tears quickly. She got in trouble when she cried. She swallowed again to moisten disused vocal cords, “Thank you Emet-Selch.”

“Now if you want to win free of Eulmore we’ll need to hide those eyes and that hair. If you can find me your favorite stone in the stream right here I can help with that.” Emet-Selch stated. He stood up straight and watched Desdemona eagerly search for what he had asked of her. He hated when a plan caught a child in the machinations of a rejoining. Malformed and fragmented though they were, in children he could almost see a hope for Amaurot’s return. Here at least the best thing for the rejoining was also the best thing for this child. He would send one of the lesser acolytes to find a suitable home once the child was asleep.  

Desdemona came back from the stream with a bounce in her step. She held out her rock for his inspection. He took it and made a show of examining it carefully. It was just a rock, he had no idea why it had caught the child’s fancy but that was the way of children and their treasures. He looked at the child and built another image of her in his mind; sun spun golden hair dulling to mousy brown, and eyes with white sclera and dull brown irises to match the hair. A plain little wren of a girl that eyes would pass over. He wove that illusion into a spell and anchored it to the stone. Emet-Selch snapped and copper wire wrapped the stone securely and made a loop that allowed it to hang from a leather cord. He gave Desdemona a wink and smirk when he saw her eyes had gone wide and her hands were covering her gaping mouth.  

“Now you must remember that this is secret magic. If you tell anyone about it the spell breaks and all will be able to see that you are the Minfilia.” Emet-Selch warned in stern tones as he held out the necklace for her. The girl nodded forcefully and took the necklace. She dropped it over her head and by the time the stone thumped against her chest the Minfilia had vanished and now there was only plain Desdemona. Emet-Selch snapped again and the bright white armor transmuted into a linen tunic and trousers. 

Desdemona looked down at herself, she pulled her braided hair over her shoulder and stared. She swallowed thickly, relief and exhaustion mingling in the tears that began to spill from her eyes. She leapt forward to wrap her arms around the neck of this strange man who helped her. She buried her face in the soft fur of his coat collar and sobbed as she hugged him tightly. 

Emet-Selch rocked back on his heels when he reacted to the sudden hug a beat too slowly. Carefully he held the child as he stood up. Memories from too many long lost dreams ago surfaced and he whispered reassuring nonsense while laying the gentlest of sleep spells. Desdemona feel to the spell easily, all of her energy spent in the battle and her flight from the Eulmorans. Emet-Selch pushed back memories of other children, ones he had fathered in various mortal guises, his son as Solus Vos Galvus, his niece in Amaurot. Nostalgia would not serve him here. So instead he bent his thoughts to more practical matters, and fed his hate of Hydaelyn with resentment of how often the young were caught up in this unending conflict as pawns. 

Someday the world would have no need for such distasteful things. Someday the world would have no more need of heros to manipulate. 

#ffxiv #ffxiv fan fiction #red head writes a thing #child soldiers CW #Ran'jit #emet-selch #oracle of light #the minfilias

[angstidote]

Shadowbringers Theory Time

FFXIV 5.2 spoilers below the cut, but like, THE IMPLICATIONS !!!

This is totally just a theory, but I feel like I have a good idea of what caused the end of Amaurot in the first place, the why of Zodiark and Hydaelyn, how the WoL is not in fact tempered as has been implied, why Emet-Selch felt justified in extending his faith to us, what Elidibus is working at with this seemingly empowering angle, and what we can expect to see in the upcoming story arc.

It’s a lot, I know, but hear me out:

So like, first off we know now that “the defector” was not part of summoning Zodiark OR Hydaelyn, and we’re pretty sure we were the defector because in Hythlodeus’s speech about that person, the gender of the 14th changes with your gender–implying he’s likely speaking of us. This means that WE were not necessarily tempered by Hydaelyn, because we were likely not there for her summoning in the first place:

We knew why the original convocation created Zodiark–to stop the world from self-destructing. But they have not yet explained why it was falling apart in the first place.

I’m seriously wondering if somewhere along the way someone realized that the source of the problem was the Amaurotians themselves. After all, we know that magic takes aether, and that the Amaurotians were crazy powerful mages. To not have made this connection themselves is totally unrealistic, given how advanced they were with regard to their knowledge of magic.

My theory is that they realized they were responsible, but no one wanted to admit that they were at fault. Or more than that, no one wanted to, well, stop using magic, so they started grasping at straws for what to do…and Zodiark was one such attempt. By giving the planet a will of its own they hoped that IT would moderate them as necessary, no muss no fuss.

However, to summon Zodiark took a tremendous amount of aether as we know, and after that he basically demanded that the Amaurotians pay the cost of any further large magic expenditures. My feeling is that they gave the star a will, but did so specifically so it would save itself. We know how sensitive creation magic was, so surely someone wrote this intention into it–but they probably didn’t realize what that implied for those who lived on the planet. Accordingly, it willed that people stop using its magic, and die en masse if that’s what it took.

We see only a part of the ancient ones’ conversation, but it seems like they knew this. If Zodiark stayed, eventually he was either going to kill everyone directly or allow them to kill themselves by sacrificing themselves for every expenditure:

Now, as for Emet-Selch–he made it seem like whatever was causing the end of days was a mystery, but he was one of the convocation members and he would have at least heard evidence for why Zodiark would and wouldn’t work.

It could be that the council had other reasons to believe Zodiark wouldn’t fix the problem–but considering Emet’s obvious and understandable adoration for his lost people, I’m wondering if perhaps time changed his perceptions of how the sacrificing of half the population went down in the first place.

It may not have been quite as voluntary as he remembers it–especially considering the populations of the 14 dimensions are made of the same souls as the ones who lived in Amaurot! He said as much himself. But given what we’ve seen in the comparison between us and Aldelbert, souls tend to live out their natural tendencies no matter how many times they’re rejoined. As the WoL we’re nearly half our original strength thanks to all the rejoinings, but Adelbert ran the same endless errand chains and then sacrificed everything just as we would, even though he had only 1/14th of our soul in him. This tells us that souls behave like themselves no matter how strong or weak they are.

By Emet’s estimation, the fragmented incarnations are weak and selfish and scared, but I’d put money on the fact that they were like that to begin with, and here’s why:

This was the theme of this whole expansion: selfless acts may be remembered as selfish. And I’m thinking this is likely a set up for the reverse being true as well (since all of Shadowbringers has been about the importance of understanding the other side of the story): that selfish acts can get mis-remembered as more selfless than they were.

Emet lauded the selflessness of Amaurotians being willing to sacrifice one half their community to save the other half. But if they were somehow to blame for what was happening–due to how much aether they were depleting from the earth itself by using their creation magics so much–their sacrifice may have been necessary just to stem the depletion causing the chaos.

Which is why Hydaelyn may have manifested the way she did. They probably realized that Zodiark got accidentally made to save himself at any cost, so they had to create a will of the planet that cared about its populace as much or more, to keep him in check. But knowing the source of the problem, they had to make her able to kill both birds with the same stone. By splitting everything up as she did, she both stemmed Zodiark’s power and also dramatically reduced everyone else’s power as well, which stopped the hemorrhaging of energy without everyone having to pay for it with their lives.

Note the distinct need for a permanent solution. 

It sounds to me like they knew they would be dis-empowering everyone by summoning her. That everyone would be split into pieces and forced into the reincarnation cycle. Yet they seemed to feel like it was the only choice, given the circumstances–circumstances that Emet may have omitted from his 12,000 year old memory bank due to his conflicting desires to both save everyone and serve Zodiark faithfully.

Ultimately, it’s likely that he extended his olive branch to the WoL because he knew we were not involved in summoning Zodiark OR Hydaelyn, and that we genuinely cared about people no matter who they were--like he did. It’s implied that we were on good terms or even close to him before the sundering. But while we didn’t think Zodiark was a good plan, he went with it because he was desperate to save everyone. Just like Adelbert, he was manipulated into making a horrible mistake because his love was so blinding he couldn’t see what he was doing. That’s why he was able to convince you as Adelbert, and why he knew you (”that soul”) were worth trying to win over. He knew we were capable of hearing him (Adelbert already had) and of giving him a chance when no one else could. 

Again, we see the idea that because love was the motivating factor for the crime, his selfish acts got mis-remembered by him as more selfless than they were. Instead of recognizing that Zodiark killed half the population, he just blindly believed on some level that they made the sacrifice voluntarily. And I’m sure this will come up in the story again because we already see it happening with all the guards of the Crystarium quitting “to be helpful” when it’s actually the opposite of helpful, because it leaves the city unguarded.

But back on the topic of Emet, he’s incredibly sympathetic to the scions--both eventually eliciting their respect as the story progressed, and subtly supporting them (for example, by bringing Y’shitola back from the life stream). You can tell he genuinely wants to see eye to eye, and not just for the purpose of manipulation. But as a result of his tempering he’s ultimately unable to separate his will from Zodiark’s. This made him the enemy of the Scions and ostensibly the WoL as well, something which has clearly tormented him ever since (after all, he clearly tried to make it work, as “he had children with us, grew old and died with us,” etc.) and has driven him to endlessly try to rejoin everything so we would all be on the same page again.

But in the end we couldn’t go with Zodiark for the same reason we couldn’t go with the idea in the first place–which is probably why he flew into a rage and remembered us as our Amaurotian selves. But despite this, Emet still died having placed his hopes for the future on us…his hopes that we would honor the lives that were lost in the ancients’ misguided attempts to save everyone. And I think this is significant because it tells us that on some level his love for his people overpowered his tempering.

Elidibus remarks that Emet didn’t have the stomach to do what was necessary to follow through on Zodiark’s orders. I suspect that Elidibus is indeed the Oracle of Darkness and equivalent in rank to Oracle Minfilia, and that as a result he agrees unyieldingly with Zodiark that people are the problem and are therefore irrelevant. Emet, on the other hand, did not feel this way. And though he was unable to act in opposition to Zodiark--having been tempered by him--it’s pretty clear that the only reason he supported summoning Zodiark at all was the one implied in his memories--he loved the people of Amaurot and wanted to save them. This is why all his memories of Amaurot are favorable, all the people kind and considerate and lovely...because that’s how he always perceived them. But this created a permanent splintering of his loyalties (which is tragic but cool in the sense that the title of Angel of Truth/Emet-Selch is associated with the sign Gemini).

Sorry, I got off topic there but I just really love Emet-Selch.

Anyway, as for the ancients we saw in the Anamnesis Anyder…I gotta assume we were looking at The Scions 1.0. Particularly with Venat being linked as Minfilia because of this little bit of data:

…and we know who consistently looks the same in all her incarnations on the first: the Oracle of Light. She’s probably talking to Thancred there, since he implores that anyone but her do it, then accepts her will even though he’s sad about it, which is…like, the story of Thancred’s life, the poor dude.

But I mean, what we’re seeing with Elidibus wandering around as Adelbert seems to be a new approach. To put it simply, if everyone awakens to their original power, they’ll all start draining the shards just as they did with the Source. Ultimately, this will bring about the same calamities everyone faced back in Amaurot and once again people will look for a savior…and maybe, just maybe, we’ll get the whole Zodiark thing this time (doubtful, bro, but you do you). After all, blind desire to help is exactly how he got created in the first place.

In the end, we may all find ourselves repeating the forgotten history.

This expansion is so freakin’ elegant. I’m just obsessed!

#ffxiv #5.2 spoilers #meta #theories #emet selch #i'm so in love with him i cannot continue living i'm sorry #ascians

[ffxiv-ariavitali]

III: Confession

On the topic of family: Aria Vitali and Edmont de Fortemps (featuring Artoirel and Emmanellain de Fortemps)

1563 words

AO3 ver.

[Shadowbringers spoilers below]

❅ ❅ ❅

Lord Edmont de Fortemps watched as Aria smiled happily as she brought the teacup to her lips. The taste of chamomile and rose petals skimmed their tongues, the scent of potpourri bathing them in herbal remedies—to which the lord knew that this combination was her favorite—basking them in a refined sort of indulgence and relaxation. On her plate was an array of pastries, a sweets tower often found in High House tea parties standing in the center of the table while the lord was content with scones and lemon bread.

It had been a while since the woman had returned home, had returned to Ishgard. He had heard news passed from her brother, who obtained his tidbits from the Scions themselves. Whatever she had experienced in this new land called 'the First' clearly had its toll on her. As a father, Edmont was able to pick up on the differences rather quick: the dark circles under her eyes, the scabs of dried over cuts left over on exposed skin and the slight twitchiness she was displaying among some of the tells he knew that she wasn't aware of showing.

However, the lord had more tact than to ask. His home was her solace, a place that she can escape to that bars the entrance of those looking to manipulate her, looking to use her name and status for their own gain. He knew the game Ishgardian nobles were wont to play despite knowing that they should be grateful to the Warrior of Light for freeing them of years of battle with the Dravanians. For sparing them the fate of being razed to the ground by Nidhogg and his brood. He won't suffer for it and all within his estate is painfully aware; after all, they bear the same sentiments as the heads of house.

"Father, is aught amiss?"

Lord Edmont blinked, pulled from his reverie by the woman calling out to him. He offered a repentant smile and inclined his head.

"Mine apologies, my dear, 'tis the old age preventing me from hearing clearly. Would you do this old man a favor of repeating what you last said?"

Aria laughed at the comment, a bird-like, melodious sound, in response.

"If you were of old age, then you would not be moving as spritely as you were when you had greeted me early in the morn. I only mean to say that I had learned of a variant of herb that may aid in your arthritis while in Novrandt. When I next visit, I will harvest some and see what I can do about concocting an herbal remedy."

There she goes again, the lord thought. Caring about others and not for herself.

Edmont's smile widened and he nodded in understanding.

"You are kind overmuch, my dear. You need not go out of your way to procure the ingredients. As you said, I am still a 'spritely' man."

At this, the pair burst into cheerful chuckles and the lord saw the way that the man- and maidservants standing in wait near the wall smiled in kind. The warmth of the Warrior, the happiness of their lord together in one place and one time was a sight for sore eyes. 

The truth is more complicated; the lord being privy to them whispering and collecting news on Aria's affairs, worrying for her as if she was truly a trueborn daughter of House Fortemps. It was a shame that House Lukos, the true blood family of the Vitali children, had originally denied their lineage for the children's mother had conceived them with a lowborn with no status, no money, no honor. It was only after Aria had made a name of herself after slaying Nidhogg in which they tried to claim them as their own, even forcefully at times. They truly didn't know such treasures if it hit them in the-

Edmont took a sip of his tea, pushing the thoughts to the furthest corner of his mind. It was well and good that Stryder, Aria's elder brother, had decided to accept the position of House Lukos' next head of house. It was interesting to learn his decision of keeping the 'Vitali' surname, but he confided that it was because neither he nor his sister wished to forget their roots and where they came from. 

Moreover, the notion of allowing Aria to remain with the Fortemps family was a statement in itself: 'I care not for what you do to me, but I will never allow you to touch my sister with your greedy hands' is the words that was said. At least, according to Echoes, Aria's attendant. Thus was she here, thus has she made this manor her home for most of her days. That is, until the day a certain lord commander clad in blue decides to take her for his wife.

"Father, there is something I must confess," Aria began.

With the way that the woman had gently placed her tea cup down, the way her eyes suddenly went serious, it was something that had been swirling about her mind and heart for a while. So, Edmont did the same and sat upright just a bit more as a silent indication that he was paying attention. He saw that she appreciated notion as she smiled just a bit despite her hesitation before she finally spoke.

"You know, Father, I do not have many regrets in life. I try my best to live as if every moment is my last considering the nature of the work I am doing."

Indeed. There are many souls worrying for your safety every day.

"But, you know, Father... The day that I realized that I was dying, that I realized that the primordial Light was close to consuming all of me, there were a few things that I learned that I regretted."

At this, Edmont's eyes widened in slight surprise, his jaw going slack to which Aria had smiled sympathetically albeit wistfully.

"The first was not telling Haurchefant how much he meant to me. For allowing the fear of being hurt to consume me to the point that I was no longer afforded the chance. When I think about it, I am sure he knew and I am sure he felt the same way. There was too many things going on, after all...!"

Aria chuckled softly to herself, nervously, but Edmont didn't begrudge her for it. He knew from the first the sentiments they had for each other even when they were still figuring it out for themselves. She had gone through so much and she yet pushed on. He could never hate her for it. In fact, it made him love her even more.

"My other regret, though, Father... was not telling you how much you mean to me."

Edmont could only stare at the woman, a whirlpool of emotions swirling within his chest. He saw the manner to which her amethyst eyes glazed with unshed tears, her lips remaining stretched so she would be able to finish her confessions to him before she, herself, fell apart.

"Losing Mother when we were young really tore Stryder and I apart. When I lost my biological father hereafter, I could not help but blame myself. 'If only I was wiser. If only I had reached out to others for help earlier.' I know that he passed from an incurable disease and I truly regret not loving him more.

Yet, I am grateful. For if it was not for his last wish to have us bear witness to Ishgard and its splendors, I would not have become an Adventurer. I would not have met Haurchefant or seen the land that they hailed from. I am sure my mother and father are happy where they are and they would forgive me for such arrogance in saying this... Lord Edmont, I am proud to call you 'Father'. A father that had taken me in his home when I had no where else to go, that has loved and guided me on my path and has wiped my tears when I have cried despite not being his own."

It was at this that Aria couldn't help, but spill the tears she tried desperately to hold back. She sniffled, hiccuped and it brought to life the paternal instincts within him. So much so that he couldn't help but shedding tears of his own.

"Wh-When I thought that I would not be able to tell you th-this, I was heartbroken," she said inbetween her sobs. "So I...I wanted to tell you immediately."

Edmont stood to his feet, circling the table and took the woman into his embrace, patting the back of her head gently. He allowed her to openly weep against his clothing, offering sweet hushes and words of reassurance, and when both Artoirel and Emmanellain had crossed the hall and peeked into the room to see what was happening, he could only give them a reassuring expression.

"Is everything alright, old girl?" Emmanellain asked, ever so tactless.

Edmont nodded. "Indeed. Just a little sentimental, your sister is."

Artoirel smiled helplessly. "Ah, so it seems."

When they approached, Edmont reached out and pulled the two into his embrace, as well. He was blessed to have such children, one who loves him and whom he loves in earnest.

He will confess this to all of Ishgard if need be.

#ffxiv writing #aria #edmont de fortemps #artoirel de fortemps #emmanellain de fortemps #seaswolchallenge #aria vitali writes #family

[sequoiaofeorzea]

A start to a fic that I decided to take in writing my characters adventure into Shadowbringers.

*This is going to be long so it's still in progress*

An Eorzean Tail; The Parting Glass: A Three Part Prologue

Set at the begining of A Reqium for Heroes with fan made additions to the msq leading into Shadowbringers.

~Sé mo laoch mo ghille mear

’Sé mo Shaesar, ghille mear,

Ní fhuaras féin aon tsuan ná séan,

Ó chuaigh i gcéin mo ghille mear.

Sé mo laoch mo ghille mear

’Sé mo Shaesar, ghille mear,

Ní fhuaras féin aon tsuan ná séan,

Ó chuaigh i gcéin mo ghille mear.

You will be my gallant star

Oh heys to me mo ghile mear~

It had been four weeks since Thancred, Y'shtola, and Urianger had fallen unconscious due to the mysterious voice anomaly.

"Ahead looms a calamity....twin dooms must be fore stalled".

The words kept repeating again, and again in Sequoia's mind day in and day out. What's worse, she couldn't sleep after all of what happend. She felt even worse for young Alisaie due to the fact they hadn't heard from Alphinaud since he left for Garlemuld with Maxima. As much as she trusts Alphinaud, she can't help but pray to the Twelve that he be safe. The twins maybe prodigies, but they were still children.

Archon, Sequoia's husband began to stir from the other side of the bed. "Good morning, dandelion" he yawned out, "How are you feeling?" He gently reached his arm over to place a hand on her face. He knew what happend.

At the time, Archon was at the Rising Stones helping Tataru with some errands. At first he didnt want to do it until Urianger decided to guilt trip him by using his very olde speech to get the miqote annoyed enough to accept. It was after Sequoia and the others return that he witnessed seeing Urianger and Y'shtola collapse. He was frightened and rushed over to his wife, trying to prevent her from doing the same. He was scared and he began to curse himself and also Cedar, Sequoia's brother, for not accompanying them to Ala Mhigo. In fact, where was Cedar during all of this?

Sequoia let out an audible sigh "I'm still processing it all. Its....I'll be okay". It was a small lie. She knew that he's always worried for her. She knew that he knew that being chosen as a Warrior of Light was taxing. She had slain primals of many, ended a 1000 year war between dragon and man, and liberated not only one nation but two under the oppressive Empire, Garlemuld in which was still a major threat. More over she has dealt with the sinister Ascians, those of which have tried to kill her and her friends many times. At the sametime she tries to balance all of her duties with her marriage. She and Archon had decided to take their marriage a step further to start a family, but the dream had to be put off due to the immediate threats impossible to ignore.

It saddens her. She wished that the world would stay saved just once for her to start a new chapter in her life.

Archon brushed the back of his hand over her cheek to comfort her to the best of his ability.

-----

During his absence on current events, Cedar had gone to the Shroud to take a trip down memories both nostalgic and tragic. He had felt the need to visit the place where his sister and his journey began; the old cabin, their childhood home.

Bullseye, the araiman voidsent along with Kupo Cop accompanied him to the place aswell. Although he didnt mind his Bullseye, he couldnt quite understand why Kupo Cop wanted to come along when it was a personal matter. Cedar decided to let it slide for the best.

Immediately upon their arrival, Cedar was overcome with sorrow from the site of what was left of his childhood home. The cabin was barely keeping itself togather from being abandoned for almost 16 years. Nature had already reclaimed every part of the foundation, vines and other vegetation covering every ilm of the house from broken furniture, to the sink that can be seen in through the kitchen window.

Cedar got off his chocobo and approached the building. Opening the the door he instantly smelled the memory of his mothers stew boiling in the kitchen, the sound of the kettle that would almost always be forgotten before it made its presence know with its screeching. He can hear the pattering of feet and giggling of children on the top floor, with his mothers voice calling them all down for supper. He even imagined hearing his fathers voice calling down in reply, laughing while carrying and limping down the stairs with children not wanting to let go. He even imagined seeing them all singing songs with instruments and his parents telling his bothers and sisters about their time as adventures.

He was brought back to the present from the sound of broken glass. Looking down at his right foot, his eyes grew wide as he looked upon the faces under the broken shards.

It was a picture of his family. He brought the frame up carefully to examine it. The photo features his parents and his siblings all posing neutral standing up save for his mother holding a bundle in her arms; that bundle being Sequoia. And right next to where his mother was cradling his sister in her arms, a boy slightly glancing at the babe stands protectively, his little hand reaching over to let his baby sister hold his pinky. It brought a smile to the miqote face but a stray tear rolled down his cheek and he instinctively whipped it away with the back of his hand.

In the backyard a small cemetary was made where his parents and other siblings now lay at rest. He took that moments to attend to each grave stone, praying and talking to them as if they were actually their before placing a white lily at the foot of the stones.

"Wasn't expecting you to come here" a voice suddenly came out of the blue startling poor Cedar to where he jumped back and fell on his rump. He turned to his left to find an older miqote man in his early sixties. As Cedar winced in pain from his fall the other man leaned over and gave his hand out to the younger. "Seven hells, old man!" Cedar hissed out. The older miqote chuckled before replying apologetically while helping Cedar up. "I have come to visit the same as you, to visit my daughter". Both men looked over to where Cedars mother's headstone was. Cedar knew that his grandfather suffered just as much as he and his sister did, losing his only child in the massacre. Since Bealsarswall, the Garleans have been scouting around the east shourd with the family cabin being located just a few miles from the perimeter. Even thinking about it made Cedar wished there was a way to change the past.

"I...also came with a message, from the Scions." Cedar turned his head back to face his grandfather. "Is it urgent? Is Sequoia alright?! Wh-" his grandfather interrupted "HOLD YOUR BALLS BOY!"

"Language, kupo!" Kupo Cop came over with Bullseye in tow.

"Well, what is it! What's the mes-AAH!"

Suddenly, Cedar threw up his right hand to his head as his body rocked, everything strobing violently around him as he tried to collect his bearings.

"GRANDSON WHAT WRONG!"

"OOOH KUUUUPPOOO WHATS HAPPENING TO HIM?"

Bullseye was flapping his wings frantically comeing over to try and help his master.

"What is this anomaly I'm sensing?" Says the inner apparition of Fray within Cedars soul.

Suddenly everything went black.

-----

At the very sametime both Sequoia and Alisaie were experiencing the same thing.

"Throw wide the gates.......throw wide the gates!"

And just like before, the voice and anonomly ceased. Lyes ran over to the two stopping just short when the experiance stopped. "Was it The Call again?" Lyse asked worried.

"It was, but we can't do anything about it now." Alisaie responded. "We have to find out if my brother is alright." Sequoia agreed. And with that they left to accompany Lord Hien, Yuguri, and Maxima to Shiriyus Wall.

#ffxiv #ffxivshb #ffxivsb2 #Prologue #ffxiv shadowbringers #ffxiv stormblood #ffxivsb #ffxivsb 4.5 #fan fiction #ffxiv fan fiction #sequoia redwood #sequoiaredwood

[witchfall]

thread

summary: They say she invented the harpsichord. The melody of birds.

(He won't remember this when he is born again.)

(And he is born again.)

---

Also on AO3

SPOILERS FOR SHADOWBRINGERS WITHIN.

{inspired by Tales from the Shadows, the new Keane album, and my general instinct to go absolutely ape shit over past lives/memories. beyond that i have no fuckin idea where this came from lmao. except some wild conjecture @vaniccio and I have about What It Could All Mean re: the future of the FFXIV MSQ.

WoL x Exarch and the strange friendship of Emet-Selch and an unnamed member of the Convocation...}

---

You are eight years old when you first realize the world is not the way it is supposed to be.

You don't understand the shattering incongruence of your thoughts as you watch the water run down the shower wall, but you suddenly know the world is different now. You see its crushing dullness. What is the point? Why do the people in this world even try to live? It is beautiful, but it is wrong. Like when a baby chocobo spooks and your friend falls and skids their elbows horribly bloody. You can't stop looking.

You stumble out of the shower and grab your towel, for you are big enough to do this on your own, and you run to the living room. Your wet feet slap the metal floors of the airship; in the distance you can hear Ma singing. Your hands feel hot. You squeeze them in and out of fists. Maybe this is what Ma means, when she sings about heartbreak. You feel shattered.

Ma is speaking animatedly about something. "But don't you think the chord progression is off?" she says. Da, sitting in a nearby chair with a tome in his lap, lifts his hands in assent, or perhaps the act of giving in.

"I've only ever been a scholar to your ear, my darling," he says, in the tone you know means he loves her even when she can be frustrating. You know that because he's used that tone on you many times.

"Oh, you're no -- " Ma starts, but then she sees you. She stops talking at once. She is by your side in three steps and tightens your towel cape at your collarbone. She kneels by you. She smells like Gramma's cookie spices. "You forgot your clothes, silly boy," she says softly, smiling warmly upon you, and it makes your eyes well up.

When you tell Ma about the thoughts and the weirdness -- Does it all matter? Is the world actually bad? -- she pulls you into her arms. She is warm and her skin squishes under your fingers and you sink your tears into her shoulder.

"Some things feel very big in our hearts," Ma says. Her voice reminds you of birds, sometimes, which makes you laugh and want to cry more. You don't know why. "Some things are hard for our souls to let go."

"My soul," you say, working through the bigness of that.

She smiles. She pushes your hair from your eyes and teases you about a haircut and tickles your ears and smothers your face in embarrassing kisses until you laugh and the thing around your heart relaxes just enough.

Ma rises to her feet. "I’m gonna go get your clothes, okay?" You nod.

Da has been standing there the whole time, watching. But then Da levels with you. Da's eyes are red like the pretty earrings Ma wears sometimes. Very red. Like you could fall into them forever.

"Souls are very strange," he says. He lays his hands on your shoulders. "I believe some of them even have memories."

You find this interesting. Your ears flick. "Was I thinking about a soul memory?"

Da makes the face you and Ma call the Old Man Sad Face. His eyes go out of focus and his mouth tilts into a smile with no mirth. He leans in, whispering a secret: "Maybe. What do you think?"

You aren't sure what Da wants you to say. You just shrug.

---

You love nothing in the world more than listening to Ma sing. You like it best when you are playing in the airship’s many halls and you hear it echoing from a lower floor, bubbling through the metal like steam. When no one is around to look, you’ll lay your head against the floor and feel transported very far away. You imagine the strangest things: lights that climb the sky. Buildings that shadow everything. A million, thousand stars. People cheering in auditoriums you have never seen...

“When did you first know you’d get married?” you like to ask Da. This time you ask while looking out over Aunt Lyna’s garden. The wind tosses your hair about and the air smells of roses.

“The first time she sang,” Da says.

Ma laughs every time at this. I was just 19. We were children. But Da always smiles. It’s alright. It’s always taken you a little bit to catch up to me. And then she whacks him with a spoon or something.

But you like to ask because it feels right, when he says that. Ma always tells the story of how Da reached through time and space to save her, and it is the best story of all time because it not only has travel through time and space but also Ma being awesome and killing monsters and bringing the night sky back. Then, then! She somehow reaches back through time and space to free Da from a tower, like a prince in a story. And then they get married and you’re born. It’s amazing.

“Your Da saved me so many times,” she says, when she tells you this story. You are sitting together, watching Da tell a frustrated Aunt Lyna how to plant a cabbage. “He’ll never admit it. But I think he is the more interesting character in that story.”

She says that, of course, and you nod. But you can’t help but think: If Ma’d been silent -- if Ma had never sang to Da, just the once -- there would be no world. You never would have been born.

---

You don't know much, but you know that Ma and Da are complicated.

One time when you were supposed to be sleeping you heard Ma talking about Da like he was once made of crystal. Sometimes I wonder if I'll wake and I'll still lose you to it, she said. Like it knows somehow that its supposed to take you back. The tower. I'll wake up and you'll be all crystalline and silent.

Oh no, Da said. We’re over. I left it at the first chance to find you again, love. I don't think it wants me like that anymore.

...you make it sound jealous.

Maybe it is.

They muttered together quietly until they started kissing, you're pretty sure, so you ran away immediately.

But this was very strange. Da is squishy and warm and has two blood red eyes and a tattoo on his arm and his neck and is not at all a man of crystal. You ask about this tattoo. He says it was from his time at school. You squint at this. You hope school does not make you get a tattoo, too. Everyone says you look like Da, except Da, who says you look like Ma, but they both have reddish hair and pale skin so it doesn't make a lot of difference to you. You even have one each of their eyes: one red and one seaglass green.

Ma has more wrinkles around her eyes and deep scratches on her face. She has a ragged, old gash on her shoulder. A few old burn marks here and there. Strange gold lines on her wrists where her veins should be. It makes you feel weird. Whenever you see them, you feel outside your own body with fascination and fury at whoever did this to Ma.

Not long after you overhear that, you get a terrible scratch by meddling with something in the engine room. So you decide to ask after her scars. Usually, she just laughs and tells you a big story about fighting a monster.

This time, Ma frowns. She touches your cheek and meets your gaze. Maybe it’s because she was talking about Da being a crystal man. Maybe she is just feeling sad. You don’t know.

"I fought in a lot of wars," she says. "I had to protect a lot of people. Because I was strong. And that's what strong people do."

You nod seriously. That's right. That's what all the heroes in all the tales do.

"I had to kill many people, too," she says.

You frown. "They were bad, though." Who would fight Ma, except people who were bad? Anyone that tried to hurt Ma deserved to die. You feel only a little guilt, thinking that.

Ma places her hand between your ears. Her eyes are dark and serious. "Not all of them, baby. Most of them were just...on the wrong side. Most of them thought that they were good."

Your heart speeds up. Your throat feels dry. "But they had to be bad," you say. "You're not bad, Ma."

She smiles down at you, but there's something broken about it. She rubs your ear. She says nothing for a long time, and guilt weighs on you in a thousand ways you do not understand. You think to run or squeeze her in a hug until she can't breathe but you are pinned by her gaze and so you do nothing. She says: "All we can do is try, my sweet pie."

And then she leans in very close, smiling as if she hadn't said anything at all. "Want to find the cookies I think your Da is hiding from us?"

You smile back, heart flying, and then she squeezes you in a hug instead. You feel forgiven and forgiveness in turn. Maybe you'll never know why.

---

They say she invented the harpsichord.

(He won't remember this when he is born again.)

The melody of birds.

(Maybe he doesn't deserve to be born again. Maybe that is his punishment.)

He still listens for it.

(But perhaps the weight of freedom would be most damning. The proof he had been wrong all along.)

---

You wake up and run to Da. As usual, he is already awake as if waiting for you to come to him, sitting on the observation deck of the airship and staring at the stars through great, rounded glass. The ship does not fly at night.

He turns toward the sound of your footsteps and beckons you to join him. You scramble onto his lap, suddenly feeling too cold to sit by him with dignity.

Da reminds you of the tales about mages in ancient cities that were swallowed up by water. Mages that knew everything there was to know. The gods smote them for knowing too many things. You hope very much that they do not turn their eyes upon Da.

"Trouble sleeping, my dear one?"

You nod into his chest. He wraps his warm arms around you and hums softly for a few moments, stroking your hair.

"Da," you say. "Where do people go when they die?"

Da takes a big breath and you move as his chest rises. His humming stops but he continues to stroke your hair. "Thinking deep thoughts tonight?" he asks, voice warm.

You 'hmph' against his chest.

"They go to the Lifestream. Though there is still much we do not know and may never know..."

"Do people know each other there?"

Da's hand falls still on your back. If this were Ma, she would begin asking why you want to know this so bad, but Da never does that. He answers your questions plainly. "We don't know. You live in a...much changed world, from when I was small."

You are unsure what to make of that.

"But that means there’s so many more worlds for you to know,” he says. “For you to explore. You know how we sometimes have to be very careful and sit still in our chairs? How the world around our airship goes Purple Wavy?"

You nod. "When we go between the worlds."

"Yes. We couldn't always do that, you know. Before you were born...it was all very complicated but the worlds were all closed. Now we can do Purple Wavy and get there. And maybe one day that will include the Lifestream."

"And then I will find you and Ma and Gramma and then it'll be fine," you say, explaining this anxiety before you can even name it.

Da holds you tightly to him. "I have no doubts," he says, deep and warm. You don't look to see, but Da is looking up at the ceiling, trying not to cry. You are feeling sleepy again so you don't notice.

"When are we getting to Uncle Alphinaud? And Alisaie?" you ask.

"After you sleep tonight, love. One more sleep left."

"One more sleep until more books," you say, and that's all you remember before you drift off. When you wake up, you're tucked back in your bed. You think of the birds singing just outside your little window.

---

They say she invented the heart of music.

She wrote the tragedy about painters and light; it ends with a father giving in to the river of time. She wrote the comedy where three people marry in an explosion of color so beautiful that people in the audience sobbed. ("It is still, technically, a comedy," she would say when pressed.) She wrote music like velvet against the skin, heavy and sumptuous. She would pick your gaze apart in silence, distill you into notes that sung so high you'd see violet. The Convocation respected beauty, once -- respected creation that reached inside you and tore your heart from your ribs so you could examine it better.

This girl is not her.

This girl sings dirges and arias and poorly-paced limericks, yes, but her soul doesn't pull apart with each new composition. The world shifts around her, certainly, but the air no longer shimmers when she works. This girl doesn't sob over coffee because a boor called her latest draft "uninspired." This girl isn't her.

(Perhaps that is one subtle gift of the sundering. The world ends each day in little ways but they still believe in the promise of tomorrow.)

"Fond of her, are you?"

The Exarch had deigned him with silence, then, but Hades knows the truth. Even in this life, the souls around her are pulled toward her suffering brightness. In these last moments of his life, aether seeping from the gash in his body, he realizes they would have perished before her original glory.

He wishes for that. To be scalded, even a little bit, by her grace.

He fades into the light, and can only hope.

---

Your world is many places crossing the great sky. Your world is here in the airship with Ma and Da and maybe a sister soon, or so Ma keeps saying. You press your hands against the glass and hope you'll remember this always -- the way the world looks, perfect and green, as you fly over it like birds.

"What are you thinkin’ about so hard, cutie?"

Ma tousles your hair. Your love for her feels like it will eat the whole world.

"Nothin," you say. You look up at her and grin. "Just stories."

#ffxiv #ffxiv writing #crystal exarch x wol #crystal exarch #emet-selch #shadowbringers #shadowbringers spoilers #otp: upon an eternal wind #kathryn writes

[princessofimaginarydragons]

Prompt #26 - Slosh

FFXIV Write 2019 - 30 Day Writing Challenge

Hosted by  @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

~~~

Takes place after the events of Shadowbringers MSQ, but doesn’t really contain spoilers (maybe if you squint)

~~~

The tray of drinks sloshed around as they were deposited in the middle of the large table, the barmaid giving the group of Scions a wink as she slid away.

Iscara reached out for a bottle, flicking the cork out with a thumb, before taking a long chug, and then raising it up, “Cheers.”

Y’shtola chuckled, “I’m sure you’re meant to do that before you start drinking.”

“That was some hours ago,” Alphinaud pointed out, handing the miqo'te the glass of wine he had just poured.

“Yes, and some of us should probably stop,” Thancred interjected, pointedly looking at Ryne, who blushed, and pushed her glass away. 

“It’s a celebration Thancred, let the girl enjoy it.”

“She won’t enjoy the hangover tomorrow.”

“Never had one in my life,” the warrior of light grinned at him. Thancred narrowed his eyes at her, and muttered ‘lucky sot’ under his breath.

“Never ever?” Alisaie looked over at the warrior, who shook her head, and earned a sigh in response.

“What’s with the heavy sighing?”

“Oh, nothing serious. Just…” the young elezen looked over at her friend, “Sometimes, I think that I barely know you. I know that’s not true, but…”

Iscara put her bottle down, looking over at Alisaie for several moments, the table quiet. Then she let out a sigh, took a long swing, draining the bottle dry, and said, “Fine, let’s do this.”

“What?”

“You want to know things? About me? Ask away.”

“What, just like that?”

“You are my friends. My best friends. I trust you, all of you. And, lets face it, I am a close-mouthed bitch most of the time. I don’t want you to feel like you don’t know me. Aaaand Lolorito happened to find out I have a sister, and that fact that he knows that when you don’t makes me feel weird. Also I’m pleasantly inebriated, so ask away.”

“You have a sister?”

“Yup. And she’s got eight kids, I’m very used to being called ‘Aunt Is’.”

“How old?”

“Eldest is fourteen now, youngest is only a few months. Nine possibly? I lose count. It’s where all my earrings disappear to, they get used as chew toys.”

“Where do they live?”

“They moved into Ala Mhigo after we took it back from the Garlean’s. Oma brought the merc banner down to fight in the liberation efforts, and once it was free, she wanted to stay. Jaydra brought the family because she’s been wanting to move for a while, and thinks she can get a good foothold with her business in the city.”

“Oma?”

“What business is she in?” The twins simultaneously asked.

“Oma is grandmother. Jaydra’s a goldsmith, she makes a good two thirds of the stuff I wear.”

“Thou has mentioned before in passing that thou does not consider thyself Ala Mhighan. May I enquire as to why, as it seems thy family is closely tied to the city?”

“Oma is Ala Mhigan, and there’s a fair few in my family tree. But there’s also other bits and pieces of different nationalities in there as well. I wasn’t born in Gyr Abania, didn’t grow up there either. I’m highlander, for sure, but personally I don’t feel I have any ties to Ala Mhigo, their culture is second hand to me. I had what you could probably call a ‘blended’ upbringing. More than anything else, I guess I think of myself as ‘Eorzean’.”

“What are those other bits and pieces then?”

“Okay, family tree time. So, Oma is Ala Mhigan, and she got together with a Limonsan, which made my dad. My mum’s father was Ala Mhigan as well, but her mother was the product of an Ala Mhigan and a Gridanian. And I think the Gridanian was a product of a Gridanian and an Ishagardian, but I’d have to ask about that.”

Alisaie was leaning her head on one hand, listening with rapture, “Multicultural indeed.”

Iscara hummed her agreement, knocking back another drink.

“Where were you born then, if not in Gyr Abania?”

“Mor Dhona. Southern shores of Silvertear Lake. Of course, it’s the Carteneau Flats these days.”

“Was there a reason for that?”

“The family and the merc banner, actually back a little bit. So, Oma inherited the mercenary banner, ‘Winter’s Edge’, and made a name for it and herself. So when King Theodoric came to power, and started doing things she didn’t like, she just packed up the banner and went out on an ‘extended work trip’. Basically unofficially quitting the city until it got sorted out, which, well you all know what happened there. And since everyone knew what she was doing, some of the family members of the mercs under her banner came with her, and it kind of grew, until it was this large nomadic band, going where the work was. Mor Dhona was empty, and central, and a pretty good place to make a more central camp, so there were there for a few years, and that’s when I was born.”

“What’s your favourite colour?” Ryne’s soft voice came from the corner.

Iscara smiled at the young girl, “Blue. More specifically, pale blues, like ice crystals, or hydrangea flowers”

“I’ve got one,” Thancred leaned forward, “Best and worst fights. Your opinion.”

Iscara winced, “Give me something easy, why don’t you,” she took a swig of the bottle as she thought. “Worst, Zenos. Rhalgr’s Reach was probably the worst of them all. Best? Thordan. Not for the fighting, that was easy, he wasn’t as good as he thought he was. None of them were, and that’s why showing them what a real Fury could do was so satisfying. Not healthy, but really, really satisfying.”

“Are you a follower of Halone?”

“Yup. And before someone asks, no, I was before Ishgard. I’ve been her follower since childhood, she was who I invoked when I was named.”

Y’shtola frowned a little, “Were you not named when you were born?”

“No. Not properly. There’s a, I guess who’d call it a belief in my family that a person’s name says a lot about them. So when children mature enough, they can pick their own name. Until then, they tend to have nicknames or a ‘kit name’. Although there’s a couple of people I know who liked those names so much they kept them.”

“So you chose the name Iscara?”

“And Wintermere. We all tend to have winter in our surname, keeps the family connection. Mere is an old name for a lake, referencing where I was born.”

“And Iscara?”

She smiled, “My first ever friend gave the name to me. Well, she gave me a title in her language, and Iscara is kind of what is translates to when you put in Eorzean.”

“Which language doth it stem from?”

Iscara chuckled, “You’re clever people. Learned people. I’m not going to tell you, but I would be interested to see if you can work it out. And what it means.”

Urianger raised an eyebrow, Y’shtola chuckled. Alphinaud dived into a tome in his bag, Alisaie rolled her eyes. Ryne looked slightly confused, and Thancred shrugged, “Well I hope there isn’t a prize because I have no chance of winning it.”

The warrior of light chuckled, “I don’t know. You’re pretty good at turning up unusual information when you want to.”

“So there is a prize?”

“You want something more than the satisfaction of knowledge?”

“Yup.”

She tapped the table, “Alright. That pool Tataru has going. About my love life.”

“Ooooh, you know about that?”

“Course. Anyway. I’ll tell the winner the answer.”

There was a moment of silence, then Alphinaud stood up suddenly, redness across his cheeks, “SorrybutIthinkIneedtogotobenowgodnightall,” he said without breathing before turning and abruptly walking away from the table.

“Oi! Don’t you dare think you can go and break into the crystal tower at this point at night!” His twin yelled at him, also leaving the table to chase after him.

“Prithee excuse me, and I shall see that they do not cause too much ruckus,” Urianger said, exiting at a more sedate pace.

Y’shtola sighed, “You want to look in the crystal tower as much as they do.”

“The coin that hast flowed into aforementioned pot is vast.”

The thaumaturge waved a hand at him.

“Not joining them Y’shtola?”

“I doubt the information is contained within the Tomes of the Exarch. And yourself Thancred?”

“Oh, I was simply planning on taking a more immediate approach. More wine my friends?”

Iscara chuckled, leaning forward and meeting his eyes, “I could drink everyone else in the entire Crystarium under the table and still be lucid enough to not tell you a damn thing.”

“Now that sounds like a challenge.”

#ffxivwrite2019 #ffxiv #writing #fanfiction

[thevoilinauttheory]

title in progress

( the first part of my self-indulging fic, I guess lol. I meant for it to be short but now it has chapters so... here’s the first one. It’ll be under a cut for being so long, though here are some small details.

chapter 1/?

summary: shadowbringers spoilers - this will be tagged appropriately so it doesn’t come up on those who have these tags blocked. a studious amaurotine makes terrible mistakes and gets thrown into a series of events he really didn’t want to be a part of in the first place, but here he is. )

More things that needed tending to. More cataloging, more plants, more… terrifying fish in a pool of water that he shouldn’t have been afraid of, but was anyways. It was his work. To make sure everything was in its place and stayed in its place. Not that anything was going anywhere anytime soon - or ever, he had thought. He shuffled through books and memos, static keeping him company over a small radio device. There were words, though it cut in and out from the loss of signal. “More ill… injured… beasts run-... it’s a mess…” He never minded the static, it was better than the silence he dealt with usually. Something to stimulate him and his ever sprinting mind. He placed books back, moved to a desk and wrote down more. When the silence hit him once more, his head snapped towards his radio. “Philokrates.” The equally robed person in front of him had turned off his white noise. It irritated him somewhat. “Yes?” “Why do you never tune to something more tasteful, hm?” They picked up the small device and tuned to something lighter - soft jazz music, which, while Philokrates did not abhor, found it grating to listen to as he worked. “Taste is an opinion.” His words and body language did not speak the flinching and disgust that was hidden behind the mask on his face. “And in my opinion, I find music to be distracting while I study. The chattering of voices and debates are far more productive in stimulation.” “Very well.” They turned the radio back to the static and voices that echoed gently in the background of his mind. “I wished to make you aware of the group of children that are arriving soon. We have elected you to teach them of our faculties, procedures, and personnel here.” Elected - the word didn’t sit right. It felt more as if they were throwing him onto the duty simply because everyone knew he was a favorite of the budding students that often graced the Akadaemia. They could at least admit honestly to it, he would be more willing then. “I apologize. I am currently in the midst of groundbreaking work - for the illness that has been plaguing our people. If I may request that another take my place for the time being.” “Your work is not going anywhere.” “But our people are. I could debate this with you for the rest of our existence, but that would get neither of us anywhere. Please. Allow me this one day.” An audible sigh emitted from the robed figure, a shake of their hood and mask in disappointment. Their exasperation made known. “...If that is all that you need, then continue your work. I shall get Aniketos to take your place for the time being. Perhaps I could recommend visiting Phantomology for more answers - if it will quicken your progress.” “I appreciate your understanding. The recommendation has not gone unnoticed, however, I do not believe it necessary.” His words were the last that were spoken before he was left to the static and sudden screams that cut the station he listened to back to silence. He stared at it, heaving out a heavy sigh. There was a lot of work to be done, not enough time. This illness was spreading too quickly. His people turned to horrific beasts and monsters which no one had ever thought to create - and now the images were all anyone could see. He had hoped his newest creation would aide those who were showing the first signs of the illness. It was an utter shame that once turned, not even the strongest of creations could revert what damage had been done. Though in the progress of attempting to create asylum to those who suffer, he studied further to attempt understanding what their world was going through. There were nothing left in these books to guide him. He had gone through them all, pulled aside those that could aide him, then stacked them high as he grabbed his papers. One more stop. Phantomology was the section best kept to itself, both its creations and creators - they were not terrible folk. They engaged well in conversation. Though it was for those reasons that he found the quarter rather… intimidating. Having been founded by an esteemed member of the Convocation, the idea of running into such an individual made Philokrates’s spine shiver in anxiety. To be forced to have a conversation with them even more so. He had always lauded himself above others, finding himself to be superior in intellect. But there was a reason why he was but a cataloger of creations rather than a member of the Convocation - he could not deny that his intellect would be but a child’s compared to them. Lost in his thoughts once more, he picked up the small pile of books, his stack of papers, and his radio - which was promptly shoved into a pocket in his robes. He shuffled himself through hallways, tensely past the glass aquariums and caged botany creations. Round the corners of the institution, greeting others he had passed with a nod. Until the halls grew empty, quiet. The silence again. He hated it. It made him more anxious than he already was. His footsteps were all he could hear as he made his way to the Phantomology section. There was nobody here. In his confusion, he looked about for a sign or note that the section might have been closed off - but there was nothing. No students, no creators, not even the slightest hint of life. He cleared his throat loudly. “...Hello?” It was not the most graceful, nor educated, manner of presenting himself. But he would not intrude upon such a place if there were no one here. He peered around the corner, deeper into the quarter. Still no one. It was almost… eerie. Haunting. The halls echoed with every breath. He had a mind to turn around and leave, but his curiosity was piqued. There was no one here, who was to stop him from pulling but one book down to read? As his moral compass spun in circles, he had no time to register the tall being behind him. “It seems there is a visitor here, one from…?” The sudden voice had caused Philokrates to not only let out an uncharacteristic yelp, but jump and drop everything that he held. So startled and drawn back from his mind he was, he had barely the time to realize what happened before the black-robed man laughed at him. He stuttered in embarrassment kneeling down to gather up his belongings quickly. “Ph-Phytobiology.” “Phytobiology.” He repeated the word as he leaned over to pick up the scattered remains of the neat paper stack. He read over them, or at least, what he could of them. “...Is that so? Such progress for a man of one station, do you not think?” “I…” Philokrates cleared his throat. Right, stand tall, don’t show fear or anxiety or embarrassment. “...I pride myself in learning all that I can. I merely work in Phytobiology. I would not say it is my first choice in studies, however--” “However, it has led you to a conclusion that you believe to help our kind, yes?” The man picked up more of the papers, skimming over them. “As much as I would love to say that your conclusion has proved enlightening, we have already tried this method.” He stacked the papers neatly together and piled them on top of the books that Philokrates picked up. “We..?” He should not have questioned so soon. He should have ignored it. Instead, he made a much larger fool of himself. “Ah- I mean-... is that… right? I see. I had hoped some insight in Phantomology would prove to aide my work, though it seems I must return to hypotheses.” Despite the covered face, the position of the man’s body practically screamed that he had an inquisitive brow raised. He stood in silence and thought before lifting a finger to his mask, a gesture to keep silent, before beckoning him to follow. Philokrates blinked, stunned for a moment before scuffling along to keep up. He took in what he could of the area, before he was stopped at the end of another hallway. The dark-robed man gestured broadly to the desk off to the side, littered with papers and books - theories, testaments, pictures. All on the illness that spread so quickly. Philokrates stopped for a moment, turning his head to the mysterious and confusing man before setting down his belongings to look over everything that was scattered across the surface. He tried to read. It was too hard to focus, what with a man standing over his shoulders and the dead silence. He fished in his pocket for his radio, setting it down with a soft “do you mind if I-?”. With a brief shake of the hood, the radio was turned on. Static, barely words to make out in the background as he relaxed in the noise. Back to the papers. Everything he read, it only led to more confusion. He skimmed books, memorized details, pieced together more information. It didn’t take too long before the shock of it all settled in. “The illness… is caused by our own use of creation?” He set the papers down. “I see… that is why no creation can cure it.” He thought for a moment, folding his arms across his chest. “No creation can cure or stop it, for creating only makes the process faster and worse. If that is the case then, perhaps…” He shook his head and let out a sigh. There was too much to process and not enough time to do so. “Perhaps, then, you would like to read over my attempts to find a solution?” The man’s voice was arrogant, like he was asking to have his ego stroked by witnessing the reaction of a lesser groveling to his intellect. He pulled a neater stack of papers from a drawer in the desk to hand off to Philokrates. Why was he even doing this? What purpose did all of this serve? Did he just happen in the wrong time and place? Was this man so desperate for praise that he’d show a stranger - very obviously lacking in the same degrees of smarts - his work? Though after he had read but the first page, he had almost thought to laugh. “Summon a creation strong enough to end the illness? To stop the end of our world as we know it? You would create a god instead of finding a true solution? If I must be honest, this seems to be the easy way out. Instead of honing our craft, you would simply cast it aside as if it were nothing.” Philokrates had no intention of offense, but the mere prospect was as if a child had come up with the answer. “And you have a better one, then, I take it?” The smug response of a man who knew what he was doing. Or at least, had thought so. “With enough time, I would say so.” “We do not have time.” He shook his head with a shrug. “The rest of the Convocation has already agreed that the time we would need to come up with a… less ‘lazy’ solution does not exist. For our end days are upon us already.” “And you would tell me this why?” “Tell me what your proposed solution would be.” “As I stated, I would need more--” “Right now.” His tone of voice dropped. Serious and demanding. Had Philokrates not already expected as much, he would have found it intimidating enough to clam up. He had already dug himself into his grave by practically insulting the work of the Convocation - enemies that he should not even think to make - it was only right that he continue digging until he was the full six feet under. “Instead of using our powers of creation to devise a solution, I would leave our fair city to gather bounty from that which the land has granted us. Use it to treat symptoms as they come. Medicines made from hand, not magic.” The man scoffed. About to debate the idea down, no doubt. Only to stop and hum in thought. The moments that it took him to think about the prospect, Philokrates had already begun to pack up his things once more. “...It would take far more time than what we have. That it may work I will not discredit, but our time is but upon us already.” Was that… a compliment? Philokrates stood up and turned to him, quizzical. “What? Not even a ‘thank you’? That is by far the highest compliment you could recieve, especially from me.” So it was a compliment. Still. That didn’t answer why this man had chosen him to share the ideas the Convocation had come up with - they weren’t his answers to share… oh, they were. He said the paper was his. The Convocation couldn’t come up with anything better. That he- they-. He stopped. Oh… Oh, dear. He had insulted the work of the esteemed Lahabrea, and all he did was laugh it off if not completely put him down. He could almost feel the aether leaving his body as he realized his mistake. He should have never come here. He should have just continued his work in peace, blissfully ignorant of how stupid it was. All he knew next was darkness as he fell to the ground, faint from either the realization or sudden sickness.

#i guess i need a fic tag now #uuhhh #my writing? #my writing #sounds good enough #shadowbringers spoilers #shb spoilers #5.0 spoilers #ffxiv spoilers #if anyone can make an educated guess on who philokrates is #i will totally add your character to the next chapter #which i'm working on right now in a different tab #i'm also just fuckin hungry for attention and recognition lmao #aint gonna lie

[autumnslance]

would you be willing to make a masterpost of all your sharlayan research and headcanons? please please please and THANK YOU if you do

I can certainly try! A lot of my info is from what little we have so far, and my own fics are where a lot of my headcanons go to live, with little snippets about various characters here and there in my scattered lore posts, as well as stuff I’ve collected from other players.

Other Resources In Louisoix’s Wake - The twins’ official Calamity short story on the Lodestone. One Name, One Promise - Thancred’s backstory, from Limsa to Sharlayan training to his early assignment in Ul’dah and then early Shadowbringers. Mirke’s Menagerie - A compilation of lore info from in game, lorebooks, panels, interviews, short stories, etc. There are about 4 or 5 Sharlayan-specific posts @mirkemenagerie has made.

Encyclopaedia Eorzea - If you can get your hands on copies (physical officially; digitally is Unofficial so far as I know), I recommend it! They’re both good reads, though EE 1 is the one with a blurb on Sharlayan as a nation.

Posts by Other People - that I have collected Leveva Comment About Archon Loaf - Keeping in mind Sharlayan’s bad cuisine has been canonical for years per lorebook 1. They care more about ease of eating while studying, also seeing culinary arts as an academic field, not a practical daily exercise. Lorebook 1 Astrologian Lore - screencaps from the lorebook. Phaedra’s Teen Scion Sharlayan Antics fic - I am happy to take responsibility for inspiring @phaedra-mero to write this delightful scene.

My Own Posts Red Mage Research - Includes books from Gubal Library. Scion Ages - Pointing out the ages of the Scions, particularly the Archons.

My Fics - Sometimes there’s more HC musings in the Notes and Comments. I try to stay close to canon, at least as it is when the fic was written. Rogue’s Prelude - Multichapter, teen Thancred meets Louisoix, Yda, and Papalymo. Written a year prior to Thancred’s official ShB story above. Aetherology & Skulking Boots-Beginnings - Y’shtola agrees to tutor Thancred in how to speak properly as teenagers in the colony. Chin Up - Yda gives Thancred advice as youths in the colony. Dreams of Home-Lucubration - Yda, Lyse, and Thancred in the colony. Younger Sister - Thancred’s relationships with the Hext sisters over time. In Violet’s Wake-Louisoix’s Children - A Master Matoya PoV from StB patches. There’s a brief chapter with her and Y’mhitra in Dreams of Home, too. Excerpts from other posts - things that ended up as commentary on other threads, with some editing since.

From a thread that started off as about Thancred’s Gear from ARR to HW:

Sharlayan is a nation on an island NW of Eorzea proper; the Sharlayan everyone we know hails from was a colony that became a city-state a few hundred years back and part of the Eorzean Alliance, in the Dravanian Hinterlands, where Idyllshire is now. After the fall of Ala Mhigo and then the Battle of Silvertear Skies, the Forum (their ruling body) decided to abandon the city and return to the motherland, a process that took 5 years before they all just teleported out in a day. Except Matoya, and those archons that worked for Louisoix and that he asked to stay and go to the remaining 3 Alliance cities. This would have been 15 years before ARR/Heavensward.

The Students of Baldesion are also Sharlayan; the Isle of Val, their headquarters, being under that nation’s banner. Sons of St Coinach are another offshoot; Rammbroes (Crystal Tower raid story) was originally part of Louisoix’s Circle of Knowing (who eventually became the Scions), and Y’shtola’s sister Y’mhitra is one of the Sons and part of the Summoner storyline.

Thancred got involved as a youth–by trying to pick Louisoix’s pocket, and impressing the old man with his skills, and so Louisoix brought Thancred back with him to give the kid an opportunity for study. Yda and Lyse escaped Ala Mhigo, and with help from Papalymo, who was part of an effort to help refugees seeking shelter in Sharlayan, they ended up there, and Yda is the one who actually became an archon.

Most of the other senior Scions, so far as I know, are native to Sharlayan, either the motherland or the colony. The Leveilleur twins were born in the Hinterlands Sharlayan, but raised in the motherland, as they were less than a year old when the exodus happened. The university they and Krile attended is the Studium. Becoming an Archon seems to be a separate process not everyone goes through, and is a demonstration of mastery in chosen field(s) of study. That’s the significance of the tattoos some of the Scions have on their necks or faces.

Sharlayan is basically a nation particularly focused on academia; the trouble is, for the last couple decades, it’s been controlled by a faction of isolationists who would rather hoard knowledge and sit in the proverbial ivory tower looking down on non-Sharlayans, claiming others would abuse their knowledge, and that they should simply observe history and not try to affect it. Louisoix, Matoya, and the organizations they associate with (the Circle of Knowing/Scions; Sons of St Coinach, the Students of Baldesion, etc), think that viewpoint is stupid and go against it. A big part of the Astrologian storyline is dealing with Sharlayans who dislike Leveva’s family sharing Sharlayan astrology with outsiders, for example.

What sort of relationship Sharlayan and Ishgard had before the exodus isn’t really detailed much; both were pretty insular and focused on their own issues (like many of Eorzea’s city-states outside of crises), and the Dravanian threat at the time might have kept them pretty separated by land. Sharlayan was responsible for Eorzea’s aetherytes and keeping the aethernets working, though, and it’s suggested they still handle that post-Calamity to some degree. We pay fees for teleports because reconstruction and upkeep is pricey for all of the city-states.

Next post:

The Isle of Val was the headquarters of the Students of Baldesion, Krile’s family and order, and was a Sharlayan institution. It’s destruction/missing status happened during the ARR patches, and Krile was saved by Hydaelyn as she has the Echo (as an aside: you can hear Minfilia talking to Krile via linkpearl in the background on the Enterprise after rescuing the Scions from Castrum Centri before Ultima, and she constantly refers to and worries about Krile after the Isle of Val goes missing, but then plot happened to Minfilia so we never see them together as friends). The Ascians seemed to have a hand in the Isle’s disappearance…but there’s story about the fate of the Isle of Val and the Students of Baldesion in Stormblood’s Eureka plotline.

As for the Archon Marks, if they do confer social benefits, aside from being an easily seen status symbol for some highly skilled & educated folks, it hasn’t been mentioned yet in concrete terms, though we know the rank has benefits (like access to forbidden lore). Mostly they are a way to tell at a glance who has obtained the rank. It’s like if people with doctorates had a tattoo of their degree symbol on them so you knew just by looking.

As of Shadowbringers 5.4, we know that to become an Archon a thesis is required, and it’s a great deal more work than a Studium graduate’s final thesis. It strikes me that Studium (which some of the Scion Archons also attended) is like undergrad or Masters studies, while Archon is a Doctorate level.

I personally headcanon that the arcane marks confer some minor, slowed visible aging and other vague magical benefits befitting their rank in Sharlayan society. Really, that’s a way for the devs to avoid new models and add to the confusion in 1.0′s intros and the running joke about Y’shtola’s age, BUT let’s come up with an in-world thing, too. There has to be some explanation for Thancred’s perpetual baby face when he’s not RPing a Mountain Hobo ;) Also we really don’t know for sure how old Matoya is. Just old.

Lorebook 2 Notes:

Mikoto Jinba (Return to Ivalice, Save the Queen storylines) worked on aetheric siphon research with Moenbryda, and at 29 is the youngest Raen with the rank of Archon in recent history. It was Jessie’s connections that brought her to Cid’s attention and got her involved in the Return to Ivalice story.

Ejika Tsunjika (Eureka storyline) went to school at the same time as Krile and Leveilleur twins, endorsed by Galuf Baldesion, who Ejika later chose to work under. He’s resentful of Krile and the twins as Ejika himself is of humble origins and had to struggle to get to where he is, yet hides his Archon brands with high collars as he refuses to believe himself unique or exceptional.

#Final Fantasy XIV #Lore #Sharlayan #Archons #Scions of the Seventh Dawn #Anonymous

[blueyemxn]

My Persephone (Pt. 5)

A Broken Exchange

Spoiler Warning: Content below contains spoilers for the lvl 80 Shadowbringers MSQ, if you have not reached this point in the game and do not wish to be spoiled please refrain from reading. Otherwise enjoy my trash shipping at your own risk.

Relationship: Emet-SelchxWoL          

Ao3 Story - Here    Part One: Here    Part Two: Here    Part Three: Here    Part Four: Here    Part Six: Here

“This really is unexceptionable. I gave you very specific instructions.” 

He lumbered sluggishly, still slouched over as he approached the Warrior of Darkness and her companions, eyes ever downcast in disappointment. Disappointment in her, that she would dare share this ancient ground with others. That she would bring her friends to a place only special to themselves. He had known from the moment they stepped into Amaurot that she wasn’t alone, and yet now he complains about it? How so… him.

“Emet-Selch.” There came a growl from Alphinaud, but Nua paid him no mind, her eyes focused on the Ascian before her. 

She took a step, then two, then three and suddenly she was there in front of him, so close that if she took a deep breath their bodies would touch. “Last I checked I didn’t need your permission to do anything, least of all to bring them at my final hours.” 

Her eyes bore into him, challenging his golden stare that didn’t change from its disapproving glance.

Her chest tightened; she hated it when he looked at her like that, like he was trying to make her feel guilty. “Though, all things considered, I did try to come alone, seems my friends are just as stubborn as I.” 

“As if we’d let you confront this bastard alone in the state you’re in,” Thancred said as she heard a click from his gunblade. Cute, but Nua didn’t find it necessary, though it warmed her heart to know they cared about her that much. To risk themselves like this when she was about to turn and probably devour them all.  

“No matter. In the end my invitation was for an abomination, a being ripe with power to bring about this shard’s annihilation. Not this half-broken… thing. Whatever am I to do with you?” He asked mockingly, the last of his words ending in a sneer as he continued to stare down with condescension. She glared back, the word broken echoing within the realm of her mind, digging itself into her heart.

Broken.

Broken.

Broken.

“I’m nothing but broken.”

“Such an odd thing to say, it’s something Emet-Selch would surely debate against.”

“Only because he doesn’t know.”

“You’d be surprised. He may not speak about such things, but he knows, he always knows.”

Cracks began to form beneath her feet, splitting the marble as the beast within grows restless. Her fingers dug into her arms, twitching as she was given the overwhelming desire to slap him across the face with such force his head would come clean off. The only thing that stopped her was a tug at the heart, a long forgotten devotion to a man who wasn’t himself anymore. 

“It took a painstakingly long time to make that and here you are breaking it into pieces. Are you already so far gone that you can’t control yourself?” There came a long, drawn out sigh from his lips as he looked down to the floor with a bored expression before those orbs of ichor went back to hers. 

Her eyebrow twitched and she opened her mouth to say something.

“You’re not going to let him get to you that easily, are you?” Ardbert asked, walking next to her. “He knows nothing about you, nothing about this world. He does not have the right to dictate who lives and who dies. It stands to reason he shouldn’t dictate how you feel, right?” There was a warmth in his voice, as if he were smiling, but Nua dared not break her eye contact with Emet-Selch to look. 

Her shard was right though, giving into her anger would just fuel the rapidly encroaching light within her soul. She had to stave it off as much as possible. And she refused to let the bastard have the satisfaction of tipping her over the edge just because he knew how to push her buttons.

For a moment she closed her eyes and in that time did the cracks stop and the air went back to normal. She opened them slightly to give off the same bored expression he had. “As if I’d get angry over the lies that spew out of your mouth; please.” She scoffed, half turning away.

“As I’ve stated before, hero, I have not uttered a single lie through this entire endeavor; about you least of all. You are what your are, a broken shell, a shattered remnant of what once was and what will be again once the one true god is resurrected.” 

“And how, pray tell, do you intend to bring back the dead? Even a god as powerful as yours couldn’t simply bring back every single one of your people without something drastic in return.” Y’shtola noted, hardened glance on Emet-Selch to see if he had an answer. Such a request was hardly an easy task and even Hydaelyn had no such ability to reanimate, though that was never her intended purpose.

Suddenly he smirked and he lifted his arms as if he were preaching the holy word of the one true God. “Once all the worlds have rejoined, we Ascians are to offer up the Source’s remaining inhabitants in sacrifice, that we might resurrect our brethren who died to bring Zodiark into existence. And thus, everything will go back to the way it was, the way it was meant to be.” He spoke with such lavish and conviction, a duty he was wholly dedicated to no matter what it took to achieve such an end. He had dedicated eons to restoring his people and if the First could be rejoined he was one step closer to that goal. Or at least he thought.

The room stiffened and Nua cursed under her breath as a result of this madness. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” She muttered, though she knew very well that he was not. “Back the way it was meant to be? Nothing is going to go back to the way it was ‘supposed’ to be, not after this. When everyone finds out you’ve killed billions just to bring them back to a doomed world, they will look up to you in horror.”

“You do not kn--”

“I know enough!” She turned to face him again, a very stern look on her face as she tried to keep her temper at bay even when she was hearing such nonsense coming out of his mouth. “I may not have all of my memories but I have enough to recount the tear between our people when you and the rest of the Convocation kept spilling blood for your god. How were we to safeguard the future of our people when you were butchering them in the present?!” 

“This can’t keep going, Emet-Selch, too many lives have already been lost.”

“We don’t have a choice, Zodiark needs more sacrifices so that he may restore the star.”

“Are you so blind that you don’t realize that it's killing the few we have left? We will have no future at this rate.”

“Fandaniel we’re doing the best we can. Zodiark is the star itself, it knows what it needs. Just a little bit more, he just needs a little bit more and everyone will--”

“Even if he does decide to finally answer our wishes, there will be nothing left for them but a city full of ghosts.”

“Where are you going?”

“To find a better solution.”

“Nothing good has ever come out of sacrificing those to a primal and Zodiark is no different.” Nua felt her chest congest as she waited for Emet-Selch’s response, waiting for him to show something, anything. But the bastard was never one to give what she would have wanted, no, he just decided to be his usual uncaring self as he shook his head.

“Even now, after everything, you refuse to listen to reason. You think that it's unfair that you are subject to suffering? That your lives will be sacrificed for the ancients?”

“Of--”

“Look at me!” He demanded as his voice became unmasked and raw while he grabbed at her arm, forcing her to close the small gap between their bodies. “I have lived a thousand thousand of your lives! I have broken bread with you, fought with you, grown ill, grown old! Sired children and yes, welcomed death’s sweet embrace. For eons have I measured your worth and found you wanting! Too weak and feeble-minded to serve as stewards of any star!” His voice trembled as the one unoccupied hand shook with heated frustration as the other holding her in place squeezed with unnatural strength.

Nua did not flinch, not until she felt his soul again, caressing at her, snapping at the edges of her confines as gut-wrenching disgust vibrated through her being. She nearly buckled, feeling the hopelessness he felt for the inhabitants of the Source and the Shards. 

Not worthy. They cannot hope to be so. They are not our legacy. They are weak. They are feeble. Not worthy. notworthynotworthyNOTWORTHYNOTWORTHYNOTWORTHY--

The words spiraled out of control, filling her mind with endless chattering. She could hear her friends in the background shouting, but what she could not understand, nor was there any reason to. Slowly did she put up a hand, bidding them to cease, hoping that they wouldn’t be so foolish as to try and fight when it was obvious that the only person who could ever hope to stand up to Emet-Selch was her.

Then her soul screeched back, pushing back against his, stubbornly unmoving, unyielding. 

They are worthy. They can do this. We can do this. Give us a chance. We are strong. We can persevere. We are ALIVE! WE ARE WORTHY!

She intensified her feelings as much as she could; not that that said much. It was difficult due to most of her memories missing and unused to using her soul in this way. When she saw the small amount of amusement on his face, she knew that her efforts were anything but effective.

“Have you not learned that your ignorance and frailty begets only endless misery?” His voice, though soft, managed to drown out all possible others, causing them to grow quiet and still as his smile faded away. “How long do you mean to perpetuate this farce? How much more must I endure your bumbling interference?” Emet-Selch looked to her, eyes boring into her own, though she had a feeling that he wasn’t talking to her, not directly. He closed them briefly, seemingly contemplating before his eyes met with her other companions.

“Even if the world were to face true annihilation once more, do you honestly believe that half your number would sacrifice themselves to save the other? Of course they wouldn’t. And if you had witnessed history unfold as I have, you would have reached the same conclusion.” He said, still continuing his lecture in a softer version of his voice; of which he was not entirely wrong. 

A quiet sigh left his lips and his grip on her loosened enough where she could easily pull away; she did not. “I will bring back our brethren. Our Friends. Our loved ones. The world belongs to us and us alone.” 

I promise, Persephone. 

His fingers slowly loosened before lazily falling away before he turned his back to her, perhaps unable to gaze at her any longer, tired of fighting and tired of not being able to get his point across. Those words of his, that were meant for her hearing only, echoing in her mind as he started to walk away.

Hades!

Her soul reached out when verbal words would not, trying to coax him out of this fantasy he had been planning to bring about for eons. But he ignored her, heading out towards the door.

“Emet-Selch!” Amidst the buckling silence did Alphinaud manage to find his voice where Nua or the others could not. While the boy looked pained, his resolve was clear within his stable voice. “We understand. Truly. But it makes no difference. The ones you love are in the past. While ours are here in the present. One day, we too will be ashes and dust, but not today. Our time is not yet finished. We share your conviction… and that is why we will not abandon our course.” 

Such a way with words; Alphinaud was always better at them than Nua ever hoped to be. She thought actions were better; to feel, taste, breath, hear and see then to listen to a person speak words that were only made to impress others. Alphie managed that and more most of the time, but knowing Emet-Selch, knowing her Hades, it would not be possible. He was dedicated, he was so filled with insurmountable love that he would do insurmountable atrocities to achieve them.

Emet-Selch was silent, standing there, arms loosely hanging at his sides, posture slouched as if something heavy was weighing them down. At first Nua thought he would not bother arguing further, but then she felt fire. There was no heat, but she could feel something burning from him, his soul flickering and intensifying. She knew it well; the uncontainable rage that threatened to overtake one’s being. His back straightened slightly and Nua felt her gut clench. 

“You think us the same? You think your tattered soul of equal worth to those I lost?” His head turned ever so slightly, golden eyes constricted as he gritted his teeth. “Then come-- earn your place. Prove yourselves worthy to inherit this star.”  The burning pulsed, but within that flame of resentment Nua could feel a deep wound, a hurting chasm that could not be filled or healed. A grief that would not allow itself to be overcome.

And before them the golden doors opened, revealing a wall of fire and beyond a crumbling city full of despair, hopelessness and death.

“Behold, the coming oblivion. T’was the end of our era, and the beginning of our great work. A fitting backdrop… for your final judgement.”

#ffxiv #ffxiv shadowbringers #shadowbringers spoilers #5.0 spoilers #emet-selch #|| drabble

[tuwasduwillst]

Shadowbringers (pt 4/end)

This just has spoilers for everything, basically. :U I finished it and don’t feel like splitting stuff up because I have over 1k screenshots to go through...

Katana-bearing Centurion: Besides, there is but one hand that can make me whole again. My enemy... my friend...

He probably just says “friend” there in Japanese, but I don’t have my whole game switched, so I don’t get to know for sure. Good to know you’re still being weird, Zenos.

Don’t you smirk at me like that, mister.

Here’s Urianger being handsome, as usual

I hated fighting this old dude as Thancred.

1) I still can’t believe he can easily take out the WoL like he did

2) Stop making me be sword dudes!!

3) I get why they wanted people to see the dialogue here, but it was so slooooow and I died once near the end and had to do it all over again and ughhh, just go away

Ryne looks cute with her new hair and eyes, at least. :) Thancred is still a bad dad, but at least he’s doing better now... I guess.

Also, Urianger’s reaction to finding out that Thancred was paying attention to some of his talks about pixies was really good, haha.

...I wanna listen to Urianger give a pixie lecture...

Wow

This was something the game threw together when I asked it to pick recommended gear. It’s... some kind of look.

The Exarch/G’raha Tia is a qt. Y’know, I figured it was probably G’raha Tia, but I didn’t remember him being so short... and the lack of cat ears also made me doubt myself, haha.

I’m really glad I did the Crystal Tower stuff, though, because otherwise I’d... well, I’d still think that G’raha Tia/the Exarch is cute and like him a lot, but it wouldn’t have had the same impact.

I took a bunch of screenshots of Mikh’a. :U

& Emet-Selch, ofc

that one old dude: If you would pass me, you must endure all that I have learned on the battlefield... For I am a weapon forged in the fires of war!

~*oooh, I’m so scared of you and your tiny amount of health left*~

My MP doesn’t even have a dent in it, really. This is why I had such a hard time believing this dude could take out the WoL!! Even the first time we fought, I had tons of MP available to me and could’ve made a full recovery from being brought down to 1 HP. (...well, I have Benediction which is kind of cheating, but still.)

At least this was the last time I had to deal with him. He’s probably the worst thing about the expansion, which I guess I can deal with since the rest of it was so good.

Lots of really pretty screenshot opportunities in this expansion. c:

Mt. Gulg is something I thought was common to a bunch of FF games for some reason, but apparently it was in the original Final Fantasy, FFIX, and some random spin-off games. Weird.

How did Mikh’a hear him talking from that far away??

Emet-Selch has such a good design and you can tell that a lot of work was put into him. The expressions he makes, the way he stands and walks--it’s all unique to him and it makes him stand out a lot.

Even after everything that happened in the expansion, I’m really fond of him. They made the right move in having him kind of forge a more personal relationship with you/the WoL, because if he hadn’t been obnoxious in the background throughout most of the expansion it wouldn’t have been anywhere near as interesting/good as it ended up being.

I obviously chose to say that they were all Alphinaud’s assistants. :P

This little scene was so cute... lali-hos for everyone...

Crystal Exarch: Ugh! I would thank you not to shoot me!

I’m sorryyyyyy ; ~; You were there and I wanted to see what would happen!!!

Crystal Exarch: Ah heh... It may interest you to know that Mikh’a is a great hero in the land whence he hails. Some would say the greatest.

This little venture made me feel like I’d suddenly gotten married and adopted a child

(Which I’d be totally fine with, tbh.)

I loved this thing, actually!! I got to heal G’raha Tia, he healed me, we both healed our new tiny dwarf child, it was great.

c:

I’m still using the Mogrod. I’m never going to stop using it. Give me another thing that has a flower and swirly rainbows all over and maybe I’ll switch weapons, but until then? No.

...unless there’s, like... a really, really pretty plant weapon, especially if it matches Mikh’a’s outfit... but I don’t think there is.

I got to put my bubble on them. :D

He’s so cuuuuuute. And Mikh’a clearly agrees with my thoughts on him, considering the expression on his face when he looks at him.

One of the reasons I keep Mikh’a wearing the WHM gear is because I really like the contrast I get--a lot of the major characters wear black, so it looks nice when they stand next to each other. :D

Katana-bearing Centurion: The whereabouts of my one true friend, however--they interest me greatly. I but hope the beasts of this “First” are providing him proper sport.

Zenos is so funny to me. He just pops up like “did someone mention my friend” while his dad and Elidibus are having a serious conversation.

Innocence has beautiful hair and if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes I’d never believe that he was Vauthry.

You can kind of see @tarifu in this screenshot! :D

You can definitely see her here--wait... why is half the party wearing dwarf beard outfits...

This is probably weird to say, but I genuinely like when characters I play in games like this suffer/are in pain. Not, like... constantly. I just like it when NPCs get to express concern and you aren’t some kind of unbreakable hero 24/7. >_>

Obviously I was going to say his name, who wouldn’t.

This made me cry!! I thought he was dead. :C

But thankfully Emet-Selch didn’t want him dead, so he did not die.

...why’d he even need a gun? Has he always had a gun?

I wish I could just float off into the sky after ruining everything and being a big jerk

sad kitty

I died when I came here with Jack and Mari because I didn’t realize I was being targeted by the boss until it was too late. :,)

I got to practice using my shield, though!! I’m not used to having one so I’m not super great at remembering it exists and using it; the tether thing is a good visual for “this specific person is going to be damaged soon and a shield would be Good”. ...unless everyone’s bunched up and I can’t tell who has it until it’s too late, I guess.

I know I’m level 80 now, but there’s still a lot I haven’t done and I’m still trying to figure out what the best way to do things is sometimes... I still need to mess with my hotbars and stuff, actually. I think I might switch some things around more than I already have, because some useful things aren’t as easy to use as they could/should be and I’ve been wanting to mess around with stuff for a while. The Trust dungeons should be a really good opportunity to test new configurations! Or the squad dungeons, I guess. :/a

I’m still not Ardbert’s biggest fan, but I don’t dislike him.

Poor Urianger, getting stuck with the role of the only other person to know the Exarch’s plans. :(

& then everyone died going to the bottom of the sea and the game ended

I got to help put dwarf helmets on sineaters :U

I also remembered that I have fancy wings now, wheee

I got a nice new outfit after doing my last Healer role quest! :D I like it a lot~ The whites are brighter than the last outfit, and the bit in back accommodates his tail much better than the corset did.

I might play around with mixing and matching some pieces once I get newer stuff, but for now this is what I’ve got! c:

...and I refuse to wear the hat. 100%. I’m not making Mikh’a look like a weird nun. :|

Amaurot was really good, even if being there mostly just made me sad. >_> The not-people were so cute and nice, though...

Big

The WoL hanging out on this giant bench is so cute.

I liked getting to talk to Emet-Selch’s friend. c: Well... kind of, anyway. Since it’s not really his friend...

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Emet-Selch: I have broken bread with you, fought with you, grown ill, grown old! Sired children and yes, welcomed death’s sweet embrace.

I still don’t 100% understand how Ascians work, but I guess it’s canon that Emet-Selch fucks :/a

I regret typing that, I think, but it is apparently true

i think your fireplace has something wrong with it

Really though, this dungeon was excellent.

Alisaie decided that she wanted to LB right as one of the bosses was doing one of those “hide behind a rock Or You Will Die” things so she died & I accidentally walked right off the edge near the end of the last boss fight (oops), but other than that things went okay!

D:

ardbert could you please clean your axe somehow before you point it at me like that. tia

This was a really neat moment :U

I’m not calling Emet-Selch Hades ever. Sorry, Emet-Selch.

I was kind of afraid to do this trial and almost waited until someone would be able to do it with me, but it really wasn’t that bad in the end!

...except for when I died five times to the same attack... orz It was that arm-sweeping one, too, so it’s not like it’s not obvious that it’s coming. My problem was that I kept getting Raised in bad places right before it happened, so he basically just kept smacking me down over and over again.

(Which was partially my fault, because I should’ve waited to accept the Raise until I knew it was safe to be alive, but... I don’t like leaving the other healer alone and I don’t want to just be lying there uselessly if I can avoid it.)

Fortunately(?) the party wiped due to something completely unrelated (a failed mechanic I had nothing to do with) and I didn’t die at all the second time around! So at least there was that.

I liked this bit in the dark. c:

I also liked when I got trapped in the bubble and didn’t have to do anything. Thanks, Emet-Selch!

Genuinely though, it was a nice little chance for me to calm the hell down because my anxiety was getting real bad before/during this fight. >_>

Poor dude. :c Obviously he’s responsible for some absolutely terrible things and I’m not going to try to deny that or anything, but he’s lived for so long and he’s had to deal with the loss of basically everyone he ever cared about for that whole time. He recreated that entire city and all of its people, that’s how much he cared.

Still no excuse for basically trying to kill all of the people he didn’t consider “real”! But also still sad, IMO.

This made me go “awww” out loud and start to tear up, haha...

I didn’t want to leave him ; ~;

Estinien said a full sentence here about how these guards were dead, too (in a way that implied he assumed that’s what they’d find), and the localization translated it as “hmph”. Kind of a weird choice there, but okay.

Zenos basically went Full Yandere since he killed his father just because he could potentially get in the way of his thing with the WoL, so... that’s something that’s going to have to be dealt with at some point.

I’m interested in seeing how things go, but I’m also a wee bit concerned that other people might get caught up in whatever this obsession is. I don’t want anyone to get hurt or killed because of Zenos’s yandere tendencies. :(

Elidibus is being Boring on the moon.

But who cares about that! I got to lead a Girl Scout meeting for my level 80 WHM quest.

Oh! Almost forgot about the story I got to tell the girls: “The tale of a man who crossed time and space to save the world... and me.”

I think the second one is about (original) Minfilia, maybe? :/a I wanted to tell them about G’raha Tia, though.

Aaaand that’s all I’ve done! \o/ I unlocked a new dungeon and I know there’s more than one post-80 dungeon, so I’ll probably check those out when I get a chance... but I finished the main stuff.

Which is kinda weird, because now I’m done again, haha... but I’ve got plenty of stuff to do before the next new stuff comes out. Especially since I discovered that Vamo alla Flamenco is the “dancer’s theme”, apparently. Need to dance ASAP >:O

#game: ffxiv