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mirageofthecrystal · 2 years

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Junelezen 2022 - Day 7 I Warrior of Light

"The Warrior of Light. Now known as the Defender of Eorzea, the one who brought an end to the Dragonsong War, the liberator of Ala Mhigo and Doma both, one who has walked other worlds and prevented another calamity, and of course one of the people responsible for rescuing our star from the Final Days. Everyone across the star knows the tale of the Warrior of Light, their humble beginnings as an adventurer and their progression into veritable legend. And though I've never met the Warrior of Light in any meaningful capacity, I have served in some of the same battles where their name was made, and even at one point in my life found them as an adversary to the goals I had myself aligned to. I have both cursed and praised them in different breaths, and I will even admit that I only stand here with my life because of their actions.

I commit my thoughts to these memoirs not to give a recounting or retelling of this hero's actions, as I am sure many others will have accomplished such a feat long before I and long after as well, and perhaps their tell is still unfolding just beyond my sight. No, the purpose of enshrining the Warrior of Light in these pages is simply to underscore their own role in my story, for their actions have rippled outward across the star, and altered so many of our destinies.

When I stood alongside Lady Iceheart and her Harriers, we were at first pursued by this hero and their allies. But not once did Ysayle fear the power of the Warrior of Light. In her eyes I saw shades of understanding, of defiance, and of hope. Hope that her words, her truth, could sway them to the truth, rather than allowing such a vaunted personage to be tainted by the lies of the Holy See and play the part of its puppet. She would give her life for her belief in the Warrior of Light, confident in the thought that they would be the one to seal the peace for which she so strived.

And though we followed Ysayle without question most times, her sacrifice was baffling to some. There were those blinded by their grief, who believed she had been tricked into throwing her life away so as to remove her as an obstacle, to kill the fight for which we had bleed and died. Many wept and mourned, a soul of good and strength robbed from us far too soon. I was almost broken by it myself, losing heart in our fight without her comforting words and inspiring rhetoric to rally us. But I knew that she would have wanted us to continue on our path, to keep forging towards the future she desired for us. And I knew that if Ysayle had any other wish, it was that our trust would be placed in the Warrior of Light, who shared her blessing and her curse, to be burdened with the truths etched into our very souls.

As I said, I have stood upon the field of battle knowing that our odds were poor, but that our success was all but guaranteed so long as we kept steadfast. The Warrior of Light had a knack of arriving precisely when needed, when we were on the brink of falling, and their mere presence on the field would alight us with an infectious hope and ferocious flame. And it was by their actions, by their words and deeds and perseverance, that I would at long last walk the Steps of Faith and look upon the spires of my home. A light to scour the darkness, illuminating the truth and setting us free from the lies which ensnare us. Ysayle said those words to me once, describing what she believed the Echo to be. And I cannot help but attribute this to the Warrior of Light as well, who burns not only the same blessing, but the same unimaginable heart that once burned within our fallen leader.

And thus, I would say thanks to the Warrior of Light. Not for saving our people, our star, but for saving us, our ideals, our families, our hope. It is not their strength of arms but the power of their conviction that we should learn from, so that all those who have lost their way might have a path to follow home."

- Excerpt from the personal journal and accounts of Ser Faiolan Penderghast, Knight of the Heaven's Ward

(A bit shorter than my previous works, but I felt like this particular prompt meant something different for my character, not being the WoL themselves, and a continuation of my previous post on Ysayle. I'm also slowly working to make up the days I missed, with the new job and all, but tomorrow is my birthday so I dunno how many of these I'll have the energy to write before Monday rears its ugly head.)

#junelezen 2022 #junelezen #ffxiv blogging #ffxiv crystal #ffxiv #ffxiv mateus #faiolan penderghast #ffxiv roleplay #ffxiv rp #warrior of light

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aerialsquid · 2 years

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FFXIV Write: Day 4

Day 4: Narrative (Extra Credit Day)

[An excerpt from the Mithril Eye's entertainment review section]

Well, this one's kind of a doozy, folks. Obviously this isn't the first Garlean play we've reviewed, more apolitical pieces have even had some minor success in Eorzea proper. Still, I'm pretty sure I only got an invitation to this one because Garlemald thinks it'll be good psyops, so take the whole matter with a lick of salt.

"The Fall of the Black Wolf" is an alleged depiction of the days leading up to the battle between Eorzean forces and the XIVth Legion, ending in the death of Legatus Gaius van Balsar at the hands of the Warrior of Light. Alleged.

First, the positives. The cast and crew of the Majestic Theater Company are obviously skilled performers doing their damnedest to work through an impressively propagandistic script. Sibilant Stallion does an impressive job playing the "savage" Warrior of Light in a way that communicates a primal brutality, cutting an imposing figure in a horned helmet and broad armor. (I'm not sure the playwright actually knew what the Warrior of Light looked like, or even their gender, which is likely why the Warrior has so few speaking lines.) Opiter bas Saufeius is a bit longwinded as Gaius van Balsar, but even in the midst of yet another monologue there's a nuanced passion to him. There were times when even I found myself sympathizing with the heavy burden carried by the Black Wolf, who seems genuinely sad every time he has to conquer yet another barbarian tribe for their own good.

The effects are, obviously, done without the aid of glamours and despite these limitations I was blown away by what an Imperial budget can do. In particular the summoning of Garuda, played here by an impressive magitek puppet over fifteen feet high, was so lifelike that one would almost wonder if the actors had summoned the primal herself into the theater. Ultima is never shown in full, but the combination of sight and sound effects lend the impression that we are indeed in the presence of something massive and awe-inspiring. I would certainly recommend checking out the Majestic for literally any other play but this.

You're all waiting for the negatives, I'm sure, so let's get to them: the script is crap. I was insulted, all Eorzea was insulted, and I feel like the Garlean Empire should be insulted on their behalf. The writer has clearly never been outside of Garlemald in their life, so we get plot elements like Gridanian duskwight elves conspiring with sylphs to summon Garuda (yes, sylphs!). At one point Livia sas Junius (played by Statia bas Vipienas) is rescued from an Ul'dah blood cult, which I think is supposed to be their version of the Waking Sands massacre.

The lines are absolute nonsense, everyone is either a tragic hero, a slavering monster, or a withering victim. Or Cid Garlond (played by Caepio bas Aviola) , who this script seems to show as a misguided son figure to Gaius who is later brainwashed into being his enemy by the Eorzeans. As someone who personally met Cid Garlond during the afterparty for "Dragonsong Coda", I found it hard to square the maniacal mad scientist on the stage with the man who spent forty minutes plying me with questions about my dad's alchemical work and then nervously asked which of the people there was the Ishgardian dignitary he was actually supposed to be talking to.

I know this is propaganda but that doesn't mean it has to be bad art. Come on, Garlemald, step up your game.

#ffxivwrite2022 #gaius van baelsar

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darichonne · 2 years

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insta: @darichonne

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vellichor-virgo · 2 years

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manuscript search lxi

i’ve decided to challenge myself to fill out at least one tag game every day. today’s comes courtesy of @akindofmagictoo <3

my words are green, grey, glare, and gleam

green (from night’s daughter v0; extended just to really hammer in how iconic this entrance is):

“What’s happening here?” a silken voice breaks in.

Cool relief flooding through me, I send up a silent thanks to whatever god sent the distraction and turn around to behold my saviour.

Iliana approaches from behind the group of girls, every movement graceful, deliberate, and teeming with unshakeable confidence. Not just confidence—arrogance, so much of it she is practically dripping with it.

Gone is her green velvet dress from earlier in the day. Now she wears a plunging gown black as night, the bodice seemingly moulded to her willowy figure while the skirt fans out in layers of ruffled, glittering fabric. The black gown is accented with touches of brilliant golden jewelry: cuffs circling each arm, a series of chokers around her slender throat, earrings dangling from her ears that wink like earthbound stars. Her tawny-brown hair streams down her back, left unbound save for several strands woven into a circlet of braids around the crown of her head.

grey x2 (jasper!! from the nd x dragonsong crossover, which i need to get working on again soon):

Where am I? How did I get here?

“It’s alright,” says an unfamiliar male voice, startling me. My head jerks in the direction of the voice. A low pulse of panic goes through me at the sight of the man standing beside the bed. He’s tall and bearded, with tanned skin and greying dark hair. His face is stern, but there’s something like concern in his grey eyes as he looks down at me. “It’s alright,” he repeats. “You’re alright.”

glare (from my unfinished magic gang christmas piece):

Leo listened until [Nik’s] footsteps faded down the stairs before he levelled Caelan with a glare. “This is a new low, even for you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Caelan said evenly.

“Give it up. I might not be able to lie, but I know bullshit when I hear it. Especially your bullshit.”

“How dare you accuse me of—”

“Of faking sick in a shitty attempt to get out of Secret Santa, because you haven’t bought your present yet?” Leo interrupted.

Caelan opened his mouth, then shut it again.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

gleam (from night’s daughter v0):

I drift over to the table, but only end up picking at the food before pushing it away, too unsettled to eat. Outside, the moon gleams over a wash of stars in an odd, almost-full shape—waning after the eclipse. I can hardly believe that was only three days ago.

My old life feels too close and, at the same time, too far away.

i'll tag @chaotic-queer-disaster @talesofsorrowandofruin @sleepy-night-child @oh-no-another-idea @asomeoneperson @ashen-crest @albatris and whoever else would like to join in!

new words: life, left, look, and lie

#i'd like everyone to know that caelan did not simply fake a headache #he in fact thought it would be a brilliant idea to fake appendicitis and make everyone think he was dying #his problem solving skils are. simply incredible #tag games #manuscript search tag #searching circle #my writing #night's daughter: excerpt #ch: celena #ch: iliana #magic gang #ch: caelan #ch: leo #friendship: caelan x leo #night's daughter x dragonsong

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rosiewritesandrambles · 3 years

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manuscript search tag game

Thank you so much for the tag, @akindofmagictoo! I loved getting to read the excerpts from Dragonsong! And excellent word selections 😊

My words are: summer, seal, sell, sing

Summer (Here and Now)

The hallway was largely empty; the majority of the students gone for the summer holidays and the rest of the returning class assembled in the green for the reunion festivities. The thin paper streamers had already been snapped to tatters in the wind by the time Conall had driven up, and the collecting clouds had cast the entire campus in grayscale, but if the buzz from across the grounds was to be believed, neither of these had dulled the festivities. Conall suspected, however, that knowledge of his presence would.

Seal (Here and Now)

Dr. Sullivan had led him briskly to his office, sealing the door with a locking sigil while he made quick revisions to the theory. Conall had wrung his fingers together and waited while the shaking began to infect the building from its foundation.

Sell (Aunt Madeline and Her Oughts)

The cement benches surrounding the fountain were still somewhat damp from the previous night’s rain, leaving the park largely empty. Isaac had been able to take up one in its entirety because of this, lining up his charcoals along the stone, and propping up his sketchpad between his knees.

“He’ll follow you around until you get rid of him properly.”

“I can’t exactly sell an empty canvas at auction,” Isaac pointed out. “And it’d do no good to destroy the original painting if he’s not in it.”

Sing (Untitled)

Dusk had just fallen, and a coalition of performers were returning from a show, clad in a mix of strange costumes, and the simple underclothes worn underneath them. It may have been an unusual sight a year ago, but the troupe had been living on the edge of town for three months now, and the citizens seemed to have begrudgingly come to accept their presence in the confused and mystified way that non-theater people accepted theater people, without fully understanding them. The Peckingham company was loud and garishly dressed, but they were relatively harmless. And for twelve shows a week, people could put up with the noise, and the strange clothes, and the company of slightly eccentric individuals who wandered the streets after shows, musing and singing in the night air.

Tagging (without obligation!): @thegreatobsesso, @ashen-crest, @writing-is-a-martial-art, @the-finch-address, @author-a-holmes, @47crayons, @coffee-and-daydreams, and anyone else who wants to!

Your words are: storm, road, page, whisper

#thank you for tagging!#my writing #manuscript search tag #last snippet is from an older wip i'm stealing pieces from for a new project #may do an intro later if people are curious!

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ellatholmes · 3 years

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another one from Dragonsong -

She didn’t want to lose her position. She’d dreamed of it since she was seven years old. But was it really worth more to her than Enya’s life? More than any life?

Really, there was only one right answer.

- @akindofmagictoo

We love a little morality struggle! @akindofmagictoo <3

An excerpt from No Simple Fates: Her eyes gleaned needle-tip sharp. ‘They call you saviour now, but what will they call you if you fail?’ She disappeared like glass dropped in water, leaving my breath strangled in my chest.

✨ send me an ask with a line from your wip (don’t forget the name of your wip!!) and i reply with a line from mine that i think fits/matches the vibes ✨

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elfyourmother · 3 years

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👀

This is another one with the ot4 that’s been sitting on the back burner for a while. Mainly because I originally wanted Estinien to join the Scions with Haurchefant and Ysayle, immediately after Dragonsong. But come Shadowbringers I decided I liked Estinien’s storyline with Gaius too much to throw it out, so I decided he didn’t become a Scion until much later on, after his return from all of that in Garlemald during the ShB patches. Problem is this fic got jossed as a result and I haven’t figured out how to salvage it. (Which is why I don’t mind posting a longer excerpt, lord knows i have no idea if it’ll ever get completed)

The talk turned quickly to politics, as it was wont to do in those times, and the business which saw Gisele and Haurchefant make this brief journey to Ishgard.

“Bear you any news from the Gyr Abanian front?” Aymeric asked. “General Aldynn only sent word that the Resistance suffered a grievous defeat at Rhalgr’s Reach, and that they no longer had the might to move on Castellum Velodyna.”

Gisele lowered her eyes, along with her silver fork. “It was a massacre. Zenos yae Galvus himself led the slaughter, cutting them down...and I could do nothing to stop him. I brought every ounce of might to bear against him, but even with all my cunning, and all the arcane power at my disposal, I could only manage to fight him to a stalemate, and then he cast me down of sheer boredom.” She clenched her teeth, her jaw tensing at the memory of it; never had she felt so powerless, not even when thrice-damned Ilberd had manhandled and cast her to the marble floor of the Sultana’s palace the night of the bloody banquet. Zenos had put her to mind of that, in truth, and that was why it was such a canker on her soul. It was a humiliation she would not soon forget.

Estinien swallowed hard, after taking a long sip of wine. “I find that hard to believe, eikon-slayer, having been on the end of your wrath once,” he said.

“The Garlean crown prince holds the strength of an elder wyrm and more. It was like nothing I’d ever seen before,” Hauchefant added darkly. “I charged to Gisele’s side and he swatted me aside as though I were little more than a child’s rag doll. ’Tis unnatural, that manner of power. I know not the source of it; mayhap some manner of unholy magitek, like as not. But there is nothing on life like it...mayhap the ill-gotten power of the Heavens Ward. And the only reason we yet live to speak of it is because he ceased. As it stands, we lost too many comrades; we nearly lost Mistress Y’shtola, and ‘twas only Krile and Gisele’s prodigious healer’s arts which saved her.”

“By the Fury,” Aymeric breathed. He blinked hard. “What now, then, for the Alliance’s efforts?”

“Raubahn is holding our forces at Castrum Oriens; it is all he can do, now,” Gisele replied. “Meanwhile, we Scions intend to infiltrate Doma. Tataru booked us passage to the Far Eastern port of Kugane, in a matter of days. Haurche and I are setting sail, along with Lyse--and the Leveilleur twins, of course. We mean to seek out our Doman comrades, and see what we can do to aid their cause. If Doma can be freed at last, not only would it draw much needed attention away from Gyr Abania and split the Garlean forces, it would prove precisely the manner of victory we so desperately need in this campaign.”

Haurchefant nodded his agreement. “The Resistance was butchered at the Reach, and those who survive are thoroughly demoralized. A free Doma could prove a boon beyond even strategic purposes. If the Ala Mhigans see that Garlemald is not so invincible as her crown prince, that she can be bested, of a surety they shall flock to Master Kemp’s banner,” he added.

Aymeric pursed his lips. “The liberation of Doma seems a tall order, even for the Scions,” he said.

“Indeed it does,” Gisele admitted. “However, with Alphinaud’s tactical acumen and Haurchefant’s wealth of experience in warfare, I believe we can make a difference. And I know somewhat of raising armies, against the odds—I did so in Thedas, though it took a great deal of sacrifice and toil.”

“What of you, Estinien? Are you not joining our loves on their Far Eastern campaign?” Aymeric asked.

“No. I mean to go wyrm hunting one last time,” Estinien said, as he absently swirled his bread in the oil. “Nidhogg’s power flows through that accursed creature, as it once flowed through me of a time. Even now, the echo of it lingers upon my soul. I know little of such matters, but I believe that trace aetheric bond may be our best hope of tracking it down. Thus I remain in the West, to hunt the wyrm as only I can.”

“This is no mere wyrm, Estinien,” Aymeric said darkly. “This is a bedamned primal. You cannot possibly hope to defeat it on your own.”

“Shinryu is an abomination born of our folly,” Estinien retorted. “Not merely yours, or mine, but that of our treacherous ancestors who tore Nidhogg’s Eyes from him in the first place. And I should have destroyed those accursed Eyes in Azys Lla ‘ere Gisele slayed your father. In my blind arrogance, I did not, and I paid a price beyond counting—as did we all. By my own deeds has this hunt fallen to me.”

Aymeric’s nostrils flared, and his knuckles turned white. “It is a primal!” he countered a second time, more forcefully than the first, his tongue sharp about each syllable. “What shall you do should you meet your quarry, bearing no Echo to shield you from its influence? Tis a fool’s gambit!”

“You will not turn me from this, no matter your fears born of sentiment—”

“I cannot lose you, Estinien!” Aymeric cried, in a rather uncharacteristic outburst, fair leaping to his feet. He paced a moment before the mantle and steadied himself, raising a trembling hand to his brow and took a deep breath before speaking. “By the Fury, I nearly lost you to Nidhogg’s rage. I could not bear seeing you so enthralled, kept a prisoner in your own flesh. And I could not endure it a second time--I could not bear to see you tempered. I am not nearly so strong as you believe. I cannot lose you Estinien. Not now, not when...”

Estinien rose from his chair and crossed the distance between them; with unwonted tenderness, that gentleness he only ever revealed to them and them alone, he reached up with his hands and took Aymeric’s face into his own. Aymeric shut his eyes—against tears, Gisele could see with her keen vision, the crystalline droplets gathered upon his long, dark lashes. Estinien brushed them aside with his thumbs, and leaned into Aymeric, parting his lips with his tongue. The dragoon always seemed most content to let his passion-filled heart speak for him, and it did, of a surety; Aymeric fair melted in his grasp, leaning into Estinien’s kiss. Gisele’s chest swelled with warmth at the sight of it, and she smiled tenderly at them, reaching for Haurchefant’s hand beneath the table. They exchanged a fond glance, sidelong and knowing. In truth, it was Aymeric and Estinien’s boundless love for one another that drew Gisele to each of them, as much as each knight’s individual qualities, and she knew Haurchefant felt much the same way.

After a long moment, Estinien pulled away from Aymeric, and did speak. “I am no fool swinging a spear, Aymeric de Borel. Nor am I consumed by mere lust for vengeance. I have somewhat else to live for—other fires burn in my heart now, and ever shall. You were the first to show me that, so long ago, and now I have even more to cherish. But I must stop this abomination. Gisele’s comrade died in the service of this aim, and I shall not allow that sacrifice to have been made in vain, not so long as I have the power to do so and I still draw breath,” he said.

“It ought to be me. The fault is mine, and mine alone. I was careless, casting the bloody things into the chasm of a moment. I feared Gisele and Alphinaud would succumb to their power, as you did,” Aymeric argued. “This is my doing, and I should see this through.”

“Gentlemen, this is fruitless,” Haurchefant interjected, shaking his head. “Regardless of where the fault lies, Aymeric, Estinien shall not be alone in this endeavor, I assure you. Lest you forget, above all else, the Scions of the Seventh Dawn are sworn to end the primal threat. Ysayle shall remain in the West with Krile for this very reason—it needs fall to us to deal with Shinryu, and as the newest member of this esteemed order, one bearing the gift of the Echo no less, she has taken it as her charge. You cannot afford to divert the Temple Knights from Ala Mhigo, at any rate. Any weakening of the Alliance’s forces there shall all but throw up a white flag to the Garleans, and we’d likely lose Oriens and the Wall. So permit the Scions do what we are sworn to do, love.”

“The moment I find the wyrm, I shall call upon Ysayle. I swear it by the Fury,” Estinien vowed.

Gisele nodded. “She is all but recovered from her injuries now, and is aiding Urianger in his research at the Waking Sands. Even without the power of a primal, Ysayle is a formidable black mage and summoner—do not forget that she has already aided in slaying one primal, and did so without the benefit of Shiva. That Shinryu is more powerful by orders of magnitude than Ravana is not something that especially concerns me. She still bears the Echo, as much as I. She can protect Estinien, if needs be. And if I must needs spend the sum of my aether to fly to their side, I shall.”

“That you should join them in this endeavor does not soothe my ache, Gisele,” Aymeric said with a sigh. “But you make too much sense, all of you. My mind knows you speak truth. I only wish my heart shared its certainty.”

“Please. Let us not spend this night together fearful and full of strife. We may not have another together like this for quite some time,” Haurchefant said. “And your gratin grows cold!”

#wips #end of year fic meme #but yeah this is going to be about when they decided to secretly get married #i just dont know how to make it work now is the issue #faejilly #ask bisho

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akindofmagictoo · 3 months

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DRAGONSONG: draft 2 update: 06/01

previous word count: 0

current word count: 8,383

notes: the draft is officially begun and i made a lot of progress! i expect this will get weirder as i divert more and more from draft 1, but hey, we like an easy start. (and there were definitely things that changed!)

[edit: if you thought this word count said 6598 earlier... i got inspired and did more writing hehe]

snippet:

Every movement of her armour echoed off the stone. Isi hoped the dragon would not be alerted to her presence too soon… but then again, it had likely already been disturbed by the quake. And taking her armour off would be an even worse idea. That thought was only further validated when the tunnel opened out into a larger cave, and they caught their first glimpse of the dragon. A small crack in the stone high above them offered just enough light to see the creature. Pale pink, significantly larger than any creature Isi had ever seen… and asleep, it seemed, curled up in a nest of sorts against the far wall. Its scaly sides rose and fell, slowly but rhythmically. Isi paused; the dragon seemed to be no threat right at that moment, so she could take her time. A sweet smell lingered in the cave. The dragon’s nest seemed to be the source: plants and flowers of all colours and sorts stuck out of it, flattened under the dragon’s weight. “It’s beautiful,” breathed Robin behind her. Isi took a deep, slow breath. “It is.” Truly, she had never seen anything like it. And she had orders to kill it.

TAGLIST

@isherwoodj @metanoiamorii @lilmissravingwriter @weekofwednesdays @the-unwrittenwriter @talesofsorrowandofruin @little-boats-on-a-lake @teriwrites @magicalwriting @magic-is-something-we-create @writingbyjillian @waysofink @perditism @thehellinsideyourhead @calicowrites @vellichor-virgo @google-plexed @therecouldbecolorsandlove @the-orangeauthor @ellatholmes @happyorogeny @ladywithalamp @ashen-crest @authortango @strangerays @moononherwings @nikkywrites @ambersky0319 @ambsthom @talesfromgringolandia @wickerring @wizardfromthesea @diphthongsfordays @e-lisard @enchanted-lightning-aes @emscribblings @teardropsandtherain @lowslore @fablewritten @copper-dragon-in-disguise @dirtybarkshark

#wip dragonsong #dragonsong excerpt #dragonsong draft 2 progress #< not sure if i'm going to taglist every time but you can follow this tag if you want #going to try and do an update every day i work on this draft #dragonsong isi #dragonsong robin #dragonsong bedelia

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windup-gwen · 3 years

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a/n: an excerpt from a longer WIP that I don’t know if I’ll ever post. At least I can use it as a very abstract contribution to today’s entry of #febhyurary

title: glamour | rating: teen & up | word count: approx. 1000 | characters: guinevere talon/warrior of light, y'shtola rhul | setting: shortly after the dragonsong war

–

The sight of a light party brought a smile to her face. It wasn't rare to see dragoons jumping around the Lancer's guild in Gridania, showing off in front of the new recruits or paying a visit to old mentors. As she followed the trace of their spears, her eyes lowered to the female dragoon's exposed belly. Since the moment she received her amor from Alberic she thought it was ridiculous, specially under the harsh winds of Coerthas. She wondered how funny it would look on her now.

Her body hadn't changed that much in such a short time, but she could feel every minimal variation. Her abdomen was still flat, but her abs were softening under her ribcage, and the healthy pocket of fat she'd never been able to lose had grown a little since she last checked. She wasn't sure her tight dragoon armor would fit her now, nor anytime soon.

With the hearing of footsteps getting closer, her smile vanished.

"I had the feeling I'd find you here," Y'shtola said, leaning on the railing right next to her. "You shouldn't turn off your linkpearl, you know. You had everyone worried."

"Am I to blame for wanting some time for myself? I think I earned it."

"And you did, but that doesn't mean that they aren't a little on edge."

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Right. Whatever."

Still, she didn't attempt to move. Five more minutes wouldn't hurt anyone. Y'shtola did neither, as she drummed her fingers, humming lightly.

"I know we've never been the best of friends. Not that I've ever made an effort to change that, but..." She shook her head. "I'm just trying to say – I understand you didn't tell me of all people right away, but trying to keep it a secret? That's mean."

The Midlander looked at her sideways. "I beg your pardon?"

Y'shtola seemed to be taken aback. "Guinevere, you do know you are pregnant, right?"

Oh. That.

"I... do, aye. But I haven't told anyone else, not just you." She sighed. Well, almost anyone. "How did you find out?"

"Your aether," she answered inmediately, as if it were obvious. "It has changed, grown considerably in just a few weeks. I did some research, and found my answer." Guinevere placed her hands on her belly, as if she could feel that growth on her fingertips the same way she did. Y'shtola's eyes were wide open, and she could read her curiosity in them, even if the white fog veiled her features. "And... You haven't told the others because you don't know what to do, or...?"

"Still thinking about it, aye. The risks are too high, and the timing couldn't be worse, I know, but..." She gestured vaguely. "Since Hydaelyn awakened the Echo in me I haven't had any choice but to follow her path. I cannot just not slay eikons, I cannot let the Ascians or the Empire have their ways in Eorzea. I had to involved in the Dragonsong War. But I have a choice in this, and I want to make things right."

Guinevere blurted it all out, her whole heart, to Y'shtola. She didn't think they ever had shared so many words – at least without Vicky around trying to make them become friends. And she had the feeling she was really listening to her, without second intentions, with more than morbid curiosity. She couldn't exactly tell why, mayhap she was an idiot and it was just her blindness making her look nicer and more innocent now, but she didn't feel any bad by talking to her about this. Y'shtola dared to push things a little further, patted her shoulder and asked:

"What does the father think about this?"

"I wouldn't know. He died before I found out."

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright." Guinevere smiled bitterly. "I think he would have been excited about it. He was excited about everything."

The dragoons cheered over the victory of one of them, and the laughter of the defeated echoed their yelling. Her time at the guild had never been so blissful. It was almost hard to believe she once stood in the same ground as them – but her path seemed meant to always be the most difficult one. Another reason to be sensible and simply not bring a child to this world.

"It's pointless to think about it now," she told Y'shtola. "It only makes me feel like I'm betraying his memory, or whatever shite my brain is trying to drown me into. If I have it, it has to be my decision."

The Miqo'te tilted her head. "Mayhap we should best talk about this over a cup of tea. I can tell Alisaie we'll delay a little. I believe you don't still need them, but we could discuss glamour spells I could cast upon you to disguise your belly, and I know a variety of shells and protections for when you inevitably show up in the battlefield."

Dubious, Guinevere arched an eyebrow. "You... would do that? Why? You said it yourself, we're not friends."

"Mayhap I want us to be."

"Look, if this is because I helped bring you back from the aetheric currents..."

"It is not." Y'shtola rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, I am fully aware I owe you naught. For real, I don't know do you get everyone to love you so much when you are so defensive all the time."

She scoffed. "That makes the two of us."

But she bit her inner cheek. This was something she never expected to happen, and felt grateful the Miqo'te wasn't able to see the light blush that covered her cheeks. It was a nice feeling for once, though. She swallowed all the other mean replies she could spite her back, and simply murmured:

"Thanks. You... It's nice of you to offer. I didn't know glamours could do that."

Y'shtola's smile was radiant under her usual smugness. "My, my, but who taught you conjuring? Or thaumaturgy, for that matter? You can't call yourself a mage if you don't even know how a simple glamour works."

"I'm starting to regret this..."

Mayhap this was the start of a new friendship. If Vicky could see them now...

#ffxiv #writing: mine #guinevere talon #y'shtola rhul #febhyurary

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darichonne · 3 years

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insta: @darichonne

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efrmellifer · 4 years

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Beloved Treasure

this is just a thing I do for my friends’ ships (though I’ve done it for Aytien, too) and I had to reinforce the True Ship after last night ;D

An excerpt from a history of the areas within and around Coerthas

When Ishgard had gotten her affairs in order regarding reconstructing damaged areas of the city, and forming the appropriate agreements with the other nations surrounding, then they began to improve the region around them, using their manpower for better, turning axes toward logging rather than battle. But that wasn’t all. They couldn’t make everyone walk.

So they turned their focus to making it easier to get around the whole region, while they improved it.

For instance, it was deemed imperative that the journey to Moghome and parts of Sohm Al be made less perilous for those desiring to make it more casually, those who wouldn’t be traveling with packs of trained warriors or guards, the way the Warrior of Light had, and Kan-E-Senna as well, in the days of the Dragonsong War.

It was devised, rather as a matter of course, that an airship was the best way to get people from the land near Tailfeather up to the islands above, and they called upon the Garlond Ironworks, still following the traditions of the founder and his top staff, to create it.

They needed, however, a name for the vessel. Many names were tossed back and forth, including plants, indications of the ship’s purpose, and women’s names of Dravania, Ishgard, and Moghome alike.

The debate raged on until it was suggested, though whose suggestion it was has been lost to time, that the vessel be named like any other ship, that it be given a name to inspire awe in those who saw its voyages.

It was named The Treasure of Nidhogg.

This struck the council assembled as an excellent idea, for many (if not all of them) knew the story.

As it was told, for a final note to end the Dragonsong War, a Miqo’te maid had been brought to the Aery and offered to Nidhogg as a bride.

At the time, people were mourning her before she had gone, treating her dressing for the journey as dressing to go to the grave, but by some stroke of her genius, or her beauty, or something that had intrigued the wyrm, they had become so enamored with each other than soon their love was compared to that of Hraesvelgr and Shiva a millenium before their time.

Nidhogg was calmed, his passionate hatred for the mortals of Ishgard transformed into equally passionate love for only this mortal sharing his home and partaking of his affections.

It was an inspiration, knowing what a love so fearless and unconditional could accomplish. Save lives, even.

And the name would strike awe into the hearts of passengers and spectators alike, because how could one fear riding to the skies in a vessel named after the woman who had dared to offer herself to a great wyrm and come not only to pacify an ancient anger, but capture his heart?

She was the kind of woman you would want guiding you to the heavens, so near to her beloved’s home.

She lived still, it was said, being blessed with immortality by the dragon who had claimed her as his sole, finest treasure. Long may she, the council agreed, that the ship bestowed with her title could have so long and successful a lifetime as she.

The vessel would be a boon to all of Dravania, to parts of Sohm Al, to all who were to receive of its benefits, but it would only be an echo of the boon the true Treasure of Nidhogg had been to the land.

#Daehogg #fic

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ofdragonsdeep · 3 years

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Information

The Basics –––

Name: Ar'telan Qin ("Art")

Age: 30s

Birthday: 22nd Sun of the First Umbral Moon (20th February)

Race: Miqo'te (Moon Keeper)

Gender: Male (Cis)

Sexuality: Homosexual

Marital Status: Complicated

Server: Zodiark [Light]

Physical Appearance –––

Hair: Dark blue with white tips

Eyes: Amber yellow, but his left eye is blind and clouded over

Height: Short

Build: Slim (recovering from malnourishment), but is building muscle

Distinguishing Marks: Small scar on his lip, long horizontal neck scar (always covered). Has many traditional miqo'te tribal tattoos and war paints.

Common Accessories: Often wears flowers in his hair, and always has some sort of cloth neck covering on.

Personal –––

Profession: Drifting between Gatherer and Crafter in the Ishgard area

Hobbies: Enjoys gardening, likes music but hasn't found the time to learn.

Languages: Understands Meracydian and Eorzean, but is mute and communicates via Echo-translated sign language.

Residence: Has a house in the Lavender Beds that he spends a lot of time in, and is often found in Ishgard.

Birthplace: Meracydia

Religion: None

Patron Deity: Llymlean, the Wanderer

Fears: Being silenced - he hates people grabbing his hands. Wary of being sick with fever.

Relationships –––

Significant Other: None

Parents: Dead

Siblings: None

Other Relatives: None

Pets: Has a baby nanka which he goes to great lengths to protect from goblins and other creatures which might want it dead.

Traits –––

Extroverted / In Between / [[Introverted]]

Disorganized / [[In Between]] / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / [[Open Minded]]

[[Calm]] / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / [[Agreeable]]

Cautious / [[In Between]] / Reckless

[[Patient]] / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / [[Reserved]]

Leader / In Between / [[Follower]]

[[Empathetic]] / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / [[In Between]] / Pessimistic

[[Traditional]] / In Between / Modern

[[Hard-working]] / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / [[In Between]] / Uncultured

[[Loyal]] / In Between / Disloyal

[[Faithful]] / In Between / Unfaithful

Additional information –––

Smoking Habit: No.

Drugs: Never.

Alcohol: Doesn't really drink, but isn't against the practice.

His name: Ar'telan was found orphaned in the woods of Meracydia, and taken in by a tribe of sun seekers, where he had the name R'telan Tia. After the events of the 7th Calamity, he left the tribe and his home island for a variety of reasons, changing his name to reflect the severing of ties.

He prefers to be called "Art" if you're going to shorten his name, but won't object to Telan either.

His voice: Ar'telan was rendered mute by a series of events surrounding the Calamity. He can vocalise a few basic sounds, but his vocal chords and tongue were both damaged badly enough that conventional speech is now beyond him. He communicates instead with a form of self-designed sign language, and his expression of the Echo allows other people to understand him - at least, when it works.

RP Hooks –––

[[A Fellow Gatherer.]] Ar'telan is always happy to meet other people who enjoy any of the gathering professions of Eorzea, and will happily accompany people on expeditions to find things - so long as they don't mind a quieter companion. He is particularly keen on fishing, and has a number of prints displayed in his house that he is delighted to talk about. He also has a bit of a reputation in the Firmament as someone who was a bit *too* keen on handing in Blind Mantas.

[[Knight of the Realm.]] Ar'telan spent a lot of time on the front lines during the Dragonsong war, at least once Ishgard allowed outsiders in. In particular, he spent a lot of time as an acting chirurgeon, and trained with the Knights in Dragonhead, eventually becoming a free paladin. Though not keen to talk about the war, and the people he lost, he nevertheless connects with fellow veterans quickly.

[[A Scholar?]] Ar'telan's reading level is quite poor, and he learned the majority of his Eorzean letters on old copies of the *Enchiridion*. He is quite embarrassed by his poor literacy, but is keen to learn regardless.

OOC –––

I'm Senny, a 30+ Brit with a number of disabilities. I have a long love of writing and familiarity with RPing on forums and through D&D/other TTRPG games, but have never RP'd on an MMO before, so I consider myself something of a newbie still!

I've played FFXIV since early Heavensward, and have just now plucked up the courage to start reaching out to the RPing community, mostly because upcoming DC travel will probably make it easier. Though I'm UK-based, I'm quite a night owl, and can be found online in the afternoon/night UK-wise, at more conventional american times.

RP-wise I'm looking for friendly/platonic RP exclusively, venue doesn't much bother me. My RP blog will also feature excerpts from my solo works with Ar'telan as the Warrior of Light, which I don't consider canon for roleplay purposes (obviously!). Things will hopefully be tagged appropriately!

Contact –––

I can be reached on this blog or @mirateski, and on discord at ar'telan#5175, as well as in game. These days I tend to log in *for* something rather than to hang out, so I will likely be easier to reach outside the game for the time being.

#I'm still learning please be kind ><#ff14 #ff14 rp #I stole this info format from an RP blog and I don't even feel bad #ok maybe a little bad

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vellichor-virgo · 2 years

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manuscript search lix

another one from @akindofmagictoo! my words are hungry, thirsty, hot, and cold

hungry (from circle of hurt) (TW: romantic feelings. also nik is a bit drunk)

Nik was no more able to resist the lure of Caelan’s presence than water was able to resist rolling downhill. He slunk away from the drinks table to make his way through the crowd. He wasn’t quite brave enough—nor drunk enough—to work up the courage to approach Caelan directly, but his eyes stayed locked on him through the chaos of the party, like a compass needle pointing north. Part of him hoped, with a hungry longing Nik hated himself for, that Caelan would turn and spot him. That his sky-blue eyes would light up at the sight of Nik. That that smile, brilliant enough to light up the night, would spread across his eternally sun-kissed face. That he’d lift a hand and beckon Nik over, as eager for Nik’s company as Nik was for his.

(then you switch to Caelan’s POV and his only thoughts are nik nik nik nik nik. these boys really be pining)

thirsty (from night’s daughter)

“So I am to be your solution?” I ask slowly. Shock makes me forget my manners, forget how I should address my king. [...] “You want to put me on display for the other kingdoms, a poor village girl rescued from a mob of her bloodthirsty neighbours and put up in the palace, to show your generosity and care for your subjects. To dissolve the tensions between you.”

hot (from the night's daughter x dragonsong crossover-in-progress! look who's made her appearance!):

The dragon lands on the ground beside me with a soft flutter of its wings. It draws close, pushing its scaled snout toward my face. Its breath falls hot on my cheek. My mouth opens, but my voice gets stuck somewhere in my throat.

The last thing I feel is the brush of scales against my burning skin. Then darkness crackles across my vision, and the world dissolves to nothing.

cold (from my unfinished magic gang christmas piece) (TW: romance, kisses)

for context, adreanna made caelan's californian light elf ass shovel her driveway and he has not stopped complaining about it since

“Come sit down,” Caelan whined at Nik, holding out his arms. He was sitting as close to the fireplace as he could possibly get without catching on fire, a fluffy blanket wound around him like a cape. “I’m dying of hypothermia, and you’re more worried about Drea’s childhood arts-and-crafts?”

Nik rolled his eyes, but headed in his direction. “That was two hours ago. You’re fine.”

Caelan tried and failed to hide his grin when Nik settled into his lap. He wrapped his arms and the blanket around him. “Am not,” he protested. “I’m still cold. Look.”

He leaned forward and pressed his chilled lips against the curve of Nik’s neck. Nik jolted, nearly spilling Caelan’s drink. His cheeks flamed, and Caelan smirked.

i shall tag @willowiswriting @kaiusvnoir @ambsthom @bloodandmonsters @ashen-crest @rose-bookblood @oh-no-another-idea @magic-is-something-we-create & whoever else would like to join in!

new words: whine, flutter, tension, and lure

#lots of nik & cae content in this one #tag games #manuscript search tag #searching circle #my writing #night's daughter: excerpt #magic gang #ch: caelan #ch: nik #ship: caelan x nik #circle of hurt #night's daughter x dragonsong

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