#ffxivwrite2020 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

autumnslance · 1 year

Text

Soon...

In FFXIVWrite2020, I wrote a prompt near the end about a secret Alberic kept, concerning my WoL, Aeryn's, past. In FFXIVWrite2021, I ended up writing quite a few more prompts about that, creating a story about Corran Striker's actions, what Alberic did and why, and the dragon at the center of it all, an ancient red named Avengret.

I've finally gotten a draft more or less hammered out; re-ordering, revising, adding, removing, and shuffling the original prompts into an actual (I hope) story. I'll be posting to Ao3 every few days, with notifications here on Tumblr (and probably other places).

In the meantime, the initial prompts in their original versions and order for perusal (and for me to see how very much I've done with this...). Set in that nebulous time between the very end of Shadowbringers and the start of Endwalker, there might be some random out of context spoilers for sprouts not through those expansions yet.

1. Paternal - X’rhun discovers a past truth Alberic keeps hidden. 2. Aberrant - Backstory; Corran Striker starts his doomed path. 3. Scale - Backstory; more of Corran’s heretical history. 4. Baleful - Keeping the Warrior of Light out of trouble is tough. 5. Passion - Corran & Emelia’s spicy followup to “Aberrant” 6. Speculate - Backstory, Ser Alberic Bale seeing through a promise. 7. Friable - Backstory. Vignettes of Emelia’s POV over time. 8. Heady - A reason Alberic feared Aeryn meeting Avengret. 9. Preaching to the Choir - Brotherly understanding after “Heady.” 10. Strained - Immediate follow up to "Preaching", more Estinien. 11. Thunderous - Aeryn finally Echoes That Moment from Alberic. 12. Devil’s Advocate - Plans to deal with Avengret are debated. 13. Soul - Aeryn has concerns about Alberic versus Avengret. 14. Bow - The team attempts their plan against Avengret.

#Final Fantasy XIV #Lyn Writing #Lyn Edits #Dragoon #Dragons #Estinien Varlineau #Alberic Bale #X'rhun Tia #Heustienne de Vimaroix #Thancred Waters #Corran Striker #Emelia Striker #Aeryn Striker #Avengret #FFXIVWrite2020 #FFXIVWrite2021 #Bearing Sins of the Past

13 notes · View notes

snowbird-down · 2 years

Text

Prompt 3: Temper

Several warnings:

1) Major Endwalker spoilers

2) CW for body horror

3) For the sake of drama I’ve taken some creative liberties with a couple of NPCs. We can chalk it all up ICly to hallucinations if that’s more comfortable to you. Either way Laelia doesn’t remember most of this post-un-tempering so she’s not coming away from this with any meta knowledge.

E-enjoy?

All three of them couldn’t help but forget their lunch for the moment as the tentacle-heads passed. Well, no – it was disrespectful to call them that. Laelia mentally chided herself for slipping back into her old habits, offering a dutiful salute instead. The tenta—the Chosen didn’t give any indication of having noticed much of anything as they shambled on their way. They were above such things.

“Man. Why don’t they have to eat?” Gallus asked, pouting down at his Bowl of Brown. They weren’t sure what was in it, but such paltry things as flavor and texture didn’t really matter right now. “Imagine how much more work we could get done if we didn’t have to stop all the damn time.”

“Or sleep?” Marco smirked, twirling his spoon between his fingers. “The emperor sustains his Chosen on aether alone. If we work hard enough that could be us too, y’know.”

“We’ve been busting our balls.” Laelia frowned, stabbing at a dubious chunk of gristle with her spoon. “What did they do to get noticed by His Radiance?”

“Patience, dear sister.” Marco grinned. “He brought us back together, right? We’ll get what we deserve in time.”

Laelia had to smile to that. It was true. Marco had been missing since...since...she couldn’t quite remember. But she did recall her family had been devastated. It was only by Emperor Varis’ guidance that she was able to find her little brother again. Strangely enough she couldn’t remember where the rest of her family was now, but she was certain they’d understand. It’d be natural to assume that a loyal soldier like Laelia would have gone to help with the war effort. After all, they were at war with everyone.

She remembered Grandfather too, much as she was loathe to. The way he always looked at me so dismissively, with that infuriating frown. The disappointment that shone in his yellow eyes.

“You think it’s what?” he asked flatly.

“Reductive,” I replied. “I’ve seen every trope in this play a hundred times by now.”

Grandfather just rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t know drama if it backhanded you with an iron gauntlet and called your mother fat. Which she was, by the by.”

“You’d insult her?” I growled.

“Her, and that saddlebag of a face that you were so kind to inherit. Alas that only one of my sons had any taste.” And then he went back to watching.

I spent the rest of the night glaring at him rather than watching his trite little show. But sometimes, when he was distracted with the play, the other half of him would temporarily regain some measure of control over his own body. Solus would glance back at me with wide unfocused eyes, a confused and terrified old man who had no idea where he was, and I’d feel bile surge up in my throat.

Laelia grimaced as she swallowed the bile. No wait, that was stew. Those weren’t her memories. Hells, she’d never been to a stage play in her life, other than that one time Verina’s class did Romulus and Julia in high school. Verina had been cast as Julia. That’d been awkward to watch.

The whistle blew. They all hurriedly gulped down the rest of their slop, hugged each other, and went back to work. Marco and Gallus returned to work on the warmachina, and Laelia went back to guarding the trains. It was boring work if she was being honest, but she knew it was of tremendous import. More and more resources were being funneled into the palace, and with news of invaders beginning to creep over the borders it was now more important than ever that she help keep the supply lines safe. She had vague memories of those peoples, too – the poncy long-ears, the insufferable midgets, the hyur and the Angry Hyur. She remembered their cruel magics and their crude weapons.

She remembered the moment the sword punched into her belly. Popped through armor and flesh as though I were paper-thin. A shock of hot electric pain. That cold gleam in his eyes. I’d always known this day was coming but I still felt betrayed. I seethed immeasurably at the boy, but the worst part was that, even as my legs gave beneath me, I still felt love for him. Abominable monster that he was, he was still my son.

“What the fuck,” Laelia breathed, clutching her head. She had to focus, dammit. She’d never get promoted like this.

And so she worked, and she worked. She watched the trains and moved cargo and disciplined the more unruly captives being shipped off to His Radiance as tribute. And as the sun sank lower in the sky and the light began to fade through the windows outside, Laelia felt her pulse climb and her stomach churn. She hated night time. Night time meant she had to sleep. And every night it was always the same.

She tried to stave it off, tried to scrounge up coffee rations – but they were all since long gone, or else stolen by the traitors outside. So instead she tried to redouble her efforts, to keep working so that she didn’t have time to get tired, but that only seemed to accelerate it. At last her brother and Gallus returned and dragged her back to the barracks, remaining in good spirits the whole while.

“I know, I know.” Marco laughed. “We wanted to keep working too, but we’re of no use to His Radiance if we fall asleep on the job. Just a few quick hours and we can get back to it.”

That wasn’t the problem, though.

Laelia tried to stay awake in her cot, tried to lie in uncomfortable positions, tried to shed her blanket so she’d stay too cold. She tried everything. But she was dog-tired, and eventually sleep came for her anyway. And with it came that face. That manic, grinning, awful face. The hatchet in his hand. The way he sang such a carefree tune as he vigorously hacked into my right arm. It wasn’t anything so skilled as a medical cut; no, he butchered me like a slaughtered cow. When he’d gotten far enough through the bone, he tore the rest of the limb off and tossed it aside, where it landed with a wet slap on the granite floor.

He came for the other. Then my legs. Each one took an eternity to sever, forcing me to listen to the wet crunch of my own musculature. Afterwards he pulled out a knife and carved open my torso, dove in as if to seek buried treasure, and sawed free my heart and my liver. Those, too, he scooped out and added to the pile. And then – and only then, because he wished to keep me there to watch – when he was certain that I’d suffered his every cut and insult – he hacked off my head.

“Not to worry, Your Radiance,” he cooed into my ear. “You won’t have need of this. We’re about to grow you a couple of new ones.”

#ffxivwrite2020 #laelia jen belisar #garlemald #solus zos galvus #varis zos galvus #zenos yae galvus #fandaniel #anima

19 notes · View notes

high-and-away · 2 years

Text

FFXIVWrite 2022, Free Prompt #1: A Ferryman, But No Obol

She thinks about him sometimes; the heavy whuff of his horse's breathing, the sharp green tang of broken sproutlings underhoof, the poised, gentlemanly way he so nobly accompanied her to the edge of his domain. No, not accompanied. Escorted, as though he'd taken her by the arm and guided her to the vine-choked gates of a manor long strangled and straitjacketed by nature. As though he'd clung to courtesy as his estate crumbled, no matter the manor to which he might have been born. And always, always, a scalpel in her mind, slicing ever deeper to seek what made her Victoria. Always that insatiable slicing, gouging, digging, prying, over over and over. Are you worthy, child? Will you be? Will we ride joyous together until my blade pierces your breastplate and yours pierces my throat? Will we die together, exhilarated, unless one of us walks away? Or will you don my mantle and title after the end? She stumbles from pain and exhaustion, fumbling clumsily for something to hold on - anything - and the cool tree bark against her burning, infection-fiery cheek is almost enough to make her cry. Solus, Hell, fucking anything, the relief the relief please-- A black-gauntleted arm circles her gently round the waist-- no no no no no please she's so tired, she can't fight anymore-- --and calm and sure-handed lifts her into the saddle, no matter her increasingly feeble struggles. Victoria could kill him. Victoria could kill him right now, reach down and pull her boot knife from its sheath and slam it frenzied through the gaps in his gorget again and again and again and again. Over and over until he lies in a pool of foul blood and she stands above him an eikon-killer like Solus in his prime, radiant and blazing in ferocious glory. But she is so tired. So weak, with the infection setting her blood afire.She doesn't have it in her, brutality like that. She never has. She doubts she ever will. Her killings are distant, remote, and if pressed up close, as cool and efficient as she's been drilled to be. So she rides instead, swaying gently in the saddle as the eikon keeps her upright with one cold and courteous arm. As though he's attentive, if things like that are capable of being mindful of others they have yet to make pawns. When her fingertips drift towards his sword, a black and twisted thing that calls, that cajoles her to take it, he gently takes her hand and rests it on the dark and weather-worn cantle of his saddle. Days and days, and no wildlife. No grunting deer. No rooting boars. No birdsong. Her companion is lord of the forest, and his subjects give him a wide berth. The horse - Sleipnir, how did she know that, he's never said a word - never stumbles once. And yet, at each stony patch or potruding snarl of roots, she clings determined to the saddle. The eikon's arm tightens around her middle or shoulders, whether possessive or protective; her injuries are not hard to miss, yet he seems to take care to mind them. With each lurch or wobble, a pulse of (idle? rueful? fond?) amusement echoes through her brain she knows is not her own. There are moments where Victoria isn't certain whether she's a trophy or a prisoner. The eikon, in his silence, provides no answer one way or the other. He never does, not even when they reach the sun-streaked borders of the Shroud and he so nobly, so gently, so gallantly helps her down from his monstrous steed. After days of pain and trauma and raw, near-blinding fear, Victoria struggles to find the words.

"Thank you," she rasps. The horseman graciously inclines his head. Do you see what I see in you, little huntsman? Little Odin-that-might-be? Victoria has no answers, and gives him none in turn. The Lord of the Hunt bows in his saddle, regal and elegant, and turns his steed to ride majestic into his demesne. Two wars and half a lifetime later, Victoria Castellus still wonders if she dreamed of riding with Odin Himself.

#ffxivwrite #FFXIVWrite2020 #holy unreliable narration Batman #look I needed at least one unreliable narrator piece and by god I was gonna get one #did this actually happen?#we just don't know #neither does victoria #and Odin isn't telling #no don't worry she's not on track to primalhood #she doesn't want to be and I don't want her to be #my writing #I started writing this while drunk and gave up on decorum halfway through #no this is not supposed to be skeevy he's just politely giving her a ride out of courtesy #if primals can be courteous #fuck it I'll do what I want within reason #you knew damn well Odin was gonna show up at some point #it's tradition #At Your Side All Along #though if it did happen it probably didn't happen like this

13 notes · View notes

shieldkeeper · 2 years

Text

FFXIVWrite2022: Prompt 10

Writing Prompt: CHANNEL Words: 614

“It spreads further…”

Vibrant blue ink spread across flesh in spiraling motions like that of an untamable wave of the seas. Once was once but a few beads of dotted aqua blue had grown out of control over the years. Fluctuating in size and pattern depending on emotion and the amount of magicks he expended within bursts.

‘Strange’ is how he originally thought of it when he first realized they were not natural by any degree. The village folk of Veidanfisk all wore similar tattoos of bright blue colors, sketched onto their very skin by their own merit. Whereas his… naturally grew over time. Marked from the moment of birth and taught that his markings were of special descent.

The only way of keeping his tattoos in check… was to keep a lid on his emotions. Don’t act out too much. Keep himself calm and collected. No matter the case, always remain in control of oneself.

His journey of late however… has been a ride from one thing to the next. Of ups and downs. Battle after battle. Place after place. And when at last they reached this amalgamation of a city, unlike anything one could ever imagine…!

…

A chance to himself. A lone pond of water that called to him, away from any nearby persons who might disturb him. Not even his friends knew of his location save for him going on a walk. Thoughts bore heavy on his mind as he sat beside the edge of the water, looking deep into its murky depths… yet a circle of clear mirrored his looks and appearances. A shade of himself with only difference being in hue of eyes.

“Tell me…” The Seer whispered beneath his breath as he traced a finger on water’s edge. As though he were carving a rune out of its form—and it remaining in placed as he continued as though engraved. “Have I taken upon my rightful path? Have I not done my part to call my role complete?”

His question hung in the air to deafening silence. Never had his image answered back before after all. It only sat there mimicking his every action and movement, lips moving in tandem with his but not of its own accord. Only staring back at him as it too appeared to wish for an answer to the riddles of his life.

A sigh on his breath as he finished the symbol he’d drawn out. A magickal sigil that he as chieftain’s son only new save for the chief himself. It felt more as though a talisman that warded away unkept thoughts. A symbol that might answer his prayers and offer him some calm from the choppy waves of his mind.

Yet after a moment’s wait and lamenting… Garen began to feel a tugging sensation from within. As though something were slowly beginning to coil around him as if in comforting embrace… or was it something else?

He looked upon his mirrored face once more and thought it to be smiling. Its lips moving though he could not hear it speak in truth. The words appearing in his thoughts as though he were speaking it himself.

“The elements stir… Fables no more…”

Garen backed away from the edge and broke his train of focus, heaving deep shaky breaths as he felt the coils unwound. Any longer did he stare and he wagered he’d be drawn into hearing more. Falling into madness as he thought himself to be. It was but simple water’s reflection as it always was. Yet pulling back his sleeves showed his blue ink to be spiraling maddeningly from briefest encounter.

What was this… sense of foreboding?

#ffxivwrite2020 #ffxivwrite #ffxiv #writing #viking au

12 notes · View notes

nalukahvi · 1 year

Photo

And, because for a couple years there I was locked out of this account, here is the last 4 years of participation prizes I’ve done!

#ffxivwriteprizes #ffxivwrite2019 #ffxivwrite2020 #ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite2022 #ffxivwrite #Artpost #FFXIV Art #FFXIV #NalukahviArt #Nalukahvi Art

10 notes · View notes

dumb-hat · 2 years

Text

Prompt #12: “Miss the Boat” - FFXIV Write 2022

"It's a simple job, really."

The words haunted Evander, even though they hadn't been wrong. The job was simple, after all: He just needed to grab the lockbox from underneath the market stall and replace it with the dummy lockbox, then make his way to the bridge that crossed the narrow canal and drop the lockbox into the gondola as it passed underneath. He didn't need to concern himself with the contents of the box, there wouldn't be any security to worry about, and the stall would be left miraculously unlocked and unattended, thanks to someone his employer had on the inside.

All of that had been true.

What was also true was that the gondola would not only be early, but that it would also be tiny.

Evander groaned as he watched the model gondola grow ever tinier as it passed. The next bridge would be in a much busier area, meaning a much higher likelihood of a strange man dropping a box from a high bridge onto a tiny boat would be noticed by somebody.

He palmed the lockbox and considered its heft. He'd probably be able to hit a relatively small moving target. It probably wouldn't hurt the model gondola. He'd probably be done with this job in a matter of minutes. He'd probably have a interesting story to tell over drinks later.

So... Yeah, okay. Why not? He rolled the lockbox between his hands, took a deep breath, reeled back and pitched it over the bridge, toward its target.

... And over shot by a yalm. The box bobbled in the water, taunting him. "Simple job," Evander muttered under his breath as he dove from the bridge into the canal below.

← Previous Prompt |Master Post| Next Prompt →

#FFXIVwrite2022 #ffxivwrite2020

11 notes · View notes

chrysalispen · 2 years

Text

Prompt #19 - Turning a Blind Eye

AO3 LINK HERE

Fill under cut.

------------------------------------------

"Sit, Sazha."

Only two words, but they carried the unmistakable note of command.

L'haiya dus Eyahri had had the run of the Laskaris household since he'd come to live here, with a remarkable carte blanche that precious few non-Garleans in her position could boast. Even if it was in large part because Julian rem Laskaris no longer cared to see to such matters himself, let alone the rearing and education of his only daughter.

Although Sazha had outstripped her in height with last year's growth spurt, Aurelia's governess intimidated him every ilm as much now as she had when he was naught but a nameless market district starveling, insinuating himself into the household of one of the Empire's great families through chance alone.

In truth, he wasn't certain the lord of the house was willing to challenge her often. She wielded her authority the way a castrum prafectus might. Small wonder Lord Julian let her do as she wished.

Sazha sat. His tail twitched with apprehension, smacking the arm of the chair.

For her part L'haiya peered down at him with her arms folded across her chest, expression oddly neutral.

"I suppose you're wondering why you were summoned," she said without preamble.

He was fairly certain he knew already, but nodded regardless. She stood before him in silence for a few beats before moving towards the master's grand chair, sitting empty by the fireplace. The flagstones were immaculate, free of ash, the pit itself barren - Ala Mhigo's winters were chilly, and also the only time the villa was cold enough to need a fire.

"Lord Julian has asked to speak with me about a matter that concerns the pair of you."

Sazha felt his stomach clench and took a deep and measured breath. With any luck she sensed none of his internal turmoil.

"Concerning what?"

"He and I are both fairly certain that Aurelia will pass her extrance exams and be admitted to the Imperial Magitek Academy's medical programme." L'haiya sat, folding her hands in her lap, legs folded and ankles crossed, posture a perfect mirror of any Garlean lady he had ever seen. "As I'm certain you've noticed, Lord Julian is not... the most amiable man, but he is well aware of his daughter's fondness for you."

"Elle, I'm not sure what this has to do wit-"

"If it is determined that she is to enroll, he wishes for the two of us to accompany her to the capital for her orientation next autumn."

That... was not what he had expected to hear. "Wait. You mean..."

"In addition, Lord Julian has offered to make an arrangement with the viceroy which would waive your conscription draft requirement for a full year, in order that you might do so."

"Oh," he said, somewhat faintly. Sazha's hands had curled into fists with his apprehension and as he exhaled softly he felt them start to uncurl from his sweat-soaked palms. "Well, that's... that's good, isn't it? I'm sure Aurelia will be delighted when you give her the news."

"I'm not done," she lifted one hand, palm facing outward. "You will thank Lord Julian for his generosity and decline that offer."

Stunned, Sazha’s smile froze and faltered before it disappeared entirely.

"What- why would you want me to decline? If he believes Aurelia has need of me, then as her closest friend I should-"

"No."

"What do you mean, 'no'? You don't intend to send her halfway across the world alone, do you? Elle, she'll be miserable by herself."

"Aurelia will not be alone. She will simply be apart from you," L'haiya said flatly, settling her hand back into her lap, "and that separation will be a better outcome for all concerned. Yourself included."

His heart began to pound. He'd never tried to gainsay his guardian before. Aurelia, possessed of a far more tenacious disposition, had butted heads with L'haiya many a time over the years and such altercations nearly always ended poorly for her. She'd been severely lectured, dressed down by her father, had her outdoor privileges taken away on several occasions, had endured all manner of censure - and it didn't matter. She always defied them the moment she saw fit, usually over some injustice whether real or perceived.

Sazha himself had always been the model child: the grateful ward, the boy who never gave his guardian trouble.

Well, he told himself firmly, there's a first time for everything. "I'm not leaving her."

"Yes. You are."

"Elle-"

She was tapping something in her hand against the armrest. Blue. Small. The card he'd received in the post just yesterday afternoon.

"Early tomorrow morning, I expect you to take your leave of the house permanently. You will take a transport across the loch, present yourself at Porta Praetoria, and obey what orders you are given as per the demands of the draft."

"You can't be serious. You're asking me to just... to simply up and leave her? Without any warning?"

"No, I'm telling you. This is not a request."

"Why are you doing this? I've done nothing to deserve this sudden change and yet you're so eager to rid yourself of me."

L'haiya let out a long, sharp sigh.

"I have let the two of you alone because until now I deemed your presence a benefit. You have been what she desperately needed, a boon companion, one who keeps her feet firmly anchored to the earth where they belong. Were it not for us, I've little doubt that girl would be as blindly adherent to these foolish and dangerous notions of self-superiority as the rest of her kind."

His face flushed; he felt for a moment a flash of protective anger.

"She is stronger than you think," he retorted. "Even if she weren't, none of this explains why you wish to send me skulking away like- like some thief, in the dead of night. As if I've done something wrong."

For long moments, his guardian said nothing. But her expression was as severe as he'd ever seen it, and her gaze-- there might as well have been steel in her eyes, so unflinching was that stare.

Sazha's protest died on his lips.

"I know what you're thinking, young man," she said, the words clipped and cold. "You think that because no one has said aught to either of you about it, surely no one must be the wiser. Rest assured, I do know. There are rumors. Alarming rumors, which I have managed to dispel only at great risk."

"Why didn't you-"

"Why didn't I say anything? I should have, and you're fortunate that I intervened. If her father knew I would be the least of your worries. He would easily be able to claim you were the instigator of your little romance, and no court would question him, not in this land nor any other in the Empire. They'd stretch your neck before a sennight had passed." "Nothing has even happened between us!" "You know as well as I do that wouldn't matter to them either."

Sazha swallowed. He couldn't take his eyes off the card in her hand.

"Friendship - as much as any of us can truly befriend a Garlean - is all well and fine. But you cannot allow yourself to be more than that." Something almost like sympathy lingered in the twist of her lips. "Not here."

With effort he managed to wrench his eyes away from hers to stare at the pattern on the Thavnairian rug, shoulders hunched, chin dropped in silent defeat. His ears flattened unhappily against his head, tail slapping the seat cushion, and he could still feel her stare boring into him. He wanted to refuse. He wanted to defy her the way Aurelia always did when she ran up against L'haiya's rules.

But Sazha understood the stakes. As much as he loved her, he knew Aurelia wouldn't, not really. Real consequences didn’t yet exist in her world. But in his, in L’haiya’s, they did, and they went far beyond the trivial reprisal of being caught with a stolen treat or sneaking out for a night beyond the walls of the villa.

"She won't understand," he said, very softly.

"No," L'haiya agreed. "She'll see it as a betrayal of the worst sort."

He swallowed again. His throat felt so tight it was difficult to breathe. The sound of a creak across the room, footsteps, made his right ear flicker against his hair. "She'll hate me," Sazha whispered, and then there were arms around him and his guardian's scent drifting between them like a cloud. Sweet pea. He recognized it from the garden.

"She'll hate me, you mean," and he could hear a certain melancholy resignation alongside the wry note in her voice. "But I can weather her anger just fine."

"But-"

"No buts, boy. Don't you worry yourself about Aurelia. You're right about one thing- she's strong."

"Obstinate, you mean," Sazha snorted. His sight seemed to blur at the edges- briefly mortified, he swiped with one thumb at the moisture that seeped from the corner of his eye. "Stubborn as a bloody aurochs."

"Aye, just like her lord father. Her mother, come to that. She'll need that tenacity of hers soon enough, but she'll manage well enough on her own whether she believes it or not.”

He sighed. “I know.”

“I'll make sure she can write to you from that school- but you keep your head down and do what they tell you, do you understand? Stay out of trouble. I- we can't lose you too."

Overhead he heard a trembling sigh, then what felt suspiciously like a kiss placed against the crown of his head. He was unsure what she meant by that but knew full well that she wept, a sight even Aurelia had never seen before.

He also knew she would want him to spare her blushes. Just as he did.

So Sazha nodded. And only when the wick of the table lamp began to gutter did he take his leave, the little blue draft card securely tucked into his vest pocket.

#ffxivwrite2020 #prompt 19: turning a blind eye #sazha tia #l'haiya dus eyahri

4 notes · View notes

katalinhunter · 2 years

Text

Row

Yet another memory: Katalin

Everything was laid out nice and orderly in preparation for the ceremony: chairs for the attendees, tables lined with food, staff standing in preparation, even the banners that marched up and down along each wall.

Katalin had no memory of what it had been for, wasn't even sure that she had known at the time. It was just another job in Ul'dah. Her client was some merchant who had money but not much sense and had pissed off a couple of people needlessly. Which led to her being here for this five-minute ceremony followed by social dealings and mingling - and dancing.

Which, thankfully he was a good dancer. It was obviously something that he took great pride in, leading her across the floor and carefully adjusting for her missteps. "It's a common misconception, you know," making idle conversation that seemed to blend into the music. "Most people don't think that Tia's are deprived when it's really just the opposite."

"Uh huh," she replied disinterestedly. Fortunately the Seeker's height helped with keeping a watchful eye out. As with much of the earlier conversation, politics and trade deals, this was just another irrelevant bit. Background noise.

"Of course you're from the Shroud, right? You don't have a strong accent but I can hear traces of it. I don't know how my kin out there can stand living in that... society." Smoothly they moved in and amongst the others with no signs of trouble.

Her reply, a simple "Hmmm..." seemed enough to keep him talking.

"Much like any others, I think the tribes there could come around. I might look in that direction, once I have everything established here." The music slowed to a stop and they came to a rest. "They just need to quit their foolishness and have someone with a proper grip guiding them."

The highlander slid her hand upwards gently, from his hip, along his side, then finally coming to rest with her fingers resting atop his shoulder as she pulled him in slightly, lowering her head. With a smile she slowly dug her thumb in beneath. "I'd recommend you releasing that grip on my arse right now."

#ffxiv #ffxiv rp #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2020 #prompt 15 row

3 notes · View notes

cerezawrites · 2 years

Text

FFXIV Write 20 - Anon

EW Spoilers

Morning coffee at the Bismarck was, as always, a pleasure for Cereza Hoid as she read the Harbor Eye. The tabloid’s “Where is the Warrior of Light?” column was a bit self-indulgent, but she enjoyed the strange rumors and reported sightings. Sometimes they were even inspiration for a new journey altogether.

However, that morning, as she made it to the political cartoons lampooning policies and policy makers, she found her ritual interrupted by a linkpearl signal crackling to life. “... friend… my friend, canst thou heareth me?”

The strange speech pattern could belong only to one man. “Urianger?” she said, putting a hand to her ear. “What is it?”

“A matter of gravest import, and the signs do speak of requiring thy intervention. There is something most perplexing upon the surface of our moon. I am hoping thou might shed some light upon this puzzle. If thou artnot busy, I wouldst ask that you make your way here, anon.”

Cereza could tell from his voice… this was not a run-of-the-mill social call…

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2020 #*spoiler*

0 notes

the-baschet · 2 years

Text

#23 - Pitch

A light reference to #25 - Wish in ffxivwrite2020

Mattisaux pooled his arms around his head, slouching over his writing desk after a sun he was quick to leave behind. The usual sharp pangs that accompanied each breath were missing, a surprising affair but not entirely unwelcome. Where normally he would tread lightly and take care in not taxing himself, the newfound freedom provoked him to test his limits. Gradually, the smoldering air of his room filled his lungs without the interruption of his aches, savoring the taste of cigar smoke, harsh liquor, and aged leather before releasing it after a moment in an exhausted hum.

The spell of silence that followed after sent his mind wandering down a number of hymns and carols from his youth. No single one song stood out in particular, but it was a pleasant distraction away from the routine hauntings that sunk its writhing tendrils into his mind. Several praised the might and mercy of Halone, several of which he could recite to this day, much to his chagrin. But there were other ones about comradery, valiant souls, family, and other flippant topics.

There was one he made for his mother during their first Starlight without his father, a song made from equal parts of love and embarrassment. Then there was one by the blue mage in his life.

“Angels chained by a beast locked in slumber.

Sin washed away by the swift flow of time.”

The somber tune resonated with him, lulling his eyes half-closed and absentmindedly rattling the melody in his throat. Some of the lyrics escaped him but the refrain was simple enough to catch.

“I may know the answers.

Journeys over snow and sand.

What twist in fate has brought us

to tread upon this land?”

His low timbre rang well with the wistful tones of the theme, almost to the point where he might enjoy himself with actually singing it for once. Though, that was a habit far from his interests, something best left for the bards and happier voices.

#Final Fantasy XIV #Final Fantasy 14 #FFXIV #ff14 #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2022 #Mattisaux Baschet #Ishgardian #Elezen #Writing

11 notes · View notes