#he's just good and it's not his fault he's not haurchefant but he's trying

[lost-in-the-aether]

There is not nearly as much love for Artoirel as there should be, honestly.

#artoirel de fortemps #ffxiv #he's just good and it's not his fault he's not haurchefant but he's trying

[redwayfarers]

nika & romance

thinking abt that alia + romance thing @lavampira did and as it would seem that today is nika romance day (since it's all i can think about) so i'm taking inspo, i hope you don't mind <3

silvairre

minor crush back when he was in gridania. nothing truly exceptional. they're not really in contact anymore, although they bump shoulders sometimes.

minfilia

first love. when nika first joined the scions, he was largely aimless, aside from wanting new materials for his songs; minfilia gave him a sense of purpose, even if the key part - part where he too deeply cares for eorzea and does this out of selflessness - didn't really show up. they became friends, and eventually nika fell in love, though minfilia never really returned his feelings. instead, he was glad to simply serve wherever she sent him, and that was enough. her happiness was enough. unfortunately, by the end, nika started feeling used, yet nurtured his love for her for long enough to swallow his feelings on the matter.

his feelings may have even become more intense simply because he knew, deep down, that he had no chances with her. he never tried anything, never bothered her about it, it just floated unresolved for years before her death. she's still a sore spot, and he isn't really sure whether he will ever entirely finish grieving for her, even if he allows himself some measure of anger she left behind. but hey, what is grief if not love persevering? there is no world in which nika does not love minfilia, in whatever capacity.

lyse

a small crush that would have been if there wasn't artoirel. a love that would've gone very sour, very quickly. best left at a single hookup.

artoirel

another case of nika catching feelings for someone he can't, initially, have. nika's equal in a lot of respects; honest to a fault, not very nice, competent yet reserved. nika doesn't begrudge artoirel for trying to get him killed at first. there's a lot of ease in accepting each other, faults and good qualities, between them. artoirel, thus, began to feel like a certain safety. they bonded greatly over their shared love of music and their shared grief for haurchefant. artoirel doesn't ask anything of nika the same way minfilia did, nor does nika himself look for a superior, even though artoirel outranks him by far. to him, artoirel's rank isn't something that matters all that much, just as nika's status as the warrior of light doesn't matter to artoirel after a while.

instead, what they end up being for each other is a partner and an equal, because brothers doesn't quite cut it. it's the one place in this star where nika doesn't have to be the warrior of light, where he can simply be himself, and vice versa, where artoirel isn't the count de fortemps. they're just two guys of equal yet opposite vibes, and at some point, they allied to try and make sense of their respective lots in life. sense is nowhere in sight, but they're too bound together to undo that alliance now. at least they have each other's company on the road.

#nero plays ffxiv #nika perseis #nika x minfilia #nika x artoirel #wolship #wol x minfilia #wol x artoirel #minfilia warde #artoirel de fortemps #not commenting on lyse and silvairre bc they're simply in passing. reverie. envy. 'do i wanna be him or fuck him.' #but they should be mentioned #would've mentioned estinien but that's for a nika & friendship post #there are no romantic feelings between nika and estinien #and a lot of interesting contrasts between his relationships with thancred and estinien respectively #how he idolizes thancred in his youth and then accepts estinien as he is when he's a little older #and how all three of them are angry jaded and bitter #gahhh i love nika's relationships with people. esp other men. they're fun to write about #bc he gets along with women just fine as a general statement. if said woman is one of the rare few PEOPLE he likes #but men are a whole other ballgame bc well nika does have a lot of toxic masculinity and one of his major themes is masculinity so

[cinnabun-faerie]

You know that scene in PotC where Will and Elizabeth are fighting for their lives and decide to have Barbossa marry them during the fight?

Can we have that with G'raha, Thancred, Aymeric, Haurchefant, Estinien, Urianger, and Y'shtola? (WoL being 'Elizabeth', the other being 'Will')?

I'm a sucker for the scene due to how hysterical but also heartwarming it is XD

A/N: Hello! I actually had no idea what this scene was ^^'' I have not really watched PotC. Perhaps a few scenes if any. But anyways, I looked up the one in your request and it's pretty good. Chaotic.

I'm not sure exactly how you wanted this request written, but I hope you don't mind too much if I pick just one of the characters from your list. It may be a little difficult to do them on all in this (actually, I'm more worried it may get repetitive). So, I picked Thancred as I feel like he would fit this the most.

so yeah, you guys would be surrounded by enemies when suddenly he gets this bright idea

maybe it's because both of you had gotten quite injured already

no time was better

"Y/N! MARRY ME!"

"THANCRED ARE YOU CRAZY!?"

the other Scions would be scattered around you fighting as they listen to both of you yell from one side to the other

"I am rather crazy for you, my dear. But I assure you, I am quite serious on the matter."

no response from you as you take down another few enemies

"Y/N! What's your answer? Will you marry me? Don't leave me to wonder-"

"URIANGER!"

"Urianger!? Wha- I wasn't aware he was even an option. Urianger, what do you have to say for yourself. It isn't like you to go around stealing other people's partner."

that earned him a eye roll from the man in question

"I know not what you speak of Thancred. I am most assuredly not going to 'steal' them as you claim. They are merely just a friend."

"URIANGER MARRY US!"

"I refuse until I receive the apology I am owed. And we are in the mist of a battle, can this not wait?"

Thancred would apologize before launching himself forward towards you and your opponent

"If I must. Dearly beloved we are gathered here at this battleground to bare witness to the union between two Scions-"

this had to be the craziest thing that the scions had ever witnessed, but it was pretty badass

honestly if anyone was going to have a wedding like this, it was going to be you and Thancred

"Your vows! Say them now. Should you get distracted, I will protect thee."

with that, Thancred pulled you out of the line of fire of one of the enemy attacks

"Y/N, do you take me as your husband, to love, hold and to fight alongside-"

he was interrupted by an enemy who had come straight at both of you

you had to both dodge to avoid is multi-attacks

"Bloody hell! I am trying to marry the love of my life here! At least wait until they give me their answer before you try to kill us!"

"Not the time, Thancred. But yes, I do."

"I'm glad. I would be heartbroken if you suddenly chose to run away with one of the other eligible bachelors here."

"FOCUS. Thancred Waters, will you take me as your husband/wife?"

"I do!"

"You may now kiss."

of course, the two of you were a bit preoccupied to kiss as more enemies crowded around you

"Have they kissed?"

"NO WE HAVEN'T!"

"THEN DO SO ALREADY!"

"If we die, Urianger, this is your fault."

You shoved through the hoard of enemies, taking as many down as you could until you got to Thancred

you roughly grabbed at his collar and pulled him in for a quick kiss

he leaned in for another kiss but was stopped Estinien who pushed both of you back

he had managed to stop a enemy blade from slicing into you

"There will surely be a time for that later. For the time being, be on your guard."

#ffxiv #ffxiv headcanons #thancred x reader #thancred waters

[voidsentprinces]

Zenos is a relic of a Final Fantasy XIV that we were okay with being one note. Gaius with his “land of creeping medacity”, Lahabrea with his whole speech about snuffing out our light, Thordan with his melodramatic god complex and challenging us to fisty cuffs because he thinks he is so much stronger than us. After all of those, we began to get villains of depth and complexity, it began with Nidhogg and the Warriors of Darkness. Nidhogg’s vengeance is not black and white, Ishgard killed his sister, broke a treaty, and Nidhogg was right to seek recompense for it. But vengeance consumed Nidhogg and he was blinded by his hatred, a hatred that festered into madness. The narrative, at least post Heavensward, is that the sins of the father should be carried on to their sons. Those who did the crime should be held accountable but force descendents to suffer for their parent’s faults is unfair and uncalled for. Especially since the sons themselves were working to bring to light their fathers’ wrongs. But Nidhogg was ready to kill his own in the path of vengeance and needed to be put down for peace and healing to begin.

Estinien too was hell bent on vengeance but unlike Nidhogg it hadn’t fully consumed him and for his blood lust for killing dragons, he became apart of THE dragon he swore the slay. Literally becoming the thing he hated most and after freeing him from the bondage of vengeance. He grows as a person and seeks not just peace within himself but peace with the dragons willing to seek peace. His narrow view brought from wearing his dragoon helm is broadened by the sacrifices of Ysayle and Haurchefant. He sees how the Warrior of Light deals our own vengeance over Haurchefant’s death and learns from the experience. And becomes better because of it.

The Warriors of Darkness appear as those desperate souls trying to save their world at the cost of ours. Only to discover their own vengeance is ill funded by the very beings responsible and given a chance to use their own bodies to save their world, they take it.

Ilberd’s vengeance has descended into madness as well. Just like Nidhogg, he is consumed by his hatred becoming so insense as to announce that the Ala Mhigan refugees are not even worthy of Ala Mhigo any more. He makes forces a war but it isn’t his avatar of vengeance Shinryu that liberates Ala Mhigo. Its the very people his vengeance had blinded him to. It was the efforts of Ala Mhigan Refugees, the Alliance he despised with the backing of the Monetarists he hated, and the good souls of the world, he himself betrayed and scattered to the wind. But we understood where Ilberd came from and saw how a man with nothing left to lose could bet it all and cause the destruction of innocence.

Then we go into Stormblood and the narrative fumbles with the same eloquence. Both Fordola and Yotsuyu feel like their stories could of been handled better and from what I hear, the Endwalker Job Quests actually finally do Fordola justice but Yotsuyu is still a small blight upon the Post-Stormblood narrative. Zenos himself there is a barrier to entry. He is there because someone was like, “Oh shit, what are you doing ready to liberate Ala Mhigo? Go fuck off to Doma for 2/3 of the expansion and don’t come back until you’re done.” Then he shows up in Yanxia as an “Remember what you are fighting against! The might of Garlemald is unfeeling, unyielding, and monstrous.” before fucking off. We get back to Ala Mhigo and its practically a cake walk. Zenos continues to do nothing but push Fordola to his role of pushing the narrative forward and being a reason to fight beyond just Ala Mhigan liberation and then he’s just done for two 1/2 more patches.

Then we get the whole mystery box writing, what’s in the box? But instead its what is Elidibus and Varis going to do? Who is Solus zos Galvus really and how will he effect the plot? See how Varis reacts being pressured to take the wrong road and how it might effect the narrative!

But then as if sensing its who lackluster set up or perhaps sensing it doesn’t have the answer to it or that just a straight up war with Garlemald might be anticlimatic we are literally whisked away to a new world. With new problems, new issues. A fresh start to understand more about the universe than just what we think we know.

The narrative comes back strong in Shadowbringers. Every region reminds us of our own and is a reflection of what will happen if we do not consider the entire picture. The shadows of a once great empire in the sands reduces to its merchants and its dying. The scars of calamity on its doors steps akin to Ul’dah. The light bleached cliffs and seas of Kholusia. Manned by only the greedy Eulmoreans, the desperate poverty of its people, the weathered sailors who no longer build their ships to explore a world now blanked out, and the stout dwarves who carry on, the twisted boroughs of Rak’tika. Its civilization held together by those with hope, those who seek domination, and those bound by duty to protect knowledge now out of reach of anyone else. A realm of seclusion and suspicion. Il Mheg, a precursor to introducing us to the themes of the Ascians while also showing how the valorous past of a kingdom like Ishgard can be lost and forgot. Reduced to ruin and forgotten about. And of course, Lakeland standing as the bastion against the light and after seeing it all stagnate become active in picking up the pieces.

Emet-Selch isn’t like any other Ascian. He is willing to break bread with us. He echoes that all we’ve ever known of the Ascians is one note and invites us to learn about them after we are done with our duty. He then gives himself more depth and humanization than being beyond the legendary tyrant ruler of Garlemald or just another mustache twirling Saturday Morning Cartoon villain as he interacts with us. Shares with us the tale of Amaurot and the reveals Hydaelyn and Zodiark. After meeting us where in our domain we go to a faux depiction of his own. Walk among his people, understand their fears and the way they interacted. Even as just shades. We come to understand Emet-Selch as a villain of tragedy. A man not unlike the Warriors of Darkness. A good person who has become twisted and forced to do what he thinks is necessary. Who has convinced himself the ends justify the means. He is still apart of an organization leading planet wide genocides, over saw the subjagation of many innocences to push his goals. He is in the wrong completely, but rather than just simply being another face to punch, he is a man. Faults, crimes, and all. And when all is said and done, rather than cursing us with his final breath. He asks us to remember his people, remember that they existed, how they existed. Carry their memories with us, teach it to our own friends and companions. So that Amaurot will not die. He does not ask us to save his Empire, to spare his fellow Ascians, or makes any more excuses for what he has done. He just asks us to remember the innocents in Amaurot. Keep them close to our heart as we did any other and then sets plans into motion to give Elidibus a proper send off as well.

And so the story pushes forward, in a bit of a hastened fashion. I feel like Elidibus too is fumbled. A lot of ground and concepts to cover but not enough room to cover it in 6.1 - 6.3. But still we come to understand the Elidibus is another tragedy. A man who idealized his heroes, who once idealized us as we were before. But who can no longer remember the past, wants ruin of the present, and cares not for the future. He is blinded by his duty and his function. He is a villain to be pitied and so we are him to give him the respect of his station. And in the end, he becomes what he sought. He becomes a beacon of hope by being absorbed into the Crystal Tower. His last words are also not cursing us or spiting us. It is the memory of his friends, his comrades, and remembering the reason he was set on his duties and how much he misses his home and loved ones.

”Stay strong...keep the faith...at journey’s end we will meet again, we will. The rains have ceased...and we have been blessed with another beautiful day...but you are not here to see it.”

And so he disappears, the last of his kind. The one who had forgotten only to remember.

And then unfortunately, we have to return to Eorzea and to such villains as Fandaniel. Who for all intent and purpose is bringing about the Final Days for the lulz and to even the playing field. Zenos is there as a bouncer. Because a fragmented Ascian is not as strong as the Paragons we had been fighting. But Fandaniel is also singularly one note. He is back to the mustache twirling of the old ARR and Heavensward villain variety. Heeeeee’s COOKY! HEEEEE’S DRAMATIC! He’s WACKY! and HEEEEE’S possessing Asahi’s body so any feelings I had for Asahi are now automatically transferred to Fandaniel by LITERAL proxy. So Fandaniel goes from Wacky to ENTIRE INSUFFERABLE! What Fandaniel is Amon? Woop-dee-fucking-doo. Get this clown out of here and send his ass back to the circus he escaped from.

And while I appreciate what Endwalkers narrative was doing in moving past the need for Zenos and Fandaniel to be villains. To just pull a greater scope by giving us the Zodiark fight we thought we were getting at the end at the 1/3 mark. But then after Fandaniel is “defeated” and the Final Days is released. We are left with Zenos. The man who except for killing Varis and forcing Elidibus to us has always forced other characters to push the narrative for him. And rather than, at the climax where the story has clearly signaled its time to move on from him and Fandaniel both, we fight and defeat him in a battle that has been hyped up for 8 patches and now 1 and 1/3 of an expansion! We...let him leave. So he can...be a question mark over the narrative again and...you know...do what he’s known for an...be a flat one note villain of the past. Chewing the scenery when he shows up and wanting to fight us and...like...not else. We could get the same experience by fighting a Solo FATE boss in...any region actually. And so when he finally shows up at the last possible moment. It s not a feeling of applause but annoyance. A left over than they literally didn’t know what to do with but needed him to stick around for marketing purposes and to be coy even longer about our fight with him shows up. Does the Zenos thing but the change being he’ll do anything for us TO fight him rather than not wanting to do anything BUT fight us. Which...I guess? So we beat the Endsinger which...side tangent.

When we were going through Amaurot. Was I the only one who just thought the Final Days was a natural occurence? Just something brought about by Amaurot’s hubris and unwilling to really care about other civilizations outside their city? Whose creation magic had gone so over used that the Final Days was the universe’s way of redressing the balance of nature? The Final Days being a miguffin to close out the Era of the Ancients/Gods and usher in the Era of Mortals/Man? Like after we finish with Emet-Selch. There wasn’t a question that we ourselves needed to face the Final Days. The big question mark hanging over the narrative was dealing with Zodiark and Hydaelyn. The Eldest and most powerful of Primals. A fact that put into question all of Hydaelyn’s actions and our duty as her supposed champion? Even bringing up the fact that we hadn’t gotten a collect call from Hydaelyn since...like...Heavensward? Everything else had been done through Minfilia so not technically Hydaelyn herself. And with Fandaniel on the horizon to usher in a redo the Final Days but as just another Calamity for the lulz to awaken Zodiark as probably the end goal and Zenos there to, again, act as a bouncer to level the playing field. Cause a sundered Ascian isn’t as strong as a Paragon clearly. It felt clear cut what we were going to do. But to learn someone was actually BEHIND the Final Days and we had to stop it felt very, to me at least:

Like again I can see that the narrative needed to move beyond villains like Zenos and Fandaniel but like...the Final Days having a voice and a face to punch still felt out of left field. And it might of properly worked cause like Emet-Selch, we get to learn about Meteion. Spend time with her. They flesh her out as an old friend we didn’t know about and she’s fine. But like, something about Zenos being around kind of still drags the entire thing down. He’s the hardened piece of cereal left over before the writers pour a new bowl. No matter how much you’re enjoying the new bowl of cereal. That stale piece is still stuck to the side and you just want to take your thumb and unjam it and toss it away but the writer won’t let you yet. So we end up with Zenos eventually showing up and after the BIG CLIMATIC FIGHT! We...are railroaded into fighting Zenos for maybe 10 minutes at the very end of a narrative that had moved past him. To triumph music that feels like its trying to have a second big celebration after we just had a big celeberation so it feels forced and worn out and Waaaaaay too little too late. Right? And its not some humanized or depth delving Zenos that we’ve learned about by having flash backs in Garlemald or through books stored in the capital or whatever. Its still Zenos but Zenos with somehow less of what made him Zenos in Stormblood. He’s a lesser Zenos which is like saying, he’s a lesser brand of Miracle Whip. Like...they gave him a new uniform sure and while yes, “A TEST OF YOUR REFLEXES” is amusing. We just had our big climatic battle and now we’re fighting...one note, oh you’re still here, Zenos.

Who was made obsolete in his own expansion by the presence of there being a depth hinted at in Fordola and Yotsuyu. Like ????????????

So to round this off before tumblr eats this fucking post wasting another 45m of my life. Zenos is a relic of Final Fantasy XIV villains like Gaius, Lahabrea, and sadly Igeyohrm. Villains there to be the reason to fight a big bad at the end. A puffed up WWE Heel who suddenly finds himself in the middle of Period Piece War time Drama. Where other villains have shown up with nuance, complexity and cunning. Zenos keeps occasionally kicking down the door and asking us for a wrestling match in the ring that night. And its...bewildering.

I had a point...but I lost it half way through that last paragraph. So fuck me I guess.

[queenmuzz]

Now that many of my mutuals have gotten to a scene in FFXIV...

Please note: HEAVY SPOILERS. If you intend or are playing the game, but haven't completed Heavensward, please don't click.

Aymeric can’t fall asleep due to the pain from his ‘treatment’ in the vault, so he tries to make use of his insomnia by penning a letter of condolences to Count Fortempts. But no matter what he writes, everything sounds so …. shallow. There’s a knock at the door, and to his surprise and alarm its Estinien…. carrying a passed out WoL. Apparently, he found them unconscious in a snow bank outside the Forgotten Knight, and the overwhelming smell of alcohol rules out an injury. Estinien tried to take them to the Fortemps manor, but the WoL INSISTED that they not be taken there. Estinien couldn’t just have them sleep it off in the barracks, so Aymeric's place it is.

Estinien bids him good night and leaves Aymeric at a loss of what to do. Obviously the WoL needs to get warmed up fast, so he wraps them with blankets and places them on a sofa near the fireplace. Then he starts making a nice warm (non alcoholic) drink…. Hot Chocolate. While the milk slowly simmers, he checks up on a beleaguered WoL, who is now sitting up, trying to figure out how they got to the Knight Commander's place. He tells them about Estinien's deed, and says ‘certainly the Fortemps manor would have a bed more comfortable', but the WoL blurts out that they can’t go back, can’t face that family after what they’ve done. And then it dawns on Aymeric that they blame themselves personally for Haurchefant's death. This not a side of the ever cheerful, ever confident WoL, that anyone ever gets to see. Not sure of what to say, he tells them that isn’t their fault, and if anything, HE is to blame, for blindly confronting the arch bishop. ‘Haurchefant wouldn’t want you to feel that way’ the WoL says, and Aymeric responds, ‘the same applies for you.’

The kettle whistles, and Aymeric prepares and brings out the hot chocolate, and gets a reaction that he didn’t expect. The WoL takes on look at the cup and just starts sobbing.

After he manages to calm them down for a bit, (inwardly panicking on how he managed to fuck this up), the WoL explains that back when they were on the run, at their lowest point where they had no where to go, Haurchefant took them in and made hot cocoa for them while cheering them up, and the steaming beverage in their hands just brought back those memories. Aymeric agrees that Haurchefant had a inane ability to raise people’s spirits, and tells a tale when he, Aymeric, and several soldiers were besieged by dragons, Haurchefant put out a rousing speech, and the whole company, including the wounded were able to break out.

Eventually, the WoL drifts off, on his couch, snuggled under a pile of his blankets, but Aymeric still cannot sleep. He still has that letter to write. But at least now, he now knows what to say. Lord Edmont, Your son touched many lives, both great and small, and through his deeds...his legacy shall live on.

#FFXIV #ffxiv heavensward #ffxiv spoilers #heavensward spoilers #haurchefant greystone #aymeric de borel #My writing

[potassium-pilot]

Prompt 14: Commend

“Uh…hey there, Haurchefant. You’re not mad, right?”

The Lord Commander told her how it took six knights to wrestle him back to his post, keep him from rushing to her side in the face of Shiva. He certainly looked as though he fought off a small militia, what with the ragged hair and the small bruises on his cheeks.

His arms were folded. A stern look fell over his face. This was not a happy man.

“What were you thinking, Dia?!” he exclaimed. This took her aback. For as long as she’d known him, he’d been quite polite, always using a gentle tone of voice with her. To hear him scold her so was…different, to say the least.

“Wagering your very being on a dubious theory which might allow you to enter Iceheart’s lair- knowing full well that she could have sufficient forewarning to complete her ritual to summon Shiva, anyway…? And then- And then- engaging the abomination in mortal combat?!”

“…Chief, that’s a morning warm-up for me.”

“By the Fury, Dia!” He was in no mood for her cavalier attitude towards her heroic actions. “‘Tis the stuff of ballads! A battle for the ages!” He slammed a fist on his desk and continued, “Would that I could have been there to fight by your side!”

“Haurchefant, you would have been tempered!”

“Yet, here I was, forced to wait- condemned to wonder at the fate of a dear friend for a veritable eternity! I would not wish such torture on my most hated enemy…”

The tension on his shoulders started to release, the fire in his words began to dim, and whatever appearance of civility he could muster returned. He let out a long sigh as if to release the anger through his breath, and said while attempting to sound calm, “…but you are here now, and that is what truly matters…”

“Chief…do you need a hug?”

He shot a devastating glare at her, making Alphinaud leave the room before the tempers would flare. “I’m serious!” she assured, “I wish I could have told you that I was going, but the moment sort of just…came together perfectly. Time was of the essence.” He shook his head. “I know. But truly, no reinforcements, Dia?! None whatsoever?!”

“Unless you have another fighter who can resist tempering, it’s hard to ask that of someone.”

“Ser Aymeric couldn’t even think of a contingency plan, should you have fallen?!”

Dia felt the crease of the missive from him in her pocket. She took it from the Temple Knight, who attempted to read it aloud for her, after pointing out to him, “I can read, you know”, and read it through silently before entering the amphitheatre.

“That’s the Scions’ job.”

“Well, what is their contingency plan should you have been mortally wounded? Is there a batallion of blessed champions that secretly lies in wait in the Rising Stones?” he questioned sarcastically.

“No, there isn’t.”

“Then how do they ensure your safety? Surely, they understand that if you go, so too does the future of the realm.”

She hesitated, feeling incredibly obstinate in the face of his challenges, but was ultimately forced to concede to that one with an “I don’t know.”

“There’s nothing that they do to make sure that the Savior of Eorzea can continue to save Eorzea?”

“There’s nothing they can do, I just go in and do what needs to be done.”

“But why?” he asked incredulously, “What good does it do for anyone to leave you as the only one capable of defeating these monstrosities?”

“I don’t know, Haurchefant! Okay?! I don’t know! But I am the only one, and there’s nothing that can be done to change that!” She reached the end of her rope with an argument that should have ended before it even began when she opened her mouth. It was his turn to express shock, his eyes widened and his eyebrows raised. His usually calm and collected dear friend, quick with a joke and happy to help, has put in place an impenetrable defense. She revealed a crack, however, when she took a breath and admitted, “A break would be nice.”

The two of them took a deep breath together to release the tension at the same time.

“What do you acquire from doing this, my friend?” he asked calmly, carefully tiptoeing about the topic to ensure they don’t fall back into hostility. She kept her cool and answered with a soft smile, “Adventure.” She let out a dharp breath from her nose. “I wish I knew why, but…there was always something about exploration that drew me. I love journeying into the unknown, I love seeking new paths…but sometimes, it’s nice to rest and know my surroundings.”

Haurchefant hummed in a tone that indicated both satisfaction and curiosity. “‘Tis interesting to hear your prerogative, Dia. Many take adventurers to be self-serving, glory-seeking ignoramuses.”

“That’s because a solid majority of them are just that.” She shook her head at the notion. “Glory feels rather hollow when you’ve seen just where it lands you. No, I’m an adventurer because there’s much to see and do…but I think I’ve seen enough for a while.”

He flashed his winning smile and assured, “None deserve respite more than you, my friend. Take heart, and enjoy what you have accomplished for now. I apologize if my venting of my anxieties have dampened your victory.”

She returned the smile and replied, “No, it didn’t. Call me weird, but…there’s something refreshing about someone close reminding me that what I do could kill me. Everyone always seems so sure that I’ll emerge victorious.”

‘Was there every any doubt that the Warrior of Light would succeed’, Alphinaud’s words rang in her head.

“There is never a guarantee in battle. I feel young Alphinaud should learn such a concept if he is to lead men.” Haurchefant shook his head and sat back in his chair. “You are indeed blessed as Hydaelyn’s champion, but you remain mortal, with limits. You have escaped the impossible on more than one occasion, but nothing that you’ve survived was incapable of killing you. I would much rather know that if you were in danger, that someone, preferably myself, would be there to do everything they could to protect you.”

She stared to the floor. “You very much are a knight, Chief. You couldn’t have protected me from Shiva.”

“Perhaps not, but it would be remiss of me not to try.” Haurchefant snapped back into reality when he reminded himself of orders he received. “Ah, Ser Aymeric wished to have words with you and Master Alphinaud in private. He awaits us in the Intercessory.”

“Ughhhh, do I have to?”

Haurchefant replied to her groans with laughter in his voice, “Is there something wrong with the notion?”

“I already had to accompany him back to Camp Dragonhead. If he needed to exchange words with me, he could have done so from Whitebrim, but we barely said a word to each other. We didn’t even look at each other. I don’t get it- I saved his people from a primal. Did I do something wrong here?”

Haurchefant knew exactly why the Lord Commander would do such a thing. A conference with the Warrior of Light was one thing, but a personal interaction? No work or other business to buffer? And with such a stoic hero (or so she pretends to be), seemingly larger than life? The man was probably a puddle.

“Perhaps he just wanted Master Alphinaud there to say these words to as well. Pray, go on ahead without me, Dia. Another matter requires my attention, but I shall join you anon.”

“Fine, but hurry up. I don’t want another awkward silence, especially if Alphinaud tries to harangue him into joining the Alliance again.”

“Halone be good, you must stop him if he tries again.”

“The kid’s tongue has a mind of it’s own, I swear. If he tries, maybe I’ll cast Repose on him.” Haurchefant laughed at what he hoped was a joke as she left the office to see for just what he requested privacy.

*************

Would Minfilia yell at me if I kicked Alphinaud in the head, Dia thought. For whatever genius he proclaims to be blessed with, subtlety consistently managed to escape his grasp. That in mind, she was more than a little relieved to understand fully the intention of their dealmakers. All they hid was a desire to keep the Garleans away, a desire she shared personally.

With that done, she followed the young Brave’s Commander out of the intercessory.

“Er, Dia, if I may have a moment…”

Or she would have, had Ser Aymeric not stopped her from doing so.

“I have no idea if there will ever be enough thanks for what you’ve done, but… I would like once more to say it: Thank you, Dia. Your risk was unimaginable, and that you were so willing to do it for a country you barely know… it’s astounding. While we owe the Scions much, to whom we’ll begin to repay by delivering supplies to Revenant’s Toll, I would also like to find some way to repay you personally. Mere words feel insufficient.”

Dia felt unsure what to make of the Lord Commander, but she appreciated the thought.

“Don’t worry about it”, she replied with a soft smile. She nodded to him and turned around to finally return to Revenant’s Toll.

Once she was out of the building, she retrieved the missive from her pocket, and re-read it once more to herself.

Inside the intercessory, Aymeric turned to Haurchefant with a question in mind that the lord of Camp Dragonhead could read with ease with the expression he wore on his face.

“Haurchefant, you’ve grown rather close with her, have you not?”

“As one should expect with one’s dear friends, yes. Why do you ask?” Haurchefant attempted to bury any hint of amusement.

“Have I insulted her? Has she said anything to you?”

He failed to hide it and released a closed-mouth chuckle.

“Ser Aymeric, she asked the same of you!”

His eyes widened in mortification, and his jaw dropped slightly. That he should be perceived as being insulted by someone like her, as if he had the nerve, felt unsettling.

“I…”

“She mentioned the return trip to Camp Dragonhead was… not the most pleasant of exchanges, to put it nicely. Now, Dia tends to do more than say, so it can be hard to interact; I cannot fault you for struggling to communicate. She does take some time to warm up, but with all due respect, Ser Aymeric, you must offer the hearth. I did so, and now, I couldn’t ask for a better friend and ally. You might find the same results, and clear up any misunderstandings, an important step if you truly wish to express personal gratitude.”

Aymeric kept his gaze to the floor. “Thank you for your candor, Haurchefant.” Soon after, he turned and exited the Intercessory alongside Lucia.

Haurchefant stayed behind to think. Perhaps it would be best to refrain from further intercession; ‘tis so amusing to watch Aymeric like this, he mused.

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #ffxiv #haurchefant greystone #female wol #aymeric de borel #fanfiction #two of my three favorite ishgardians #anyways in this canon they’re besties

[shera-dnd]

Love for a Dark Heart

Adding now to the list of things I can’t fucking believe I got paid to write: My FFXIV character falling in love with herself.

Honestly I could have kept writing this for another 5k words more, but I set the rules so I’m gonna stick to them

As usual you can follow this link right here to read it on AO3 if you’d prefer that. If you’d like to have a fic written by me you should feel free to donate to my ko-fi (rules for donations over here) and let’s get going with the fic

You are a rational woman.

You try to deal with the facts and not let emotion rule over your decisions. That doesn’t mean you’re cold hearted or any such thing, but when it comes to wielding aether you really cannot let your emotions get in the way, lest your magic escape your control entirely.

It’s why you joined the Arcanists Guild so long ago, their approach to spell craft was exactly what you needed, and after many long months of training you had even mastered the lost art of summoning. It had been your calculated and well crafted spells that had felled the Primals and even bested Gaius and his Ultima Weapon.

But what did that amount to?

You’ve been betrayed, the Sultana is dead, your friends are lost, and the nations you fought to defend probably have a price on your head by now. All your possessions now fit neatly into the tiny backpack you brought along in your journey to Ishgard, and the only people left to console you are Alphinaud and Tataru, but in all honesty you’re usually the one consoling them now.

But Ishgard still welcomes you and still needs you. House Fortemps has embraced you and the least you can do is fight to protect them as well. Just keep fighting and saving people until everything gets solved, it definitely worked just fine the first time you tried that, so why not try it again?

You don’t want to be bitter, you don’t want to be angry, you genuinely feel sorry whenever you snap at Alphinaud or Haurchefant, you know they’re having a hard time too. Still it is so hard not to just let that frustration fester in your heart.

One day you’re walking the streets of Ishgard, trying to work the anger out of your system, when you hear a man muttering something. It was a story about a man who fought like a beast, who wielded the Darkness like other men would wield a blade. Something about this story sparks your curiosity and next thing you know you’re pressing the man for details.

It seemed your mystery man had died in battle with the holy knights of Ishgard and his corpse had been dumped in the Brume. It was unfortunate, but mayhaps you could still find his corpse, maybe even his soulstone.

You weren’t thinking of wielding the darkness, were you? No, it was simply academic curiosity. You just couldn’t leave such a thing unstudied, right? Of course. Now to make your way to the Brume.

No pulse, no breathing, skin as cold as the snow around you, that man was a corpse. At least he was a corpse with a soulstone, maybe you could study that. You just have to take it and-

A voice calls for you in the dark.

You wake up confused, but still intact. Better yet, the man you thought dead was now alive and well in front of you. His name is Fray and he was a Dark Knight. Apparently so were you now.

Perhaps embracing the dark should have been difficult, it should have been the kind of decision you pondered over and considered all the pros and cons. It wasn’t supposed to be something you did on a whim, but in reality it was the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

You were stronger now. How else could you wield a weapon so massive? How else could those knights strike you with their blades and barely make you flinch? How else could you take all that anger, and frustration that you had repressed for so long, and give it such a beautiful shape as it cut down those hallowed bastards? 

It felt good.

It felt too good.

Perhaps the life of a Dark Knight was exactly what you needed.

In the weeks that passed no one questioned why you disappeared every night or where you went. You had gone through a lot, and they just wanted to give you space to heal. Besides, who would question what the Warrior of Light did with her spare time? It almost made you feel bad for what you were doing.

Almost.

It was hard feeling bad now that you have started studying the Darkness. No, studying would imply a lot more research and controlled tests. What you were doing was more like exercising it, working out a muscle you didn’t know you had until now. If that meant killing your fair share of monsters then so be it.

Especially when working that metaphorical muscle also seemed to improve your physical ones. Even your eye sight seemed to have improved somehow. With time your tunic had been replaced by plate armor, your glasses by a full helmet, your book of spells by the biggest sword you could carry.

There were still hiccups when adapting to this new life as a Dark Knight. No matter how many times you attuned yourself to the Darkness you could only ever hear whispers of that voice in the dark that had once called your name. It worried you, and frustrated Fray to no end.

Frustration seemed to be Fray’s default state. Always furious at the people around you who insist on asking you to fix all their problems, ready to throw threats and insults any time someone so much as  thought of interrupting you. You try to be nice, you try to de-escalate, to help those people anyway, but you know deep down that you agree with her.

Her? Wasn’t Fray a man?

Doesn’t matter, Fray can use whatever pronouns she wants. You just can’t remember her ever telling you she changed those. 

Wait did she just mention fighting Leviathan? Had she been there with you on that ship? Surely you’d remember that.

Why hadn’t she mentioned that before?

Maybe if you still saw the world through your old scholarly lens, maybe if you still distanced yourself, studied the situation, maybe then you would have realized what was happening. You really can’t help but feel a little stupid when the truth finally reveals itself.

When Fray takes off her helmet it is your face that you see, your eyes that stare into yours, your voice that challenges you. She was your Darkness, your repressed rage against those who used you again, and again to suit their needs; your frustrations with this world that would exhaust you to the bone before finding any solution that didn’t involve you, your need for someone to just step up and care for you even once.

If only she hadn’t hurt those people, if only her first answer wasn’t to just draw her sword on those she saw as a threat to you, maybe then you’d let her go.

Your swords clash and ultimately she’s the one to fall. Your Darkness, your heart, your…

...Esteem, lies defeated before you and you don’t know how to feel. She was a monster formed from the deepest abyss, yet when you hear her declare that she will always be there for you, if only you were to call her, you can’t help but feel hope.

It was only after you exposed yourself to just about every guard, and soldier at Dragon Head that you decided that it’s about time you came clean to your friends.

Alphinaud and Haurchefant didn’t understand why you had made the decisions you had, but they couldn’t think of anyone better to wield such a power. Tataru trusted you with her life and just a bit of Darkness wouldn’t get in the way of that. Estinien claimed that he understood, that he too struggled against the evil that granted him his powers. In the end it all felt too easy, too unearned.

Still, there was a nation to save and a war to stop. Your little existential crisis would have to wait. You could almost hear Esteem screaming at you for ever forming that thought. 

Soon it wouldn’t be just almost.

Weeks passed as you traversed Dravania, searching for a way to stop this war. For a moment you had hoped that by exposing the lies of Ishgardian nobility you would finally put an end to this, but of course that just led the holy men of Halone to do what they thought was right, which just happened to be capturing and torturing an innocent man.

You went in to try to save a man, to make those self appointed saints pay. You didn’t go there to lose a friend, yet that’s what you did.

You kept your composure long enough to reach your private chambers in the Fortemps manor, but as soon as the door closed behind you, you collapsed. You could have saved him, you could have prevented this, you could have jumped out of the way, or pushed him away, or just done anything.

But you didn’t, and now he paid the price for it.

What a pathetic excuse for a Warrior of Light you are.

“You’re no such thing!” A familiar voice calls. You don’t know when or how you summoned her back, but there she was.

Esteem lifted you from the ground and laid you in your bed. You noticed now that instead of the black armor she had favored in your fight, now she wore one of your old robes and your old glasses. It was almost funny thinking of a being of pure aether deigning to wear glasses for some reason.

With a gentleness you didn’t know either of you had, she caressed and soothed you as she repeated those same words over and over again, “it wasn’t your fault.”

It felt pathetic to only have a shadow of yourself to care for you, but for now it didn’t matter. All you could do in that moment was cling, cling to the kind words and the soft touch of the only person who cared enough to offer, and try as hard as you can to believe in what she’s saying.

“Rest now, you fool,” she asked, her voice just as gentle as before.

“Please stay,” you pleaded, unsure if she would disappear the moment you closed your eyes.

It was a selfish thing to ask, to force her to stay in the material world simply for your own comfort, but Esteem wanted nothing more than for you to be selfish, so there was never any doubt that she would oblige.

The next morning she was still there, asleep somehow, still holding you in her arms. It shamed you to admit that this was the closest you’ve ever been to another person. No one had held you this close, no one had ever let you fall asleep in their arms - or fallen asleep in yours for what that matters - had she been more than just a piece of your own heart, perhaps you would have found reason for embarrassment.

There was certainly some strangeness to it, of course. Waking up in your own arms and seeing your own face in the morning was as surreal an experience as you could imagine right now. Though it did allow you some interesting introspection. You shifted in bed a little, trying to get a good look at your own face, wondering if you had ever looked this peaceful before.

“If you even consider rising from this bed I promise you the Archbishop will be the least of your worries,” she grumbles without even opening her eyes.

“I did not know you could sleep,” you comment.

“Neither did I,” she replies. She pushes herself into a sitting position, having completely given up on the idea of returning to your shared slumber, “if I must be honest, I don’t even know how I was granted physical form once more.”

“Yet your first response to sudden corporealization was not to question it, but to attend to the sobbing mess on the floor,” you are by no means attempting to mock her, it simply sounds odd to you.

“What am I to say?” She jested, “I’m quite fond of that sobbing mess.”

At that you averted your gaze. It felt embarrassing somehow, to have someone declare their fondness so bluntly, even if that someone wasn’t an actual person.

“Have we truly grown so alienated from affection?” She sighs, her voice a mix of worry and disappointment.

You motion to protest, but a knock on the door interrupts you both. With a gesture, she requests you stay in bed while she handles this. That may be the worst idea you have ever heard, but you’re far too tired to protest.

“I’m glad to see you’re awake and well,” Alphinaud greets her cheerfully, “If you’re disposed, I’d like to ask-”

“I’m not,” She interrupts, “now, you may be on your way.”

The poor boy is too stunned to reply, and does nothing to stop her from slamming the door on his face. A smug smirk forms on her face as she strides back to you.

“Must you be so rude to all my friends?” You say as you glare at her.

“Must you put the needs of every last soul above your own well being?” She shot back, matching your stare.

You’re the one to break the stare first, “I’ll try not to.”

She nods and gives you a satisfied smile as she sits next to you, “now do try to rest. Wouldn’t want me to be rude to poor Alphinaud for naught.”

In the weeks that followed she had been ever by your side. Like your old summons she could effortlessly appear and disappear from thin air, combined with her nature as a being of pure aether it made you suspect you had somehow called upon an egi of Esteem’s former self. This was promptly disproven by the fact that her response to any direct commands was a simple and direct, “sod off!”

By all accounts she should simply be darkness aspected aether, given shape and purpose by your needs and desires, as unreal as Ysayle’s false Shiva. Yet here she was, talking when she wanted to, sleeping when she wanted to, eating when she wanted to--seven hells she even has different tastes than you. There was no other way around it, Esteem had become her own person somehow.

Part of you worried that you had somehow created a Primal of your own heart. That had now been buried under the far more substantial worry that you have been utterly mistreating an actual person with thoughts and feelings, who had done nothing but help you and care for you for weeks. This in turn had been buried under the mess of feelings that struck your heart at the fact that this woman had held you in your sleep for weeks now. Mayhaps you should just focus on hitting things with big swords for now.

On that angle things have been a lot simpler. Your preparations for the journey to Azys Lla were now almost concluded, and as you waited for Master Cid to finish his work you took your time to aid a fellow Dark Knight by the name of Sidurgu.

That man quite proudly embodied the mass of hate and anger you expected from a Dark Knight, a trait that seemed to invoke Esteem’s disdain and earn him quite a share of her unkindly remarks. Neither his emotional state nor her opinion of him were ever aided by the fact that you surpassed him with ease.

You may have stumbled onto this power like a blind fool, but it had somehow suited you with a natural ease that eluded your companion. It was in the pursuit of more power - under the guise of aiding a young girl that Sidurgu had taken under his wing - that you found yourself once more doing menial tasks for moogles. At least today you’d have the catharsis of beating them within an ilm of their lives for it.

What you did not expect was for them to burst into song and dance afterwards.

“‘Tis love! ‘Tis love!” They profess with their tiny voices, “all-powerful, shining love!”

Suffice to say that the both of you were completely befuddled by the performance - Esteem loudly laughing in the corner she carved for herself in your mind - had Rielle, your shared charge, not appeared in that moment you were sure you’d both sit like that for an hour.

It was only as you made your way back to Ishgard that Sidurgu took you aside to talk about what had unfolded. He mocked the idea that love could be the true power of Darkness, but you could see that sharp edge on his voice begin to dull ever so slightly.

A year ago you would have been just as dismissive of such an idea, to properly channel aether you require coldly calculated theorems, not something as nebulous as love. 

Yet here you are. You’ve wielded anger and frustration like weapons for months now, why can’t you wear love like an armor?

You loved your friends and that gave you strength.

You loved Eorzea and that gave you strength.

You loved yourself and that…

...Well, did you really love yourself that much? Not as much as you should if Esteem were to be believed, but she does. She loves you, and that gives you strength.

It’s with this context that you begin to notice the little things she does, even when she’s not around. The gentle touches, the kind words, the worry in her eyes after a rough fight. It had been her love that helped you strike down with your blade, it had been her love that held you up when an enemy would fell you. It made you oh so keenly aware of her heartbeat - surprisingly human and comforting - next to yours as she held you both together.

Had you loved her too this whole time?

Perhaps you should have questioned this before the worries of facing Garleans, Ascians, and the Archbishop, loomed this close in the horizon. Perhaps you should have questioned that Esteem’s love didn’t come just from some magically ordained purpose. Perhaps you should have questioned what it meant about you that you so willingly accepted and reciprocated that love.

By the time you arrive at the Fortemps manor that night, you have already made your decision and you find her in your room, reading a spicy romance novel from Emmanellain’s secret stash. Steeling yourself in a way you hadn’t done since facing Ultima, you approach her and bring your lips to hers. It was a fleeting touch, but it had the whole of you buzzing with nervous energy.

With the most detestably smug smile, she brings you close again so she may kiss you back and, as if she hadn’t just shaken your very soul with that act, returned to her reading.

You stare at her, utterly confounded by her lack of any real reaction. It takes her a moment to realize you are still staring and the words that escaped her mouth would infuriate and haunt you for the rest of your existence.

“Was I wrong to assume we’d been lovers for at least a month now?”

Perhaps you really should have just stuck to hitting people with big swords.

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #dark knight #ffxiv dark knight #drk #warrior of light #esteem #warrior of light x esteem

[omgkalyppso]

Soft asks: Fae: 29, 23

Sawyer: 31

(ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ Thank you so much for the ask!!! <333

29. What makes your muse smile?

Lots of sadly stereotypical things. Like surprises — like when a cake turns out better than expected, little gifts that required thought or investment, or a letter bearing good news. Or things that are aesthetically pleasant — like a rainbow, or a landscape, or a frilly, layered outfit. Or when people are authentic — like Leonie's passion, Alois' puns, or Zoran's singing. And of course expressions of trust and romance from their partners.

23. How is your muse with children?

Fae loves children. I'm not sure how good they'd be with them initially because they don't have a lot of opportunities to interact with infants and kids before they start having their own in my post-canon stuff I've written, but, like Claude, they'd read and ask questions to be as well equipped as they could be. Generally, they have a quieter disposition and I think they'd be fine interacting with children in short bouts though they might have a hard time with rowdier displays of misbehavior.

31. What makes your muse blush?

I've been trying to start a fic for Sawyer and I've come up short a few times because I'm trying to establish what their polyam relationships look like; and whether I want to tack on an additional OC to act as a friend and interpreter for them, and to maybe ship with some of the characters. All this to say that I think people who are forward make Sawyer blush — and that includes both sexually and simply people who are able to articulate their emotions well on the fly. I think they get flustered when trying to sign more serious feelings, in the same way that some people who speak two languages have a hard time saying 'I love you' in their mother tongue. Sawyer would much rather write things down, taking hours or days to artfully select words and presentation. So to hear Haurchefant's direct advances and confessions, and Aymeric's heartfelt expressions of interest, would certainly result in rosy cheeks and their hands over their mouth or eyes depending on the setting.

372 words below the cut as a wip but also more rambling and a screenshot of Sybille.

I remade Sybille a bit and have been toying with using fleur/fleurs/fleurself pronouns for fleur, but I'm not sure I'm settled on the idea. I just really like oc's and frienships and wanted to try writing neopronouns.

Sawyer would be a Monk and Weaver (at least) and might be entangled with Haurchefant, Aymeric, Estinien, Y'shtola and Emet (who I still haven't met but I've been reading and observing and (eyes emoji)).

Sybille would be a Scholar and Culinarian (at least) and might be entangled with Thancred, Urianger and maybe Ysayle.

And part of what's holding me back is fear of being too self indulgent, and that the hero's journey might already be explored to hell and back. I want to have fun, but I worry about being annoying. asjdfgasj

EVEN SO. Have some words that might evolve into Something but also might need to be scrapped for me to try this a fourth time. Just after the Vault for Haurche; dialogue with Aymeric and Sawyer:

~

Sawyer was weeping when Aymeric found them. It was a soft, wheezing sound, scarcely audible over the hush of his own breath, or the cries yet swirling in his mind. Edmont was beside himself as surely as he was beside Haurchefant, as the chirurgeons struggled desperately to stay the corruption of his deep magical and physical injuries.

Aymeric knew not the man from any other elezen who had fallen to the recent calamities*, and if he had not cried for them, then it felt inappropriate to weep for Greystone. Yet the Warrior of Light was another matter entirely. That they were heartbroken so honestly over the elezen that had taken them into his home spoke further of the values that they'd outlined and proven time and again.

He sat by their side and wrapped large hand around their far shoulder. There was much to do, but broken as he was, and grief stricken as they were, there seemed little chance of catching up to his father so soon.

Sawyer curled towards and away from the embrace in a swaying motion, and Aymeric guiltily wished they had stayed, head to his chest, a safe weight in his arms.

Sawyer was signing to him, and Aymeric faltered. He was learning, but these were not signs he knew. Estinien would know. Haurchefant would know.

"I'm sorry, I..."

With a shake of their head, Sawyer simply whimpered, the noise so quiet it was nearly drowned out by the gasp they sucked in to worry at their bottom lip.

"No," Aymeric insisted. He would not allow them to go unheard. He signed as he asked, "Again please?"

Slower this time, Sawyer did not tell Aymeric their problem. They instead signed out the spelling of a single word.

"L, T, Y... Guilty?" Aymeric said, surprised. "My friend, if anyone is at fault for the state of our companion tis I. Haurchefant is a man of Ishgard born, who marched knowingly towards our battle. He did as all good knights do, protecting that which is worth protecting. While my father..." He faltered, realizing how much his father had hurt, beyond the man just down the hall. "Suffice it to say, Greystone would not blame you, and neither do I."

*Is this even true? I have no recollection.

#long post #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #faedolyn #ffxiv #oc tag: sawyer #oc tag: sybille

[ofdragonsdeep]

20: Petrichor

The wound only heals once you've pulled out the knife.

(HW spoilers, implied m!WoLxThancred and m!WoLxHaurchefant)

Soft snow tumbled down from the grey clouds above, a thin layer of fragile white settling on the shoulders of Ar’telan’s armour as he sat on the wall at Falcon’s Nest and stared out into the Highlands beyond. The stiff breeze brought a numbing cold, not that it made much impact on his statue-still vigil, his face stoic and his mind churning with regrets.

The peace conference had gone poorly, if one was being kind. Instead of the usual assault by heretics that Ishgard was used to, this time it was the victims of war rising up in anger. He could not even blame them for their anger, knowing intimately the wellspring from which it drew, but this?

He should not have accepted the drink. He should have known better. But it stung more than the cold that they thought he did not understand the way they suffered.

“I wondered if I might find you out here. Still hurts, does it?”

Thancred, solid and steady as always. He hopped up on to the wall beside him with customary grace, sitting easily upon the parapet and following Ar’telan’s gaze, as though there were anything of interest to be found at the end of it.

“I don’t need your pity,” Ar’telan said, and Thancred sighed, shaking his head.

“No, you don’t,” he agreed. “Maybe that was indelicate of me. Apologies.” Ar’telan made a muted noise of acknowledgement, looking away until he felt the touch of fingers brush the snow from his shoulders. A fleeting part of him yearned for what was gone - Haurchefant and the knights teaching him the proper way to dry snow-stained gear, coming in from training covered in sleet and mud, Thancred’s touch on the edge of his robe - but it quickly warped and distorted. A hole in a shield, a wound in his heart, Lahabrea muting his voice with a grip on his wrists. He stiffened, and Thancred withdrew.

“...Sorry,” Ar’telan managed, and Thancred made a wearied noise.

“I should think we’ve moved past that part of things,” he said. “How are you holding up? Beside the obvious, I mean.”

“You should not have hit him,” Ar’telan said, which made Thancred start in surprise. “He made poor choices, but so did all of us, at one point or another. He is small, and scared, and alone. It wasn’t needed.”

“You’re the only person who’s said that,” Thancred said, though he did not seem offended by the statement. “Maybe you’re right. You know them better than I do.” Ar’telan shook his head.

“Barely. Just- Just…” He cut himself off, a sharp inhalation of breath reminding him that he had been sat out here for a long time, and he was cold. ”I don’t want to think about it. How long before the Grand Melee?” Thancred shifted his position, resting one arm on a raised knee, considering the questions both asked and unasked, as he was wont to do.

“It will be some time before the Alliance gets themselves into gear, despite the initial offer,” he replied. “A few weeks at worst, a few days at best. What do you want the time to do?” Ar’telan made a noncommittal noise.

“I don’t know. It all feels like it’s too much,” he said. “It was horrible, what happened at the banquet, but at least it felt easier in Ishgard. Simpler, maybe. And then even that fell to pieces, and I… I feel like I break all that I touch.”

“Lahabrea was not your fault,” Thancred said, and Ar’telan flinched as though he was the one who had been struck, and not Emmanellain.

“No. I know that. But… Sometimes I wonder what the point of it is. The people, they… they see me as a hero. Here and in greater Eorzea. But what good is a bulwark if everything around it falls to pieces?”

Thancred was quiet for a while, an unusual state for him. Ar’telan looked over, saw the frown of thought on his face, the clouds in his aether-bleached eyes. It was easy to remember what had happened after the chaos at the Praetorium, the uncertainty and the anger of Thancred’s recovery - of his own. The wounds were undeniable, in both of them. But the way that the Flow had pulled them apart, even if Thancred himself had only tumbled out a few moons ago, gave them just enough distance for it to feel… distant, somehow. Less keen.

“Well, I can’t imagine that travelling on foot will be particularly fun for you, but I’ve a proposal, if you’ll hear it,” Thancred said eventually. Ar’telan nodded, keeping cautious distance. “It’s only a day’s ride by carriage to Thanalan, if you’ll come with me. Put a few malms between yourself and the pain, for a little while.” Ar’telan wasn’t sure there was anywhere on Eorzea that didn’t hold some poor memory, but it was far away from this pain, this betrayal, and he supposed it would do the job.

“Alright. You’re paying for it, though.”

---

Eastern Thanalan sat on the edge of the vast desert, where the Shroud gave way to high heat and cracked ground. The town around the aetheryte sat in a shaded dip just off the main road, which meant that when it rained - as it often did after the Calamity, and as it was when Ar’telan and Thancred arrived - the rain poured down the entry slopes and pooled on every available surface, leaving the townsfolk to slosh through it in despair.

“Not quite the weather I had in mind,” Thancred remarked as they took shelter in the tavern, Ar’telan shaking the water from his armour with a look of dismay writ on his face.

“I don’t even own an umbrella,” Ar’telan grumbled. Thancred chuckled, gesturing to a table with one hand before going over to the bar. Ar’telan watched with careful eyes, but he only ordered one drink, and did not try to pass it over.

“I think you’ve had quite enough liquid for one day,” Thancred said, though it was still obvious to Ar’telan that he had noticed his concern. He held in his embarrassment with the determination of a man who had killed gods.

“If you have not dragged me out here to watch you drink yourself under the table, why are we here?” he asked, trying not to let the bitterness show through in his voice. A look of annoyance passed over Thancred’s face, but it seemed he was being as coy with his emotions as Ar’telan was trying to be.

“Well, the idea was better before the weather turned, I’ll admit,” he said. “I thought it would be… nice, I suppose. Well, you’ve been collecting all of those seeds, haven’t you?” Ar’telan stiffened at the question, staring down at the table and feeling the fingers of his hands slowly curl against the wood. “There’s a clearing near the chasm here. Maybe you know it. Giant goobbue corpse, nothing too unusual - but it’s covered in odd flowers. They say it came down from the mountains before it died.” Ar’telan swallowed back the well of feelings that threatened to overwhelm him.

“Do you know why I…” he tried, his hand movements jerky and uncertain. Thancred took a long drink from his flagon, waiting in vain for Ar’telan to have the chance to finish, before sighing to himself.

“I’ve my suspicious, yes,” he answered. “If only because I’ve never seen anything else tether you so tightly. It’s for your elezen, right?” It was strange to hear it said without judgement, when they had all but ruined what remained of their friendship over his relationship with Haurchefant. When it had become clear that they would not, could not work again in the wounds that Lahabrea had left behind, the ascian’s spite tearing holes in them even after his forcible discorporation. He was dead now, truly dead, as Ar’telan understood it, but his shadow lingered yet.

“Yes,” he said, pulling his hands in close to his chest as he said it, the closest to a quiet word he could manage it.

“I said some things I regret back then, before all of this Ishgardian nonsense kicked off,” Thancred said, his tone light, but the admission was a serious one. “About you. About him. About a lot of things, if we’re being honest.” He glanced at the window, noting the rain hammering down on it, and shrugged. “I suppose we have time to be honest. I’m sorry.”

“You were not the only one who did things they regret,” Ar’telan replied, hands muted, head still bowed. “I don’t know if… if we could have made it work. If there was a solution for us after what the ascians did. But I did not help matters.” Thancred laughed at that, leaning back in his chair with a creak of old, sun-baked wood.

“Best not to spend too long dwelling on it, I think,” he said. “The ifs and the whys and the maybes - none of them matter in the now. Too many moons between them.” He tilted the flagon towards Ar’telan, who shook his head in refusal. “What matters is where we go. How we move forward. But on that, I would give the floor to you.”

“To me?” Ar’telan repeated, surprised. “Thancred, I… I don’t know. Finding a direction for myself is hard enough, never mind for two.” Thancred’s mouth creased up into a smile.

“It’s not a no,” he decided, draining the flagon. Ar’telan found the embarrassment on his face, the twist of his stomach, was not entirely fear or shame. The distance of moons indeed.

“It is not a yes, either,” he said, a stern look on his face. Thancred sighed.

“Yes, yes,” he said, a hand waving through the air as if to dismiss the concern. The look on his face was kind, though, as he brought his arms to the table to rest his head upon his hands. “I jest. Whatever life decides to throw at us, I will respect your distance. And I won’t ruin a friendship for a snuffed candle this time.” Ar’telan sighed.

“As long as you promise not to die, it is a start,” he decided.

“Well, on that front I can only promise my best.”

--

The sparse grass of the eastern reaches of Thanalan sparkled with collected rain, the ground still soft underfoot even though the clouds had cleared to make way for the stars of night. Ar’telan was knelt by the old goobbue’s grave, carefully collecting what few seeds the rain-soaked plants would offer him, Thancred leaning back against the swell of the ground and watching him work. It was a far cry from their first visit to eastern Thanalan, camped out by the little oasis in borrowed rags and a makeshift tent. It would not end the same, either, though Ar’telan noted the appreciative eyes on the taller man as he got to his feet. Not now. Not soon. But, perhaps, eventually. A bridge built between them by their suffering, instead of tearing out the planks in a misguided attempt to heal. The moon twinkled in the sky above them, a quiet witness to their sadness, and it felt a little like the storm had stopped.

If the clouds would abate, only time would tell.

#yells loudly I love this word #ffxivwrite2021 #m!WoLxThancred #Extremely complicated interpersonal relationships #eats it for dinner #ff14 #Warrior of Light (solo story)

[enavance]

hi i’m here to once again start a discussion / meta about a song that i relate to cherry.  on this episode,  we’re pulling apart falling in reverse’s popular monster.  some of the lyrics are hit or miss because you know obviously this is based on ronnie’s own experiences,  but some of the lyrics are really suited to cherry and i’ll bold the relevant lines as i go or omit things as needed.

also holy shit this is like over 1600 words,  not including the lyrics of course,  and  . . .  congratulations if u read this jkbdfbkvd

i wake up every morning with my head up in a daze i'm not sure if i should say this,  fuck,  i'll say it anyway everybody tries to tell me that i'm goin' through a phase i don't know if it's a phase,  i just wanna feel okay, yeah i battle with depression,  but the question still remains is this post-traumatic stressin' or am i suppressin' rage? and my doctor tries to tell me that i'm going through a phase yeah, it's not a fuckin' phase, i just wanna feel okay

okay,  yeah,  i struggle with this bullshit every day and it's probably 'cause my demons simultaneously rage it obliterates me,  disintegrates me,  annihilates me

cherry has always been hot  -  tempered since she was younger,  but now as she’s grown and grown into her role as the warrior of light and coupled with all of the things she has endured from the beginning of her journey to where she is now.  she lived a relatively peaceful life until imperial garlean forces invaded her village and uprooted her life and destroyed everything she once knew and forced her to make anew.  cherry struggles with severe depression and ptsd,  and much of that contributes to her trauma response and why she’s so quick to lash out in a form of a defense mechanism.

'cause i'm about to break down i'm searchin' for a way out i'm a liar,  i'm a cheater,  i'm a non-believer i'm a popular,  popular monster i break down falling into love now with falling apart i'm a popular,  popular monster

with everything cherry goes through,  it’s a wonder she hasn’t snapped completely yet,  but she has come so,  so,  so close so many times.  she is self  -  destructive in her coping methods,  whether intentionally or not.  sometimes she realizes and notices her harmful coping methods,  sometimes she doesn’t,  but her mindset is that if she’s not hurting anyone else,  it’s fine.

however,  what she doesn’t realize is that her distance and cold shouldering and keeping people at arms length is hurtful because people are just trying to be there for her,  but she won’t allow them to due to her debilitating fear of allowing anyone to come near her,  physically or emotionally,  and risk them forming an attachment to her and vice versa.

she doesn’t want someone to feel hurt or pain in losing her and having to mourn her.  cherry is a serial escapist in that she will disappear for months at a time and wander off looking for the most dangerous jobs,  not only because she needs the money and thrives off of the adrenaline and that she has an inherently reckless nature,  but it’s that deep  -  rooted self  -  destructiveness.

i think i'm going nowhere like a rat trapped in a maze every wall that i knock down is just a wall that i'll replace i'm in a race against myself,  i try to keep a steady pace how the fuck will i escape if i never close my case? oh my god,  i keep on stressin',  every second that i waste is another second sooner to a blessing i won't take

cherry doesn’t see herself as a hero.  to a degree,  she understands that it’s not her choice whether or not she is seen as a hero.  other people will call her one regardless based on her accomplishments and achievements and decorated contributions to the preservation of eorzea and the shard as a whole.  as vain as she is,  and as much as she boasts of her strength as a warrior,  which she takes quite a bit of pride in,  she’s surprisingly somewhat humble when it comes to being seen as a hero that people look to for light in the darkness and idolize.  she just sees nothing special in it because of how many people still die,  how many things are still lost and destroyed.  her own pessimism stops her from feeling positively towards any association with being a hero.  she doesn’t want to be celebrated or praised,  but she won’t be mad if someone compliments her skills and says she’s strong.

cherry is an extremely guarded person and this is something i discuss at length with her keeping extremely tall and thick walls up to protect herself and the people around her due to her life experiences and the trauma she has been through from before ARR to where she is now post  -  SHB.  she’s afraid of letting anyone in.  she’s afraid of caring about people,  despite the fact that she does because deep down she is caring and kind and soft and she just can’t help herself.  she tries to convince herself that she’s not as close to some people as she thinks,  but she is and it would kill her to lose anyone else.  and deep down,  cherry knows that it’s much the same for her friends as well,  that it’s too late,  that they do care about her and someone will be there to mourn and grieve her and she hates that.  this is why she flinches at softness,  any soft gesture or touch or kindness,  even more so when it comes to romantic avenues.  she will run and run and run until she’s sure you’ve given up on pursuing her.  much of this is also tied into the fact that caring about someone is a weakness to a fault because an enemy can sniff that out and use that against her.  they could take someone that she cares about and use them as leverage or kill them or hurt them to get to her and she is so deeply afraid of that most of all.

cherry refuses help constantly.  she shoulders everything and is the first to volunteer to do anything dangerous.  she makes her own recklessly stupid and dangerous plans and rushes in headfirst without much thought.  she is stubborn and will insist on doing everything herself,  even the most menial tasks.  she doesn’t want to look weak,  not that she is or that anyone even thinks that of her,  but she doesn’t want it to appear to anyone that she has any weaknesses because she doesn’t want them to be turned against her.  she refuses help that would otherwise be blessings to make her life easier.

okay,  motherfucker,  now you got my attention i need to change a couple things 'cause somethin' is missing and what if i were to lie?  tell you everything is fine every single fucking day i get closer to the grave i am terrified,  i fell asleep at the wheel again crashed my car just to feel again it obliterates me,  disintegrates me,  annihilates me

cherry is as honest as they come.  perhaps too honest,  sometimes.  however,  when it comes to her own wellbeing,  she will lie to fool others into thinking that she’s fine so that they don’t worry about her.  she doesn’t want to be worried or fussed over,  and most of all,  she doesn’t want to add to anyone else’s stress or make them waste their time with her.  cherry doesn’t take very good care of herself,  physically or emotionally or mentally.  she barrels into danger without thought,  is impulsive,  extremely reckless,  and she doesn’t talk about her feelings to anyone or discuss the traumatic events that happened to her with anyone.  i think the only people she may have opened up to are haurchefant,  maybe thancred on occasion,  ardbert because she’s fine talking to him because her logic is  “  who is he going to tell  ?  no one else can see him,  ”  maybe aymeric but never wholly in detail,  and maybe estinien.  cherry is terrified of opening up to people.  she doesn’t care if people see her as being awful or anything,  but she’s afraid of being seen as vulnerable and having all of those parts of her open and raw.

she’s not actively suicidal or anything or ever thinking about dying.  in fact,  she’s deathly afraid of dying because of the people who care about her and because the fate of the world rests on her shoulders.  she doesn’t want anyone to ever feel the pain she did losing her loved ones.  she doesn’t want them to mourn her.  she doesn’t want to risk the dying of this star just because there’s so much at stake and so many people and the world depending on her success and her being alive.

still,  despite that,  despite knowing that and that being an enormous fear of hers,  that doesn’t stop her from being reckless.  she is extremely self  -  destructive and impulsive and doesn’t think too much,  if at all,  before committing to something,  even if it’s an extremely bad idea.  she does do harmful and self  -  destructive things just to feel things,  hence her being somewhat of an adrenaline addict and chasing danger and diving headfirst into fights or battles and facing off with dangerous people,  even if outnumbered.  she revels in danger and the feeling of adrenaline rushes and actively being battered and bruised in a fight.  she probably would crash a car,  honestly,  just to feel something that is beyond the despondence and depression that she’s come to know post  -  shb.

yeah,  here we go again,  motherfucker,  oh we're sick and tired of wondering praying to a god that you don't believe you're searching for the truth in the lost and found so the question i ask is,  yeah,  where the fuck is your god now? 

and by the end of shb,  knowing the things that she knows of hydaelyn and zodiark,  she’s extremely jaded and even more pessimistic than she was to begin with.  in the beginning,  she didn’t know what she was coming into,  when joining the fray with the scions and learning of her own abilities with the echo and hydaelyn’s will and her involvement.  as time passes and hydaelyn’s absence becomes more noticeable,  she begins to feel abandoned,  and she wonders if hydaelyn is simply content to allow the shard to die and with it,  its people. 

even upon learning of the mother crystal’s weakness in strength,  learning the truth of everything,  the forming of the worlds and hydaelyn and zodiark being primals,  she begins to heavily distrust hydaelyn and wonders if everything had been a lie.  what else had hydaelyn hidden from her  ?  what else was a lie  ?  cherry has never been religious,  not really,  and she wonders if the gods are really out there.  hydaelyn certainly isn’t the god they all thought she was     —     she is a primal.  they have placed their faith and worship in a primal who disappeared and left them in darkness and silence.

cherry is left in a pretty fragile state come the end of shb.  she has lost so much more,  and she feels as though she managed to accomplish nothing despite everything that she has had a hand in doing.  there is always something else,  always something more,  and she feels as though it’s never going to end and she is exhausted.  she will never tire of helping people,  not truly,  but she feels such an emptiness within her and i really think that losing anyone else important to her,  specifically people like thancred,  the twins,  estinien,  aymeric,  she is really going to spiral harder than ever before and i really don’t know how cherry would come out of it in one piece.

#hc. #long post - #uh ask to tag ? #self harm - #kind of ???? #suicide mention - #just in case #shb spoilers - #u get 500 cookies if u manage to read through this kdjfbvd #i didnt mean for this to be this long but like idk! #this song really speaks to me about cherry #this is actually quite an important hc djkbfvfd #i'll post her playlist someday if i ever finish it #not that it'll ever be finish #it'll always be a continuous wip but u know

[sparrowwritings]

Final Fantasy 14 Writing Challenge Day One: Exchange

Masterpost -- Day Two

The day had started out rather well. The usual overcast weather that covered Ishgard had prompted Lara and Roger to suggest a day inside Fortemps manor with warm drinks and stories. While there was plenty that he could have been doing elsewise, the two had coerced Alphinaud into joining them. He’d told himself it would be a brief interlude, but as the clock chimed the passing of morning into the noon he’d found himself enjoying this rare moment of leisure.

He’d finished regaling the other teens with a story about an incident occurring on his and Alisaie’s nameday when Roger had blinked and looked to Lara. “You know I never thought to ask...when is your nameday?” 

She’d looked confused and told him. There had then been a stillness as Roger’s already large green eyes widened further. 

“That’s my nameday too!” Before Alphinaud could interject that many people shared namedays, Roger further exclaimed, “And it passed just before we met! Why didn’t you tell me??”

“I didn’t even think about it…” Lara’s own dark blue eyes were also round with realization. “The echo shared a lot about us to each other, but it didn’t show everything...” She’d trailed off with an odd expression. Roger mirrored it.

Then, suddenly, the two had left their mugs on the drawing room table and stood. They moved quickly enough that anyone else could have thought that they had rehearsed it. 

“I’ve got to go do something.” “I need to take care of something.”

Lara and Roger had said over each other as the two left as if being chased by dragons. Leaving Alphinaud behind and very confused.

Now here he was, braving the cold of Ishgard’s city to find out just what in the world was happening with the Warriors of Light. Someone had to, so it might as well be him. 

It didn’t take long for Alphinaud to find someone who would be willing to talk to someone still considered an outsider (not even going into the results of the heretic trial). After all, Lord Haurchefant Greystone was considered something of an outcast himself. “Ah, young Alphinaud! Good to see you!” He called out with far enough enthusiasm to draw the attention of passersby. They turned away just as quickly, which was expected of the folk of the Pillars.

“Good to see you as well, Haurchefant,” Alphinaud gave a nod, though it was still odd to address the commander so informally. The widened smile on the man’s face indicated that he approved.

“Are you also on a quest to find a gift for Roger, or is it something else? Lara seemed in quite a hurry when she spoke with me.”

Well that answered the question that he didn’t even need to ask. “No, I was actually about to question you about where they’d both gone. We had been chatting when something came to mind in both Roger and Lara and they had rushed off. I suppose if Lara was looking for a gift for Roger, then he must be doing the same for her.”

Haurchefant barked a laugh, which drew temporary attention again. “You know, I think you’re right young Alphinaud! Those two do seem to be of one mind more often than not! Almost like twins if I didn’t know any better.” 

Ignoring the sudden tightness in his chest, Alphinaud gave another nod. “Indeed. But back to the topic at hand; did you have a suggestion for her?”

“Alas I did not.” The commander sighed and folded his arms. “While I’ve been blessed to have assisted and been assisted by Lara and Roger, I’m afraid I’ve spent far less time with them individually. ‘Tis a shame, for their lives are most fascinating. Just hearing your story of how you came to be on my doorstep is almost nothing compared to the one I participated in. And mine had such complex twists and turns as it stood! Think of what they’ll accomplish next!”

Alphinaud suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. 

It didn’t take much for the man to sing the praises of the Warriors of Light. While this trait was invaluable for helping himself, Roger, Lara and Tataru to be invited to the Holy See, after a while such enthusiasm was a tad...tedious. Not that either of the Warriors of Light had ever indicated that they felt the same. In fact, they seemed to flourish under the attention of their practically-adopted older brother. Half a wonder that Lara had gone to him first for ideas.

Thankful for all of the lessons in diplomacy that he had been forced to learn, Alphinaud hid his annoyance behind a polite smile. “I’m certain the Warriors of Light will surprise us yet. Although at the moment I was wondering where Lara had gone off to after she spoke with you.” 

Remembering himself, Haurchefant cleared his throat. It didn’t do much to hide the embarrassed flush on the elezen’s cheeks. “Right. I suggested she try talking to Tataru. I may also not know much about her, but she seems to be the industrious type. Perhaps try there?”

Industrious was one way of describing the lallafel, but the idea was quite sound. If anyone was around that could feasibly suggest gift ideas, it would be Tataru Taru. Alphinaud nodded and made to leave with the standard farewell when the commander offered, “Are you sure you don’t wish for me to join you?”

“I will be quite well, thank you.” Alphinaud answered quickly as he left.

------

“Sorry, you just missed’m! Both of them!” 

“Drat,” Alphinaud said under his breath. 

The Forgotten Knight was as busy as the tavern ever was. People were wandering in from the snow flurries that were steadily falling from the grey skies, looking for warm food and company. One could almost forget that Ishgard was cut off from the rest of Eorzea for how crowded the place felt. Thankfully the corner that he and Tataru were chatting in was relatively clear even as people came and went. 

“Aw, you don’t have to be so worried about them. You know Lara and Roger can handle themselves!” The lalafell woman patted his hand, her small legs dangling from the elezen-sized stool she’d sat in. 

“I’m not worried about them in that sense,” He protested. “Even separate, those two are far more capable than many groups of warriors I’ve encountered.”

Tataru opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it while biting her lip. He didn’t have to guess at what she had decided not to bring up.

“Yes, the Crystal Braves can be included in that. If I hadn’t been so foolish then they couldn’t have been--” A thick slice of bread inserted in his mouth cut off his sentence. Tataru huffed and clapped crumbs off of her hands while he took the piece out and coughed.

“No. We’re not going to do that right now. We’re talking about Roger and Lara, not your guilt. You are worried about your friends so I’m not going to hide what I know. But. You’ve got to stop blaming yourself for something that wasn’t your fault and that you’re not being blamed for.” She levelled a violet glare at him. “So. If you want to know what they’re up to, you’re not going to go on about how you could’ve changed things with the Crystal Braves. Okay?” 

Alphinaud was once again feeling left behind and confused, but in a different way than had happened earlier that day. He’d just wanted to know what the Warriors of Light had been doing. When had his own emotions gotten in the way of finding that out? It hadn’t even been at the forefront of his mind, and yet his guilt had been summoned unconsciously. He turned the hard slice of bread over in his hands as he mulled over the offer. After a beat, he sighed. “Very well, I agree.” 

As if the sun had come out from the clouds (as rare as such an occurrence was in Ishgard), Tataru beamed and spoke as if she hadn’t just told off the boy. He chewed on the part of the bread that had already been in his mouth while she chattered on. “WELL, first Roger came to me asking if I knew what Lara liked to eat so I asked why and he said he was getting her a late nameday gift so of course I offered to help. I sent him on his way to the markets and talked to a few folk in the tavern about places to find rare herbs, so by the time Lara came in asking for gift ideas for Roger I already knew where to send her so that I could help with the cooking while she was away!” Tataru spread her arms wide, her fingers splaying out and shaking in a theatrical fashion. “So! If you want to find gifts for them, they should be fairly occupied until the end of the day.”

He swallowed the last of the bread before he spoke. “Where is Roger practicing his cooking?” He didn’t need to answer her about potential gift giving, after all.

“Oh he’s in the kitchens here. I have someone making sure he doesn’t burn anything important.”

“I see…” His eyes slid to the door towards the room in question.

The apprehension must have been apparent because Tataru retorted, “He can’t burn anything yet, he’s still got to mix ingredients and such.” She openly rolled her eyes when he looked back at her.

“You make it sound as if he might burn down the whole tavern.”

“He won’t! Probably. Hopefully.” She was suddenly nervous, pulling at the ends of her sleeves. “...I’ll...go see how he’s doing. In the meantime, think about what I said. About all of that.” The lalafell then hopped off the stool and made her way into the back.

Alphinaud let the surrounding conversation wash over him as he thought. After some time, he got up from his seat and made his way out. He’d made a decision and he was going to follow through with it.

-----

“You really didn’t have to find these for me!” Roger exclaimed as he examined the variety of plant life that had been neatly tied together with a red ribbon. 

It was just past supper, and the teens plus Haurchefant and Tataru had retired to the drawing room of Fortemps manor. As soon as everyone had sat down, Lara had shoved the green bundle in her best friend’s direction and he’d fumbled but kept his grip on it. Tataru had clapped happily at the sight. Harchefant’s face seemed to be stuck in a proud smile.

Alphinaud was no expert on botany, but he was fairly certain that the shrubs and flowers had been picked more for their looks than their usefulness. Still, Roger looked at them as if they were rare ingredients. Lara relaxed her nervous stance at the sight of his appreciation. 

“I know, but I wanted to find something useful and it was the best thing I could think of at the time. Now that I know when your nameday is, I’m going to blow you away with a proper present next year.” She grinned. 

Now it was Roger’s turn to fidget in his seat. “W-well. I hope you like this too.” From his pocket came a small paper bag, fastened with a green ribbon. The paper had a flower pattern printed on it. Lara gently took the bag and pulled until the ribbon came undone. In the middle were a handful of cookies. The bottoms were slightly burnt and the size of them were inconsistent. “I-I know you like to cook but I wanted to try to make your something and Tataru suggested honey cookies and it was way harder than I thought so you don’t have to eat them but--” Before the poor boy could nervously ramble on, she had already picked up the top cookie and taken a bite.

The whole room held its breath as Lara closed her eyes and chewed. After what felt like ages, she swallowed and smiled at Roger. “These are pretty good! Between Tataru and I, we’ll make a culinarian out of you yet!”

It took only a moment for the two to fall into fits of giggles, and for the adults in the room to join them. Alphinaud took that distraction to stand and head towards Lara and Roger. When they had recovered a little, he presented them both a small plain blue box. “‘Tis equally late for your actual nameday as what you’ve already exchanged. I’ll do my best to have something better by your next one.”

Wearing similar expressions of confusion, the two opened up the boxes. Inside were identical sketches of Lara and Roger, happily chatting with one another. The quality was such that one could be mistaken in thinking that they were directly copied off of another work, though obviously no paintings had been made of the two. Roger and Lara stared at each other, then to the drawings, then to Alphinaud in a cycle. “It’s rough, but if you wish I can touch it up at a later date. I was hard pressed for time, muchlike you both were and--”

All of a sudden he was sandwiched between Lara and Roger in a warm embrace. Alphinaud could feel his face and pointed ears turning scarlet as the oblivious Warriors of Light started complimenting his work. “I didn’t know you could draw!” “What do you mean that it’s rough, it’s amazing!” “I need to find a place to hang it--oh wait maybe I could get it framed??” “This is the best nameday present ever!” He was too flustered to respond, much less pay attention to who was speaking. 

He’d forgotten how physically affectionate Lara and Roger could be. At least this was a more embarrassing than fatal mistake.

Through the press of bodies he spotted a grinning Tataru elbowing a chuckling Haurchefant. Nevermind, he was going to expire right here in front of everyone.

He desperately hoped that Alisaie wouldn’t hear a word about this.

#Final fantasy 14 #ff14 #final fantasy xiv #fanfiction #writing challenge #exchange #dual WoL au #alphinaud #roger briden #lara marner #tataru taru #haurchefant greystone #funny how when i got started i thought it would go one way #and then whoops all alphinaud pov #not that i mind #no shipping here #just FRIENDshipping #plus alphie would def be flustered by physical affection at all #he's so used to alisaie punching him in the arm to show her love #and also being a NERD #anyway #one down thirty to go

[yezielmoore]

Prompt #13: Heart

This one is SAD, and vaguely spoilery for 5.0. 

This is an AU, what if the Exarch’s plan had succeeded? Emet-Selch never showed up for Reasons and so the Exarch took the Light and off he popped to die in the Rift. Leaving us... uh, yeah. 

~o~

The Crystal Exarch hadn't meant for what had happened to occur. Of that much they were certain. He had been a good man, he toiled for more than a hundred years in order to save two worlds, found a way to travel time and space to do it and, miraculously, he succeeded. Everything he had done had been done with his people in mind and with the best of intentions. 

But good intentions mattered little in the face of the devastation his death caused has caused to one they love so much. 

Nobody who has ever spent time with the Warrior of Light and Darkness would say she was fragile. Her petite form hid a strength that defied belief, from handling weapons bigger and heavier than her, to mastering both black and white magic to an extent never seen before, she was a force to be reckoned with even before she started liberating Nations. A one-woman army in every sense of the word.

However, physical strength is only a little part of the equation that made a person. It had taken Alphinaud time to learn that underneath the legend, behind the strength to level mountains and kill gods, lay a real flesh and blood person, with feelings and troubles and a heart that had broken long before he even met her.

But she soldiered on, and even broken things could be put back together if enough care was spared to fix them. He had done his best, once a certain dragoon beat the reality of the Warrior’s humanity into his head and opened his eyes. He had taken it upon himself to help, as much as such things can be helped. But how can you keep together a heart that kept being broken? Loss after loss after loss. Each one a blow fit to topple anyone. And yet X’lial stood up and marched on, a woman on a mission.

Once he had been made aware of the cracks in the façade he simply couldn’t unsee them, and that made him afraid, for she wasn’t just the Warrior of Light to him, not anymore. She was his friend, his older sister in all but blood, and she was not okay.

How many times can you break a heart before even the pieces crumble into dust?

But G’raha Tia. Alphinaud had never crossed paths with the man, but he knew something of the Crystal Tower history by now, considering the bloody thing form the First had spat them at the feet of its twin in the distant past. Their present.

He didn’t know how on earth their bodies had been transported there too, but he was glad for it, because he thinks X’lial may have beaten herself to death against those closed doors if she had arrived alone. As it stands… well. It was nothing magic couldn’t fix, if only other things were as easily fixed as bodies. 

G’raha Tia and X’lial had been friends, once upon a time. This he knew. They had traversed the Crystal Tower together, spent months in each other company, getting to know each other. Alphinaud didn’t know if the friendship had developed into something more, the whole expedition being little more than a blip on his radar back then.

His loss had been a blow to her. The first of many that’d follow. He was the first crack in a heart barely recovered and that bled anew.

It wasn't just G'raha Tia loss though. No. It was The Exarch’s too, for they were as different as night and day, even if they had once occupied the same body. Despite the initial fumble that brought them to the First and the calculated distance he tried to keep at all times, the man had been a mentor, a protector, their guide in a strange new land and, eventually, a friend. 

Alphinaud had never met G'raha Tia, but he had known the Exarch, as much as such a man could be known. And now he was gone. Sacrificed himself to save the world, both worlds as it turned out.

Mostly he did it for her. To save her. And that…

For a man who had spent the equivalent of lifetimes studying the Warrior of Light, he surely managed to miss the most obvious thing, the most important thing. That she cared. She cared far, far too much. And the people she loved kept getting hurt, kidnapped and killed.

How many times can you shatter a heart before there nothing left at all?

They are recovering at the Rising Stones and for the first time in days he has a moment alone with X’lial. Everybody had fussed over her, tried to draw her out, but she…

Alphinaud looks at her, takes her in. The stark white hair where before there had been black and white; the tan skin now liberally streaked with jagged lines of silver, like a kintsugi project a step to the left. He wonders if the skin there would feel warm, like human skin, or cold and clammy, like sin eater. 

He bits back the instinctive question that wanted to burst forth. 

Beyond that she looks unchanged. Same slightly slouched posture, same passive expression, and yet…

"Is everything alright my friend?"

She blinks slowly, as if sleepy despite obviously being ready for a new day. She lifts her mismatched eyes from the greatsword she had been polishing and nods at his question, obviously not in the mood to fish for words that always came unwillingly to her even after all this time. 

"That's good, I'm glad." Alphinaud says, trying to get a read on this strange mood, but all he gets for his trouble is a whole lot of… nothing. Nothing at all.

The problem is not that she’s grieving, it’s exactly the opposite. For all that she’s rosy cheeked and moving around, it’s languid, rote; for all that she listens and responds, there’s no initiative, no feeling to any of it. The Sin Eaters had shown more life in their eternal hunger that the person sitting in front of him right now does.

"We have no pressing business to take care of right now" he continues, lying badly. She doesn’t call him on it, if she even notices.

The Exarch may’ve managed to prevent Black Rose from becoming a Calamity on its own, but the dreadful weapon was still out there and they had to find it and destroy it.

Alphinaud clears his throat, it feels like something got stuck there. "So… take some time to rest and recuperate and if you need anything…" he trails off.

X'lial nods again, eyes distant, before turning her attention back to the dreadfully familiar sword. 

It is a long, dark, foreboding thing, that sword. She had taken it up after Lord Haurchefant’s death and used it exclusively for a very long time. Such a long time that he had been extremely surprised to see the return of the spear and the comfortingly familiar silhouette of the dragoon armor. The spear is nowhere to be seen today, or any day that follows, because he knows where it is now. Shattered at the feet of a tower, like a bloody offering to its slumbering lord. Or maybe a metaphor.

His breath hitches in his throat and suddenly Alphinaud can’t stand to spend a single more second in this room, sitting next to the living dead.

How can you do it? How can one person go through so much heartbreak and still move forward? Where was the fault line, the shatterpoint? 

During the course of X’lial’s many adventures, Alphinaud had often asked himself these questions, admiring of his friend strength, naive in his belief that there was no none. 

Alphinaud turns around and leaves, his eyes burn with tears and he lets them fall. For himself and for her, for all the tears she isn’t crying and may never cry again.

He had never expected to find the answer.

How naïve of him.

#FFxivWrite2020 #FFxivWrite #ffxiv #yeziel writes #my writing #alphinaud leveilleur #x'lial ris #well this one got SAD #AU #spoilery for 5.0

[ginger-nightmist]

16) Lucubration

It’s words, right? Late ARR, platonicish WoL/Haurchefant. This was a hard one, but it’s something, I guess.

When dawn breaks over the horizon, three of those that remain will finally cross that vast stone bridge and be allowed entry through the other side. Kohanya remains more than a little unsure what she will find across it, what Haurchefant family will be like. Normally, she would allow herself in a time of such stress to settle with her projects, embroider something, but their flight from Ul’dah left no time to collect anything personal. Generous to a fault, Haurchefant at least managed to supply them all with a few changes of clothing and sleepwear, but it doesn’t feel hers yet, not in a way where she’s comfortable decorating it.

Hopefully he is right that she will be able to access her own money via the bank system there. For the moment, Kohanya wraps the quilted silk robe that she was given tighter around her, seated at a small desk by the window as she continues to diagram in her codex. The concept is, for now, purely theoretical, and the faint glow of Eos’s form provides nearly as much illumination as the actual candle does, guttering weakly in the lowest heights of the holder, wax spilled and pooled into cooling lumps. The Fae spirit sometimes launches herself into flight, hovering in the air near the scholar’s face, and they exchange silent communication each time.

She has no idea the hour but that it is late which means the gentle tap of knuckles against her door is a surprise. Double-checking that her robe envelops her modestly, the miqo’te pushes her hair back, padding to the door on feet still encased in socks. (Coerthas is damnably cold, and bare feet on the stone floors of Camp Dragonhead, even in the warm room over the infirmary she stays in, are downright chilling.) When the heavy wood swings open she is, somehow, unsurprised to find their host, hands full as he holds two steaming mugs. “How did you know…?”

“I expected nerves and when I saw the light under the door, I knew you were not asleep. So I decided to help.” Haurchefant gently lifts the mugs, not wanting to risk spilling them. “May I come in? I assure you, most everyone else is asleep, so I think you are safely protected from the terrible scandal of my presence in your chambers.” Kohanya lets out a soft snort of laughter and leads the way to the two chairs by the small fireplace, settling down in one and taking one mug from the tall man’s hand.

Haurchefant settles into the other chair and considers her through the rising steam, eyes resting a moment on the open tome. His voice is scolding but warm, safe pushing at this point. “It does not look much like you made a serious attempt at sleep, my friend. It will not come if you never try.” Which, damn it all, means he probably noticed that the bed was still made, undisturbed.

Smiling back, if wanly, Kohanya takes a careful sip of cocoa; as it ever is at the hands of this maker, the beverage is creamily rich, indulgent, a sensual pleasure eternally at odds with the harsh environment. There’s a slight warming spice to it, and after swirling a bit over her tongue, the healer points out, more amused, “There is alcohol in this, isn’t there?”

The elezen shrugs, unrepentant. “Yes. It will help you feel sleepy, and I know you don’t fear for your purported virtue around me.”

Kohanya stretches one leg out of her robe, poking him with sock-clad toe, taking another, deeper sip before she speaks. “Purported virtue? You wound me.”

She is answered with a bold smile as the man drinks in time with her, sprawled in his chair and relaxed and at home in a way that makes her chest ache as she imagines what it might feel like, to be even that secure in one’s place in the world. “I merely use your own words against you, my dear.”

Another soft laugh and she tilts her head back, surprised to find the mug already all but empty. Blinking down at it, she pouts a little, finally setting it onto the table. Haurchefant stands and comes to her side, having to lean down simply to take her hands in his, squeezing gently. “It will be well. Ishgard is not the warmest or most welcoming, but you are a good and kind and generally well behaved,” another squeeze, the words clearly meant as teasing, “So you should not be given so very cold a welcome. Besides, you will at least know some there. You have met the Lord Commander and our Azure Dragoon, and at a minimum the former will be another ally in the city. For what you did to deal with Lady Iceheart alone, you deserve it.”

Her expression must betray her exhausted uncertainty, because a moment later, Haurchefant is plucking her from her chair, manhandling her with all the contented ease of a man who knows he can get away with it. Sometimes, her friend is simultaneously the best and worst. Cradled gently in his arms, a height that seems to her to border on dizzying, Haurche simply caries her bodily to the bed, dropping her atop the covers. “None of that. You must needs sleep, it will be easier to face if you do.” He tugs the blankets down around her, then back up, looking terribly proud of himself.

She thinks about arguing but the urge comes more from contrariness and her own fear of having to face yet another unending challenge. After dragging a deep breath into her lungs, the slight chill in the air bracing, Kohanya finally smiles, wearied but genuine. “Your point is made. Close my book and blow out the candle on your way out?”

Nodding, Haurchefant stops at the desk, closing her tome and extinguishing the candle with a strong huff. The room dims further, down to the last lingering flickers of banked fire, as he pauses in the doorway and promises, “I will come get you early enough for a hearty breakfast. If you don’t wake up at my knock, I’ll just send your gladiator friend in to haul you out.” With a last, cheek grin, he ducks out, the door easing shut behind him, no time for counterarguments given.

Kohanya stares, then carefully shrugs out of her robe to leave her in the nightgown below, finally sliding properly between the covers. Haurchefant was right, the slight heat of a few sips of alcohol in her belly helps make sleep seem closer, and his good natured presence has eased the ever-growing weight that bows her shoulders, at least for long enough to allow for a chance at true sleep.

#FFxivWrite2020 #FFxivWrite #ffxiv writing #Kohanya

[nadana-vhet]

Prompt 05: Matter of Fact

matter of fact: something that belongs to the sphere of fact as distinct from opinion or conjecture (aka it is a complete FACT that Alphinaud deserves good healthy friendships).

Rating: General Audiences  Relationship: WoL & Alphinaud Leveilleur friendship Takes place between ARR patch content and Heavensward.

“Point is, we both have a great many regrets, but we can’t let that stop us.” She teasingly bumped his shoulder with her own, which was rewarded with another weak smile from the elezen. “I won’t let you, Alphinaud Leveilleur – the boy so eager to change Eorzea for the better – to be defeated by this. Got that?” 

N’adana had woken up to in a cold sweat, too afraid to go back to sleep, afraid that she would once again be plagued by nightmares about what happened to the Scions in Ul’dah. So, she climbed out of bed and snuck down to the kitchens. On her way she had noticed the faint candlelight still peeking out under the door to Alphinaud’s room. She stopped in the middle of the guest hall of Camp Dragonhead and listened, her sensitive ears picking up the faint sound of crying.

Oh, Alphinaud.

And so, she hurried to the kitchens and whipped up some hot chocolate, close enough to the specifications of Haurchefant’s recipe that she could manage. She had seen him make it enough times, but she never thought it would be as good as when it was made from the elezen’s hands.

With two mugs in hand, she found her way back to Alphinaud’s room with a newfound determination in her step, pushing her nightmares to the side in favor of giving all her attention to a friend in need. She quietly knocked on the door with her foot, waiting patiently as she heard Alphinaud sniffle and take a moment before standing up to open the door.

“Delivery!” N’adana whispered quietly as he opened the door, “I saw you were still awake, so I made one for you as well.”

“I am not deserving of such friendship.” Alphinaud looked down at the floor, trying his best to avoid looking at her with his puffy, red eyes.

“As a matter of fact, Alphinaud, you are.” N’adana shot back at her friend, not even asking to be invited inside before stepping in and making her way over to plop down on the edge of his bed. She motioned with one of the mugs to the spot next to her, to which Alphinaud quietly complied and gratefully took the steaming chocolate with a faint smile.

“You heard me, I am to assume?”

N’adana nodded, her ears twitching slightly in embarrassment at the admission of her eavesdropping. She took a sip from her mug and offered her arm around his shoulder. “It’s been hard for you, I know. Just... remember that you don’t have to go through it alone, okay?”

Alphinaud sighed, and despite how late it was, he was ready as ever to argue with her. “But I do – ‘twas my fault for being so naïve.”

“We were all there, and we were all played like a fiddle.” N’adana squeezed his shoulder, feeling how tense he was through the sweater he usually slept in.

Alphinaud sighed, attempting to argue his guilt once more, but failing against the bulwark that was the Warrior of Light.

“The only crime you are guilty of is wanting to fix things, and I can’t fault you for that.” She smiled softly at him, “I understand the pressure - being so young and having so much responsibility. We can’t afford to make mistakes, and that’s exhausting.”

He nodded in agreement, finally letting himself relax against the warrior’s shoulder.

“I blame myself for what happened at the Waking Sands. I know it was probably because of their hold on Thancred, but I feel like if I hadn’t been so open or cocky, if I wasn’t so open in my letters. They had so many opportunities find us because of me. If I had just been there…“ she sighed, shaking the memories of burying her comrades, “Point is, we both have a great many regrets, but we can’t let that stop us.” She teasingly bumped his shoulder with her own, which was rewarded with another weak smile from the elezen. “I won’t let you, Alphinaud Leveilleur – the boy so eager to change Eorzea for the better – to be defeated by this. Got that?”

“And you said you were not one for words.” Alphinaud returned, holding up his mug and clinking it against her’s, “I understand, but only on one condition.”

“And what would that condition be, hm?”

“That we both commit to the betterment of Eorzea, and in doing so, watch each other’s backs and make sure our foolish mistakes are kept to a minimum.” Alphinaud raised a brow at her, holding out his free hand for an official, binding handshake.

“You didn’t even have to ask, ‘cause I was gonna do that anyways.” N’adana grinned, sealing the pact after pulling her short arm from out of her oversized sweater.

After their deal was settled, they sat in silence until they both finished up their hot chocolate.

“You know, I would argue that your attempt is better than Lord Haurchefant’s, if I may be so bold.” Alphinaud hummed as he set his empty mug on the bedside table.

N’adana shook her head with an incredulous laugh, “Absolutely not, and I’m going to tell him you said that!”

Alphinaud’s eyes widened, “W-wait, I would not wish to offend Lord-!”

N’adana laughed at how easily her teasing flustered him, the two eventually settling down and keeping each other company until N’adana had accidentally drifted off mid-conversation, her body laid horizontally on his bed, legs still hanging off the side of the mattress.

Alphinaud smiled softly, picking up a spare blanket from the chest at the foot of the bed and throwing it over his closest friend before climbing back onto the mattress, curling up on the other side. He drifted off into dreamless sleep knowing three simple truths:

He was cared for.

He was not alone.

Nor would he continue to feel alone for as long as he had a friend such as the Warrior of Light by his side.

#FFxivWrite2020 #FFxivWrite #ffxiv fanfiction #ff14 fanfic #wol #teen!wol #alphinaud leveilleur #in which alphinaud has a mondo crush on the wol #she is absolutely clueless that alphinaud simps for her #mention of our boy haurchefant and his iconic hot chocolate

[mintdrop]

Mint is ADORABLE! How did she and Estinien get together? :)

aejisfiusdfsdidgj thank you!!!!! ;_;

i actually have this saved from an old ask that i got back when mint was a new character and i was new to wol/npc shipping! i’ll put it under a readmore because it’s super long

mint/estinien kind of started off as a continuation ship I had of my old character Amira (a purple bookwormy lalafell SCH) but it has turned into it’s own thing and it’s like 40% cuter imo.

since I’ve only ever actively played one character, WoL!Mint has all the memories of her adventures from from 2.x to now, ignoring all the fantasias I’ve gone through. She started off just absolutely despising him during the final 2.x dragoon quests and, going into Heavensward, refused to trust him. Refused to acknowledge him unless absolutely forced to, would usually reply in one or two words at best, and occasionally she’d catch herself thinking “but what if.. I “missed” a heal on him during this fight….” but in the end would rather physically remove all of her teeth by hand than sabotage a battle and sacrifice someone’s safety for her petty high-school-level drama. after all, even if she didn’t trust him, the others clearly did.

she only started to trust him, and inevitably start falling for him, after the incident at the Vault. she went mute for a length of time, didn’t give any input to anything and accepted all requests/orders without so much as a nod of her head; she’d just go, do it, show back up with some kind of proof of whatever was required and leave again. everyone tried to get her to go back to how she was before, or at least get her to speak again, but it was like reasoning with a brick wall to move.

at one point, Alphinaud needed Mint to scout the area surrounding the Gubal Library, but he couldn’t find her. she wasn’t in her inn room in Idyllshire, and there were no sightings of her around the Hinterlands; he contacted Aymeric through a linkshell, but none of the guards at any of the gates had so much as seen a glance at her. worried for his friend’s safety more than anything, he enlisted Estinien’s help in finding her, simply because he could cover more ground than most others. estinien already had a fairly good idea of where she was, though, and his hunch wasn’t wrong; she was, once again, at Haurchefant’s grave.

it had been lightly dusting snow at the time, but Mint was covered in what looked like several hours worth from simply sitting there, unmoving. frustrated with it all, Estinien stomped over and picked her up by the fuzzy collar of her top, lifting her to eye level with his visor. “You are needed, Totomi.” she gave a blink of acknowledgement and a small nod, expecting to be put down and given a location. instead the visor on estinien’s mask rose and he was glaring daggers. “You misunderstand. You are needed. Not this fragment of despair that is here right now.”

I used to have this whole scenario written out but it looks like it got lost when I moved computers. Basically he shook her to her senses (both mentally and physically, just wiggling his hand to try and get her to wake up) and it ended with Mint turning into this miserable faucet of tears and hiccups as she babbled out what you’d expect; how he shouldn’t have been the one who die for her poor judgement, that she was a bloody fool and wasn’t worthy of being the warrior of light, etc. Despite being incredibly blunt and calling her a dumbass, Estinien managed to calm her down and make her realize that it wasn’t her fault, and that if time were to rewind and Haurchefant was told what was going to happen, he’d still take the spear for her.

Heavensward goes on as is until the peace trial between Ishgard and Vidofnir, which results in Mint getting fucking pissed and swears to bring Estinien back or kill him to free him of Nidhogg’s possession, because she’s learned that he would prefer to die than let Nidhogg use his body to ruin Ishgard and get revenge. Luckily, it doesn’t come to that thanks to Ysayle and Haurchefant. Mint refuses to leave Estinien’s room after he’s brought to the chirurgin, going so far as to veil a threat or two under a very cheerful demeanor if she’s forced to leave. When he wakes up and notices her, the first thing he gets is a slap to the face followed by copious amounts of swears that would make a Limsan sailor gasp.

After a full recovery, unless the situation calls for either of them to do something, you’d always be able to find Mint basically glued to Estinien’s hip, although he would refer to her as a thorn in his side, “but not one that really needs to be removed.” The story progresses into Stormblood and Mint considers confessing, until the war between Garlemald and Ala Mhigo begins and she realizes “hey, maybe I’ll wait until after this is said and done.” That time doesn’t come, though, due to Zenos being Zenos and the threats from Garlemald still looming in their faces. Nothing really happens during Stormblood because of how busy Mint ends up being.

while it isn’t canon to the opening of shadowbringers, in this ship, Estinien was at the ravine with Biggs/Wedge/Tataru/Mint while they were investigating, and despite his attempt, isn’t able to stop Mint from being pulled to the First. After convincing both Tataru and himself that she’ll be fine because she’s Mint, he goes and fulfills his investigation into the black rose for the scions, using his end of the bargain as an excuse to keep himself busy.

When he returns to inform Tataru of what happened and that he’s done, he’s met by a bombshell of a Lalafell running at him at full speed, launching herself into a hug whether he likes it or not. Even though it was only a few days? weeks? maybe like a month idk the timeline too well to him, it felt like much, much longer to Mint because of how the time passes between worlds, and she once again ends up as a babbling mess. Krile and Tataru give them a few minutes alone because they feel like Mint probably doesn’t want to be seen like this, and she takes the time to confess before he can even open his mouth to welcome her back, “because I didn’t know how long I’d be gone and I missed you and I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to come back and”

after that is some REALLY GUSHY stuff that makes me grin just thinking about because it makes my heart fluffy. Mint now spends all of her time on the Source with Estinien because she’ll be damned if she doesn’t get to make up for the time it felt like she was gone for. Her usual spot is on his shoulder, kind of carried like a sack of potatoes “because it’s comfy.”

#god reading this back #it feels like they've been together for literally ever when in reality it's been like. maybe 6 months canonically #could this game's timeline be ANY SLOWER #lady-springfox

[ecosystem-administrator]

Muster

5.0 spoilers - at the base of Mt. Gulg, Alphinaud talks to the Warrior of Light about their state of mind

Everything was in motion. Alphinaud had already expended what aether he could spare in helping set up the ley infrastructure for the giant Talos, and ceded his position to one of the Night's Blessed mages once he was done. There was nothing else but to let all the people they'd brought together do their work until it was finished.

With no more responsibility in the construction, his thoughts turned instead toward his friends and their condition...and one in particular. He scanned the crowd and soon caught sight of Mayhem, perched on a rock and watching the gathered workers with great interest. To his surprise, despite the gravity of their situation and the Warrior of Darkness' tenuous physical condition, their silver eyes were practically glowing with delight, tail swaying behind them jubilantly.

They grinned brightly at him as he approached. "Look at them all," they murmured in satisfaction. "Coming together to create something this huge and intricate...isn't it wonderful?"

"It is," Alphinaud agreed with a smile, following their gaze. "...And I'm pleased to see you in high spirits as well, my friend."

Silver eyes turned toward Alphinaud, and he found himself the subject of a keen gaze that he'd long since grown past finding discomfiting. "You were afraid I'd be overcome with melancholy, lamenting my uncertain mortality, something along those lines?"

"More or less," he agreed. There was no sense in hiding things from Mayhem - their ability to read people's motives was downright uncanny, to the point where he sometimes wondered if it was a passive effect of their Echo. "I think I have the right to be concerned, all things considered."

Mayhem smiled at him warmly, fondly. ""You do, and I'm grateful," they answered. "...But I'm all right. I mean...I'm terrified, of course. I have no idea what's going to happen once we go up there, and I absolutely don't want to die. ...Even so, I'm thrilled at what we've accomplished here." They gestured toward the workers, half a dozen different cultures visible between garb and races. "The ending of the story matters, of course it does, but no matter how it ends, it's the best we've ever done. I knew what I was doing when I started this time, so I managed to get it right."

Alphinaud tilted his head. "You've lost me," he admitted. "What do you mean, you managed to get it right?"

A wry grin. "When I started adventuring, I was just in it for the attention and the chance to learn things, you know. I turned out to be pretty good with a bow, and the more I showed off, the more I got commended for it. I wanted to see how far I could go, how good I could get, and...well, I wanted to have fun. The world around me is more fun the more people are smiling, so I did what I could to make people smile, but ultimately what I wanted was to entertain myself with learning their stories, helping them unfold. ...I didn't give any thought to the story I was becoming." They shook their head, silver gaze now going distant and a little sad with memory. "...You remember how you found me, after the attack on the Waking Sands?"

He nodded. "...I remember thinking that you weren't what I expected. I thought you would be angry, vengeful even, but you just seemed...lost."

"That's about the shape of it," they agreed. "I didn't...it seemed useless to be angry at the Imperials for doing what Imperials always do, I guess. But there I was, the last known survivor of a group working for the good of the realm, and suddenly I wasn't just a wandering storyteller interested in putting together everyone else's lives. Suddenly, I had to be the hero of a story myself. ...I picked up the role as well as I could, but I tried to put it down once everyone was safe. To speed my way into being a former hero, a one-off, someone who had accomplished one great task and was ready to pass on a legacy."

"And then the banquet happened," Alphinaud murmured.

Mayhem nodded. "...That was the start, of course. Even then...in some ways, having to go into hiding was a blessing. I could pretend that we were just supporting the real heroes, try to go back to just being a storyteller guiding the fraught paths of those around us. The Knight-Commander and the Azure Dragoon, the noble Iceheart and…" They shook their head, cutting off abruptly. "...it was a good story. It would have been a good story if it was just theirs. I thought that was good enough. ...Sometimes I wonder, if I'd stepped up and tried to be a hero before he called me one that day...could I have changed how his story ended?"

Alphinaud didn't need to ask who they meant; Haurchefant's death had hit Mayhem hardest of all. He hadn't been paying much attention to the exact nature of the bond between them, but looking back, he was fairly sure that they'd been lovers, even. "It wasn't your fault," he answered softly.

"I know." They sighed. "Twelve know he'd hate to think I blamed myself for anything, and it probably wouldn't have changed how things came out. ...But what I mean is, it took me that long to finally realize and accept that I'm in this hero thing for life. All that time around the city-states, I wasn't thinking about what I was doing at all. If I had been, maybe we could have more like this at home." They gestured again to the people still diligently toiling away at putting a giant Talos together. "But I got it right this time: I went in meaning to be a hero to them from the start. A hero is just a regular person who decides to do what they can do best, in a way that helps everyone, because they're chasing a vision of a better world they want to live in. ...If you show people that kind of hero, of course they get inspired to try it for themselves, to be the best they can be, too. I figured out how to do it on purpose, and this is the result."

"...I think I understand," Alphinaud agreed with a smile. "So no matter what happens next…"

"This is already a great story," Mayhem concluded. "I don't regret anything I've done here, and I'm ready to keep trying my hardest. Isn't that the best anyone can hope for?"

#ffxivwrite2020 #alphinaud leveilleur #wol #shadowbringers spoilers #does this make sense? #idk but I'm out of time #Mayhem