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gisenne-flameheart · 11 months

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Introduction and Summary of Brainstorm

Name: Gisenne Flameheart

Race: Duskwight Elezen

Sex and gender: Female

Age: 32 y.o.

Alignment: Order of the Twin Adder

Classe/job: Reaper

NPC ship: Rubicante

GENERAL

Born into a proud family of Duskwight seeking out a life of peace and seclusion in the depths of Eorzea's caves and caverns, Gisenne used to dwell in the Black Shroud. Her mother is a well-taught archer, a renowned hunter, while her father is excellent at cooking, from whom she somewhat inherited her own skills - a subtle, positive influence. Her parents are both esteemed in the clan, a branch that split from the main Wildwood during the founding of Gridania, living a unique, tranquil and unsociable cave life. Gisenne has a twin sister, a more cheerful personality than her, while she is rather composed.

The calm years passed by, the two sisters, young and determined, decided to explore a new world outside of the native forest, bid farewell to their parents and left their hometown. They loved their clan, but they embarked on the path of their own choice with full of thirst for adventures. They arrived in Gridania, the city-states built by Wildwood and Hyur. They had long heard that the Wildwood and the Duskwight called each other traitors. They struggled to understand why and how two different races, Elezen and Hyur, could co-exist in such harmony, but they recognized that it was not necessarily a bad thing to come into contact with them, at least to take the first step forward.

The twin sisters spoke with a unique accent. Sometimes they had difficulty catching on urban slang and jokes so they did give an impression of indifference - which was not very true, due to that thin language barrier. Their skin tone was quite rare in Gridania also, and they easily attracted attention of passersby on the road, but most of the pedestrians were just appreciating their distinctive characteristics and did not appear to be very xenophobic.

Slowly, the twins worked harder to adapt to the new environment, and everything seemed not as bad as they predicted. Both joined the Order of the Twin Adder. The elder sister hit off with the Serpent Squadron Sergeant and actively participated in the Grand Company assignments. Gisenne herself just kept her Serpent Captain rank, occasionally contributing seals, sometimes worrying about what to do with those Squadron members who appeared not very gifted. In fact, she never had any absolute sense of belonging to any party or organization. She prefers to read, explore, travel and immerse herself in strange knowledge that few people master, so her footprints have reached most places in Eorzea. She became knowledgeable, her vision increasingly broad, and her culinary skills more and more exquisite. As for her jobs, she first chose to be an archer like her mother, her keen eyesight aiding her in her course. Later, she successfully took on casting and healing jobs.

Gisenne is quiet and does not speak much. She loves her journey as a Warrior of Light. For her, everyone is a hero of their own life, just in different ways. She sometimes refuses to leave her name to the people she saved. And when she is off-duty, she rests and travels to enjoy some hard-earned leisure time. She is a very decent lady, polite, elegant, beautiful, and will not trespass your boundaries.

AS A REAPER

Speaking of the fate between Gisenne and Reaper, it has to be traced back to before she was called to the First. One ordinary day, by chance, after winning a lottery at the Gold Saucer, she came across Jijilyo and then met Drusilla, who asked her to visit the Lemures headquarters where she was persuaded to make a pact with a voidsent from the Thirteenth - she picked up her scythe and since then, she never put it down. With Drusilla, they formed a very familial bond and it became a habit when she got tired of the adventures, she loved to go back to her cool mentor in Ul'dah to drink a glass of strong liquor to warm her body, and then recount anecdotes of her long journey.

When she first became a Reaper, Gisenne was very confident to be soon qualified for this new job, just like other jobs she had mastered in the past. However, for some reasons, it seemed very painful for her to control the voidsent and properly employ its stygian power - much harder than she imagined. When she lifted the scythe and grabbed the job stone - a multi-aspect soul crystal whose surface had been carved by the myriad deeds of reapers from ages past - in her palm, she sensed an unspeakably powerful force oppressing and merging with her soul. Drusilla once taught that the Avatar was the manifestation of her pact with the voidsent on the other side, the embodiment of the close bond of their souls bearing the same wavelength. If she wanted to better control the voidsent, she needed to practice the Garlean techniques passed down by antecessor reapers, that was, training using different vessels, especially when the voidsent was strong.

Gisenne was certainly a talented and intelligent apprentice, but after a quite long time, she still felt powerless to grasp this job. Her body appeared unable to adapt to the erosion of darkness, but surprisingly, that voidsent seemed to know to pull away in time when she was about to collapse so as not to cause more damage to her aether and body. She learnt that if the contracted voidsent was a relatively powerful one, she would absolutely need to undergo more intensive practices to get used to it, and it was the case. She finally made it. She successfully partnered with her otherworldly contractor, and once again embarked on her adventures. This time, she was called to the First, the nearly dead world trapped in the Flood of Light.

Gisenne and the voidsent have already been able to fight very skillfully. They shared the same heartbeat and soul vibration, impeccable, safe and trustworthy. They rarely talked to each other. It was not that they haven't spoken, but very few. She has always been a taciturn person, and her contractor did not seem to talk much either. However, on many occasions, especially at critical moments in battles, the void partner always reminded her to be careful to avoid getting hurt, and it even, healed her wounds - much to her surprise. Every time she thanked the contractor, its response was the same: “You do not need to thank me. Our pact demands that I help you, and that you feed me further for it. I will honor my commitments, as always.” That strange voice sounded far away, but echoed clearly in her mind - deep, warm and resonant, like a summer breeze, and unmistakably male.

Although Gisenne was used to witness injuries, tragedies, death and displacement, and learnt to hide the most painful emotions in her heart without affecting others, her journey was smooth enough thanks to the help of her wise companions, and this, until she defeated Innocence - her body completely collapsed.

She was eroded by the blazing light, burning away her flesh and blood. She couldn't stand still and knelt on the ground, her scythe and her job stone falling to her feet. Using the last remaining force, she picked up the black crystal and squeezed it in her hand, tighter and tighter, as if grabbing the last straw, not knowing what exactly she was expecting from this gesture. In an instant, she felt the existence of that powerful dark force - her pact, her pact with that voidsent who had been with her for so long but had never met her face to face.

A voice sounded in her mind, the same voice, deep and warm: I am here.

She finally couldn't help crying from the agony, her, a tenacious woman, uncontrollably shedding tears of the glittering color of Light. She gasped, feeling her body mutate, disintegrate and crumble little by little. She sobbed and struggled to tell him about the tragic situation of the First, the adventures along the way, and now that something was wrong with her body - she was afraid of dying undignified, of turning into a mindless Sineater.

“You have suffered too much. Allow me to take care of this.”

She had no idea how he would help her, only feeling the soul crystal in her hand turning hot, with faintly glowing red and purple traces extending from the center to its periphery. Warm flames, red and black, bright and comfortable, so beautiful like the sunlight, intertwined and merged with the scorching white light in her body. Her blurred vision gradually recovered. She was still weak, but at least able to stand up.

She again thanked him, knowing that he was balancing her aether.

What he did could not completely restore her to normal. Later she used the excess of the light to defeat Hades. She knew that without him, she might have already turned into a Sineater. This incident strengthened the trust and the bond between her and the voidsent although she could only recognize him by the red purple traces flashed on the job stone, his voice, and the particular warmth that she has been able to associate with safety and comfort.

WITH RUBICANTE

She finally met his true self on the grandiose Khadga mountain where the decisive battle took place, his towering figure floating in the mid-air above the vibrantly colorful Thavnair. Wearing a wide brim hat and a long skirt, she raised her head and looked up at him, a thousand words only turned into a helpless, regretful whisper - they had even lost the right to exchange greetings. Cross-purposes and different standpoints, and they all understood those were the innate risks of the pact.

Gisenne recognized him by the voice she knew only too well. The one who destroyed the vault was her voidsent. She knew that in the end it was inevitable that their fates would end up differently - one shall stand, one shall fall. She reached under her robe, grabbing that job stone like she had done before every time when she needed him, the red purple traces on it brighter than ever.

“Do not worry, the pact is still valid, even if you have to turn your scythe on me with your anger and ambivalence, I will grant you the power you need. You did not betray me, nor did you betray the contract.”

They were both calm, too calm, a calmness that should not have existed.

After the battle, Gisenne asked Zero to preserve his existence before he completely dissipated. She knew that this might prevent him from dying normally, so she also asked his opinion, and finally he agreed on the grounds of keeping his sun burning - his sun, right before his eyes. She later took his crystal down the mountain to the alchemist Nidhana and made him a body, the same body as his voidsent one.

Gisenne is not a very emotional person, and neither is Rubicante, so facing their partner for the first time under such intense circumstances, their conversations still remained as rational as possible. After all, mortals and voidsents are more likely to end up on different paths.

When Gisenne asked Zero to crystallize Rubicante, she told him, sincere and honest, that she could very well form another pact if he left her, but she valued his help and his person more than anything else, and if he was determined to die in the Source, she would not force him against his strong will.

Then she left him the choice, she believed that he would make a smart decision himself. And he started to laugh in a self-mocking way.

In the end, he compromised. The idea of abandoning his sun was truly agonizing to him. He would not want to become that kind of miserable man, leaving her alone before her goals achieved and dreams fulfilled, before he could properly protect his flame and keep her burning like the world's brightest hero.

The reason why Rubicante came to the Source to "suicide" was that he could not die in the void, he could only go through endless resurrection and starvation again and again, he did not want to become a beast and continue living this eternal vicious cycle. But now he is in the Source, a lively world full of aether, and a faithful pact aiming to provide him with the food he needs. Moreover, the existence of the pact can prevent too much disturbance in the Source. For death, if he eventually dies, he will die normally in the Source. Aether, pact, normal death, all these, invalidate his suicidal motivation if we think this way.

So, after Rubicante gets his body, these two can happily live, fight and barbecue together! Gisenne will have him as long as she wants.

Rubicante is really suitable to be a contractor voidsent within Reaper's lore. I always have a soft spot for noble demons <3

Also, from the description of the Flamecloaked Archfiend Totem, he must be very popular and admired in the Thirteenth, but, his soul only resonates with the bravest hero, his sun <3

PS:

SPECIAL THANKS to @the-littlest-kojin for brainstorming together some great, logical and justifiable ideas, and to @cygnus-exul for the wonderful screens.

#ffxiv #warrior of light #gisenne flameheart #rubicante #voidsent

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elizabethrobertajones · 11 months

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I was just thinking how funny it is to ship a viera with Urianger because he's an elezen, which is An Elf for all appearances and even getting called elf in the First. But actually in the lore of the game they're regular ass people living people-like lives in cities complete with being an old long-bearded pope by 75 and idk Louisoix was probably 45 when he died based on elezen aging as we know it, and really only differentiate from hyur by the ears and height alone.

While viera are the long eared long lived mysterious forest peoples so actually fitting the ecological role of elves in the mythology of Etheirys.

Anyway that of course took my brain down the inevitable path of "it's also funny because of the lopporits" which made me realise that if viera are the elves of ffxiv then lopporits are like... the gnomes or something like it. The whimsical miniature version of the elf-type guy.

All this to say I think Urianger is the only elf in ffxiv who actually deserves to be thought of as an elf doing elf things, while all those ishgardian weirdoes are just Some Bloke, okay.

#ffxiv #endwalker spoilers

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dumb-hat · 1 year

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LFRP - Evander Winsome

Perpetually trapped between a sense of idleness and reckless, impulsive abandon, Evander never met a bad idea he didn’t want to take out to dinner. He’s done his level best to leave a dark past behind, but he can’t help it if the air feels cooler and the light a little brighter when you’re standing in the shade. It used to be that every day broke with him begging the question “Just how bored do I wanna be?” Now, he can’t seem to catch a godsdamn break. That’s okay though, theft adventure keeps the ennui at bay.

THE BASICS –––

Name: Evander Winsome

Age: 27

Nameday: 12th Sun of the 5th Umbral Moon

Race: Midlander Hyur

Gender: Male

Alignment: Chaotic Good, though he’s not always convinced on the “Good” part.

Marital Status: “It’s complicated. I mean, it’s not complicated to me, but everyone else seems to think it is."

Server: Balmung

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE –––

Hair: Chestnut Brown; looks to be in perpetual need of a trim

Eyes: Amber

Height: 5′9

Build: Evander has a swimmer’s physique: Long, lean, broad-shouldered and tapering to a narrow waist. Given his lifestyle, he might have trouble maintaining that as he gets older, but for now he’s gifted with a metabolism that lets him get away with precious little intentional maintenance.

Common Accessories: Far too many flasks; ignition keys and controls for various vehicles and small automata; his drone, Valencia; his dumb hat; a gold pendant in the shape of a swan, its neck crooked long; lockpicks; a multitool or three.

PERSONAL –––

Profession: Evander will admit to being a courier, a searcher, a seeker, a finder or something along those lines. If you need something, he can track it down and get it from one place to another. He doesn’t think of himself as much of a fighter, but he’s growing more comfortable with bodyguard work. He’s also a picklock, a safecracker and a burglar, though he’s not as quick to advertise all that.

Hobbies: He loves being around people, and he loves indulging. As far as he’s concerned, drinking and eating count as hobbies. Left to his own devices, he’s a tinker, an avid reader (particularly of romance novels, particularly the works of Quill Quivers [@worldofquillquivers] and Summer Bellmayne [@thefreelanceangel]), and often fond of especially stupid wagers, though straightforward gambling doesn't interest him as much.

Languages: He’s only fluent in Eorzean Common but he knows a smattering of Old Elezen and loves picking up bits and pieces of whatever he can along the way.

Residence: His Goblet apartment is under near-constant renovation. He’s got a room he rents from his Free Company, but it’s barely furnished aside from an astonishing array of liquor bottles, shipping crates and a huge canopy bed.

Birthplace: Limsa Lominsa

Patron Deity: He’s always personally felt a call toward Nymeia and Byregot, but feels its his duty to venerate Oschon, for some reason. He doesn’t much like to talk about it.

RELATIONSHIPS –––

Spouse: “I thought we went over this?”

Children: “Gods, I hope not.”

Parents: “Never knew ‘em.”

Siblings: “My brother raised me. I wish he was still here. You’d have liked him.”

Other Relatives: “Nope. None that I know of. That whole ‘orphan’ thing, y’know?”

Pets: “I take care of a monstrous, wonderful little sheep named Doctor One and a surprisingly intelligent smallshell named Saint Barnabus, who seems to have recently taken on another crab named Klaus as a tenant. There’s also my little drone, Valencia. A lot of people might not count her, but I do.”

TRAITS –––

* Bold your character’s answer.

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION –––

Smoking Habit: Definitely not a habit. He might take something if offered, but he won’t seek it out on his own and he’s more likely to politely decline.

Drugs: Yes. Not anything and everything, and not all the time, but yes. Doors were made to be open, and that includes the doors of perception.

Alcohol: Evander doesn’t have a drinking problem except for when he can’t get a drink.

RP HOOKS –––

Contemptible Youth: Evander grew up amongst a gang of orphans in Limsa Lominsa. Were you a fellow Limsan wharf rat? Were you a criminal? Did you just spend a lot of time in the wrong parts of town? It’s been a while, but you might recognize him.

Easy Mark: Evander often finds it easier to fly under the radar and avoid notice. To this end, he often tries to exude an air of hapless gullibility. Feel free to try and rope him into some con or scheme!

Yeah, Okay: These are Evander’s words to live by. It’s not that he can’t say no, so much as he’s learned that “yes” is usually the more interesting answer. Catch him in the right mood, and he’s likely to go along with almost any hare-brained plan.

Old Habits Die Hard: A part of him yearns to live a good, decent, upright life. The problem is that part of him gets bored very quickly. Lately, he’s found himself increasingly likely to drawn to less-than-legal endeavors to keep himself occupied.

People Person: Whether it’s meeting someone new, getting to know an old friend better, or even making a new rival, frenemy or worse, he just loves people at the end of the day. Don’t be shy. You don’t need an excuse. Just come say hi!

CONTACT INFORMATION –––

It’s not too hard to get a hold of me through tumblr. I mean, you’re already here, aren’t you? Just shoot me a message!

If you see me in game, I love walk ups, drive-bys, tells, whatever! Please, by all means feel free to say something, whether you want to interact in character or just say hi! It almost always makes my day.

I have Discord and I usually really like RPing there, though I kind of like to get to chat a little through another venue first. I sometimes, very rarely, wander through one of the big Discord servers out there, and if you find me out in the wild you can feel free to say hi there, too.

Finally, I’m based in the US (CST, GMT-6) but work most weeknight evenings and spend much of my weekends doing TTRPG stuff. My work is often flexible that I can chat or RP, or even get in game from time to time, but it's not always a given. It might sound like I'm hard to get a hold of, but I'm almost always happy to have a chat. If you catch me in game, you should definitely come say hello!

Notes –––

You can find Evander’s carrd here.

If you want to read some of the stuff I’ve written, you can check my spotty participation in the FFXIVWrite 2020 challenge right here. my even spottier 2021 here, and my surprisingly decent 2022 over here. I might have some alts here soon. You never know!

If you want to be bothered by my OOC blog, you'll find that over at @justlikethefish.

#ffxiv #ffxiv rp #balmung #crystal dc #ffxiv roleplay #ffxiv lfrp #lfrp balmung #dumb hat #I'm bad at tags #i hate tagging stuff #see this is why I usually don't do it

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emc2beans · 6 months

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I may have missed Gwynedd's nameday but I didn't forget about Llewellyn! To celebrate, I am posting Chapter 0 of a fic I'm working on. Sort of a 'what are some of the other characters doing while WoL is busy WoL-ing' with some OC x Canon because I can't help myself.

Join me as I dump further emotional turmoil on some teens and 20-somethings who are already going to be traumatized by the narrative.

***

Chapter 0: Meet the Grufuds

(Takes place post-Heavensward)

The streets of Limsa Lominsa were buzzing with activity, from the stalls of Hawkers Alley down to the docks themselves. At present, Alphinaud was doing his best to keep up with the towering Warrior of Light, Gwynned Grufud, as they sought to fill a list of requests given to them by Tataru. It was mostly things that they would have had a hard time finding in Revenant’s Toll. Additionally, their main reason for venturing to the capital of Vylbrand was the fact that there was an important shipment to pick up from the shipyard. A crate of rare tomes sent from Sharlayan, at Scions’ request, that required an escort back to the Rising Stones. Tataru had informed them that they were scheduled to meet with the captain of this particular vessel at a certain time, but Gwynedd was adamant that they could be there as early as they wanted and would not elaborate as to why she was so certain.

The ship itself was easy to find. It was much larger than the other mercantile vessels and sported a long, pointed prow covered in plates of what was likely pillaged Garlean steel. On the steel was engraved The Hullripper, completing the image of this imposing ship. As Alphinaud expected, the gangplank had not been lowered.

“I believe we are still a bit early.” He wanted to give Gwynedd the benefit of the doubt as she was friendly with many of the crews that frequented the Lominsan docks.

“Give me a mo’.” Gwynedd smiled and put two fingers to her lips. She blew two short whistles, then waited. From the deck of the ship came a chorus of three shrill whistles, a perfect call and response. A few moments later, the gangplank was lowered and Alphinaud could hear faint giggles coming from on deck. Gwynedd waved him along as she quickly jogged up the gangplank. Alphinaud followed behind, unprepared for what was waiting for them.

“Gwyn’s back, Gwyn’s back!” Five children, the youngest at about six and the oldest looking to be around eleven or twelve, swarmed the woman.

“Where have you been? Did you really fight a dragon like you said in your letters?” A little miqo’te girl asked as she climbed up Gwynedd’s clothes to reach her shoulder.

“How did you kill Titan? And Leviathan? Tell me!!!” A slightly older hyur boy bounced excitedly as he shouted his questions, clinging to the leg of Gwynedd’s trousers.

“Who did you bring with you? Hi!” A floppy-eared viera girl leaned around Gwynedd to wave at Alphinaud.

“Yes, I did fight a dragon, Nari. I’ll tell ye the stories later, Screech, but I’m here on business.” She pulled the hyuran boy off of her leg and turned to Alphinaud. “Meet my little siblings. Siblings, meet my friend Alphinaud.” Gwynedd proceeded to introduce the children from oldest to youngest; Matia (viera girl, 11), Cavato (lalafell boy, 10), Syrus a.k.a. Screech (hyur boy, 8), Fiona (elezen girl, 8), and L’nari (miqo’te girl, 6). “Now then, where’s the captain?” Gwynedd asked, looking around the deck.

“Muu-uumm! Daa-aaadd!! Gwynedd’s home!!!” L’nari shouted, making Gwynedd wince. The doors leading below deck swung open and out stepped two older roegadyn.

“Gwyn! Gods, lass, how long’s it been since ye left us?” The woman clad in a dark green jacket and tricorn hat hurried over and pulled Gwynedd into a tight hug.

“Too long, Mum, too long.” She replied, smiling at the pair. The man, Gwynedd’s father, took his turn embracing his eldest daughter and then plucked the little miqo’te from her shoulder.

“L’nari, wha’ ‘ave I said about climbin’ folks?” He asked the girl as she wriggled her way around to hang onto his back instead. Gwynedd chuckled heartily and put a hand on Alphinaud’s shoulder.

“Mum, Dad, I’d like you to meet Alphinaud Leveilleur, pretty certain I’ve mentioned him in my letters. Alphinaud, allow me to introduce Captain Angharad Grufud and her first mate Rhodri Grufud, my parents.” She beamed with pride.

“A pleasure to meet you. Gwynedd has told me much about you.” Alphinaud felt extremely small next to the three towering, muscular roegadyn. Of the two, Gwynedd definitely looked more like her father in both face and stature, being solidly built and sharp-jawed.

“Aye, and am I to understand that you two are also here for that crate of Sharlayan books? Your brother’s been itching to get at them, Gwyn, should nobody show up to collect.” Angharad smiled.

“Don’t worry, Alphie, I’ve only got one more sibling on this ship.” Gwynedd said, sensing her companion’s confusion as to just how big this family was. “You and he are about the same age, if memory serves. Come on, I’ll take you to say hello.” She led Alphinaud towards the captain’s quarters at the back of the ship. With no warning, she kicked the doors open and charged inside. “Welly, I’m ba-ack!”

“Wha- hey, Gwyn- ahk! Put me down!” The occupant of the room protested. Alphinaud carefully stopped the swinging doors and entered. Inside, Gwynedd had a younger roegadyn man in a bear hug, fully lifting him off of the ground. Laughing heartily, Gwynedd put her brother down.

“This is my baby brother, Welly!” She slapped her brother’s back firmly.

“Llewellyn Grufud, pleasure to meet you.” He offered a handshake and a smile to Alphinaud, who returned the gestures in kind.

“Alphinaud Leveilleur, and the pleasure is mine.” Alphinaud could definitely see that Llewellyn and Gwynedd were related, but Llewellyn lacked his sister’s roughened edges. He was also much shorter, and built from lean muscle rather than being broad and chiseled from stone like most roegadyn. He had a gentle face, piercing sea-green eyes, an adorably lopsided smile, soft-looking lips… Alphinaud could feel the tips of his ears turning red. Twelve preserve, had he been staring? He pulled his hand back and cleared his throat.

“Ah, right, you must be here for the books! One moment, please. I’ll go grab them from the hold.” Llewellyn moved towards the door but Gwynedd’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“I’ll get it, I know what I’m looking for. Why don’t you show Alphinaud all your fancy navigation stuff.” She waved at the map laid out on the center table and the instruments sitting on it, then made a quick exit.

~~~

Llewellyn internally cursed his sister for leaving him awkwardly alone with, and for embarrassing him in front of, someone new (and cute). At least she had suggested discussing something Llewellyn was competent in. He explained the finer points of his modifications of the standard route from Limsa to Kugane, all while Alphinaud listened with rapt attention. His attentive, deep blue eyes followed along as Llewellyn traced the line of the route, the sunlight coming in from the window sparkling through the elezen’s platinum-white hair. Alphinaud asked him a question and Llewellyn was grateful for the distraction. Suddenly, the doors creaked open again.

“Hope you two didn’t get into any trouble while I was gone.” Gwynedd grinned, the large crate of books tucked under her arm.

“No, no, Llewellyn was just showing me how he charted the ship’s next course. It was fascinating.” He glanced back at the other teen, a light pink dusting his cheeks. “Perhaps, if you ever find yourself near Mor Dhona, you could come to the Rising Stones and I’ll show you some of the books on astral triangulation we have there.” Alphinaud suggested. “Only if you’re interested, of course.”

“Sure!” Llewellyn reigned in his enthusiasm. “I-I’d like that.”

“I look forward to it. Until then.” Alphinaud smiled warmly and went back out onto the deck. Gwynedd gave her brother a thumbs-up and followed her companion out, closing the doors behind her. Llewellyn wanted to scream, both at the elated feeling in his chest and at his insufferable sister’s behavior.

~~~

As he unpacked the Sharlayan books, organizing them based on which of his fellow Scions had requested which book, Alphinaud’s mind began to wander. He had never realized just how much family the Warrior of Light had; she had never even mentioned being raised on a ship. It shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did, as Gwynedd had been protective and nurturing towards him since their first meeting. She likely saw similarities between himself and her brother, Llewellyn.

Alphinaud recalled his recent introduction to Llewellyn Grufud. The rough, warm skin of hand, his genuine smile and brilliant teal eyes, and on top of that he was very tall. Llewellyn even seemed interested in some of the same things he was and he hoped that they would have the chance to talk again. The sudden, giddy flutter in his chest made Alphinaud pause. He did want to see Llewellyn again, to get to know him better, but was there something else beneath the simple desire for friendship? It wasn’t as if Alphinaud lacked friends, it was just that the Scions were all much older than him and his schoolmates back in Sharlayan were often… behind him in terms of academics and maturity.

He recalled the times at the Studium where male classmates would mistake him for his sister, the confusion undercut with excitement when they flirted with him. That excitement was something he would always quickly squash down. Not that he thought there was anything wrong with the idea of two men being romantically involved, but he had his family’s reputation and future to think about, something his father had so often impressed the importance of upon him. Sharlayan was not terribly accepting of deviance from the prescribed norms, either. Alphinaud put the book in his hand down with a sigh.

Even if he was going to allow himself to consider the idea of dating another boy, he was assuming a lot in terms of what Llewellyn was interested in. It was better to hope for a comfortable friendship, like the one Alphinaud had fostered with Arenvald back when the Scions were still at the Waking Sands. He felt a little bit better as he formulated this course of action, firmly ignoring any emotions that would change his course.

#This will eventually intertwine with a story focusing more on Isolde I just havent written it yet #also fun fact the draft ver of this is called the 'gay baby saga'#I'll post to AO3 and reblog this with the link tomorrow #ffxiv oc stuff #writing stuff #ffxiv oc #wolphinaud #(sort of. Llewellyn isn't a wol he's just the teenaged little brother of one)#ANYWAY look upon me fic #Me: *slaps roof of Alphinaud* This elf can fit so much internalized disdain for nonconformity in him

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lizzy-calaxio · 10 months

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SO! I’ve been re-working a bit of Lizzy’s canonicity, cause things got a little hectic and I think I want to make things a bit more simple. (haha...)

I'm still thinking about Lizzy stuff to flesh out and round her out, so if you have any questions feel free to ask c:

The General Timeline:

- Lizzy is born, as a male au ra in the ruby sea - Lizzy gets launched off a ship while travelling with her birth parents in the Ruby Sea as a result of a pirate attack. This leads to Lizzy having a phobia of water, as well as a phobia of pirates. She gets rescued by Kojin and brought to an orphanage in Kugane (she becomes a female au ra at this point)

- She bounces between a couple orphanages as no one wants to adopt her, until she lands in Gridania, where she is adopted by Simon (hyur) and Amandine (deaf, duskwight elezen) Frizzle, she is given the name “Elizabeth Frizzle”

- She learns sign language, gardening stuff, she climbs trees, and aspires to be a white mage like Amandine

- Her parents go as field medics to help the gridanian soldiers while fighting the imperial army, they get killed during the calamity

- after spending one nameday alone (12 years old), Lizzy starts wandering the shroud, after a couple months she gets picked up by the sylphs, she adopts the name Lizzy Frizzixio

- after spending several years with the sylphs, she gets caught pickpocketing in new gridania and instead of given jail time, she’s forced to become an adventurer and help recovery efforts, eventually being forced to join the scions

- Lizzy vowing to be a pacifist, tries to spend most of her time adventuring as a scholar, though as a part of the scions, they utilized Lizzy’s sneaking skills that she gained from the sylphs to run covert operations, often being sent into enemy territory for information gathering

- Lizzy was not gifted the blessing of light, like the primary WoL, but during the ultima fight her scholar shielding was able to shield her and several others from the blast (though, everyone insisted it was Hydaelyn, causing her to lose a little bit of self esteem in her healing abilities)

- During the fight with Bahamut in the coils, Lizzy and the whole team in there, gets wiped out, Phoenix resurrects them using Lizzy as a conduit, resulting in Lizzy’s aether being tainted by Phoenix, permanently altering her limbal ring and hair color to be reddish-orange (Lizzy frequently dyes her hair tips back to blue, as their original state, but whenever she taps into the Phoenix aether, her hair burns the dye back to red)

- After the Banquet, Lizzy loses total faith in her healing abilities and becomes a ninja, she becomes an assassin for hire on the side in ishgard, and gets incredibly good at killing people, she starts going by Lizzy Calaxio at the suggestion of Shio

- After thordan is out of the picture, Lizzy lays an egg thanks to Taraine, and a dragon hatchling is born

- After ishgard opens up, Lizzy gets reunited with Brilliant Caladium, and they swiftly get married (Lizzy get pregnant with twins)

- Lizzy tries to spend as much time as she can with her new family, but the scions ever need their hero, and send Lizzy off to various locations, continuing her information gathering role

- After the Nhaadam, Lizzy gets pregnant again, with triplets, from a newer partner – Hawk

- Lizzy learns how to do black mage things from Suzaku

- Lizzy gets dragged on to the first alongside Shio, despite not being the intended target, while Shio absorbs most of the light from the lightwardens, Lizzy begins siphoning off small amounts to help ease the burden (this temporarily turns Lizzy's hair white with red tips)

- Before Mt Gulg, Lizzy and Sadu share an emergency wedding, resulting in Sadu becoming pregnant (with one kid)

- Lizzy gets assistance from Feo Ul to become a Dark Knight and helps guide Shio through the tempest+

- Lizzy stumbles upon Iremia’s apartment in Amaurot, and Iremia gifts Lizzy a portion of her aether, as well as her knowledge of Psychology, and (a small portion of) her ability to manipulate the emotions of nearby people, as a byproduct Lizzy also gains some memories of ancient times

- After travelling to Sharlayan, Lizzy starts studying there, and begins pioneering the field of Psychology, drowning her in paperwork

#ffxiv #lizzy calaxio

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texff14 · 10 months

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Albertain Lenoir, my main FFXIV character.

Albertain is a skilled Elezen, born into a legacy burdened with both power and responsibility. His inherent talent for dark magic promises great potential, yet he finds himself lost in the vast landscape of Eorzea. However, fate has a curious way of bringing souls together, and so Albertain crosses paths with Camil, a strong and elegant Hyur. As their lives intertwine, a profound connection forms, igniting a shared quest for fulfillment despite the unforgiving world and the sins of their parents.

#ffxivart #ffxiv oc #hyur highlander #elezen #hyur x elezen #hyur elezen ship #black mage #red mage #ffxiv #camiltain #ffxiv roleplay

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housedeaubemarle · 7 days

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The Grand Hunt - Part 4: The Trophy

Part 1: The Call

Part 2: The Tracking

Part 3: The Hunt

(written with @escherstrange-ffxiv who keeps on being amazing and mindbogglingly strong - we did it! We finished it!)

~*~

“Excuse me sir, has something happened? Why does everyone look so worried?”

The airship port worker furrows his brow, scratching his head under his tweed cap. Considering how the questioner has just stepped off the ship, a thick cloak round her shoulders and luggage in hand, the question makes sense.

“Horde attack about two hours past, milady - terrible business. The guards are out there now, sweeping the grounds; Ishgard even sent the Knights, and no wonder - two blasts they threw and the ground shook like nothing else. Hear tell they’ve already sent word to Twinpools for the dragon hunters.” He grimaces. “Think there were some casualties, poor souls.”

The eyes of the lady before him widen visibly. “Fury have mercy.”

The worker shakes his head. “Once a dragon, always a dragon.”

“I beg to disagree,” is a sudden reply. It comes from an Elezen who steps up neatly beside the lady. He’s visibly taller than her, but also wears travel garb, with bags in both hands. “Nidhogg’s hordes don’t speak for those who seek peace with Ishgard.”

The dock worker is about to object, but sees the glint in the newcomer’s dark brown eyes, even as his posture is relaxed, and voice civilly smooth.

“Well, can’t blame a man when half the cliff is gone,” he says gruffly.

“No, perhaps not.” He looks sideways at the woman, whose brow is wrinkled in concern. “Come on, Dine. Sooner we get home, sooner you can get that look off your face.”

She nods, then looks back to the worker. “Thank you. Fury keep you,” she says kindly before moving away with her companion.

The worker bows shortly, still stinging a little from her companion’s remark. He turns back to his duties, not quite hearing a shocked “Cillien!” from behind him.

Some way away from the airships, Cillien faces his employer, his face the very picture of surprise. “Lady Oudine?” His blue eyes dart to the person with her; the shock increases sharply. “Lord Remont! Wha- how-”

Remont tilts his head in some confusion. “That should be our question considering how we had planned this as a surprise.”

Cilien stares at him as if he were speaking Doman. “S-surprise?”

“Yes, Rem said he’d come home with me to visit Mamma,” says Oudine with no less bewilderment. “We took the first airship out of Tailfeather, and the wind was with us. But we just heard there was an attack-” She stops. “Why are you here?”

“I… ah…” Cillien looks back and forth between his masters, trying to find the right words. “Well-”

“Cillien, I found them!”

Everyone looks up to see a much shorter Hyur running towards them, panting from his efforts. “It took some doing but they’re-” He screeches to a halt, suddenly realising exactly who Cillien is standing with. “Milady! Milord!”

Oudine’s mouth opens again to see another familiar face, in a completely unexpected place. “Lamb?”

Remont’s eyes jump from the dismay on Cillien’s face, to the horror in Lamb’s, to the utter stupefaction of Oudine’s. He puts a hand on his sister’s shoulder bracingly, as he asks, “Who exactly have you found, Lamb?”

~*~

“Isillud…? Izzy.”

The exhaustion is too deeply set, so it takes a few more shakes before the grey Elezen can bring himself to bleary consciousness. Stiffness and aches begin clamouring for attention across his body, resulting in a heartfelt groan. The waking world is too cruel for someone who’s been through as much as he has in one morning. Eventually, very eventually, his eyes focus.

A very tall, rather tanned Elezen, with short chestnut hair and an undercut, vaguely familiar dark brown eyes and attractive cheekbones, looks back at him. He wears a small smile as he places a mug on the bedside table.

“It’s been a while, cousin.”

It is a familiar scene with a familiar feeling: The languid tone like silk in his ears, the aroma of coffee tickling his nose, and too-bright sunlight pushing through the thin curtains.

The only difference is that Isillud Losstarot isn't buck naked; he checked.

That's when he realises he's still in the present: He's at Falcon's Nest, he brought Rewelle here. He sits up but the room begins to spin and he falls back onto the pillow. "Rewelle, will she be alright…?"

That that should be Isillud’s first question makes Remont’s smile grow.

“She’s been stabilised, the healer told us, but still not awake,” he says, putting the back of his hand against Isillud’s forehead, gently brushing his bangs aside, to check for a temperature. He puts it to the side of the patient’s face as well, for good measure. “We won’t move her home until she regains consciousness.”

Satisfied that there isn’t a fever, he settles a thin blanket back over Isillud, now a little paler from his exertions. Remont sits back in the wooden chair next to the bed.

Isillud leans into Remont's hand, reluctant enough to look a little pained when his cousin returns to his chair but awkward enough to not look him in the eyes. "I see," he simply says.

“I’m sorry to wake you, but the innkeeper said you’ve been out cold since you got them to see to Rewelle. Had to check if you were rational, in addition to being alive. Also to keep Dine from worrying herself to death over you.” The smile becomes rather rueful. “Her concern also involves your brother despite his absence. Do you wish us to let him know where you are?” The dark brown eyes take on a curious gleam. “Or are you expecting him shortly?”

Remont's question assures him that Joshua and Escher weren't around at least, though he silently prays they made it to Ishgard without rousing suspicion. "Just tell Joshua we are…well." His pretty face frowns a little, "...What are you doing here?"

The other man considers his response. Izzy looks like he's been crumpled up and thrown about like a - while still beautiful - scrap of paper despite the stoic message for his own brother. Whatever agreement they'd had in the past - when they’d found out exactly whose son each of them had been - doesn't preclude a little levity to try and ease the tension.

So he just says lightly, “Taking care of you, since it seems you can't be trusted to do it yourself.”

The tips of Isillud's ears flush slightly pink at Remont's answer. He's still your cousin, Izzy, he reminds himself. "I just do it differently," he retorts, sulking slightly. Remont might remember that he sleeps in and used to neglect regular meals but it doesn't mean he'll admit it. Not to family, anyway.

Remont chuckles. In culinary terms, it’d be a dark chocolate brownie of a laugh: delightful, warm, maybe just a little too rich for comfort. Just a touch.

“Very well, little cousin, though I’m not sure I agree with your methods.” He leans back in the chair, looking as comfortable as if it were the plushest armchair known to man. “I’m here to visit my dear old mother - a surprise from her darling boy whose new haircut I’m sure she will adore.” He turns his head left and right rather proudly.

Isillud can't help but smile at the cornrows in the side. "She will certainly have much to say about it. I don't think I fit the style, though I do see its appeal."

Remont almost asks whether his cousin sees the appeal in the haircut itself, or on him specifically, just to see if the smile will become a blush.

Instead, he continues, “Also I wanted to see my celebrated cousins for myself. Dine says you’ve been acquitting yourselves well in high society.”

Isillud twirls a lock of his hair, partly flustered and partly proud at Remont's compliment. "It's all Joshua, really. He has a knack for it I never had. And you? Are you still adventuring?"

“I'm flattered that you think me, a spoiled highborn son, an adventurer,” says Remont with a boyish grin. “Say rather I've not been travelling much, not since we’ve expanded the Ranch’s breeding facilities to keep up with demand. Even I’ve had to be on hand, getting up at odd hours to help feed the chicks and check on the nests. Yet I never thought I’d see orders coming from the likes of Doma, so it's worth it.”

"Never thought I'd see the day Remont de Aubemarle becomes a chocobo rancher instead of bounding off on the next adventure. Perhaps you might take up the mantle of Viscount too?" Isillud teases.

The other Elezen just smiles; he's not about to take easy bait like that. “Hardly. ‘Tis Dine’s good management, I believe, much like Joshua’s knack.” He gazes at Isillud for a short minute, as if looking for something. Then his smile seems to grow quite gentle. “Such reliable siblings we’ve been blessed with, Izzy. Strange, isn’t it, that they care so much for us in spite of our own opinions?”

Isillud snuggles back into bed, loosening a button on his collar; he's not slept fully clothed in bed since childhood and it smothers him so. "As we do for them. It goes both ways."

Remont doesn't miss the flash of neck and collarbone, and also doesn't take such bait, sitting quite comfortably in his chair.

“Will you tell me what happened, if I ask nicely?” His tone would be more suited to asking whether Isillud prefers tea or coffee.

Isillud's beaming smile is half hidden by his pillow and the soft strands of white hair falling over his face. "Let me hear your best attempt first, cousin." Even if Remont is a cousin and older by a year, he's not going to let him off easy.

Remont snorts in amusement, enjoying the look of angelic innocence radiating off the other Elezen. it's the white hair, he thinks - quite a halo-like appearance. He moves his chair, just so he can lean closer.

“If you wanted a bedtime story, you could've just asked.” And because Remont can't help himself, he reaches out to stroke Isillud's soft hair, like he's soothing a child to sleep.

“The innkeeper says a man carried the lass in, and said he'd been hired to escort her to her cousin's in the Nest. They'd gotten caught in the attacks and she'd gotten hurt terribly. Please get a healer at once, the man had said, and a clean, airy room. Don't bother about him; he would shift for himself. Of course that wouldn't do, so this most compassionate proprietor had one of his workers give the man a room while they hastened for help for the poor young lady.

“Cillien and Lamb, the reason we found you, say the innkeeper perhaps had misheard. Lord Isillud had merely been kind enough to offer his escort for Rewelle to her cousin's at the Nest, particularly since her ladyship the Viscountess requested for both the lords’ assistance. They are here because they'd heard of the attacks and became worried.”

Remont's fingers don't stop their slow, languorous movements, just like his calm, even voice.

“It is extremely curious why you didn't take the easier route of the airship, and somehow ended up just outside the Bridge where the cliff got destroyed.”

His touch reminds Isillud of when his mother used to put him to bed, her long fingers gently massaging his scalp as she told stories of illustrious and noble ancestors.

"Extremely curious indeed," he murmurs, hovering over the edge of sleep with such gentle ministrations. "Why, it almost seems like it was entirely orchestrated to get rid of some ne'er do wells who had attacked one of the Viscountess's staff…and perhaps as a warning sign to the ignoble who employed them."

Remont just hums in reply, saying nothing more. He watches his cousin's eyes close fully again, making sure to keep patting Isillud's head till the breathing is slow, and even-paced.

“You and your brother have done much for us, Izzy,” he whispers. “I wonder if you even knew the risks you undertook.” He drops a quick – and to his credit, quite fraternal – kiss on Isillud's brow then rises to quietly leave the room.

Outside, his sister stands, hands crossed, staring at the door of Rewelle's room as if it had committed a cardinal sin.

Only when he calls her name and touches her shoulder does she look up. The glare softens at once. “Is he alright?”

Remont nods. “Come, we shouldn't talk here. Let’s take a walk outside.”

The siblings head downstairs, where Cillien is having an overdue bite to eat. He stands when he sees his masters appear, but Oudine waves him back down.

“It’s alright, please carry on with your meal. I must confer with my brother on what to do next.”

“Yes, milady.”

Remont throws him a smile as he nods at Cillien's plate. “Any good?”

Cillien returns a helpless grin. “Aubemarle has spoilt me hopelessly, milord, but it will do. Cook would have an opinion or three, I shouldn't wonder.”

Remont chuckles, and even Oudine finally cracks a smile. “Good man.” He gives Cillien another nod and walks with his sister out of the inn.

Instinctively, Oudine tucks her hand around Remont's elbow as they begin their aimless stroll. The streets bustle with activity - people are running back and forth, spreading news and rumours alike. Several armoured men move amongst the crowd.

“It seems we owe our cousins thanks,” says Remont in a low voice, unfazed by his surroundings.

“How so?”

“Izzy alluded to an attack on one of the staff, and an ‘ignoble’ whom the attackers worked for.”

Oudine stares out into the street, swiftly putting theories and possible pieces together. “Ajax.” Her brows meet in a fierce glare. “That bastard arranged an attack on Rewelle?”

Remont is probably the only person who wouldn't bat an eyelash at Oudine swearing. “I am unsurprised. Even Tramault can't make things disappear if Ajax is involved directly.” He narrows his eyes. “The Losstarots must have lured Rewelle's attackers out of the city. I assume they had plans to get rid of them somehow, but dragonfire would have changed everything. I can't quite account for Joshua, but then, it's best for the head of the Losstarots not to be seen.”

Oudine’s mind races with this new information. “Then that means they used Rewelle as bait. Joshua and Isillud might have been discovered. They could have been killed.” Her grip around Remont's elbow tightens. “Idiots.”

Remont pats her tense hand. “Rewelle wouldn't have agreed if she didn't want to.”

She shakes her head. “She's a maid in our employ. There is something to be said for power imbalances.”

“Like the one between us and the Gaussains,” replies Remont calmly. “I think they had little choice.”

Oudine falls silent, but her hold on his elbow does loosen a little.

“Why?” She asks at last. “Why would they do so much for us? For Rewelle? They're finally starting to see progress within Ishgard - the name of Losstarot is becoming more known for their generosity amongst the lowborn and abilities to the high. Why risk all that for… for such distant kin as us?”

Remont looks at his sister. “I thought you liked them.”

“I do like them, hence I refuse to treat them as tools to be used when convenient and put away when not,” says Oudine with frustration. “Rewelle too is not an object for us to move as and when we please.”

“...Dine.” now he pauses, so he can look her in the eye. His voice is gentle.

“Have you considered, perhaps, they also like our family enough to help us? That when they heard Rewelle was in trouble, they helped because it was right to do so, Gaussains or no?”

Oudine stares up at her younger brother's serious expression. Then she looks down, shaking her head at herself.

Remont pulls her into a tight hug. “I'm sorry I left you with those Ishgardian beasts for so long, Viscount. You seem to have forgotten that there are trustworthy men even here.”

She closes her eyes, leans her forehead against his shoulder. “Then stay longer this time, Rem. At least long enough to help me hunt down one of them.”

He smirks. “You're set on it then.”

“Yes.” She raises her head, and the expression on her face resembles the Dowager's when provoked. “Gaussain has overreached.”

Remont's smirk widens. “Understood, milord. First, we have to take care of our injured.”

She nods. “I have some ideas.”

~*~

Early the next morning, a carriage draws up to the Losstarot residence. While Remont remembers Isillud's tendency to sleep in, they also want to check on Rewelle and Lamb who's been tasked to watch over her while the Aubemarle party returned to Ishgard the evening before.

Remont jumps down to go knock on the front door.

“Remont de Aubemarle,” says the Elezen to Ser Drouhont. “Apologies for such short notice, but we're here for Lord Joshua de Losstarot. We'd like to bring him to Falcon's Nest, if he would be so kind as to accompany me and Viscount Oudine.”

"Mine apologies, but the young lord was entertaining an eminent Sharlayan scholar until late last night and is now nursing a dreadful headache. He has given express orders to not be disturbed." Drouhont bows deeply. "May I have the honour of passing him a message when he wakes?"

Remont only just manages to bite back a laugh at this frank declaration. He knows of Joshua enough to conclude Isillud isn't the only one paying for their part in this scheme.

“I understand. Pass him my sympathies, and an invitation to the Polar Head inn, in Falcon's Nest. If he can't rise, please reassure him we will return his brother safely before the day is out.”

When he returns to the carriage alone, Oudine just raises her eyebrows inquiringly.

He grins. “Joshua is indisposed, but I've left the message. I'm sure he'll come find us.” Or not, depending on how long his head keeps pounding.

Oudine casts a doubtful look at him. “I know it's early but isn't he worried about Isillud?”

Remont snickers as the carriage goes on its way to the airship port. “Don't fret, Dine - those brothers have their own way of taking care of each other.”

Meanwhile, Drouhont closes the manor doors with a quiet click then drifts to the drawing room where Joshua lies with an ice pack on his head, shoes kicked off haphazardly and resting at a table leg.

"Fuck you Izzy, you left me with a fucking madman," Joshua mutters, the few short years spent in Limsa showing in his colourful language. He doesn't even move his head to look at Drouhont. "Who was it?"

"Lord Remont de Aubemarle came to bring you to Falcon's Nest to see your brother. I told them you are unwell as per your orders and he said he will return Isillud safely before the day is out."

Joshua tenses. He moves his head but moans when the room spins, returning to his initial position on the pillow. "So he's well, and they've found out."

"That would seem to be so, milord. Shall I prepare a carriage?"

"What for, to yell at him? We all know what happened. I'll yell at him when he comes back." Joshua turns to the backrest - the patterns are more soothing to sore eyes - and curls up. "Keep telling people I'm sick, Drouhont."

"Very well, milord." Drouhont bows and drifts out the door. He wonders briefly if his ex-commanding officer is aware of it yet.

~*~

Ser Lucille sighs at the slightly wider gap between Black Iron Bridge. "Dragonfire, you say?"

"Well, there was a report of a Sharlayan scholar at The Pike doin' some research."

She rolls her eyes. If it's who it is, the dragons are less paperwork. "We'll find them if we have the time. For now focus on weeding out the dragons. They must be around somewhere."

~*~

Sydney takes a sip of Thavnairian chai - hot, burning, and creamy, just the way he likes it. A half-folded letter is tossed carelessly onto a side table. "Nasser."

A tall broad-shouldered Raen pokes his head out from the kitchen, wiping his spice-laden hands. "Sir?"

"Our guest should be reaching the airship landing soon. Could you pick him up and bring him straight to his destination?"

"You do not wish to meet him?"

"I don't want to hear a common thug's desires." He removes his pince-nez to wipe the lenses.

"Very well." Nasser hangs up his apron by the door and heads out.

~*~

Back at the Polar Head, there is a knock, then another, on the door of Isillud's room.

Lamb the footman had also been tasked to see to Isillud's needs. While it might have been a chore some days ago, Lamb now would run to Dalmasca and back if Isillud wished it. Anything could be done for the one who saved Rewelle.

“Lord Isillud?”

Isillud groans at the door. Not even when he was in exile was he subject to so many interruptions. Instead he throws the pillow over his head and sleeps some more.

Lamb can’t help grinning when he hears the groan from within. Instead of leaving, he opens the door quietly. Without another sound so as not to disturb the snoozing figure in the bed, he leaves a can of hot water, an enamel basin and a fresh towel on the bedside table. On the chair, he drapes a clean shirt and trousers - originally Cillien’s - since he’s fairly sure Lord Isillud would prefer a change of clothes when he wakes, even if it’s just humble cotton and linen.

He leaves as silently as he entered, then moves onto another room. Its occupant doesn’t open her eyes until he hovers over her.

She blinks awake, focuses on his face, and offers a smile. “No luck then?” she asks in a hoarse, weak voice. It’s still music to Lamb’s ears after her entire ordeal.

It is well after midnight, in some blessed hour, when Lamb is jolted awake from where he’s bent over, half sleeping on Rewelle’s bed. His lower back yells mutiny at him, but it is nothing since he’d just felt someone touch his hair.

The candles have gone out, but he can vaguely see her looking at him.

“Thank the Fury and all the gods,” says Lamb fervently, grasping her hand and pressing it to his lips without thinking. He gets up to see her face closer, still holding onto her hand.

“Where…” she tries, but the sound is weak and creaky. She winces at a pain that shoots into her torso.

“Falcon’s Nest. Lord Isillud rescued you.”

She breathes out, relieved. “Is he… safe?”

“Yes, he’s alright. He’s fine.”

“Good…” Her eyes begin to close again, sleep regaining its hold. “Stay, please?”

The grip on her hand gets tighter. “I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

Rewelle smiles, then drifts back to sleep.

He shakes his head. “Think milord’s sleeping off the amount of heroics from yesterday.”

Rewelle chuckles, though it aches to do so. “No armour, yet a knight.”

Lamb tucks a loose strand behind her ear. “For which I’ll be eternally grateful.”

She looks at him with her dark eyes, taking in his expression. “...thank you, Lamb.”

“Whatever for?”

The smile, even with lips as pale as hers, is rather like early summer: lovely and bright. “Everything.”

Lamb can’t say anything to that, so he just leans over to kiss her forehead. “Could you keep anything down, do you think?”

“Not yet. Maybe… maybe after her ladyship arrives.” Rewelle sighs. “She knows?”

Lamb smiles helplessly. “I think she and Lord Remont worked it out. She said she had a plan for you.”

“...am I going to lose my job?”

Lamb laughs the first hearty laugh he’s done in weeks.

~*~

“I left him some things in case he woke up before you arrived, milord, but so far he hasn’t stirred.”

While a much-relieved Oudine has gone in to visit Rewelle, Remont laughs outside in the corridor. He holds a box in one hand. “I expected as much. I’ll take it from here, Lamb. Thank you.”

The footman bows with an amused smile, letting his master be.

“Izzy, I’m coming in whether you're ready or not,” he says out loud.

Within the room: "If you're not naked and down to fuck, I'm not accepting," Isillud mumbles softly into his pillow through gritted teeth. What does he need to do to get some proper sleep around here??

The door remains shut. From experience, Remont has to surmise he's being cussed at.

“I've no idea what you're saying, but it can't be good,” he says with much amusement. “Do I have to eat all of these eclairs myself then?”

Oh, to be torn between sweets and sweet slumber, Isillud's eyes snap open but only to consider whether Remont meant literally or figuratively. "Urghhh," he groans, rolling out of bed (still in his previous clothes because he's lazy like that) and shuffling to the door, swinging it open.

To Remont, Isillud is, in a word, amusing: the messy hair, tired circles under his eyes, clouded green irises - no one would believe this was the absurdly beautiful Lord de Losstarot who visited the Viscountess just three days past even.

He takes about five seconds to absorb the details of this shambling husk of a noble, then grins.

“Dear cousin, if you're going to insist on being a hero, then you'll have to bear the consequences.” Remont holds up the box. “Half a dozen of ‘Lord Isillud's favourites’, with Cook's compliments, since ‘his lordship actually asked for it a while ago’.”

He ruffles Isillud's bedhead affectionately. “Have a few of those, then get dressed if you please. Rewelle and Dine would like to see you.”

"I didn't ask for it to turn out that way," Isillud mutters, scratching his hair and his crotch with the coordination of a seasoned pro before taking the box. "...give me half a bell."

After scarfing down three, he finally feels human enough to wash his face, wipe the grime and dirt from his body and change into the clean clothes laid out on a chair, though the gloves stay on. He claps his hands to dispel the dust as best he can, pockets the ear clasp, then heads out to meet everyone, prim and proper as he can look in the given circumstances.

In the corridor, Remont smiles approvingly at Isillud’s improvements. “This way, my lord.” He leads the way to Rewelle’s room, and opens the door.

Inside, on the same kind of bed Isillud wishes he was still in, Rewelle lies under some blankets, covering her up to her shoulders. Her complexion has barely any colour in it, and the morning light shows scratches and bruises across one side of her face. But her eyes are open and clear, looking at Oudine who sits closely by her bedside.

When those same eyes catch sight of Isillud, Rewelle gives him the widest, warmest smile she can manage. She would have done the same even if he had been covered in slime and mould.

“Lord Isillud,” she says hoarsely, but in a welcoming tone.

Oudine glances up at him and though she doesn't really smile, she wordlessly vacates her chair, gesturing towards it.

Thinking it a courtesy that should last no more than a few minutes (Rewelle needs her rest after all), Isillud stands at the foot of the bed, politely declining Oudine with a shake of his head and a raised palm.

"How are you holding up?"

Oudine steps aside as her brother uses one hand to gently push him forward. “You won’t hear her from there,” says Remont.

Isillud is duly moved closer to where Rewelle’s head rests on the pillow. She can’t help a tiny laugh at the way the nobleman seems so hesitant, quite unlike any highborn she’s seen before. “Alright enough, milord.” Her eyes shine up at him despite the lack of strength in her voice. “More than I would be without your help. Thank you for saving my life.”

He is about to speak, but stops. What does he say?

You're welcome.

It was nothing.

'Tis your courage that saved you.

Nothing works. She must not know it didn't go to plan. Oudine will have our heads if she knows how much danger Rewelle was in. But they already know she was out where she shouldn't be, and he brought her back; the circumstances are too suspect; too timely.

Between the choice to tell all or to leave questions, he answers the only question that needs answering: He takes out the ruby clasp and gently places it on her blanket. "They will harass you no more, Rewelle. Breathe easy."

Remont sees the ruby glint under the light, and recalls years ago, when he was still regularly haunting all the smoky clubs and lounges highborn Ishgardian sons patronised, how often Ajax's older brothers had complained they couldn't wear other jewels in front of their father. That everything was about those ‘damned Thavnairian rubies’ they couldn't get rid of. Seems like the baby of the family was allowed to bend the rules, thinks Remont with some wry amusement.

His sister is reflecting on a different memory. He said that to me when he visited us the first time, thinks Oudine from where she stands behind them. I wonder who gave him similar reassurances. Why it was needed.

That last question is answered as soon as it is asked. It had been five years in exile, five years of shame; five years of having your family torn apart and scattered to the winds, not knowing if anyone had survived. Not knowing if you could survive without hope of regaining what you'd lost.

Breathing easily, concludes Oudine, would have been a luxury.

From where she lies, Rewelle looks down at the valuable earring. Her eyes widen at the implications. She tries to lift her hand but her body still feels too heavy. So she wiggles her fingers from out of the blankets at least, managing to pinch Isillud's loose sleeve (Cillien's shirt had been a few ilms wider in just about every measurement - a common occurrence when your frame is as rake-thin as Isillud's).

“Then… it's over?” She even glances at her masters, as if to seek confirmation. Remont smiles, Oudine nods. Rewelle looks back up at her rescuer, whose face is all kindness, and tears cannot help but spill over.

Months of torment ended. Yisa avenged. There is hope again for the normalcy she had once enjoyed before all this. She could walk freely again, on her own, without fear.

Though it hurts to do so, Rewelle breathes in, so she can speak a little louder, with more emphasis. “I can never repay you, milord. Not in this lifetime. But you will be in my prayers every night. Thank you, truly.”

Isillud's sleeve slides a little off his shoulder, gooseflesh showing on his grey complexion. He simply nods. He doesn't deserve her gratitude, not when he's the reason she's in bed. He looks at Remont, silently pleading, ‘Can I go now?’

Without missing a beat, Remont steps forward. “Come, Rewelle. Lord Isillud is a rather shy individual,” he says, winking at her conspiratorially, and moving her hand gingerly back under the blankets. “And Lamb will turn us into porridge if we keep you up any longer. Do us a favour and rest; there’ll be time later.”

Rewelle smiles through the tears. “Yes, milord.”

Remont puts both hands on Isillud’s shoulders, not bothering to put the sleeve back. “Almost done, cousin. Courage now,” he murmurs as he steers Isillud out of the room, without letting him go.

They wait outside, Isillud confused – more courage? Again? – while Remont is poker-faced and keeps his hands on Isillud’s shoulders. Then Oudine emerges from the room a minute later, shutting the door behind her.

She gazes at Isillud, more serious than he has ever seen her. Every time they have met before, whether in public or private, Oudine has always had a welcoming smile and a kind greeting for him and Joshua. This… is new.

“You risked so much more than your lives, do you know?” she says, low-voiced, her grey eyes directed straight at his green ones. “This is Gaussain we face. Gaussain, with direct line to Durendaire. Gaussain, with such wealth and power, Haillenarte had to be extra careful in rejecting their offers - Count Baurendouin himself would have capitulated, if not for Lord Stephanivien.”

Remont squeezes his shoulders; warmth goes through Isillud’s skin. Courage.

“Gaussain holds us Aubemarles in his hands, at least until recently. I was too young and desperate to understand when he offered to help after our father died, but that is Tramault’s way: find the weak, hold them by the neck until they go limp or die.” Her fists are clenched tight, white at the knuckles. “And Mamma decided it was fine to ask you to do this, to endanger yourselves for us, when you and Joshua have worked so hard…!”

In one swift movement, Isillud is yanked from Remont’s hold into a tight hug, Oudine’s fierce whisper beside his ear and her arms around his shoulders.

“Don’t you dare do this again, Isillud de Losstarot. We could have lost all of you…!”

She knocks the wind out of him with her sisterly embrace and the implications of his involvement begin to dawn on his groggy mind.

The rules have changed. They are no longer commoners where what the rich do have nothing to do with them, nor does getting rid of a spoilt brat's thugs simply stop at the thugs. In Ishgard, the chain is long, sometimes obscured by multiple links as it trails up, up the long ladder of command, winding and doubling back on rungs.

They have yanked the chain. Once Tramault de Gaussain cottons on to what he and Joshua are doing, there is no turning back.

But this is what Joshua wants. For noble House Losstarot to be where it was. Where we were. If it means knocking House Gaussain off its pedestal, it is the path we choose to walk.

A hand slowly, carefully creeps up Oudine's back and pats it. Once, then twice.

We will rise, we will rise. And when we return then the reckoning begins.

"Thank you for your concern, cousin."

The End (for now).

[May the Rood ever flourish.]

#ffxiv oc #ffxiv rp #isillud losstarot #joshua losstarot #oudine de aubemarle #remont de aubemarle #rewelle laubaut #lambin forrest #oudine my love how are you so kind but have so many trust issues (I know how but still)#she had a Very Long Word with her mother the night before #not that the Dowager was remotely sorry for getting others involved but the point was made #the entire Aubemarle staff now is going to think Izzy is honestly really shy in private #Joshua you poor boy what did Escher DO

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