#kora arbreaux

[outoftheshade]

Ever wonder 'bout what he's doin'? How it all turned to lies? Sometimes I think that it's better To never ask why

#what used to be #kora arbreaux #(redacted)

[apowersodivine]

#FFXIVWrite2021 Day 9//All My Fragile Strength Is Gone

The sun was setting, but Kora still found herself out in the middle of La Noscea, training. Her muscles were sore and she was covered in a sheen of sweat, but she kept going.

She held weighted wooden batons in her hands, slashing through the air with them as she stepped and spun, jumped and slid, conditioning her arms.

Usually, this would have shut out any intrusive thoughts, but not this time. She thought about recent and also not so recent events. Her being seen, and feeling, so emotionally weak.

What was there to do about that kind of weakness? She cut at others with her words, but that didn’t strengthen her. She tried to pound down any ‘bad’ emotions. That ended up making things even worse. She tried making herself numb to it, also bad.

So what could she do to toughen herself up in that way? Or was the muscle that was her “heart” just too weak to ever make strong?

Her grip on the batons grew tighter and she went even deeper into her training. Maybe she couldn’t strengthen her heart, but she could physically defend it if she had to.

(For my character koraa.carrd.co)

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite2021 day 9 #kora arbreaux #writing #writings

[the-baschet]

Still making the same mistakes. When will I learn?

(A scene with @outoftheshade)

#Final Fantasy XIV #Final Fantasy 14 #FFXIV #ff14 #Mattisaux Baschet #Ishgardian #Elezen #Kora Arbreaux

[house-vexile]

 "So... he is angry at me for trying to do what he says. But then when I don't do what he says, he still gets angry. I can't win. I will never win..."

Phenalyn frowned, offering another shake of her head. "Why must there be winning and l-losing? Such things should not be a b-battlefield." The tall redhead deflated a bit, her shoulders dropping an ilm or so. "I-It is clear that the man takes his time healing. And he is t-terrible at healing. Absolutely horrible at it. His violence is unnecessary, y-yes. But you not staying the course in your choices...it cannot help him e-either. Had I been told to move on by my f-former husband, only to have him return and admit he still felt for me, I would n-never escape the s-spiral of pain that would have summoned."

"...I see." Kora said, looking a bit defeated. "I'm sorry to have troubled you with all of this. I see now that it was a huge mistake." Her head nodded very slowly. "He is your friend and I am, what? I don't even know. Apparently the woman who so -cruelly- broke not one but two of your friends' hearts, no?" She gulped down a lump in her throat. "I'll be on my way now. I have drinking to do."

The pale elezen sighed. "...Miss Kora," Phen attempted. "When there is no war to fight, why must you turn the sword on yourself?"

"...it will be his sword that does the work, not mine. I wonder what you'll say to defend him when that happens."

Phenalyn gathered her book and stood. "Perhaps I-I will say nothing at all, unless you place words within my mouth. D-do remember that I called you no cruel titles. You asked for my s-sight into the matter and I gave it to you."

"No, you only told me that I brought this on myself, but in more flowery words." Kora swept her hand off to the side. "But, no, don't let me keep you. And think nothing more on the matter."

"I wish you luck,” the Shroud woman returned, pressing her lips into a tight, thin line. Do choose water this eve. If anything, the clarity may g-grant you better choices than a drunken stupor."

                                                ____________________

((A brief exchange with @outoftheshade - Thank you!))

#ffxiv #ff14 #Final Fantasy XIV #Final Fantasy 14 #Roleplay excerpts #Phenalyn Talavaine #Kora Arbreaux #Thank you!

[the-hiltless-swordsman]

The Sword That Opens Wounds

And just like that Kora was gone again.  For a lady covered in bandages she was very keen to fling salt and the acidic juice of lemons.  As she walked away he got the most peculiar tingly sensation in his chest, like the first time a child plucks all the petals off a flower or cuts their chin while shaving.

His arm had been healing for a few days now, having had shelter to mend itself after his heroic stunt. Now it ached.  His skin, smooth and clean once more, needed to breath.

He held out his arm, like he was offering a gift to the vast ocean before him.  The wind carried the bandages off the swordsman’s arm, spiraling outward to the peaceful waters beyond.

“Hey handsome.”

Seven and a half hells, he felt hungover.  His other senses started working before his sight did.  It smelled like the forest, like mud and trees.  A chill crawled up one side of his body, and a warmth rolled over the other.  It must be morning, he thought, because the chill wasn’t too chilly, and the warmth wasn’t too warm.  Birds were calling in the new day outside.

Time to open his eyes. Eoiel’s stomach lurched.  It felt empty enough as he lay on his belly, but he knew better than to find out for certain.  Something smelled good, and warm and soft.  Okay, eye opening is happening now.

He was on the floor, flat on his belly.  There were the remnants of a fire glowing beside him, safely contained in a little stove. This must be Phenalyn’s room.  She must have carried his drunk ass all the way here.  What day was it?  Oh, that’s right.  It was the morning after the grindstone.

“It’s morning!  Time to wake up.  You smell horrible.”

The sour odor of digested alcohol and vomit was still crusted on his lip and chin.  Through a deliberate series of wiggles and exertions he worked himself up to a mostly sitting position.

“Rough night?”

“Yeah.”

“How have you been?”

“I am fine.”

“Don’t act so glum!  I’m really proud of you.”

“Thanks.”

Despite the groggy depression he woke into, he was brightening up a little bit.  He talked for a few minutes about a whole bunch of not much.  In his defense, what else was there to talk about in the morning?

“Can you just promise me something?”

“Certainly.”

“Don’t give up on her, okay?  I know she’s probably crazy, but you need to see this to the end.”

“Oh… alright.  For you.”

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me!  Now eat up.  Miss Phenalyn made breakfast.”

“It would seem she made too much for me to eat alone.  Would you, perhaps, like to share?”

#ffxiv #the-hiltless-swordsman #Eoiel Walker #Kora Arbreaux #The Bandages That Mend Them #The White Dragon #Longish piece of writing #Hope you enjoy :)

[yentotajaan]

Dusty Revelations

Ul’dah was a place where Yen’to found himself far too often for his liking. The only good thing about it was the cold nights, even if only as a contrast to the infuriatingly bright and scorching daytime.

Earlier that evening, Yen’to had decided to stroll through the streets, mostly out of boredom. He was not in the city on any serious business and had no real plans, aside from perhaps dropping in on Tariev. Having his hearing assaulted by the cacophony of the Quicksand tavern was certainly not on the plate, and he had no current desire to watch gladiator fights in the arena. So a walk it would be. Out of what could only be morbid curiosity, he made his way to the Pearl Lane thoroughfare. There was almost always a large amount of people loitering around, with the occasional mugging or fight to spice things up. Now that I think about it, is there not always a fight at the times I decide to stop by?

As Yen’to meandered up the street from the bazaar, he instantly recognized the fiery red hair practically glowing in the distance- Kora Arbreaux. What is she doing here? Oh, right... her company does have a headquarters near the city. Hm, looks like she is talking with someone. Kora was as surprised to see Yen’to as he was to see her. After they both explained the reasons behind their presence, she made it clear she was in the area often to mingle with friends, one of which was summarily introduced to Yen’to - a dark-haired male hyur. Alden... seems nice enough. Does not appear to have been flirting with her... good. I mean -- good so long as she would not have minded it, of course. 

Alden did not talk long, and soon excused himself to chat with a different group nearby, but was quickly replaced by another of Kora’s friends. A tall, snow-haired elezen appropriately named Froste. He was much more playful and outspoken than Alden, but not annoyingly so. Inadvertently, he was helpful in dragging some answers out of Kora about what she had been up to since Yen’to had last seen her - getting into trouble. Although she was still frustratingly vague. Damn... seems half her friends turn on her and want to kill her. A new scar as a ‘trophy’ for trying to do what she felt was right in helping someone in need. Trouble seems to find her yet she always blames herself for it. Yen’to could sympathize, as he had his own set of scars, although Kora protested that she did not lead a ‘fighting lifestyle’. She could call it whatever she liked, but the fundamentals of what she did differed little from his own profession. Perhaps the motives were different, but she still utilized her martial prowess for a living. Yet why is it so damn hard to get specifics out of her? I would have more luck trying to pull teeth out of a hungry goobbue without losing a hand. Hmph.

However, the conversation somehow shifted from combat scars to romance, largely spurred on by Froste. Yen’to felt his cheeks grow hot as Kora lamented the lack of romantic overtures sent her way. Various, longing thoughts started swirling in his head, making his eyes glaze over, and Kora must have noticed because she leaned in to peer at him curiously. Damn it... no.. think of something else - change the subject! Yen’to somehow managed to stammer the conversation into a different topic, but the attempt did not last long. 

Froste steered things back to flirting and relationships, and once again Yen’to found himself blushing and inevitably drawing attention to it. Romance was not something he was particularly familiar with. Suddenly at a loss for words, avoiding questions... gods, she must think I am crazy. The verbal dancing continued on for far longer than Yen’to would have liked, particularly since he felt like he had two left feet at the moment, and he desperately kept trying to divert topics to less self-conscious and thought provoking ones but Froste kept wrenching the rudder back towards embarrassing territory. Kora certainly appeared confused more than a few times. I swear he is doing this on purpose!

Finally, Froste executed his end play by backing away from the pair with a sly grin, stating he will leave the two alone to ‘become better friends’. Hmph, he is so smug - he knew exactly what he was doing! But, it’s not like being alone with her is a bad thing... or as alone as one can get on this street. Somehow, Yen’to was able to regain some composure and offer Kora a more genuinely friendly demeanor rather than the flustered mess from earlier. He felt more relaxed without the intervention of Froste, and their final few minutes of the evening was spent sharing easy smiles and light laughter. Yen’to had sailed from choppy waves to smooth waters, and eventually managed to make it at least a little clearer that he would be happy to go out of his way to see her just because he enjoyed her company. At least... I hope that is the impression I just gave her. She is not trying to punch me, at any rate.

Despite the cold of the air, Yen’to felt a pleasant warmth as he bade Kora a good night. Maybe there were other positive things about Ul’dah.

@outoftheshade

#rp #ffxiv #balmung #ul’dah #fun times #one day I will remember to move the cursor out of screenshots

[needlecatte]

L’nimuili Hena

THE BASICS ––– –

Age: 26

Race: Half-Seeker/Half Keeper

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Demisexual, heteromantic

Marital Status: Single

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE ––– –

Hair: Cobalt blue

Eyes: Amethyst purple

Height: 4′11″

Build: Soft in the middle with more toned arms and legs.

Distinguishing Marks: Some small scars on her hands and arms.

Common Accessories: Glasses, sewing supplies.

PERSONAL ––– –

Profession: Seamstress

Hobbies: Sewing, reading, taking walks, collecting small trinkets, healing (she heals people for free, and so she considers this a hobby), food.

Languages: Eorzean

Residence: The Quicksand

Birthplace: A ship!

Religion: Unsure

Patron Deity: Azyema

Fears: Being wrongly accused of something, heights.

RELATIONSHIPS ––– -

Spouse: None

Parents: MIA

Siblings: Unknown.

Other Relatives: Some cousins and an aunt in the L tribe.

Pets: None.

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

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION ––– –

Smoking Habit: None. Drugs: None. Alcohol: Occasionally.

RP HOOKS ––– –

(What a bench!) You might notice her sitting on the bench quite a lot in Ul’dah, either sewing, reading, or watching people. Yeah, she sure does sit there a lot. What’s up with that?

(Nil gil) People who frequent the Quicksand might often see Nimuili give different items to Momodi in lieu of gil in return for her staying there. Maybe you’re curious as to why. Maybe you want to know how to get in on that.

(Customer service) You might have seen some old, faded flyers for her sewing services, or you might simply have noticed all the sewing she does in public. An order might be made.

(Sharp tongue) Nimuili can be quite a dynamo when she think she’s being cheated in the marketplace, disrespected, or lied to. This might garner her some attention, whether it’s good or bad.

(Your idea here) I want to hear them!

CONTACT INFORMATION  ––– –

You can contact me here or message me in-game! (If you can’t reach me on L’nimuili, you’ll more likely be able to reach me on my main, Kora Arbreaux)

#keeper of the moon #seeker of the sun #miqo'te #balmung rp #crystal rp

[outoftheshade]

So keep your heart, ‘cause I already got one

#kora arbreaux #suvdi kharlu #cherise janvier

[outoftheshade]

Remembrance

Kora forces herself to remember things about a certain person, locked away by magic. It turns out to be not the best idea she’s had. (Playlist included at the bottom)

Warnings: Blood, mentions of violence and sex.

Kora sat cross-legged on the stone floor of her apartment.

She wore only a chemise with some tiny shorts beneath. She thought she should make herself comfortable for what was to come, but then she went and sat on the floor, the cold stone digging into her thighs. But she wasn’t getting back up yet. Not when she had prepared things for where she was. And if she died here on the floor, well… She’d die pretty. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for whoever found her. As bad.

Sheets of yellowed drawing paper were fanned out around her, some with singed edges, as if they were partially burnt, just to be drawn back out of the flames. All of them with the face of an elezen on them. An elezen man. On some he stared straight ahead. Others had side profiles of him. A couple you could just barely see his face, as if they were drawn as he laid in bed, turned away from the artist. 

Kora was the artist, but she couldn’t remember drawing any of this. Or the gold ring that sat near the drawings. How had she gotten it? Had he…? No, not yet. She already felt the pain at the edge of her mind, pushing against her face from the inside. She couldn’t move along the edge. She had to jump right in, as far as she could go.

She had to break this. She had to rip open the box in her mind that memories had been forcibly locked away in, no matter how much it hurt. No matter how much it ruined her. She had been ruined before, and she was still here. And she would continue to be here, no matter what that might mean.

The wooden box that she had kept these things in, shoved beneath her bed, sat nearby. She folded up a cloth that always kept in her pocket and dropped it inside, along with her flask of whiskey. The box was then pushed as far across the room as she could manage. No crutches. She’d crawl if that’s what it meant to deal with this properly.

Her hands reached out and she let them hover over the things laying before her. She thought too much about it, and then stopped thinking at all, letting her intuition lead her straight to a picture laying in the middle of the others. She snatched it up and held it up in front of her. And he was smiling back at her. It was a weak smile, that didn’t quite meet his eyes, but a smile all the same.

She let, or tried to let, memories flood back. Then the pressure was there, followed by a sharp pain shooting through her skull. And then the blood wetting the inside of her nose, causing her to sniffle to try and hold it back. She locked her gaze onto the picture and tried to push open the doors that were tightly locked in her mind. Push. Push. Push. More and more pain.

The pushing wasn’t seeming to work, though, even though it did cause her a good bit of pain. So she kicked. She kicked that door that kept her from those memories right back down. 

Her eyes went out of focus and then shut tightly, the feeling she felt reminiscent of her head bouncing off of a wall, nearly cracking her skull. She let out a low groan before clenching her teeth together, trying to distract herself from the pain and focus more on the memories that were slipping out at a river’s pace. 

And that river flowed by fast, and had very choppy waters. Fragments of memories ran through her mind in a deluge. Sights, feelings, smells, sounds. The sight of his tired eyes. The feeling of his large hands gripping her hips until it hurt, with her not minding. The smell of his skin while it was glistening with sweat. The sound of his husky laughter as he fell off of her.

A shudder ran through her as she brought a hand to her nose, sniffling again. But that didn’t do much to slow the trickling blood, or the thoughts in her head. She couldn’t stop, though. She had to keep this up.

Planting a hand against the floor to try and find at least some of her bearings, her eyes looking over the other drawings as she put the one in her hand off to the side. The pads of her fingers ran over them until she stopped on the one she was dreading: a drawing of the elezen scowling down at her, by the angle of his head.

She brushed her fingers over it once before quickly pinching the paper between her finger and thumb, raising it up in front of her face. She made herself focus on the face, on the foreboding expression on it. And then she kicked. And then kicked again.

These memories were accompanied by a deep discomfort, the feeling that she shouldn’t be going this way. But she was, because she had to.

Things began flashing in her mind. His face scowling at her from “different” angles. From above as she lingered near him, both of them standing. Him standing near… with his hands wrapped around her neck, forcing her back against a tree as he squeezed. Him from just a bit above as he sat near her and drank, and drank, and scowled. Him pushing her and her unable to stop it as she fell off the end of a dock and into the blue waters below, and him holding her under with a colder expression than his normal, everyday scowl.

It all hurt her more than she could ever think.

She whimpered at first at the physical and mental agony, the hurt, the anger. The cracking, sharp pain that bounced around inside her head. The blood that flowed from her nose and dripped down onto her chest. She let out a growl and reached up to grip her head, fighting the urge to give up then and there. She pushed herself to keep going.

The woman, trembling like a leaf, took each and every thing before her into her hand. The gold ring showed another side of him. It wasn’t from him, oh no. It was from an au ra who hoped to “save” her from him. And that was a long chain of memories of how he looked at them, how he thought of them, how disgusted he was of them. How he yelled at her about sparring with one who just so happened to pick her up and carry her in hopes of throwing her in the ocean. How she somehow liked that and how wrong she was for it.

Feeling like her skull was about to burst, she kept going, picking up one paper after another, trying to hurry through this before she just keeled over and died.

So many memories. So much pain in it all. Why was she doing this again? Why? What was this going to help?

There he was, the first time they met, asking how much she cost of all things. There they were, sniping back and forth at each other for moons on end for no reason, not admitting they enjoyed it. There she was stabbing him for threatening her. There she was, stabbing him again, but healing him just enough so he wouldn’t die. There he was, saving her life, twice. There they were, dancing. There they were, limbs intertwined, his hand at her throat again. There he was, too many times, saying he never wanted to see her again. But he did. They kept seeing each other. No matter how much he doubted her and everything else. No matter how much she wanted things he’d never give her.

Cut hand. Stinging cheek. Tingling thighs. Bleeding leg. Red throat. Held hand. Tired eyes. Her drinking to stop his drinking. It didn’t work. It never worked. None of it worked, no matter how hard she tried.

She let out a strangled scream and curled inward on herself, sobbing uncontrollably and wishing it’d just stop. But it wasn’t going to. She knew this was going to happen, to some extent, but she insisted on it. Why? Why? Why was she so stupid? She pressed her hand to her nose to try and stymie the bleeding, but it didn’t help. It only stained her hand scarlet.

So instead pushed herself up to her feet and swayed like a drunk person, staggering over to the door to her bedroom. Feeling herself falling forward, she pressed her hand against the door, just for it to swing open as her hand smeared blood across it. With nothing to anchor her, she fell face-first against the hard floor.

And then the darkness took her.

Playlist

#kora arbreaux #mattisaux baschet #writings

[apowersodivine]

While You Were Looking The Other Way (#Ffxivwrite2020 Day 22: Argy-bargy)

She couldn't believe it.

Through complete coincidence she had retrieved some memories of him-- or things that led to what might be memories. There was no way to tell the difference. She could only guess. Assume. And that's exactly what she was doing. 

The half-elezen could see those cold blue eyes in her mind's eye. Could see them looking down upon her, through lapping ocean water. Could see them as he ordered her death. Could see them crinkling in amusement as she drunk herself into a stupor. Yes, he had a hand in all of this, she was sure.

And so she found herself, imagining how he'd look as she whirled and slashed and stabbed at him furiously, as she whirled and flashed and stabbed through and at thin air. Would he have that smug expression? Would he fend her off easily? Would it end up being another argument.

No, no, no. That wouldn't do. She had to teach him the lesson she failed to teach him last time. She had to get even stronger, even faster, even more able to read his movements that might have once been familiar.

She would not rest until he was beaten and laying on the ground, his pride and maybe even a bone or two broken.

(For @outoftheshade )

#ffxivwrite2020 #ffxivwrite2020 day 22 #kora arbreaux #writings

[apowersodivine]

#FFXIVWrite2021 Day 6//Wanted, Dead or Alive

Kora was cleaning up her apartment when she found an old sketchbook of hers. A sketchbook she hadn’t looked through in cycles.

She opened it up to find two different, but also the very same, sketches of faces side by side: A drawing she did from descriptions of a person for a wanted poster, and a drawing of what the person actually ended up looking like when she caught a glimpse of them.

It still cracked her up how different one could look from the other. A much bigger nose than described here. Baldness when long, lustrous was hair wad described (most likely due to a wig, or so she hoped) there. Huge tattoos where none were remembered.

It was funny how different people saw far different things, while looking at the same person.

(For my character @ koraa.carrd.co)

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite2021 day 6 #kora arbreaux #writing #writings

[apowersodivine]

Fragile Strength (#FfxivWrite Day 6: Extra Credit!)

Cherise was making her way quickly down Pearl Lane when she spotted a familiar shade of red. Red hair, to be exact. It was Kora.

She moved over quietly to stand before the other woman, a sheepish expression on her face. "H-hello, Miss Kora. It's so nice to see you!"

Kora glanced up at the strawberry blonde, her eyes refocusing to get a good look at her face. "Oh, Cherise. It's, ah... been a while."

"Yes, it has been. How have you been?," Cherise asked Kora, actually seeming to care about the answer.

"Oh, you know...," Kora said vaguely, motioning around with one hand. "How about you? Has he bothered you again?"

"Yes, actually. But, ah... I am doing something about that." She motioned to the chakrams she wore at her hips, which made Kora's blue-green eyes widen considerably.

"What? Really? You..." Kora seemed to be speechless for a moment, staring at the round weapons before finally forcing her eyes back up to Cherise's face. "Are you planning on going after him? I sincerely hope not."

It was Cherise's turn to widen her eyes this time, soon holding up her hands as she shook her head. "No, no! Not at all! It's for self-defense, that's all!"

"...are you sure you can do even that?" The taller of the two asked, eyeing the dancer up and down.

"What do you mean, can I? I might have to. I won't have a choice."

"...and you might just make him more angry in the process."

Cherise stood there, dumbfounded. Why was Kora saying these things?

"But... but what am I supposed to do? I can't avoid him forever? And I thought... I thought you said I should defend myself? That you knew this from experience? I know I'm not as strong as you, but I have to do something."

Kora sighed, reaching up to rub at her face. "Listen. I'm not as strong as you think. I drink until I pass out just about every night. I'm a sad sack. And even I couldn't beat him, so you..." She regarded Cherise again, a look of defeat on her face. "Maybe you should just lay low for a while.”

With Cherise standing there, staring at Kora, the fiery haired woman took her chance to pat her on the shoulder and walk off in a zig-zag pattern, and without another word.

Cherise continued to stand there for a while, apprehensive and staring at the wall blankly, just as Kora had been doing when she first approached her. If Kora thought that way about herself, with how strong she was, then how should Cherise feel?

She wasn't feeling too sure of herself anymore, that was for sure.

(For my characters @outoftheshade and @rime-orreason)

#ffxivwrite2020 #ffxivwrite2020 day 6 #cherise janvier #kora arbreaux #writings

[apowersodivine]

I Sure Don’t Mind A Change (#FfxivWrite2020 Day 4: Clinch)

There were quite a few beach-goers that passed by the odd, scarred redhead sitting in the sand of Costa del Sol, but the most they did was mutter to each other about just what she was doing.

And what she was doing was sitting in the sand, in a bikini, rum in hand while she stared at a palm tree with quite a few throwing knives jutting out from it. Each and every one was exactly where she had aimed for it to be, too. She hated that.

With a groan she pushed herself up, her half-dried ponytail whipping around in the breeze, and sand sticking to her behind. She half-stumbled over to the tree, ripping each and every knife from it and clumsily carrying them back over to the imprint in the sand where she had been sitting, plopping right back down.

The knives were soon set carefully before her. She raised the bottle of rum to her lips, taking a messy gulp from it as her eyes clouded over. She needed a challenge. Something new. Everything was so stagnant that it was like walking through quicksand getting out of bed in the morning.

Reaching out, she ran a finger across each knife, like a child counting her toys, as she took another swig of rum. The bottle was soon carelessly dropped and a deep breath was taken as she channeled just a bit of aether into her hand.  

With a quick movement, she picked up the knives one by one, and also one by one threw them at the tree at a rapid pace, the thudding sounds they made blurring one into the next. She shook her hand out after she was done, then looked up at her work.

The knives were in a not-so-straight line, running down the poor tree. Not perfect. Yes! Not perfect. This was something she could work on. Something to aspire to.

It'd probably hit her how sad it was that knife-throwing was all she had to look forward to, but hey. It was something.

(For my character @outoftheshade)

#ffxivwrite2020 #ffxivwrite2020 day 4 #kora arbreaux #writings

[apowersodivine]

Figures From The Past Stand Tall (#FfxivWrite2020 Day 7: Nonagenarian)

When Kora arrived at her father's home in Ishgard, his maid informed her that he was taking his afternoon nap. The dark-haired hyur asked if she should wake him, but Kora simply shook her head. No, no. She'd just look around a bit until he was rested up. She had never really wandered around the whole of the stone house before, after all.

She found herself opening up a creaking door to look in on a bedroom that looked like it hadn't been slept in in a very long while. The walls were covered with floral paper of a muted red. It must have been her half-sister's room at some point. Sighing, and not wanting to waste more time in such a place, she walked out and gently shut the door behind her.

She did much the same with the other bedrooms, not finding much of interest in any of them. Nor in the bathing room, or the laundry room.

But then she found herself looking back down the hallway, to where it turned to the left. And she noticed the paintings and sculpted busts she hadn't before. And so, Kora decided to go to the dead-end of the hall and make her way back the way she came.

Once she was at the end, she turned on her heel and very slowly made her way back, eyeing the works of art one by one. Stone and painted faces stared back at her, some eerily familiar, others not familiar at all. All stoic-faced, as if smiling was a sin.

Her elezen ancestors.

She found herself walking very slowly, though the faces began to blur into each other. None of them looked like her, and none of them looked like her.

But that didn't bother her as much as the thought of meeting them, somehow. What would they think of her, the drunk, violent half-blood? And what would they think of her father for having a hand in her creation?

The half-elezen found herself scowling and hurrying on down the hall. She didn't want to see anything more of the faces of the dead and gone. She had enough of those floating in her head as it was.

She'd just sit outside her father's room and wait for him to awaken.

(Written for @outoftheshade)

#ffxivwrite2020 #ffxivwrite2020 day 7 #kora arbreaux #writings

[apowersodivine]

Some Are Gone, And Some Remain (#Ffxivwrite2020 Day 14: Part)

It was another sleepless night. Kora found herself curled up on her couch, sipping at a cup of lavender tea, and flipping through various books she got off of her shelves.

Not only was she restless, but she was bored as hell, too.

Near the bottom of the pile was a sketchbook with bent edges; a sketchbook very thoroughly used. She opened it up to the first page, and then to the next, very slowly, carefully studying each face drawn within. Some familiar, some owned by people she simply saw walking by.

The familiar faces were the ones that made her feel melancholy, though. There were so many faces within the pages that she no longer saw. Where did they go? Were they doing well? Were they busy, or did they simply stop coming around?

Well, that wasn't helping her mood. She shut the book and threw it down beside her on the couch, soon leaning back and staring up at the ceiling. She needed more faces to fill even more books. Faces that she would see often. Faces whose expressions she could collect like treasures. Faces that wouldn't drift away.

#ffxivwrite2020 #ffxivwrite2020 day 14 #writings #kora arbreaux

[apowersodivine]

I Was Drinking Everything I Could Get My Hands On/I Pretend I Have Fun (#FfxivWrite2020 Day 9: Lush)

Kora woke up on the floor beside her couch. She raised her head, messy hair and all, and looked around, a bit confused, and sore. What happened here? How had she ended up on the floor of all places?

Pressing her hands against the rug, the only thing between her and the stone floor, she pushed herself up onto her knees. The redhead blew hair away from her face with a puffing breath and she rubbed sleep from her eyes. And then she began looking around, and then down at the collection of bottles that had been gathered, or more like dropped, around the sitting area.

A groan escaped her as she pushed bottles away from her, the throbbing in her head becoming worse at the mere clinking of glass against glass, her face twisting into a wince. She cursed and grabbed onto the cushions of the couch to pull herself up. The room spun a bit, even after she closed her eyes, but thankfully stopped after only a few moments.

She stumbled through a door and into her bathroom, wasting no time in turning the sink on to splash her face with cold water and scrub it clean, rivulets of gray water running down from her raccoon eyes.

Her hair was smoothed back with damp hands as she looked at herself in the mirror. Gods, was she a mess. And she could finally remember what happened, too. She had drank an entire bottle of wine, practically gulping it down, while sitting on the couch. And then darkness. She must have passed out and somehow rolled off the couch sometime in the night or morning.

But she didn't even feel it. That fact made her smirk bitterly at herself.

You alcoholic. You damn alcoholic. What are you doing? Why can't you just be normal? Why do you have to drown yourself in this shite to sleep? Gods dammit...

Some people would say she should talk to herself in a nicer way. But what was a nicer word for what she was? For what she was doing to herself? She knew what it was, but it wasn't the word for her. What she was doing wasn't nice. Wasn't fun.

She needed help.

(Written for @outoftheshade)

#ffxivwrite2020 #ffxivwrite2020 day 9 #kora arbreaux #writings