wanderingviktus

[wanderingviktus]

Off the Hook

Tw: Blood, Graphic Description of Wounds, Mild Violence ---

Viktus fiddles with knots to each string of his lyre, eyes focused on the instrument as he frowns in frustration. It was an arid day in the streets of the Sapphire Exchange. Merchants peddled their goods, their cries mixing altogether as he passed by the stalls. His clothing felt far too itchy in this weather, scratching his skin enough to burn it to sensitivity. He mutters a curse under his breath as the string snaps earning a cut along his fingers but he’s not unused to such things. Sighing he quickly undoes the string, ignoring the drops of blood that were following his hasty steps. He draws a fresh string from his pack, quickly sliding it into the holes of the worn wood. The motion is so familiar, he hardly put a thought as he tightens the string into place. He winces lightly, reminded at the wound upon his finger to which he should attend to.

The elezen takes a roll of thin bandages, wrapping it around the injured digit. His wound bleeds through his makeshift mend but this will have to do. He needed some gil for another night to stay in the Quicksands. Twelve knows he’s struggling in the major city, trapped around the sea of sand sparse greenery. The duskwight misses the presence of tall trees but this was his choice, he wants to travel around and explore to jog the absence of his memories. He flips his hand around, narrowing his gaze at the paper-thin lines that etched onto his skin. White against the gray hue, it suddenly took root over him since the night he waded through the snowcapped hills of Coerthas.

With another resolute sigh, he tugs the bandage tight with his teeth before he takes his spot. Mismatched eyes focused on the trickle of passersby before he closes his eyes and draws the string of the instrument. He purses his lips before he sings out a soft song, a little unsure if it was worth bringing his words up to volume.

He opens his eyes, finding a few civilians listening; some others holding a pensive look on their face. He pays them no mind, continuing with the course of his songs. Time trickles by, similar to yesterday though the sparse coin that settled into the bottom of his pack was hardly reassuring. He does a few more notes, a few more songs and no sooner does the sun dye to ink blue. He bows, as he usually does, following a wave of applauses.

Much of the onlookers leave with a grumble, their steps fading into nothing as Viktus plucks his pack from the ground. It’s heavier than earlier, though not too reassuring. Hopefully it’ll be enough for the night. A few hasty steps fills his ears and his hold on the pack slackens, the object falls to the ground with a thud.

“H-huh?”

He feels a sharp pain upon his side. Nimble fingers keep the lyre tight to his body as an individual snatches his pack, before scurrying off into the darkening alleyways.

Viktus withdraws his hand, wet sticky blood painted his palm. He opens his mouth, before closing; swallowing dryly as he leans heavily against a wall.

Twelve, what happened?

He clamps his hand to his side, wincing as he makes his way along the walls leaving a morbid trail behind. He coughs, tasting the iron as it decorates his tongue. His gaze is heavy as he paces forward, weakly he croaks a cry of help but no one listens.

Of course, who was he in Ul'dah? He was an unknown, a man with no coin to his name. He pulls his lyre closer to his body, chucking to whatever god was hearing his thoughts to let him live through the night.

He crumples forward, body heaving as he feels the blood slip through his fingers and onto the dirt-caked pavement, he coughs a few more times. He pushes himself up with his arm, feeling the burn of bile before he empties it onto the ground.

It burns his throat, and it hurts.

He staggers back to his feet, leaning against the wall as he takes a few labored breaths. He wonders if there's any semblance of aid he can ask in this place.

He grimly chuckles, so much for wandering.

#ffxiv oc #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv_viktus #ffxiv #elezen

[wanderingviktus]

Red like roses fills my dreams, and brings me to the place you rest.

#ffxiv #ffxiv screenshots #elezen #ffxiv_viktus

[wanderingviktus]

Day 3: Farewell

CW: SHB Spoilers

Viktus was never good at farewells.

“Promise me you’ll take me on your next adventure. A journey. Together. That’s all I ask.”

The moment the crystal spread along his skin, the moment his words started to break apart did Viktus realize he was crying.

Warm, errant tears staining his skin as holds the crystal vessel containing the remainder of G’raha’s memories. Once more, once more another individual he cares far too much is gone. The smiles on his lips falters as the rush of tears blur the crystalized visage in front of him.

He staggers momentarily, of fatigue and of sadness. This was not the end but why does it feel as if a lance had shot through him. He brings the vessel closer to himself, realizing the sounds of footsteps behind him. In a rush, he wipes his wet face with the sleeves of his, hoping to abate the tearmarks but ah, the tears continued to fall.

Blurring everything but the blueness of the crystal that stood in front of him.

#ffxiv oc #ff14 #ffxiv_viktus #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv rp #FFxivWrite2023 #FFxivWrite #ffxiv #ffxiv writing #graha tia #shadowbringers

[wanderingviktus]

FFXIVWrite 2023

Day 1: Envoy

Day 2: Bark

Day 3: Farwell (Free Day)

Day 4: Off the Hook

Day 5: Barbarous

Day 6: Ring

Day 7: Noisome

Day 8: Shed

Day 9: Fair

Day 10: (Free Day)

Day 11: Once Bitten, Twice Shy

Day 12: Dowdy

Day 13: Check

Day 14: Clear

Day 15: Portentous

Day 16: Jerk

Day 17: (you pick!)

Day 18: A Fish Out of Water

Day 19: Weal

Day 20: Hamper

Day 21: Grave

Day 22: Fulsome

Day 23: Suit

Day 24: (you pick!)

Day 25: Call it a Day

Day 26: Last

Day 27: Sole

Day 28: Blunt

Day 29: Contravention

Day 30: Amity

#FFxivWrite2023 #FFxivWrite

[wanderingviktus]

Prompt#2: Bark

CW: Blood

Characters: Viktus and Nathaniel (X@nathe_ffxiv)

---

When the night rolled in, a silent figure was left to wander in the empty halls of the monastery. The cacophony of voices in prayer filled the night air, the rhythm of their breaths; their words, the meaning of each verse sat with the wind. The heavy smell of incense on my nose, making him cough as booted feet padded along the polished floorboards.

Tonight, the moon was dyed crimson. The clouds parted to give way to bloodied moonlight. Tonight, the prayers were much louder, bouncing against the walls hoping a god could hear their please. It's a foolish endeavor, one that he knew all too well, but he supposes a sliver of hope was good.

Once in a while.

Nathaniel sighs as he rounds another corner. The complicated floorplan of this building was nothing less than infuriating. Had it not been at his sister's behest, he wouldn't be here. He brought his gaze to the red moon, an eerie sight given the harrowing season was coming closer.

He brings a hand to massage his temples, a headache slowly blooming. It was still far too soon for the nobleman to take his rest.

The clack of his booted steps replaced the hymn of prayers. The farther he walked into the monastery, the sounds started to fade. Even now, his breathing sounded too loud upon his ears. His breath starts to condense at each exhale, shivers running down his spine. The cold summons goosebumps despite the layers of clothing covering his skin.

"They weren't lying when they said they kept him in the cold." He murmured to himself, a comfort; a counter to the silence that was suffocating him as he descended the dimly lit stone pathway.

The condensation of his breath becomes more apparent, lips drying at the cold. Nathaniel pauses, the last few sounds of his steps echoing within the dimly lit dungeon. It was quiet, far too quiet for his liking.

He drags a hand to his hair, easing the tension that was coiling beneath. Was it the eerie atmosphere or the cold? The brunette could not put a name to it.

"You took your time." A voice murmurs, breaking the male's train of thought.

He chuckled, finding his bearings once more as he covered the scant few yalms from the origin of the voice. His amber gaze settled on a familiar face, though this one looked far too pale and pained from his usual self.

"When I said to go out some times, I did not mean find yourself locked within a dungeon." Nathaniel scoffs, shaking his head as he steps further. His gaze peering through the metals that kept Viktus under lock and key.

"Hah. Of course, I hardly expected such kinder words when your best friend comes visiting you in a dungeon." Viktus chuckled weakly. His face turned away to look away from Nathe. This moment gave the brunette the room to study his friend in better detail, albeit despite the lack of good lighting.

He was disheveled, so unlike the only son of the Balephrym household. Left in a bloodied shorn top, the frills so unkempt. Dirt and blood decorated his clothing and skin, so unlike the Viktus that he knew. Nathaniel had to take a closer look, grasping the metal bars to peer further into the dimness of the cell.

"You shouldn't come closer if I were you." Viktus' gruff voice made him pause, his gaze focusing on the steely leer that his childhood friend was giving him. It was so unusual for Viktus to use such a tone, given he was more relaxed towards him.

Nathaniel released his grip on the bars, standing to full height. Left with a confused look on his face, Viktus pushed himself up to stand.

The red moonlight spilling from the bars above his head. The familiar tall frame in front of him hunches forward, ashen skin decorated with dried crimson flecks. It certainly looked more gray than usual.

He wrapped his long fingers around the bars, replacing Nathe's place. Viktus frowns, wincing lightly at the onslaught of moonlight, "What a terrible night to go out."

"Viktus, what happened to you?" The surprise in Nathaniel's voice summoned a morose smile from his friend. Viktus looks at him through the bars, eyes blood red and lips decorated with dried blood. He leaned against the bars letting one arm hang beyond the space of his cell. Though he's clearly not the same Viktus, he'd known, the restraint written all over his face. Those same crimson eyes were focused on him, like a predator to a prey, but Viktus reeled himself in. Something was different.

Nathaniel blinked, surely, he'd seen fangs prickle the skin of Viktus' lips?

"You saw me, you can leave me here." Viktus huffed, looking elsewhere as if ashamed. Despite his gaze focused elsewhere, his eyes glanced at the brunette far too often.

"Yes indeed, though I am confused why you're locked down here."

Viktus sighed, bringing a hand up to push the skin off his cheek aside, showcasing a fang. It did little to ease the shiver that rolled down Nathaniel's spine, the dried blood on his skin accentuated with his movement, "Surely you'd know what this would mean."

"Teeth?"

Viktus shook his head, leaving it to Nathe to jest; but he was in no mood for comedy. He brought a hand through his hair, raking his nails along his scalp, pushing a few errant bangs off. "I've been turned." The word struck fear deep within the listener, eyes wide with surprise, shock, and fear. It was odd for a season warrior to fall prey to such vampires, "What happened?"

"I barely remember. Though I was close to death and when I came to, I had feasted upon the young scholars that had wandered too close to where I was found." There was sorrow in his words, the frown delivering Viktus' regret. "It was not my intention."

"Of course, it's not like you to rely on others but killing them sounds over the top." Nathaniel shook his head.

A bark of laughter escaped the caged elezen. His eyes shone crimson, rivaling the bloody moonlight, "Of course, ah but I'm left here for the mean time." The taller male leaned against the stone wall, though his gaze was heavy upon his guest.

"But you've fed."

"And yet I still hunger."

Nathaniel swallowed thickly, and he looked at his friend. Viktus narrowed his eyes, "No. Not you. I've already taken the lives of the innocent; come morning I'll walk to my death."

"Hmm." Nathaniel pursed his lips, crossing his arms over his chest to ponder. "Is death the only way out?" "No." Viktus replied quickly; but the frown on his face spoke leagues of his disapproval.

"Then what is the other way that they'd let you out?"

He shut his mouth, pursed his lips, and a glare was thrown at his visitor. A minute pass, now two. A third one made him sigh, relented to his friend's query, "If the one who takes me out of here will look after my, hmm, hunger."

"So, that would mean I'd feed you, my blood."

The mention of blood summoned an errant tongue to slide along pale lips. Viktus quickly composed himself, sighing, "Yes."

He brought his hand up, pulling the glove with little finesse. With a deadpan look, he raised his hand up. A few ilms into the cell, but the sight summoned Viktus to him, clammy hands wrapped around his warm palm. He noticed the way Viktus' eyes lightened, but he could see his restraint.

"Well, I'm taking you out. Be quick with it."

"You don't understand what you're doing."

"I do."

"You'll be bound to provide me blood from now on." Viktus spoke, his eyes focused on the floor, but his fingers pressed onto Nathaniel's skin. Nails making crescents on the soft flesh of his palm. "And who knows how far I could go just, feeding, from you."

Tired of the older male's hesitation, he pressed his thumb through Viktus' lips; pressed his tongue down to shut him up. He could feel the distinct sharpness of his fangs, pricking lightly on his skin, "Where's the Viktus who liked to bark? Come on, surely you can show me your bite matches your bark."

Viktus' eyes widened before the familiar dawned upon them. He ran his tongue along the soft pad of Nathaniel's thumb, relishing the taste before pulling back to gently bite onto the offered digit.

The heady rush of warm blood washed his tongue, and he drinks, eager, joyous. His eyes shut as he cradled what the noble offered.

Despite the proposition, Viktus took only what he considered few. He took a few errant licks as he released Nathe's finger. The male stepped away to wipe the trickle of blood from the side of his lips.

"You're a fool aren't you." He couldn't help but curse, chuckling at the sentiment.

"I'm surprised you didn't know that from the beginning." Nathaniel chided in return, wrapping the grate of the door and pulling it open. "Come on let's get out of this wretched place, lest you want to take this cell as your new home."

"I'll have to pass. The incense is making my nose itch." Viktus murmured as he paced to his side.

The duo left a peal of laughter to bounce across the stone-cold walls, smeared with a few droplets of blood in their wake.

#ffxiv oc #ff14 #ffxiv_viktus #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv rp #FFxivWrite2023 #FFxivWrite #ffxiv #ffxiv writing

[wanderingviktus]

Prompt#1: Envoy

Author’s Notes: This is an AU where Viktus breaks under the heavy expectations of a hero.

Characters: FFXIV WoL, Fandaniel

---

The glass shatters at it falls to the ground, wine splattering on stone floors. Viktus rises from his seat, the moniker slipping from another’s lips.

“Warrior of Light”

His lips purse as he takes a few steps forward, eyes sweeping at the crowd in front of him. His mismatched eyes curling up in glee, as each step forward warrants a step back from his audience. The heavy clink of armor bounces against the walls, cold, unbidden.

Viktus pauses in his march, the sweep of his cape stopping just mere inches from his heels.

“Why do you look so afraid? Aren’t you happy to finally see your warrior of light alive?” His voice booms against the silence, making the onlookers shudder in fear. The rush of magic in the air tingles his skin and he’s quick to summon a barrier at the lightning aimed at him.

The duskwight turns to the spellcaster, a nameless hyur with fear filled eyes. He makes his way towards them, the crowd shrieking away in fear. They rush to the doorway, barred from the outside, clammy hands pounding. They cried to escape, shrieking, crying, why were they here.

The assailant stands frozen in fear, their eyes widening as whimpers escaped their lips. Viktus easily towers the individual, his height casting shadows all over their face. He leans down, wrapping his gloved hand around the hyur’s wrist, guiding their shorter arm towards his head. He had to bow further, letting the shaking fingers pressed against his forehead, “Here. Does this make it easier for you?”

He releases the hyur’s wrist, chuckling when it falls limp back to their side. “Oh? What happened to your earlier bravado?” He grins, pressing his hand to the hyur’s shoulder, patting it. Watching them crumble at the motion, cowering as a heap in front of him.

“Ah, Viktus. When I told you to wreak havoc, I didn’t expect you’d take your time.” A new voice chimes in, making the elezen turn around. Clad in ragged mauve robes, the familiar face of the deceased Asahi sas Brutus greets him, perched in the open window. Moonlight spills upon the smaller form but Viktus already knew who this was.

“Fandaniel, how surprising to find you here in Ishgard.” The former noble notes, his body shifting to pace back to the Ascian.

Fandaniel shakes his head, a soft chuckle bubbling from his lips, “When you mentioned you wanted to be an envoy, I didn’t expect you’d take your time.”

“Ah, but where’s the fun in rushing things?” Viktus stops in front of the smaller male, the moon’s shine making the bloodied metal strapped upon his back glisten. Fandaniel frowns at his appearance but makes no comment about it.

“Indeed, but you’re taking things very slowly.” Perching his chin upon his palm, Fandaniel shifts his gaze to the other people present. “Then again, we’re here to end everything. A little fun is good at times.”

Viktus grins, his eyes glinting with mirth, “Good thing we’re finally on the same page.”

#ffxiv oc #ff14 #ffxiv_viktus #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv rp #FFxivWrite2023 #FFxivWrite #ffxiv #ffxiv writing #fandaniel

[wanderingviktus]

FFxiv 30 Day Writing Challenge SEPTEMBER 1st - 30th, 2023

Welcome to YEAR 7 of our annual FFxiv 30 Day Writing Challenge, folks!

Last year we had 11,165 total entries! Which brings us to a total of 42,947 unique written entries over the last 6 years. That is just incredible! And something that I think that we should be super proud of as a creative fan community.

Whether you're new to the FFxivWrite community or a 6-year writing challenge veteran, if you'd like to give perfectionism in your creative writing process a swift kick in the butt, then this challenge was designed for you!

More info is below the cut~

Here’s the gist:

Runs from September 1st - 30th, 2023. During that timeframe:

Visit sea-wolf-coast-to-coast​ once a day at 12:00pm (noon) PDT for the prompt of the day. Convert to your timezone accordingly. All prompts will be one word or brief phrase that you can interpret however you please.

You have 24 hours to write something for that prompt.

Submit the link to your entry post via this Google Form: https://forms.gle/ixGUFKnYqKLz64Cw5

There are no length or skill requirements (short & sweet is fine!).

There will be no 24-hour deadlines for the first week, September 1st - 7th. The deadline will go into effect on September 8th at 11:59am PDT.

Makeup/extra credit days every Sunday.

Every entry posted within its 24-hour deadline will count toward a participation prize raffle at the end.

You can join any time with any prompt #! There’s no need for latecomers to start with prompt #1. Picking up with the most recent prompt is A OK.

If you’re an artist and you would like to volunteer to do a simple black & white illustration as a participation prize at the end of this challenge, you can volunteer here!

RULES & MORE INFO can be found here: https://ffxiv-write.carrd.co/

(( banner art - by @dantinmikannes ))

Rules & Info || Prompt List || #FFxivWrite2023 || kofi

[wanderingviktus]

The languid movement of his body as he rises from the bed of blades, jagged edges tearing through cloth and flesh. He cares not as blood trickles down his limbs like medals for his survival but his eyes are hollow, broken. He doesn’t see the people in front of him, nor does he notice the heavy trail of his bloodied blade behind him.

The shouts of the men fall upon deaf ears as he paces forward, unseeing, confused. His mind is numb, his heart more so.

The taste of ash and iron heavy on his tongue as purses his lips, trying to mouth the names of the faces that decorated the earth beside his legs. His gaze flits from one lifeless body to the other, the warmth long gone as the pallor of their skin made grey in death.

Die.

Die.

Die.

The word echoes in the hollow chambers of his mind as he pushes his sins from his train of thoughts. Each letter bounces upon the bodies plaguing his memories, the very stench of death upon his nose. How could he ever run away from it.

--

The absence of his left eye hardly hindered his movements though the definite sway in his steps was the distinct turnabout of a freshly concluded battle.

“General.”

He pauses, his foots sinking into bloodied earth. His lone eye finding the source of the voice, a smug looking prince. Dressed in such garish colors, ochre, and gold, speaking of his status. He was seated so comfortably upon a palanquin, not an inch of his being touching the earth beneath as men kept him afloat.

“Finally. I’ve been calling you far too many times. Tell me, has the war been won?”

He narrows his eye, taking a shuddering breath as he slowly looks behind him. Yichen scours the death-kissed earth, birds, carrion, blood, and war supplies littered the field. His men dead upon his feet, his enemies slain, and the soil slaked with their life’s essence.

And this fool asks if they won.

He swings his sword in a wide arc, the blade’s tip barely grazes the prince’s neck but the intimidation held its worth. The young hyur scampers backward, falling off his seat and unto the muddied ground. He doesn’t understand why the soiled state of expensive silk brings a manic smile on his face.

He was tired. No.

Exhausted, fatigued more so. But the heavy weight of his body was a deterrent to the murderous glint in Yichen's eyes.

#ffxiv oc #ff14 #ffxiv_viktus #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv rp

[wanderingviktus]

I suppose it's time to revive this blog. With my current dry spell with RP, I might as well try to write some semblance of character lore.

[wanderingviktus]

Reblog if your an FFXIV blog!

Help the lost Twitter spirits find us all.

[wanderingviktus]

Come Home

(Song accompaniment; this one has the English translation to the Japanese song)

---

They say that soulmates come once in your life.

Or so I have been told. The notion of having your life bound to another? Sounds like an easy cause for your own demise. I’ve lived my life alone, why should it change? To grow within the constricting walls of worship, to be called a sage that foretells the comings and goings in this world. How is it so that I never saw you walk into my life before today? With your swagger and your sharp tongue, you were one to turn heads with your boisterous laughter and yet you sought my side. Silent, ever sardonic but you captured my gaze, ever so often asking why else would I look away from you?

I laughed, for the first time in my life.

The sound I’d forgotten as I was raised void of emotions. A sage dare not trifle with such earthly things, they said. That I should not be allowed to even want, everything was provided. Funny, that I am not allowed to want. If I desire nothing, what was the purpose of living? You asked me. Even now I don’t know the answer myself. I seek, and seek, never truly finding the right words. Perhaps I never will.

How is it so that you are just what I needed, like water to a parched throat? Like words to a song? The balm to wounds, we both know the world can never see. And you always wrapped your arms around me, knowing it was what I need the most.

For a warrior, you’re so gentle. Odd for a vagabond, meticulous in his care and ever eager to soothe me. To calm my nerves as the magic surges through my body, your calloused hands kept me grounded; kept me focused. You sought me even on the deadest of nights when the nightmares come to prey upon my mind, telling me of your tales, or the far places that you wished we could visit.

And don’t get me started with that grating voice of yours. Always marching to my quarters to wake me up, sometimes pulling on the sheets to startle me awake. It works, damn you.

So then, why, why do you have to leave me so soon? Why do the tears not stop, why does my hand keep shaking as I reach out to you? Why do you feel so cold? Why aren’t you moving? Please, tell me, why?

Was I too late? Was it because of me? I don’t know. I don’t know. I DON’T KNOW.

Even as the dirt soiled my clothing, the crimson splotches on pristine white, how is it you’re here but not? What must I do, what must I pray for? How much more does my voice have to scream to reach you?

Has all my praying been for naught? Why is it when I ask, I never receive? Why are my prayers unanswered when all this time I’ve devoted to praying for others, for their salvation? Why not me? Oh, the gods must laugh at me, forsaken their most loyal disciple.

Tell me, Erden, was it all a farce? This hope that you planted in me, when will it bloom? When will you nurture it if you’re not by my side? Did you not promise to cherish the trust I bestowed upon you? Was it all a lie? Stupid, stupid, of course not, you never lied. Even when I hurt so much, even such scathing words fell from my lips, you would only smile and hush me. You were far too good, far too gentle.

How could I ever deserve you?

Yet, you swore to me. That night, remember? That you will come back. Somehow, under the star-filled sky, you promised. With my hands held within calloused ones, you wove the threads that now keep us together. Perhaps, through this fog of pain, I might remember the way your voice sounds. In that clarity, I hope the tears no longer fall. And you will lead me to that field of flowers you cherish, right?

If ever you look for me, come home. If not in this lifetime, then the next. And many more. If you can’t find your way, I will come find you.

Because that’s our promise.

#final fantasy 14 #ffxiv oc #FFXIV_Viktus

[wanderingviktus]

Kindred spirits🌻

[wanderingviktus]

Of course, nothing but the best.

#ffxiv #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv oc #vk_ss

[wanderingviktus]

Drowning Sorrows

These scenes happen right after Heavensward quest.

CW: NSFW, Copious consumption of Alcohol, Bad Coping Mechanism, Yaoi

----

Perhaps I should cease the countless night of overindulging in alcohol.

I don’t miss the worried glances that Alphinaud sends my way nor the gentle touch of Tataru’s hand on my own, pressing my calloused drinking hand down on the table. The way she murmurs my name in worry, or the gentle guidance of Hilda’s companions as they drag my inebriated body to the quarters I was borrowing for the night.

I had learned sooner it was all the better to hide away from House Fortemps, I could not bear to step into the home despite Lord Edmont’s worried summons.

I was a coward; I couldn’t even face the man who had given me refuge since we were branded traitors by the realm, we fought tooth and nail to prosper.

Deep down, I didn’t mind being told to go here and there. It gave my life a semblance of direction, the path though drench in sorrow and macabre.

Ah, these will be thoughts left for another night.

“Viktus…”

I tip the last drops of brandy onto my tongue, settling the glass on the weathered table to give Gibrillont a questioning look. He merely sighs, taking my now empty glass and stepping away. “I think you’ve had enough for the night.”

“Yes, I do think so myself.” The words are slurred but I was stalwart. I do believe I was still sober, save for the slight waver in my posture. Hilda throws me a worried glance, but I stop her from standing up. I didn’t want to return to the cot The Forgotten Knight so kindly offers. Not for tonight.

I glance back at Gibrillont, haphazardly slamming a handful of gil, “For the trouble.”

“You better watch yourself, Viktus.” He murmurs as he slowly slides the coins into his palm.

“When did I ever drop my guard?” I chuckle, staggering away from the counter. I grip the handrails as I ascended the steps, perhaps some time outside could perk me up. I didn’t want to sleep yet, who knows what nightmare was waiting for me this time.

The creak of the door welcomes the shock of cold on my skin. I shudder at the dip in temperature but this was what I wanted right? I grumble softly, stepping out of the warm tavern, letting the door close behind me.

The thin material of the scholar’s clothing provides little warmth under the onslaught of the Ishgardian weather. My breath fogs in front of me but my eyes ever wander, taking in the bleak scenery. The moon sits high within a cloudless sky as snow continues to fall all around me. What time was it? Far too late to wander with a muddled mind yet I cared none for decorum.

 I stumble my way towards the Congregation, a name on my lips. Firmalbert was startled at my drunken presence, kind enough to offer assistance to bring me home.

I could laugh to myself.

Home? Where was home?

Long have the days gone and nowhere feels like home. With all that happened, where can I rest my head?

I clear the errant thoughts from my mind, telling him that I had business here. Though he looked skeptical at my words, he steps aside to give me passage. My unsteady steps would most likely arch a brow but he did not comment as I made my way inside. The hearth casting warm around the room, but the landing wasn’t my destination.

I turned to the side, nodding to the guard before I make my way to the Lord Commander’s office. He steps aside to let me through though I notice the worried crease in his brow as I was passing through. Thankfully he made no comment as the doors closed behind me, though it eased little of the tension hanging in the air.

The air feels much colder inside than outside, chilling my fevered skin as I take the last few steps to the Lord Commander’s study. My calloused fingers wrap around bronze, twisting the small knob so silently; the man in front of me hardly pauses from his task.

Carefully, I step into the simple office, my booted feet making no sound on carpeted flooring. Dragging the door behind me as slowly as I could my gaze hardly shifting from the scene in front of me. It’s only by the gentle click of the lock does Aymeric finally bring his gaze up, his body jolts in surprise at my presence.

“My friend, what brings you here? At this hour no less.” He hastily drops the paper within his hand, pushing the pile to the side as his other hand wipes the tiredness on his face. Had I been sober I would have frowned in worry, but that was a thought that I hardly cared for at the moment.

He clears his throat, closing he distance between us until he stands an arm’s length in front of me. His smile falters lightly, perhaps the strong scent of alcohol from my body was a giveaway. I sway to the side, blushing lightly at the sign of weakness.

The Lord Commander’s hands are quick to steady me, though he remains a safe distance. I look up to find his brow creased, thinking, hesitant. I straighten myself, his hands guiding until they slide away, leaving a warm trail on my skin.

“You should be home and in such a state no less. I shall have a guard aid you on the way back. House Fortemps is quite a walk.” He looks away, cheeks lightly stained red, “I would have accompanied you but I have some documents that need tending to.”

“We both know I can’t stay upright for that long.” I chuckle and Aymeric joins in.

“True. I should have been more astute in my assessment.” I watch his lips mouth the words, the pompousness of his vocabulary grated me in my drunken state. “Though, embarrassing as it is, I have only the seat to offer as a space of respite.”

“That is more than enough for a weathered traveler such as me.” I joshed.

“Ah, I had forgotten you are not a novice to such unfavorable circumstances. Do forgive me, my friend.” He was talking too much.

Aymeric’s hands steady me as we make our way to the seats, my body sagging as we sit down. The plush pillows around me was enough to lull me to sleep but sleep was a place I hardly run to at the end of my days.

“Now, perhaps I can fetch for some blankets to ease your stay. For a moment, let me- “So noisy.

I grasp his wrists, pulling him down to me. The clink of his armor fills my ears as I close my eyes, warm lips against my own. So quickly to press, so quickly to leave.

“Ah! My apologies, I stumbled against you.” Aymeric sputters and I open my eyes to see the crimson sprawl of a blush on his pale cheeks. He steps back, a hand covering his lips as he stares at me, “Truly I am sorry, my friend.”

His apology rouses me momentarily to sobriety, for a moment I feel shame. My hands lose their hold on him, falling into my lap as I stare at the callouses decorating my palms.

“No, it’s my fault.” I swallow thickly, quickly rearranging the pillows around me, “I’m sorry Aymeric. That was a stupid thing to do.”

“No- “

“Yes, it was. I apologize.” I feel the pinprick of tears stinging my eyes, stupid, stupid. “Well, please leave me to it. I don’t want to be a nuisance to your tasks.”

Aymeric grasps my hand, the metal of his greaves shock my body, “No it wasn’t…”

He trails off, pursing his lips before he looks away. The tips of his ears turn red in embarrassment but his hands still enclose my own.

“I’m clearly drunk and putting you in such a spot would be- “

“No,” Aymeric purses his lips, “I would want what you are offering…”

I arch a brow, more awake, perhaps a little soberer than a moment ago. “Are you-?”

He looks surprised before looking elsewhere, perhaps I will never hear the words from the Lord Commander’s lips.

“Then, you’ll let me…?” He nods to my query, and all hesitation leaves me.

I bring a hand to cup his jaw, bringing him closer. Aymeric’s deep blue eyes become half-lidded as he stares me down through thick lashes. I slide my hand to his nape, pulling him flush to my lips once more. This time I drink the sounds that spills from his lips as his hands make a trail along my sides.

Fingers undoing the intricate claps that keep his attire intact.

I cursed under my breath as I peeled layers and layers of Aymeric’s cumbersome armor. What is with Ishgardian nobility and the pompousness of their clothing? His own hands match my fervor, easy to part cloth and buttons as compared to my own hand’s work. The cool air summons goosebumps upon my skin, clothing sliding off my scarred body.

The clatter of armor against the carpet softens the sounds we’re adding to the late Ishgardian night. I pray the guards do not become nosy to the events behind the closed door.

Errant thoughts flit into my mind, compelling me to worry, to second guess, to wonder all the wrongs of the moment. Yet Aymeric’s lips chase the noise away, his touch burning the chill that has clung to my skin.

I want a time where I am not the warrior of light, or the savior of Ishgard, merely,

“Viktus.”

The hot press of his palm against my scarred body rouses my blood. His lips on mine, biting, needy; matching the fervor of my own touch.  Two fools, so eager to just forget their shortcomings; chasing at the promise of warmth. A momentary reprieve to chase the cold, the emptiness.

I could almost laugh. Pitiful as we are, titles, armor and medals decorated our very being but we’re all the same once bare.

I remember vaguely how the night continues, only the hot rush of being wanted. For a night, the gentle embrace of another chases the nightmare away.

But how long should I continue running?

#final fantasy 14 #ffxiv oc #ffxiv wol #ffxiv #aymeric de borel #yaoi #FFXIV_Viktus

[wanderingviktus]

Where the Morrow Goes

I’m alive (but unwell). I’ve been sick for a number of days, therefore what better way to burn the hours than write, right? :D

My friends gifted me the whole game as a birthday gift. I welcomed my day of birth crying to the end of Dragonsong. But anyways, here’s a small write-up because I feel very melancholic.

Spoilers for Dragonsong

---

Raw. It all feels too raw, like lancets dragging onto my skin.

Every fiber of my being is on fire, my fingers digging into the eye so deeply embedded into Estinien’s armor.

“Aaargh!” Alphinaud’s cry of frustration mimics my own, my fingertips finding purchase to hold on to. Why was it so hard? Why was every step forward accosted with three steps backward? How many more are we to lose?

“How many more!?”

I cry out to no one as my fingers dig into the sockets of the cursed artifact, gritting my teeth as the foolish object hardly budges. As if spurned by my fury, the younger elezen by my side utters a cry, his hands finding their place.

“Aaaargh!!” For such a small body, he toils under the pressure. The furious aether of a wyrm filled of vengeance and scorn. Was that agony in its song? I try not to delve into the melody, fearing a mere note would render me weak.

Weak.

Weak.

The word thunders in my mind, mocking. Was the title of 'Warrior of Light' wasted on me? For all our efforts, for all our trials, for all we have lost, my hands could do no more than slide along the slick covering of Nidhogg's eye.

Had I been stronger, I could have-

I close my eyes, there was no time to drown in melancholy. I did not have that luxury. I did not deserve it.

Would I lose another friend so soon? I choked a sob. No.

A blanket of gentle warmth settles upon my fingers, making me turn to the source. A gentle smile, the reassuring figure. The familiar aura of support that no one else has provided me ever since I journeyed across Eorzea.

It takes every ounce of control not to break, not now, not soon. I must hold steadfast for the task at hand was far too great to relinquish. My eyes dwell on the sight in front of me before a gasp tears away from Alphinaud's lips.

To my side, I saw Ysayle’s figure, her much larger hands covering Alphinaud’s; guiding, supporting, just as she did when-

I bite my lip, two pairs of hands pulling onto the eye making its gaze rattle in place. The surge of aether sunders into my tired body before the Ishgardian artifact bursts out of the wretched socket, making me stagger backward. Had the gentle grip around my wrist not been, I surely would have dropped onto my arse.

The hot flash of energy erupts around us, blinding me momentarily. We watch Nidhogg’s form shudder, ascending up into the sky. He disappears, along with his wrath, his vengeance, and his anguish. Finally, the end of a woe-full song.

I look to my side, afraid, truly. For this moment, he’s here. His gaze was upon the sky, for a while I could study him. He was everything I remember. Standing tall under the blue sky, so unlike the day I lost him.

“Haurchefant…” His name lingers on my lips, his hand slowly releasing my own. And there, he smiles, just as I remember it.

Slowly, he steps back; his hand returning back to his side where I fear I can no longer grasp.

Ysayle matches his steps, her duty done. She turns to Alphinaud, a gentle smile ever on her lips. The young boy was at a loss for words, his hands grasping onto the eye. Perhaps, mirroring my own thoughts.

I drank the sight of them.

There they stood, my proudest friends. My-

With smiles ever etched on their faces, the hopes they sewn into my mantle ever burn. And much like the aether around us, they slowly dissipate. Turning away as they slowly part from me.

I desperately did not want them to.

No, come back. Stay. My mind cries out; wishing only for them to be at my side. I know I should not hold them back; I know I should not keep them. I know but-

“Thank you, my friend…”

And he’s gone.

---

Why do you go to a place where I cannot follow?

No amount of spirits can numb the mind forever, I realize. Sitting haphazardly upon my chair, an near empty canker of brandy sitting atop my desk. The candle has long died through the night.

Rest has escaped me these past few days, despite my companions urging for me to take it. How do I tell them that nightmares plagued my mind as I slumber? That I feel powerless in my own dreams? That I see a man I cherish die in front of me numerous times?

Pathetic. I let the sour word linger on my tongue as a fresh prickle of tears wet my eyes. How many more times do I have to remain stalwart in the eyes of the public, to be the well-decorated Warrior of Light?

To keep walking forward despite the weight I have on my shoulders, the ambitions, the dreams, the hope of the people that have long passed. They paint me in white to signify my deeds but truly do they not see how red my hands are?

I feel the wet trickle down my cheek, how many days have I sat to wallow in my misery? I lost count.

They call me a hero but do I truly deserve such a title?

Was it because I was ever at their beck and call?

That I was of service to their needs?

That I was the shield that they call upon?

Why?

I don’t want to be a hero.

But, his words echo in my mind. The one who believed in me,

“A smile better suits a hero…”

But how can I continue smiling, when you’re no longer here?

--

10/17 edit: For more pain.

#final fantasy 14 #ffxiv #haurchefant greystone #final fantasy #dragonsong #angst #mourning #im trying to cope but i cant #FFXIV_Viktus

[wanderingviktus]

3 : Temper

Cw: graphic description of violence, blood

The sheer strength of a blade is dependent on the number of strikes the hammer has dealt it with, the heat that made it bend, and the artisan’s skill. Much like my own body, brandishing each blow that came my way.

I grit my teeth, the strong taste of iron on my tongue. The shield fragments in front of my eyes as Titan’s heavy hand strikes through, bringing my arm with its aggressive sweep. I don’t remember the cry of pain that escapes my lips, only the taste of dirt as I fall to the ground. I cough, sputtering a mouthful of blood as the blows continue to land on my back. I lost count how many times I’ve been struck, feeling myself sink into the ground as the Lord of the Crags pushes me down with each pound of his arms.

“Viktus!”

I wince, pushing myself off the ground as I turn to the side. The panic in my companions’ eyes spoke leagues of the assault I’m going through. Each heavy drop of the solid hands broke bones within my body. A constant stream of blood trickled from my lips as my conscious mind is riddled with waves upon waves of pain.

Not even the mending spells of our healer could ease the lancets digging into every fiber of my being. I lapse out of consciousness numerous times, the sound of metal splintering under strikes ringing in my ear. It takes me a while to realize I was face planted to dry earth beneath, my labored breathing sputtering more red splatters under my gaze.

The hot flashes above me, the sparks that peppered onto the ground as my companion throws numerous spells. His carbuncle flashing red under his magic, moving around the primal as it continues to hurl the boulders around my companions.

Stand.

I grit my teeth, willing my broken arms to push my body up. The large creature’s attention was drawn to my companions; of whom I have sworn to protect. I had dragged them to this lofty trip, my desire for their assistance to get this quick task sorted out with the kobolds. I didn’t expect to meet their lord, to be at its mercy within a cavern while my companions cower under its gaze.

“N-no…” Feeble, a gurgle of blood and pain as I reach out to the primal. The lack of shield against my arm was unsettling, naked; a grim reminder of my failure in keeping them safe. I pulled the sword closer to my body, dragging the blade along the dirt as I push myself upon my knees.

I bit my lip, tapering the scream at the tip of my tongue. I suck in a breath, wincing at the spasms of pain, steeling myself. What good was a shield that breaks from such blows? Willing my arms to move, dragging the tip of my blade along the dirt.

“Where are you looking at fool?” I called out, throwing the sharp fragments of my splintered shield at the primal. It catches his attention, its angry gaze beholding my broken body.

I stagger to stand on weakened legs, blood drawing rivulets down my skin. Foolish, I brandished my blade, awaiting the continuation of this onslaught. It comes sooner than I hoped, making me kneel under his attack.

I grit my teeth, blocking his blows as best as my wounded body can endure.

Perhaps, I was too smug to believe I could take on such a beast on my own. For now, I will rely on my friends, I am but tempered steel under their guidance.

#ffxivwrite2022 #ffxiv rp #ffxiv oc #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv #FFXIV_Viktus

[wanderingviktus]

2 : Bolt

{Heavensward Content}

Armored feet clambering on the stone steps as torchlight reflect on sharpened blades. The sing of magic on skin leaving burns in their wake, charred mouths left agape in a silent scream.

Cries bouncing as blood splatters on the walls, the promise of freedom fading with each step forward.

The weight of light shackled one’s footsteps until they pace no more.

There was little time to think, little time to stop and catch one’s breath until now.

The light of a new day does little to appease the cold that was settling into my body. Dying embers in the fireplace, leaving ashes in their wake. I lie about in my cot, tired eyes tracing patterns on the stone ceiling. How could one sleep after such an ordeal?

The screams of my companions.

The sing of blades.

The bodies that fell one after another.

It plagued my mind, the imagery filling the space as I closed my eyes. I could hear each gasp, feel each splatter of blood on my skin. I tossed and turned, the coarse sheets scratching at my thick clothing. I couldn’t run away from my mind, no matter where I willed it to go.

I blearily blink, murmuring a curse as the chill seeps through the blankets; plaguing my fatigue mind with the concept of winter. Sluggish, morose, I sit up, bringing with me the frosted breath as the fire dies out for another day.

I look at the crackle of blackened wood, feeling a kinship to the ash.

The light within me was gone, erased from existence. And with its departure, took my friends, people I’ve held arms with. People I’ve come to care in the short journey across the world, from flourishing spring to cold winter.

I feel my body shudder, the heavy taste of guilt on my tongue.

And no sooner did the tears fall.

#ffxivwrite2022 #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv #ffxiv rp #FFXIV_Viktus