xiakha

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite 2023 Prompt #30 - Amity

What was G'raha Tia's relationship with the Warrior of Light?

...It was something he'd rather leave analysis to the scholars of the future. Let them ponder the invisible bounds that joined their souls and fates together. Let them ruminate over the meaning behind the words written, said, and left unsaid. He hoped the scholarly papers devoted to speculation and discourse when his body was long dust and his aether fully returned to the Lifestream were plentiful and heated.

He'd personally rather not think about it in the same way he'd rather not think of death or what he looked like if he kept gorging himself at the Last Stand every night.

But if hard pressed and well sauced after a few drinks...

It was complicated. Layered. Knotty. Of course it was. How could it not? It was like cleaning up after a library of stacked papers and tomes had all of its shelves knocked over.

Where to start?

In the beginning, he was foolish enough to believe himself capable of keeping abreast with Xiao. He certainly saw himself at least her mental equal, if not better, so, even though his shoulders weren't nearly as broad as hers, he could at least lift his own weight. Sure, Xiao could easily lift whatever was considered his own weight and her own weight at the same time, but the principle was there.

In his youth he thought a lot about principles and how things should be instead of how things were. Of course he did. He could barely look himself in the reflection without the thought of his future and his fate hanging over him. Spending almost twenty years learning and researching your way to one far flung goal because your eye's as red as Dalamud does that to a guy.

He recognized how foolish and wastefully self sacrificial it was now, but he had stupidly thought it impressive then. It was a Big Deal. Most brooding characters could harp on about their tragic past, but how many had tragic futures? It wasn't until he left Sharlayan and met Xiao that he started to realize how silly it sounded.

Ah but the sunk costs he had incurred blinded him at that time to any semblance of reasonableness. To back out was to say the last twenty or so years he spent focusing his will to this one goal was all barking up the wrong tree. He was chained by his past to follow through to a future he was equally chained to. There were no choices to make.

Whereas Xiao, with so many choices in front of her, so many choices that she had already made, some she regretted, some she would make over and over again, she was special to G'raha. She was doing what he could never imagine himself doing, what he dared not imagine himself doing. It was from this that his admiration, idolization, and horrid crush stemmed. How many times did he watch her walk away from the Sons of Saint Coinach camp wishing he could follow? How often did he want to walk away from his own tired talking points, no matter how "true" they were, and just agree with Xiao to abandon it all?

In the end, it was well that he did not.

Two hundred years asleep, another hundred constantly awake. Immediately after waking, he did all he could to brush up on history, to attempt to catch himself up. He spent an unhealthy amount of that time immersed in the two hundred years of mythologizing the Warrior of Light: her exploits, accomplishments, affairs, real, remixed, or imagined wholecloth. He ached to have joined her, ached to have rewritten the past so that he broke the chains that bound him down.

Yet he also chained himself to another future, a more desperate, impossible future that relied on man made miracles and unimaginable odds. He would thread a needle a shard away with the Crystal Tower itself. He told himself it was for Xiao, to save her though she was two hundred years dead. His love for her, his hero worship led him such extremes... And yet it was his single minded stubbornness that got him through and let him grit his teeth through the worst of it.

And all of the sudden he was in her presence again. He successfully summoned her. And then his hero worship and hundred-year crush was further complicated by more ends-justifying-the-needs behavior. If he was ever going to convince her that he wasn't the same little shite, well, he wouldn't be able to. He'd be dead after all.

But then she figured it out.

"G'RAHA TIA, YOU FOOL, DON'T DO IT!"

She remembered him.

If he were not shot there and then, perhaps he would have flubbed the incantation anyway and a century of careful planning would have gone horribly to waste. Worse, he could have succeeded, and then how would the encounter with Emet Selch have fared?

After all that, there was a lot of conversation. Much of it awkward, somewhat painful. It helped realign his understanding of the Warrior of Light. G'raha didn't explain his feelings, after a hundred years of living and enduring for someone, how can you? But he was able to disentangle his love for the people of his little nation and his feelings for Xiao, and he recognized how much they had always meant to him, though his eyes were so consistently focused on a distant horizon.

And then his first actual death. He couldn't remember dying but he could remember being close, the feeling of the Crystal Tower devouring his aether. No confession from him at this point either, though it was probably just as likely his memories would not integrate to his former self.

Once back on the Source, it became clear to him that he had waited too long, had he any hope for courting Xiao in any way. It must have been still on the First that they made it official. To see Xiao and Y'shtola so openly holding hands or touching another's shoulder or other simple yet intimate gestures, well, a hundred years of ruling the Crystarium taught him how to smile fondly at the joy of others while swallowing his own worries and concerns. And the more that he and Xiao walked side by side, the less he felt the need to gush about her inwardly. She was no demigod. She achieved the impossible through dogged effort and mindful application of her blade. Slowly but surely, the trust she lost with the half-coerced way she went about the business on the First returned, and she was able to speak with G'raha without that guarded set to her jaw.

It was a quiet night in Sharlayan after visiting the Moon that he finally asked.

"Say, Xiao... I really have to know. Are we friends?"

Xiao put down her sipped glass of liquor and raised one eyebrow at him, "Seriously, G'raha?"

"It's just... after all this time and all that's happened and all that's to come... We never did revisit the last conversation we had before I locked myself away in the Crystal Tower."

She punched him in the shoulder none too lightly, "Daft cully, smart in all ways 'cept what matters."

"...Is that a no?"

"Do y'want it to be a no?"

"I most certainly do not! But there's been just so much between us. You have all the reason to barely tolerate my presence."

"What I barely tolerate is this sort of conversation, ye sapskull git." She chugged the rest of her glass before slamming it down on the table, looking up at G'raha actually teary-eyed. "So much between us, that we've gone through together, and you're still questionin' if'n we're friends?"

G'raha laughed at his own doubts and wiped away his own tears. After all that, it was true.

They were friends.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #FFxivWrite2023 #wordvomit #story #g'raha tia #xiao longbao

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite 2023 Prompt #29 - Contravention

Betrayer and breaker of family, of friends, of station, of peace, of accords, of nations, of fate.

All these things and more.

Yotsuyu goe Brutus claimed them all.

She betrayed them all and broke with them for they betrayed and broke her first.

She was consumed by the fire within and without. Every staggered breath, every nerve ending, every mote of aether, every fiber of her being burned with the intensity of a thousand newly forged knives quenched by plunging into flesh. Her flesh, her soul.

If she must burn, and she saw no alternative, then she would burn everything else with her. If she must suffer, then all should suffer with her. If she were to be set on fire, then she would set aflame everything that she could touch.

It did nothing to balm her pain to exsanguinate her parents. It brought her no reprieve to reclaim her titles and her former self. It brought her no relief to end the peace talks, sham as they might have been, between Doma and Garlemald. Nothing helped. She burned. Her past was nothing but ash and soot, her present an inferno, and there was no future to consider.

So she danced, hot coals at her feet.

Let her rage, her sorrow, her pain, her regrets, her bitterness, her fear all blossom incandescently, gloriously.

What was this called? An eikon. A primal by Eorzean reckoning. Ah, to elevate her suffering to the heavens, to deify these emotions... Justice? Honor? Duty? What did these matter? Even Retribution was utterly meaningless at the end, but there was little else she could do, enkindled as she was.

She did not hope to be reborn as the phoenix, she only wished to add everything to her funeral pyre.

That she had to take on the guise of the Moon Goddess as opposed to something more aflame, well, she could make do. The light she already contained. The red she would draw from those that opposed her. A blood moon shining endlessly in an eternal night of desolation, everything charred black by the soot of her ever-burning pain.

Ah, there was but one that she was still faithful to, she supposed. Her enemy. The Warrior of Light stepped forth, crimson as the blood that would spill soon from her body. She showed proper piety by doffing her plumed hat and bowing her head.

"...I will do what I must, but I wish you could have found healing, Tsuyu."

Despicable. Did the Keepers of the Moon not revere the entity she now was one with? Why bring up an illusory persona, adopted in ignorance, pathetic and miserable, unable to face the cruelty of reality? Did she not see what faced her now in full glory?

At least her enemies were supposed to hurt her, but she was unaware that her enemies could hurt her in this way too. She had betrayed all, as all had betrayed her. And yet, the one that she thought she could rely on for deliverance, the one soul that she found punishingly reliable, her foe, her enemy, had found one way to betray her that she could have never imagined.

Pity? She would be given pity by her greatest of adversaries?

She did not want her pity.

She did not deserve her pity.

Yotsuyu did not wish to recall the story confided in her by the Warrior of Light when she was still Tsuyu. Of how Xiao found herself cognizant of the cruelty of her own assumed fate and the role thrusted upon her, of how she managed to escape it all through both miraculous luck and hard work. Of how she hoped to help Tsuyu do the same, to be liberated from the chains of her past and pick up a new future of her choosing.

How could such a vile creature exist, to wish happiness and a better future for someone who wanted nothing more than to see her crushed under her heel? She and Gosetsu were cut of the same despicable cloth. What a mockery of kindness, of faith, of happiness. So willing to forgive and forget and deny the unforgivable, the unforgettable, the undeniable. What could the Warrior of Light see in her? What could the Warrior of Light know of her pain?

Why was she doused with regret? Was this "Tsuyu" risen from the depths, hoping so stupidly for salvation? No. There was no salvation for the likes of her. The Witch of Doma was never to be offered any hope of reconciliation. She was not alleviated of her anguish because there was no alleviation to be had. This was always to be her fate.

Ah, but what was another flame added to a conflagration? It all burned the same. It would all end the same. Her transcendent agony would consume all or see her consumed. She engulfed those feelings of Tsuyu until they burned away. It didn't matter what the Warrior of Light thought or hoped or wished. She would cross blades all the same. This was the only fate ever offered, ever delivered, ever deserved.

Thus concluded the peace negotiations between Doma and Garlemald.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #FFxivWrite2023 #wordvomit #a short scene #yotsuyu goe brutus

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite 2023 Prompt #28 - Blunt

"Before we head in, any last thoughts, Lucia?"

The trip to Camp Dragonhead was mercifully uneventful, not a single Dravanian in the cold blue skies.

"Permission to speak plainly, milord."

"Of course."

"The princeling wields the Warrior of Light ineffectively at best. 'Tis akin to using Naegling to smash garlic cloves."

"Not one to mince words about this, are you?" Aymeric chortled and shook his head.

He straightened his face before opening the carriage door. "My thoughts exactly."

From Aymeric's analysis and reports left by his predecessors, Eorzea had no formal lines of nobility or heritage save the Sultanate. Oh there were lords, men and women of influence, and land owning civilians galore, and oft professions were handed down parent to child, but there were no blue bloods proper.

From where then came this princeling?

Oh he was aware that the child's grandsire had been the one at Carteneau that somehow averted total Calamity yet ruined Ishgard's food sources and economy utterly. He would have called it revenge for Ishgard's chilly disinterest at the time had Eorzea itself not suffered so greatly. But the elder Leveilleur was also foreign to Aldenard's shores. Did this family work off some sort of deluded worldly salvation, or was this a form of crabwise Sharlayan self-interest as often was the case with those convoluted and enigmatic ivory towered scholars?

And the Warrior of Light was another foreigner in all respects.

She was either mute or unable to speak Eorzean completely yet was able to follow orders in Eorzean to the letter. She was trained in the axe from working on a pirate vessel yet took up the lance as if it were second nature. She had no credentials or stakes in Eorzea yet became a rallying point for the three city-states and was the linchpin to the destruction of the Ultima Weapon and the formal reestablishment of the Eorzean Alliance. All of this within a year! A year after landing on the docks of Vylbrand and this Warrior of Light accomplished more than even Aymeric could hope to accomplish in a score or more.

It was, plainly speaking as Lucia did, an utter waste of resources to have this monstrously potent weapon in the hands of "Commander" Leveilleur. He was baffled by this state of affairs. Baffled that it was permitted by the Heads of State in Eorzea. When most children played soldier, it was not to the determent of an entire continent. No Ishgardian squire would have lease to command a squadron without years of wielding a blade, let alone a full contingent of men. Aymeric had seen multiple battles and had slain his first dravanian by Alphinaud's age, and yet the thought that he would lead men before he could barely poke his head above the battlements was unthinkable. It was, in many ways, nearly a slight to have to entreat with this uppity child. He hadn't even gotten his growth spurt yet!

But if he could gain access to the Warrior of Light, if he could have some hold on the "Savior of Eorzea," then it would be worth rubbing his face in the slop of a pig's pen. He'd even come out of said pen with a smile on his face.

But he had to be subtle, he could not afford to be as forthright or cavalier as those that he would speak with.

***

Entering the intercessory, Aymeric saw that Lord Haurchefant, the princeling, and the Warrior of Light awaited him. Almost immediately he was struck by the intimate ease with which Haurchefant stood by the Warrior of Light. Such crassness ill-befitted a man of his status, so he did not let it show on his face, but he was slightly aghast to find some truth behind the allegations that the two were intimately involved.

It was already slightly queer to hear of Haurchefant's rumored flings with adventurers that ventured forth through Coerthas, and it had been considered more proper tidings that Haurchefant had gotten involved with the Haillenarte's Francel until the scandal. Now the beloved overly familiar commander of Camp Dragonhead had chosen this Miqo'te? Perhaps what they said was true, that House Fortemps was too xenophilic, too open to foreign influences. Of the four houses it was always said that Fortemps would be the first to open its doors to Dravanians and spell ruin to the rest of Ishgard.

Well, to be fair, with the masculine air that the Warrior of Light presented herself in her dragooning armor and the impeccable way she filled out the armor, Aymeric could at least appreciate somewhat Haurchefant's supposed feelings. He also had full faith that the man thought with his mind first before his heart or his loins. In fact, it was Haurchefant's reports that finally stirred Aymeric from his office to venture all the way out here in the cold. The efficacy with which the Warrior of Light dealt with threats to the highlands virtually unaided, securing Stone Vigil and rooting out a heretic with insidious influence all in the same fortnight, not to mention her more recent accomplishments, was proof enough that she was an asset that Ishgard could ill-afford to leave solely in the hands of this princeling. If the hearsay were true, not that Aymeric put any weight in them, it was still cunning to secure the services and loyalty of the Warrior of Light even by such... indecent means.

The Warrior of Light herself was... perhaps taller yet shorter than Aymeric expected. He had spoken and worked with Miqo'te some before the Calamity hit, and most were not as tall as the Warrior of Light, but the stature of her deeds seemed to dwarf her actual height. A head of violet hair clipped short above the shoulders in a masculine fashion, an eyepatch to cover her scarred eye, and a scowl to match, the Warrior of Light could easily be mistaken for a man, even though she wore traditional dragooning armor. Aymeric never quite understood the rationale for leaving the midriff exposed on women only, especially after how the climes of Coerthas shifted in recent years. At any rate, the bared midriff exposed muscularity and a distinct lack of femininity that would still leave some second guessing. He was left to wonder if the Warrior of Light wore the armor to appeal to Haurchefant.

But beyond such superficial musings, Aymeric was most struck by the intimidating aura that the Warrior of Light seemed to hold, even by standing there. Part of it was the half scowl, part of it was the cavalier attitude she seemed to project. Some knights could achieve a familiar effect with their iron will, but the Warrior of Light seemed to have perfected it. Aymeric could hear a small voice in his head telling him to prepare for a fight, or perhaps run. His heart jostled and his mouth dried. She was a predator, a killer of men, a well honed blade's edge. She needed not speak save for the devastatingly effective language of acute violence. The lack of a covering breastplate was more a threat display than anything else: aim for her heart if you dared, it did not matter, your end drew near. Aymeric recalled some old wives' tale of warriors in the mountains that could achieve the same sort of monstrous aura. He couldn't help but wonder if the Warrior of Light had somehow learned from those mythical warriors of old.

And what of the princeling in his impractical outfit full of misplaced holes? He was as soft as the third in line to succession would be in any of the four Houses. Oh his eye had a keen glint, and no doubt he had skills of reasoning and analytical prowess, but he was still a boy in so many ways. It felt almost like Aymeric was there to take candy from a babe. Well, at least he could chalk it up to taking a sharp knife from a babe's hands.

***

...It was really that easy. A caravan, a single caravan, maybe twice a moon, something that he could write off as a personal expense for the Warrior of Light's aid. There were nobles bribed and promised with more for far less favor on the daily in Ishgard. And the princeling, Alphinaud, parted with power as quickly as a child would part with a particularly shiny rock at the call for supper.

Aymeric barely had to do anything. The supplies would have continued even if Alphinaud had utterly rejected the offer. Oh the other Houses would gripe about House Fortemps's aid, but they would as soon stop their own projects and machinations than really work to cut the aid that Fortemps offered. For one, it would lead to scrutiny of the caravans that the other Houses had coming and going from Ishgard. The only way he was sticking his neck out, really it was just the fingers on one hand, was to imply that Ishgard may join the Eorzean Alliance in the future.

And then the Warrior of Light herself headed off to deal with the threat to the caravan herself! He hadn't needed to lift another finger or offer anymore. At this rate, all of the vested interests Ishgard had in the east would be taken care of without further negotiations. He couldn't even call it a masterstroke of political maneuvering. The princeling and the Warrior of Light simply volunteered. He was baffled. All in without a look at their cards or an inkling of the cards that he held!

...Mayhaps that was how Haurchefant became so, reportedly, enamored with the Warrior of Light. Beyond her good looks and decidedly masculine "charm." She and her princeling were doormats with all of the realpolitik of knives used to spread salted butter on bread.

Indeed, he couldn't help but appreciate, perhaps trust, perhaps like, them despite himself. Maybe that was the real play, to induce such an air of guileless enthusiasm as to lull Aymeric into some sort of false sense of security, angling themselves into a position in which Aymeric's neck and belly were more exposed than the Warrior of Light's while she wore dragooning armor.

Or mayhaps... they were simply stupid.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #FFxivWrite2023 #wordvomit #aymeric de borel #a short scene

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite2023 Prompt #27 - Sole

Alisaie really didn't think this through.

It wouldn't be the first or last time she didn't think things through, but she had gotten better at it as the consequences of her thinking and her actions became more and more pronounced, especially on the First. It wasn't just her own life that she toyed with at times anymore. And even if it were just her own life at risk in the moment, her disappearance or her incapacitation were of consequence to so many others.

Now today's little bout of not thinking didn't have such drastic consequences. It wasn't Alisaie's funeral.

Well in a matter of speaking it was.

She was going to die of boredom.

When she heard Xiao was taking the day off, now that the business with Lightwardens and Emet-Selch was concluded, she was all for it. When she heard that Xiao intended to take the day off alone, she saw an opportunity. It was and had always been a long shot, Xiao still barely recognized her as an adult, but if she could make Xiao just recognize her feelings...

Really, the understanding that Xiao hadn't even bothered to invite Y'shtola, despite the fact that Xiao was deeply involved with the sorceress again, should have really given Alisaie pause. Xiao rarely slept nights at her place in the Pendants, so rarely that Alisaie had half a mind to use Xiao's room as personal storage just to see if the Warrior of Darkness would notice. Really, when Alisaie heard that Y'shtola had shacked up with Runar, she tried her best to temper her gleeful imagination, but she couldn't have imagined the speed at which that Y'shtola would return to Xiao's arms, or that Y'shtola would maintain relationships with both.

But Xiao was headed to the shore! The beach! She wasn't dressed in her battle gown and she barely carried anything that could be classified as a weapon with her! It was a holiday on the beach. Alisaie figured out what she could use as swimwear that was revealing enough to suggest her new grown womanly charms to Xiao while not being so revealing as to make the maiden bits of her heart chicken out utterly.

Oh what a fool she was.

She had chosen and worn a frilly swimsuit that exposed much of her thighs and a dangerous amount of what Alisaie would generously describe as cleavage. Xiao had given it one look and asked if Alisaie really planned to go swimming. Of all the signs that this was not what she expected, this was the biggest one. The thought that Xiao would spend the day lazily soaking in the sun was almost too ridiculous to consider. And yet Alisaie didn't consider what Xiao would be doing instead if she intended to go to the shore to relax but was not going to be swimming nor enjoying the sun. She should have stopped to think just a little.

Fishing.

It was fishing.

Of course it was fishing.

Now she was nearly half a malm off shore on a tiny boat with Xiao and a bucket of fish. There was no gallivanting or doing flips in the surf, there was no shakily showing off her womanly charm. There was barely any conversation even, Xiao told Alisaie she'd scare off the fish or ruin her concentration.

What did concentration have to do with how much a fish bit her line?

Alisaie had her own pole, at least Xiao had done some thinking ahead, but she did not have the patience or technique to do anything but flail her line and hook into the water. Xiao wasn't even looking at her at all! She'd also been forbidden from splashing and actually swimming in the water because that would definitely scare off the fish even more than conversation. At least if she was allowed to swim, she'd be able to escape this strange little wooden hell.

It wasn't as if Xiao was catching a lot of interesting fish either. It was mostly this flat fish shaped like a bootprint. Xiao had briefly muttered something under her breath about how these fish were misplaced in the saltwater, but otherwise seemed perfectly content to just fish the same kind of fish over and over again.

Alisaie was so utterly bored. She could feel her shoulders starting to crisp under the sun. Oh there was no doubt she would be peeling the next morning. She'd probably be as red as a cast of Scorch for the next week at least. Fortunately or unfortunately, her appearance would not cause eye damage or after images in the same manner as the spell.

And then, when Alisaie was nearly about to stick only her head into the water to either scream it off or drown, Xiao sighed and packed up her rod, tipping the bucket of fish over into the ocean.

Baffled, Aisaie had to speak up, "What's going on, Xiao?"

The Miqo'te shrugged, "Weather's changing, fishing window's closing. No luck this time."

"You didn't catch the fish you were looking for?"

"Aye, 'tis unfortunate, next time'll be different."

"You came out all this way for a single fish. You invited me out for the day for a single fish."

Xiao arched an eyebrow, "Aye? Was really surprised when you volunteered yourself to join. Doubly so when you showed up in that frilly thing."

"You could have told me you were only going to be fishing!"

"What else do you do off shore in a place like Kholusia? 'Tis not exactly prime beach material, too many hobs."

At least it was over. At the very least both of them were going to return empty handed, with no progress towards their respective goals. It was in a strange way a tie in Alisiae's book.

"Can we head home now?"

Xiao shook her head, "'Nother fishing window just opened, we're headed 'round Kholusia for a few more hours."

"...Is that also for just one fish?"

Xiao nodded with a small sheepish smile.

Alisaie pushed her off the boat before diving in herself and swimming towards the shore.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #FFxivWrite2023 #alisaie leveilleur #xiao longbao #wordvomit #a short scene

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite2023 Prompt #26 - Last

"Oh Venat, I was expecting you."

Azem was at her loom again. The clicking and clacking paired with the movement of the wooden frames that made up the half room sized device came across as an alien string quartet.

Venat paused. That indeed was Azem's usual greeting, but why was it all of the sudden so... sinister? Venat had gotten used to just barging into the apartment that Halcyone shared with Hades and Hythlodaeus because Halcyone always had the door unlocked for her.

"Hail, Halcyone, you're certainly busy."

She smiled in the harried way of someone with too much on her plate. "Well, I just got back to Amaurot, and I'll be leaving once again in the morning. So I'm hoping to get a bit more of my weaving in before I must leave."

Venat was also recently returned to Amaurot after quite the eventful trip.

"Such a pity that my better thirds are still occupied with Hermes. But you at least were able to spend some time with all of them?"

For a moment there was only the clacking sound of wood on wood.

"...Indeed. I wasn't aware that Hades and Hythlodaeus had an appointment in Elpis, otherwise I would have gone to greet them upon their arrival."

"Strictly speaking, Hades had the appointment. Hythodaeus was simply the plus one "expert second opinion" that went simply to sight see and enjoy the scenery. Alas, if only I could have gone, but I was halfway across the Star when they first left, and I'll be halfway across the Star once more before they return!"

"Did you weave that in?"

"The set up, yes. the end result, not yet." Azem jabbed a finger into the broad tapestry she had been working on for years. I shall be sure to add in the consequences once they debrief with me."

Venat wanted to scream. She wanted to shake Azem angrily. She needed to know how much of the trip to Elpis was guided by her hand, how much she shaped directly or indirectly.

Instead she said, "Ah, if only Hythlodaeus could be convinced to seek more fresh air and green grass in a less grandiose manner."

"Alas, but his lust for the grandiose knows no bounds, and I dare say that Hades and I both agree that we fell for him partially because he was always little bit too much."

Hythlodaeus was the light that brightened Hades's grumpy little existence. Conversely, Azem felt his presence as calming and his voice as wise. On his part, Hythlodaeus played both roles extraordinarily well, sometimes switching without missing a beat, sometimes catering to both his lovers with the same turn of phrase.

Venat could only groan in mock disgust at how perfect the three were for each other...

It was indeed strange that Azem was consistently in the right place at the right time, especially as her gift was the ability to weave fates, not change them per se, but guide them in a manner that she found more palatable. In each and every tapestry that Azem finished was another chapter in the grand story of the Star.

Venat did not wish to doubt her handpicked successor, (Ah but why did she handpick her in the first place?) but Elpis had her on edge.

"I'm curious, Halcyone, you've been working on this particular tapestry here for moons now, on and off. Will time itself outpace the speed of your weaving?"

"'Tis why I labor tonight, desperately trying to keep my work from becoming yesterday's news today." Of course, she could not alter the past, only the future yet to come. But it was important to have the recent past set down as well to continue the threads.

"Does your aetheric influence extend forever had you the time? Would you weave the story of the Star five thousand, five hundred thousand, years from now, could you?"

Azem blew a low whistle and looked up from her work to see Venat's nonchalant smile.

"I suppose, had I the time and resources, yes, But my works are only as strong as the cloth that is woven. Doubtless, one day the sides will fray and the weave will become undone, and any prophecy yet to be fulfilled would no longer hold."

"So, a good while, but not forever."

"Perhaps if someone were to maintain the tapestries and keep them tidy in perpetuity they would exist for much longer, but Venat, I hardly can imagine what will happen one year down the line, let alone five hundred or five hundred thousand." She looked out at an invisible length of tapestry that had yet to be woven, stretching on for malms, "'Twould be imposing work, even the mere skeleton of a plan would surely take years to create."

With this, the cloud on Venat's mind lifted, "Ah, so you have no such grand overarching plans."

Azem laughed, "Ah, but therein lies the rub, I do. And yet years later, after so much weft in warp and so much dealing with the responsibilities of Azem, I have barely started planning out my notes for this plan. Mayhaps I will fill my days with just weaving and leisure once I have passed on the title of Azem myself."

Venat smiled again, cheerfully, but hollowly, "I look forward to the day."

So it was a matter of outlasting Azem's imagination, holding out further and longer than her grasp on her shuttle and the length of her thread. She would free herself from Azem's influence simply through perseverance.

"...'Twould be interesting to perceive a Star in which the power and influence of the Convocation had waned so utterly as to be forgotten, would it not? I wonder how it would look then to wander the world."

Venat looked back at Azem, her goodbyes forgotten.

"Pardon?"

"Without a direct connection to the present day, there would be no guarantee that I weave true, but now that I think of it, I could weave a bit of a tale..."

"Halcyone, forgive my intrusion. I really should get going. Never mind my silly aside when you have so much work yet to finish!"

Azem nodded and waved as Venat left as suddenly as she had arrived. But even as she passed the shuttle, weft over and under, her mind wandered.

Who would it be that saw the end of the Convocation? Who would outlive the rest of them, the last of their kind?

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #FFxivWrite2023 #Venat #Azem #a short scene #wordvomit

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite2023 Prompt #25 - Call it a Day

Down in Amaurot, having recovered and collected her materials, Y'shtola found Xiao holding a strange orange crystal. As she approached, Xiao started to bring the crystal up to her face for closer examination.

"There you are! I was wondering where you had disappeared to."

Xiao turned, suddenly aware of Y'shtola, her mouth agape and the crystal nearly inserted.

"...What are you doing?"

Xiao dropped her hands from in front of her face and shrugged, "Just catching up with... a new old friend."

Y'shtola put a hand on her hip, "Are you well? Is something troubling you?"

Xiao shook her head, "Nay, all is well. Are you ready to return to the surface?"

The platinum blonde Miqo'te raised an eyebrow, "All right then. And yes, let us make haste."

But even as Y'shtola turned in place to being to channel a teleport, she grew lightheaded and started to tip over. Xiao caught her by the waist.

Y'shtola looked back and up at Xiao with a sheepish grin, "It would seem I may be more exerted than I realized."

Xiao sighed, "Elidibus has that effect on people. 'Sides, you collapsed before. Mayhaps we rest a spell until you've recovered your strength."

"Our friends await us in Eulmore, 'twould be unseemly to dawdle, especially since we do not know how quickly Elidibus's plans will come to fruition."

"So do you wish to swim ashore if you've not the aether to teleport? And in what state would you be in once you've finished your swim?"

Y'shtola crinkled up her eyes and nose, "Fair. You've seen your own share of excitement today as well." She looked around the Capitol, "What amenities do you think Emet-Selch created for himself down here?"

They wandered for nearly a bell before Y'shtola pointed out, whether it was because Emet-Selch did not know the contents of the buildings well enough to detail them or the aether within had already begun to fade, most of the non-Convocation-related buildings were facades, hollow shells of aether, barely enough present to support their own weight.

Save one.

Past the lobby of Achora Heights, there was a sole elevator that went to only one floor. Surprisingly, the grand elevator doors opened to reveal a more humble elevator, sized for someone much smaller than the recreation of the Ancients outside. Riding the elevator up to a top floor led to a narrow hallway filled with doors fused to their jambs. At the end of the hallway, there was but one working door, and it opened to a suite.

"Emet-Selch's humble abode, I presume," Y'shtola said, her sightless eyes flickering about.

In a matter of speaking, compared to the grandeur of the outsized buildings, this was indeed humble, but it was still fit for a king. The suite had an open floor plan with a large leisure space with overstuffed couches and bookshelves and a crackling fire. A kitchen with a bar sat off to the side, and sleeping quarters were lofted above a study of sorts. Behind the only door of the place was a bathroom with a grand bathtub set in the floor. And from the far wall of the kitchen, bathroom, and study were windows overlooking the rest of Amaurot.

Notably, the arrangements of the personal effects set out were for three. At the bar were three seats and three place mats, the wide bed was set up for three pillows, the sink in the bathroom had three toothbrushes, the study had a table large enough for three people to sit comfortably at. Though no dust accumulated, only one set of effects ever seemed used. Only one mat had a plate on it, the bed seemed slept on on only one side, only one toothbrush was displaced, and the study had only one chair pulled out as if recently sat on.

Having scouted out the area, the two sat down in front of the fire and ate some of the food that Y'shtola had brought with her for her trip and a bit of well preserved cheese and jerky that Emet-Selch had left behind in the pantry. It was mostly a wordless meal, the day behind them filling their thoughts.

As they finished eating and cleaned up, Xiao finally shuddered and spoke up, "Hard to say if this be a lonely heaven or a luxurious hell."

Y'shtola felt out instinctively for Xiao's hand, "Verily, 'tis hard enough to miss the presence of one for a few bells, but to feel the absence of two for eons..." She brought the rough knuckles of Xiao's fingers currently entwined with hers up to her lips for a quick kiss.

"Ah, so you missed me?" Xiao smirked.

"Please, I'm surprised Elidibus did not simply release me to spare himself from the whining you must have done in my absence."

Xiao pulled Y'shtola in with their entwined hands. She lifted her eyepatch to look deep into Y'shtola's sightless eyes with her own mismatched pair, now brimming with tears.

"I was so worried."

Y'shtola leaned in a bit to give Xiao a quick peck on the lips, "Good."

Xiao responded with a fuller kiss and an embrace. Despite herself, Y'shtola also wept, swept up in sympathetic pain and relief at the same time.

"Look at us, crying over nothing. The danger has passed with no harm come to either of us." Y'shtola paused, "I saw them, the remains of the simulacra of our friends and allies. Elidibus forced you to strike them all down, did he not?"

Xiao buried her face in Y'shtola's neck and shoulder and cried even more openly. "Slew them all, I've never seen such hatred on their faces."

Y'shtola hugged Xiao all the tighter, "My brave little dumpling, it must have been so hard.

"Haurchefant and you were the worst."

"Oh Xiao, I'm so sorry."

"Bloody monster knew naught of Haurchefant or you, didn't even make the copies move or fight the same way."

"But it still must have hurt so badly."

"It'll heal, it'll pass, I'm glad I've you here and now."

Y'shtola swallowed the lingering betraying thought of asking if Haurchefant or she was the harder to strike down. A question with no answer, especially inappropriate now that she had Runar as well, and their current setting was placed for three. She had seen her own lifeless corpse on the streets of Amaurot, head cleaved cleanly from the body in one swift cut. Even in such cruelty Xiao was at least merciful to her. Haurchefant's body, taller and stronger than hers, was in much poorer shape. The House Fortemps shield was cleaved to pieces, and his armor was ruined. Xiao must have given the body one final strike through the heart after it collapsed.

The violence and familiarity was enough to turn her stomach as it was, she could hardly imagine perpetuating it.

And yet, forced to face a simulacrum of Xiao in combat, Y'shtola knew deep down that she had the aetheric reserves to burst Xiao into submission quickly if not painlessly. It was as much she owed Xiao after everything.

Facing the real Xiao in combat though... that too terrible to even envision.

Xiao kissed Y'shtola again, Y'shtola kissed back insistently, pushing her tongue into Xiao's mouth. She leaned harder on the taller Miqo'te, who collapsed willingly on the couch.

"Easy, Y'shtola, your aether--"

"Xiao, alone as we are, and you still refer to me with the 'Y'?"

Her eyes, nearly dried by now, glanced into Y'shtola's with disbelief.

"Shtola?"

Even after Y'shtola finally declared her love for Xiao while they found a little time alone in the Ronkan ruins, this was a yet more intimate step for the brambly Miqo'te. The number of individuals allowed to refer to her as such were countable on the single hand of an accident prone butcher.

She smiled and crawled over Xiao, "Worry not about me, as exerted as I was aetherically, my body is whole and hale, and my spirit is willing."

Xiao simply repeated "Shtola" as quickly as she could. She reached up to kiss at Y'shtola's face and neck even more.

"Keep that up, and I just may revoke my permission."

"Oh, Shtola, love you so."

Y'shtola undid the clasp at the back of her neck and let her dress slip from her shoulders, "I know. And I love you too. Shall I demonstrate how?"

Xiao's outfit, the violet dress of which the textiles were provided by Haurchefant and the rest commissioned with no expense spared by House Fortemps, was a complicated outfit to disassemble. The corset needed to be unlaced, the collar removed, the armor unclasped and reset, the boots untied, and the layers of silk, leather, chainmail, and enchantments had to be undone and set aside carefully to avoid tangling. Y'shtola's dress was much more simple, besides the clasp at the back of her neck and boots to unlace, the strings at her back needed but a tug at the knot and Y'shtola would be simply in her smallclothes.

But Y'shtola enjoyed undressing Xiao, the intricacy was part of the tease, the service, the intimacy. She could do it largely without her aethersight now, her fingers dancing over Xiao's body, tracing her musculature and curves to find the next bit that she needed to fiddle and fondle with. The sound of Xiao's breathy voice hitching and gasping as she was undone also set Y'shtola's mind and loins ablaze for what was to come. Xiao was still repeating "Shtola" silently, at least when Y'shtola let her fingers drift up to Xiao's mouth. It was as if she were letting the feeling of saying her lover's name in this new manner become muscle memory.

Soon the dark knight was clad in only her smallclothes. Y'shtola could feel Xiao's expectant gaze, but she rose instead.

"Undressing you is sweaty work, and you might be just a bit ripe still from combat. Shall we use the amenities Emet-Selch saw fit to leave us?"

Xiao groaned, but rose still, "Aye, might as well clean up the mess you've left me in my smalls."

Bathing together was a rare treat, but Y'shtola let the mundanity of soaping up and washing Xiao's back take center stage, refusing to go further than a little bit of idle tracing of Xiao's shoulder blades or spine. She took delicate care around Xiao's piercings and bits of course, but did no further teasing. Xiao returned the favor, doing her best to keep from feeling up Y'shtola's breasts while wiping her down as they waited for the bath to fill. Y'shtola let her mind wander to how Emet-Selch would have looked, bathing here alone. Did he even use such an outsized bathtub, clearly build to hold more than two?

In the bath proper, the two soaked away the stress of the day, and then, properly pruney, Y'shtola motioned to have Xiao sit in her lap.

From an outside perspective, Y'shtola sometimes wondered if the Warrior of Darkness should not "share" herself more. It seemed almost decadence that all of Xiao was hers. Oh, Y'shtola was aware that Xiao had her reasons, much about her upbringing and the role she would have served had she not left her tribe, but still she gloried a little on the inside with how she had Xiao all to herself. Her broad back, the curvature of her shoulders, the steps to her serratus and obliques, the cut of her clavicles and abs, the cliff edge that was her illiac furrow, the thickness of her thighs... to say nothing of the bits between. Y'shtola savored every flex that arose from her ministrations, every bulge and grip of muscle that was a reaction to her fingers.

Y'shtola understood that the masculine way that Xiao presented herself was more or less a complete rejection of the assumed femininity of her position-to-be as matriarch of her tribe, but she ate up every small gasp and whine and shake of the hips that Xiao made, if only for the contrast. Then again, Y'shtola did also prided herself in leaving her men, Runar included, breathless and whimpering, so perhaps it was more of the same there. What Xiao lacked in bust size was made up for with the particular ring that was such a delight to toy with, tug at, flip, or tease with the fingers or tongue. Much further down, the beaded silver bar that lanced through the hood of Xiao's prominence served much the same function, the slightest touch of either left Xiao shivering with pleasure.

It was only too soon that Xiao doubled up, almost dunking her face into the water in her convulsions, and Y'shtola held her all the tighter, letting her teeth and lips rake and drag over Xiao's curved back without letting up with either of her hands. She felt like a live wire, that she would join Xiao in those tremors of ecstasy momentarily if she were just touched, but part of her own pleasure was the denial, the prolonging, the stewing and savoring, until it felt as if her mind were pickled in want.

"I tire at last, Xiao, and the water's become lukewarm. Can you pick me up and carry me to bed?"

Xiao princess carried Y'shtola out of the water and onto the stool they had used to initially bathe, delicately wiping her down with one of the two unused towels. She then used the third herself to quickly towel off and picked up Y'shtola again with almost comical haste, nearly knocking the door to the bathroom off with the kick she delivered to the handle and all but sprinting up the stairs to the loft. With some care, she placed Y'shtola down on the side of the bed that showed no signs of having been slept on, and brought her head down to Y'shtola's for a kiss.

The bed was soft yet supple, the material caressing Y'shtola's back and contorting to her curves without leaving her the feeling of sinking into it. It would serve well to sleep on, and more.

Xiao was, as always, strong, solid, and steady. At times, Y'shtola was acutely aware that, struggle all she'd like, she wouldn't be able to break from Xiao's grasp. Such was the difference in strength between the two without direct aetheric interference. That excited Y'shtola as well, the idea that she could not escape the inevitabilities that were to come, entrapped and induced as they were. To be fair, otherwise, she would likely attempt to drag out this heightened state for as long as possible, keeping her mind buzzing and juiced up. Then, they would not get any release or rest.

As such, with a squirm of her pushed together thighs, Y'shtola's entire body fluttered. Xiao licked sticky fluid off her fingers and then elbowed her way down so she could lift Y'shtola's hips to clean up the rest of the mess with her mouth and tongue.

After a few more rounds of back and forth, the two were sated, the horrors of the day behind them for now, and their steadfast bond renewed once more. Y'shtola took up the little spoon, the practicality of preferring her back soaked with sweat once she awoke rather than her front superseded her desires to be more dominant.

"G'night, Shtola."

"Good night, Xiao. I love you."

"As do I, love you too."

With their tails loosely entwined, the two drifted off to sleep in this bed made for three.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #FFxivWrite2023 #wordvomit #y'shtola rhul #xiao longbao #y'shtola x wol

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite2023 Prompt #23 - Suit

Yda and Xiao were an odd couple.

Had they not met in the particular way they did through the Scions, it would be unlikely they would have become friends at all in any alternative circumstances. Yda was talkative to a fault, a bit flighty, and nervously shallow. Xiao was effectively mute, vaguely reliable, and nervously thoughtful. The only reason they were so often lumped together was that the rest of the "main" Scions were Archons or people who were capable of keeping up in technical conversation with Archons. Xiao had neither the language nor the context to understand, and Yda was Yda.

So while the other Scions debated and discussed, Xiao and Yda were often left on the side to nod along absently or wander off.

The "office" of Warrior of Light had a somewhat complex set of political ramifications to consider when there was only one Warrior of Light. There were no trappings or particular benefits to being the Warrior of Light offered by any one particular city-state, but a shrewd Warrior of Light could make something work out for them by leveraging their strength, their protection, their aid. Sometimes it was a matter of playing one city-state against another, to make them bid for the Warrior of Light's aid. It was thus also a viable option for a city-state to refuse to recognize someone as the Warrior of Light, or, more commonly, to elect their own champion that would be properly biased towards their own city-state.

At any rate, the leaders of Eorzea were much more open to nominating Xiao to the position because she was aligned with the "neutral" Scions, and not just to Limsa Lominsa or to Maelstrom as they had all assumed she'd declare herself. Even if she obviously had a bit of a bias, the Scions would answer and work with all of the city-states, and Xiao would follow through loyally.

What none of the involved parties were ready for, however, was Xiao's own reluctance to be called the Warrior of Light. At the celebration of the destruction of the Ultima Weapon and the true renaissance of the Eorzean Alliance, Xiao had slipped away before the Warrior of Light nominations, and thus was not present to be nominated. As ceremonial and meaningless as the nomination actually was, it could not go through without her physical presence.

The Scions were sent out to look for Xiao, but only Yda knew where in Mor Dhona to look. Perhaps it was because she got lucky, perhaps it was because she knew where the other Scions wouldn't look first.

On Rathefrost cliff overlooking Silvertear Lake, Xiao sat with her feet dangling, tossing pebbles into the water. Yda approached with her usual casual disregard.

"They're all looking for you, y'know! Everyone's wondering where you disappeared off to."

Xiao gave Yda a half-hearted wave of greeting.

"I know you're not much of a talker, but do you mind if I sit with you?"

The Miqo'te shrugged, so Y'da sauntered over and sat down.

"Right, so, since it isn't me, what are you minding?"

Xiao pointed at her own chest and shook her head, "Warrior of Light not me."

"Worried about the responsibilities?"

She shrugged again, "Just not me."

"It's probably not the case, but you wouldn't be scared would you?"

Xiao gave Yda a look, both a hint of anger and a bit of shock.

Yda thought for half a second, "...Well, it's not that you aren't courageous to a fault, generally, just... this isn't something you can take a whack at with your axe to solve, right? The simplicity that you've been enjoying is going away, even if things aren't changing directly."

"Expectations."

"Yeah, only those expectations change, don't they? Not just any ol' adventurer to order around anymore, Warrior of Light means something."

Xiao nodded.

Yda stretched her arms and back and leaned backwards, looking up into the sky, "Well, it might not mean much, but I think it fits you." She gave XIao and easy smile, "And if I'm wrong, that's fine. It'll fit you eventually."

Xiao drew her legs up and hugged them, "Thinking so?"

"I know full well how it feels like to be called something that doesn't quite fit. Even if it isn't to begin with, eventually it'll be comfortable. At the least, being called 'Warrior of Light' gives you a goal to work towards, so you can strive to make it fit."

Yda got up, "If all them hoity-toity leader types are wrong about you, that's fine, everyone's making a mistake so the burden isn't on you. If you think they're going to use you, well, that certainly isn't much of a change, now has it? So why not try out the title for now and see what happens?"

Xiao got up too. She brushed off her tail and sighed, giving the gloom above Silvertear one last look and turned to Yda, "Perhaps."

"And the Scions will be behind you, always!" She pumped a fist and opposite foot in the air, "So let's see how it goes, eh?"

Xiao nodded again and cracked a smile.

"Many thanks, Yda."

Yda smiled too, under her mask.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #FFxivWrite2023 #wordvomit #a short scene #lyse hext #xiao longbao

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite2023 Prompt #22 - Fulsome

Xiao Longbao, Warrior of Darkness, was not a regular at the Beehive. For the most part it was because she was running around the realm saving it. For the rare occasions she was sitting still, she still did not linger, save to dress Kai-Shirr in something quite ridiculous. She claimed it was a matter of Eorzean, whatever that meant, style differences. Bosta-Zia was pretty sure Xiao did it at the expense of Kai-Shirr, who was clueless enough about fashion to give any random combination of clothes a try, so long as it didn't leave him looking underdressed in comparison to the dancers on stage.

...Considering what Xiao would put him in, perhaps she found the one requirement to be a challenge to overcome. It helped that the Mystel was young and as fit as one can be growing up on meol and starvation. Bosta-Zia absolutely didn't mind, and Xiao seemed to take great passion with her work.

But today was not about Kai-Shirr.

Today Xiao would be dressed up.

Tista-Bie, the Mystel that spent far too long playing that simple card game and yet seemed to never get bored, had commissioned her in-house tailors to surprise Xiao with a gift. Her previous flamboyantly vermilion Red Mage outfit was ruined by light aether in a way that could not be salvaged like her purple ball gown could. It was obvious to her that such a beautiful outfit could only be replaced by the work of the best tailors in Eulmore.

At least, as long as it was to Tista-Bie's specifications.

Bosta-Zia volunteered to help make it a little occasion, pizazz up the reveal a little.

When she saw the outfit, she was filled with immediate regret. Alas, Xiao was already on her way, back from her second excursion into the Empty. So she bit her tongue and did her best.

They decorated Tista-Bie's little table with a bit of ribbon and the congratulations banner that the Beehive would put up ever so often, and Tista-Bie and Bosta-Zia both put on conical hats of festivities. Bosta-Zia pulled a favor and got some champagne dunked in ice crystals even. At the very least, she would want a drink after this.

"Xiaolong-Bao!" Tista-Bie waved at the slightly wet looking purple Mystel that finally arrived. Xiao looked at the two ladies with her one uneyepatched eye (though Bosta-Zia always felt the presence of her eyepatched eye boring holes in people, she never did ask why Xiao had it patched up) with some skepticism, and her walk up to them slowed dramatically as she saw the box on the table.

"Ah, Bosta, you should have let me know Tista-Bie would also be joining us."

Bosta-Zia did her best customer service smile and head tilt, "Mayhaps I should have, but it was her idea and her surprise."

"Indeed, Xiaolong, I was told of your plight and I rushed to help!"

Xiao pushed her wet hair out of her face, "You have uh, hot chocolate?" It was humid as always in Eulmore, but she was still a bit clammy from dealing with the all that ice and snow. She would have stayed longer and warmed up a bit more with the very apologetic Ryne, but Xiao sensed that there were some words that needed exchanging between Ryne and Gaia, and there was also this other commitment.

"Better! Let's get you out of those dreary duds and into something much more spectacular!" Tista-Bie pulled the string to a confetti popper.

"...Was unaware that you had taken my measurements."

"Oh, no need, my tailors were quite certain you would more or less be the same size as me."

Xiao's nervous half-smile froze. She looked at Tista-Bie's full form, narrow shoulders, and ample bosom. Tista-Bie was the model Eulmore citizen and had the physique to match. The Warrior of Darkness looked down at herself, the musculature that she possessed, and her rather impoverish bust.

"I see," she said.

After a bit of a ruckus as Xiao started disrobing in the middle of the Beehive, she didn't see the issue as the dancers (and Kai-Shirr) were similarly adorn, they got her behind a screen with the new outfit.

There was a bit of a tortuously long wait before Xiao waddled out from behind the screen more or less dressed.

The hat at least fit. Bosta-Zia, getting over Xiao's disconcerting comment that she was constantly running around in her smallclothes so what was the big deal if Xiao stripped to her smallcothes, thought it was ugly as sin, but it was a very traditional Eulmorean foppish look. She wasn't sure where they got the feather, any birds large enough to produce feathers that large and stark white had died out long ago.

Unfortunately, that was the best fitting part of the outfit.

Xiao didn't bother with the boots, she couldn't get the leather for the thighs over her calves, and even if she somehow was able to able to cram herself into them, she didn't trust herself to walk in such high stiletto heels, never mind cast and do battle in them.

Speaking of thighs, the tight miniskirt was both riding up Xiao's powerful pair despite constant tugging, and was starting to rip at the seams. Perhaps it would have been more decent on a more slender and shorter frame, but she could not get it to sit on her hips and avoid flashing her smallclothes at everyone.

Xiao had heroically stuffed her arms into the sleeves of the frilly and bow adorned top until they resembled overstuffed sausages, but just couldn't get them over her shoulders. The fabric would surely tear if she did, and she wasn't ready to do that kind of damage to the Tista-Bie's gift, at least not in front of her.

This of course exaggerated the worst offender of the outfit. The front bit was about as baggy and empty as could be, and the intended poofy and frilly low neckline made it indecently so. In a way, Xiao was putting on more of a show than some of the dancers were. She had never considered herself well endowed, and indeed her chest was more pecs than breast, but this stung her pride in a way that it was not often stung.

All in all, she was a crimson disaster.

Tista-Bie clapped, "Why it looks quite nice!"

Bosta-Zia and Xiao looked at Tista-Bie with the same painful disbelief affixed with a smile.

"It does need a little bit of modification, but that is why I have my tailor here!" Tista-Bie waved her hand nonchalantly and the tailor bowed and walked forward. He approached Xiao as if she were a bombkin, fit to explode.

It was no small miracle, but he was able to at least let out the sleeves, shoulders, and skirt enough that Xiao wasn't immediately flashing her bits at all onlookers with every move, but there wasn't much he could do with the.. bagginess of the front.

"Most sincere apologies, Madam Xiaolong, we would need to return the top to the workshop to do more, but for now..."

When he had finished his ministrations, Xiao looked down. For the first time in her life, she could not see her torso, let alone her feet. Instead, there was what looked like an entire pillow's worth of padding filling what was a void in the top. With how Tista-Bie constantly slumped forward in front of her cards, it was well disguised, but the lady Mystel was apparently quite well endowed.

Somehow, this stuffiness made Xiao feel worse than the bagginess.

"What do you think, Xiaolong? Isn't it lovely?" Tista-Bie bobbed in the way that rich women who were very sure of themselves despite everything did.

Xiao looked up from the obstacle directly under her eyes, "'Tis unlike any outfit I've worn before."

"How does it feel? Doesn't it accentuate your brawniness?"

Xiao tried to move her arms, the material squeaked in protest, "Quite, yes. I feel very strong indeed right now."

"I'm so glad you love it! It's the least I can do for the wondrous savior of the realm!"

Bosta-Zia and Xiao looked at each other.

"Certainly it's quite an outfit," Bosta-Zia said, cautiously.

"Indeed, 'tis an outfit of all time," Xiao said, and she waddled back behind the screen to remove it before something actually ripped.

With some humility and much insistence, Xiao turned down the generous gift, such luxurious splendor would fare poorly on the battlefield that Xiao found herself most everyday. To preserve the beauty of Tista-Bie's benevolence, it was, perhaps, better displayed somewhere in Eulmore.

Tista-Bie relented, if only because being praised and lathered with attention from the slightly damp Warrior of Darkness was her primary reason for commissioning the outfit in the first place. Now she had quite the keepsake of her interactions with the Warrior of Darkness, no need to stretch the truth.

Only the cloth.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #FFxivWrite2023 #wordvomit #a short scene #xiao longbao

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite2023 Prompt #21 - Grave

They put a big slab of stone on top for a reason. Mostly it was so that no one could get in and defile the corpse. Beloathed tyrant viceroy of Ala Mhigo or not, to have his skull or other bits bandied about at this critical hour would do nothing for the reputation of the Ala Mhigans while provoking the Garleans even worse than they already were.

The other reason was that it would take a decent amount of effort to push the slab off from the inside, especially as there was no room for leverage or anyway to push off otherwise. It was small comfort as the man was monstrously strong, but it was at least a hinderance that wouldn't make checking up on the corpse impossible.

And at the very least, it would be fairly obvious that the slab was displaced.

So when the slab was still in its original position and yet the body was missing, Thancred was the first to respond with the thought that everyone present had all at once.

"Aw, shite."

"We seem to be missing a corpse."

Lyse shot Thancred a glare.

"Well it must be somewhere. I only hope it isn't walking around."

Lyse shot Alisaie a glare as well, this one was a just a tad less hateful, more disbelieving.

"...Gonna to have to kick his arse yet again, eh?"

Lyse swiveled her head around to Xiao for her bit of cone AOE, "Really, why are all of you like this? This is a serious matter!"

Thancred shrugged, "Not much else we can do with the nothing present." He gestured fruitlessly at the empty stone sarcophagus.

"Do we know that the corpse hasn't shriveled up to match the size of his heart? Perhaps his enormous size deflated without all of that hot air he was spouting."

Xiao nodded along to Alisaie, "Perhaps he got thirsty in the middle of being dead and got up to get some water."

"Well then how do you explain the slab being replaced?" Lyse asked, defeated.

The Miqo'te looked up thoughtfully, "Zenos could have been very tidy. Never saw him in his private life, so hard to say."

Alisaie looked around absently, "Should we wait around until he returns with his pitcher of water then?"

Thunder rolled above them. Not in laughter, mind.

Lyse stopped her foot, "Seriously you three, how do we know for sure that this is Zenos returned or an Ascian possessed and not something more mundane? Could it have been a fire? Perhaps some sort of lye mixture that eats away at corpses?"

Thancred shook his head, "Nay, unfortunately there would be evidence for it, ash or residue left behind, and in the case of more volatile alchemical means, we would see etching on the stone."

Alisaie waved her hand in the sarcophagus, "Not glamoured to be invisible either."

"Could have been waiting for us to lift the slab afore scampering out." Xiao made little pawing motions with her hands. It ill befit her, let alone Zenos.

Lyse shook herself of this nonsense and the rain, "Well, this has been a futile if disturbing excursion, with the only revelation being the horrid sense of humor you three have in a graveyard."

Thancred, Alisaie, and Xiao looked around. Ah. It was not unlikely that Lyse had family buried somewhere in this selfsame graveyard. That was probably why she was so high-strung and specific about the sanctity of even this tomb. If they made an exception for what was okay or not for this one grave, would they start to carve out exceptions for other graves as well? Better to leave all bones where they lay. And with all of the desecration and defilement already cast upon the Ala Mhigans in life and in death by the Garleans these past twenty-five years, this was a new sort of profanation.

Done by a Garlean, in body at least, in an Ala Mhigan graveyard still, but regardless.

Without another word, Lyse left, and the three soon followed.

Xiao took one last look back at the opened sarcophagus with a sigh. She didn't want to fight him again. Three times in person and one time in dragon was enough. Oh, there were times that her blood sang and her heart soared and her mind danced with the thrill of combat, but Zenos was just irritating by now. He could at least come up with better material. Alas, it seemed inevitable. It would be at least once more, at least twice more if an Ascian was involved. She could feel it.

Her attention darted to a nearby cliff. Movement. Was someone there? Had Zenos returned with his water?

No, all was still save the pitter-patter of the rain.

She joined the others.

***

Just out of view on that nearby cliff, an Elezen dressed in Ala Mhigan resistance livery was experiencing a new emotion for the first time outside of his usual set of utter ennui, mild annoyance, extreme battlelust, and blasé contempt.

He was incandescent with rage. Absolutely beside himself, not literally, with fury. That was his body! That was his aetherically charged corpse! How dare they take something so fundamentally and rightfully his! This was worse than finding out it had been altogether destroyed or defiled. At least then his story could have an end. No. Someone was out there puppeting his cadaver into positions that he quite possibly would never take, that he would find completely beneath him and his well sauced posterior. Otherwise, "Zenos" should have arisen to challenge the Warrior of Light again or at least to make sure the Warrior of Light was preparing for their next encounter. He would do no less.

She had fought him as a Warrior, a Ninja, a Red Mage, and a Dark Knight. What other tricks did she have waiting in the wings?

Death did little to change him, save that it transfixed one obsession. He would have the Warrior of Light bring her all to bear against him.

...And he also wanted a pitcher of water.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2023 #thancred waters #alisaie leveilleur #lyse hext #xiao longbao #a short scene #wordvomit

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite2023 Prompt #20 - Hamper

"And you! Why waste your final moments in futile defiance?"

Really, it was unseemly to gloat so, especially when victory was such a foregone conclusion. In a sense, he felt as if he were bullying upstart children who hadn't learned their place after all this time. Nay, even children could be reasoned with, albeit in rudimentary ways. These mortals were like particularly stubborn livestock. His assured triumph was still as hard earned as wrestling with a herd of keraunoi.

He was awake. Wide awake, actually awake. The first time in decades, he wasn't going through the motions and sleepwalking through this encounter, rousing slightly only to deliver a snarky remark based on whatever tidbit he overheard. No, he was all there, all present. He was absolutely, spectacularly livid, and utterly rock bottom disappointed.

And yet the vindication that he was going to feel as the so-called Warrior of Darkness crumbled into a monstrosity of light was going to be so delicious. Oh but only if there was more of an audience for the drama about to unfold! The Miqo'te would turn, and the direct exposure to all of that light aether would start to turn her allies as well. They would have to choose to futilely fight and risk turning into sin eaters, or find a way to off themselves or each other while they still had a form of reason and self. This sort of desperation, especially among friends and allies, this was the drama that Emet-Selch lived for. If only he had popcorn. His rage burned so hot he could likely pop the kernels through sheer force of will, but he wasn't in the mood to conjure them up. No, the grim satisfaction of watching these so-called Scions turn on each other as they became corrupted by the light was enough.

And yet, the Miqo'te continued shuffling forward, dragging her sword behind her.

"Oh, weary wanderer, you've no fight left to fight, no life left to live."

It came out as a taunt, but there was pity. Pity and a little bit of confusion. Why bother expending the precious little aether she had left that wasn't corrupted by light already? And to do what? Swing her oversized sword once at nothing? Even if Emet-Selch let her drive the slab of metal through this body, it would be little more than an inconvenience. He'd just have to go fetch another.

He could see her soul bursting at the seams with light aether, but she held together like a particularly hardy glass bottle falling down a flight of stone stairs. Each step taken was miraculous defiance against the natural order. A bit of unease gripped Emet-Selch's heart in the same way it would if he were waiting for a particularly overblown balloon to finally pop as it bobbled against a pin. He might actually change his tune a little if she was actually able to swing her sword.

Ah, but the Light would not be denied!

The Warrior of Darkness, radiating light aether like a particularly tiny and purple star, crumbled to her knees long at last. The glass bottle that was her soul finally cracked, and the momentum would surely cause her to shatter. Now here was the grand reveal. The Lightwarden to end all Lightwardens, born from the Warrior of Darkness. The irony would keep him fed for millennia. Several Rejoinings down the road, when his work was complete, he would still look fondly on the moons of plotting it took to engineer this monstrosity.

...And yet, he could not deny that he also felt the peculiar wish to help her up, dust her off. She was---

No. She was not. A poor reflection at best. He let his livid hatred and cruel satisfaction blot out those thoughts. This was yet another betrayal on her part. Even if Xiao wasn't aware of it, Emet-Selch could sense how it was in a way a tiny little bit of spite left over from her.

"Rise up in madness and fury! Devour the vermin infesting the land which is righfully ours!"

One of the fools leapt at him, a distraction easily seen through. He needed but a moment, ah, the little Oracle of Light was still fit to run it seemed. Emet-Selch was tempted to see what would happen, would she be consumed with light as she attempted to seal, thus eliminating any and all hope that remained, or would she make it in the nick of time?

No, it was better if the little Oracle was helped along. With a flick of his arm, he tossed the aetherically impaired one aside and with the return motion sent a blast of aether through the girl's center of mass. It wouldn't kill her out right and deny her turning into a sin eater, but it would prevent her from reaching the Miqo'te.

And then what? Where would the hero turn to next? Emet-Selch nearly wanted to stoop down to see what kind of expression Xiao was making, but getting so close to the Lightwarden-to-be could mean getting caught in the blast. Oh, he would be fine, but it would be a pain in his slumped shoulders and neck to retrieve another clone body at this time, especially when he wanted to see all of this through without interruption. No, better to watch everything fall apart for the would-be-heroes from a safe distance.

Well then.

The fireworks were about to begin.

As Xiao spewed liquid light from her mouth, Emet-Selch could see with his aethersight the very last of her aether, the thinnest bits that were barely holding her very form together, were now crackling with light like the rest of her. The Warrior of Darkness erupted in a geyser of aether. Oh, how would she transform? What brilliant and terrible and monstrous form would all of that aether take on?

It dazzled so much that Emet-Selch had to shield his eyes. All of this brightness was probably a migraine he'd need to sleep off in the very near future. He might switch out to another body just for that.

...Wait...

That hair, that posture, that mask...

Cruelties upon cruelties if the Lightwarden took on the image of---

No. His aethersight was caught up with afterimages again. All of this damned light! It wasn't her. And in a way, this was just one last petty betrayal before the very end of her latest mockery, her latest broken husk of a form.

...And yet, and yet the impossible occurred. The glass bottle struck the final step, cracked as it was, and then bounced once more. And it bounced back whole. The cracks mended. Still very full of light aether, and yet...

A part of him wanted to retreat, to lick the wounds to his pride, to reset and revise. It wasn't supposed to turn out this way, but he could afford to wait the fifty or so years that it took for this iteration of Hydaelyn's defiance to pass back into the Lifestream. Who knows, maybe once this incident was over, the fools would return to the Source and accidentally trigger the Rejoining there on their own.

No. He had entertained this little farce for far too long. It ended here and now. No more would his plans be stymied by this poor retelling of Azem's fate.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #FFxivWrite2023 #emet selch #wordvomit #a short scene

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite2023 Prompt #19 - Weal

Alisaie hit the ground hard, her cheek stung, and she could feel the blood rushing to it.

The collective gasp from their audience made her throw up a hand to fend off the sudden rush towards her. It was her own fault, she went too hard, moved too unpredictably, and her opponent instinctively reacted. Had they been using real foils, it would have taken out her eye, easily.

Xiao kneeled before her, and gently touched the cheek. Alisaie felt the aether pulse from Xiao's fingers into her face, rendering the skin both somehow hot and cold at the same time, but mostly itchy. Just like that, the only wound she had left was to her pride.

As part of the Crystarium's celebration of the defeat of the Lightwardens, the permanent return of the Night, and the triumph of the Warrior of Darkness, the entertainment for the evening would be an showcase of skills. Alisaie decided hers would be an exhibition match, and who better to demonstrate the fancy footwork and dexterous swordplay than the only other Red Mage on the First?

Or at least, Xiao was a part-time Red Mage. Wasn't much of any other kind of mage. She apparently was miserable at channeling her aether without a weapon or a specific crystalline focus. The staffs that other Mages (White or Black) wielded might as well have been kindling in her hands, and gods knew how miserable Xiao was with books of any kind, let alone as an arcane focus.

But she had no problem with empowering the swing of an axe or a mighty jump with a lance. She could raise an aetheric shield around her or an ally and even radiate with aetheric might... as long as she had something relatively pointy in hand.

In short, everything opposite to Alisaie. Spells and aetheric manipulation being second nature to the young Elezen, fencing and footwork less so. Casting and spellwork was just easier for her when her hands were free. Oh she worked hard, she drilled harder than any of her peers at the Studium, and her bladework was second to one.

That one was unfortunately the woman in front of her.

Xiao was not really one for flash and pizazz. Her armor was functional, her weapons were mainly practical and unadorned, her aetheric expenditure was unembellished. Quantity was her forte more than quality. And yet the trappings of the Red Mage had her dazzle with scintillating scarlet scorches and flips and tricks galore, not to mention the fancy foil flicks. It was all of the aggression and enmity of being the tank of the party channeled into glitz and spectacle. Never mind she didn't have the defenses or armor to ward off those blows. Alisaie had heard once Thancred grumble about how Xiao would still manage to tear enemies off him even while he was bashing their faces in because of the lights and explosions.

And really, all that coming from the otherwise unassuming violet-haired Miqo'te, to be awed by her strength and then blinded (sometimes literally) by the joy of her dualcast... How could she not?

It happened at some point during the liberation of Ala Mhigo. The feelings seeded by the gratitude that developed over the revelations uncovered together in the Coils blossomed into more than just admiration. The quiet and unassuming but stalwart Xiao started speaking more openly and kept finding little ways to surprise Alisaie. It helped that Xiao's relationship with Y'shtola was also a bit on the rocks at the time, giving Alisaie the room to fantasize just a little.

...There was the hero worship as well, and sometimes she had internal arguments as to whether it was more hero worship or a crush, though both elements were indeed present. She wondered how much it was that she was trying to emulate Xiao and how much it was that she wanted to be with Xiao. Did she wish to be Xiao's equal because she wanted to stand beside her as a hero of the realms or as a partner and lover?

Either way, it hurt her in a strange way to see Xiao fighting alone, standing alone. Sometimes when she thought no one was looking, the Warrior of Darkness looked so tired, the weight on her shoulders palpable. Y'shtola never cared for that kind of "hero" image and did her best to shirk the spotlight whenever she deemed necessary. Alisaie didn't blame her, even with all of the fantasizing, she understood how intimidating it would be to stand with Xiao. So many people saw her first as the Warrior of Light, of Darkness before they saw the Miqo'te. In fact, Alisaie would likely be just the type, gods know that her brother was no better, had she not spent that time with Xiao in the remnants of Dalamud. So with Y'shtola, having found and having gotten involved with Xiao long before she took on the mantle of Savior of Eorzea, Alisaie could but sympathize. Really, it was also a testament to Y'shtola's resilience to still venture forth into a relationship after all that had happened since.

Alisaie wished and hoped that she could strive and grind her way to that position, to be by Xiao's side, to be the one the Warrior of Light, of Darkness could depend on when realms across the shards now depended on her. To bring Xiao that happiness so rarely seen on her face save for when casting Vermilion Scourge.

And yet, despite all of her work, all of her struggle, she was so far away from her goal. Xiao saw her little more than a little sister, a beloved little sister, but that was it. Alisaie tried the trick of oversharing just a little to get the other person to open up on Xiao, multiple times even, and it had hardly worked. Whoever or whatever Xiao relied on when the responsibilities became too great, Alisaie could not fathom.

But she would still try. She would never give up. Even if the goal was indeed, in the end, not something she could reach, even if Xiao's happiness was not hers to ascertain...

She would still try.

No matter how rough it was on her pride in the meantime.

***

"Good as new?" Xiao said, pushing Alisaie's thoughts back to the present.

Alisaie grinned, "Right as rain." She tumbled backwards, pushed off with her hands for a flip, and popped back to her feet to the clamoring of the crowd. Xiao used her training foil to flick Alisaie's fallen foil into the air, where Alisaie caught it gracefully. Focus retrieved as well, Alisaie retook her fighting stance.

"Ready for another go?"

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #FFxivWrite2023 #alisaie leveilleur #wordvomit #a short scene

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite2023 Prompt #18 - A Fish Out of Water

The Sisters were a known entity to Y'shtola for the same reason a precocious child would be interested in tide pools. She never knew when something interesting would be dragged in. Whether it be someone or some rumor, Y'shtola thought it well worth the price of a finger sandwich or two at the Bismarck for the latest gossip.

V'kebbe did not speak as she was eating except to swear in enjoyment. Mercifully, she also ate rather fast. Woe betide the fool that got between V'kebbe and her sandwich.

As for Y'shtola, she had a sandwich herself, but presently only sipped tea. With the way that V'kebbe eyed Y'shtola's sandwich even as she was still shoving her own sandwich into her mouth, Y'shtola thought it wise to leave it as extra incentive.

V'kebbe chased what remained of her sandwich with some juice and let out a satisfied sigh.

"Damn well hit th' spot. Much obliged, Miss Y'shtola, a regular gentry-mort ye be."

"I'm delighted, I'm sure," Y'shtola put down her cup, "Now about this newcomer."

V'kebbe wiped her mouth more daintily than Y'shtola expected her to, "Aye, been floatin' betwixt us Sisters and th' Marauders'. One o' four survivors of a botched mutiny."

"Oh? A botched mutiny? And I didn't know the Sisters left survivors for mutinies."

Such was the nature of piracy. The captain's orders were law on the high seas, for the captain was the only member of the crew with a charter. To mutiny was to rise against the captain and thus the charter, and the charter was often the only thing keeping crews from attacking friendlies or other allied pirates. A crew greedy, foolish, or desperate enough to mutiny instead of finding common ground with the captain or toughing it out until the next port and leaving was dangerous to everyone else on the high seas. Except in the very rare case in which a captain was for whatever reason spared, successful mutinies aboard Lominsan ships were put down with impunity as soon as the relevant authorities caught wind of it. Retribution needed be swift, total, and utterly unpredictable, and it was often one of the Sisters or their sister organization that would do the deed.

That said, opposing a mutiny as it was occurring was generally suicide. The captain and the few that backed them would be put in the brig if they survived the initial encounter, but inevitably put to the blade soon after. Mutineers that could prove they were forced under sword or musket to go along with it were generally spared death and were sentenced instead to hard labor. However, as only the captain's word could vouch for a crew member, few could prove anything.

"No sense killin' pirates that ain't mutinous. And 'twas botched on th' account of this virago. Bloody sided with th' Capt'n against her own lover and the rest!"

Y'shtola's ear's perked, "How curious, a relationship onboard a pirate ship?"

"On a crew of all ewes too, a frigate o' frigates if ye please."

"'Tis indeed quite queer a circumstance. Pirates take lovers to strengthen their martial bonds as well as marital, do they not?"

"Aye, but this judy supposedly had a vision tellin' her it weren't right. Fought off the crew and barricaded herself, the captain, and two others in the captain's quarters. They held out 'til the Sisters caught up to the ship."

Y'shtola motioned to the waiter for another cup of tea, "A vision?"

"Sommat 'bout the leader o' the mutiny lyin' to seize the ship. No idea how the mort knew. Anyroad, she's not thrilled to be rubbin' elbows with the crew that croaked her lover. I could point ye in her direction if yer interested."

Y'shtola took one finger sandwich for herself to go with her tea, placing it on her saucer, and pushed the rest towards V'kebbe. "I'd be much obliged."

***

Y'shtola awoke under an unfamiliar ceiling, to unfamiliar walls, and in an unfamiliar position. Normally, she slept on her back or curled up against a pillow. Right now, she was in the arms of someone as the little spoon. It wasn't uncomfortable, per se, save that she could feel her back soaked in sweat.

Right. Xiao. Her person of interest. The pirate with visions. She had encountered the pirate investigating the same disturbance she was, even before following up on V'kebbe's lead. A rampaging Goobbue and a cryptic dagger later, she had invited the nearly-mute-save-for-some-cant pirate to a meal, and then, well, after having a bit too much to drink, they staggered to Xiao's room.

Really, perhaps it wasn't right to be taking advantage of a woman in such a vulnerable position, lost and directionless in a new city on the other side of the Star, having just lost a lover to a cruel sort of justice. But well, Y'shtola had urges like just about anyone else, and an evening spent staring at Xiao's loose shirt drawstrings and plunging neckline made Y'shtola very curious as to what shifting shapes lay under that linen. She was much rewarded for this curiosity upon curiosity. Xiao was more than decent in bed, despite the language barrier. She had endurance and strength enough to lift Y'shtola bodily even bells into the night, and her calloused fingers knew how to be rough and yet tender at once. Thus, despite the lack of experience, Xiao was able to sate Y'shtola of an itch that was left unscratched for longer than Y'shtola was aware of. In turn, the archon showed Xiao how cunningly skillful her lips and tongue could be at more than just words and easily kept well apace with the vivacious younger woman.

Now though, the one night stand had well enough passed into day, and Y'shtola needed to go. For a bath among other things.

Xiao finally stirred as Y'shtola had finished toweling off her sweat and redressed. She casually exposed herself in the mid morning sun with a stretch, leaving the older Miqo'te strangely proud to have bedded such a chiseled statuesque beauty. Her heart skipped a beat in a concerning way.

Gods, she needed to leave.

Xiao reached out to Y'shtola, for an embrace perhaps, or to keep her here for a while longer. Y'shtola adopted a conciliatory look and shook her head.

"A thousand pardons, Xiao, but I really should get going. I'll look fondly back at the time we shared."

"Y'shtola?"

"My investigations need continue afore the trail grows cold. Thank you for your assistance yesterday, but I believe you've been fairly compensated for your time."

Y'shtola tore her eyes from Xiao and walked swiftly to the door, but the pirate got out of bed and grabbed her from behind before Y'shtola could open it.

In a way, this was what Y'shtola was afraid of.

With gentle elbow nudging the ribs and a hand pushing away Xiao's face, Y'shtola twisted out of the embrace and held Xiao at arm's length.

"Really, I don't wish to lead you on any further than I already have. 'Twas purely a fling, a bit of physicality, that I desired. Nothing more."

Xiao wore the saddest, most pitiful look on her face.

"But who knows? Perhaps our paths will cross again." She offered Xiao a small smile, "Until then."

And then she slipped out of the room and shut the door after her. Feeling now comfortably alone and a lot less naked, she made her escape of those unfamiliar emotional confines that she desired not to trifle with.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #FFxivWrite2023 #y'shtola rhul #v'kebbe #y'shtola x wol #wordvomit

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite2023 Prompt #16 - Jerk

The grand doors shut, and Haurchefant remained seated. The air seemed to tingle, and it was not the doing of the draft let in. Nay, the air was still charged as if during a lightning storm. He imagined he could smell lingering whiffs of ozone.

At first blush, sure there was chemistry, but Haurchefant often had chemistry with passing adventurers. He was openly welcoming in such a cold place and up for quite a bit more than the average adventurer was expecting. The chaise lounge within his study was not just a place for a quick nap while buried in paperwork after all. He kept a discreet little package of boiled, preserved, and warded against disease lambskins in a desk drawer for specific reasons.

Not that he had any opportunity yet to use them with Xiao. Not that he had even gotten a kiss from her on the cheek, let alone anywhere more scandalous. But the thought, the intention, he was sure it was all there.

But in some strange kind of stand off, neither seemed capable of initiating.

Xiao was still not very verbal. Oh she understood every word from his mouth and then some, and reacted to his body language like they were dancing even from across the room, but she rarely spoke. She was much more open to gestures and touching. At some point, she started feeling comfortable resting her hand on Haurchefant's shoulder or side or thigh. In turn, Haurchefant was much more open to directing her by holding and moving her wrist, or placing a hand on her chin.

His jokes were often one sided, and she did little more than laugh at them, but he watched her lick her fangs or bite her lip, and he knew.

And well, he was wearing armor, so it was much more subtle, but when Xiao had a hand resting comfortably on his thigh much more readily than before and, well...

What he was able to ascertain was that it was intentional teasing.

But it also left him in quite a state sometimes. He would rise from his chair on unsteady legs, and shuffled a bit in his boots. When one of his knights had questioned it, he claimed it simply a cramp. Too much sitting at once could cause cramps, after all.

He often wondered if he should just cut to the chase and invite Xiao into his study for a more private conversation. Alas, Xiao was always on the move. She did stop by Camp Dragonhead whenever she was in the area specifically to check in with Haurchefant and fluster the both of them, but she was never around for longer than a bell or two. The boy, Alphinaud, was seeking to raise an army, and she was doing her part. Haurchefant had ascertained recently that Alphinaud was hardly aware that Xiao was bouncing around Eorzea on his behalf. He pleaded internally for Xiao to perhaps receive a longer leash. One night. Please.

Nay, he couldn't. The Scions were an asset to Camp Dragonhead, true, but it was not his place to give unsolicited advice. Besides, the rumors were already starting to circulate despite the fact that they had barely started to court one another. Aye, Xiao was also making a name for herself on this side of Coerthas by giving Estinien a good showing as a dragoon, but he wasn't well established enough as the stalwart bastion of the Highlands quite yet to risk such a scandal. Not only was she a foreigner who would never receive entrance into Ishgard proper, they would never let his family hear the end of it if it got out their bastard lusted over a Miqo'te, unless circumstances could be swung his way.

It was part of his idle thoughts now, figuring out how to have Xiao seen as not a scandal but a mark of pride, a paragon for House Fortemps, maybe. It was the same fine line that he found himself constantly treading. Oh, his dalliances were known, but as Commander of Camp Dragonhead, so long as nothing serious came of it and his subjects were in good humor, he was far away from the Pillars and Ishgard was well defended enough that even the most exacting of critics had no quarrel to give. Alas, had the Countess made peace with his father's infidelity, perhaps he would see things differently and be bolder.

So it was that his fantasies lead him to imagine Xiao being somehow declared a honorary Citizen of Ishgard, or wilder still, an Azure Dragoon. Oh how he would reward her for her work and dedication!

He was aware of her strength, the girth of her shoulders and thighs, the ease with which she brandished her horrendously top heavy axes, so heavy that grown Elezen men could only clumsily handle them, despite the size disparity. Though her armor was bulky, at other times, especially when running drills for the Camp, the heat from her skin rose like steam, and she would remove her plate to cool off.

Then he was beholden to the tightness of her waist, of which he wished to grab a hold of, feel the dense muscle barely give beneath the pads of his fingers. How he wished to pass his palm over the tidy rows that made up her abs, to encircle the slimmest part of her torso with his hands. He wondered if he could make his fingers touch and form a hand corset of sorts. And then his hands would drift south to spread against her hips...

He arose suddenly from his Commander's chair from which he had been staring at the same combat report for the past few chimes. The cramp had returned. He decided to go walk it off in his study.

He turned the lock and sloughed his mail shirt and plate. He unbuckled his gauntlets and boots and tossed them to the side. A quick break, to relieve himself of these thoughts and this distraction, then he would complete a bit of paperwork, and maybe look to supper.

He peeled his leather shirt and with it the linen one underneath and collapsed on the chaise. Perhaps one day he would find himself in a similar situation with Xiao, similarly garbed, straddling him. She'd pinned him before while wrestling during a demonstration of ground work in armor. Her weight was magnified by the armor she wore, no doubt, but it was not unpleasant. Oh, to feel that pressure, that burning heat on top of him...

Haurchefant's breath caught in his throat as he pushed and pulled at the thickness in his pants through the cloth. He unbuckled his belt, slipping both pants and smallclothes off his butt. It throbbed in time with his pulse with how worked up he was. He wicked excess moisture off on a finger and pushed his head back, closing his eyes, picturing again Xiao's exposed torso and the sweat that ran down it. Oh if he could rub his cheek in those abs, run his tongue across her navel, to taste her skin and sweat...

He recalled her hand, her fingers on his thigh, her grip on her axe... The twisting, pushing, and pulling she did on the shaft of her spear... How would she react if she were to find him in this state? How would she respond if she could hear the thoughts now racing through his head? He imagined the way her tongue would encircle her fang before licking at her lips with a devlish smile. Surely, surely she would not be content with just sitting there, letting him do all the work, so enthusiastic she was to touch and gesture...

With a shudder he curled in on himself, riding the wave as it crashed. A moment later he untensed, relaxing his body. Suddenly spent, he reached for a wash cloth that he kept by the chaise for reasons such as these. His body beaded with sweat, among other things, and he wiped himself down before redressing.

Haurchefant was as right as rain again, his mind cleared, his temperament returned to normal. He would be able to concentrate on his paperwork again.

At least until Xiao's next visit.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #FFxivWrite2023 #wordvomit #a short scene #haurchefant greystone #warning for spicy

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite2023 Prompt #15 - Portentous

Let fall the stars above. May fire streak across the sky above all of Norvrandt. Beautiful yet terrible, fleeting yet continuous, let all who would Hear her words, Feel her empathy, and Think courageous thoughts follow through. Become Warriors of Light, one and all.

Follow in the footsteps you have been provided, vanquish the foes before you, push the Shard back into motion from the stability that it has found. Right the wrongs carried out in the name of forestalling our rejoining, our reunion.

All together, we will complete our duty. We will find balance and order. We shall save the Star.

It was almost frightening simple, really. Elidibus had done this time and time again. Inspiring others came naturally to him. He did not recall where or why he became so passionate about becoming an inspiration, but it was important that he did and could. And when, in desperation, would be heroes faltered and did unconscionable things in the name of saving those around them, well, that was just as useful to him. A good hero made for an intimidating villain. The call to help save the Shard could easily push the Shard into ruin. The summoning of heroes could just as easily be used to destroy current heroes.

Seeking balance through imbalance.

A small voice in his head said that this was, in a way, ludicrous. How did one so devoted, so obsessed with duty, become so misguided?

Elidibus looked around, searching for the source of the voice. No, he recognized it, it was _____.

It was _____.

_____.

The name... it eluded him. He thought of all of the names and faces he could recall, conjuring as many as he could to the forefront of his mind.

Nothing. Worse than nothing, a lacuna. The distinct realization that there ought to be something there. Had it just been nothing, perhaps he could ignore it or write it off as just a strange fluke he had picked up.

...Yes, not only did he recognize the voice but have no name or face for it, he recalled it was not the first time he heard the voice speak recently.

Now when was it that he last heard it?

Come now, Elidibus, have you forgotten your own inspiration? The one you looked up to? Where did this love for grand gestures and dramatic flare come from? Was it Emet Selch?

_____.

It was like trying to grab a hole in the dirt and pick it up. Who was it?

Elidibus, it is clear you remember your title and that you are duty bound, but do you remember your name? Do you remember what you are duty bound to?

He laughed, of course he remembered his name. It was ______.

______.

No. His name was ______.

No, no no. This would not do! ______ was his name. That voice was of _____. His duty... Guide the star, restore Zodiark and those lost to his summoning. And then... And then...

It did not matter what his name was, his title was Elidibus. He would maintain balance and ease the quarrels of his brethren. He will see his duty through to the end. This he swore...

Who did he swear to?

_____.

He swore something to _____. He was sure of it.

And _____ gave him a bit of woven thread, a charm, to help guide him if he ever felt as if he had lost his way, to reassure him that he would find it again. He tied it around his wrist and kept the thread with him always.

And when he left Zodiark's heart, _____ was gone, and so was the thread, but he still felt _____'s presence, there was a bit of aether left over that stuck to him, that still helped guide his path.

He knew _____'s name then. How could he have forgotten?

_____ had called him ______ as long as they were outside the walls of the Convocation. _____ felt the titles were stiff and impersonal. That names told stories much better. The Elidibus before him may have served the same role, but he guided, judged, and maintained balance in very different manner.

And now, the voice said, how is it that you are to guide anyone or find your path or serve as judicator or fulfill your duty when your memories are so shattered? How can you continue to fight when you have naught to fight for? How can you look down upon these sundered souls when you yourself are so empty?

The crystal.

He re-examined the white and red shard. Was this infernal thing triggering the voice? Was he somehow envious of the misbegotten rift-traveling crystal shard? He would have destroyed it had it not proven so useful. Did it have other secrets to bear?

As he looked into the memories of a future yet to pass, the voice bid him turn around. But he did not need to turn around to recognize the aetheric mass that headed towards him.

The Warrior of Light.

_____.

No, why did that lacuna come to mind? What did _____ have to do with the Warrior of Light?

All of this was troubling, but first, he had to take care of the pest before him.

Ah yes, speaking of. The voice most recently spoke to him while he was fighting the Warrior of Light. Perhaps she was the trigger. More the reason to put her down for good.

This would be their final fight. Elidibus would make sure of it.

#ffxiv #ffixivwrite #FFxivWrite2023 #wordvomit #a short scene #elidibus

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite2023 Prompt #14 - Clear

Mettius felt in the pit of his stomach a drop as if into a small cage with a large hungry bear in it.

There, standing in winter gear, was Van Baelsar's Bane. The Abattoir of Ala Mhigo, the Butcher of Bozja, the Savior of Savages, the Killer of Men.

The Warrior of Light.

Gnaeus grabbed him from behind as he almost tripped over his own feet, "Courage, Lord Mettius, courage."

"We've been duped. These savages seek to take everything from us, we'll be lucky to return to the Senatus with our lives."

"If that were the case, do you think young Jullus would lead us right to them?"

"They've magicked him, altered his mind to bend to their aetheric wiles. I've not held a weapon in twenty-five years. We don't stand a chance. Oh why didn't we bring more soldiers?"

Gnaeus shook him slightly, "Get a hold of yourself. Do you really think the Ilsabard contingent would go through moons of this song and dance only to fatten us for the slaughter here and now? Why bother pretending and continuing to pretend to seek to entreat? If we are to meet our end, wouldn't it just be the Warrior of Light alone with her monstrous cleaver drawn?"

Her cruel blade was indeed strapped to her back, but it seemed she was escorting a Thavnairian of some repute based on the finery of his winter wear. He wore only a ceremonial sword at his waist, as Mettius knew Thavnairians of status were oft to do. Besides these two was a curious figure, he could not tell if they were man or woman, masculine of attire, but feminine of face. They wore a scythe that he recognized as that of a Reaper, one of Garlemald's elite assassins. All told, it didn't make sense for a kill squad. The Warrior of Light did not leap at them or indeed move in any sort of threatening manner. Rather, she seemed to defer to the Thavnairian.

Regardless, the Warrior of Light's presence was just short of a declaration of war.

***

Imagine nearly a century of victories and conquest, a people triumphant, the world united within their grasp, peace and prosperity for all... And in the course of five years, so much of it was undone.

Oh, there was civil war and horrific unrest and brothers killing brothers on the home front, that is not to be denied, but the empire frayed on the fringes because of one individual in particular.

It started in Eorzea, a united effort on all accounts, but the reports from the Castrum Meridianum and the fallout of the disastrous defense of the Praetorium and the Ultima Weapon seemed to make reference to the same individual many fold. The Gration, stranded and grounded so far away in Azys Lla, reported sightings of the same individual. But these were Eorzean territories, untouched by Garlean rule, yet to be conquered.

And then she started appearing in Garlean conquered and claimed territories. It was then that the Crown Prince took a shine to her, and there were those that assumed it would be the end of it.

It would not be so. Zenos was said to have died in Ala Mhigo, even as he reappeared in Garlemald. The individual was dubbed the Eorzean Weapon, the Aetheric Monster. From the masses arose the moniker that would stick, the Warrior of Light. Anywhere she was rumored to have appeared, morale bled. Anywhere she was confirmed to have struck, even full-blooded Garlean soldiers would flee. Everywhere, it seems, the non-citizenry of Garlemald took her appearance as a sign to stir and rise up. Once docile and fully tamed populations roused on the word of unconfirmed sightings within their borders. Even naturalized citizens were not unaffected by her appeal.

In short, her sighting in Garlemald proper was no less than the sounding of the final bell. Garlemald was finished. Death was here.

The Garleans would not entreat accompanied by a Magitek Vanguard, so why were they expected to sit calmly with the Warrior of Light at their throats?

And yet, except when attacked first, the Warrior of Light never drew her weapon, and the weapon was never used upon Garleans. Magitek, wildlife, and escaped experiments were put to the blade, yes, but it was only in defense of others. How difficult it must have been to dole out aid and succor with claws meant to rend and murder!

Still, her presence was more than enough to drive even great men like Quintus to the deepest pits of despair. How shameful it was that even the Tenth Legion laid down their arms to the Eorzeans without a fight!

***

And yet as Mettius gathered himself after his initial panic, he noted a lack of malice, or indeed any sort of murderous intent. Jullus had none of the signs of aetheric manipulation, he was bright eyed and slightly apprehensive. The Thavnairian and the Reaper were also not known acquaintances of the Warrior of Light, the so-called "Scions."

So he decided he would not be intimidated. Forcibly, he'd make his position on Eorzean conquest explicit and unambiguous, citing the rules of war, conquest, and the spoils thereof.

The presence of the Eorzean Menace would not cow him.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #FFxivWrite2023 #wordvomit #a short scene #garleans #lord mettius

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite2023 Prompt #13 - Check

"Thancred."

It was a cold night in the Rak'tika Greatwood, the first in a century.

"Yes, Xiao?"

"May we speak in private?"

Light aether continued to swirl around Xiao. It was starting to settle now, but she was lit up still like a Starlight decoration.

Thancred scowled, he had an inkling of why Xiao would be reaching out, but he still agreed.

They found a quiet corner of Slitherbough out of earshot of everyone else, and Xiao reminded Thancred of his oath.

"I need to make sure we're on the level."

Thancred grimaced, "This is about the time I took you aside after I had recovered from Lahabrea's possession, isn't it."

"Aye, I swore to strike you down next you were not yourself and you were endangering the Scions."

It felt so long ago. Even more distant than it was for Xiao after Thancred's five years on the First.

But that wasn't what was relevant here.

"Indeed, and I swore likewise for you."

Xiao swung her arms wide in presentation. The halo of light encompassed her whole body, as if she were still lit up by a sunbeam this deep into the evening. "This can't be good," she said.

"...I agree, it cannot."

"If it gets worse, if I can't control it, need you to honor that swear."

Thancred wished to swear as it was, "Of course." He said instead.

"Don't let Y'shtola know."

"Keeping secrets from her now?"

"If she were made aware, she'd try to stop you or stop me. When you put me out of my misery, let it be a swift and sudden strike that no one sees coming."

He chuckled darkly, "Ah yes, what's a little backstabbing between friends?"

Xiao set her jaw, "Also, please don't leave it to Y'shtola."

"She's said on many occasions that she'd enjoy killing you with her own hands, why deny her the pleasure?"

"Thancred."

He sighed, "Bloody hells, Xiao, things have gotten more complicated. This is no longer just a preventative oath between comrades."

She looked down to break eye contact, "I've thought long and hard about this. I don't think she could do it, truth be told, even if it was no longer me. But if she did find the will to force herself, still don't wish her with my blood on her hands. 'Twould destroy her."

"And what of the other Scions, what about Alphinaud and Alisaie? What about Minfilia?"

Xiao met his eyes again, "She's the complication, isn't she?"

Thancred huffed, "No, no, what would they think once the deed was done? Should I explain to them all that we had agreed long ago to put one another out of our respective miseries? A murder pact? How do you think they'd take it?"

"When the time comes, think'll be clear what had to be done."

"Cold comfort for the rest of us," he drew his gunblade and placed its edge against Xiao's neck, "A single swipe above the shoulders, quick and deadly."

"Let it not come to that, but yes."

"Aye, godsforbid."

***

Thancred did not strike her down after she absorbed Innocence. Between G'raha's abduction and all of the Scions acting as a whole, he didn't have the chance. Ryne sealed the Light within Xiao, but he could see how it changed her. Xiao's hair was as dry and brittle as straw, the streak of lighter purple on her front locks was a now pure white. Her skin seemed faded, like fabric left out to bake in the sun.

When they got back to the Crystarium, Y'shtola described grimly how Xiao's smallclothes seemed bleached and the material was as stiff as parchment. The washcloths they used to mop up the Light aether that seeped from her body were burned along with the smallclothes.

Y'shtola, Ryne, and Alisaie were the ones that primarily kept tabs on Xiao as she slept when they were not out seeking solutions themselves. Each of them left Xiao's chambers with patchy bits of skin on their hands, and that skin would split, peel, and slough off.

"Does it hurt?" Thancred asked once while applying ointment and bandages to Ryne's bleeding palms.

"It doesn't. That's what's most worrying. When I do a sealing, when I wipe her body down of light aether, I expect my palms to sting, but I hardly feel anything at all." Ryne looked into Thancred's eyes, pleading, "Do you think Xiao will survive this?"

Thancred looked away, "She's very tough. Even under such circumstances, I'd say she has good odds still."

"What if she turns?"

"I'll take care of it."

"Thancred, what does that mean?"

He looked back to Ryne's horrified expression. Gods be good. He couldn't do it. Not in front of Ryne. Not after all they've been through.

"...Xiao and I came to an understanding, an agreement, on what should happen." He smiled, "We have a plan."

Ryne got quiet in the way she used to get quiet when she suspected Thancred was mad at her. It only now dawned on him that she did this also when she suspected Thancred wasn't being honest with her.

***

Y'shtola slowed down her pace, and spoke once he was at her side, "Thancred, a word."

"What's on your mind, Master Matoya?"

This earned him a little kick to the side of the leg.

She continued while he feigned injury and tenderly rubbed his shin, "What's going on between you and Xiao?"

"Pardon?"

"The entire trip from the Ondo Cups, she's been trying to get your attention, but only when my back is turned."

In all of Xiao's preoccupation, she seemed to have forgotten her lover needn't direct her eyes to see.

"I haven't the foggiest."

"Please, even without aethersight, I could sense the desperation off her."

Y'shtola was worried. They all were, but Y'shtola was worried differently. Xiao had been avoiding Y'shtola in small ways ever since she reawoke. Xiao had never been the type to pass up a chance to bathe in Y'shtola's undivided attention, and yet...

"...There are certain matters that Xiao left to my discretion."

Y'shtola clicked her tongue, "I'd expect Urianger to keep secrets from the rest of us, but you too?"

He didn't know if that was an insult, but he did feel a bit insulted that he was so quickly seen through, "All told, 'tis a small thing."

"Will you act upon it?"

He could feel Y'shtola's aethersight boring holes into his skull. He looked at Ryne talking with Alisaie, and Xiao further up ahead, her sights on the grand marble building that loomed before them.

Thancred watched as Xiao spat out a bit of light and wiped her mouth on her gauntlet. He pictured a single swift slice across her nape. His mind echoed with the memory of Ryne screaming as a villager turned into a sin eater in front of her some years back.

He grit his teeth.

"I am nothing if not a man of my word."

***

Thancred's ears rang and his head ached. He quickly assessed his surroundings, the twins were down, Y'shtola and Urianger were out cold, Ryne was squirming and struggling to arise...

And Xiao was stumbling towards Emet Selch, dragging her sword behind her. If the bastard was still pontificating, Thancred could not hear it over the ringing. He helped Ryne to her knees as he arose himself, keeping an eye on Xiao---

With the sound of cracking glass, she was inundated in light aether once more. The seals Ryne had placed failed. Xiao was left on her hands and knees, her body wracked with pain, and with each shuddering heave, she vomited even more light aether.

Thancred drew his gunblade. It was time. Time to fulfill his oath to Xiao.

He looked back at Ryne one last time, and smiled sadly.

"I can do it. I can seal Xiao back up," she said, a look of determination on her face the likes of which Thancred had never seen before.

"You can?"

"I will."

Thancred looked back at Xiao, then at Emet Selch, then back to Ryne.

"That's my girl."

He leapt, not for Xiao's backside, but a target just beyond.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #FFxivWrite2023 #wordvomit #story #thancred waters #xiao longbao #ryne waters #y'shtola rhul

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite2023 Prompt #12 - Dowdy

It was quite strange, was it not? If she were to prance around in her nameday suit, there would be many looks and double takes and undoubtedly jeers and name calling, but no one would dare call her "frumpy" or "shabby." But throw on a comfortable though formless sweater and loose pantaloons, and suddenly it felt like the world was staring and judging and perhaps scoring. What was worse, willing away her aethersight and being guided by the arm through the streets only would reveal that the looks and judging was coming from inside herself.

So when it was a day that she wanted simply to be comfortable rather than fashionable, especially on rainy days with nothing urgent going on, Y'shtola preferred to stay in.

A book, some tea, a loose sweater, and just smallclothes. She curled up on the sofa and listened to the rain. What more could she want? Maybe some music. She set the orchestrion to a light and playful piano piece, reminiscent of the lullabies of the First. With the return of the night there, she had gained a new appreciation for these kinds of melodies. The pitter-patter of rain against the windows complemented the slow piano and warm tea. Curled up as she was, her tail over her feet and her knees up in her sweater, she yawned languidly... and soon fell asleep.

She awoke to the thud of cleaver splitting a thick cut of meat.

The couch was catty-cornered to the kitchen and Y'shtola could see Xiao's head over the counter, her back turned. From the neat bow around her neck, Y'shtola surmised the violet Miqo'te was wearing her apron.

"Xiao? What brings you here? Weren't you in Bozja?"

"Awake are you? Aye, but the fighting's died down somewhat after we captured a Castrum, so I thought I'd take a day off to surprise you." She continued chopping the pork belly.

Y'shtola suddenly remembered herself and pulled her legs out of her sweater. Oh, this would never do, did she at least have pants at hand? "Had you let me know you'd be stopping by, I'd have worn something more comely."

Xiao gave her a half glance and a raised eyebrow, "Dimber mort like you worried about the likes of little o' me?" She scooped the chopped meat up with the cleaver to pop into a pot of boiling water, "'Sides, would hardly be a surprise if I let you know."

True, and Y'shtola did hand Xiao her spare keys in case the mood struck her to show up unannounced. Y'shtola had the spare key to Xiao's apartment as well, but it was in the Empyreum, malms away from the generally sunny and almost tropical coastal fare that Limsa had to offer. It was worth the expenditure of aether to return to her own apartment generally, save when there was an extended trip necessary to Ishgard. Xiao barely roomed there at any rate, so busy she was. It was more of a place to drop off gifts for the Warrior of Light and a bed to crash on if she couldn't be bothered to visit the Fortemps Manor.

"Well, I would have at least washed my face this morning, 'tis still unbecoming of a lady to be seen in such a state of undress."

"Milady, I have seen you in far more provocative states of undress." She set the cleaver in he sink and washed her hands, wiping them on the apron.

"But that was how I chose to appear to you. 'Twould be a completely different matter to catch me in the bath."

Xiao chuckled at this. "Hardly have I considered how intentional the presentation of yer lovely form has been. I have been quite remiss." She turned to start up a second burner under a wok and tossed in oil and sugar.

Y'shtola saw then that Xiao had but her smallclothes on under the apron.

"My dear, don't tell me you arrived like that!"

Xiao looked down and then back up at Y'shtola, "Not at all, I left my armor, leathers, and boots by the door. Didn't want to track mud and gore into your nice apartment." Her top was stained, mostly with sweat, and her shorts were rather worse for wear. She had likely gone a few days without bathing or a change of clothes while on campaign.

Well, it said just about all that needed to be said about Xiao's feelings towards presentation and intentionality. Had it been Y'shtola, she'd have at least the decency to bathe and change her clothes before surprising Xiao. She thought of what Xiao had said about her life growing up, how clothing was more of a suggestion than a requirement, with only bits that needed to be tucked away or secured from jostling considered. For Xiao, with her musculature and sunbaked skin, it mainly meant she wore a skirt on most days for a bit of modesty. There was still a need to dress up a bit while dealing with foreigners, sailors, and suitors, of course, but there were days on end when there would be nothing but the sun and the sea.

Beyond Master Matoya, Y'shtola had the constant eyes of her peers to fend off. Matoya mainly cared that Y'shtola avoided making a fool out of herself with her dress and appearance. Her peers cared about fashion. She found herself rehemming her dresses and hiking up her skirts and socks to fit in and meet the approval of the other girls. Later it became a matter of getting the boys to notice without looking desperate to get the boys to notice. At a certain point, Y'shtola made a purposeful effort to buck the trends and dress primarily for comfort and practicality, but that was more of satisfying her own inner critic rather than bowing to the voices of the majority.

Here and now, Xiao flabbergasted her inner critic enough to make it shut up entirely. Y'shtola felt freed, at least temporarily. She arose from the couch and reached out for an embrace and a kiss.

Having received both, she quickly backed off from Xiao, "Dearest, you stink."

"Ah. Well." Xiao turned back to the boiling pot, and ladled out the meat into the wok, "Didn't think it through, I guess." She seemed a bit embarrassed.

"I'll go prepare a bath, and you'll let me know how to continue cooking that pork you've been preparing. Then we'll swap, I'll cook while you scrub yourself down."

"I haven't a change of clothes."

"Well, I hope you'll find another way to make yourself presentable, then." Y'shtola broke into a suggestive smile, "And mayhaps I will be sampling more than just one sort of meat tonight."

Xiao almost spilled the soy sauce over herself.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #FFxivWrite2023 #a short scene #wordvomit #y'shtola rhul #xiao longbao #y'shtola x wol