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thevoilinauttheory · 3 years

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[ i’m not one to really give my opinions on games in my tumblr

but i was replaying through 5.3 (and some thoughts visiting 5.0 again) on maximiloix to get him caught up and g o d do i just have... a little bit to say (funny, really) but there’s spoilers, and i know a couple people who follow me who haven’t done it yet - so i’mma put it under the cut for anyone interested in my rambles ]

[ so. like.

first. still sobbing about 5.3 and its build up, and don’t think i’ll ever get over it, especially after doing it a second time. knowing what’s going to happen, i think made it almost worse - it made all those conversations make sense and its just. hhhhh i love it so much.

next. the solo instance where elidibus takes you through amaurot fighting the people from your past adventures, the people you’ve grown to care about and love. g o d when i did that the first time, i think i literally cried. my heart hurt so much and i just wanted to refuse to fight.

but there’s a reason why maximiloix is in a group in the wol!au i have... because. if it were just him going through, just him as the wol. that part wouldn’t have hurt him. he probably would’ve responded with something like “i’m flattered you think i care” or like “i don’t think you know me as well as you think you do” and then just slaughter them all anyways with zero hesitation (honestly, if it came down to it, he probably would only hesitate with alphinaud, alisaie, or ryne - they’re kids! they didn’t ask for this! but, uh. that’s just hesitation. maybe like thirty seconds later he’d go “aw fuck it”). maximiloix would make the worst wol if he were traveling on his own with no one to keep him in check. i just found that so funny to me.

if it were just him, he honestly prolly wouldn’t be a wol. he would’ve sided with the ascians hands down without hesitation. if it wasn’t before, then it definitely would’ve been with amaurot - he probably would’ve dropped his weapon and go “yeah, that makes sense”... and then leave it be. and if he didn’t, whatever semblance of a heart he has left would have gone out to them as he learned more... even more so when he would realize that elidibus was just a child at the heart of it all. (that part really fucked me up for a bit)

--- HOKAY. THIS CUT IS TO TELL YOU THERES SOME THOUGHTS I HAVE ON THE 5.0 DRAMA TRAIN, AND I JUST WANT TO WARN YOU SO YOU CAN SKIP IT AND SCROLL PAST REAL FAST ---

obvs really late to the party here, mostly because severe anxiety and i don’t like getting caught up in shit like this

so. i saw a lot of posts going around at the time of 5.0 talking about “i hate emet-selch so much why would i want to fucking remember you” or “nope just gonna forget it cause fuck you” - i can understand peoples’ dislikes of emet-selch, as like, a person (as a character, damn. that’s some good writing and you can’t deny that) - yeah, he’s a fascist. he’s an absolute dick. there’s no atoning for shit like that irl but.

its like. my first thought reading all of that was.

“do people have reading comprehension? like. at all?”

he wasn’t saying “remember me”, he was saying “remember us” , y’know. remember that there were people before you. remember that our people suffered greatly because you are our legacy. remember not to repeat the mistakes of the past. remember all of these people that gave their lives to give you yours.

“history is learned, not lived”

literally from the game itself. this whole game is littered with gems like that. absolutely full of relatable lines, whether they be comedic or serious. this game is filled with so much that can be applied to our own lives.

“to take action is to hope. to believe-- to choose to believe, is to take the first step towards a brighter future.” “but if i may give voice to a personal desire... i rather you lived.” “the time left to you is precious” “if it is folly to hope, i am content to die a fool” “but come, turn your gaze to the window, my friend. the rains have ceased and we have been graced with another beautiful day”

“remember us. remember that we once lived.”

and so many more!! even the lyrics of some of the songs are so beautifully written and full of raw emotion that at some point, we can resonate with them.

there’s a post going around... talking about how, as people, we are desperate to be remembered. we write in diaries, we keep receipts of complaints from customers when they diss you about your poor-quality copper, we make etchings on walls of the days passed and our heights as we grow, we leave behind memoirs of times lost to us. so many of us strive for greatness... because we want to be remembered. we want to be learned. we want to be heard. we want our names to be remembered, our stories and our voices... and none of us will see that in the end. sure. family will be there - your pictures will be hung for the next few decades... but after it all? no one’s going to remember who you were in fifty, eighty, a hundred, a thousand, a million years from now. so the best we can do is to preserve what we have. to immortalize the tiny pieces of ourselves. the shitty artwork you drew when you were five, the remains of torn books and libraries, dirty figurines, hell - even the stains left in the walls and carpets of your old home. we make time capsules for a reason. all of us, collectively, are screaming out: “i lived! remember me, please! i was here, i lived, i learned, i loved! i cried, i got embarrassed, i got angry - but i was here! please remember me - remember us!”

is that not the same of what he’s saying? he doesn’t care if you remember him specifically. (would it matter to him? maybe? he’s a fictional character y’all, i can’t speak for his writers) but the message isn’t to remember him and all the things he did in his life. it was to remember that they were people. they tried their best. they failed, but they tried. and they existed. they loved. they cried. they grew. they mourned. they made mistakes.

it really peeves- maybe not in a “makes me angry sense”, but kinda annoys- me, even now, that people would throw away such an amazing message... simply because a fictional character did bad things in a fictional world, or just didn’t like them, said it. it really is a beautiful and terrifyingly sad message that people didn’t seem to get because they were focused on who said it. this is a sentiment everyone has shared, even if they didn’t know it.

for me, it really spoke. shadowbringers is, and was, one of the best expansions, i’ll say it. not just for the story but for the overall message of it. it’s fantastic. and i really hope that the people who made those comments - they won’t read this, i don’t think - but... i hope the rest of the expansion after that moment gave them that realization.

sorry for that huge vent/rant y’all. i just, that had been burning in my head for so long now and i finally got the words to say it. if you read through it all, thank you! and please don’t spread negativity on this subject. if you want to say something negative, just move on, please. it’s not worth my nor your time. you can make your own post about it, just don’t leave it on mine.

but seriously, thank you for going through all this. and trust me, it may not matter now - but i’ll remember you. i will. i’ll remember the wonderful people here in the small ways i do. ]

#ooc #ffxiv #5.3 spoilers #5.3 #shadowbringers spoilers #shadowbringers #5.0 spoilers #5.0 #little bit of uh #okay #maybe a lot of a rant at the end #but i feel things so much #and i needed to let those feels out #put my thoughts down and everything #because like everyone #i want to be remembered too

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raelly-writing · 3 years

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Departures

Thancred/f!WoL with Alisaie&WoL. Takes place before the patch 5.3 segment of Bozja. SFW :) I feel a bit rusty and have struggled with writing something I feel happy with, but wanted to try and finish something at least so I can move on to other stuff.

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“I still wish I could go with you.”

Alisaie’s exasperated tone made Viana look up from her travel pack to offer the young woman a small smile. “And I’d love to have you,” she replied earnestly. “Both of you.”

She looked over her shoulder to Thancred where he was seated by her desk. Clearly sensing her eyes on him, he looked up from her gunblade. The furrow between his brows deepened, but he turned his attention back to carefully cleaning out the disassembled chamber.

Not that he needed to say anything; it was obvious he shared Alisaie’s sentiment, though he knew there was no point in him trying to argue for it. Without a word, he’d taken her gunblade from her and sat down to clean it while she packed the rest of her things ahead of leaving early the next morning.

Sighing, Viana walked over to her cabinet. “But as much as I may want to have you by my side out there, I wager Krile would sooner physically restrain the lot of you than let you travel to a warzone.” She frowned at the small rack holding the pre-prepared potions, and picked up two healing ones, leaving one vial behind. Making a mental note to ask Tataru for a restock, she turned back towards Alisaie, just as she with a huff settled down on the bed, next to the open bag.

“But I feel fine.”

Viana snorted and raised an eyebrow. “You say that now,” she retorted as she put the vials into their designated leather travel case. The antidote vial in the case was still nearly full so no need to get more of that at least. “But you don’t know how you’ll feel after a few nights of poor sleep, and several hours of fighting. A few starved and desperate gryphons are a far cry from an imperial legion and magitek units.”

“She’s right,” Thancred chimed in, his tone the same firm, matter-of-fact one he would usually take when he and Ryne were disagreeing on something. He didn’t look up from the cylinder he was reassembling as he continued, “We’re all still recovering physically. If we were out there, we’d be a source of distraction, and not nearly to as much help as we might want to believe.”

Alisaie threw him a sour look, like she felt betrayed by him not siding with her on the matter. For a moment, it looked like she might argue with him, but instead, she turned her head to glare down at the floor. “I know. I just…” She bit her lip, her shoulders tense as she dug her fingers into the bed cover. “I don’t like sitting here, useless,” she continued, her voice tense. “Especially when you’re walking into yet another warzone, and this time, you won’t have Lyse, or Yugiri and Hien, or anyone else you know and trust there to back you up. The last time I should have been...” She fell silent, but the unsaid words hung heavy in the air.

Viana paused, her chest knotting with sympathy and a faint unease - the memory of Ghimlyt still haunted them both it seemed. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Thancred’s hands briefly still, before he continued tinkering with her gunblade.

“You’re not useless,” she responded firmly as she walked back to the bed.

It did nothing to make Alisaie relax or cease with her attempt to glare a hole into the floor. Attempts at coddling were never appreciated by her, that much Viana knew. Hells, at that age, she’d never liked it when people older than her had tried to talk down to her either. But youthful eagerness to leap into the next fray, heedless of one’s limits, was always something to look out for, and gently but firmly redirect elsewhere.

Reaching out, she put a hand on Alisaie’s shoulder and squeezed. “The best you can do right now,” she continued, “is what will make your recovery the swiftest it can be. Running headlong into an dangerous situation may at best result in you pushing yourself beyond what you’re capable of at this moment, or at worst, you might injure yourself and just set yourself back even more.”

Finally, Alisaie looked up, their eyes meeting. For a moment, her brow remained creased and mouth pressed together in a thin line, until finally the steel in her gaze softened a little. “Well, I suppose moping about it won’t do you or me any good.”

Relieved to see her mood shift towards something better, a crooked smile quirked the corner of Viana’s mouth. “No it won’t.” When she felt Alisaie’s shoulder relax, she gave it another squeeze before letting her hand drift off it. “Besides,” she continued while lowering her voice, not really trying to keep herself from being overheard in the stillness of the room, “someone’s got to make sure Thancred doesn’t slack off while I’m gone.”

“I heard that.”

Thancred’s deadpan voice made them both burst into quiet laughter. And with that, the air felt a little less thick with tension.

As her laughter subsided, Alisaie’s posture relaxed completely. “Fine, I get what you mean.”

“I’m glad,” Viana replied and turned back to the parts of her gear lying on the bed. Picking up the bag she usually attached to her belt, she put the case with the potion vials inside it as she continued speaking, “Hien and the rest of Doma might not be able to aid the resistance directly, but Yugiri volunteered to personally run any messages I might have for you all. Alphinaud knows how to get in touch with her as well, should the need arise.”

“It’d be good to see her again,” Alisaie responded, her voice soft and a bit more cheerful.

Viana made a quiet, humming noise of agreement while continuing to pack some spare clothes into her bag. “Wager she feels much the same.”

A comfortable silence settled over them for a short moment, until Alisaie spoke up once more, “You’re leaving early, right?”

“I am, yes.”

A smile broke out on her features as she stood up from the bed. “I’ll leave you to finish packing then. Come say good-bye before you go?”

With a soft laugh, Viana nodded. “I promise. Sleep well.”

“Good night, Alisaie,” Thancred said lightly, his attention still on the gunblade.

Alisaie paused with one hand on the door handle and glanced back at Thancred. “Don’t keep her up for too long while ‘saying good-bye’.”

There was a sharp pling of metal hitting metal accompanied by a startled noise, barely audible under Viana’s scandalised shout of the young elezen woman’s name. Before either of them had time to formulate a reply, Alisaie had already slipped out the door with a cheerful “Good night!” thrown over her shoulder.

Viana crossed her arms and stared at the closed door, her cheeks burning furiously. Of course she held no illusions whether Alisaie, or any of the others, remained oblivious to what was going on between her and Thancred - the sly quips and jabs from all of them made that quite clear - but the blatant insinuation had caught her entirely off-guard.

A heavy sigh from behind her made her turn to look towards Thancred just as he leaned down to pick up the small metal ring he’d apparently dropped. “Perhaps I should count myself lucky that she mostly holds her tongue in public,” he grumbled. “Not sure the shreds of my dignity would survive.”

It was hard not to quirk a smile at his grumpy tone. “She just enjoys teasing you.” A glimmer on the floor in the lantern light caught her attention and she moved to pick up a screw that had rolled out onto the floor. “Well, both of us, I suppose,” she added softly as she walked over to him.

Thancred murmured a ‘thank you’ when she placed the screw in his hand, but before she had a chance to return to pack the last of her things, he swiftly wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her down into his lap.

Viana huffed out a quiet laugh through her nose, but he silently returned to reassembling the cleaned components, arms on each side of her.

“Not exactly the most productive working position,” she commented softly as she rested her arm over his shoulders and idly drew random patterns onto his back with her fingers.

“Works well enough, my dear,” he replied in that effortless, well-practised tone she knew was meant to mask whatever feelings he truly had.

She pursed her lips as she watched him work. For a moment, she considered calling him out on his bluff. It wasn’t as if they could avoid speaking of it. Which, if she guessed right, was precisely why he’d caught her like this in the first place. Sighing quietly, she dropped a kiss to the top of his head while still stroking his back.

Thancred’s hands stilled for a second, before he turned his head and pressed his cheek against her chest, the arm around her back tensing. “A moment.”

She replied with a quiet hum and brushed her fingers over the nape of his neck, her eyes still on his hands. Usually she quite enjoyed watching him work like this; to just quietly observe his nimble fingers twist and turn the small components of a gunblade, fiddle with a lockpick, or merely playing with whatever piece of string or fabric that might be within reach while he was completely absorbed in a book.

Stuck as he’d been reading his old journals and Riol’s reports to refresh and catch up on events in his absence, learning the ins and outs of her new gunblade had given him something else to occupy his hands with. By now, she was fairly certain he knew it just as well as his own. Which was why, despite that it didn’t take too long for him to finish up, she had the suspicion that he stalled a little just to gather his thoughts.

Finally, he held up the blade and gave it a critical once over, before setting it back down. With quick, efficient motions, he began wiping down the cleaning rods with a stained rag. “You need to refill your bottle with oil,” he commented while setting the rods back into her leather kit.

Viana glanced at the nearly empty bottle sitting on the desk. “There’s a flask of it in the cupboard,” she replied softly.

He nodded. “I’ll get it then.”

“Gonna have to let me up if you’re gonna do that, love.”

Thancred leaned back in the chair while his hands settled on her waist. He looked tired, his jaw tense and a hard edge to his eyes when he met her gaze.

It was a look that made her chest draw tight with concern. It felt like there was something other than just her impending departure that was on his mind. The silence stretched out between them, thick and heavy. Unsure of what to say to coax him into speaking of whatever was bothering him so, Viana raised a hand to caress his cheek before leaning down to press her lips to his in a chaste, hopefully soothing, kiss.

It was short and sweet, and a gentle reassurance that she’d be fine was right at the tip of her tongue, but they never made it past her lips.

With a sharp inhale, Thancred chased after her when she tried to part from him, his fingers digging into her hip while his other hand was quick to cradle her jaw. He swallowed her surprised gasp when he tugged her down to deepen the kiss, the scent of the cleaning oil that clung to his fingers sharp in her nose. A blazing warmth rushed up the back of her neck, while her heart quickened its pace and her thoughts scattered under the all too familiar yearning that he so skillfully stoked within her. The warm touch of his hand swept up beneath her shirt, leaving a trail of sparks behind as he let it idly roam over whatever he could reach of her, while still keeping her securely in his embrace. It was tempting to just surrender to it, to bury her hands in his hair and let the unspoken words die in favour of that carnal pleasure every caress of his lips promised.

Yet she would not let herself be swept up in it - not when she could all but taste the hard, cold undercurrent of something bitter in his fervent kisses.

Finding her voice, she pushed her hand against his chest. “Thancred.”

Immediately, he froze. “My apologies,” he rasped out, his breath a puff of hot air against her lips. The hold he’d had on her loosened, and she could sense that he would not stop her if she were to try and get up.

Rather than doing so, Viana relaxed and rested her forehead against his while she caressed his cheek. “What’s on your mind, love?”

Sighing, he nuzzled his nose against hers, before he finally responded, “Alisaie is right.”

“Whatever happened with ‘We’re still recovering’ and ‘we’ll be more of a distraction than help’?”

Thancred made an annoyed sound at the back of his throat. “Twelve, I know what I said.”

There was something he was not letting on. His tone was too guarded. Idly, she stroked her thumb over his cheekbone before leaning back a little. There was a stubborn set to his jaw and furrow between his brows. Unease bristled in her chest, a sharp and prickling concern for what was weighing so heavily on him. “You did not seem this worried when I ventured out to track down the weapon projects with Gaius,” she ventured carefully.

His expression darkened with a deep frown. “Because we all knew that Cid and the Ironworks would watch your back,” he responded firmly. “But out there, in Bozja, with the rebel forces? Who knows what’ll happen, who the Empire might have bought off with pretty promises or snuck in amongst the rank and file soldiers? We have no idea where Zenos is either. I should-” He abruptly fell silent and turned his head to the side, glaring off at her bookshelf like it was the sole source of his foul mood.

Viana raised an eyebrow and nervously wet her lips as she let her hand fall from his cheek to instead rest against his chest. “I don’t know where your head is at right now,” she began slowly, while trying to think of the right words to say. “But we’ve spoken of this. We both have our own duties to see to, and I know that you agree with me on the importance of that, so I can only guess that’s not why you’re bothered right now.”

She felt his fingers press into her hip, and tapped her fingers against his collarbone in turn. He glanced back at her, the grip on her hip tensing for a brief moment. The muscles at his jaw shifted as he clenched it, until he drew a deep breath and slowly exhaled. When he lowered his gaze, he relaxed his hold on her. “Forgive me… I… think I’m not used to you going off on your own, least of all into an active warzone,” he murmured. “Usually you have one of the twins with you at least, or that I’m close at hand myself, or… you’re with some other ally we know and trust.” He made a vague, hopeless gesture with his hand. “Bozja may as well be on the First, for all that I - or any of us - can help if something were to happen to you there.”

Despite his gruff tone, the little ball of anxiety in her chest loosened up. With a soft smile, Viana cradled his jaw and sought his gaze with her own. “Thancred, you’re allowed to be worried.”

He glanced up at her, his mouth still pressed together in a thin line and eyes stormy with emotions, but the hard lines in his expression had softened out a little. “I know you can take care of yourself,” he added firmly.

Humming softly, she brushed back a few strands of hair from his eyes. “Just like I knew you could take care of yourself while you were tracking Elidibus.” Quickly, she leaned down to brush her lips to his. “That doesn’t mean I did not fear that every hour I spent here at the Source was several hours I was not readily at hand in the First if you all needed me.”

With all that had been happening then, it had been hard to shake off the constant lingering fear that the moment she went to sleep, Feo Ul would be in her dreams to tell her that Elidibus had made his move in her absence, or that Thancred’s body had been found somewhere. Or worse, that they’d lost track of him entirely. Finding out later that he’d been hiding his dizzy spells from her hadn’t helped.

The memory of their hushed, hurried argument over that particular bit brought a bitter taste to her mouth. One bump on the road of them both learning and adjusting to being together with someone like this, but they had worked it out.

Thancred made a low, thoughtful noise that stirred her from her ruminations. Taking her hand in his, he pressed a light kiss to the back of her fingers. “Fair point, I suppose.”

Viana offered him a gentle smile. There was still some tension lingering in his expression, but she felt him relax against the back of the chair, his shoulders visibly slumping a little as he seemed to finally let go of whatever root cause for his mood had been. “You better now?” she asked.

He huffed out a tired chuckle. “I’d still be happier if we all were going with you.”

“Hmm, well, it’s like what I said to Alisaie,” she answered softly. “Best you all can do right now is to rest and recover. Fair chance there’s not much time before some matter or another requires you all out in the field once more.”

Thancred’s eyes softened and his smile turned a little rueful. “You too deserve some more time to rest.”

He raised a hand to cup her cheek and she leaned her head into his warm touch. She’d miss it in the coming weeks - miss all of them, now that she’d finally gotten them all back home once more. “I fear the world has other ideas,” she hummed. “It’s either now, or let the IVth legion solidify their hold on the region while the empire crumbles around them.” But he knew that - he, Riol and Alphinaud had all read the reports provided by the resistance just as diligently as she had.

Gently, Thancred pulled her back down for a slow, tender kiss that made her heart flutter in her chest and warmth rise on her cheeks. The kiss melted into another, his hand sliding up to cup the back of her head, until they somewhat reluctantly parted to catch their breaths. “I suppose barring the door is out of the question, hm? For just one more day at least?”

Chuckling at the rather well-worn joke - forever just a hushed whisper beneath warm covers they did not want to leave or a wistful remark in the lantern light on a eve such as this one - she pressed another quick kiss to his lips. “Afraid so, love.”

Thancred sighed softly, “Then I better get that flask refilled so you can pack everything away for tomorrow.”

“We have the rest of tonight.” She brushed one more kiss to his lips, craving those small intimate gestures with him that she’d have to go without with the coming of the morning light. “Let’s make the best use of it.”

“That sounds good, my dear.”

#thancred waters #Thancred #thancred x wol #alisaie leveilleur #My writing #Alisaie best little sister ok

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anchanted-library · 4 years

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FFXIV Prompt. 06. Pathetic

Olivier eventually spoke up. "I've got one," he announced, pushing his blue-black hair out of his eyes. "But it's a sad one."

"Then why bring it up?" Alisaie objected, sour from having her spicy story silenced.

"As a reminder that tragedies are just as important, for they have showed that we lived."

"Go on, then!" Thancred said, forestalling Alisaie's outburst, to which she glowered daggers at him.

But he ignored her, his eyes instead meeting Y'Shtola, Urianger, Alphinaud, E'Nisse, and Erika's one by one. Since it was Olivier speaking, they had a fairly good idea of which story he would tell. But it was like he said, it was wrong to discount tragedies. And perhaps the little girl might better grasp Ryosen's present state of mind, and why some were reluctant to bring him into this.

"This exchange I witnessed not myself," Olivier said. "But heard from Papashan, once a Chief Paladin in service to the Sultana of Ul'dah."

Thancred saw Erika bite her tongue and understood why. That was not even close to the kindly Lalafell’s official title, but there was no need to bring that up right now

Yuyuhase Luluhase sat at a table belonging to one of the ale stalls lining the poorer markets in Ul'Dah. He was going through his third mug of cheap ale right now, and in the mood for a hundred more today, to celebrate how he had escaped Halatali by the skin of his teeth.

"Oi, Stocari!" he called the proprietor. "One more!"

"But sir, you're going through too many drinks at once!"

Yuyuhase stuffed a fistful of coins in his direction and screamed. "MORE! NOW!"

Someone approached him from the nearby gate and placed a bottle of brandy before him. "Here," the tall man said. "It's on me."

"Ahhhh, thank you!" Yuyuhase grinned at the bottle, not even looking at his newest, bestest drinking buddy. "You, sir, know how to make a Brave feel special!"

"Think nothing of it, sir."

"Oh but I cannot!" Yuyuhase cried, wasting no time pouring one for himself. He barked for another glass and filled that too, roughly pushing it towards the other. "You see, I cannot be paid enough to risk my life like I do. And I am barely getting paid at all these days!"

The other man made a sympathetic noise. "That's such a shame!"

"Oh, but you have no idea, good sir!"

"What did you fight this time?"

"The traitors, the Scions! They were illegally attempting to save an accomplice and fellow traitor, former Flame General Raubahn, from his execution!"

"No!"

"Indeed!" Yuyuhase agreed heartily. "They are devils, the lot of them! They fight like men and women possessed! I don't often find myself fighting so desperately, but this time, oh boy!" He downed the glass in one. "MMMMMH that's good!" he cried. "Thank you for the drink, my good fellow!" he looked at his companion almost for the first time and his heart stopped. "You!" he hissed. He reached for his sword. "YOU!"

A blur of motion, a moment of pain and confusion, and Yuyuhase was looking up at the man from the floor. His own sword stuck out of his chest.

"Me," the Samurai said as he walked away as screams broke out throughout the plaza.

Ilberd Feare, Captain of the Crystal Braves following their betrayal of the Scions, stood before the Monetarist Council and raved. He incoherently ranted about Scions, traitors, Monetarists, money, and Scions again. He occasionally threw in the Garleans and Ala Mihgo in his tirade, because why not?

Lolorito was growing tired. He held up his hand. "Stop, stop!" he sneered. "You are making even less sense than usual. Why is it you are even here? Weren't you kicking your heels in Halatali? Didn't you kidnap ex-Flame General Raubahn—against orders—and take him for summary execution? Was killing a starved, one-armed prisoner beyond your meager abilities?"

"Hold your tongue, Lord Lolorito! After all I have done for you!"

"You botched everything!" Lolorito informed him coldly. "The whole episode was messed up so royally it's no wonder we didn't crown you 'King Botch'! The Scions were supposed to be contained, but you allowed every one of them to escape your clutches! How many of our men—yours and mine—died to stop a handful of escapees? The damage they caused cost several fortunes to repair! If I had been willing to part with so much money, I'd have just bought a fleet of yachts or the Sultana's personal chambers, or something of that sort! The only thing you succeeded in was capturing Raubahn, and even that was because I offered to let him see his beloved Sultana's body if he stood down!"

Ilberd growled. He foamed at the mouth. "So what? Didn't you get what you wanted? You rule Ul'dah unopposed! In exchange for my support, you promised to march on Ala Mihgo. Quit stalling! I demand you deliver on your promise!"

"You make no demands of me, backstabber!" Lolorito barked. "You were willing to sell your own grandmother for a vague promise to free Ala Mihgo! You are lucky the one whose promise you ultimately believed was mine and not Teledji! I will keep my promises. When resources allow it. That is a guarantee."

"It's not like I can ask for my money back!" Ilberd screamed, face going red. Heavens he was about to start off on another rant! "The day I turned my blade on the Scions I made an incalculably strong statement, one I can never take back even if I wished. All I've gotten in return are words."

"Well too bad, because my guarantee is all you will get for now," Lolorito said, studying his fingernails disdainfully. "Remember that had I been false, I would have eliminated you and your treacherous brethren a few Braves at a time but you first. For you are all massively loose ends. Yet you live. I have openly kept you in my service. I have protected you from Admiral Merlwyb and Elderseer Kan-E Senna. I have allowed you and your men to resupply for free from our armories and our food stores. I have authorized buildup of stockpiles near Baelsar's Wall. I will not have you question my commitment to our bargain again."

"Then why didn't you allow us to kill Raubahn?"

"Because he is useful to me!" Lolorito hissed so acidly that the Ala Mhigan revolutionary bared his teeth at him.

"I have had enough of your shite!" he grated. "When you wake up tomorrow, there will be no Braves to watch your back."

"The Braves will be where I pay them to be. You, on the other hand, are free to go. A free man. And bearing the equipment I paid for. In fact—" Lolorito hurled a bag of coins in his direction, the one he carried for his daily petty expenses. It was worth at least five year's pay for the average high ranking Officer in any army. "For your services. Don't spend it all in one place."

The man's features clouded with disbelief. He stood rooted to the spot for the next minute, but what he ultimately would have done, even he never found out.

What happened next would go down in legends.

The door exploded inwards with such force it knocked over the heavy council table. Several of the Monetarists screamed pitifully, and ducked, and fled to the far corners of the room.

"Isn't the room round?" Erika wondered, not able to take another wild inaccuracy.

"Shhh," Olivier shushed her. "I'm trying to tell a story here!"

"He is good at telling stories," E'nisse commented. "I can see why Lucia likes him."

"Please?"

"Of course."

"What is the meaning of this?" Lolorito demanded, having been the only one to hold his seat.

"Ryosen, the Samurai," Ilberd spat. "The one called the'Sword Saint'."

"And you," the Sword Saint whispered, his eyes burning, "are the one called the 'Rabid turncoat'."

"Mister Ryosen," Lolorito challenged him. "How dare you brandish weapons in here? This is a hallowed hall!"

"Not so hallowed that you don't lie and cheat!" the Samurai grated. "Or betray the ones who have saved you and yours time and again! I think the Twelve will agree that a trouncing is long overdue. The Kami of my people certainly would." He raised his weapon, and everyone was startled to see it was a baton—no, a thick flute—not a sword. "Tell me where the Scions are, or no one leaves today alive!"

Some of the cowering merchant elites moaned and whimpered. Some prayed to a god they would have tried to cheat only hours before.

Ilberd stepped forward, a nasty smile splitting his face. "They are dead, all of them! I killed them with this very sword!" He unsheathed his magnificent scimitar, Lionshead and kissed it. "You have some guts coming at me with that flute! You don't even have a real sword, and you dare think to 'avenge' those traitors as you are?" He leered at the wooden Bokken at the Samurai's waist.

"On your guard, turncoat!"

The two men stood regarding each other for several long moments. It occured to Lolorito to look outside the hall. Hundreds of guards stood outside, looking on pathetically. Brass Blades, Immortal Flames, Crystal Braves, and even some of the elite, white-clad Sultansworn. Not a one of them had opposed the Samurai's explosive entry into the very heart of the city. What had happened? How had he managed to so utterly cow several armies?

Then the tense standoff ended. The Samurai became a blur, disappearing and reappearing behind his opponent, with several loud thwacks of wood on skin echoed through the room.

Ilberd roared with pain and his sword clanged to the floor from nerveless fingers. A heartbeat after, he fell to one knee, gasping for breath. One hand, the left one, clutched at his chest, where the flute—the damned flute!—had evidently struck at his solar plexus.

For the first time, real fear entered Lolorito's chest. He wondered if moving against the Scions hadn't been the worst decision of his life.

"Let's try that again," Ryosen said, his soft voice oozing with the menace of a dozen Garlean superweapons. "Where are the Scions?"

Cursing and glaring, Ilberd did not respond. After some time, he reached for his sword again, then got back to his feet. The Samurai made no move to stop him. Nor did his dangerous expression shift.

The Captain of the Braves issued a battle cry that resonated in the tall Council Chamber and assaulted his opponent with such reckless abandon that one would have sworn that the Samurai was his most hated enemy.

Ilberd was a skilled swordsman, that had been proven several times over. It had been proven when he disarmed the legendary Raubahn—distracted though he might have been. It had been proven—though to a much smaller audience, when he had been single-handedly responsible for his inner circle's escape from Halatali, where he had fought the Leader of the Merry Suns Legion, the mighty Eikon slayer. It had been proven in the dozens of battles he had fought in the thickest parts of the actions, and survived.

But it was clear to all how badly outmatched he was.

For one thing, the Samurai was using a flute to ward off attacks from live darksteel.

For another, that Samurai was barely moving. Only his left hand appeared to be in motion, knocking aside blow after blow after blow with such bored ease that it appeared comical. He did not even take a single step in any direction, absorbing the momentum of Ilberd's charge like it was nothing.

But Ilberd fought ferociously. He tried to flank the Eastern swordsman, to attack from below or above or behind, only to be thwarted without Ryosen even keeping his eye on him.

The divide between them only infuriated Ilberd further, and he took to ever more reckless tactics. He leapt into the air and slammed his blade down, only for the Samurai to actually catch the blade with his empty right hand. He clenched his fist, infusing his grip with the same demonic strength that kept his flute from breaking against a sword's cruel edge, crumpling the steel like it was wet plaster. He punched Ilberd in the jaw and sent him sprawling into the splintered table. But Ilberd wasn't done. With swords working to no avail, he took to words. "So you want the Scions? I'll tell you where they are!" He grinned again, broader and more evilly than ever before. "Dead. Buried under a hundred tons of rubble. Their bones are probably flatter than pancakes right now."

He tried to charge forward again, only to trip and fall on his face.

"Yda and Papalymo were cornered in the Royal Promenade. They fought well, of course, but it was only a matter of time. They collapsed the stairs. Quite messy!"

He suddenly stood again and closed in on Ryosen, swinging his broad blade faster than the eye could see. A sound of wood hitting metal, and another of wood striking flesh, and Ilberd was sprawled on the table again, one foot in an awkward angle.

"Y'Shtola and Thancred put up a fierce last stand in the tunnels underneath the city, but they too set off an explosion that caused a heavy avalanche. So heavy was the rockfall that it sunk sections of the wall. Nasty business!"

He stood again to his full height. This time, he advanced at a painfully slow pace.

"Some of the others escaped, of course—" and here his smile grew even more twisted. Before his next words were out of his mouth, Lolorito already knew that he was about to overstep.

"But Minfilia, precious Minfilia Warde, is missing! No one knows what could possibly have happened to her! Me? I think her bones rest in the sewers somewhere..."

What happened next, no one could tell. The flute had fallen from the Samurai's hand; he had unsheathed instead the wooden sword at his waist. He had, once again, gotten behind Ilberd in the blink of an eye, with only the cacophony of wood striking flesh, cloth, leather, and iron mail to hint at his ferocious attack.

"Eh?" Ilberd uttered before he fell onto the grounds as a dozen disconnected body parts. His expression was pure, soul crushing shock. Evidently the Samurai had sliced him up as easily with an edgeless, wooden blade as he would have with a sword. Why would the man even need one if he was so deadly?

Belatedly, the warning of the east-obsessed merchant Garumi Borofumi; "This man was introduced as ‘ Kensei ’—which roughly translates to ‘Sword-Saint’! It is a title far more illustrious and prestigious than all of us combined could ever accomplish! It is only given to the most gifted of swordsmen, with its bearers being considered to be of such skill far surpassing human ability! I don’t think there have been more than three bearing that title in the last six hundred years!" Time seemed to have stopped, but then it began to move again, and it came with the most curious sensations.

For a second, Lolorito fancied that he smelled some sweet flower—A cherry blossom?—But then the only smell filling his nostrils was Ilberd's blood and guts.

He thought he felt ice coating his skin, and the hairs on his moustache and beard; but it was just the cold grip of terror.

He imagined the sensation of moonlight falling on his outstretched limbs, but then he felt as if he had been tossed into the darkest hole on the face of the source, and far away from even the memory of light.

The Samurai now turned his attention fully to him. "Where... are... the Scions?"

Ryosen walked dejectedly out of the city of Ul'dah. No one tried to stop him. For better or worse, he had made his point. He walked up to the exit from the underground tunnels, the ones the surviving Scions had fled out from. His composure hung by a thread.

He had been helping the Kobolds at dig 789 for over three months. They needed help toughening up, and he was glad of the task. Teaching was one of the expected pastimes of his title, and though he had no longer any claims to it, he appreciated the brief return to his oaths.

He had found the Kobolds good students, eager to learn how to defend themselves. And he had a small something to look forward to upon his return to Mor Dhona—his official engagement to Minfilia.

Every moment had been fun, but also agony. He wanted to be with her again, to share their dinners. He had often wondered if she remembered to sleep. And then one day, Admiral Merlwyb had issued forth from Limsa Lominsa herself to bring him the news. She had been appalled that he hadn't heard what had befallen his treasured comrades. Her words, spoken in a gentler tone than he'd ever suspected possible from her, had shattered his world.

He had fallen unconscious from the ensuing panic attack, with tremors racking his body and his nerves on edge for days afterwards.

Merlwyb had told him there were survivors, but his memory of that conversation had grown hazy. So, he decided to get his answers from Ul'dah instead, after which he would teach them what the wrath of a Kensei felt like.

After that...

He hadn't planned that far ahead. Could not. His steps were faltering and pained. Pathetic. Too much so for one called the sword saint.

Truly, he had mocked that hallowed title enough with each blasphemous breath he took.

But what did that matter any more? Unlike most of the other Scions, there wasn't even a rumor of her survival. And in his heart, he already knew that he would not see her on this world again.

He would walk into the caverns, he decided. And he would die there. He would find a spot that felt like Minfilia might have spent her last moments. And he would wait there for thirst and dust to end his own miserable life.

#FFXIV #ffxivwrite2020 #ffxivwrite #ffxiv writing challenge #Minfilia x OC #canon divergence

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cupcakecoterie · 4 years

Video

youtube

@true0neutral - Hazel, half-elf cleric

@fauxfire76 - Darvin, human bard/sorcerer

@miaaoi - Froseth, dragonborn monk

@hyperewok1 - Remi, human paladin/warlock

@lindira - Clarity, tiefling rogue/wizard

Marion - Ava, human ranger

We’re still working through the whole group reshuffle, at least in part, so yet another talking session. Still a lot of fun.

Upon returning from town and the Moose Incident, Clarity got hugged by kids. Then went into Hearthhome and got hugged by parents.

Farideh is learning magic and has managed to pick up Prestidigitation. Be afraid.

Darvin asked to spar with Froseth. Following in a grand tradition of “other party members trying to spar with Froseth”, this did not end particularly well for Darvin, who didn’t even get a hit in since Froseth ended the spar in one move.

Remi and Alisaie went to pick up Riswynn from the quartermaster. Riswynn stated that she would not be accompanying them to Star Coast, or afterwards; that instead she would go to the Cathay Farm with the rest of the Hearthheart family to help safeguard them, and then go on to try to see if she could infiltrate Cragvere for information about what’s going on underground.

Hazel cooked dinner. It went well! Clarity baked Hazel a cake for her birthday. This did not go as well because the Hand of Fate decreed that Evan, who Geloe had turned into a raccoon for moving her furniture again, tried to get into it while the others were eating the regular dinner and managed to drop it all over himself, and on the floor.

Riswynn had arranged for the green dragon hide that Alisaie brought in to be turned into armour for a taller person than a dwarf, but Clarity still had to go in for measurements. Apparently Clarity is still uncomfortable about even the most clinical comments about her bust.

The quartermaster gave Hazel some presents - a Hat of Holding and an assortment of candy that’s basically somewhere between Willy Wonka and Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. It was fun. Might even be useful in combat. They actually have plans to find the shop the next time they’re in Egref.

Hazel shared some of the less ... active candies. This resulted in some cheekiness of the Evan variety. Evan’s going to be dangerous when he’s older. (Hell, he’s dangerous now.)

They sat down to discuss some plans for going forward, which started as trying to figure out what they had to do in town before they left but turned into way too much planning of a battle they can’t entirely anticipate with a foe that may turn up or may send something else entirely. For in town, they need to check in with the baron of Goldendale / rightful king of Baronsvere, get Darvin’s chestplate back from Jenna - and Alisaie wants to get a good solid length of chain to make the best use of Heat Metal - and check in with Lanark for a ranged weapon for Clarity, and possibly a new one for Hazel so they don’t have to take the crossbow off Riswynn. Meanwhile Froseth is going to keep meditating to see if he can get any sense of what they actually need to do in order to revive the heart of Star Coast. Then they head for Star Coast as soon as possible to Do The Thing.

I love my guys. They’re adorable.

#Critical Tumbl #full session #Write-up #Youtube Vid

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eremiss · 4 years

Note

Gwencred: Nicknames? & if so, how did they originate? >_>

(it me so it got wordy)

“Nicknames?” Gwen tilts her head thoughtfully, “Well, I suppose ‘Gwen’ is one. I like my full name, but I can’t help thinking it sounds a little,” she gestures vaguely, “a little…overly formal, if that makes sense? Guinevere. It’s lovely, just,” she makes a neutral, unimpressed sound. “I like both versions, but ‘Gwen’ is just far shorter and a little more, maybe, approachable-sounding? Or casual? Not to mention it’s much easier for children to say. But I do introduce myself with both and leave it up to others to decide which they prefer. It honestly doesn’t bother me.”

She thinks for a moment, “Some of my friends use one or the other exclusively; Alisaie and Lyse only call me Gwen, while Uriangier, Y’shtola and Krile only call me Guinevere. Some people, like Alphinaud and Aymeric, switch depending on the situation. If we’re among friends it’s ‘Gwen’, but in more formal and serious settings it’s ‘Guinevere’.” She laughs, “Which sort of reinforces the whole ‘Guinevere sounds formal’ thing, doesn’t it?”

Gwen drums her fingers and shifts in her seat a little. “And side from that… Well, people can give me nicknames if they like, and I don’t mind provided they’re, you know, not…too odd or strange or,” she waves a hand, “you know, so long as they’re reasonable.”

She thinks for another minute, “Thancred calls me dove.” She smiles faintly. “It’s funny actually, when I met him he was such a flirt, but I didn’t really, ah, listen to the flirting, I guess you could say? It’s not that I thought he was insincere, really, so much as I just… have never really cared for surface-level compliments? Like about my appearance, I mean. Anyone can make a comment about looks and pretty it up with a bit of poetry or erudite praise. I mean, he was certainly creative about it, so I can’t say ‘I’d heard it all before’, but I had heard versions before. Emerald eyes, silver streaks in my hair, all that…” She pets one of the gray streaks almost self-consciously.

“Compliments about my skills, about what I can do, or,” she waffles for a moment, “my personality, I guess, those sorts of things mean a lot more to me. Because that’s deeper stuff, you know? Someone needs to know me, at least a little bit. It…needs more effort, I suppose. I’ve gotten my fair share of compliments over the years and they’ve never really… become much, if that makes sense, and Thancred’s seemed much the same–though he did have the benefit of proving that he was resourceful and skilled in his own right when we fought voidsent and that Ascian acolyte to retrieve the Sultana’s crown. Still, I didn’t really know him, so…”

Gwen laughs, “And, well, Thancred didn’t really seem to get that. Not that I was terribly straightforward about it, besides brushing the flowery words aside. Not until one day when I–” She laughs again, almost nervously this time, and shakes her head, “It was shortly before he asked me to join the Scions. He paid me some mellifluous praise about my…” she pauses, thinking, “ah, I don’t remember exactly. My eyes? I honestly don’t remember. Whatever it was, it ended with him comparing me to a desert rose, and I,” she pauses again, looking vaguely rueful and tugging on her hair, “I joked back, ‘So, pretty to look at, delicate and short-lived?’ and laughed, because I was just teasing, and he looked, ah… Well frankly he looked a little stunned for a moment. I don’t think anyone had ever replied like that. I was, erm, a bit worried that I’d gone a little too far. But a second later we were right back to chatting like nothing happened… except he toned down the all the praise and flirting a bit. Later he told me he found it interesting more than offputting or anything else, which… I’m glad for, honestly, because ‘offputting’ was not what I’d intended.”

“Then I joined the Scions and we started to work together, so we had the chance to chat get know each other a little. I mean, he was still the man I met in Ul’dah, but I got to actually know a bit about him–more than ‘oh, that charming fellow with the strange mask that flirts with every woman he sees in between chasing aetherical disturbances’.” She laughs and sighs, “And he still had plenty of little comments and quips, but he started… complimenting random things? Other things, I mean, besides my appearance –though those didn’t completely stop– until he finally got a reaction out of me. Or, well, the reaction he wanted.” She folds her arms and shakes her head, blushing a little more, “He’s stubborn like that.”

“I suppose, being frank but still a little…charitable, you can chalk it up to simply wanting to know more about his fellow Scions. But I’m sure knowing how to best flatter his friends helps when it comes to sweet-talking his way out of whatever uncomfortable situation he’s gone and gotten himself into. Also through talking, knowing him.” Gwen rolls her eyes, mostly exasperated but still a bit fond. “And then, well… I mean, I lived at the Waking Sands for a few weeks before we were sent to Drybone to investigate the disappearances, and he kept coming around, and we kept talking. During all of that he started to figure out what I…cared about or preferred, I guess, when it came to compliments and the like. And he’s charming, of course, and he knows it.” She scoffs. “So his words started to stick, because he’s frustratingly good with them when he chooses to be. Actually, even when he’s not trying. Well, anyway, we worked together well and got along, but it didn’t really… Well, I mean, he was still laying it on a bit thick. And I told him so, so we could have a regular conversation without all the flattery and all that getting in the way, you know? I wasn’t the first in that regard, at least, ha. But before we could really get to know one another, to actually be friends more than colleagues, well…Ifrit happened.”

Gwen frowns and sighs. “It… He took it hard. I didn’t even know him that well, all things considered, but I could still tell it was really eating at him. He was… I’m not sure. At the very least he blamed himself for Ifrit tempering those soldiers and trying to temper me. And for me having to fight it alone… Not that his presence would have really made a difference…” She shakes her head, “Even if he’d been there, that doesn’t mean that ambush would have gone any differently. I mean, maybe it could have. But maybe not. And if not, well, then he would have been tempered too, and… Yeah.”

“One night I tried to cheer him up a little and we ended up joking about all his compliments and flirting and all the little pet names I’d heard him call people–usually related to flowers or sunny days or those sorts of things. He jokingly vowed to find some sort of nickname for me that wouldn’t have me ‘running for the hills’ or whatever, and I said, ‘Nothing to do with flowers, I hope’ and we laughed a bit. It did seem to put him in a better mood, for a little while, at least. And, then, well,” she shifts awkwardly, “the necklace and…yeah.” She sighs frustratedly and shakes her head.

“After the Praetorium Thancred took a while to recover and I…avoided him because of–well, it was partially my fault. But we talked that out,” Gwen rolls her eyes and smiles fondly, “and he teased me about it, of course. Always with the teasing and trying to get some kind of reaction out of me, I swear. Once he’d recovered a bit, just out of the blue he called me ‘dove’. And I…” She temporizes, leaning her head one way and then the other, “Well, I liked it, honestly. I just…like the word, and the way he said it,” she blushes and shakes her head, “not that you needed to know that part. Ahem. And, well… I did say ‘no flowers’ and it wasn’t a flower. And I hadn’t heard him call anyone else ‘dove’ before, either. Later, after I thought about it, I realized I also liked the, the,” she pauses, searching for a word, “the associations it had, If that makes sense? Doves are a symbol of hope and peace and gentleness and…that sort of thing. With all the fighting and Primal slaying and all, it feels… Well, I liked it then and I like it now.”

Gwen scoffs lightly, grinning, “Well, the ‘not hearing him call anyone else’ bit isn’t quite so accurate. When we worked with the Rogue’s guild I found out dove is a sort of–of…of colloquial term for a woman in Limsa Lominsa. It’s like ‘lass’, you know? Eventually I got Thancred to admit he’d specifically stopped using the word with that sort of connotation when he’d abandoned his Lominsan accent, dialect, and thieves’ cant while he studied in Sharlayan. Scholars don’t ask you to, ah… what did he say again?” She thinks for a moment, “Scholars don’t task you to ‘get yer best beater-cases and lend yer daddles to mill a rum cove’, after all. Either way, I’m the only one he calls dove now and… That’s good enough.”

“As for my end of things, well,” Gwen fidgets with her rings and her hair. “I don’t really use nicknames, unless someone asks me to–or everyone else refers to them by their nickname. Like ‘Gwen’ for me, you see. And I’m not in the habit of making up my own nicknames for others, either. I don’t really have a reason why, I suppose I just never got in the habit.”

She tugs her hair and blushes a little darker, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “I’ll admit, I have tried the, ah, the ‘pet name’ thing–pet name? Nickname? Ah, whichever. I mean, calling Thancred something different, like how he calls me ‘dove’ and it… Well, suffice it to say it didn’t work out. I sort of…stumbled over them and said them so awkwardly every time I tried, it just… Ugh, it didn’t work. And he teased me, of course, but he wasn’t mean about it.” Gwen laughs, “I swear, whenever I try he acts like I’m trying to–to butter him up because I need something from him. And doing a terrible job of it, might I add. ‘Oh, ‘dearest’, am I? I’m flattered, dove… or I would be, if you didn’t sound as though you were about to ask for a hefty and unpleasant favor’ and he always says it with this–this– that stupid cocky grin of his.” She folds her arms, smiling through a scoff, “The nerve, I swear.”

Gwen pauses, considering, and her smile fades. “Though I… I have called him ‘darling’ a time or two, but that– It was…different. A different situation, I mean, and I– ah, well, he… Well, once he’d had a nightmare and I, I didn’t really think about it, I just said it while I was talking to him, and… I don’t know, it seemed to help me…reach him? I don’t know how to describe it. Anyway I– I sort of,” she ponders a few words, “hold on to that one, you could say.”

“All that aside, Thancred genuinely isn’t bothered that I don’t call him any nicknames or anything silly. And teasing and namecalling when we’re bickering doesn’t count. That’s different.” She hesitates, “Once, when he was drunk, he said his name ‘sounds different when I say it’.” Gwen looks away, face turning redder, “Even though I don’t say it differently or– or– I don’t even have an accent, so…”

Gwen shakes her head sharply, getting ahold of her self. “Right. Well. I suppose the most important takeaways are that my nickname is Gwen. Thancred calls me dove. I don’t really, ah, do nicknames, and he doesn’t mind that. And we both get a laugh whenever I decide to give it a try and end up messing it up.”

————–

I decided to write it like Gwen was saying the reply, even though she doesn’t talk half this much and wouldn’t have actually shared about 90% of that with anyone rofl

Maybe think about it like a journal entry instead lol I don’t wanna rewrite it agh

#Thancred Waters #Guinevere Ashe #Gwencred #asks #nicknames!!#Gwencred seemed like the best combo for their names #Ooooorrr Thanivere #but ye :D #Gwen doesn't really DO the whole 'giving nicknames and petnames' thing #but she doesn't mind being given one #within reason #my writing #thanks for the ask!!#Answered

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