scrollsfromarebornrealm

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

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Ul'dah, shortly before the events of ARR.

[in which an acquaintance of Augustine's father realizes he's made a poor life choice]

------

Mathieu Hawthorne couldn’t help himself, pulling nervously at his collar. He’d sent the letter the moment the matches had finished, of course. He didn’t know if anyone else from Ishgard was aware of the situation yet—but then really, the vassal houses of the High Houses were their own social strata. So perhaps his wife had been overthinking matters as usual and there wouldn’t be a scandal. Or rather, it wouldn’t be as big…especially if he could get the Seymour boy to quietly return home.

U’ldah, of all places! The boy clearly had been afflicted with a touch of madness. To come to the most depraved and heathen cities in Eorzea, squandering what talent he had in a mummer’s show, surrounded by nothing but sin and vice-- Mathieu looked around the room he was currently sitting in.  Rich carpeting and fine tapestries, bottles of wine and platters of food, incense burners sending wisps of scented smoke into the air. He was certain he’d spotted a dancing girl wearing naught but a veil being led into a nearby suite, and distantly he could hear raucous cheering and drunken singing. Only Halone knew what went on at these…afterparties.

Though…perhaps really, one cannot blame him…  It was natural for young men to chomp at the bit. A little foolishness was to be expected, harmless even. And considering the rumors of Lord Seymour and his house, it would be surprising if the boy didn’t rebel at all. Perhaps it was a touch overdramatic, but there was always one or two in a generation who acted as such. Mathieu could remember his younger brother being the exact same way, though he hadn’t run off to U’ldah. Just that mess with the steward’s daughter. Perhaps Lord Seymour just needed to ensure a place for his youngest, instead of constantly cossetting his heir. Especially considering his fighting ability…  The sound of the door opening jolted Mathieu out of his thoughts. He stood up, waiting as the door shut and the sound of heavy footsteps came towards him. A prepared speech was already in his mind, he would have to be firm but gentle, really, considering Lord Seymour and the older son a little drama was to be— 

Then a stranger entered the sitting room, and Mathieu’s carefully prepared speech on filial piety and duty fled screaming from his brain. He was dimly aware of his jaw dropping, his mind stuttering—trying to reconcile his memories with what was standing before him. That stranger walked past him, unbuckling his sword-belt on the way.

“Ser Hawthorne.”  Mathieu blinked-and then shook his head, trying to regain his composure.

“A-A-Augustine?!”  He spluttered. He’d not gotten a good look at the boy on the arena floor. Whenever he thought of the youngest Seymour he remembered a lanky striping following Lord Seymour’s man-at-arms around.  Pale, skinny, a tendency to fade into the walls at social gatherings. And naturally his coloration—black hair and those multi-colored eyes, a vast difference from his parents and older brother, who were fair haired and blue-hued. He remembered a whispery voice and if one were to be honest, too pretty of a face.

But that wasn’t the person who had entered the room, who had walked past him like he was some serving-boy—and who was turning to face him. Oh, the face was the same—one green eye, one blue, jet black hair with hues of red. But there was no childlike light of innocence in those eyes, there was only grim purpose. No longer was Mathieu looking down—he was looking up. Ebon platemail was fitted to a broad and muscular form—and to his shock, Mathieu could see bloodstains gleaming on the metal. This was not the boy he remembered—nor was preparing to scold.

“Ser Hawthrone.” With a jerk, Mathieu found himself being yanked out of his thoughts. The voice wasn’t even the same—instead of a trembling warble, it was a husky alto.

“I-I-”

“Speak your piece and then leave.”  That comment was more than enough to shock Mathieu back to his senses, and he stared at the younger man.

“Excuse me?!”

He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t afraidhewasn’tafraidhewasn’tafraid-- Augustine crossed his arms, letting just a brief flash of annoyance show on his face.  He’d been told that there had been an Ishgardian waiting for him in his rooms. For a moment he’d panicked, fear icing his belly that he’d be taken back to his family, that everything he was working so hard for right now was going to fall apart… It’d taken everything he had to enter his rooms calmly, showing no emotion.

But then he’d seen the look on Mathieu’s face. Had practically heard the man’s brain struggling to process the sight before him. A flash of anger had snaked through Augustine, had he been expecting to see the child he’d once was?

And then…clarity. The fear suddenly retreating as something surged inside him—bolstering his spirit, giving it wings. He was an adult now. Not a child.

He was an adult.

Not a child.

He was in a room that was (technically) his own. Surrounded by his own things. Wearing his own armor. He wasn’t in Ishgard. He wasn’t under the thumb of his family here. Here he was respected. Here he was working towards his goal.

He was free. Free of his family, of their knots and chains and scorn and abuse. And even when he returned home, he would continue to be free. And maybe this was the Fury—or perhaps Nald’thal—giving him an opportunity to make a stand. To draw boundaries.

For him to show that he was free.

“I assume you’re here because of my family.”  He’d recognized Mathieu of course; he was one of his father’s semi-friends. A righteous, pompous sort stuffed up full of his own glory and fake piety to Halone. It wasn’t too hard to figure out that the lord had probably—or was going to send word back to Ishgard that Augustine was in U’ldah. That was fine, he’d been expecting it, had slowly been working his way towards living with it mentally.

“You—have you lost leave of your senses?! Where are your manners?!” Mathieu barked. Augustine couldn’t help himself at that, a smile spreading across his face.

“For you at current, I have none.” He answered, almost too sweetly. “Now. I’m assuming you’re here because of my family. Or perhaps you’re not, you’ve seen me and you’ve either notified them of my presence here or are about to let them know. Either way, I don’t care. They are dead to me. I am an orphan. My business here is to learn the way of the blade.”

“Learn—learn what?!” Mathieu spluttered. Augustine very deliberately turned his back to him, going over to a nearby cupboard. “Turn around and face me, boy! You will show respect to your elder!”

“It’s hard to show respect to someone when they never had anything to be respected for in the first place.”  Augustine commented, opening the cupboard doors. Inside was a god-shrine to both Halone and Nald’thal. After he was done with Mathieu, he’d perform his prayers. At the moment he felt slightly dizzy, almost high—with giddiness.

“You—” Mathieu struggled to find words. “Traitor! You will be dragged back to Ishgard and beaten for—” Augustine suddenly whipped around to face him, and Mathieu felt himself freeze. Fear screamed to life in his belly, lancing through his veins like levin and turning his tongue to lead. There was a look on the younger hyur’s face, one that made the Ishgardian lord suddenly aware that he was weaponless and armorless, that he’d left his guards to watch his wife—and that it was just only him and this…stranger that wasn’t the boy he knew, had expected—in the room.

“Pray tell,” Augustine began, his voice suddenly gentle. “Just…how have I commented treason against my people? The Fury? I have had no contact with any Dravanians. I have not listened to any of their words, nor have I participated in any of their rituals, nor have I partaken of any of their unholy feasts.”  He tilted his head and tucked his hands behind his back, watching the blood slowly drain from Mathieu’s skin.

“I’ve broken the edict against leaving—but see, so many others do as well. There’s no choice in the matter, since we need the heathen outside world to survive, given the eternal snow. I’m not the only Ishgardian who’s fought on the bloodsands, nor am I the only one who has apprenticed at the Gladiator’s Guild.”  Augustine took several steps forward, then stopped, tilting his head as if in thought.

“I’ve sinned. I’ve been to parties, I’ve been drunk, I’ve slept with beautiful women and quite frankly do plan on sleeping with more. And even then, there’s really nothing in the Enchiridion against doing as such. Halone’s words are to ensure that one enjoys themselves in moderation, not excess.”  Augustine started to walk forward again, watching as Mathieu took one step backward. And then another one.

“I have not taken any holy orders yet, nor was I sworn to duty. All I can really be guilty for is again, breaking the edict against leaving. Of which I’m not expecting too heavy of a punishment or any punishment at all. Therefore, I have not commented treason.”

“Heresy.”  Mathieu got out weakly. “You—you are dishonoring your noble father’s name--!” His last step made his back hit the wall. He could feel his stomach and guts turning to water as Augustine advanced on him, still with that horrible smile on his features. The younger hyur came to a stop just in front of the older man, gazing steadily into his eyes.

“Cyrille Seymour has no honor.”  He stated. The words dropped into the empty room like cannonballs. “The day I left Ishgard was the day he and his lady wife became parents to only one son. The day I return to Ishgard they will still be parents to only one son. I wish him, his wife, and his offspring the very best in life. Just as I will say to you now, Lord Hawthorne. I wish you nothing but the best in life.” Inhaling, Augustine stepped back, inclining his head towards the door.

“Leave.”  He commanded. Flushed with shame, Mathieu practically bolted for the door, running as if the hounds from the hells were on his heels. Augustine watched as the wood slammed shut—fancying that just for a moment—he had heard the gates of his family’s manor clink closed.

“Goodbye.”  He whispered.

#ffxiv #augustine bishop #ffxiv ishgard #ffxiv ul'dah #ishgard #a realm reborn #a rebloob

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

Nidhogg interrupts the peace conference

Heavensward Patch 3.2 Quest: For Those We Can Yet Save

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

message home

Ul'dah, shortly before the events of ARR.

[in which an acquaintance of Augustine's father realizes he's made a poor life choice]

------

Mathieu Hawthorne couldn’t help himself, pulling nervously at his collar. He’d sent the letter the moment the matches had finished, of course. He didn’t know if anyone else from Ishgard was aware of the situation yet—but then really, the vassal houses of the High Houses were their own social strata. So perhaps his wife had been overthinking matters as usual and there wouldn’t be a scandal. Or rather, it wouldn’t be as big…especially if he could get the Seymour boy to quietly return home.

U’ldah, of all places! The boy clearly had been afflicted with a touch of madness. To come to the most depraved and heathen cities in Eorzea, squandering what talent he had in a mummer’s show, surrounded by nothing but sin and vice-- Mathieu looked around the room he was currently sitting in.  Rich carpeting and fine tapestries, bottles of wine and platters of food, incense burners sending wisps of scented smoke into the air. He was certain he’d spotted a dancing girl wearing naught but a veil being led into a nearby suite, and distantly he could hear raucous cheering and drunken singing. Only Halone knew what went on at these…afterparties.

Though…perhaps really, one cannot blame him…  It was natural for young men to chomp at the bit. A little foolishness was to be expected, harmless even. And considering the rumors of Lord Seymour and his house, it would be surprising if the boy didn’t rebel at all. Perhaps it was a touch overdramatic, but there was always one or two in a generation who acted as such. Mathieu could remember his younger brother being the exact same way, though he hadn’t run off to U’ldah. Just that mess with the steward’s daughter. Perhaps Lord Seymour just needed to ensure a place for his youngest, instead of constantly cossetting his heir. Especially considering his fighting ability…  The sound of the door opening jolted Mathieu out of his thoughts. He stood up, waiting as the door shut and the sound of heavy footsteps came towards him. A prepared speech was already in his mind, he would have to be firm but gentle, really, considering Lord Seymour and the older son a little drama was to be— 

Then a stranger entered the sitting room, and Mathieu’s carefully prepared speech on filial piety and duty fled screaming from his brain. He was dimly aware of his jaw dropping, his mind stuttering—trying to reconcile his memories with what was standing before him. That stranger walked past him, unbuckling his sword-belt on the way.

“Ser Hawthorne.”  Mathieu blinked-and then shook his head, trying to regain his composure.

“A-A-Augustine?!”  He spluttered. He’d not gotten a good look at the boy on the arena floor. Whenever he thought of the youngest Seymour he remembered a lanky striping following Lord Seymour’s man-at-arms around.  Pale, skinny, a tendency to fade into the walls at social gatherings. And naturally his coloration—black hair and those multi-colored eyes, a vast difference from his parents and older brother, who were fair haired and blue-hued. He remembered a whispery voice and if one were to be honest, too pretty of a face.

But that wasn’t the person who had entered the room, who had walked past him like he was some serving-boy—and who was turning to face him. Oh, the face was the same—one green eye, one blue, jet black hair with hues of red. But there was no childlike light of innocence in those eyes, there was only grim purpose. No longer was Mathieu looking down—he was looking up. Ebon platemail was fitted to a broad and muscular form—and to his shock, Mathieu could see bloodstains gleaming on the metal. This was not the boy he remembered—nor was preparing to scold.

“Ser Hawthrone.” With a jerk, Mathieu found himself being yanked out of his thoughts. The voice wasn’t even the same—instead of a trembling warble, it was a husky alto.

“I-I-”

“Speak your piece and then leave.”  That comment was more than enough to shock Mathieu back to his senses, and he stared at the younger man.

“Excuse me?!”

He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t afraidhewasn’tafraidhewasn’tafraid-- Augustine crossed his arms, letting just a brief flash of annoyance show on his face.  He’d been told that there had been an Ishgardian waiting for him in his rooms. For a moment he’d panicked, fear icing his belly that he’d be taken back to his family, that everything he was working so hard for right now was going to fall apart… It’d taken everything he had to enter his rooms calmly, showing no emotion.

But then he’d seen the look on Mathieu’s face. Had practically heard the man’s brain struggling to process the sight before him. A flash of anger had snaked through Augustine, had he been expecting to see the child he’d once was?

And then…clarity. The fear suddenly retreating as something surged inside him—bolstering his spirit, giving it wings. He was an adult now. Not a child.

He was an adult.

Not a child.

He was in a room that was (technically) his own. Surrounded by his own things. Wearing his own armor. He wasn’t in Ishgard. He wasn’t under the thumb of his family here. Here he was respected. Here he was working towards his goal.

He was free. Free of his family, of their knots and chains and scorn and abuse. And even when he returned home, he would continue to be free. And maybe this was the Fury—or perhaps Nald’thal—giving him an opportunity to make a stand. To draw boundaries.

For him to show that he was free.

“I assume you’re here because of my family.”  He’d recognized Mathieu of course; he was one of his father’s semi-friends. A righteous, pompous sort stuffed up full of his own glory and fake piety to Halone. It wasn’t too hard to figure out that the lord had probably—or was going to send word back to Ishgard that Augustine was in U’ldah. That was fine, he’d been expecting it, had slowly been working his way towards living with it mentally.

“You—have you lost leave of your senses?! Where are your manners?!” Mathieu barked. Augustine couldn’t help himself at that, a smile spreading across his face.

“For you at current, I have none.” He answered, almost too sweetly. “Now. I’m assuming you’re here because of my family. Or perhaps you’re not, you’ve seen me and you’ve either notified them of my presence here or are about to let them know. Either way, I don’t care. They are dead to me. I am an orphan. My business here is to learn the way of the blade.”

“Learn—learn what?!” Mathieu spluttered. Augustine very deliberately turned his back to him, going over to a nearby cupboard. “Turn around and face me, boy! You will show respect to your elder!”

“It’s hard to show respect to someone when they never had anything to be respected for in the first place.”  Augustine commented, opening the cupboard doors. Inside was a god-shrine to both Halone and Nald’thal. After he was done with Mathieu, he’d perform his prayers. At the moment he felt slightly dizzy, almost high—with giddiness.

“You—” Mathieu struggled to find words. “Traitor! You will be dragged back to Ishgard and beaten for—” Augustine suddenly whipped around to face him, and Mathieu felt himself freeze. Fear screamed to life in his belly, lancing through his veins like levin and turning his tongue to lead. There was a look on the younger hyur’s face, one that made the Ishgardian lord suddenly aware that he was weaponless and armorless, that he’d left his guards to watch his wife—and that it was just only him and this…stranger that wasn’t the boy he knew, had expected—in the room.

“Pray tell,” Augustine began, his voice suddenly gentle. “Just…how have I commented treason against my people? The Fury? I have had no contact with any Dravanians. I have not listened to any of their words, nor have I participated in any of their rituals, nor have I partaken of any of their unholy feasts.”  He tilted his head and tucked his hands behind his back, watching the blood slowly drain from Mathieu’s skin.

“I’ve broken the edict against leaving—but see, so many others do as well. There’s no choice in the matter, since we need the heathen outside world to survive, given the eternal snow. I’m not the only Ishgardian who’s fought on the bloodsands, nor am I the only one who has apprenticed at the Gladiator’s Guild.”  Augustine took several steps forward, then stopped, tilting his head as if in thought.

“I’ve sinned. I’ve been to parties, I’ve been drunk, I’ve slept with beautiful women and quite frankly do plan on sleeping with more. And even then, there’s really nothing in the Enchiridion against doing as such. Halone’s words are to ensure that one enjoys themselves in moderation, not excess.”  Augustine started to walk forward again, watching as Mathieu took one step backward. And then another one.

“I have not taken any holy orders yet, nor was I sworn to duty. All I can really be guilty for is again, breaking the edict against leaving. Of which I’m not expecting too heavy of a punishment or any punishment at all. Therefore, I have not commented treason.”

“Heresy.”  Mathieu got out weakly. “You—you are dishonoring your noble father’s name--!” His last step made his back hit the wall. He could feel his stomach and guts turning to water as Augustine advanced on him, still with that horrible smile on his features. The younger hyur came to a stop just in front of the older man, gazing steadily into his eyes.

“Cyrille Seymour has no honor.”  He stated. The words dropped into the empty room like cannonballs. “The day I left Ishgard was the day he and his lady wife became parents to only one son. The day I return to Ishgard they will still be parents to only one son. I wish him, his wife, and his offspring the very best in life. Just as I will say to you now, Lord Hawthorne. I wish you nothing but the best in life.” Inhaling, Augustine stepped back, inclining his head towards the door.

“Leave.”  He commanded. Flushed with shame, Mathieu practically bolted for the door, running as if the hounds from the hells were on his heels. Augustine watched as the wood slammed shut—fancying that just for a moment—he had heard the gates of his family’s manor clink closed.

“Goodbye.”  He whispered.

#ffxiv #augustine bishop #ffxiv ishgard #ffxiv ul'dah #ishgard #a realm reborn

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

wip--letter writer

(cut inserted for implied sexual content)

Margarat straightened, using a hand on Mathye's chest to brace herself. Now she was straddling him, and she had to admit that the view was particularly nice.

"So." She said, making herself comfortable. "Tural is it? I can see why you were asking for a penpal."

"What makes you think I already don't have penpals?" Mathye countered. "I thought I'd be nice. Give you something to look forward to considering the mountain of paperwork in your office you keep shirking." He grinned as Margarat narrowed her eyes.

"You know, I've never killed a man before. Especially one that's naked and helpless in bed." This earned her a sharp smile from Mathye, all white teeth with a flash of fang.

"I'd like to see you try." Giving into temptation, he reached up to gently trace his fingers up one of Margarat's forearms.

"You are aware the moment word gets out you're on the western continent every Thomas, Dickerson and Harris will be arriving in droves." Margarat spread her fingers, feeling the steady beat of Mathye's heart beneath her palm.

"We know. Can't be helped. Just hoping we get a little time to see what's going on before the waters get muddy." Mathye grunted as Margarat shifted position.

"And you're sure this...'threat' is legitimate?" She asked, making air-quotes with her fingers.

"No, which is why we want to investigate. It wouldn't hurt to confirm. If it's naught to be concerned about that's fine. If it is something to be worried about..." Mathye trailed off. "Then we're getting as much information as possible, maybe buy some time. I don't doubt that the Grand Alliance can defend themselves when it comes to it, but the state of everyone's military..."

"Is still poor." Margarat finished. Mathye nodded.

"Ishgard was only just getting back on its feet when the Final Days struck. And we got off lightly compared to Gridania and Ala Mhigo. And then there's Garlemald--if they were attacked, the Ilsabard Contingent would probably need more support and that's enough of a political mess as is." Margarat nodded, understanding.

#ffxiv #mathye bishop #ffxiv margarat #a wip #DEDICATED TO THE WALNUTS OF THE FC WHO INSTIGATED THIS #a rebloob

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

The Time for Recruitment

(@scrollsfromarebornrealm On Our Fates Alight tie in fic. Masterpost here. Set after the return of the Dominants from Norvrandt)

It had been quite some time since the Archivist saw the Scion’s main force of Dominants. They chalked it up to something not their purview. They were a shadow flitting around them after all, keeping some of their members safe. Regardless on how reckless they were. And yet, here they were again. Stronger for whatever it was that they were up to. Archie giggled as they got close to Odin’s Dominant. Something was definitely different…

Sebastian let out a sigh as he walked. The matters of the Eorzean Alliance were precarious since they were last here. Lost in his thoughts as he patrolled the streets of Ala Mhigo, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He felt something… watching him.

But there was nothing. He sighed, shaking his head. The new strength he had with Odin must be mistaken. Who would want to watch him? It's not like he had a reason to hide any further. As such, he returned to his patrol.

-------------------------------

Another day, another chance to follow the Dominant of Darkness. Archie was excited at the prospect. After all, he had noticed them! What greater joy that gave themself. No one ever truly realized they were there. None of the Scion’s dominants had before. And now, this one, this Sebastian… It was something that warranted direct attention. So they waited… for a day when the other Dominants were not nearby. To test a theory. A long ear directed his direction as he conversed with the Bull of Ala Mhigo. A curious sight indeed…

“And now we are back. Do we know what the Garleans are up to?” Sebastian was quick to start thinking of the Empire’s plans.

“Not a word. Their facility there is tighter than Lolorito’s purse.”

“Now that Thancred is back to form, he and…” Sebastian trailed off, his brow furrowing. “Do you feel that Raubhan?” 

Raubhan shrugged, “No? Is aught amiss?”

Sebastian looked to the space where Archie had just been. “No… It must have been nothing. Shall we continue this discussion with the others?”

“Of course. Would be wise to get the council of all the Scions.”

The pair turned to leave, Sebastian stealing one last look over his shoulder as Archie pushed away from the wall with a spring in their step, light folding around them as they vanished from view one last time.

-------------------------------

A few days later, Archie finally returned to Ala Mhigo. Their foray into Ilsabard and Werlyt was a success in their book. And now they perched high up looking for their favorite Dominant.

Surprisingly, they couldn’t sense his darkened presence. No matter where they looked, wherever they flitted in the time stream of this era.

“Found you.” 

Archie spun with a start, their favorite Dominant now pointing his blade at them. How had he snuck up on them?

“Who are you, and why are you here?” Sebastian commanded, then cocked his head. “What are you…?”

Slowly raising their hands, a small smirk graced their face. “Oh, my favorite little Dominant, I’m what you call a Masked Fool.” They burst out laughing even in the face of danger. “And I’m just like you… A Dominant.”

“A Dominant of what exactly?” Sebastian kept his blade firmly pointed towards the crazed Dominant. “And you didn’t answer my other question.”

With a snap, Archie vanished as the light around them folded inward, leaving just empty space for the Dominant of Darkness to threaten. Surprised, Sebastian lowered his weapon, quickly looking around for the other Dominant.

“I didn’t leave, and I truly mean you and your allies no harm.” Archie calmly said from behind him. 

Sebastian turned towards Archie with a frown. “Why have you been spying on me and my family?”

“Because you and your lot are the most fascinating group of Dominants in over a thousand years!” Archie threw up their hands in excitement, pacing back and forth on the small rooftop. “Do you understand how rare it is to get two Dominants to amicably work together for an extended period of time? Much less than five?” Their crazed smile returned as they seemed to start working up a frenzy.

“I’ve been with you all for months now, just hanging on the edge. I’m why some things have seemed just fortuitous enough. I’m why the Eikon hunters lose their trail and have to give up just in the nick of time. And now…” They get close, leaning down to be under Sebastian’s eye level. “I’ve got a new thing. Something special! I’ve prepared it just for you, Sebastian.”

His eyes narrowed. “And what is this special new thing?”

“Oh, don’t be so glum!” Archie clasped their hands together under their chin as they straightened back up. “You’ll like it! I think.”

Archie backs out of Sebastian’s space and starts to pace again. They start muttering quietly under their breath, leaving the Dominant of Darkness out of the loop. He sighs, “Hey, Fool? What is the special thing.”

“OH!” Archie snaps back to reality. “My sincerest apologies, I may have lost myself to a bit of time.” They grin and stand straight. “I know what the Garlean’s are planning in the region of Werlyt and I know that one of those things they’ve made is coming to the Ghimlyt Dark in about four days.” They lean back with sincerity.

Sebastian closes his eyes and puts a hand to his forehead. “Say I believe you, what is your proof?”

Archie freezes in place. “You… doubt me? The oldest living Dominant?” Fury starts to etch itself on their face. “I did you and your lot a favor, Sebastian, and suspicion is how I’m greeted? I may not be a Dominant from the start of this world, but I’ve been walking this face for several of your kind’s lifetimes.” They start to move towards Sebastian, the light around them causing the area to start to dim. 

Sebastian gripped the hilt of his blade. “Fool, you have been spouting nonsense since you arrived, how am I not supposed to doubt your words?”

“Clearly,” Archie spat the word towards Sebastian, “I should have let you all be surprised by the artificial dominants the VIIth legion has created? I should have let the Ruby Weapon just rocket past the Ghimlyt and into Gyr Abania proper?” 

As they approached Sebastian they seemed to get bigger and bigger, causing him to start to draw his weapon. When they were but a couple fulms away they suddenly stopped. The light retreated around them and they were soon back to their small size. “I am so sorry, my favorite little Dominant.” They bowed reverently. “I may have omitted details erroneously. I am quite forgetful in my old age.” They smiled sweetly, crossing their hands in front of their waist. “But you can ascertain from my words that I speak truth in four days. When the Ruby Weapon arrives in Ghimlyt with its stolen power. As my honor as a Dominant of this land, I speak the truth and hope that you can trust me to assist you in the defeat of this artificial Dominant.”

Sebastian kept his grip on his blade for several long moments, before he relaxed his grip with an annoyed sigh. “I’d rather not go on a wild chase, but you do have power, so you are a Dominant of something…” He looked up in confusion as Archie had vanished.

“A Dominant of Light!” they crowed from his shoulder, having just reappeared with a crazed grin. He moved away with a jolt. “Would you stop doing that?”

Archie seemed to think for a moment. “I cannot make any promises.” They said with a smirk as they leaned forward and touched their temple, their head jerking with an unseen wink.

“It will take some doing to get to the Ghimlyt Dark to stop this Ruby Weapon without justifiable cause, but I will try to see if you are speaking the truth.” Sebastian resolutely stated. “But if it is as serious as the Garleans making an artificial Dominant, then it should be investigated.”

“I guess, I’ll see you there.” Archie chuckled and started to walk off. They waved to Sebastian and called back over their shoulder. “Don’t keep a pretty Dominant waiting!” A moment later, light refracted around them, once more causing them to vanish from sight.

“Hells what have I gotten myself into…”

#ffxiv #ffxiv-ffxvi au (the other one) #on our fates alight

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

Vierapril - 26 - style

We all deserve to feel beautiful, and to have friends who remind us that we are. Or, the Dominants of Tsukuyomi/Tungli and Valefor enjoy a bit of well-deserved downtime.

(Riven belongs to @scrollsfromarebornrealm, as does the au in which this scene is set.)

#ffxiv #ffxiv-ffxvi au (the other one) #on our fates alight

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

wip--letter writer

(cut inserted for implied sexual content)

Margarat straightened, using a hand on Mathye's chest to brace herself. Now she was straddling him, and she had to admit that the view was particularly nice.

"So." She said, making herself comfortable. "Tural is it? I can see why you were asking for a penpal."

"What makes you think I already don't have penpals?" Mathye countered. "I thought I'd be nice. Give you something to look forward to considering the mountain of paperwork in your office you keep shirking." He grinned as Margarat narrowed her eyes.

"You know, I've never killed a man before. Especially one that's naked and helpless in bed." This earned her a sharp smile from Mathye, all white teeth with a flash of fang.

"I'd like to see you try." Giving into temptation, he reached up to gently trace his fingers up one of Margarat's forearms.

"You are aware the moment word gets out you're on the western continent every Thomas, Dickerson and Harris will be arriving in droves." Margarat spread her fingers, feeling the steady beat of Mathye's heart beneath her palm.

"We know. Can't be helped. Just hoping we get a little time to see what's going on before the waters get muddy." Mathye grunted as Margarat shifted position.

"And you're sure this...'threat' is legitimate?" She asked, making air-quotes with her fingers.

"No, which is why we want to investigate. It wouldn't hurt to confirm. If it's naught to be concerned about that's fine. If it is something to be worried about..." Mathye trailed off. "Then we're getting as much information as possible, maybe buy some time. I don't doubt that the Grand Alliance can defend themselves when it comes to it, but the state of everyone's military..."

"Is still poor." Margarat finished. Mathye nodded.

"Ishgard was only just getting back on its feet when the Final Days struck. And we got off lightly compared to Gridania and Ala Mhigo. And then there's Garlemald--if they were attacked, the Ilsabard Contingent would probably need more support and that's enough of a political mess as is." Margarat nodded, understanding.

#ffxiv #mathye bishop #ffxiv margarat #a wip #DEDICATED TO THE WALNUTS OF THE FC WHO INSTIGATED THIS

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

If u want to write a story about a character that’s just you but hotter with a dark twisted backstory and magical powers and a pet falcon or something, I think u should just go ahead and do that. Who’s gonna stop you? The government?? Fuck the police.

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

A Night at the Opera

For @scrollsfromarebornrealm 's Our Fates Alight

Characters: U'rahn Nuhn, U'khuba Tia, Claudien, Y'lem Tia, Y'zel Tia

Rating: T for dominanT

Notes: Thank you to @scrollsfromarebornrealm for letting me play in the sandbox and to @scalefeathers and @biot08 all the editing!!

U'rahn had never felt so moved. Tears were streaming down his face, watching as a blue-haired Miqo'te sang to a Dragoon knight as he died in their arms. He could almost not believe this was on stage, the white-freckled contra tenor sounding anguished at the death of their lover.

“Oh stop blubbering. You don't even know what they're saying,” a voice hissed at his side.

U'rahn turned, ears folded and tail thrashing as his cousin U’khuba watched through gilded opera glasses. The Nuhn crossed his arms and huffed as the sorrowful voice radiated through the theater. 

“I don't need to! You can just tell by the singing. The blue-haired Miqo is sad that his dad killed his knight after trying to get him to stay away!”

“Not even close…and get out your kerchief. You're getting puffy and I need you to look presentable.”

U'rahn grunted then did as he was told, wiping his face. Deeper in their box, he heard a chuckle, making him turn around. Their coveted box had come with a guard, a blond Hyur with fiery orange eyes and crimson armor. The Nuhn had thought him a bit rude, not in anything he'd done to him and his cousin, but that instead of enjoying the opera he'd taken to reading a pile of tomes.

“Hey hey! You laughin’ at me?” U'rahn hissed into the back.

“Just your interesting interpretation of the events on stage,” the Hyur answered.

“Yeah, well. What would you know? You haven't watched any of it!”

The guard shook his head and closed his book before coming to kneel beside U'rahn as the Miqo'te continued to sing, hand reaching up toward the aetherically projected twin moons. “They are Maria, the first Dominant of Menphina. She is mourning for her lover, Draco, who has just been slain by Prince Ralse for interrupting their wedding. Maria was promised to Ralse when the Knight didn't return from war and knew she'd leave with him back to his home country. She mourns her lost love but she also fears now that war will come again because of Ralse’s actions. Though the Prince struck down her love in a fit of jealousy, she knows he is ultimately good, loves his people, and that Draco who also had loved his country would not want another war. So, she prays to Menphina to grant her the power to prevent such a war and thus…”

As he trailed, the Miqo'te started to glow, light shining upon him to make it look as if they were priming under the moonlight. Wings were pulled from their gown from wires as they lowered down to kiss the knight in their arms.

U'rahn looked in awe before turning to the guard, finding them in a fierce glare into his pages, as if he might set the pages aflame with his stare. Swallowing nervously, he looked away in time to watch the glowing fade and the Miqo'te fall against the Knight’s chest as he stirred back to life. The man soon let out a melodic wail of anguish.

“The fate of all chosen by Menphina. To die for those they love. A one time miracle. 

Now, united in grief and love, Draco and Ralse can honor her memory by pledging peace between themselves and their kingdoms,” the guard finished.

U'rahn lowered his ears, rubbing at his eyes while U'khuba scoffed, “Drama for drama’s sake.”

“Shut up - Shut up! She loved everyone so much she sacrificed herself to make sure they would be united in love instead of divided by hurt,” the Nuhn yelled back at his cousin.

His ears perked as he noticed the music stopped. All eyes were upon their box now in the wake of his shouting. Chuckling nervously, he looked out to the crowd then down to the stage. The blue-haired Miqo'te too had sat up from their death, staring a moment before starting to let out a melodic laugh. Soon the entirety of the opera house joined in, cementing the two Drakes’ embarrassment. 

“I think our esteemed guests from Thanalan have summed this number up nicely for us this evening,” the contra tenor sounded out before standing, “so I believe it's time for an intermission. We will return with ‘I Want to Be Your Canary’ after the break.”

The theater rumbled as the lights came back on, leaving the two Drake men to get up and stretch their legs. U'rahn laughed nervously as he looked to his cousin. “Looks like we got a friendly reprieve.”

“We're lucky we're not being thrown out. Don't forget why we're here. Let's make our entrance now before you have a chance to screw this up,” U'khuba spat before turning to the guard, “Sir, if you'd kindly take us to see the star?”

The blond-haired man stood, giving a small nod before turning to lead the two from their box and down to the rooms below the stage. U'rahn was careful to keep his tail tucked and ears alert, people running through with props and costumes to ready the next show. He couldn't help but smile, everyone seeming so passionate and cheerful despite the labor it seemed to take to put on such a production. Approaching a door with a little moon on it, he swallowed, then let his guide knock.

“Go away,” a rough voice sounded out.

“Master Y’lem. Our esteemed guests have come to meet our star, as per their special tickets.”

U'rahn watched the guard roll his eyes as annoyed muttering came from within. The door soon was flung open with a stern-looking white-haired Miqo'te at the knob. His sea-coloured eyes flitted from the guard then to U'rahn and U'khuba before he forced a smile. “Right. Apologies. I suppose you paid good money for an audience with our star. Claudien, stand watch and I shall fetch some tea.”

Y'lem brushed past them, looking back momentarily before heading forward. The guard, Claudien, moved to hold the door open to let the two Seekers through before shutting it behind them. U'rahn rubbed his nose as the oppressive scent of lilies came from all directions, the room nearly blanketed in vases. On a lounge, the blue-haired Miqo'te was laid out, listlessly turning one of the flower’s stems in his fingers before sitting up.

“Oh. Hello. You're the enthusiastic gentleman from the box,” they said quietly, noticing U'rahn's discomfort before continuing, “Apologies. I made the mistake once of saying Nymeian Lilies are my favourite and now every show my room becomes somewhat of a field for them.”

“I'll be okay in a minute. Strong smells are tough on me,” the Nuhn said, taking in a breath before letting go of his face to give a deep bow, “I am U'rahn Nuhn, of the Sagoli Drake tribe and this is my cousin and Officer of Coin, U'khuba.”

“It is an honor to be in your presence, Y'zel Tia,” U’khuba added with a diplomatic bow.

“I'm sure that's just the magick of stage talking. I am nothing special, especially without my beloved patrons who support me. Ah, has my father truly left us so that you may speak freely?”

U'rahn stood back up then gave a nod and as his chin lifted the singer was upon their feet and into Claudien’s arms. The Miqo'te was taken aback at the two stealing a kiss before him. “Ex-Excuse us! U'khuba what do we do here?”

U'khuba was silent, head looking the other way as if preoccupied with another thought, much to U'rahn's disbelief. The singer soon parted, turning to their guests, eyes glowing an ice blue as Claudien covered his mouth and looked away with a slight tint of crimson upon his cheeks. “Please, forgive me. My father would separate us if he knew I'd fallen for my Hound.”

The primed Miqo'te reached out, taking U'rahn's hand into their own. “A secret. Between new friends?”

“Right right! A secret. I don't have a reason to say anything anyway! Er…um…your Dominant-ness?”

“Y'zel, please.” they answered, studying U'rahn's face, “You are somehow unaffected by my gifts. How refreshing! Come, sit and tell me what you really thought of the play.”

U'rahn felt himself being pulled to the lounge, sitting as instructed while looking to U’khuba who just seemed to be in a happy daze in Y'zel's presence while Claudien stepped back to the door, face already planted in another book. “Uh. I liked it. It was kinda sad though at the end. It kinda reminded me of the storytales my mom would read to me about knights and princesses…or rather, it looked like one. To be honest, I couldn't really understand what was being said all too well. Your uh…knight over there filled me in though. Khuba didn't seem to care for it.”

“Nonsense. You were a pearl upon the stage. That we could linger here and come to your shows…but no, our duty will pull us from you,” U’khuba lamented, pushing up his glasses.

“Uh….you okay cousin?”

“He’s been more or less thralled. Don't worry though. It's a temporary effect. As an Eikon I don't have much power beyond that of self-defense and support. My voice can charm others, even if I'm not primed. Perhaps because those chosen by Menphina do not have very long lives to begin with…”

U'rahn's ears and tail perked, “Ah! Right right! That's why we're here!”

The Nuhn stood, pushing his cousin out of the way given that he seemed unable to help. “Listen. I know you must hear this a lot, but we came here to recruit you as our Dominant! U'khuba had a bunch of reasons why to sell you on it…and I forget them, but I can tell you why we need you.”

U'rahn quickly dug out a piece of paper from his pocket and began to read from it. “As the Nuhn of my village, it is my duty to see my people are safe. The Forgotten Springs, where we live, and our friends in Little Ala Mhigo are under constant threat of the forces of the Amalj’aa armies as well as the constant encroaching of our lands by Ul’dah, and the ever present threat of our greatest foe: the sandworms.

“You,” he continued, holding out his hand toward the singer, “You who have been said to turn a raging behemoth into a timid puppy with your voice alone would be our greatest defense to cull the fiery spirits of those who seek to encroach upon our territories.

“We have little to offer, but our springs are renowned across Thanalan and our teas are some of the finest harvested in Eorzea. You'd…you'd want for nothing and as uh…as uh…the Nuhn of the Drake I would take it upon myself to become your new Hound.”

U’rahn lowered his head then got on one knee, holding out a small golden stone. “Please accept this rare sunstone and consider our request.”

Y'zel stared a moment then shook their head. Reaching out, they delicately ran their hands over U'rahn's fingers to enclose them about the stone.“You love your village, so deeply. That warms my heart.”

U'rahn looked up, eyes wide and ears perked, “So you will come?”

The singer sighed, hand brushing over the other's fingers to close them around the stone. “No.”

The Nuhn's ears and tail immediately went limp in the wake of the simple answer. His eyes flitted about, unsure what to do. Before he could question why, Y'zel stood and went to sit by their mirror with a sigh.

“I am not what you think. I'd be no use to your cause. My powers, for one, do not work on my Eikon brothers and sisters nor those blessed like yourself. If you fear Ifrit then I'd be able to do little more than mute the tempering of their followers, and only temporarily. Then there's the matter of how little control I have over my abilities. I'd fear your people would mistake me for a leader or find some other way to thrust their love on me.”

“You'd be far better than the one we have now,” U'khuba echoed.

“You see,” the dominant said.

“No…no. He'd say that if he wasn't er…”

“Moonstruck is the colloquial term,” Y'zel answered, watching the Nuhn mouth out the word ‘colloquial’ in confusion, “No, I belong on the stage. If I am to touch the hearts of others I should see that it is earned through something worthy of their love and not just for existing as the Lover’s chosen. My singing is something that can stay with them long after they're away from my influence…and maybe that will be enough to sustain them for a bit when the world becomes cruel.”

“Maybe it will be different with us. You don't have to impress us or anything. And Ul’dah could definitely use some love,” U'rahn said, feeling the futility rising, “Who says this is the only way to feel loved?”

Y'zel went silent for a moment. “It might not be, but I have precious little time to find any other way. My destiny,” they started, interrupting as Claudien slammed his book shut and gruffly left the room, “My destiny is to make sure that I use my ultimate power to keep a spark of love alive.”

“Like Maria…”

“Yes, like Maria and all the Lovers that came after her. I will gladly give myself over to make the world better for the people I love,” Y'zel said, placing their hand over their heart.

U'rahn let out a grunt, a flash of a memory coming across his mind as he heard a forgotten voice and saw a pair of scared blue eyes.

“I will gladly give myself over to save this star for the people I love.”

Shaking it off, he stood upright. “I think…I get it…”

Y'zel nodded, turning in they chair with a soft smile, “It seems you do. I'm sure with the love you have for your village you will find a means to protect your homeland.”

U'rahn looked up then beamed at the other, heart swelling with reassurance. Satisfied with his rejection he tilted his head and scratched his chin hairs. “Say…uh. I don't suppose you might know where I might find my most precious someone, do you?”

Y'zel’s ear twitched as they scowled, though it was largely missed by the Nuhn as he lightly jabbed at his cousin, only to be swatted away. Turning, the singer thought then smiled before pulling out a deck of old cards. “Ah. Well, let's see here,” they said, taking three arbitrarily from the deck.

U'rahn scooted behind the singer's chair, looking at the spread. Y'zel hummed, positioning them just right before pointing to the first card, a heart with swords stabbed through it. “Your soulmate card. Someone loves you deeply but they cannot reach you and might never, but that is okay. All will ultimately reunite again through the aetherial sea.”

“Aw…but, there's two more?”

“Yes, the middle one is your future love, though don't engrain this to your heart as these things are always in flux,” they said, pointing to a card, a half-moon.

“Who's that going to be?”

“I cannot say, this card represents natural duality but it is upside down which means it might be artificial in nature. Perhaps it's saying you will have to work hard to find this love or it will be someone that manifests at the right time. On stage we call that a ‘deus ex machina’.

“Uh…huh…wait. There's one more? Is that not my future too,” he asked, tapping the card picturing two men on a battlefield with swords crossed, it too upside down.

“The last is your present. Tell me…do you have a rival?”

U'rahn nodded, “M’zhet Tia! He's a wannabe Nuhn and I hate his dumb smug face.”

“I see. And do you often spend time thinking of him?”

“Just how I'm going to win our next fight. What are you saying? Does he have a sister into me?”

Y'zel turned, looking up innocently at the other, “Well no. But they do say that hate has a thin line with love.”

The Nuhn stared a moment then turned crimson. “Ah. Well, look at the time! We should be getting in our seats before the next show. Good luck! C’mon Khuba,” he said rapidly before grabbing his cousin’s arm and dragging him out of the room.

Returning with tea, Y'lem entered, brow raised as Claudien followed in from behind. “Fended off another adoring fan?” their father asked.

“No, this one was earnest and sought me as an Eikon of all things. A good lad but a bit gullible.”

Y'lem poured them a cup each before handing a saucer over to Y'zel, noting the spread on the table, “Playing the soothsayer again? You really shouldn't tease people like that.”

“I cannot help it. I am not a matchmaker nor psychic. I have to have my fun now and then,” the singer sighed.

Claudien cleared this throat a bit as he was handed tea as well, “The next production begins shortly. After that, the company should relocate. There's been word of that gilded Eikon hunter skulking about and I don't want to tarry longer than we have. I say we go east, perhaps to Corvos or beyond to Werlyt. Maybe return to Old Sharlayan. There are matters which I'd like to look into when we have a chance to return home.”

Y'zel looked up quietly to Claudien through his mirror then away. “Yes, I suppose we have overstayed our welcome here. I can only pray that my fellow Eikons, wherever they are, remain safe from his hands.”

#ffxiv #ffxiv-ffxvi au (the other one) #on our fates alight

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

#ffxiv #estinien varlineau

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

the world unsundered--wip: forsaken

under a cut for gore

------------

It was a squelch that made Lucis stop and look down. He'd stepped into a red pool. The smell of copper and death filled his nose and Lucis gagged. Cupping a hand over his mouth and nose, habit made him look around, trying to track the blood pool--

Only for him to meet the familiar violet eyes of Chiron. Dizzying relief soared within Lucis at seeing his friend...but...wait.

Something--

something wasn't quite right. There were Chiron's eyes, his short black hair, if Lucis squinted hard enough there were his blue highlights, but...why was there a pool under his...neck...

He was standing in his best friend's blood.

Looking at his decapitated head.

Lucis screamed. He screamed, stumbling, falling to his knees--blood now everywhere, staining his shoes, his robes, his hands. Chiron continued staring at him, eyes sightless, lips parted. His body was some feet away--armor ripped and torn, his staff broken in two. Next to his corpse was Diomedes--impaled into the dirt by some monster's talon. A hand was stretched out toward his twin--Chiron's corpse had reached out a hand as well--their fingertips just barely touching.

Behind them was Hector. He lay upon the stone street, limbs twisted all the wrong way--as if he'd been thrown like a child's toy. Blood trickled from his lips, and his spear was nowhere to be found. Lucis stared at him, at Diomedes, at Chiron--

His brothers, sworn to them by blood, closer than family--they were dead, they were deadtheyweredead-

They couldn't be. They couldn't be dead. A nightmare. He had to be in a nightmare. He'd wake up in a moment, maybe they were out in the wilds--he'd wake up by the campfire and see them with him, see them still alive and breathing. On his hands and knees Lucis crawled to the bodies, harsh sobs escaping him with every movement.

They couldn't be dead. It was a nightmare. He'd wake up, they'd be alive and whole and any minute now Junia would join them--

Junia.

Everything around Lucis seemed to freeze.

Junia.

Where was Junia?

Big brother...

He'd...left them alone. Hadn't gone with them.

Big brother--

They would die before she did. All of them would. He would die before her. To keep her safe...

Big brother!

Chiron's body, Diomedes' body, Hector's body... Panting and whimpering, Lucis scrambled to his feet. He turned around in a circle, looking--this area of Amarout was filled with corpses, man and monster, the entire city was nothing but a charnel house--

Please let her be safe, please let her be safe, please pleasepleaseplease--

Another corpse, lying not far from Hector.

Please!

Armor sliced to ribbons.

Please no.

Long brown hair. Junia's pride and glory, they used to create flower-crowns for her to wear--

No.

Blood everywhere. Too much for one small body to contain it all-

No.

Her cheek was resting on the stone, eyes closed as if she was sleeping.

Please no.

He was remembering a life now, the moment that she was placed into his arms as a newborn baby, shocked at the weight against his skin and the cries of a indignant new soul--

No, please--

She wasn't supposed to be on the ground. She wasn't supposed to be bleeding. This...this was wrong. It was all wrong--he was in a nightmare. He was in a nightmare and in just a minute he'd wake up, he'd wake up--

Junia!

He'd wake up and she'd be breathing, they'd all be breathing-

Big brother--

They'd be breathing.

I love you.

They'd be breathing--

Lucis...

She'd be breathing...he wouldn't...have left her to die...

#ffxiv #ffxiv azem #ffxiv ancients

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

Vierapril - 21 - pure

And I, infinitesima­l being, drunk with the great starry void, likeness, image of mystery, I felt myself a pure part of the abyss, I wheeled with the stars, my heart broke loose on the wind.

—Pablo Neruda

#ffxiv

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

when I can't draw something and get frustrated, I go back to my little meow meow and all is well again. my comfort zone elezen 😭

also i'm wondering if he ever wears his hair to one side

#ffxiv #estinien varlineau

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

Thank you to those who donated and reblogged! I have just enough to squeak to the next paycheck 🥹

irl interjection...

I hate doing this but I don't have a choice. Last week I went to fix my car. Then as I was leaving the shop, it froze on me, and left me trapped on a very busy street where I live. I called a tow truck company that forced me to pay before they would come and help, and they never showed. I'm in the process of disputing the payment with my bank, but in the meantime...yeah I'm broke and even should I win the dispute, it'll take a while for the money to come in. If anyone can spare anything-- I have a goal of $120, it would be very much appreciated 🥺

kofi: https://ko-fi.com/ht_macintyre

cashapp: $pileobooks

PayPal: womanwithapen

Thank you

#non ffxiv #thank you

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

No particular reason why he's asking

#ffxiv #estinien varlineau

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

zzz zz

#ffxiv #estinien varlineau