#(and she really looks up to raubahn and respects him much as she does her father. but she only sees him when shit hits the fan :c)

[the-rogue-mockingjay]

The Scions' opinions of important political meetings and Alliance war councils, a thread:

Estinien: if Aymeric won't be there, okeydokey, whatever 👍 but if Aymeric WILL be there, absolutely not!! being subjected to questions like "my friend! what've you been up to?" and "how are you?" is more than he feels like dealing with tbh. also if he has to suffer Aymeric bullying him about his lack of money sense one more time he's dragoon jumping out the window

Krile: politics aren't my forte but if you need me to, I'll go :)

Alisaie: UUUUGGGHHHH [bangs head on table]

Alphinaud: this is his natural habitat. it is also where he's most powerful, so beware !!

Thancred: putting that PhD in espionage to good use and helping his friends/allies in so doing is good for his health (and his self-esteem)

Y'shtola: sometimes it's a tasty problem to chew on and sometimes it's just annoying. if Garlemald is involved, it's probably the latter

Urianger: he's been invited to exactly two meetings out of like 30 and only attended one (and showed up unannounced to another). he'd rather stay home and do nerd shit or go scouting with Thancred. we stan an introverted nerd king ✌️

G'raha Tia: just happy to be brought along for the ride ❤️ no situation is unbearable so long as he's by his inspiration's side 😊

O'ravi: [doodling chibis of her friends on the back of a report and scribbling hearts around them] wydm this is "work", i'm just hanging out with my boyfriend and my besties

#this post brought to you by: how elated i am every time the msq sends me to an alliance meeting #because it's the only time i get to see aymeric outside of frigging heavensward #and every time o'ravi joins one of those meetings it's brain empy no thoughts. she's just vibing #the world may be exploding and everything might be shit but look!! so many of her friends in one room!!!!! it calms her #(and distracts her. but you can't blame a girl- ayms and hien are super cute and she so rarely gets to talk to them in person) #(and she really looks up to raubahn and respects him much as she does her father. but she only sees him when shit hits the fan :c) #also the way raha is not too bothered by things and is just happy he's alive to see it even if it's bad is equally concerning and admirable #can't explain why tho #and estinien lurking in the background arms crossed listening and saying nothing is a whole ass mood lol. me too buddy. me too #ffxiv #scions of the seventh dawn #estinien varlineau #krile baldesion #alisaie leveilleur #alphinaud leveilleur #thancred waters #y'shtola rhul #urianger augurelt #g'raha tia #o'ravi soltholia

[dainesanddaffodils]

(I realize, half-way through Heavensward, that I still have this in drafts so I'm going to post it now)

Finishing A Realm Reborn, I've decided to make a post about my warrior of light's relationships with the scions/major NPCs, which I'll then recreate at the end of each expansion as a fun way to track how she and these characters grow and change.

Without further ado - Cimorene Geneq's POST-ARR Relationship Vibes

Minfilia - her boss! a very nice boss, don't get her wrong, but her boss nonetheless. Would love to get to know her better but there's never a good time plus she feels like Minfilia is probably the type to be like 'you have to be at least a level 5 friend to unlock my tragic backstory' and Cimorene is like level 3 at best. still likes her though.

Alphinaud - the younger cousin that's closest to you in age that everyone groups you with at the family functions. She would kill anyone who looked sideways at him - and got very very worried about him when the Bloody Banquet went down - but also oooof did she want some space from him sometimes.

Y'shtola - at first incredibly intimidated by her, but that's faded and now she's probably the only scion she would call a Friend. still in like the work-friend sense but like, she would get a drink with her and listen to her talk shit any day of the week.

Thancred - an instant infatuation that faded just as quickly once she realized his charm was mostly surface level lmao Is a little unsure how to interact with him post-lahabrea nonsense as, more than anything, it drove home that she really didn't know him that well beforehand and, like with Minifillia, she feels like there's a barrier keeping her from knowing him better.

Tataru - I, Tangy the player, had a Boring Office Job for a while where the highlight was the very sweet receptionist who also knew all the fun gossip. This is what Tataru is for Cimorene. absolute joy to talk to, want nothing but good things for her.

Yda - a little too high energy to be a work-friend like Y'shtola or even Tataru, but similarly wants nothing but good things for her. will take her side when Papalymo gets on her for anything - in part just because it's kinda funny to watch his reaction when she does.

Papalymo: I, Tangy the player, adore him and therefor so does Cimorene. he and Yda were her first scion allies and she will always have a soft spot in her heart for that.

Urianger - he gives her the heebie-jeebies. he has nothing else to give.

Moenbryda - too good for this world. Cimorene is sad about her death but is also sad about the fact that everyone else is obviously SADDER about it. It's not the first time she feels somewhat isolated from the other Scions, but it does kinda push her to want to change that. (Then the Bloody Banquet happens lmao)

(outside the Scions)

Kan-E - similar feels-like-my-boss energy as Minfillia, except Kan-E isn't even Cimorene's boss. Respectful professional distance and happy to keep it that way.

Merlwyb - Cimorene loves the sea so she chose to join the Maelstrom for that alone. That being said, she does like and respect Merlwyb a lot and doesn't think she'll ever regret her choice.

Raubahn - Didn't know what to think of him early on, and already didn't like Ul-Dah BEFORE shit went down there. Regrets not getting to know him better earlier now that she knows he's a Real One (tm). Cares about him a lot by the end of... you know. Everything.

Nanamo - Man, Tangy the player doesn't know how to describe the relationship between you and someone you, once again, had a respectful but mostly distant relationship who then winds up getting poisoned in front of you, completely altering the trajectory of your life. And neither does Cimorene.

Haurchefant - Love At First Sight, genuinely. I've talked about this so much before but I cannot stress enough how much it took me, Tangy the player, by surprise. she knows he feels the same because as we all know he is Not Subtle about it, but she'd also still really like to have a moment of privacy where they can actually say - or do - something about it.

Aymeric - right now she considers him the Ishgard equivalent of the other city state leaders and, in spite his best efforts she knows, she remains somewhat intimidated by him. he's kind but just. Very Formal. in that very Ishgard way that she doesn't know how to respond to (which is in part why she is so taken with Haurchefant)

-

that's really the main ARR players that Cimorene has any real strong feelings towards so that's where I'll leave it.

We'll see what happens through Heavensward and I'll post again lol

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv wol #a realm reborn #this is mostly for me but if my other like 3 final fantasy playing mutuals wanna see my character thoughts #here they are

[autumnslance]

I assume all the Scions have a betting pool for when Aeryn and Thancred finally and formally become a couple, including details as who makes the first move and where it happens.

…Oh, anon.

Kinda?

Some (like our dear Alphinaud) are oblivious. Y’shtola has the fun job of being both their secret confidantes and she is Not Happy with either of them about it while realizing the necessity. Lyse doesn’t like the betting pool (yet still has some gil in it). As for the rest of their friends?

…I…have a silly draft…which is actually after they’re finally a Thing, but keeping it on the downlow for Reasons, and is set literally the night before the Council meeting in 4.4 where the Call begins to snag the Scions...and heck, here have a really rough draft snippet under the cut:

————

“There are chambers prepared for everyone,” Thancred said. “Lyse did rather well organizing it all. Gives everyone time to rest up properly before tomorrow’s main event.”

“A moment to rest? How novel,” Aeryn said.

“Your quarters are on the way to mine,” Thancred said. “I can show you.”

She nodded. “Unless there’s anything else, Y’shtola…?”

“No, I believe we are all caught up ‘til tomorrow. Rest well.” She managed to keep a straight face as the other two Scions nodded and walked off.

“Do they honestly believe they are fooling anyone?” Merlwyb asked dryly from somewhere behind and to Y’shtola’s right.

She did grin this time, as she turned to look up at the Admiral. “Well, there are a few who have yet to catch on. ‘Tis their business.”

“Indeed,” Raubahn agreed as he joined them. “Still, ‘twould be nice to be openly pleased for them both. I’ve known Thancred for several years now; he seems truly happy in her presence.”

“As does she in his,” Kan-E sighed. “For all she, and the rest of the Scions, do for this realm, they deserve a touch of happiness.”

“Hrmph.” Merlwyb crossed her arms, a smile tugging at her lips. “I do think certain lord commanders might be disappointed, should the winds carry words to his icy halls.”

Y’shtola shook her head. “I think not; he has more sense, and I feel ‘twas but a passing fancy. After all she did for Ishgard, and him personally, it was not unexpected. In the end, however, I do believe he is satisfied with her friendship.”

Besides, Y’shtola knew, not only had Aeryn been utterly oblivious to Aymeric’s careful–and oft infuriatingly proper–flirtations, but she had still been mourning Haurchefant, Ysayle, and Minfilia at the time. So much had happened during their adventures in Ishgard; perhaps, had things been different, Aeryn might have been coaxed into noticing the lord commander’s interest.

Then again, Thancred had been back by that point.

Y’shtola shrugged. “I only ask we respect their privacy, and play along for now. They will reveal all–or not–in their own time.”

“Or one of their less discreet companions discovers their affair and tells all,” Merlwyb said. “My money’s on Alisaie.”

“Lyse,” Raubahn countered. “She’s one of Aeryn’s best friends.”

“Seedseer?” Merlwyb looked down at the padjal.

“Hrm. Arenvald,” she answered. “He is easily flustered, and this would certainly do so.”

Y’shtola suppressed a laugh. The friendly wagers were not unusual between the trio, though the subject perhaps was. Thancred had known the three leaders long enough to be resigned to his fate; Aeryn might be shocked, though in the end, perhaps find embarrassed amusement in the situation. “I shall keep that in mind, and of course let you know,” Y’shtola said. It was not the first time she had been used as witness to their wagers, either.

“‘Tis done then,” Merlwyb said, arms dropping to her side as she straightened. “For now, we should perhaps retire to our own chambers and actually rest before tomorrow’s work.”

#Final Fantasy XIV #Y'shtola Rhul #Raubahn Aldynn #Kan-E-Senna #merlwyb bloefhiswyn #Thancred Waters #Thancred x WoL #Stormblood #Shippy nonsense #Lyn Writing #Aeryn Prompts #Aeryn Striker

[jenovahh]

The Honey Pot - 2

This was originally titled “Black Rose” but i’ve finally settled on a title \o/

===========================================================

“They’re making you go after who?!”

You wince slightly at your friend’s shrill scream of outrage, bowing slightly in apology to the other customers in the restaurant.

“Lyse, you really need to keep your voice down,” You try to hush her, pushing her bowl of noodles a bit closer to her person. Her sparkling blue eyes are aflame in anger, hand roughly snatching the bowl so quickly that broth sloshes onto the table. Her blonde hair is tied up high in a ponytail, her police uniform clean and pressed. 

“How can I be quiet when they are having you do such a high level mission?!” She snarls, all but shoving her chopsticks into her food.

“Really Lyse, her captain wouldn’t have given her the assignment if she didn’t think she wasn’t capable.” Y’shtola chimes in, ever the calm to Lyse’s occasional hotheadedness. “Though I must admit, I have my reservations...” She trails off, brows furrowing. “Also, could you tell me where my chopsticks are?”

“Three o’ clock.” You and Lyse reply, to which the Miqo’te woman thanks you. Though blind, Y’shtola was a nurse at a local hospital, and though she did not work directly with you and Lyse, you had often bumped into her enough times on calls to make her acquaintance. With delicate hands, she picks up her chopsticks and begins to eat.

“Look guys,” you begin, taking a sip of your soda, “I’m nervous too, but like ‘Shtola said, I don’t think the captain would give me this mission if she didn’t believe in me.” Picking up your chopsticks as well, you lightly stir the noodles in the broth, resting your chin on your free hand. “Besides...if this mission goes well, imagine what it could mean for me in the long run? A promotion? Climbing up the ranks?”

“A promotion? In this economy?” Lyse snorts, pausing to slurp up some more noodles. “According to the files, no one even really knows much about the guy’s son anyway and they’re just throwing you in there on a hunch! You said in the reports that this Zenos guy right,”

Y’shtola has to stop herself from clapping a hand over her friend’s stupid mouth. “Lyse! Be careful!” She hisses, tail frizzing up.

“What else am I supposed to call him? We don’t know shit about him right?” Lyse defends, pointing her utensils at the riled Miqo’te. “They are feeding our friend to the wolves Y’shtola! I have a right to give the captain a piece of my mind,” You stop your friend’s tirade by reaching across the table and flicking her square in the forehead. “Ow! What did you do that for?!” She whines, rubbing at the offended spot.

“Lyse, while I appreciate your concern,” you begin diplomatically, giving her a small smile, “I’m not worried about this mission at all. In fact I’m a little excited.” You admit, your smile growing wider.

“Only someone as crazy as yourself would be eager to go fight the son of a crime lord...” Lyse grumbles, not at all hiding her pout. “Regardless, you promise to be careful, won’t you?” Y’shtola presses, her voice leaving no room for argument.

“Of course ‘Shtola. I would never be anything less.” You grin, steering the conversation onto easier, more pleasant topics such as Y’shtola’s relationship with her boyfriend Runar and Lyse fending off coworkers who can’t take no for an answer. 

The next day finds you back at headquarters preparing for a debriefing. Your name is no longer yours it feels like, being written away like that one movie you watched as a kid. Honey is the name you are given, and though it is a bit masculine, you find yourself unable to care. It isn’t your name, and that’s what matters.

“So, Honey, here’s how we’re going to weasel you into the crime underworld.” Merlwyb’s voice carries clearly in the room, Raubahn sitting casually at his desk, but his eyes are as hard as ever. You turn your eyes to the projection on the wall, showcasing the Rakuza District. It’s certainly not the seediest place in the city, but even you wouldn’t go out of your way to go there. 

“Word on the street is every once in awhile, you can catch a few decent brawls down there. Simple stuff, some petty gangs getting together to strut their stuff. None of them are anywhere near the level Varis is on in terms of their ‘goods’, but still they attract Zenos’ attention all the same.” The slide shuffles over to a seemingly abandoned warehouse. “Rumor has it that Zenos himself has been known to grace these lowlives with his presence in hopes of a challenge.”

“You’ll be working closely with another operative, whose code name is Thancred. We’ve had him slithering into a low level gang called the Marauders; all they do is petty crime. Break into a few jewelry stores, rob some gas stations. My twelve year old could take on these chumps.” She scoffs in disdain, complete with an eye roll. “We could clean these guys off the streets any day. But what matters is they’re our in; you’re going to join them under the guise of being a new recruit. Showing up on your own would look too suspicious.” She crosses her long arms pinning you with her stare. “I’m sure you understand that you must use whatever means necessary to catch his attention.” 

You definitely catch what she’s implying, and resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Hopefully he’s just interested in a good fight and nothing else.” You sigh, shifting in your seat. Merlwyb nods and gestures to Raubahn, who then speaks.

“We want you to look the part, play the part as much as possible. Don’t worry about any small theft or crime they have you participate in; it’ll be cleared from your record. We need you to be as convincing as possible. These people are smart Honey, the top of their class. Do what you must to get the info, but most importantly do what you must to stay alive.”

You nod in understanding, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You are moved to a new apartment on a different side of town from your own, given a different car, a different ID, a different wardrobe.

You wonder if it’d be too much to ask them to let you keep it all. After all your thighs do look amazing in fishnet tights and tight leather shorts, a snug leather vest sitting just so under your breasts atop a red tanktop. Your favorite fighting gloves adorned your hands; the only real leather you owned prior to this whole operation. With your combat boots and some black eyeliner, you finished off what you hoped was a bad girl look. You had binged on a few movies to try and get the look as close as possible.

“Hey baby, how you doin?”

Well it seemed to get the “right” attention anyway. The first few weeks at the Marauders are surprisingly uneventful, the hideout seeming restless as if waiting for some action. Sure enough Merlwyb’s words ring true. They’re nowhere near the level of crime that the Galvuses are. It’s just a group of big, burly men and women acting tough, Maetifyst heralding as their leader. He’s certainly the biggest and burliest of them all, and Thancred warns you to steer clear of him at all costs.

You do your best to hold your own, not at all trained in matters of espionage. You decide that aloof and mysterious is the best persona to take on; aloof to the point of oddity. That strangeness seems to give you a negative reputation in the gang, though it is soon bolstered with respect when you start winning your first infights. The members of the gang are all worse than amateurs compared to your training, with zero combat experience and used to simply throwing their weight around at whoever pisses them off. There are a few who approach you in challenge, thinking themselves bigger and smarter, only for you to send them packing and running to get patched up with their tail between their legs.

It is your talent however, that puts you right in the way of Maetifyst. 

“You’re tough lil’ cookie ain’t cha?” The Roegadyn’s green skin somehow glows warmly in the light of his makeshift office, looking deceptively decent somehow in this abandoned warehouse. Dressed in a stark black suit and his hair styled upwards, he certainly carries himself as the boss. “Checkin’ up on new recruits ain’t much to me. All I need is muscle who will do as they’re told. You however...” his eyes run across you in a way that had you not needed to be undercover, your fist would be through his chest. “You might be just what we need.”

You pause for a moment to tilt your head. “Need for what?” You ask, playing the innocent doe.

“Tell me girl, have you ever heard of the Galvuses?” His voice his hushed now, his hand reaching to pour himself a glass of whiskey from a nearby bottle. He gently grabs a nearby glass, pouring the liquor smoothly until it is half full.

You take another moment to pause before answering. “You mean like the businessmen?” You question, watching as the man smirks.

“Aye, the businessmen. ‘Cept they ain’t no businessmen. They’s some right crooks, that they are.” He chortles, swirling the liquor in its glass. “The Galvuses have little people like us under their heel yeah? Might shock ya to know, but they’re actual crime bosses; like the ones in the movies.” He reclines in his chair, knocking back the whole glass and slamming it on the table when he’s done. “And we’re sick of ‘em.”

You lean forward slightly to show your interest. “Do they...bully you or something?” You ask, wincing at your choice of words. Maetifyst seems to not notice, instead bellowing in laughter, eyes twinkling with mirth.

“S’pose you could say that huh?” He chuckles, crossing one leg over the other. “When it comes to crime in Kugane, we answer to them in a way. Ya see we deal in DVDs, watches, even some cheap drugs on the side. But it’s not the real stuff. It ain’t Black Rose.”

You do your best to hide your spike of interest, fighting to remain aloof as Maetifyst just gives himself away. He must really want you to worm your way into the Galvuses’ gang to be giving away this info for free. “Black Rose...isn’t that,”

“It’s the good stuff.” He chuckles. “Students love the shit, yeah? For awhile the Galvuses had a monopoly on the stuff, but seems like they got a bit too big for their britches if ya catch my drift. I got in contact with a fellow gang called the Gunbreakers and they been cookin’ up some equally good shit. It’s been bringin’ in some real money for us.” Opening a drawer at his desk he pulls out a cigar, accompanied by a lighter. “However, them Galvuses ain’t too keen on us pushin’ in on their turf. Things been tense lately. But with you...” He trails off, giving you a once over again.

“If I can get you to catch Zenos yae Galvus’ attention with skills like yours, you just may be our in.” He sneers, taking a long drag from the cigar. “Not to say I don’t like havin’ ya around, but we could probably trade ya for some corners. I wouldn’t worry much about it. I know they treat folks good over there, with all the cash they got.”

You can’t hold back your snort fast enough, fumbling to recover. “Me? Good enough to get in with the Galvus line?” You do your best to come off as incredulous as possible, hoping he buys your slip up. The irony of the situation is not lost on you.

“Now’s not the time to act humble kid. My fightin’ days may be over, but even I can tell you wreck shop.” He takes another long drag, blowing out smoke into the stuffy office. “The Galvuses keep their crew tight. Don’t replace their ranks unless one of them ‘leaves’ if you catch my drift. Your opportunity comes this weekend, where we’ll be putting you in their little tournament. Climb to the top and snag the attention of the Galvus’ lines higher ups. If they like ya enough, maybe they’ll send one of their boys on their way out.”

“Just like that, huh?” You question, trying not to huff at Maetifyst’s easy grin.

“Just like that.”

#zenos #zenos yae galvus #FFXIV #ff14 #Final Fantasy XIV #THP

[xirelluniyt]

Career Paths

The roar of the crowd didn't register in Xiran’s mind. All that mattered was his opponent. The match felt like it had carried for an eternity as he tried to find a weakness. Xiran’s fists clenched. He charged forward at the man who donned a large metal shoulder guard in the shape of a bull. His fists swung precisely, but only pushed air as his opponent dodged. The Bull swung back with massive swords, one in each hand. Xiran side-stepped. He felt the wind and heard the blades slice through the air. Their exchanges were empty until he kicked the Bull in the stomach, launching him backward. One of The Bull’s swords scraped a horn during his launch. He saw a lock of his long black hair fall to the ground. 

“A close shave from The Bull of Ala Mhigo to The Demon of the East! This fight is nerve-racking!” the announcer yelled through the Coliseum. The crowd yelled louder as Xiran rubbed his thumb over the fresh carve on his horn. The Bull lived up to his reputation. Xiran charged again. The Bull poised his swords, but Xiran jumped high. The Bull didn’t have much reach above his head. Xiran took a slash to his thigh to bring his fist crashing down on the Bull’s helmet. The metal resonated from the impact. The Bull staggered back. Xiran chased and kicked upward, hitting the Bull in the chin and knocking off his helmet. Xiran stepped back as he landed, fists still ready. The Bull shook his head, regaining his senses. With a roar, The Bull rushed at Xiran. Xiran replied with a roar of his own, charging as well. The Gladiators met with a crash, dust flying around them from the impact. The crowd cheered wildly, unable to see the commotion in the cloud. As the dust settled, the men stood in the center of the ring. Xiran was covered in gashes as he held his hand around the Bull’s throat. The Bull had visible bruises on his face, his left eye swelling and his sword to Xiran’s neck. Their gazes met, and The Bull could see the ferocity in the glow of Xiran's eyes. “You fight with the heart of a griffin. Is Ala Mhigo in your blood, young one?” The Bull could scarcely utter as his lip swelled.

“My father...,” Xiran answered through heavy breaths.

The Bull chuckled hoarsely, slowly withdrawing his blade from the Au Ra’s neck. Xiran loosened his grip on the Bull. They took a step back from each other and bowed in respect. The crowd cried out, ecstatic and blown away. “It’s a draw! What a spectacle!” the announcer yelled over the crowd. “Raubahn Aldynn, The Bull of Ala Mhigo! Xiran Rayne, The Demon of the East! Men without equal!” Xiran laughed as he waved to the crowd. Raubahn patted the Au Ra’s back in approval. “Keep this up, and you could make something of yourself in here,” he suggested. 

Xiran smiled warmly at the idea. “Thank you, but this was to be my last match to make room for more steady work.”

Raubahn nodded. “Very well, young one, but don’t ever lose your heart. I’m sure your father would be proud to see the warrior you’ve become.”

“I can only hope,” Xiran replied solemnly. Raubahn smiled and raised the Au Ra’s arm, the two of them basking in the crowd.

Xiran stood in mild embarrassment, his body open and exposed save for his small clothes as the attendants saw to his cuts. Johan sighed, almost nostalgic. “What troubles you, old man?” Xiran asked sarcastically, trying to take his mind off of the hands rubbing salve on his wounds. “This place,” he answered sadly, dusting off his sleeveless robes. “So many victories and defeats felt in this dirt, it’s almost sad to leave it all.”

“After years of fighting, I’d thought you’d be happy to finally be able to stop,” Xiran replied quizzically.

“Fighting is all I’ve known, boy. From the Reach to the Coliseum, it’s kept us alive this long. To be brought to the point of being a bodyguard almost feels like failing.”

“Sir Reginald is paying us handsomely for it, though.”

“That pile of blubber wastes our skills guarding caravans and property.” Johan’s voice bore a hint of disgust.

“Gods only know where we’d be if he hadn’t picked us up in Fringes.” 

Johan sighed. “And you’ll keep bringing that up as long as it quiets me won’t you, Demon of the East?”

Xiran wasn’t fond of the moniker. “Damn right, you old fool.”

Johan growled. “Just meet me at the brothel at sunset. Do try to learn some respect along the way.” 

“Love you too, old man,” Xiran chuckled as Johan left the room. The attendants finished their work, but one stayed behind. Xiran blushed as he dressed, feeling the miqo’te girl’s eyes examining him. He buttoned his pants with his back turned to her as he spoke. “I-is there anything else you need?”

The girl chuckled at his question. “Just want to wish you luck. I’ll miss wrapping you up after a fight.” She gave his tail a quick tug as she walked away giggling. Xiran quickly finished dressing up, his Auri harness snug against his chest. He walked out of the room to find a crowd of spectators clapping and cheering, wishing him well as he walked into the streets of Ul’dah. 

The afternoon brought Xiran a well-deserved nap before starting the first guard shift. Sir Reginald had requested Xiran and Johan become bodyguards for his various endeavors in lieu of sponsorship in the Coliseum. He claimed it was more profitable for all of them. 

Xiran stood outside of the ornate gold and green door of the brothel, watching as the patrons walked out. After sunset, only special guests and “very important persons” were allowed inside. Johan stepped out from the brothel with a wrapped package. Xiran raised an eyebrow and Johan shot his curiosity down with a scoff. “Please, I’ve never had to pay for it, I wouldn’t start now,” Johan said sternly. Xiran shrugged. “Who am I to judge,” he asked with a smile. Johan mocked Xiran’s attitude as he threw the package into the Au Ra’s arms. “Eighteen summers old, and you think you know everything, don’t you?” 

“Well, certainly not everything,” he answered in curiosity as he caught the package. “What’s this?”

“Sir Reginald decided you can’t guard his most profitable venture without looking more presentable. Go inside, the Madame will show you to a room to get changed. And keep your hands to yourself.” 

Xiran wondered about the last part as he entered. He walked into a wide courtyard with a massive palm tree in the middle. Not a moment inside and he could see why Johan gave him his final instruction. The women inside were gorgeous, and they were all staring at him. Some of them looked with bewilderment, others with a familiar sort of curiosity. He could hear whispers as he looked around, walking towards the palm in the center of the courtyard. “Who is that...Those scales...Could he be related to...” 

“So you’re the new guard, I take it?” The sudden bark in the silence made Xiran jump in his shoes. He turned to see a Roegadyn woman, tall as he and just as muscular. He’d never seen one with so little clothing. She wore a white silk sash that barely covered her breasts and a yellow silk long skirt that he could almost see through. He remembered his purpose and spoke hurriedly “Um, yes, sorry! I was told to change...” 

She smiled as he spoke. “Gods, you must be a virgin. Mayhap I can convince the Master to let one of the girls make an honest man out of you. I’m Madame Sandra, follow me.” He spoke as they walked. “I’m not-”

“Save it, I’ve heard it all before. Whatever machismo you want to say to save your hide means nothing to me. You’re here to do a job and that’s that.” She stopped in front of a room and turned to him. “Hurry up, I need this room for a guest in twenty minutes. Chop chop, handsome.” He hurried into the room and quickly undressed. Upon tearing open the package he could hardly believe what he saw. He held up a black Eastern Lord’s togi. The fabric looked new but didn’t feel stiff as he put it on. He smoothed out the folds and decided to check his suspicions. He lifted the front sash. Finding the hidden pocket nearly drew him to tears. Xiran’s father had a habit of hiding little candies in the pocket to satiate his sweet tooth at gatherings. Damn it, old man... he thought, quickly putting on the rest of his clothes; black trousers with white in-laid fabric on the thighs and white archaeoskin boots. The final pieces were a pair of malleable gold chains that wrapped around his arms. The chain for the left arm sported a large flair piece. Xiran thought it looked like a wing, which went with the dragon design on the back of the togi. He fought back tears again as he thought of his father. One day, this togi will be your’s, and you’ll look as majestic as the dragon that flies on it...

Xiran gathered his effects and walked out of the room. The ladies that were still walking about stared at him again, this time in pleasant approval. “Mmm, are you here for me, handsome?” asked a blonde miqo’te as she walked with a midlander compatriot. “Why not both of us?” giggled the midlander. Xiran chuckled nervously as he walked back to the palm. He folded up his clothing, sensing someone else was staring at him. He could see the ladies on the first floor. There were a few on the second. Looking up to the third floor, he could make out a silhouette but was interrupted by the Madame again. “Now that’s much better! Even with the horns, you’re still able to turn heads for the right reasons and no one would suspect you’d kick them into the Seven Hells. I’ll take these...” She took the clothes and pointed him to the front door. “Go to your post, Johan has the list. After the last one comes in, no one else does; after he leaves no one else does. Simple, yeah?” Xiran nodded and she smiled again. “Oh, do lighten up. No need for such a handsome man to be sour. I’ll definitely have to ask the Master to let you have a girl.”

“Uh- I- It’s not really-” Xiran could barely utter a word in response. 

“Just teasing, love! Out you go!” She slapped his butt and walked off. Xiran took a breath to calm himself, looking back up at the third floor. The silhouette was gone. He walked out the door to see Johan standing with arm’s crossed. “Was this your idea?” he asked.

Johan turned and smiled slightly. “After the Fist fell, I had a message sent to an old friend of mine. I had asked if he could find anything left of your family’s belongings. Besides heaping piles of ash, he found the togi buried under rubble and half burnt.” Johan examined the togi, brushing off the Au Ra’s shoulders. “I asked Sir Reginald if he would be able to have it restored, as a gift for your retirement from the Coliseum.”

“I only fought for a year,” Xiran scoffed back.

“Perhaps, but thanks to your exemplary progress with Holyfist, and what I could manage to teach you in my old age, we’re bodyguards. It’s not the most exciting work, nor do I like the idea of working for that sack of wine, but you’re right. I’m not getting any younger.” Johan put on a hand on Xiran’s shoulder. “It’s probably not the future your parents may have wanted for you, but I think they cared more to make sure you had a life you built with your own hands. At least I could deliver that for them, and you.”

“Thank you, Johan,” Xiran said in a low tone. Johan gave Xiran’s shoulder a light punch. “Think nothing of it, you earned it. Now, here’s the list. I’m off to escort a caravan to The Black Shroud.” Johan turned and walked towards the Gate of Thal.

“Don’t work too hard!” Xiran yelled after Johan. The old monk turned around. “We’re Ala Mhigans, hard work is all we know!” he called back raising a fist. Xiran smiled, opening the list and reading the names on it. 

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#story time #ffxiv story #ff14 story #xiran #johan #raubahn

[autumnslance]

Prompt #17: Obeisant

Dearest Rashae,

I hope you won’t mind the pack of letters that you’re going to receive in bulk from a pixie. It almost seems easier to write to you than in my journal, even if I cannot send them so often as I might like. Perhaps it’s the need for connection to home, as far away from even Eorzea that I am.

Before I go much further: Yes, I have checked my journal for entries I don’t remember writing. She’s not saying anything. Yet.

I’m writing you from Mord Souq. As I told you before, it’s the largest “city” left in Amh Araeng. It’s perhaps only a little bigger than Vesper Bay, and almost as busy as that port.

I’ve joined up with another bounty hunter after another of the Cardinal Virtues. Granson lost his fiancee to this one a year ago. I thought, at first, his many scars were a result of his hunts--but the majority of them are self-inflicted, a way of dealing with his pain and visual reminder of his promise to hunt the one they call Dikaiosyne.

I knew him as Blanhaerz. His real name was Branden. He was a knight of Voeburt before becoming a Warrior of Light, before the Flood. Like the others, he sacrificed himself to save this realm. Now his remains have been twisted into this mockery.

Granson wants revenge; I want to put Ardbert’s brother to rest. He doesn’t deserve this fate. None of them do.

At least, that’s what I believe. It’s one of the few beliefs I have left.

We tracked a piece of antique jewelry to Amh Araeng. Sin eaters are creatures of instinct, feral and unthinking. The Cardinal Virtues I have hunted so far have been different, each one driven by instinct, yes, but the instinct was influenced by a strong memory of their past. In Renda-Rae’s case, the hunt for the beast that took her friends. For Nyelbert, rescuing Taynor from the Rift. For Branden, it has something to do with these pieces of antique jewelry; I am unsure yet as to their significance, and my brief meeting with Dikaiosyne earlier did not enlighten me.

Usually my glimpses of the former Warriors of Light trigger the Echo, sending me reeling as they vanish once again, leaving my companions and I to start over in our hunt. Today, though, I was seeking a scavenger who had found a companion to the piece Dikaiosyne had stolen last year, when he attacked Granson’s village.

I was too late, by ilms and seconds.

I heard the man’s screaming, and crested the dune just in time to see the horrific transformation once more. I shall never be used to it, and hope our actions here soon abolish its like occurring ever again. Dikaiosyne spared not a glance at his newborn, nor for me. He simply picked up the fallen choker and left in a haze, as they are wont to do.

The new eater still had just enough of its original mind left to beg me for the only aid I could give. So I did what had to be done.

After, as it broke into component aether, I tried to pray for the lost man’s soul...and found I could not.

I have spent so much time now fighting others’ gods. Learning the nature of primals, of the summoning Louisoix attempted at Carteneau. And now, so far from home, I have learned a new truth, of the Crystal and Her counterpart, of the history of the world and the heart of our beliefs--of my very existence and purpose.

And I realized, standing there in the shifting, sandy Hills of Amber, that I cannot pray. Not anymore. Not to gods I do not, cannot, believe in.

Part of me wanted to laugh, but I was afraid I would never stop.

I was born to a proper Halonic village, under the sign of the Fury, even, in the midst of winter. But Halone is an abstract concept, the many volumes housed in Ishgard’s libraries academically and aesthetically valuable, but they give my soul no comfort.

My Sharlayan colleagues regard Thaliak highly, looking for guidance and wisdom, but I have only ever seen their own intelligences at work, and my only connection to the Scholar is the marker in Mor Dhona where we paid respects to one of our fallen.

Thal can keep the gilded halls, if they even exist. Rhalgr’s power is naught more than that which naturally arcs across the sky, and honestly, how different is reverence for him better than Ramuh, who also controls such destructive force, according to the sylphs? Not that I’ll say such to Lyse or Raubahn whenever we next meet, though as a former Scion she should know better.

We make our own gods, out of desperation. With the right magic, they answer--but the cost is too great, after all I’ve seen and experienced.

Were I still in Ishgard, I might well be branded a heretic for such opinions. But I cannot give obeisance to figments of our own imaginations. I cannot ask a fiction to gather a soul whose life was ended so violently, to grant succor to the widow left behind.

I can imagine your reply; that I shouldn’t be too hasty, nor trust in the words of a Paragon, no matter how much evidence seemed to support his version of the truth. And I know that. I know the truth is likely somewhere in between what Hydaelyn’s Word told us, and what Emet-Selch said.

It does nothing for the emptiness I felt there in the sand, staring at the spot the eater had been. The proper thing to do would have been to pray. But I just couldn’t.

I felt...lost.

Maybe I am. Just another sinner, as they say here in Norvrandt. Fighting the sinless, the ones who’ve supposedly been “forgiven” by the Light.

[There is a gap in the lines, and the ink of the next is of a slightly different hue]

That got rather heavy, didn’t it? I had to put up my writing once Granson got back from dealing with the scavenger’s widow. I considered removing the last page on re-reading what I wrote but on reflection I shall keep it. Even if I never send this missive, and instead leave it tucked between pages of my journal, putting the feeling to words helped loosen some of the tightness in my chest and ache in my heart.

We’re off to Il Mheg, on our hunt for Dikaiosyne. Granson’s pieced enough of the story together that we hope to learn more there, in the ruins of the nation Branden hailed from. Hopefully the fae won’t give us too difficult a time--luckily, I have a bit of an in with their King, at least.

I will write to you again soon, and maybe even send some of what I’ve written, speaking of my friend the King of the fae. I shall have to be quite flowery in my request; they enjoy that.

Please don’t worry about me; I’m fine, really, if just realizing what all I’ve lost in the process of becoming a Warrior of Light and Darkness. Perhaps it was inevitable.

Even so, I have hope for the future my friends and I have wrought for this realm, and our own. For the people here who struggle and survive in the face of the odds, and continue living their lives on their own terms despite teetering so close to the brink.

Perhaps, if I am left to believe in anything, I believe in them.

Give my love to the rest. I’ll send a proper letter to be read for the family soon, with stories and pictures for the children.

All my love,

Aeryn

#FFXIVWrite2019 #Final Fantasy XIV #Role Quests #Aeryn Striker #Lyn Writing #Faith #epistolary #this got longer than intended