#But Thancred's response had me dying

[cerezawrites]

FFXIV Write 2022 Day 8 - Tepid

Note: Set shortly after the final duties of Endwalker

Get over here, my sapling.  Those two girls need your help, and if you don’t get here soon I’m going to be so cross!  

The shrill echo of the dream from the night before had been more than enough to convince Cereza to travel to the First.  Feo Ul was probably being a BIT over dramatic to spur her to come, but their message would have been enough just by saying “those two girls.”  

The path through the aether to the Crystarium was always a bit different than traveling within a world - to be expected, of course, but still a bit jarring all the same.  Cereza arrived, and called out right away - not wanting to risk her beautiful branch’s ire by not doing so.  

“Ah, about time you showed up!  Those two girls are just… wait.  What in the Fuath’s pool happened to you?!?”  

Cereza stood, bandaged in a few places.  She was pretty sure her soul probably looked a bit roughed up.  “Uhhh…. Flew to the end of the universe.  Destroyed the thing that was trying to destroy everything else.  And got into a fist fight with a guy who refused to stay dead until I punched him with every ounce of spirit I had left in me… to the point of almost dying myself.  And I did try to call you, but I’m pretty sure that call didn’t exactly make it back here.”  

The crimson pixie looked at her, silent for once.  “Well why the hell did you do all that for?” she finally exclaimed.  “Actually… no… never mind, we need to focus on the task at hand.  Neither of those girls is doing particularly well themselves (not quite as bad you, mind, and we WILL talk later).  Tyr Beq noticed it first in their dreams and then I took a look and… oh, let’s just go see them”  

Cereza sighed, but followed after Feo Ul.  She WAS concerned.. But thought she had a theory as to what was going on.  

The two traveled to the Pendants, and the Elez- no, elven, Cereza corrected in her head - clerk smiled.  “Ah, Cereza!  We’ve kept your quarters for you just as they were!”  

Cereza smiled, but shook her head. “Thank you, but I was actually hoping to see someone else.  Ryne and Gaia… are they in?”  

The clerk nodded.  “Yes, actually… they’ve been ordering food in for the last few days.  Ryne came down to pick it up for a while, but then she started feeling unwell and stayed in her own room.”  

“Hmm… did you notice what was wrong?” she asked, curious for any clues.  

The clerk shook his head, however.  “I wish I could say I had.  Both seemed… drained.  Everything was a half hearted effort, even ordering food.  They haven’t even been to see each other since Ryne got sick…”  

Cereza nodded.  Well, the timeline bore out.  “Ok… Hmmm… can you send a message and let them know I’m here?”  

The clerk nodded and sent a missive via a pair of small familiars.  Gaia’s returned without a response, but Ryne sent a simple “Please come up” on her flowery stationary.  Feo Ul nodded. “I’ll just stay down here,” they said, though only Cereza could hear their voice.  “I’m curious about their well-being but you probably should have some privacy to talk with them.”

Cereza smiled, and nodded her thanks.  After getting directions, Cereza went up to Ryne’s room, and knocked.  After some shuffling, inside, she opened the door, and Cereza could tell she was not feeling herself.  She tried to smile and remain chipper, but it came through somewhat sleepily.  “Oh… Good.  I trust… everything worked out?”  She moved from the door, letting Cereza in.  

“Mostly.  Thancred is alive… we didn’t lose any of our friends, at least.”  Cereza stepped in and looked aroun.  The garbage from her meals was piled and bagged in a corner, but hadn’t been taken out.  Cereza also could see there were several clothes that had just missed the hamper, despite there clearly being a day or two in there placed gently.  She looked at Ryne again, and considered her appearance - rather than dressed in a crisp outfit as usual, she was wearing something wrinkled.. And inside out.  “So.  A little pixie tells me you’re not feeling well. Neither of you.  But Gaia went down first?”  

Ryne nodded.  “Yeah… I don’t know.  It’s like… something fell out from under me. What Gaia told me, she sounded the same.  We’re just… both… missing something.”  She shook her head.  “Is this a symptom of the Final Days on the Source… is it bleeding over, do you think?”  

Cereza shook her head.  “I don’t think so… otherwise EVERYONE would be unwell.  The fact that it’s hitting the two Oracles first, though… there may be something to that.”  She thought back - back to Elpis, to the time when Venat guided her into an Echo vision… and further still to a time she did the same with Cid.  

She closed her eyes, and focused her mind to Ryne, trying to extend contact.  As she did, Cereza saw herself in a familiar scene, but from a different perspective.  She floated in a bluish void, and saw Ryne standing on a circle - a seal of power, likely that of the Oracle’s blessing as granted by Hydaelyn.  But it was cracked… aether was leaking from it.  There was a component missing - and Cereza knew what had gone wrong.  

-

“So… you’re saying that when they died… Zodiark and Hydaelyn’s shards likely disintegrated as well.  And with them gone, our powers were damaged, somehow?”  Ryne asked as she nibbled on a coffee cookie.  

Bec Lug nodded at her, looking up from their notes.  “Yes… that does seem the case.  Gaia was none too pleased to see me, but she let me examine her.  And it looks like that is the case.  You’re able to take in enough aether to survive, but with them gone, some part of your nature was damaged, and that’s drained you.”  

Ryne nodded.  “I’m guessing the pervasive light in this world is more nourishing to me, plus Hydaelyn fell second… so that’s why I’m a little more with it.  But is there a way to fix it?”  

“I have some theories… but I’m waiting on our friend to get back to test the best one.  She thinks that if we could somehow reattune you to the appropriate energies, you might be able to patch the hole, as it were.  I’m not sure how they plan to make that happen though…”  

“Why, with magic, of course!”  Cereza returned to them, Feo Ul in tow.  “Apologies.  I had to consult with a few tutors on the Source and get something.  But based on our discussions, I think we have a solution.”  She opened her hand and passed a small green stone with a triangular shape to Ryne.  

Ryne held the stone, rounded on the sides but curved inwards on the top and bottom.  “Oh… a soul crystal.  I’ve seen a few of these.  You’ve got a lot too, I think.  What is this one tied to though?”  

“A special art.  Summoning.  You see, the problem is that both of you had some power derived from a Primal.  On the Source in ancient times - the times that made that very tower” she said, indicating the spire of crystal above them, “there wasn’t a reliable way at first to deal with Primals, or Eikons as they were known back then.  But, at one point, someone decided to turn the power of the Eikons against them.  At first, they tamed the power into forms called ‘egi’ or ‘essences.’”  As she said this, a small figure of yellow stone appeared over her shoulder.  “This is Titan-egi - the ‘essence’ of the Earth Primal Titan.”  

“He certainly looks tamer than what we summoned in the Empty,” Ryne said, a bit taken aback by the form.  “But… wait.. Are you suggesting we try and summon egi’s for Hydaelyn and Zodiark?”  

Cereza shook her head.  “No… there are limits to how much you can invest into one.  I don’t think that will work super well - though from our battles, you might be able to tame some of the other elements as Egis.  You were there when they fell, after all.  But see, there was another method to draw the Eikon’s power into oneself without getting tempered by it.  They used this method to enhance their spells, by attuning to residual traces of aether.”  

Bec Lug nodded. “Ah, I see the idea… if they can tap into that power, they could use it to patch up their gifts - attaching a similar energy to them and using that to repair the damage.  That does leave the problem of where to find their essences though…”  

Cereza shook her head.  “I already have an idea.  For Ryne and Hydaelyn, we should be able to use Nabaath Araeng.”  

Ryne’s eyes widened in realization.  “Where we saw Minfilia - and where she held back the flood.  Of course - she was using the same power then.  But… what of Gaia… I’d rather not risk her using the aether back near Eden… it almost took her from us.”  

“You’re right,” Cereza agreed.  “But there’s another place that Zodiark’s magic could be found.  I had to make a detour on my way back here to check on it, but I’m sure it will work - the amount of aether poured into its construction is attuned to Zodiark’s wavelength perfectly.”  

Ryne considered the question, and looked up when she had an answer.  “How deep into Amaurot will we need to go then?”

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2022 #spoilers #ew spoilers

[leejafythe]

Dancer and the Lightwardens: Chapter 10

La Hee - Originally posted here

Leeja was rudely awoken in the middle of the night as someone knocked on the door. She grumbled and dragged herself out of bed as she went over to the door. She opened it to Thancred standing there, looking half asleep but worried. He hugged her tightly, mumbling to himself. She hugged him back, worried. It took her sleepy ears a moment to realise what he was saying. “Safe. Your safe. Your safe” he mumbled repeatedly. He had a nightmare and she squeezed him gently. “Come inside, sweetheart. Let me shut the door” he reluctantly let go and entered, letting her shut the door behind him. “Did you have a nightmare?” He nodded and sat down at the table as he began to wake up properly. “Can you tell me what happened?” “You died” he mumbled sadly. Leeja stood in front of him and took his face in her hands, making him look at her. “I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere, I’m still alive” she smiled tiredly and chuckled as he pressed his face into her stomach, curling his arms around her and held her close. “Thancred?” “Don’t go” he mumbled. “Please?” “Come on, sweetpea. Let’s go to bed. You can stay here, I won’t send you away” she spoke softly and ran her fingers through his hair. He nodded and stood slowly. She dragged him toward the bedroom and let him climb into bed first and she climbed in after. He immediately pulled her close as he began to fall asleep once more. Leeja chuckled tiredly and fell asleep as well.

The sun rose and woke the pair of them slowly. Leeja hummed softly as she felt the feeling of lips on the back of her neck, making her purr softly. “Good morning, darling” Thancred murmured behind her.  “Mornin’” she replied, She hummed, content about being in that moment. He slipped his hand under her vest, resting his hand on her hip, stroking her skin softly. Leeja placed her tail over his legs. “Did you sleep better?” He hummed a response. “I don’t remember making my way here” he admitted. She rolled over to look at him. “You came over, knocking frantically on my door. When I opened it, you attached yourself to me” she spoke softly, brushing his hair back.  “I’m sorry, you should have told me to go home” he murmured. “I couldn’t bear to do that. Not with the state you were in” she draped her tail over him. “You were close to tears and it would have been unfair” she stroked his cheek. “I might have been annoyed in Il Mheg, but you told me you had a nightmare of me dying and after that I couldn’t deny you” she said. He sighed and rested his forehead against her, closing his eyes as he held her close. “I deeply and utterly apologise for my behaviour. I don’t know what came over me but I understand why you were mad at me,” “Have you got it all out your system now?” She murmured/ “I believe so, yes.” He sighed softly and rested his hand on her lower back. She chuckled softly and gave him a soft kiss.

Leeja hummed softly in thought. “Gil for your thoughts?”  “Hm? Oh, I was just thinking. As much as I would love to spend all day in bed with you like this, we have to make our report to the Exarch” she pouted a little and he chuckled.  “It’s still early, the sun has barely risen and I’m assuming it’s roughly seven bells in the morning? Meaning we have plenty of time before we’re needed anywhere” he smirked at her. “Are you thinking, what I am, dearest Thancred?” He gasped dramatically. “I will have you know, my lady, that I am a gentleman!” He grinned as she giggled. “Oh! I appear to have the wrong person then, since I’m not really in the mood for a gentleman, shall we say” she purred as she squeezed his arse with a smirk. She yelped in surprise as he pinned her below him before giggling.  “In that case then, I can happily provide such a service” he dropped the pitch in his voice, growling ever so slightly. It made her swallow thickly as her breath suddenly became shaky. “Please…” She whispered. With a lascivious smirk, he claimed her mouth with his own.

Around midday, Leeja and Thancred finally dragged themselves out of bed. They had a quick breakfast, showered and got dressed, and Leeja groaned softly at the headache that built up out of nowhere. “Are you alright?”  “Ngh… Just a headache behind my eyes” she grunted. “Might become a migraine… Should keep it in mind” she sighed and dug a small, pink vial from her bag and drank it down quickly. “That’ll hold of the worst of the effects.” “Are you sure?” Thancred watched her finish getting dressed. She walked over to him and just curled her arms around his middle as he held her close. “Just take it easy. If it gets worse, say so, alright?” She nodded.

They finally met up with the others near the Crystal Tower. “Nice of you both to finally join us” Alisaie teased.  “I needed some rest, Alisaie. I beat up a fae king and got beaten up in return” Leeja crossed her arms and looked at her. “Fair point” she shrugged and looked at Thancred. “What’s your excuse? Minfilia was here before you and said you weren’t in bed when she woke up.” “I went to check on Leeja to make sure she was okay. Am I not allowed to be concerned?” Alisaie held her hands up in defence. “Fine, fine. Let’s jst go and report to the Exarch, shall we?” She sighed in defeat, making Leeja giggle quietly. “You certainly took your time. I had half resolved to complete the task myself.” A voice behind the group said, making them all stop.  “And you are?” Alisaie looked at the man. Urianger filled them in. “Were one to study the annals of Garlean history, one would find yonder visage on many a page. Though by rights its youth should long since have faded” he said. That alone made Leeja concerned.  “Well, well, we have a historian in our midst. That spares me a lengthy explanation” he smiled at them. “I am Solus zos Galvus, founding father of the Garlean Empire. And, under various guises, the architect of myriad other imperially inclined nations. As for my true identity… I am Emet-Selch. Ascian.” Leeja’s eyes widened. “The last of the Unsundered. Lahabrea, Elidibus and the unknown Emet-Selch” Leeja’s eyes narrowed.  “Equal in rank to Lahabrea. And you came all this way just to introduce yourself to us?” Thancred hissed. Leeja clenched her jaw tightly and put a hand on Thancred’s arm. 

Emet took the time to complain about the fact that the Light had been banished and, in true fashion, Leeja pointed out very sarcastically how little she cared for their plans. “Well, I should begin by thanking you for confirming Urianger's theories on the inner workings of the Calamity. He will be most pleased. As for what happens next, might I suggest you admit defeat and walk away?” Thancred warned.

“Happy to let me go, are you? Because the murderous glint in your eye suggests otherwise. Indeed, it is enough to make me think better of confronting you alone.” Emet responded, taunting him. “Look, it did cross my mind to simply side with Vauthry and kill you all. But that's no different from what Lahabrea did. And we all know how well that ended for him.” Leeja’s hands balled into fists as she fought the urge to not punch the man. She could sense Thancred doing the same.  “If you know, then why did you think it a good idea to come and face us?” Leeja finally looked up at him. When he told them why he was there, Leeja couldn’t help but laugh. It came out of nowhere and she struggled to stop. When he had said his peace, he left, leaving them alone.

Leeja’s laughter still hadn’t stopped and by that point, tears poured from her eyes and it concerned them all. “Sit down, Leeja” Thancred helped her to the ground as she looked at him, slightly panicking. “Look at me, keep you eyes on me.” Minfilia watched quietly. “Is she okay?” “Nay, ‘twould appear our friend is having a panic attack” Urianger spoke softly.  “Alisaie, can you rub her back slowly for me?” The red mage nodded and knelt behind Leeja, pressing down gently as she rubbed her back in circles. “Hey, focus on me. Close your eyes for me.” Leeja’s laughing had turned into soft sobs as she closed her eyes. “Good girl. Focus on my voice, feel my hand in yours and focus on your breathing. Breathe in slowly, hold for five and then exhale for five” he repeated it a few times. Leeja’s sobs came to a halt and she managed to calm down. Thancred wiped her tears away and smiled when she opened her eyes again. “Are you with us?” She nodded as her ears folded back. “I’m sorry, it just… Happened. I don’t know what came over me” she admitted. Alisaie hugged her gently from behind. “Don’t worry, you’re fine and that’s the important thing” she said, giving her a squeeze.  “Let’s go and see the Exarch, shall we? Now I’m done having a panic attack.” Leeja stood slowly. “Go on ahead, we’ll be there soon” Thancred said, urging them on. When they were alone, Thancred squeezed Leeja’s hands gently. “Are you alright? Be honest with me.” “...No” she admitted quietly. “Lahabrea triggers crippling anxiety that I thought I was better from” she sighed. “You’re not the only one” he admitted quietly. “Contrary to what people might believe, I still struggle on some days.” It surprised Leeja. It shouldn’t have done so, but it did, mostly because he had never spoken about it. “I have days where I hate seeing my own reflection because I worry what will be looking back at me. I have nightmares, of course, much like last night. While I’ve been here, I’ve woken up some days after a nightmare and had to speak with the Exarch to check in on you out of paranoia.” Leeja hugged him tightly. “I’m sorry, I had no idea. Is that what happened last night?” He nodded. “I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have had to go through that alone.” “It’s alright” he hugged her back. “You’re here now, so I know you’re okay” he said softly as he held her close.  “Aye, you’ll have to suffer my presence basically every bell of the day” she chuckled and squeezed his hand. “We should get going” she said quietly. He nodded and they made their way into the Tower.

Much to their surprise, however, Emet-Selch had made an appearance. Thancred instinctively moved Leeja behind him. “Ah, there you are. You're just in time to welcome our guest…” Alisaie said bitterly. “So I see…” Leeja said quietly. She didn’t feel a panic attack rising this time. She was just frustrated by his sudden presence. He opened up more about what he wanted, how he wanted to be allies and for them to learn the truth. Yet when none of them answered, he gave up and left them all.  “What was that all about?” Alisaie just looked at the empty space where the Ascian had vanished.  “A vain attempt to make us doubt our chosen course, most like. As if we'd believe a word that passed his lips.” Thancred started. Then he turned to Leeja. “Unless you think there is some truth in what he says?” Leeja thought for a moment, feeling everyones eyes on her.  “A kernel, perhaps” she fiddled with her bracelet. “If he simply meant to lead us astray, he could have done so without revealing himself. At least, not in the manner he did.” Alphinaud continued. “It goes without saying that an alliance with the Ascians is out of the question. But since we have no way of knowing where they might be hiding, it seems only logical to press on with our mission─even if our enemy seems content for it to succeed.” “Then let us discuss the sin eaters.” The Exarch said, and soon, they were back on the topic of banishing the Light.

It was decided that the Scions split off. Alphinaud and Alisaie were going back to Kholusia and Amh Araeng to find more about the Lightwardens, while the rest of them were to go to Rak’tika to find Y’shtola. “Is Y'shtola the conjurer you and Urianger used to talk about?” Minfilia looked up at Thancred. “That's right. Though we haven't spoken much since she left for the forest.” He nodded a little. “I fear I may be to blame for that. I had every intention of relaying the news of your arrival, but she is...disinclined to speak with me” the Exarch told him. That had Leeja’s interest, she’d have to ask Y’shtola when she sees her. The Exarch looked at Urianger “you have visited her, have you not? Might I trouble you to...?” The elezen nodded. “Twould be no trouble.”  “My thanks. While you are all out in the field, I shall be here attending to business. I had somewhat fancifully contemplated joining the search myself, but other matters demand my attention.” He held up an envelope with Eulmore’s sigil on the back. “Eulmore? Vauthry, by any chance?” Leeja raised an eyebrow. “Indeed. He invites me to join him in Eulmore to discuss the recent conflict at Lydha Lran.” “That’s surely a trap, is it not?” Alisaie looked at him. “I should be surprised if it were not. Nevertheless, I must seize this opportunity to speak with him, even if only a few words are exchanged. Though my power will be much diminished so far from the tower, it is a risk I am willing to take. Master Alphinaud ─ might I impose upon you to accompany me to Eulmore, prior to beginning your reconnaissance?” He looked at Alphinaud who nodded. “Of course.”

They all left the tower to go their separate ways. Leeja, Thancred, Minfilia and Urianger all made a quick stop to find a relic in the underground and abandoned church. As they looked around the large room that was didmly lit by blue candles. They could barely see in front of them, but thanks to the Keeper side of her family, her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she could see clearly. “Much better” she murmured to herself.  “Can anyone tell me what this infernal tablet even looks like?” Thancred asked. Leeja hummed. “Good point, is it stone? Parchment? A tome, maybe?” Leeja looked about, looking in all the nooks and crannies. “Were the tablet a fragment of holy scripture, 'twould most assuredly rest here on this altar. Yet this would, I presume, also have been where the Blessed placed the Font of Seeing used in the practice of their faith... Wither, then, would they have set the tablet?” Urianger looked about. Leeja walked and found a loose piece of stone, covered in scratchings that she couldn’t understand. “I found it. It was inside the alter, that’s why we couldn’t see it” she held it up for them to see.  “How were you able to see it in the dark? And inside the altar of all places..” Minfilia asked. “In the Source, people of my race, miqo’tes, all descend from two different tribes. Seeker of the Sun – who are all up and about during the day and then there’s Keeper of the Moon – most of whom live in the forest and are built for night time and hunting. My parents are bok a Seeker and a Keeper, so my eye sight is better in the dark as a result of my genetics” she explained.  “Oh! That sounds interesting” Minfilia was excited to learn more about her. So as they left to go to the forest, Leeja continued to teach her the history of the miqo’te race. Thancred smiled as he watched and listened to the pair of them.  “Thy mood seems much improved today” Urianger spoke quietly. “Hast thou had the chance to speak with thy lady love?” Thancred’s cheek turned light pink. “Not… Fully, no. I woke up in her apartment this morning with no memory of getting there last night. Claims I came to her door after a nightmare” Thancred hummed softly. “We can speak properly after restoring the night sky. For now, leave it alone” he warned. Urianger didn’t push it further, though he did find it amusing that in his half asleep state, he managed to make it to Leeja’s apartment unscathed. 

When they reached the gate, they presented the letter from the Exarch and were let through with no problem. As they walked down the path, the cool air slowly became humid and warm, reminding Leeja of home. Minfilia had been full of questions as they walked and Leeja - despite Thancred’s warnings to the girl - was more than happy to answer them. She wanted to know all about her life. Her home, where she grew up, how she learned so many different battle types, her life as the Warrior of Light and most of all, Leeja and Thancred’s relationship. Leeja answered everything as best she could, only struggling a little with some parts. “Okay, so is there anything we need to know? Customs and such? I’d really hate to offend a group of people I’ve only just met” Leeja asked. Thancred just chuckled to himself while Minfilia canted her head at him. “Ah, I should explain. I try to pride myself in knowing the ways of groups of people I need for the first time because I hate offending people” Leeja explained. Urianger explained about the Light, the naming ways and the religion. Sure, Y’shtola would explain but she’d rather know first.

They arrived in the swamps of Citia, where in the distance a large burned down set of ruins sat, untouched and unused. The trees barely protected them from the Light’s touch as it glared through down onto the ground. “We have arrived. Vast though these woods may be, they are, by and large, uninhabitable. Not so the swamps of Citia, however, whose sparse foliage permitted man a foothold” Urianger explained. As Leeja opened her mouth to ask a question, a familiar - more like unwanted - voice spoke first. "No lands must remain beyond our grasp. Go forth. Conquer. Rule.“ Forgive me. A sudden pang of nostalgia for those halcyon days. Exploring virgin territories, subjugating primitive peoples. All for the glory of Garlemald!” Leeja glowered at the man, ready with her sarcastic response. Until Urianger put a hand on her shoulder and shook his head.  “If you've brought your ivory standard, I'll be happy to tell you where to stick it.” Leeja giggled quietly.  “Can we not simply take a moment to enjoy the view together? Or would you rather I spied on you from the shadows? Much more of this, and I may very well begin to regret my show of good faith.” He sighed dramatically, and if Leeja rolled her eyes any harder they would have rolled out of her skull. When he refused to help them fight because of the amount of Light, she silently admitted it was a good enough excuse. “Can we just, go and find Y’shtola?” Leeja sighed. Urianger, Minfilia and Emet headed off toward the ruins, leaving Leeja and Thancred alone. “If he never opened his mouth again, it would be too soon.” He said bitterly. “I know, he has a very punchable face and I am very tempted to do so, but for now we have to focus on our job here” she squeezed his hand gently and they jogged on to catch up.

When they looked about the ruins, there was no sign of any reconstruction. Yet Leeja’s ears flicked as she heard the sounds of footsteps making their way toward them. “We’re about to make friends.” They raised their hands as they were surrounded, weapons pointed at them as they were confused for sin eaters.  “I had hoped that by accompanying you, we might come to understand one another, but all I have come to understand is that you have a knack for inflaming the natives. You've committed the cardinal sin of boring me. And so I retire to the shade. Good luck.” Emet disappeared in a portal of purple and black, confusing some of those surrounding them.  “I think I preferred Lahabrea” Thancred muttered. Leeja nodded a little. “Runar, report?” “Master Matoya!” Leeja’s ears perked up as she saw Y’shtola. “We apprehended them as you ordered, but...are you certain these are sin eaters?” Leeja and Urianger frowned at each other. “'Tis passing queer that Y'shtola should mistake us for the enemy, is it not?” “Aye, that concerns me. Maybe it’s best you talk for us?” He nodded briefly. “Mayhap it hath been too long since last she beheld the radiance of thine aether… Master Matoya. Hath time truly made strangers of us?” He called. Y’shtola recognised their aether, just not Leeja’s and it worried her.  “First explain this other presence in your company. The one I know not. There is but one manner of creature in this world whose aether is suffused with such an abundance of light.” Leeja’s eyes widened. So she wasn’t negating the effects? Then what was happening to the aether? To her aether? Was it being warped?  “Mine apologies, Master Matoya, but thou art mistaken. Before thee standeth our dearest comrade. The truest hero among us. Though she is but recently arrived here in the First, not one but two Lightwardens have already perished by her most puissant hand.” Y’shtola’s eyes widened upon her learning of the mistake she had made. Leeja would have to enquire later about the light situation. Y’shtola bade them to lower their weapons and she agreed to take them to Slitherbough. She could feel her silvery white eyes boring into her back as they followed everyone and it made her feel uncomfortable, yet she’d have to wait. She was quiet as she felt Thancred link his pinky finger with her own, a simple act of checking she was okay without too much PDA on their part. She gave him a small smile and they kept their fingers together.

As they entered the small village, they noticed a garden where they were growing food, caves turned into living quarters and small halls, an outdoor area to eat, plenty of room for the children to run around and play together. They were greeted by members of the community as they covered their eyes and bowed respectfully. Leeja bowed her head in kind before Y’shtola directed them toward her quarters. Leeja sank down into a chair by the table, letting out a content sigh now the pain could ease in her legs as Y’shtola told them about the Night’s Blessed and Slitherbough in general. Leeja listened but her mind could not focus properly after what had been said about aether. Y’shtola had never confused her before, but now? What was truly happening to her? “...narrow the search.” Y’shtola’s voice dragged her from her thoughts.  “Well, go on then?” Thancred crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. She told them about the Ronkan empire and Leeja looked up. “Sounds like the Allagans, just a lot less technical” she said idly. Y’shtola continued, talking about the tablet and such.

Minfilia put her hand on Leeja’s shoulder gently. “A-Are you alright? You look pale” she spoke quietly, but it got the three archon’s attention. “I’m fine, I woke up with a migraine earlier and it’s just nagging at me a little” Leeja said with a small smile. “It’s still bothering you?” Thancred asked. She gave a little smile. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me” she tried to brush away the worry. Y’shtola cast a spell to help alleviate the pain from the migraine and Leeja let out a content sigh. “Thank you, Y’shtola” she spoke softly. “I apologise for derailing the conversation. Please, continue.” She nodded and looked at Urianger. “If there is aught I can do to assist thee in unraveling their secrets, thou need'st only ask.” He offered.  “Thank you, Urianger. I may well take you up on that offer. While we set to work, might I suggest you take a tour of the city? Should you be in any doubt as to the importance of your role as the “Warrior of Darkness,” the people here will surely cure you of it.” She smiled at Leeja who’s ears flicked in response.  “Sounds like an idea. If there’s anything we can do to help then we absolutely shall. Right, Minfilia?” She looked up at her. “You’ll let me help?” She asked, smiling. Leeja nodded and chuckled.  “I’d absolutely love your help.” Thancred looked at Y’shtola. “I must say, Y'shtola...while most of us have struggled to come to terms with our altered circumstances, you seem to have adapted rather well.” Thancred observed.  “Lest you forget, Master Matoya and I dedicated our lives to uncovering the truth which hides at the heart of our world. Though separate, the fate of this reflection is nevertheless bound to that of our home. That I would be daunted by such an invaluable opportunity is absurd.” Leeja couldn’t help but agree with that point. “But what of you, Thancred? Could it be that you are still struggling to “come to terms” with the nature of your young companion?” Silence before Thancred frowned. “My “struggles” are none of your concern. Quite why you would speak thus ─ and in this company ─ I do not know. Perhaps you left more of yourself back in the Source than I assumed. If you'll excuse me.” He walked out of the room and Leeja shook her head. “That was uncalled for, Y’shtola, and you know it” Leeja scolded. “He understands that I'm not the same. That I'm not her.” Minfilia followed up.  “Understands, perhaps, but does not accept. The question being whether he ever will. And whether you will, more importantly. As difficult as your circumstances may be, they are yours, not his. 'Tis you and you alone who bears ultimate responsibility for your life. But you need not make any hard choices now. Why not go and get some fresh air ─ clear your head?” The sorceress said. Leeja stood and left the room with Minfilia.

Leeja wouldn’t lie and sat that Y’shtola’s comments toward Thancred didn’t sting. And the fact it upset Minfilia made her angry. “Are you alright, Minfilia?” She asked, looking at the very quiet Oracle.  “O-Oh… I’m okay…” Minfilia lied. Leeja knew and gave her a reassuring hug. “You’ve done naught wrong. Y’shtola said it to get under Thancred’s skin” Leeja tried to help cheer her up. “Now, shall we go nd see if Runar has any tasks we can help with? Take both of our minds off the subject?” Minfilia nodded and Leeja smiled warmly.

They found Runar in a cave with large pots of water. “Welcome, friend. Welcome! My apologies for our less-than-hospitable greeting earlier. Tell me, what is your name? From where do you hail?” He asked happily. “I’m Leeja, this is Minfilia” she smiled warmly. “We come from the Crystarium.” “The Crystarium! And this tablet you've brought may help us find the Lightwarden here in Rak'tika?” Leeja nodded “That is our hope. While Y’sh– Master Matoya, sorry, works on deciphering it with Urianger, Minfilia and I would like help around the village in anyway we can while learning more about you all?” “Of course, of course. Anything for the guests of our dear Master Matoya.” As he spoke about Y’shtola, his expression was elated. Leeja understood the feeling, there were days she had that expression as well.  “Thank you. She means a great deal to the Night's Blessed, doesn't she?” Minfilia asked with a smile. Runar nodded and explained the importance of what Y;shtola had done for the Night’s Blessed. “Now, you should know there are certain customs we ask guests to adhere to so long as they reside within Slitherbough.” He began. Leeja and Minfilia both nodded, listening as he ran through them all. He explained the reason for the water in the chamber. “Would you two kneel for just a moment, that I might rid you of the Light's impurity?” They knelt down as he said a silent prayer before dropping the water on each of their heads. It was cool to the touch, no doubt being in the dark kept the water chilled. 

“Allin tuta. In the language of Ronka, it is one of several ways one might say “good evening.” The world is not as safe as it once was, and this greeting lets us quickly discern friend from foe.” He explained. They both said the words once more to make sure they were saying it correctly and then they left the chamber and went around greeting various people around the village. The pair of them were quiet as they went around the village. When they had met everyone they could, Runar gave them both a short list of tasks they could assist with. When they had finished each task, they spoke to each person and learned more and more about the history of the Night’s Blessed and it made them wholly aware of everything. 

“Runar!” A panicked voice came from behind Leeja and Minfilia as they returned to the hrothgar. “In the woods… Sin eaters. I fear they may have the touch.” the man panted. Leeja and Minfilia looked at each other.  “Where!?” the three of them asked.  “In the grove to the southwest. For a mercy, they've yet to wander any closer to Slitherbough.” The man finally caught his breath.  “Then we have no need to engage. Inform the guard that no one is to set foot outside the village until they have moved on.” Runar said to the man. “But sir, what of Toddia's heartstone? It must be retrieved before the service.” The man looked at Runar, worry on his features. “Of all the times for sin eaters to appear…” Runar huffed in annoyance. “Let us deal with them for you. Minfilia and I have experience fighting the eaters and if there is something you need then we’ll find it.” Leeja urged. Runar was conflicted for a moment before realising they were serious about going. They explained the significance of the hearthstone and when they had been armed with all the information, they went to leave the village, only for Minfilia to stop and look at Leeja, slightly worried about. “What’s wrong?” She asked. “I nearly forgot about Thancred. What if he returns before I do?” She asked, worried about getting into trouble with him. “I’m coming with you, don’t worry. Besides, he doesn’t have to know unless something goes sideways. Let’s go” Leeja smiled warmly at her and the two of them left to find the sin eaters in question.

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #leeja fythe #thancred waters #my writing #shadowbringers #urianger augurelt #Y'shtola rhul #emet-selch

[toadeyes-miqote]

Would have sworn that it reminded me of Demon Tabard from Crystal towers raid...

"Guess not... By any chance you were aware of the raids that went on in your tower? Were you there somewhere? Helping out?"

"Yeah I like the way it looks."

"In green shades."

"I suppose this matches. Coultenet and Ysayle wore one like this too."

"What brought up this sudden nostalgia may I ask?"

"Well, met a male Sun Miqo'te you see. His head was fill with dreams of adventures. Looking up to heroes. But as I told him and Alisaie and Ryne. With great power. Comes great responsibilities. Most stories are written by those who see the end results. Not many have the chance to walk with the ones involved. And experience their struggles with them. Dying is easy. Its the ones left behind that have to pick up the pieces. I didn't do what I do for glory. there's someone I had to find. "

"You will live to see tomorrow." "…Such confidence…"

"… You will."

"Exarch, there is something I need to ask you." "If it is within my ability to answer yes." "Who else have you taken from me?" "No other. Thancred was the first attempt." "..."

--------

I'm already spoilered by media on his identity, didn't have context since I joined before Endwalker's launch. Seeing his pics and playing the raids had me wondering if Demon Tabard of Aiming was based off his color scheme or design. And Indigo Ramie Tabard of Aiming became my dyeable replacment until I can get the forgiven tabard of aiming.

Its a bit unfortunate that she doesn't remember him much (sorry Exarch) other than Crystal Tower raids being another one of Cid's consultation jobs and the Bloody Banquet happened a day or two after the raid in my timeline(12 hrs IRL.... sorry Exarch).

Sorry Exarch, she's talking about her mate not G'raha. Exarch Stop. Overthinking.

Sorry Exarch... she's not the marksmen the PR team crack her to be~~<3 No Exarch, I'm not bullying you.

Hate to break it to you Exarch. Thancred set up her stupid friendship threshold. Most who meet her, ends up seeing the hero, few have seen the person. Its on you Exarch. The twins are a good example, one see the hero, the other see the person.

Haucherfant was in that weird spot where he started seeing her as the person after a period of seeing her as the adventurer/hero hence the heartache. I have shorts written for him but I have yet to find the exact timeframe.

I have to do this without shooting up your robe Exarch. Thanks for wearing shorts. Who's bright idea was it to have him position like this? And why is the shoebill keeping an eye on things?

I"m sorry I'm too embarrassed to look up his robe to see if his Exarch model has a tail. It felt rude to do so on realising the way he was posed. Cut scene didn't show his tail.

Bonus

"You guys are not dancing dammit!"

#ffxiv #Book 5 - Shadowbringers #miqo'te #Crystal Towers #never meet your heroes #Miqo'te papers #Cat Gramps #Crystal Exarch #I"m sorry I'm too embarrassed to look up his robe to see if his Exarch model has a tail #I forgot to check if Exarch has a tail. #Demon Tabard #All your fashion sense is belong to Demon Tabard of Aiming #Tracking Hylnyan

[mirror-alchemist]

Hi here’s another part with some of my favorite humorous moments.

Still so many screenshots to go through OTL (I still have an unhealthy amount of Urianger screenshots so he’s getting his own post again)

#Final Fantasy XIV #Final Fantasy 14 #FFXIV #FF14 #5.3 spoilers #shadowbringers spoilers #ffxiv shadowbringers #spoilers #patch 5.3 #screenshots #ffxiv screenshots #man when you choose the delivery moogle option it made the moogle sound too #I died at that loool #But Thancred's response had me dying

[autumnslance]

Character meme: Thancred

Give me a character and I’ll break them down:

This got long cuz I tend to ramble about this dude.

How I feel about this character:

This utter absolute godsdamned bastard of a man. How dare he.

When I really got into FFXIV finally (after only dabbling for a bit), the age gap of his listed 32 and my RL age at the time put the same distance as me and my own younger brother, and that is where Thancred fits. I was FINE with him as a total bro, as the local disaster, similar to a younger sibling I am both fond of and exasperated by. He has a lot of backstory, character development, and changes, even before Shadowbringers really brings his various issues and working through them to the foreground. I love snarky, sarcastic characters, using that to cover their pain and issues. Highly competent but still so full of doubts. Acting out middle child of the core Scions family (now the elder brother figure with Papalymo gone and his own sense of responsibility kicking in in healthier ways).

There's a lot there, and he hits a lot of character tropes I like as a writer and reader both. So for 2 full playthroughs, he was a colleague, a companion, a pal, a bro.

Now. Now when I make a fic writing WoL based off the lady midlander CGI model, now when I decide to make an ace WoL who won't get shipped with anyone cuz we so rarely see that, now when I decide to roll Aeryn through the MSQ and got to meeting the Scions and Ifrit's quest...

Sigh. Here we are, 3+ years and counting, and "Shippy Nonsense" has completely taken over my FFXIV posting and it's all that Damn Rogue's fault. I blame his bonus to sneak attack vs a WoL's smallclothes. I know he took that feat.

He’s still my bro that I am going to tease affectionately while my character swoons, but I am going to be amusedly grumbly about it forever.

(Also I still think his ARR model is Generic Anime Protag #3547 and isn’t all that visually interesting. I like bits and pieces of the HW mountain hobo look. I think his ShB model is better at showing his experience and personality, but still wish there were some adjustments.)

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Fellow Wolcred ships. I love you all. Also it just makes “sense” to me to ship WoL with a Scion over most other NPCs, and Thancred is definitely the default nice handsome male romance option like what one gets at the beginning of a Bioware game (looking at you, Carth, Kaiden, Alistair...). I just. y’know. Thought OC/NPC shipping was for other people, not me.

I have a soft spot for occasional Y'shtola/Thancred and Urianger/Thancred. I feel like he’s a person who’d only open to true romantic relationships with people he’s known and trusted for awhile, because of his own doubts and issues.

He’s totally a Bi disaster though; a lean toward women, perhaps, but certain dudes’ll turn his head.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Thancred & Minfilia for the found family brother-sister trope.

Thancred & Ryne for the same, with father-daughter flavor instead.

Thancred & Urianger for the best bros back and forth.

Thancred & Y'shtola for the best bros in a different way. I also include here occasional side-along headcanons for a FWB situation for them, safe comfort and release--especially after the Lifestream--but without romance; their love is platonic.

(I can’t quite see Urianger doing a casual FWB in the same way tho, he doesn’t strike me as the type; it’s all or nothing there.)

My unpopular opinion about this character

How I see the "temporary eye injury." How he likely wasn't as much of a slut as assumed--while he got plenty, he also used the flirting as a cover a lot (esp given how he drops the flirty demeanor entirely post-Antitower). How he likely wasn't as much of a drunkard in ARR patches as assumed, either; getting blackout drunk makes little sense when the issue was loss of control thanks to possession.

I also think many of the people who think it would have been “fitting” (or just wished for) him to die at the Trolley RP Duty in ShB missed some of the point of Shadowbringers’ overarching themes. ShB could certainly be dark at times, but overall was a story of hope and the differences between remembering the past versus being held captive by it, and the bonds between people. If it were a more tragic story with more pessimistic themes, then yes; Thancred dying then to protect Ryne with their issues unresolved would have been (heartbreaking but) fitting. However, that’s not the story being told; it’s him using that battle as catharsis to beat at his own issues and realize he really had repeated his original mistakes. To make his peace with Minfilia’s loss and then, in the end, work things through with Ryne and be the man he should have been for her.

Ryne gets the fairy tale ending of having her parental figure that she feared resented her tell her he was sorry and fix himself for her.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

We should have seen more of his and Minfilia’s found family relationship in game. There wasn’t a lot of room for it in 2.0, it could have been in the 2.x patches a bit more, but a lot about their relationship is described after she’s already gone.

Ran’jit was Thancred’s kill. There is no way that was originally written with the General porting out last second just for the WoL to suddenly be able to defeat his plot armor. The Trolley RP Duty has the foil character set up, the “last special bullet,” and the player is controlling Thancred at the time. It makes no narrative sense and stinks of executive meddling out of some fear the players would feel cheated by not having it be WoL who defeats Ran’jit, but it’s a serious misstep in the story. We could have, should have, fought suped-up Jongleurs as the speed bump boss to Vauthry, as those characters also were woefully underused.

I’m also hoping for more personal Scion history as we get to Old Sharlayan; while most of the older Scions are from or were educated in the Dravanian Colony, being around the culture and people again shall surely give us more information as to their academic backgrounds.

And we all always need more nutkin interactions and shenanigans.

#Final Fantasy XIV #Lyn Prompts #Thancred Waters #I love him and want to shake him for being Like That

[whitherliliesbloom]

eyes fixed upon a shiny ray

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #24 - illustrious ]

[ alphinaud/wol ] ★ [ 2,858 words ]  ★ [ aetherweave au ]

witch / wizard academy au i’ve never written for. features mintdrop’s totomi and windupdragoon’s kirishimi. mentions heirsofdiscord’s moth’ir, ancientecho’s laurelis, peachteaoni’s lily and windupnamazu’s lunya.

illustrious-  famous, well respected, and admired

asking the star student of the most prestigious magic academy in eorzea out to the end of year prom is as daunting as it sounds

“Gods, sulk all you want, but can you at least stop pacing? You’re making me dizzy.” Alisaie sighs heavily, resisting the urge to yell only because she knew full well that her voice would echo through the halls at lightning speed, and she’s already been reprimanded for noise disruptions one too many times in the past now. 

Where she sat atop the wooden desk, she glared down at her twin, who has been walking laps around the back of the classroom with his hands plastered upon his chin for the past 10 minutes now. Alisaie had hoped to spend her free period practicing Blitz Ball, but it would seem that her brother and practically the rest of the academy was far more hung up about the upcoming end of year promenade dance, and she’s close to getting sick of all the endless chatter about who everyone was going to ask out as their dance partner.

The young witch in training had about just the same amount of interest in her brother’s love life as she did history of the arcane arts, which is to say none at all. But family is family... and if Alphinaud failed in his endeavor to ask out the girl he’s had his eyes set on for the past year now, she will never hear the end of his relentless mutters.

“Just ask her directly. It’s not that hard is it?” Thancred thinks to chime in from two desks away, fiddling with his jet black wand. 

And though Alisaie wholeheartedly agrees with Thancred’s assessment, she cannot bring herself to pass up the opportunity to call him out either.

“Hah, like you’re one to talk. How long again did it take for you to ask out Moth’ir? And you’ve known for what, almost your entire life now?” 

Light banter and friendly, healthy amounts of spite is normal among their group, and Thancred seems to be unaffected by Alisaie’s words as he throws his hand up and shrugs with an unapologetic smile. 

Alphinaud doesn’t stop pacing - not until he feels a light zap of lightning strike his bare hand and jolt him out of his focus, his head turned up to look at the wide chesire grin of the transfer student who twirled his leopard patterned wand between his index and middle finger playfully. Internally, Alisaie thanks the high heavens.

“Hien!” Alphinaud’s voice is a mixture of accusatory, confused and startled, and the raven haired student could only let out a hearty laugh before leaning himself back against the wall.

“Relax! A little jolt won’t kill you.” Hien begins waving his wand recklessly in the air, no doubt asking for reprimand if a teacher were present. “Anyways.. Who’s the lucky girl who’s caught the eye of our Alphinaud here? Must be someone quite special for him to be so nervous.”

Everyone’s eyes collectively widen, now fixed upon Hien as Thancred opts to answer on behalf of his friend.

“You don’t know? It’s Illya. It’s always been Illya.”

“Mm... Sorry, the name doesn’t ring any bells.”

The silence lingers a little longer now, as the other three exchange wide eyed glances of shock between them. 

“Y-you.. you don’t know Illya?” Alphinaud sounds utterly taken aback, and Alisaie almost speaks up to remind him that not everyone would be as enamored with the star student of Aetherweave as he is. 

“The little witch of a thousand miracles? Lady of the endless garden? The viola nebula? The star blossom? The tamer of the beasts? The one who pulls down the stars and wears them under her hat?” As he listed off the top of his head some of the most famous titles that had belonged to the object of his infatuations, Hien could only hum softly in thought as a response.

“I’ve heard of a few of those titles... I didn’t think they were all referring to the same person, however. Just how many names does she go by?”

Had it been anybody else, Alisaie would have probably accuse them for living under a rock - because anyone who has studied at Aetherweave academy would certainly not go long without hearing of Illya’s name. She didn’t know a single person in the academy who has not heard of at least one of the girl’s heroic exploits with her friends. 

Hien however was a transfer student, one who came from a sister academy back in the Far East only a few months ago, and despite having settled into his new surroundings comfortably, is still not entirely aware of all the gossip and rumors that run rampant in the magical halls of Aetherweave. 

“More like.. what name doesn’t she go by.” Alisaie’s shoulder rises and falls. “Have you heard of what happened just three months ago? About the Guardian Tree at Everschade?”

“That rings a bell. It was in the process of dying but somehow magically got rejuvenated and started to bloom purple flowers, didn’t it?”

“That was her doing.”

Now, Hien’s eyes are wide in surprise, letting out an elongated whistle as he crosses his arms over his chest. 

“By the kami...”

“She was also one of the few students in the academy to have not only met but also tamed a wild wyrm. They say her new dragon friend, Midgardsormr is sitting right in her backyard.” Alphinaud adds, “Her friends and her were also the ones who were at the front of the charge in the winter of last year, defending the school when there was a surge of Sineaters coming from Lakeland.” His hand rises up to hold his chin. “Not to mention, she’s a top student. She’s consistently been in the top 5 of our year when it comes to grades. And her command over magic is praised even by grandfather himself.” 

Praise coming from Archon Louisoix himself? That certainly is something worth prestige and recognition. Rightfully impressed now, Hien’s lips turn upwards into smirk as he turns to look back at the boy. 

“Well, I can see why you’d like her. What’s the problem then, friend? Is she not easy to get along with?”

At Hien’s suggestion, Alphinaud quickly shakes his head.

“Oh, no, she’s not like that. She’s very approachable. Perhaps a bit...shy, and not very good at speaking to strangers at all, but she’s a wonderful person. Perhaps... a bit too nice, is all.”

With his response, Alphianud drops his head with a heavy sigh and casts his glance downwards onto the floor in exasperation, and it prompts Hien to hold back any further questions. He merely turns to look at Alisaie and Thancred, who can only frown and shrug respectively in silence.

It wasn’t that Alphinaud hasn’t tried to ask the girl out - he’s been trying to for months now, well before even the details of the promenade dance had been released and he saw it as a good opportunity to finally ask the girl out to be his dance partner. 

He’s tried many times, and failed spectacularly an equal amount. 

Perhaps as a result of her kindness, Illya has found herself surrounded by a group of other equally individualistic and unique friends who, in one way or another, has interrupted Alphinaud’s attempts to ask her out at least once. 

He remembers Illya’s best friend, Laurelis, a joyful miqo’te girl who was well aware of his affections for her friend and is even the most enthused out of all of Illya’s circle about helping them get together... but has also unknowingly sabotaged his attempt to ask the girl out to movie date when she’d pulled Illya to town right after school for an impromptu shopping trip.

Lunya, a sharp-tongued girl who had been in a different class from Illya had been ecstatic to find that her friend, who she would not normally get much time to study with, had opted to take the same astrology and fortune telling electives as her. And for the three months that they had been together, she would always swiftly pull Illya away from him with a protective glare. 

And Lily, who studied in the year above them and was close and dating Illya’s pseudo big-brother figure, had busied Illya with the task of tutoring her after class on how to become better at healing magicks, an endeavor that took up almost all of Illya’s spare time and he could not in good conscious ask her to abandon her close friend’s heartfelt request - especially after learning that her wish to become better at healing stemmed from an accident that Kaye had almost sustained a fatal wound for during last year’s battle against the Sineaters. 

He can no longer keep track of the number of times he’d failed in his attempts, let alone take into account his own confidence beginning to waver... but the two golden foil tickets and a pressed lily in his pocket weighs heavy, and as Tataru and Krile had so eloquently egged him on and warned him, he might not get another chance ever again if he missed this one. 

“OI! HIEN!” A loud, boisterous voice calls out, and a loud thud and an ‘oof’ from Hien sounds out, followed by a breathless chuckle as he shakes the woman who had tackled him against the wall off himself. 

“Kiri, your greetings are enthusiastic as ever, but we’re in the middle of something now.” 

“Huh?” Mismatched eyes finally turn to look at the twins and Thancred, and she lets out a nonchalant shrug. “Oh. Uh, sorry I guess. I can leave ya guys to it then.”

“No, it’s quite alright, Kirishimi.” Alphinaud smiles warmly at his senior, the tone of his voice amiable as ever. “We weren’t talking about anything important.” 

“I didn’t know you considered you not being able to ask Illya out to prom as being unimportant.” His twin sister snickers, and Alphinaud bites back an aggrieved huff. 

“Alisaie-”

“Illya?” Kirishimi’s expression lights up, ears perking as she places her hands upon her hips and gestures towards the direction of the front entrance of the school. “Speakin’ of her, I think she’s leavin’ to go on a date with someone. I saw them going down the stairs after I passed by her classroom and they were talking about uh... ‘desserts’ or something.”

“W-What? A date?” There’s panic evident in her voice, normally already fair complexion on the elezen boy rapidly paling now as he takes a step towards the taller woman. “Is...Isn’t it still in the middle of the school period?? They can’t possibly-”

“Town’s only a few minutes walk away though?” Kiri retorts with a shrug, “They’ll have plenty of time before the next module an hour later... and maybe they’ll even have time enough to work in a kiss or somethin’-”

“I-I... I have to-” Before even hearing the rest of Kirishimi’s sentence, Alphinaud finds himself bolting out of the classroom door and down the hallway towards winding flights of stairs and talking paintings, who chime out in surprise and ask a collective series of ‘where are you going?’ which goes unanswered.

Thancred turns to look at Kiri, a suspicious glint in his eye as he quirks an eyebrow out. 

“She’s not really going on a date, is she?”

Kiri merely shrugs, a mischievious smirk plastered on her face as Hien wraps a proud arm around her shoulder, an equally triumphant grin upon his face.

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

By the time Alphinaud’s found himself past a few feet in front of the building, and sees a familiar curtain of swaying white hair and a tall witch hat crowned upon it walking towards the fountain in the middle of the academy square and towards the front gates of Aetherweave, he’s already rapidly short of breath and found his legs aching, his lungs gasping and burning desperately for air. 

But he doesn’t allow himself to stop- cannot allow himself to stop as he swallows back the lump in his throat and continues sprinting forwards, his voice calling out to her loudly from across the pathway.

“Illya! Illya wait!” 

He thanks the twelve when he sees the lalafellin girl stop in her tracks and turn around with a bewildered expression, her companion beside her equally startled and stopping  next to her as well - though he pays no mind to them... cannot bring himself to exert enough energy to focus on anyone other than Illya. 

It isn’t until he gets closer to the pair, sweat trickling down his brow, his chest heaving as he pants for air heavily and his hands gripping onto his knees as he lurches forward does he finally recognize just who the mysterious student that Illya has decided to go on a ‘date’ with.

“W-wait.... wait a minute..” Alphinaud mutters in between huffs and sharp inhales, navy blue eyes staring down at a lalafellin with familiar straight cut bangs and ruby red eyes. “M-m.... Mint?!” 

Mint.... is Illya’s date? The genki self-proclaimed witch idol peppermint?? Who also happens to be dating his friend Estinien??? She’s who Kirishimi tricked him into thinking was Illya’s date?!

“Whaddya want Alphinaud??” Peppermint lets out a huff and a pout, seemingly unconcerned at his haggard state as she crosses her arms over her chests. “Illya promised to get cream puffs with me during our break time. If you wanna have some, you’ll have to get in line!”

“W-what...? That’s not...”

Twelve forfend... He’s been deceived utterly and completely... He’d like to think he would be a bit more perceptive and intuitive enough to know when he’s being lied to or played but... it would seem like all sense of rationality of his flies out the window when it comes to Illya.

The girl in question merely gazes up at him with concern swirling in her lustrous violet eyes as she tightens her hold on the book she had been holding close to her chest. 

“A-are you okay, Alphinaud?”

The worry in Illya’s voice urges Alphinaud to quickly swallow and give her a nod, a reassuring smile gracing his features despite his drained complexion.

“I’m... I’m quite alright. Thank you, Illya.” 

His heart skips a beat when his smile is mirrored by her, and the radiance of her presence is almost enough to leave him dumb and speechless until she speaks up once more to question him.

“Did you need something from me? You seemed like you were in a hurry-”

Oh seven hells... how is he going to explain his way out of this now? He could make perfectly reasonable and well timed excuses for his other failed attempts... and he could just as easily lie to her and say that it was nothing now... 

But he knows not only would that arouse suspicion, especially with someone as perceptive to people’s lies and intentions as Illya was... but it’d perhaps put her on edge around him in the future. 

And though he’d have liked to invite Illya to prom in private and free of an audience member consisting of someone from her circle of friends, he’s already made a right fool of himself and caused a scene between them.... So to hide away or run from the situation would be...

With a defeated sigh, Alphinaud fishes out one of the tickets from his uniform pocket and holds it out to the girl with trembling fingers, watching in anticipation as her own starspangled eyes widen in shock. 

“I-I.... I just wanted to ask... If you would perhaps like to go to prom with me?”

The normally talkative Mint is now completely silent, holding back impish cheers and laughter as she merely steps back to pump her fist in the air, leaving Illya on her lonesome as a heat quickly spreads across the girl’s fair cheeks and reddens the bridge of her nose. 

It doesn’t take much thought at all for Illya to raise a hand up to take the ticket from him, gazing down thoughtfully at the reflective golden foil and the silver letterings etched into the shimmering surface until she finally remembers to nod in answer.

“Um... Y-yes... I would love to-”

---------

Illya is grateful that nobody else other than Mint had been around to bear witness to what happened, or she’d be certain that the whole school would be privvy to the gossip before sundown. 

Mint’s teasing and chattering is enough on it’s own to deal with, as the girl cheerily munches into her cream puff and speaks in a hushed tone to the violet eyed girl on the other side of the table. 

“I’m so glad for you, Illya! Now you don’t have to worry at all!”

“Y-yeah... I-I suppose so..” The heat from Illya’s cheeks hasn’t dissipated, and she stares into the reflection of the warm milk tea in her hands. “B-but.. what am I supposed to do with the love letter? I’ve been working on it for weeks and now-”

Mint pauses for a moment, cheeks puffed up and full of food as she continues to chew and darts her eyes up to the white ceiling in thought.

“Hm... Well you can still give it to him! Maybe during the prom or something? I’m sure he’ll appreciate it very much!”

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #kiwisffxivwrite2021 #alphinaud leveilleur #alphinaud #illya skawi #peppermint #kirishimi #fanfic #mine #aetherweave academy au #OH LOOK A FILL FOR AN AU I'VE BARELY TALKED ABOUT AGAIN #we've come so far #the title is lyrics from shiny ray by yurika! #which is little witch academia's OP

[raelly-writing]

Until the Morrow

Thancred/fWoL, 5.0 spoilers for the MSQ. Takes place after the level 77 dungeon :)

-----

Thancred stared up into the top of the old bunk bed. In the dark, he could clearly hear the sounds of Urianger and Alphinaud’s slow and even breathing.

A vague, nonsensical feeling of envy stirred in his chest. Sighing, he twisted onto his side, pulling the covers closer around himself. The hasty movement made his muscles ache, battered and bruised as he still felt after all the fighting. Really, after a day so long and exhausting as the one they’d had, he should be dead to the world as well.

Try as he might tho, sleep would not come to him. His thoughts kept twisting and turning, picking over the events of the day, regret like a black void in his chest as each one inevitably made his thoughts loop back to another memory - of things he had not said when he should have, how he could now see how keeping Ryne at arm’s length had hurt her so deeply, and picking over each and every moment of the past few weeks, years, vowing to do better, to be better for her sake.

But he wouldn’t be to any good use on the morrow if he didn’t get some rest.

“Seven Hells…” Despite that his gruff whisper was muffled against the thin pillow it sounded so loud in the quiet room. Try as he might, even when resorting to old meditation techniques, the uncomfortable energy that simmered and crawled right beneath his skin just wouldn’t go away, leaving him twisting and turning in search for a comfortable sleeping position.

Finally, with a twinge of annoyance at himself, Thancred threw aside the covers and rolled out of bed. Maybe a walk would let him relax. The old worn floorboards shifted beneath his sock clad feet as he silently made his way to the door with his boots in hand, yet neither of his companions thankfully stirred from their slumber.

When he closed the door behind him and the stillness of the dark corridor enveloped him, Thancred let out his breath in a slow exhale and quickly pulled on his boots.

Now that he was fully awake and resigned to contemplating the past day, that familiar, painful ache in his heart that had been his constant companion for so many years stirred. Minfilia truly was gone now - at last freed from her long vigil over this world and allowed to rest. A part of him wished he could have seen her one more time, heard her calm melodic voice for the last time... That he could have told her those things he should have so long ago, and been allowed to say his farewells to her, to assure her he’d look after Ryne and the rest of their friends.

Automatically, his steps carried him to the next door, where he paused and let his fingertips settle against the rough wood, as though he could sense the rest of their group sleeping beyond it.

Well, Minfilia was not entirely gone - part of her did live on in Ryne. A faint smile curled the corner of his mouth. The events of the day had clearly taken their toll on her, yet she’d put on such a brave face right until they arrived back here to Twine, unwilling to admit to her fatigue until everyone else had been yawning widely.

It was a very strange and confusing mix of feelings but despite his restless mind, he felt… somehow more at ease than he had in a long time. Like he finally could see the hints of a clearer path ahead of himself, no longer obscured by the darkness of his mourning and sense of failure, that there was no longer an old intangible weight bearing down on his chest and shoulders.

Shaking his head, Thancred silently stalked further down the corridor of the former mine workers’ quarters, towards the door out to the balcony. He needed some fresh air, to let his thoughts settle until they no longer twisted and turned in whichever direction they pleased. If they didn’t linger on the past, it they trailed forward - to the battles ahead, the things he’d need to speak of with Ryne so he could properly clear the air between them, the old regrets that still clung to his conscience that he felt he needed to make up for, the lingering hypervigilance against Eulmore’s pursuit of them, of Viana and the sudden change to their relationship after so many years…

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth at the pleasant memory of kissing her, still so fresh that he could almost still feel her lips against his. If he didn’t know better, he’d think it had all been a pleasant dream, and that he’d wake up at any moment with Urianger and Y’shtola hovering above him as they tended to his wounds.

Wouldn’t be the first time his dreams elected to taunt him with what he thought was beyond him. He pushed open the door, the refreshing cold night air rushing into his lungs and immediately nipping at his skin laid bare by his pushed up sleeves. The glow of a lantern took him by surprise, as did the figure leaning against the banister. Thancred stopped dead in his tracks, just as the very person he’d been thinking of whipped around, her body language tense and ready.

Even though they both immediately visibly relaxed, the air was at once thick with tension as they stared at each other. They hadn’t been afforded any time to speak in private, not with their friends around, everyone utterly exhausted after the day’s events, and the multitude of questions the inhabitants of Twine had had upon their return.

The surreal sensation tugged at him once more. For over five years he’d clung to memories of quiet moments he’d spent in her company, missing their comfortable companionship, worrying about what was happening on the Source, his heart yearning to be by her side once more - all while trying to force himself to cut off those stubborn feelings that had blossomed from that friendship. He’d been so certain that it’d been for the best not to act on them, that if he did not, she’d let go of whatever she thought she might feel and move on to someone more deserving of her affections.

Someone who was more trustworthy than he.

And yet, there in the soft lantern light, he saw the undeniable warmth in her gaze as she looked at him. Clearing his throat, Thancred offered her a small, apologetic smile. “Pardon me, I didn’t know the balcony was occupied.”

Viana huffed out a quiet laugh, her smile earnest if a tad tired. “Fret not, I believe there’s enough room for the both of us,” she replied quietly while shrugging one shoulder. The blanket she had wrapped around herself, already hanging precariously after her sudden motion when he’d startled her, slipped a little further off that shoulder. Instantly, Thancred felt an itch in his fingers to readjust it, to pull her close once more - to feel her lips against his again and soak in the warmth of her leaning against him without the hard press of their respective armours in the way.

An unfamiliar nervous tingle sparked in his stomach as he carefully nudged shut the door behind him. Hells, he’d yanked her into that first kiss out of fear and adrenaline - a leap of faith, before he lost his nerve and accepted the easy out she had given him of what her accidental confession could entail, to let him just carry on as he had without confronting what lay between them - but he wasn’t about to act quite so impulsive now.

With slow, measured steps he closed the distance between, giving him time to observe her. Viana leaned against the banister, despite the uncertain energy to her pose looking more at ease in his presence than he could recall for… well, ever since they’d been reunited in this dying world. It no longer felt like there was a vast expanse between them - one he knew had mainly been of his own doing, holding her at arm’s length, until it had reached that breaking point in Twine.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” he asked.

She raised an eyebrow at him, the teasing glint in her eyes so painfully familiar from years past, when they had both been standing on the Source. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Thancred couldn’t help but huff out a quiet laugh. This felt familiar. Comforting. Perhaps grabbing her around the waist to keep her from leaving had been less a leap of faith off a steep cliff with a long drop and more a leap to join her on her side of the rift between them.

Perhaps that was why he felt so uncertain in this moment, his footing not yet stable on this new ground he’d suddenly found himself on.

Thancred leaned against the banister, keeping a small if unassuming distance between them, and shrugged while staring out across the moonlit landscape. “Hard to shake the feeling that Eulmore will be snapping at our heels any moment now,” he replied.

“I think we’re safe for now,” Viana hummed and turned to rest her elbows on the railing. “The loss of Ran’jit is sure to upset the chain of command for a little while, maybe even rattle morale a bit. Suspect we’ll be bringing the fighting to them, if we wish to reach the Kholusia lightwarden...”

“The sooner the better,” he replied. “Vauthry has a lot to answer for.” It was hard to keep the grim tone out of his voice. For years he’d harboured anger towards the city for locking away Ryne in a dark cell, far below the sea level. While striking down Ran’jit for good eased some of it, he was not the sole person responsible for the treatment of her. And three years were not enough to wipe away the memories of the weeks he spent infiltrating the city, of the debauched acts of hedonism and heartless cruelty that he’d witnessed while slinking from shadow to shadow, seeking a way down to the gaol.

The remnants of his anger from earlier in the day stirred at the back of his mind, but a warm touch to the bare skin of his arm drew him back to the present.

It was a small, hesitant touch - just the back of Viana’s fingers pressed against his arm, thumb brushing over his wrist - but he felt it as surely as the comforting heat of a fire on a cold day. “Did you have a chance to speak with Ryne yet?” she asked softly.

Thancred cast a glance at her, and shook his head. “Only a little. She was so tired that I said we’d speak further once we’re back in the Crystarium.”

She made a quiet sound of understanding, and much to his regret she withdrew her hand. After a moment of hesitation, he reached back out for it, sliding his fingers along the inside of her wrist in a silent question. Something in his stomach twisted, a nervous jolt of energy he was unfamiliar with, when she immediately opened her hand so he could loosely entwine his fingers with hers.

They stood in silence for a moment, with only the muted sounds from the other side of the small town where the miners were celebrating the night’s return as their company. Her hand was warm against his, and he found himself relishing in the small, innocent contact.

Exhaling slowly, Thancred rubbed his thumb against her hand. How many times hadn’t he seduced and tempted men and women, confident that his easy smile and grandiose compliments would win their favour - be it to coax information out of them or merely for a night of simple pleasure. Those grand words had never worked on her. But, where Y’shtola had always had a sharp, dismissive remark at hand, Viana had thrown his words back at him with an amused roll of her eyes, her teasing retorts just as void of sincere intent as his.

As memories of trading jabs and barbs with her, faded by the many years that had passed, played in his mind, an awareness crept up on him of his every touch and word that quickly grew into a nagging worry that any gesture of his now would be mistaken as disingenuous.

“Hey… something wrong?”

Wetting his lips, Thancred kept his eyes on the far horizon. “Forgive me,” he drawled with a self deprecating lilt to his tone, “I used to be good at… all of this.”

Viana was quiet for a moment, before the warm weight of her upper arm settled against his as she leaned against him. It prompted him to look up to see her give him a reassuring, if nervous, smile. “It’s okay Thancred, I don’t have any expectations.”

By reflex, he raised an eyebrow, a joking remark right at the tip of his tongue, but before he had a chance to speak her eyes grew wide and she jerked upright, yanking her hand out of his loose grip in the process.

“I mean - Hells, that came out wrong,” she rushed to explain as a deep blush coloured her cheeks. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t how - It’s not that I think you’ll-” Embarrassment flitted across her features and she sharply averted her gaze, turning her head away from him with a frustrated sound.

Thancred blinked, caught a little off-guard at seeing such a flustered reaction from her, but then gave her a lopsided smile. With a fond laugh under his breath, he felt some of his own worries ebb away. Turning his body towards her, he pulled up the blanket that barely clung to her arm so it rested more securely over her shoulder, then let his hand settle at the small of her back. “Viana, relax.”

A couple of seconds passed before she exhaled slowly, her shoulders slumping a little when she turned to mirror his pose, leaning on one elbow against the banister, gaze downcast and an uncertain frown on her face. One of her fingers tapped against the banister in a nervous manner before she reached out and took his hand between hers.

“What I meant is that I have no experience with these sorts of relationships either,” she finally said, her tone even and measured, like she’d thought each word over. The feeling of her trailing slow, random patterns over his palm that left a tingling sensation in their wake, but he kept still, his other hand having fallen to rest at her hip. A look of weary amusement flittered across her features, “Casual encounters, yes, though those never seemed to be particularly satisfactory.” Her fingers stilled, and she just held his hand between hers, enveloping it in her warm grasp. “But there was never that… trust, to let someone close for something more long-lasting.”

The weight of her words settled in his chest. Swallowing thickly, Thancred curled his fingers around her hand and raised it so he could brush a kiss to the back of her fingers. Wherever this between them went, for however long she wanted him by her side, he’d rather the gods struck him down on the spot than ever risk hurting her. “I suppose we’ll just have to learn together then,” he rasped out.

Viana laughed quietly under her breath as she moved to cup his jaw with her free hand. “I’m willing to,” she replied gently. A warm sense of contentment swelled up in his entire body when she lowered her head to rest her brow against his - there were no urgent tasks to see at this moment, no need to do anything to rush things. Humming, he slipped his hand beneath the blanket to wrap his arm around her waist, relishing in the warmth radiating off her through her thin shirt. Slowly, he nuzzled his nose against hers, soaking in the moment, before capturing her lips in a tender, lingering kiss. There'd been so many times that his traitorous dreams had fed him figments and shards of what it’d be like to kiss her, to hold her close, that part of him still reeled at the knowledge that he was welcome to do so now.

He could feel her smile against his lips, her thumb brushing over his cheekbone while her other hand slipped out of his grasp to settle on his shoulder. With a dull thud, the blanket fell to the floor, but she made no move to break away from him. The kiss melted into another, then one more. A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold night air rolled down his spine, and he subconsciously tensed his fingers, pressing them into her back, his other light on her hip. After all these years without much physical contact, his entire body sang with satisfaction at feeling her body settle against his - not accidental brushes while they sparred or went about their daily business, but comfortably leaning her entire frame against him. When they finally broke apart, the stillness of the night settled around them, and Viana moved her arms to rest around his shoulders.

It took all he had to suppress a shudder as he pressed his nose against the crook of her neck, his thoughts fuzzy and disoriented, merely relishing in having her close, of being enveloped in her embrace, warmth and scent. If only he could stay like this with her for many more hours, just holding her and being held in turn.

“This is nice,” she finally whispered.

Thancred chuckled and gave her hip a small squeeze. “Glad to hear I am not too out of practise after all these years.”

Viana laughed under her breath, but made no move to break the embrace, not even when he a few moments later felt her shiver.

As if to remind him of where they were, the cold night air nipped at his skin, and he realised she was in just a short sleeved shirt. Concern stirred him to turn his head and press a kiss to her neck. “Do you want to head back inside?”

Immediately, she leaned back from him, her expression apologetic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you from your sleep.”

With a low laugh from deep in his chest, Thancred shook his head and rubbed his thumbs against her waist. “You’re not, darling.” Then he leaned down, picking up the blanket from the worn out timber floor. When he straightened back up, he slipped his hand into hers and guided her over to the simple bench that was pushed up against the wall, the lantern perched on one end of it. “I’m not opposed to staying out here for a little while with you, ” he explained with, what he hoped, was a charming smile. Twelve, he felt so rusty.

There was an amused, affectionate glint in her eye as she accepted his invitation, and they settled down together, the blanket large enough to wrap around both of them.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

“Mhm,” she replied, just as her hand found his beneath the blanket and laced her fingers with his.

“Good,” he whispered, squeezing her hand. Despite the nervous simmering energy that lingered in his stomach, in the end it felt so… easy, knowing that his touches were welcome. No pretenses were needed, no sugar coated words to vye for her good graces or that game of measured and careful touches to tempt and seduce. Just the slow, timid return of the companionship he had missed so dearly since he’d been torn to this world.

He knew her. And for all his faults, she had accepted him, chosen him.

As they sat there, shoulders pressed together, quietly speaking about things that did not pertain to the labours that lay ahead of them, while staring up at the stars twinkling so far above, he felt himself relax, a small smile playing on his lips. There were other, practical things they would need to speak of - of their responsibilities as Scions, their pasts, and experiences - but those could wait for a later time.

After all these years, he could let himself just enjoy this small moment, as it were. Duty would call soon enough for both of them.

#thancred #thancred waters #thancred x wol #ffxiv #my writing #IDK guys #it is what it is #sometimes you just want to finish something

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite2021 Prompt #13 - Oneirophrenia

The Scions did not return to the Crystarium alone. Well, the bally whole world also had to get back from the outing to Scree and Amity, and the residents of the Crystarium were no different, but there was another rumor.

Something else stalked those returning to the Crystarium. Whispers of something on the edges, a shape at the corner of the eye, an errant rustle in the stillness. The two day's travel was condensed into a day of forced marching. With the Light returned and so many of the Crystarium outside its protective walls, the chance that irreparable damage could be done to its personnel was too much of a risk.

But whatever it was followed them, somehow, across the sea despite each ferry being checked and triple checked for both stragglers and unwanted hitchhikers.

Was it paranoia because the grand scheme went awry? Was it simply exhaustion from sleepless days imbuing and doing hard labor?

It wasn't a sin eater. Even Lightwardens, as intelligent as they may have been, could not resist the lure of so much living aether to sup. They would have been attacked while organizing for the lift back down or while on the shore waiting for the ferry.

Ghost was the word passed around. An old concept from before the Flood when there was enough darkness to half see apparitions in. It enjoyed a new heyday with the return of the Night, but a ghost in the brightness, that strange contradiction, was in a way perhaps even more unnerving. Everyone needed to rest. In the confines of the Crystarium, so guarded for a full century without a breach in the walls, rest would come easier.

At least, for those not burdened with the truth. For those that didn't have a bellglass in their heads, the sands dropping one by one. If they tarried too long, never mind a breach in the walls, the Lightwarden, or worse, would be born within those walls. The Flood would complete its ruin, and the Calamity that the Exarch and so many others had worked centuries to prevent would happen anyway.

So rather than rest, they poured themselves into research.

Without the coming and going of the night, the constant brightness made days feel like bells. How long had it been since she had gotten any shuteye? She looked at Thancred, resting his head on his chin, hands crossed but still holding onto a mothbitten scroll. The man was hardly an academic, but the skills had come back to him after some practice. Alphinaud by her side, splayed across the table, a priceless ancient tome for a pillow. Urianger had left to peruse the archive in the Ocular, how long ago? Was it a bell? Three bells? A day? Her tea had long gone cold and the biscuits were all eaten. She looked at the pile of books in their reshelve pile. They had raided half the Cabinet of Curiosity and Moren would undoubtedly throw a fit whenever he would next check up on him. The next day? What day was it. Y'shtola was aware of the feeling of needing to remember a bellglass. They were working against time... for what?

She shook her head to clear her thoughts as the gate to the forbidden section that she and the Scions had inhabited for at least a day. Perhaps three.

"Alisaie, is that you? Have you brought us poor trapped souls more tea?"

Silence.

Alisaie didn't have the patience to sit and scour tomes. She and Ryne were running over all of Nordvandt to look for solutions. Y'shtola tried to focus. Perhaps they could be back from the Inn at Journey's Head by now.

But Alisaie was not very good at being silent, especially when addressed. Nor did she usually carry something heavy enough to drag behind her. The scrape and clang of metal on metal steps made Y'shtola glance at the two men at the same table with her aethersight, not turning her head from the stairs. No they didn't seem to rouse despite the sound. Was she dreaming? Was this a dream?

The thoughts of the ghost returned to her. Didn't they say it looked like a knight? Didn't it whisper something? "Run.." "Where..." and "Stolen..." were the repeated sentiments, reportedly.

Y'shtola prepared for the worst. She raised the tome she had been reading from defensively and wished she had brought her staff down here.

As the figure came into view, her mind's eye was overwhelmed with brilliant light.

Y'shtola turned and threw an arm up in an attempt to shield from the light instinctively before remembering that her sight didn't work that way. She willed herself to shut off her aethersight and was shocked to see even then some Light leaking into her head.

It was certainly in the shape of a knight, she recognized the armor to be of Ishgardian make, not in a remote way similar to the armored knights of the First. It dragged behind a large block of steel that could maybe pass for a greatsword. This was the ghost all right. And Y'shtola put a few things together quickly, even as sleep deprived as she was.

"Why, you must be Fray."

"Shtola..."

Despite her present circumstances, she clicked her tongue in irritation, "You know better than to call me that," Even if this was a dream, she had standards. She lowered the book and placed it back on the table. Shtola, stolen, ah.

"Where..."

It occurred to her that there was something wrong. Fray was dressed in black armor, Xiao had told her. Not the gleaming white, dripping with astral aether here in front of her.

"Shtola... run..."

Y'shtola pinched herself. Definitely not dreaming here.

"Absolutely not. Besides where shall we run? Shall we run to the ends of Nordvandt and have you destroy the First from there? Shall we run back to the Source and wreak all sorts of ruin there? Jumpstart the next Calamity there and now? I think not."

"Where..."

For that, she had no response. The Warrior of Light was a bomb now. No different from the firekin that traversed Vylbrand, mayhap with but a little more self control. Y'shtola questioned for a moment how much control the bombs had to contain their explosions. Or was it all down to one errant slip?

"...Where is Xiao? Well, let's go bring you back to her, shall we?"

* * *

Her hand went numb. As if with the cold, but Fray's gauntlet wasn't cold. Jolts of fuzzy pain went up her arm like she had fallen asleep in an awkward pose and had compressed it under her body. She tried not to think about what her hand must look like.

As luck would have it, it was past clock midnight, meaning the rest of the Crystarium was largely asleep. Few people would see her escorting the ghost trailing and dripping with light aether to the Pendants. And even then, the Sorceress from Rak'tika aiding a ghost? Better her than them. She kept her aethersight on and gripped her mostly unfeeling hand harder to avoid looking back at what was a small sun in her mind's eye. The amount of aether cast strange shadows in the Musica Universalis.

The Manager of the Pendants of course was awake, but if he was surprised by the ghost that Y'shtola led by the hand, the Elf did not show it.

"You'll be headed to Mistress Longbao's room, I presume?"

Y'shtola nodded, now aware that her arm was completely numb to the elbow and somehow the numbness radiated to the small of her back. The manager went ahead to unlock the door and ushered the two, and the sword, in. Discretion was perhaps his greatest strength.

Xiao was in bed, seemingly slumbering, her expression troubled. Y'shtola, Ryne, and Alisaie had stripped her from her armor to her smallclothes and wiped the raw light aether from her body before doing another sealing of the Light and covering her with a blanket. The rags were burnt afterwards but Y'shtola remembered how stiff and brittle the cloth became. She wondered what was happening within the Warrior of Light.

"Shtola... Where..." The voice came from both Fray and Xiao simultaneously.

Letting go of Fray's gauntlet, Y'shtola kneeled by the bed and grasped Xiao's hand, entwining her fingers delicately and kissing the coarse, battleworn knuckles. Xiao did not squeeze back, but the troubled expression lessened. Her hand was still warm, warmer than Y'shtola's as usual, And if anything, the numbing that holding on to Fray's (or the thing that resembled Fray, Y'shtola there was none of the snide eloquence that Xiao had previously described) hand caused lessened.

Y'shtola still couldn't look at her directly with her aethersight, however. She was still far too bright, brimming with Light.

"Urianger found poetry in the Oculuar. Did you know they wrote poems and songs about us? The Warrior of Light and her Sweet? Apparently I die in your arms and you follow not long after. Very tragic. Very touching."

She placed her head on Xiao's chest, listening to her breathing, still deep, not shallow or pained. She didn't let go of Xiao's hand.

"Unfortunately I do not aim to be immortalized in sappy poetry anytime soon, so no dying in my arms, you hear?" Y'shtola said to Xiao's slumbering form.

She must have stayed there for quite a while, fingers locked with the other Miqo'te, for when she awoke again the specter of Fray had disappeared, whether it wandered off or returned to whence it came, she could not tell. Despite the awkward position in which she slept, she was refreshed, at least in the mind. Her back and knees were killing her.

Xiao also looked much more at peace, her brow was light and her mouth seemed curled in a slight smile. Y'shtola extracted her hand, all feeling returned, and left quietly. She needed more tea and biscuits and another tome to devour.

The bellglass in her head was righted and the sands began to slip once more.

#ffxiv #FFxivWrite2021 #FFxivWrite #story #wordvomit #horny'shtola #misc fic

[allycryz]

WOL Challenge #1: Tea

Prompt List Here 

(Doing these out of order and likely not every day)

Nerys x Y’shtola, Nerys x Emet-Selch

Immediately post 5.0 in the Crystarium, Hurt/Comfort* (*I plan on him coming back, just not sure how yet)

--

They need this celebration.

She drinks and toasts and smiles and accepts their congratulations. The relief on their faces and their voices–it must hurt. The sharp but gratifying pain of disinfecting a cut.

Nerys stays for a few hours and drinks cup after cup of water. Alcohol might dull the pain but she's too fragile and none of these people need to see her crumble.

The natural flow of a party happens, breaking into small groups for long conversations or dedicated drinking. Everyone will assume she is with another group. That's when she leaves. When they look for her (and they will, especially Thancred and Haurchefant) they will start with her rooms. And she will want that comfort but not now, not yet. 

The Cabinet of Curiosity is never locked. 

"The Exarch believes our wealth of information should be available to all." Moren had said, which seemed ironic even then. She is still a little angry at Urianger, but at least he has never pretended to not be secretive. At least, not in this same bold way.

The single attendant nods to her as she passes to the lower floors. Her feet take her to her favorite spot, even knowing it's twisting the knife. The fairy tale and folklore section is small and the evocative purple binding of the book jumps out at her.

Nerys removes Collected Folk Tales of Lakeland from the shelf. Traces the raised letter of the covers and all at once she can feel his lips against her ear. His teasing her into a reaction while commenting on her reading material.

"I wish the ones I heard as a child were collected somewhere."

"Ah, but they lose magic that way, don't they?" He breathes in her ear. "Some in the telling, but far more when we commit them to the page."

"Stupid, foolish," she mutters to herself, to his ghost, feeling rage and sorrow rise up in her. He had never lied to her, but there were so many stories he had never told. If he had, maybe they could have avoided all of it. If he had stopped to consider that maybe they–sundered beings though they were–could understand loss and hard choices and sacrifice. 

She is so sick of people not telling her things. 

She is so sick of people she loves dying for others to live on. What if there had been a way? To save them all without killing a man she loved?

Nerys puts the book away as her lips and chin start shaking. The dam in her breaks and she can do nothing about it. Not when her body recognizes you are alone and it is quiet and no one is here and you need to break down.

So she breaks down.

Somehow she manages to get to a table and chair, muffling her sobs in her hands. Struggling to keep quiet when she wants to scream and howl. The attendant is far enough away but she takes no chances.

Whatever strength is left in her is gone. Whatever joy she found in the last hours is gone. Just like Ardbert and just like…

She reaches the post-sobbing stage of crying, to where tears run down her face and she sniffles but the worst has passed. Nerys wipes at her eyes with her sleeves. There are no tissues here, she will have to leave or just sniffle for a long time.

Someone walks down the stairs. 

Nerys uncurls herself, scrubbing roughly at her cheeks. It won't fool anyone. Maybe they won’t mention it. She turns in the chair.

Y'shtola reaches the floor and walks towards her. In each hand she carries a large mug with steam wafting from it. 

"We're not supposed to have food or drink in here," Nerys croaks.

"Will you tell Moren?" Y'shtola asks, a bemused expression on her pretty face.

"Not if you don't." Nerys accepts her cup, cradling it in her hands. It's red tea with the perfect amount of cream added to it. When she sips, she finds it's also the strength and sweetness she prefers. 

She would choose black tea over red most times but it is late and she shouldn't have something that will keep her up.

"It's perfect," she says. "Ah...will you sit?"

Y'shtola nods and takes the other chair at the table. A long silence stretches over them as Nerys watches the steam rise. It isn't uncomfortable and they might both be happy to sit in quiet like that the rest of the evening.

But there is a hint of expectation. Y’shtola would like to know what has Nerys so distraught, if she doesn't already.

"I…" Nerys swallows. "It could have been different. It should have been different."

Y'shtola raises her cup to her lips, sampling her own tea before setting it down. "What would you have done differently?"

"I didn't know then what I know now. Or could have guessed but–there must have been a moment I could have reached him. Some way I missed."

Y'shtola's voice is soft. "He could have also chosen differently. I wish he had."

Nerys looks up at that. There is a gentle sadness in Y'shtola's expression. She is not one for regrets, making it all the more jarring. 

"You do?"

"I do not excuse a single thing he did. Nor, do I think do you."

"If he lived, it wouldn't be a matter of 'all is forgiven'," says Nerys. Just as it hasn't been for Yotsuyu or Fordola. And the scale of their crimes are far different compared to Emet’s. There are many who will never forgive them and they are allowed to do so.

Just as...if he had lived; she would not have demanded any of her comrades or allies forgive him. 

"But he might have made some amends. And he might have come to terms with the fact that our cause was as just as his, even if we are sundered." Y'shtola shakes her head. "He liked us, truly. Perhaps we could have changed his mind."

And Nerys, broken down and tired and her guards gone, says it out loud. "I think I was falling in love with him."

And Y'shtola reaches out and clasps her hand. Her fingers are warm and strong and Nerys hasn’t held them since the night they almost lost her in Rhalgr’s Reach. "I had a notion."

Nerys lets out a shaky, choked breath. "It was far too recent to have done anything. Not that...even if it had started when we first met, who was I in the grand scheme of his life? Even if I was someone he knew once before the sundering… I am not them now. None of us are."

She hasn't told them any of Emet's insinuations from the Ladder, what Hythlodaeus said, Emet's shock when Ardbert joined with her.

But Y'shtola doesn't need that to understand. "Mortals and immortals alike find reasons to control others. None of them are valid in my mind."

"No, no you're right. I...guess I am indulging a little much in pity right now."

"You can indulge tonight. I keep thinking similar things about our friend." Y'shtola squeezes her fingers. "In another lifetime, he could have been so much more to us."

Nerys looks at her and feels like she could say anything. Confess anything. Y'shtola's presence gives her strength she thought she had spent. It always has. No wonder Nerys is in love with her.

She could actually tell her that now, in this sacred space of trust and honesty. And how farcical, that now when she thinks she could actually say it, could brave the possibility of Y'shtola turning her down-

-it is not the right time. Y'shtola deserves a confession not tied to grief or other people. She deserves for a time wholly dedicated to her. Even if the response is "thank you but I don't feel the same," Y’shtola deserves that care and kindness as her friend and as the person she is.

It is the type of dramatic irony so present in the comedic plays Emperor Solus commissioned during his reign. All they need are siblings in disguise and a throughline on the fluidity of gender and attraction to make it a true Solus Comedy.

Instead, she says "Y'shtola...will you stay with me a while? We can talk about anything at all, I just...would like your company."

Y'shtola smiles. "I picked the large mugs for a reason."

#seaswolchallenge #nerys eluned #emet-selch x wol #y'shtola x wol #y'shtola rhul #shadowbringers spoilers #ally writes

[ecosystem-administrator]

Devil's Advocate

Timeline: Post-5.3

Mayhem is pretty good at justifications.

"Mayhem, is it really true that you can find a way to justify anyone's actions?" Alisaie demanded one evening in the Rising Stones.

They shrugged. "Well, try me, then. Anyone you think absolutely can't be understood?"

"How about Yotsuyu?" Alisaie suggested. "We both saw what she did, there's no way you can say she was acting reasonably."

"Yotsuyu had been abused and abandoned by not just her own parents, but the entire culture of her people, who would rather turn aside and preserve their peace than admit that something might be wrong in their community," Mayhem pointed out evenly. "As a Gridanian, I know a bit about that myself, and who can truly claim that there is no point at which they would relish watching those who had caused or enabled such torment suffer it themselves?"

Alisaie recoiled, brow furrowing, and while she struggled to formulate a response, Tataru piped up, curious. "What about Ilberd? The one who caused all that mess that sent us to Ishgard, and then went and started a war all by himself?"

"I mean, he wasn't wrong about the pace of progress toward Ala Mhigo's liberation, you know," Mayhem shrugged. "It must have been hard, watching their best advocate seem to fall away from the cause, entangled in strangers' problems. He was a man who had a goal, and he was willing to make a lot of sacrifices to reach it, including his own life in the end."

"The Monetarist faction that enabled him, then," Y'shtola offered with a curious tilt of her head.

"Can't make any sort of difference in the world if their coffers are empty." A tight smile. "And much of their actual wealth is in investments and assets that they simply manage; it would be irresponsible not to seek the maximum profit from any situation."

"Ran'jit," suggested Thancred into the pause that fell afterward, raising an eyebrow at Mayhem.

"An old soldier who wanted to keep more little girls from dying to a pointless fight," Mayhem concluded, "and you don't get any more if you're going to ask questions like that, I'm not going to be party to your self-destructive tendencies."

While Thancred sputtered and Urianger hid a smile, Alphinaud tilted his head and met Mayhem's eyes. "Zenos yae Galvus," he pronounced.

This at last gave Mayhem pause, silver gaze unfocused as gears turned in their head. "A beast who seeks to be chased and eaten," they finally answered, speaking slowly as the words came together. "He only feels alive when he's fighting for his life, so he chases and taunts opponents that he hopes will have a chance at backing him into a wall. He doesn't care about killing, except as a way to motivate people to fight harder."

"How can you bear to do that?" Apparently Alisaie had finally recovered her voice. "How can you sit here and spout these...these polite lies, when you know what they lead to?!"

"I have to know what they are if I'm going to see through them." Mayhem frowned, shook their head. "...Everyone remembers the fights I've won, but everything I've ever lost was because there was something I didn't understand about my opponent. I got complacent with the Crystal Braves because I was being pulled in so many directions, I underestimated Archbishop Thordan, I still can't really predict what Zenos will pull next and that terrifies me. But the closer I can get to my enemy's way of thinking, the more I can understand what the world looks like from behind their eyes, the better chance I have of getting ahead of them."

"And of talking them down?" Alphinaud added quietly.

Mayhem looked sheepish. "...It's hardly worked on anyone yet, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stop trying. I didn't turn Gaius around myself, but he still works as a proof-of-concept. If there comes a day when I can get powerful people who see problems in the world to choose solutions that aren't horrible, I'll call that a win."

#ffxivwrite2021 #Mayhem #alisaie leveilleur #alphinaud leveilleur #y'shtola rhul #thancred waters #tataru taru #I had a busy weekend so I'm doing Saturday's prompt on Sunday's make-up

[enavance]

hi i’m here to once again start a discussion / meta about a song that i relate to cherry.  on this episode,  we’re pulling apart falling in reverse’s popular monster.  some of the lyrics are hit or miss because you know obviously this is based on ronnie’s own experiences,  but some of the lyrics are really suited to cherry and i’ll bold the relevant lines as i go or omit things as needed.

also holy shit this is like over 1600 words,  not including the lyrics of course,  and  . . .  congratulations if u read this jkbdfbkvd

i wake up every morning with my head up in a daze i'm not sure if i should say this,  fuck,  i'll say it anyway everybody tries to tell me that i'm goin' through a phase i don't know if it's a phase,  i just wanna feel okay, yeah i battle with depression,  but the question still remains is this post-traumatic stressin' or am i suppressin' rage? and my doctor tries to tell me that i'm going through a phase yeah, it's not a fuckin' phase, i just wanna feel okay

okay,  yeah,  i struggle with this bullshit every day and it's probably 'cause my demons simultaneously rage it obliterates me,  disintegrates me,  annihilates me

cherry has always been hot  -  tempered since she was younger,  but now as she’s grown and grown into her role as the warrior of light and coupled with all of the things she has endured from the beginning of her journey to where she is now.  she lived a relatively peaceful life until imperial garlean forces invaded her village and uprooted her life and destroyed everything she once knew and forced her to make anew.  cherry struggles with severe depression and ptsd,  and much of that contributes to her trauma response and why she’s so quick to lash out in a form of a defense mechanism.

'cause i'm about to break down i'm searchin' for a way out i'm a liar,  i'm a cheater,  i'm a non-believer i'm a popular,  popular monster i break down falling into love now with falling apart i'm a popular,  popular monster

with everything cherry goes through,  it’s a wonder she hasn’t snapped completely yet,  but she has come so,  so,  so close so many times.  she is self  -  destructive in her coping methods,  whether intentionally or not.  sometimes she realizes and notices her harmful coping methods,  sometimes she doesn’t,  but her mindset is that if she’s not hurting anyone else,  it’s fine.

however,  what she doesn’t realize is that her distance and cold shouldering and keeping people at arms length is hurtful because people are just trying to be there for her,  but she won’t allow them to due to her debilitating fear of allowing anyone to come near her,  physically or emotionally,  and risk them forming an attachment to her and vice versa.

she doesn’t want someone to feel hurt or pain in losing her and having to mourn her.  cherry is a serial escapist in that she will disappear for months at a time and wander off looking for the most dangerous jobs,  not only because she needs the money and thrives off of the adrenaline and that she has an inherently reckless nature,  but it’s that deep  -  rooted self  -  destructiveness.

i think i'm going nowhere like a rat trapped in a maze every wall that i knock down is just a wall that i'll replace i'm in a race against myself,  i try to keep a steady pace how the fuck will i escape if i never close my case? oh my god,  i keep on stressin',  every second that i waste is another second sooner to a blessing i won't take

cherry doesn’t see herself as a hero.  to a degree,  she understands that it’s not her choice whether or not she is seen as a hero.  other people will call her one regardless based on her accomplishments and achievements and decorated contributions to the preservation of eorzea and the shard as a whole.  as vain as she is,  and as much as she boasts of her strength as a warrior,  which she takes quite a bit of pride in,  she’s surprisingly somewhat humble when it comes to being seen as a hero that people look to for light in the darkness and idolize.  she just sees nothing special in it because of how many people still die,  how many things are still lost and destroyed.  her own pessimism stops her from feeling positively towards any association with being a hero.  she doesn’t want to be celebrated or praised,  but she won’t be mad if someone compliments her skills and says she’s strong.

cherry is an extremely guarded person and this is something i discuss at length with her keeping extremely tall and thick walls up to protect herself and the people around her due to her life experiences and the trauma she has been through from before ARR to where she is now post  -  SHB.  she’s afraid of letting anyone in.  she’s afraid of caring about people,  despite the fact that she does because deep down she is caring and kind and soft and she just can’t help herself.  she tries to convince herself that she’s not as close to some people as she thinks,  but she is and it would kill her to lose anyone else.  and deep down,  cherry knows that it’s much the same for her friends as well,  that it’s too late,  that they do care about her and someone will be there to mourn and grieve her and she hates that.  this is why she flinches at softness,  any soft gesture or touch or kindness,  even more so when it comes to romantic avenues.  she will run and run and run until she’s sure you’ve given up on pursuing her.  much of this is also tied into the fact that caring about someone is a weakness to a fault because an enemy can sniff that out and use that against her.  they could take someone that she cares about and use them as leverage or kill them or hurt them to get to her and she is so deeply afraid of that most of all.

cherry refuses help constantly.  she shoulders everything and is the first to volunteer to do anything dangerous.  she makes her own recklessly stupid and dangerous plans and rushes in headfirst without much thought.  she is stubborn and will insist on doing everything herself,  even the most menial tasks.  she doesn’t want to look weak,  not that she is or that anyone even thinks that of her,  but she doesn’t want it to appear to anyone that she has any weaknesses because she doesn’t want them to be turned against her.  she refuses help that would otherwise be blessings to make her life easier.

okay,  motherfucker,  now you got my attention i need to change a couple things 'cause somethin' is missing and what if i were to lie?  tell you everything is fine every single fucking day i get closer to the grave i am terrified,  i fell asleep at the wheel again crashed my car just to feel again it obliterates me,  disintegrates me,  annihilates me

cherry is as honest as they come.  perhaps too honest,  sometimes.  however,  when it comes to her own wellbeing,  she will lie to fool others into thinking that she’s fine so that they don’t worry about her.  she doesn’t want to be worried or fussed over,  and most of all,  she doesn’t want to add to anyone else’s stress or make them waste their time with her.  cherry doesn’t take very good care of herself,  physically or emotionally or mentally.  she barrels into danger without thought,  is impulsive,  extremely reckless,  and she doesn’t talk about her feelings to anyone or discuss the traumatic events that happened to her with anyone.  i think the only people she may have opened up to are haurchefant,  maybe thancred on occasion,  ardbert because she’s fine talking to him because her logic is  “  who is he going to tell  ?  no one else can see him,  ”  maybe aymeric but never wholly in detail,  and maybe estinien.  cherry is terrified of opening up to people.  she doesn’t care if people see her as being awful or anything,  but she’s afraid of being seen as vulnerable and having all of those parts of her open and raw.

she’s not actively suicidal or anything or ever thinking about dying.  in fact,  she’s deathly afraid of dying because of the people who care about her and because the fate of the world rests on her shoulders.  she doesn’t want anyone to ever feel the pain she did losing her loved ones.  she doesn’t want them to mourn her.  she doesn’t want to risk the dying of this star just because there’s so much at stake and so many people and the world depending on her success and her being alive.

still,  despite that,  despite knowing that and that being an enormous fear of hers,  that doesn’t stop her from being reckless.  she is extremely self  -  destructive and impulsive and doesn’t think too much,  if at all,  before committing to something,  even if it’s an extremely bad idea.  she does do harmful and self  -  destructive things just to feel things,  hence her being somewhat of an adrenaline addict and chasing danger and diving headfirst into fights or battles and facing off with dangerous people,  even if outnumbered.  she revels in danger and the feeling of adrenaline rushes and actively being battered and bruised in a fight.  she probably would crash a car,  honestly,  just to feel something that is beyond the despondence and depression that she’s come to know post  -  shb.

yeah,  here we go again,  motherfucker,  oh we're sick and tired of wondering praying to a god that you don't believe you're searching for the truth in the lost and found so the question i ask is,  yeah,  where the fuck is your god now? 

and by the end of shb,  knowing the things that she knows of hydaelyn and zodiark,  she’s extremely jaded and even more pessimistic than she was to begin with.  in the beginning,  she didn’t know what she was coming into,  when joining the fray with the scions and learning of her own abilities with the echo and hydaelyn’s will and her involvement.  as time passes and hydaelyn’s absence becomes more noticeable,  she begins to feel abandoned,  and she wonders if hydaelyn is simply content to allow the shard to die and with it,  its people. 

even upon learning of the mother crystal’s weakness in strength,  learning the truth of everything,  the forming of the worlds and hydaelyn and zodiark being primals,  she begins to heavily distrust hydaelyn and wonders if everything had been a lie.  what else had hydaelyn hidden from her  ?  what else was a lie  ?  cherry has never been religious,  not really,  and she wonders if the gods are really out there.  hydaelyn certainly isn’t the god they all thought she was     —     she is a primal.  they have placed their faith and worship in a primal who disappeared and left them in darkness and silence.

cherry is left in a pretty fragile state come the end of shb.  she has lost so much more,  and she feels as though she managed to accomplish nothing despite everything that she has had a hand in doing.  there is always something else,  always something more,  and she feels as though it’s never going to end and she is exhausted.  she will never tire of helping people,  not truly,  but she feels such an emptiness within her and i really think that losing anyone else important to her,  specifically people like thancred,  the twins,  estinien,  aymeric,  she is really going to spiral harder than ever before and i really don’t know how cherry would come out of it in one piece.

#hc. #long post - #uh ask to tag ? #self harm - #kind of ???? #suicide mention - #just in case #shb spoilers - #u get 500 cookies if u manage to read through this kdjfbvd #i didnt mean for this to be this long but like idk! #this song really speaks to me about cherry #this is actually quite an important hc djkbfvfd #i'll post her playlist someday if i ever finish it #not that it'll ever be finish #it'll always be a continuous wip but u know

[starswornoaths]

A Little Fall of Rain - Commission!

A commission for the always lovely @anorptron, featuring an equally lovely Sage! Thank you so much for your support! \o/

Commission info!

cw: mentions of injury, mentions of death

5.0 spoilers ahead! Emet/WoL

After the sin eater attack on Lakeland, the Scions are at an all time low. Their morale is shattered, the high of their emotional and personal victories stolen from them by Vauthry’s cruelty.

And Emet-Selch should have been happy about that, so why wasn’t he?

After raising up and guiding both the Allag and Garlean Empires with his own hands, after dedicating multiple lifetimes to serving as both the Architect that built such civilizations to soaring heights, and the Harbinger of their downfall, Emet-Selch was more than aware of the delicate balance one had to strike between benevolence and wrath. When the time was right to be gentle and nurturing to a fledgling civilization, and when to bring his might as a sorcerer of eld to bear in order to tear it down at its zenith. 

Despite being one of his more resounding successes in sowing those seeds of chaos, Vauthry had no such natural affinity for wielding his authoritarian power with any semblance of grace or dexterity. Even in victory, Vauthry couldn’t help but act as a gloating child, jeering from an overhead loud speaker attached to his personal airship. 

It didn’t even matter that they were on the same side, technically: the sound of it alone was enough to grate on Emet-Selch’s patience. 

Vauthry’s bellowing, made tinny through the speaker he was projected through, rang sharply in his ears even now, after those gaudy Eulmoran airships had long since taken off for brighter skies. Even with the heaviness of the rainfall that had happened during the battle, and the fat droplets that yet stubbornly continued to fall in the ensuing stillness, were nowhere near as weighty as the defeat they suffered, nor the weight of the insult that Vauthry heaped upon them, on top of it all.

Emet-Selch should be happy. He should be pleased with the progress that his plans have made, now that the final pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into place. He should have taken this victory and rode its high as long as he could and just basked in it. The sin eaters besieging the already beleaguered people of the Crystarium— at the height of their hope, no less! — should have been the definitive moment of triumph that he had always thought it would be, his just reward for having played his part so perfectly.

So why did it all ring so hollow?

The wounded and dying soldiers, battered in both body and pride, barely paid him notice as he drifted about Fort Jobb as a wraith: silent, looming, practically gliding around the writhing and the eerily still alike. It was hardly a new experience, all but floating among the dead and the dying, and he paid it no mind.

“The tragedy that has befallen you is of your own making. Divine retribution for your defiance.” He distinctly recalled Vauthry taunting.

Cruel for both the callousness of the words and the lack of truth to them; those who dwelled on the First were hardly responsible for the circumstances that led them to this point— in particular when it was the Ancients that guided them to their fate, even before the Ancients themselves fully understood how they had arbitrated over their now fractured world.

They weren’t even people, these frail, fading fragments. It wasn’t their fault they couldn’t stand up to destiny. Not even the Ancients could, once.

They weren’t his concern, besides. Hawkish gold eyes scanned the crumpled forms in search of someone familiar. In search of one soul in particular, though if any of those other miscreants were scuttling about, they would do: they would all lead him back to Sage.

It was ultimately the mistrustful gunblade wielder that Emet-Selch found first. Just as well; judging by the purposeful strides he was taking, he was going somewhere in a hurry. Keen on tracking down the Warrior of Light amid the aftermath of such a struggle but not wanting to have to subject himself to this particular buffoon’s empty words and threats, the Ascian hung back and observed from the shadows, as he did best.

A ponderous frown marred his face when he realized that Thancred was not, in fact, approaching the Warrior of Light, but instead speaking with one of the less wounded Crystarium guards. What benefit of the doubt he might have been inclined to give the Scion was promptly dashed when he then moved on to checking in on that discarded little shard of Hydaelyn’s voice— she had a new name, he vaguely recalled with disinterest. With a huff of frustration, he moved on to the next Scion.

That sorceress provided more promising results, for a blessing, as she did not tarry in tracking Sage down— but then, she’d admittedly not had to look far, as he was helping one of the wounded to her for healing just as she had begun her search for him. Feeling charitable— or perhaps, pitying them when they were at their lowest, Emet-Selch silently decided that this would make them even for him ripping her out of the lifestream. 

Sage himself was unsurprisingly nondescript as he helped that granddaughter of the Exarch’s into one of the cots that had been haphazardly set up for triage of the battered battalion.

Y’Shtola clicked her tongue in admonishment, even as she helped ease Captain Lyna down with him. The moment Lyna was settled, Sage withdrew and awkwardly straightened— awkwardly, because of the way it seemed like he couldn’t quite straighten himself to his full height. As if he were too injured to do so.

“Get yourself situated in one of the empty cots, Sage. I’ll be with you as soon as—”

“I’m not wounded.” Sage lied, hands attempting to be subtle as they cradled his side.

“Sage. I’m not completely blind. Nor a fool besides.” Y’Shtola pursed her lips, displeased, even as she had already begun to examine Lyna more meticulously. “You need tending to.”

The Raen’s face crinkled in an almost endearing way. “It’s nothing that can’t wait.” He insisted, unmoving and uncompromising as ever.

After a moment of scrutiny from the corner of her eye, Y’Shtola’s shoulders slumped, ever so slightly, as if in defeat.

“I will not beg you to lean on me, Sage. If you say you are well enough, so be it.”

Even Sage seemed surprised at her words, gaze flitting to the other Scions scattered about the triage center. The young boy twin in the blue coat, he seemed the most fretful, even as he continued to weave healing magicks on a soldier lying on the cot before him, with the assistance of his carbuncle. His sister winced as she looked away. That card flinging fae lover was nowhere to be found. If Emet-Selch had cared to guess beyond his indignation, he might have conceded that the man was simply using his healing magic elsewhere. The gunblade wielder sat on one of the cots, under the watchful eye of that little Oracle girl, both of them strangely silent.

When it was clear no one was going to truly argue with him, Sage took his leave and scurried off with a relieved expression on his face. Curiously, the Scions only looked all the more troubled for his leaving, even as they made no move to go to him.

He said nothing, and for a moment longer, observed from a distance. It was a curiosity, wanting to know how the Scions took Sage so obviously wounded and limping off, even as he felt a low roiling anger in the depths of his belly at how none of them even spared him a second glance as he left. 

“I can’t heal stubbornness.” Y’Shtola all but growled, as if to herself, her focus on the injured Captain.

It surprised him to hear that frustration in her voice almost as much as her dismissal of Sage had been to begin with. 

“Sage doesn’t like relying on us, you know that.” Thancred spoke, his voice oddly soft for how brusque the man had been in all the time Emet-Selch had known him.

They must not have realized he was standing there yet, still so caught up in attending to the wounded and shoring up what tattered defenses they had.

“But we are not leaving him to suffer.” Alphinaud piped up firmly, even as he didn’t look away from his task. “Once we’ve tended to the more immediate cases, he is getting healed.”

“As if that were in doubt.” Alisaie snorted, almost indignant.

Emet-Selch’s frown deepened. They might have thought that was truly good enough, but the thought of Sage being left in obvious agony for any length of time, even for reasons like this, sat poorly with him. Even disregarding what physical wounds he had, it was clear that Sage was already in obvious agony from the light that he had already absorbed.

And his task was not yet done! None of them were! Even as wounded and bleached out beyond all recognition as Sage was, those who purported themselves to be his dearest friends would leave him languish because he’s stubborn? Unacceptable.

“Let this be a lesson to all those who would walk the path of sin— the wicked shall not inherit this world!” Vauthry’s words again echoed in his mind. On that one point, they both agreed.

The writing was on the wall: things were looking grim for the Warrior of Darkness and his cohorts. If there was ever a moment for him to determine that Sage’s cause was unworthy, his abilities lacking, it would, sensibly, be here. 

And Emet-Selch should have been happy about it, Zodiark take him. This should have been a moment to gloat.

If the Scions had at all noticed him at any point before, during, or after that, he didn’t stick around long enough to find out for himself. He had already melted into the dark, already uninterested in their petty meandering and their simpering, hand wringing uncertainty . Now that he knew where Sage was, and understood that he would not be able to well and truly enjoy this victory without knowing that his enemy was alright, there was nothing else for him to do but try to make sure Sage was hale and whole.

A complication in his plan, the Warrior of Light. Emet-Selch wasn’t supposed to care.

That fact didn’t stop him from easily catching up to Sage, didn’t stop him from emerging into the moonlight and making the effort to appear as though his arrival was entirely coincidental— or at least, antagonistic.

He had a reputation to uphold, after all.

“Well, well. What do we have here?” He purred as though he happened upon Sage by complete accident.

The Raen met his gaze evenly; it would seem that there was no patience between either of them for ruses and games. Just this once, given the circumstances, Emet-Selch couldn’t find it in him to be bothered by Sage’s stoicism. It shocked them both when he reached for the Bard and caught his chin in his hand. Even as his own actions startled him, Emet-Selch refused to show it, tipping his own chin up to pointedly stare down his nose at the Warrior of Light.

“You can’t just flit to and fro with such injuries.” He clucked his tongue in admonishment, and he felt his nose wrinkle in displeasure of its own accord when Sage winced.

“...Yeah.” Sage agreed quietly. “Didn’t want to worry them, but...I’ve been better.”

That admission was enough to shock Emet-Selch down to his bones. Sage couldn’t say that to the Scions, but he could admit it to his enemy? For what? To what end? He scrambled to make sense of it— what angle was Sage trying to play, what advantage—

Sage flinched again when he tried to move, and practically bit his tongue when he jolted out of Emet-Selch’s grip to curl into himself, as if to try and shield his body from the pain. It was such a reactionary, in-the-moment movement that it would have been almost impossible to fake. 

He wouldn’t anyway, the thought occurred to him, even as he did not want it to.

Something akin to understanding, bone deep and centuries old, awakened in his chest when realization settled over him: like himself, Sage felt more comfortable being weak with someone who was an active threat to him than let himself be vulnerable in the company of his comrades. 

After a long moment where neither of them dared to move, Sage deflated around a sigh, and stole the breath from the Architect’s lungs altogether when he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against the shoulder padding of his coat.

The contact made him seize up bodily in spite of himself. The two of them had always, always had distance between them, physically. It had been a safety precaution— on both their parts, he imagined— and it had been preferred. To have that line crossed, not with violence but with vulnerability, was a situation that he had never thought would come to pass. Most of all, because he never believed either of them would ever allow for such vulnerability to exist in the first place.

Most worrying of all, in particular for him, was that he was not repulsed by this new nearness, but instead bent his head down and curled, ever so slightly, into that horrifying new lack of space between them.

“...Sage?” Emet-Selch called his name quietly. He wasn’t sure whether he should be upset or not that his name felt natural to say, despite having never said it once before as anything but a curse, what few times he had said it at all.

He wasn’t even sure how that name felt on his tongue, when not wielded as a weapon to be brandished at the hero.

“Sorry.” The Bard mumbled, and swayed dangerously on his feet. “...Sorry—”

At the buckle of Sage’s knees, Emet-Selch’s arms were wrapped around him to keep him from collapsing onto himself in a heap, and though the motion made the Warrior of Light gasp in pain and clutch and claw at the back of the Ascian’s coat, Emet-Selch remained gentle, shushing him as he carefully knelt with Sage in his arms.

Every tender feeling he had buried since he had lost his first Imperial son rose to the surface, burning the otherwise numb and bitter bones of him. Even as he winced at the way it made the hollow of his chest ache, he held on just as tenderly to Sage, with no less care. In that moment, something inexplicable and undefinable had gripped his very soul, and something about the predicament they now found themselves in made Emet-Selch feel as though all he had in the world who might understand him was the man in his arms.

“Stubborn fool, playing at normalcy while you’re falling apart,” said the Architect, fond even in his insults. His voice was strangely thick with emotions he couldn’t name and daren’t examine. “What ever am I to do with you?”

Any response that Sage might have given him was cut off when he choked back a noise of pain again. He shifted, just barely, in Emet-Selch’s arms to ease the pressure off of his wounds, inadvertently pressing himself deeper in his enemy’s arms.

“Need to be strong for them.” Sage ground out, as if to chastise himself, through his clenched teeth. 

The words were half grumbled into the front of Emet-Selch’s coat, almost inaudible for what trickle of raindrops still pattered against their coats. Sage’s broad hands clutched at the back of his coat with such a desperation that he heard the thick cloth creak under the strain of his grip. He felt his heart squeeze in his throat. Even now, even beaten down so low, Sage would still wrestle with himself and rally every bit of strength he had in himself to fight. And for what? A group of ingrates that didn’t understand how much Sage mattered? Or if they saw, they did next to nothing to show it?

“No, you don’t.” He said darkly before he could stop himself. 

Sage looked up at him, but Emet-Selch was already overwhelmed, and avoided his gaze as he took a moment to swallow his heart. It still pressed hard against his throat when he spoke again, voice thick with everything he denied feeling.

“Do you not understand how tales work, hero?” He asked. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “I didn’t spend entire lifetimes as Emperors that built the arts just for story structure to be ignored.”

“This isn’t a fairytale, Emet-Selch.” Sage shook his head, still trying— and failing— to keep himself from grimacing. 

“Isn’t it?” He challenged. “Or have you already forgotten your role, hero? This is your low point. Your rock bottom before the triumphant rise. This is no time for you to hide your wounds away and act tough, or else you won’t be ready for the finale.”

The silence that Sage answered him with stretched on, marked only by the faint pitter patter of raindrops trickling down from the heavens again, inconsistent and faint as they were. It barely registered to the two men huddled around one another. Almost nothing else mattered but them in that moment.

At that point, there wasn’t much left to matter outside of them, for how thoroughly beaten down and all but decimated the Crystarium’s resistance was.

Sage looked up at him, and it was so, so hard to hold that piercing gaze when he was looking up at him so imploringly. Those eyes were too familiar for him to dismiss as a stranger’s gaze, but too different to let himself believe that he was fine with settling for this shard of his former friend. 

Too enchanting to pull away from.

“If you keep staring at me so, hero...I might think you are expecting something.” Emet-Selch managed around the lump in his throat. 

With the ongoing history of Sage flustering at such ribbing, he’d been all but praying to Zodiark that another such instance would be enough to snap the Warrior of Light out of such a state. Anything to bring back that tinge of strangeness with this new-old friend of his.

“A kiss, maybe.” 

Sage’s lips had barely wrapped around the last of his words before the look on his face told Emet-Selch all he needed to know: he had not meant to say that. The slack, shocked expression, the way his body tensed impossibly more, even through the agony and the injury, was enough for Emet-Selch to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that this was no ploy, no feint to try and catch his enemy on the back foot; in truth, Emet-Selch wasn’t even sure there was anything Sage could do in his condition, even if the doubt had been given any chance to take proper root in his mind.

Sage truly meant it. He wanted to kiss him. He might have laughed had he not been sent reeling by the revelation.

“And why would you want that, exactly? From me, no less?” He snorted before he could stop himself. When Sage tried to duck his head, Emet-Selch’s gloved hand shot out to hold his face there by the chin to force him to maintain their eye contact; if he couldn’t look away, then neither could Sage. “Ah, ah, ah, honesty is preferable among allies, is it not?”

“‘M no fool, Emet-Selch. I know this means all bets are off between us.” Sage ground out around another wince of pain. “Is it so awful to want a soft goodbye?”

Somehow, despite how adept he was at laying out blueprints for a plan aeons in advance, the thought hadn’t even occurred to the Architect, to end their alliance here. After one loss, even one as catastrophic as this? Even as Sage’s purported enemy, that struck him as grossly uncharitable, even were he to not account for the victories that had led the Scions here.

“Were you not listening, hero?” He sneered down his nose at the battered Bard. “I told you. This is your low point. Your rock bottom before the triumphant rise.”

When Sage opened his mouth— to retort, to gawk, it didn’t matter— Emet-Selch sealed it with his own.

Despite the man asking for it, Emet-Selch expected some level of resistance, some sort of tension, something to imply that Sage had some sort of misgiving. Something to tell him that this was wrong, that they were wrong for bridging that divide between enemies in search of something softer. 

There was no sign to be found, and its absence doomed them both.

Sage all but melted into him, those large hands of his moving in the scant space between them to clutch and claw at his robes, to pull him closer, as if breathing him in would be enough to mend the wounds and the light that have ravaged his body. His grip was so strong, Emet-Selch could hear the leather and the dense fabric of his coat creak between his fingertips. For a moment, it felt as though it were his heart that Sage was squeezing for the rush of endearment that hit him. It was enough for him to cup Sage’s face in his gloved hand, enough to inspire gentleness in him that he had long forgotten.

When had he last kissed someone, and so earnestly? His last wife, when he was the young Garlean Emperor, perhaps, but even then, his attachments to mortals were typically ephemeral, fleeting. He had made the mistake of loving the families he had helped to build, only for them to be lost to him all over again. As if Zodiark himself punished him for straying, for forgetting his first family, from an all but forgotten time when he didn’t know the fear of losing those he loved. 

Sage should have been no different. He should have been a passing curiosity, a flickering comet streaking across the night sky, momentary and easily forgotten. Not this...this aching, raw reminder of the person he used to be, even as every detail that did not match the friend he remembered was as a knife to his heart. 

There was a passing temptation, an itch, beneath Emet-Selch’s skin to rip his gloves off, to feel the Warrior of Light’s skin and scales beneath his fingertips— but that would require him letting go of Sage. The thought of it rankled something dark and possessive, awakened that long slumbering want to covet and keep. 

That wriggling want nestled itself beside that longstanding ache for the one that came before, the one that had shattered into so many fragments and scattered them among the stars. That this fragment was warm and familiar and solid was enough to stir Zodiark into pulling hard at the back of his mind— remember. Remember who you have lost. Remember who I can yet save.

Emet-Selch buried all of it— the whispers of his Lord, the almost-familiarity, the passing impulse, and his fingers, all in Sage’s hair when he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. It was hard to block out all of those warring thoughts, the thundering of his own heart, all of it, but the taste of Sage on his tongue made that struggle worthwhile.

In truth, it was harder for either of them to know where one ended and the other began anymore— or what any of this meant for them going forward. 

It startled him, how reluctant he was to pull away from Sage. By all rights, it should have been nothing but a performative gesture, a hollow token of false affection. It should have made him feel nothing. As it stood, it felt like he were drowning, it felt like he could not breathe for fear of letting even more of Sage into his very being, but he couldn’t help but gasp deeper between kisses. Intoxicated, he could only let Sage rest his weight bodily against him and hold him as tightly as he dared for Sage’s injuries.

With some paltry space between them, Emet-Selch thought, however foolishly, however desperately, that he might regain some of his good sense. But then Sage took longer than him to open his eyes, and oh, but that dreamy, dazed expression and the slow blink at him was almost enough to inspire further foolishness and kiss him again. He was fearful that he would never stop, and they would never get anywhere.

The expression on Sage’s face made it plain that there was something he wanted to say, but a worrying pop from somewhere around his hanging ribs sent him flinching as far away as the circle of Emet-Selch’s arms allowed him with a gasp of pain. It was enough to remind Emet-Selch that he was in desperate need of care. Care that he had run from when it was offered— the sweet fool. Such a pitiful state didn’t suit him.

When Emet-Selch tutted in gentle admonishment, Sage stilled, and again, those eyes captivated him, even wide and gawking as they were. Even the facade of irritability couldn’t withstand such an earnest expression, and he gentled, the hand that had held Sage’s face close once more bridging the distance between them, molding to his cheek. Even as he couldn’t feel much through his glove, he smoothed his thumb back and forth across Sage’s cheekbone.

“Mark me, hero,” Emet-Selch said softly, in the most authoritative tone he could muster, even knowing that he couldn’t muster much in the wake of the tumultuous tides of his heart. “This maudlin pall ill suits you. This is not the end— not of your struggles, and thus, not of our truce.” 

Sage’s expression twisted into one of pain again— emotional and physical both— and a part of Emet-Selch hated that he had to put such a weighty mantle on his shoulders again. Even on opposing sides of the conflict, it was undeniable that the both of them were the Scions of their people. The last bastion of hope and love and grief, meant to stem the tide of the other. 

Despite the inevitability of their fate, Sage was brilliant enough to make Emet-Selch dare to hope, even through the tempering and his own resignation at their destined clash.

And the Warrior of Light needed that hope to be rekindled in him, to spur him to go on, Emet-Selch realized, and made a point to look down his nose at Sage as he gripped his chin to force his gaze to stay on him.

“If you’re so desperate to beg your enemy for a kiss, then let me promise you another, when you can show me the night sky in Kholusia.”

Sage’s eyes widened impossibly further. His mouth opened to try and speak, but even through feeling the muscle of his jaw as he tried to work out what words to say, Emet-Selch didn’t let go of his chin.

“Sage!” Another voice called out breathlessly, shattering whatever spell they had cast on one another.

It was enough to get Sage to wrench his head free of Emet-Selch’s grasp. He snapped his focus to his approaching comrade— the astrologian one, for the life of him, Emet-Selch couldn’t find it in him to care enough to remember his name.

“Urianger—” Sage gasped.

Ahh, that had been his name, then. Or perhaps a choked back sneeze. Emet-Selch didn’t particularly care one way or the other in that moment.

Though a part of Emet-Selch was relieved to have the trance they had fallen into broken, it still startled him how much of himself was so reluctant to extricate himself from Sage; he had thought that the moment he remembered himself, it would be repulsed by his own behavior, his own fondness— weakness— for Sage, but even in that moment as he saw the elezen approach, he could only mourn the end of this moment for what it was.

Still, it wouldn’t do to let that weakness be visible— as the Ascian Architect, Emet-Selch had a reputation to uphold, after all. Though he, too, had turned his head in the direction of the approaching Scion, he glanced back at Sage, still loosely in his grip, from the corner of his eye. Half out of habit, and half out of fondness, the corner of his lips curled into a grin on its own.

“Best get to it, then, hero.” He said. “I’m an impatient paramour. Tick tock.”

Sage couldn’t stop himself from tightening his hold on the front of Emet-Selch’s coat in a desperate bid to keep him there, even as he knew better than to hope that the Architect wouldn’t fade into the shadows, out of his reach.

Again.

All the same, he clung to that comforting, somehow familiar presence until it literally slipped through his fingers, wisps of smoke and shadow and not of this world. A grim reminder of their differences— and of what fate will have in store for them, should Sage fail to hold up his end of their agreement.

He opened his hand, staring down at his empty palm, and tried not to contemplate such grim thoughts. 

When Sage tried to stand on his own, he was reminded of the other wounds he bore that forced him to his knees in the first place. For a blessing, rather than having to brace for crashing back to earth after barely managing more than a crouch, it was Urianger’s arm looped through his arms, around his back, that kept him from that jarring impact.

“Be at ease— I have thee.” Urianger reassured, the arm not holding him upright as he straightened glimmering with starlight and gently laid over Sage’s chest. “Thou mayest seek the comfort of the Architect, as is thy prerogative, I wouldst only beg thee to not do so to escape relying on thy friends.”

“Uri—” Sage winced, tempted to avert his eyes.

“I beseech thee, hark to mine words: we art here for thou, as comrades and family alike. We always have been, even as we hath failed to support thee as we should have.”

Maybe it was Urianger’s healing magic, but even his words acted as a balm on Sage’s battered soul. Reluctant as he might be to believe it, he could only look at the evidence— and when he forced his head up at the sound of more approaching footsteps to see Y’Shtola, Alphinaud, and Thancred in tow, he couldn’t help but believe that they truly wanted to bridge that gap that had always been there, between them.

“Forgive our delay— we only waited so long as we did for the Crystarium healers to arrive.” Y’Shtola spoke, her voice much gentler than it had been when Sage left them at the triage tents. “Alisaie is preparing a bed for you with Chessamile as we speak. Come, let us help you.”

“No need for the fuss—” Sage tried to insist, when Thancred, swift as the wind itself, swooped in— quite literally— to lift Sage’s legs so he was suspended between himself and Urianger’s efforts.

“Sage, you might not open up to us as much as we might hope, but we’re not stupid. There is absolutely a need for the fuss. Now let us fuss.”

Alphinaud nodded in agreement, but his efforts were focused on joining his healing magic to Urianger’s. Even just the immediate relief of not feeling any of the pain from his wounds was enough to flood Sage’s every sense with contentment, though that feeling was immediately chased with the sheer exhaustion he hadn’t been able to feel through the pain and the stubbornness and his own aching heart, twisted and conflicted and longing as it was for a living shadow now beyond his reach.

“All will be well, Sage. Thou needs but have faith.” Urianger promised him, as he had done for Ryne before him.

As he faded off, rocked to sleep by the gentle swaying of Urianger’s and Thancred’s coordinated footfalls, Sage made a desperate wish: let me one day believe that, even as he had just enough faith to fall asleep in their company and know that he was safe and taken care of. Between the healing magic and the calm that swept through him, it was easy to drift away to slumber, even as he could feel the little pinpricks of raindrops tapping at his skin and scales.

He paid it no mind. What was a little fall of rain, after all?

#injury cw #death mention cw #ffxiv #writing commissions #anorptron #Sage Bradley #Emet-Selch #5.0 spoilers #shadowbringers spoilers #thank you again for the commission!!! #this was so fun to work on and your boy is such a joy to write! #poor sage ;m; plz let people love youuuuu.......

[efrmellifer]

Receptum

5.55, but with more Wymelliferel and Etien's thoughts

Etien stood in the Rising Stones, swaying from foot to foot (a habit she’d picked up in the months she’d been away from Scion duties), the Scions around her—both those new and old, dyed in the wool and relatively new to the movement.

Of their number, she stood closest to Estinien. But of course she did; to have done otherwise would have been the more peculiar choice.

Still, she was attentive as the Scions were invited to another meeting of the Alliance in Ala Mhigo. Not just the Alliance this time, apparently, since they had guests from the beast tribes. All of them. She hummed, only loud enough that Estinien heard it. And maybe Y’shtola, since her ear swiveled back toward Etien.

Ambitious, Etien murmured, not caring who heard her. Estinien chuckled.

She tapped the toes of her boots on the floor while Alphinaud accepted the invitation to the Alliance meeting, still rocking just a little until Estinien caught her by the elbows.

“You’re making me seasick,” he said, voice low so only she could hear him.

The Scions continued talking about who should go, and blah blah Thancred and Y’shtola because summoning,aye, all right.

Then Thancred turned to her. “I think we’ve alldone our part in that endeavor, don’t you, Etien?”

She froze completely, hands coming up to her chest as she nodded, eyebrows pulling together and pitching upward in the middle.

Urianger took the floor from her, stating—rather than asking—in fairly certain terms that he would be staying behind. For the defense, of course.

Then Estinien chimed in. “I’m not coming, either. Aymeric will be there, and I’d rather not be interrogated.”

Etien turned, breaking his hold on her arms easily. “Estinien, he’s just worried about you. We’veseen you more often than anyone else, especially current company, and even we worry.” She let a lock of his hair drift off her curled hand, the way one would release a puff of smoke.

He crossed his arms, obstinate. “Hmph. I will not let you persuade me.”

“Suit yourself, I’m just telling you that Aymeric isn’t trying to pin you down or breathe down your neck. He’s worried about you because he loves you. Because you’re a Scion now, and he knows—” She remembered who she was standing among, and shut her mouth.

Thancred carried on with saying those were staying, stay, and everyone else come along.

“Well, I’ll see you later then,” Etien mumbled, stepping away and towards the door into The Seventh Heaven.

Estinien clicked his tongue as she left, watching the ruffles of her skirt swishing.

“Hath trouble come to Paradise?” Urianger asked, sympathy in his tone and his posture. “Firmly didst thou hold her still, and harshly rebuke her expression of her and Aymeric’s love.”

“You stayed behind,” he replied. “Are you fighting with the other Scions?”

Urianger almost laughed. “Nay, but neither have I taken any for lovers.”

Estinien huffed again. “That is not the problem. They worry about me, I worry about them; their method of worrying is far more doting than mine is. It can be stifling.”

“Ah.” Urianger nodded. “Well, thou wilt see much more of her in the coming days, both as thy paramour and as thy comrade. ‘Twould behoove thee to make thy peace with how she may tend to and treat with thee on and off the battlefield.”

A soft groan from Estinien. “I suppose you have a point.”

***

Again, Etien was sat next to G’raha, but the two of them and Ishgard’s Lord Commander—or was he Lord Speaker for these meetings?—were all sat towards the middle of the table this time.

She sat, looking dazed and happy as he managed to rally the beast tribes, praising them and the component members of the Alliance representation for their strengths, uniting them under their shared purpose. And then, she perked, returning to a more active focus (it was plain in her eyes) as he drew them all metaphorically under the shared banner.

Etien blinked a few times as Aymeric met her eyes.

“I submit that the honor of naming it should go to the Scion whose brave efforts have done so much to unite Eorzea. What say you, my friend?”

She blushed, even inside her ears, then dipped her head to think. “I would call it The Grand Company of Eorzea,” she replied.

Alphinaud turned to her, shocked as he commented, “But that’s the name I…”

She just nodded while the other Alliance members voiced their approval, including the assorted beast tribes. When invited, she joined Alphinaud outside to talk.

Catching the tail end of the conversation, Aymeric sidled up to her before she left to speak with former Crystal Braves.

“It was astoundingly…generous of you to give the new Alliance Alphinaud’s name for it.”

She shrugged. “Well, for one thing, it was better than anything I was going to come up with on the spot, and for another,” she slipped her hand into his for emphasis, “I already got everything I wanted from that time in the Scions’ collective life. I figured I might as well pass it on to Alphinaud, so he could see his dreams come true.”

“You, too, see him as your younger brother then, I take it?”

Etien sighed, her grip loosening, but she didn’t let go of Aymeric’s hand. “Aye, I suppose I do, hmm? He and Alisaie--”

“Closed the gaping wound that came with leaving M’ertle and M’ynstrel,” he finished for her. “I understand. Well, conceptually. Unlike you and Estinien, I never had siblings I lost and found succor in the Leveilleur twins.” He chuckled. “When we say ‘the twins’ now, we shall have to distinguish between whether we meant the Leveilleurs or our own children.”

Etien’s eyes lit with mirth, but she didn’t quite laugh. “You’re right. Though ours look more distinct; only people aware of the details of their birth would know them to be twins.”

“Fraternal twins,” Aymeric pushed gently.

“Well, so are the Leveilleurs, unless there’s something I don’t know. But, it would be their story to tell, and none of my business unless they made it my business.”

“That is enough about the twins for now. Either set.” Aymeric’s voice had sunk closer to a whisper, so Etien looked up at him, listening attentively. “For all my oratory justification, I offered you the chance to name the new alliance so you could choose at least onething on thisgods-awful road you keep getting goaded along.”

“I appreciate the gesture,” she murmured in response, now looking away to hide some of her expression, letting go of his hand so she could fold hers in front of her. “I only regret that I had to do what I did.”

“Had to?”

“I cannot be selfish, or even self-interested. They won’t let me.” She lifted her chin. He knew that motion.

“Please do not cry, my dearest. I could not bear to see it, not after… after everything,” he added, his tone similar in her ear to how it had sounded years ago, when he’d told Estinien that without Alphinaud, Estinien would be dead.

He took her into his arms. “I do not mean… you are free to cry. If not to me, then to whom?” He stroked her hair. “My heart will ache with every tear that falls, but I am your shield, and you are safe with me to express what you must, however you must.”

But she just sniffled. “You’re right. I have to be strong.”

Alphinaud called to her, and she lifted her head from where it rested under Aymeric’s breastbone.

He rested his fingers along her chin, even as she turned her head to look toward the sound of her name. “Go, Etien,” he instructed her softly. “You only need to be strong for a bit longer.”

***

Etien’s mind wandered as she rode her griffin (Nyx was currently resting at the Holy Stables after some medical procedures, well cared for by House Fortemps, as she always had been) through the bluffs of Gyr Abania.

She knew Alphinaud was going to travel the whole way by aether, and he’d be waiting for her, tapping his toe against the stones at Castrum Oriens, but having to slow down a little as he waited for her to fly from Porta Praetoria wasn’t going to kill him. Plus, these griffins were ungodly fast; she was halfway across the Fringes. She was practically there.

She waved, in case anyone in Castellum Velodyna could see her, and held tight for the last few moments of her flight.

She came to a landing by coasting over the top of the castrum’s gates and touching down before she and her mount smacked into the aetheryte, then wandered around looking for Alphinaud, pleasantly surprised by how lively the castrum still was—packages went in and out, training and patrols were still taking place, the whole nine yards.

She tried to pay attention as she asked Riol and Alianne for their thoughts on the Crystal Braves, but as soon as Ilberd came up, her mind began to wander again, wanting to think about anything else.

“One bad apple” made her think of the apples that occasionally grew outside the Gates of Judgment, and then the sweet, crisp apples of Il Mheg. Oh, she missed Feo Ul.The pixie had made their way through Ishgard and tapped on the window of the house soon after the kits were born, eager to see the less-than-literal fruits of their sapling.

They’d tipped their head this way and that and cooed about how cute the twins were, assessing them as they admired. According to them, Landric looked like he would have an affinity for magic, and they traced the curve of Betula’s cheek, then laid their hand upon it the way they did to Etien so often. “A hardy shrub of a girl you have here. A pretty, sturdy little Lacecap.”

They fluttered away from the cradles then, sitting on Etien’s shoulder. “I expect the others will be envious that I have a new set of twins to play with, when these two get bigger. Everyone in Il Mheg misses Alisaie and Alphinaud.”

“Aww,” Etien murmured. “I wish the rift weren’t quite so much of a yawning chasm,” she added, “so they could all come with you.”

“But they can all enjoy it by proxy with their king’s stories. And I imagine they may be itching for one now.” They took off from their seated position, wings flapping hard at first, but slowing as they evened out in the air (and didn’t have to worry about taking Etien’s hair with them). “Take care, Etien, until my next visit.”

She nodded, with a cheery “you too!” and waving as they made their usual wide loop and disappeared back home.

Etien snapped from her reverie when Riol’s voice grew more boisterous, laughing about how glory hunters were stopped before they could start in the Crystal Braves.

She blinked into the dappled sunshine, remembering she was technically on the job, and shook her head to clear it, ears bouncing. “Where to now?” she asked Alphinaud.

He ushered her towards Gridania with diplomatic concessions that they’d take up enough of Riol and Alianne’s time, and that the testimonies that Alisaie and G’raha had gathered were waiting for them. This time, she relented in the name of promptness and traveled to the woodland city on the currents of aether.

And it was just as well, because she would have been disappointed to dismount at the gate to the city only to have to recall her mount to ride to Little Solace. But she arrived in the East Shroud and paid her toll to the aetheryte tender, and walked the relatively short distance between the Hawthorne Hut and the home of the Sylphs.

Even Frixio acknowledged that they had just seen each other at the Alliance meeting, but Etien wasn’t completely humorless about the to-do list she’d been tackling since then, offering the customary dance of greeting with a little smile on her lips. Hells, she was almost disappointed Frixio said no.

But there were bigger fish to fry, like the abducted Sylphs to worry about, and—her ears swiveled backwards before anyone’s attention (other than G’raha’s, she figured) had been drawn to the rapid footsteps behind her.

Well, she supposed they had the Sharlayan envoy to worry about, too, now. As she watched Alphinaud and Alisaie converse about the envoy’s identity, her lips parted in surprise. Not just any representative of Sharlayan, then. Their father.

She swallowed, already imagining the worst possibilities that an unexpected visit could portend. Well, in some ways, this wasn’t unexpected, was it? And yet, her chest was getting tight with the dread.

She took a deep breath. This wasn’t even herfather, so she had no reason to be so negative and scared. It was going to be fine.

And so they all set off. As Etien thumbed out the right number of gil to the tenders, she sighed. It certainly would have cost lessfor her to ride from Gridania when she’d left, if she’d known she was going to be coming right back, with a shorter time limit this go around. Still, as she arrived at Nophica’s Altar and entered the Lotus Stand, admiring its beauty once again, she found it a little difficult to be upset about the monetary cost.

Not when she and the others were commended for their swift attendance, and certainly not when she had a bad feeling about this, this little meeting that still loomed in front of them. She’d have paid a much steeper price to have this feeling go away. It only grew as his boots sounded on the dirt path leading to where they all stood waiting.

She smiled as Fourchenault said that the twins’ mother would be pleased to hear of their condition and was well herself, glad that Alisaie and Alphinaud didn’t have one morething to worry about.

But it was after the pleasantries—including gratitude exchanged for all that Louisoix had done for Eorzea and received in hospitality from Eorzea—that the foul mood that Etien had already sensed came to the forefront, casting its shadow over the conversation.

As the twins made their arguments, Etien tried to remind Fourchenault of the axiom she was sure he’d heard, and that she’d had to fall back on before, but never to a Leveilleur: “To ignore the plight of those one might conceivably save is not wisdom—it is indolence.”

The way he turned it onto Alphinaud and Alisaie felt like a slap, and she hissed, ready to argue.

The confidence with which he disowned them after silenced her immediately. The breaking of their voices as Alisaie moved to follow her progenitor, and Alphinaud told her to give it up, those set Etien’s eyes to welling.

They were so resigned… Had she looked so incredibly smalland alone when she’d set off on that forest path, effectively made orphan by breaking from her family, the way they had just been severed from theirs?

She answered her linkpearl, sighing her way through the conversation with Krile so she didn’t start crying for her surrogate siblings.

As they left the Lotus Stand, she took Alisaie’s free hand, the one that wasn’t folded into Alphinaud’s. “Well… you could always be wards of House Fortemps again. Or take up temporary residence with me, as I imagine Toto will be filling out the paperwork to have you as Aldynns the second she hears this wretched news.”

Alisaie squeezed Etien’s hand, and Alphinaud just looked back at her mournfully.

***

Etien had never been close with Arenvald—it was like that with many of the bearers of the Echo, she’d noticed; Etien could be friendly with them and sympathize with the struggle they shared, but something she couldn’t name stopped her from ever really opening up to them. She had never been close with Arenvald, but she could see just how hard the news of his permanent injury was hitting Alphinaud.

How many more things was he going to lose in this single swoop?

Her heart went out to him, but some vein of bitterness in her started to bleed when Alphinaud lamented that now he knew how heavy the burdens of other people’s dream were.

Nowhe knew.

And he wondered if he’d made the right choice. The slow bleed was a trickle now. Yes, well, it had been a choice for him, hadn’t it?He’d chosen to leave the rest of the Sharlayans and come to Eorzea, to squabble with Alisaie about what their grandfather had wanted and intended.

He’d chosen to… she’d chosen to leave home, too. But he didn’t have the weight of the very star’s conscription on his back with all those dreams.

Hydaelyn had roped her like a lost calf, then Lyse and Papalymo had slipped the hobble on.

The oxbow pinched and the yoke was heavy, but someone had to help Alphinaud carry the dreams he’d been entrusted. They’d come this far together, and he’d said to the Chais, they prevailed together or not at all.

And so they would do on the battlefield. She took his hand for help up onto the airship headed for Carteneau, and off they went.

***

He knew it was dangerous, when the fray pressed in around him on all sides, but Aymeric scanned the battlefield, his gaze settling on Lunar Ifrit, bold as brass and starkly purple where he wasn’t dark as the sky above them.

And zipping around the primal’s feet were streaks of blue and bronze, and dark, night-sky blue and silver.

He could almost hear them, so familiar was he with the way they fought, the sounds they would have made. Etien coming down onto her feet from a perfectly-aimed shot with a low grunt, a growl as Estinien drove his lance forward.

Aymeric couldn’t go to them, not when he was leading this squadron. But, he could do this.

“I need a contingent to break away and support the trio fighting Ifrit. Keep their Academician on his feet so he can take care of the others.”

An Adder and two Temple Knights ran from the Telotek they had been fighting, and Aymeric tried to watch out of the corner of his eye as they approached Ifrit.

Satisfied with their progress across the field, he focused once more on giving his all to subdue the Gnath before him so a porxie could set the poor thing right again.Maybe the Scions wouldn’t let Etien be selfish, but they would never be able to stop him from acting in her best interest.

And he watched her even as Estinien left her side, joining the Scions. Her face was tipped up to the sky as the purple-robed Ascian talked to her.

Whatever he said, it made her eyes narrow, her lips pursing before she bared her teeth. By the time she’d gotten control of her expression again, the Ascian was gone.

Etien looked out over the battlefield, her eyes drawn to a Durendaire shield, drawn to Ala Mhigan soldiers running across the dirt with urgency, but running to instead of from.

And then, she saw Alphinaud, struggling in his work on one of the fallen. When all he got was a death rattle of “Glory be to Garlemald,” he gave up, pounding the earth. So they regrouped with Alisaie, and approached the others.

Aymeric was standing with Hien when the metaphorical dust settled, which surprised Etien little, considering their positions as the heads of the most recent additions to the Alliance (save Ala Mhigo and now the other Allied populations of Eorzea), but it did still warm her heart to see the both of them doing all right after so hard a struggle.

And it had been. It was an overall success, yes, but plenty had been lost in the process. Prefaced by a sigh, she encouraged and agreed with Alisaie and Alphinaud, “one battle at a time, we’ll get there.”

She rubbed at her forehead, feeling a headache brewing and hoping it wasn’t Echo-related. But she dropped her hand as the sky cleared, giving them all clear view of the moon.

It was a lot like hope, wasn’t it? Sometimes it wasn’t evident—in the sky or in the hearts of the people—but it hadn’t gone away. A new phase would come and it would be seen again.

Still, seeing the signal they’d come to recognize, both Aymeric and Estinien came to Etien’s side, ready to help her however she needed to get her home in one piece. Well, “home” was to the Rising Stones; it had been made clear by the way the Scions were talking that they were going to be reconvening there, and all of them had better be there.

Estinien grumbled, but joined everyone on the Ishgardian airship, sticking close to Etien and Aymeric at the side of the ship, massaging Etien’s hand to alleviate her headache, and her wrist to soothe any nausea the flying might cause when she was already in some pain.

She leaned against the wall as the Scions talked about what came next and what they wished they could have done, most of her pain relieved now, but still so tired.

She regretted now saying that the road went ever onward, all that time ago. Had she known she was damning herself, she would have kept her mouth shut.

As the Scions dispersed, Estinien came to her side again.

“A place to settle down. Here? Hmph.” He crossed his arms, leaning next to Etien against the cool stone. “What does he think he’s talking about?”

She shrugged, smiling but looking a little helpless for an answer.

“We have ourselves quite the man.” He shook his head.

At this, Etien vigorously nodded.

“Come on, then,” he reached out to take her hand. “We had best get home to him before he starts worrying.”

As they clasped hands, her bare fingers (fingerless gloves after all) curling onto the metal of Estinien’s gauntlets, she sighed again.

“Surely it cannot be so bad to hold my hand,” he remarked over his shoulder as they walked through the Seventh Heaven.

“No. It isn’t. That one was relieved, actually.”

“Relieved?”

“I’ll be happy to have you home, Estinien.”

“I imagine Aymeric will be, too.” He tried to hide it, with snark, with his hair, but he did smile.

Etien trotted after him, telling tales of the critters here catching her off-guard, but she was trying to hide her excitement in bubbly stories.

The road may still be going on, but she was going to take this detour. She was going back home.

#fic #wyrmelliferel #this is a big one #it's almost 4k #5.55 spoilers

[jenovahh]

Crystal Exarch Drabble (NSFW)

i have absolutely nothing to say for myself except don’t LOOK....AT ME ===================================================== In day to day life, it’s easy to forget the Crystal Exarch, G’raha Tia, is very much a warrior in his own right.

It seems forever ago, perhaps literally for him, that he would spout off with his prowess with a bow and arrow. It is only recently since your journey as a couple does he remind you of the muscled body hidden beneath the robe.

While he was a tia, you had no doubt that under different circumstances (if they could be called that) he would be a Nuhn.

But he doesn’t have to, nor want to be anyone’s nuhn, save your own. It is this thought that keep your practically tied to his bed when a heat rolls around, the usually soft spoken, reserved, shy Miqo’te turning into an insatiable monster.

It is those times that you feel him nuzzling into your neck, tail curling around you thigh as he presses close against you, let you feel his arousal against your backside. You can’t help but whine, a tired “Again?” passing through your lips as he nods firmly, reaching around to part your folds with his hand.

He had been more surprised at the return of the heat, the fact he was a tia notwithstanding. He had deemed his age a greater contributing factor to his absence of a heat, more so than the altering of his body due to being bonded to the crystal tower.

Knowing what you did of heats, you had offered to stay by his side, not feeling quite prepared for the assault on your emotions and body it would take. G’raha had always been a caring lover, always selfless in the share pleasure between you two. That did not change during his heats, in his rush to be buried deep within you. If anything it made him more feral, hips pistoning into you as if he could not, would not get enough of the heat of your body.

Even in his haste to quell the fire raging within him, he prepares you with his cool, crystalline hand, making you shiver against him. Fangs gently scrape against your neck as his fingers spread you open, the slick from your opening giving his fingers a noticeable sheen. “You always bemoan me for this, dragging you close again...” he whispers hungrily against your neck, removing his fingers to line his cock with your entrance. “Yet you’re always so ready for me to fill you each time...”

With each ilm he presses in, your moan grows louder, thankful that no one is allowed in the Crystal Tower save you two, and Lyna who thankfully could take a hint and remain absent for a few days. Shuddering breaths are forced out on the pillow beneath your head, sighing his name into the cool sheets. He presses soft kisses to your skin, the last bit of gentleness you’ll see from him once he finishes letting you adjust to his length.

“Have I ever told you,” he pulls out slowly, tail curling around your thigh tighter, “that I had always dreamed of taking you like this?” his voice is barely above a whisper as he glides back in, choosing a slow pace that has you whining for more. You can feel his smirk against your back, but he does not give into to your wishes. “For a century have I imagined you wet and wanting...watched you so very carefully...thought things so lewd and obscene that I’m sure even Thancred would cover his face in shame.” 

His free hand snakes under your body to pull you closer still, as if he wants to be unsure where he ends and where you begin. “Will you indulge me in them love? These thoughts I have of you...” he purrs, picking up the pace bit by bit. You can offer no response and he knows it, unable to form words with his heat engorged cock reaching as deep as your body will allow. Each whimper you release seems to make his thrusts a little more forceful, the sound of your fucking loud over the quiet hum of the tower.

“G’raha...” you breathe, turning slightly so that you may bring his lips to yours, his hand moving from your arousal to lift your leg, letting him reach deep inside. He nibbles on your bottom lip, your last warning before the urgency his body demands of him settles in, and he drives into you like a man possessed. His name is a mantra to anyone who will hear, your hips doing their best to meet his assault but failing terribly. You’re a moaning, sweaty mess, G’raha drinking those moans down eagerly as if he is a man dying of thirst.

“Look at you, my love...” he coos, rugged and breathless. His red eyes trained only on you, love and affection shining through. “So hungry and needy for me...” He pulls out for just a moment, just so that he may lay you on your back, elbows cradling your head as he lowers himself back into your wet sheathe. There’s no reprieve from his assault, his hips pounding relentlessly, bed creaking in protest from his aggression.

“I want to see you...” he rasps, smiling so warmly it makes your heart do flips. “After so long, I...” he’s unable to finish, burying his hands in the sheets as you both draw nearer. Leaning back on his knees, his hands clutch onto your hips hard enough to bruise, your legs locking around his own. “C-Come for me,” he begs, gripping harder to the point of pain but it doesn’t outweigh the pleasure as you obey his request, clamping down on the cock inside you.

He releases a strangled cry, claws digging into your skin as he empties himself within you. His tail twitches pitifully behind him, breathing ragged as he surrenders to the needs of his body. Spent, he leans his head on your chest, body trembling with the force of your shared orgasm.

As the moment passes, you feel him finally lift his head, a satisfied smile on his face. It seems the beast within is tamed for now, his hands caressing the spots on your hips he knows will be marked later. 

“Thank you, darling.” he presses a kiss to your cheek, and you give him a tired smile in response. “I believe it is too late to break your fast, though I could make us some sandwiches for lunch?” he offers, finally pulling out. 

“That would be nice.” you sigh, wanting to move to go bathe, but feeling too exhausted at the moment. 

“Very well. I will dress and bring you your meal.” While he never hesitated to cook for you any other day, he was especially adamant about it during his heats, as a small token of his appreciation. 

That, and it served the dual purpose of keeping your energy up for his insatiable needs.

“G’raha!” you call, just as he finishes pulling his robe over his head. 

“Yes?” he asks, reaching for his staff. He must be planning to head to the market for fresh ingredients.

“What will we do, if I actually do become with child?” he freezes on the spot, cheeks a rosy pink as if somehow he never considered the possibility. You can’t help but laugh at his expense, watching as he runs a nervous hand through his hair.

#Crystal Exarch #G'raha Tia #Shadowbringers #FFXIV #ff14 #shb spoilers #heat fic is totally not my kink #hahahahahaha #hahahahahaahaha #*sobs quietly*

[mirroralchemist]

Untitled FFXIV Trash pt.3

Still at it again :V. @but-two-days-old became my enabler. Also a great sounding board for my headcanons about my WoL

Word Count: 1,451 (the rough draft, it’s probably more with this upload lol) Notes: I feel like writing about That Scene(tm) is a rite of passage for FFXIV fanfics. So this is based the Ahm Araeng the second trip, so a loooot of spoilers. Also mentions The Vault a bit. One-sided WoL/Thancred and unrequited WoL/Haurchefaunt. But mainly time for sad times.

“You have no words for her?”

“Not today.”

I stared at Thancred, not really surprised. He seemed tired, the weary look in his eyes of years of regret. Being out here in Twine and seeing Magnus’ situation first hand is almost staring at a reflection of his own problems. I wanted to offer my support more than just a lending ear. I was grateful he could open up to me about our Minfilia, but I could do more.

Be more.

I took his hand into my own, just briefly, to know that I was there if he needed me. I let out a small breath. Being here reminded me of what I had lost. Hearing ‘Filia’s words brought back a bit of that pain I felt as I lost those around me.

If I wasn’t the Warrior of Light, a lot of those who were lost would still be among us.

There were many who were chosen to receive the Echo, surely if I had died another could take up the mantle?

“As the one who’s been here the shortest, it isn’t my place to tell you what you should and shouldn’t do in regards to ‘Filia.” I started, “But as your friend I will say this; don’t hold off until the very last moment to leave things unsaid. Once they’re gone, that’s it.”

I clenched my hands into a fist, remembering that day so clearly. The one of many regrets that collected over the time on my journey. As Haurchefant laid dying, so many words I should have said beforehand; so many feelings realized in that one moment that I couldn’t say. I thought I had made peace with it while pulling Nidhogg’s eyes from Estinien’s body.

Seeing someone make those same mistakes, especially someone I hold in such a high regard.

I couldn’t take that feeling.

“I’m going to do a couple hunts around the the town gates, when we all are ready let me know.”

I sprinted away from him. I didn’t want him to see me like this. Not so exposed, not when we have more pressing matters to confront. I would talk with ‘Filia when I can be alone with her. To tell her there are people who love her. That if she had disappeared tomorrow many of us would be sad. More than the Oracle, she was like a little sister to me.

In some respects, almost like a daughter.

I jumped off one of the ledges from Twine and landed on the ground. I whistled a familiar pitch, summoning my Chocobo. Giving me a soft “kweh”, I pet his beak.

“You ready for a bit of training Yusuke?” I asked as I took out a bundle of Gyshal Greens.

An excited kweh in response as I prepped myself for some combat. I took out my gunblade, watching it unfold to its full length. I had been training in secret as a Gunbreaker since my return from Gridania. I was thankful that I could cast a glamour on my clothing so one couldn’t tell when I was. When I had the free time from my duties here in the First, taking on jobs with Radovan and Sophie I learned to appreciate the role of being a bodyguard. I took stance, readying my ammunition to imbue with my aether. I took a few steadying breaths.

I need to clear my head as an occupied mind leads to mistakes in the battlefield.

“Let’s go!”

*   *   *

The enemies here were a bit tougher than what I’m used to. I sat on the sands, not even minding the grains against my legs. My gunblade discarded to the side. Yusuke standing ever beside me waiting his next order. I motioned for him to come sit beside me before giving lazy pets to his head.  He still gave out the same contented kwehs as if I have given him the best pats of his life. He did so well backing me up as I got used to enemies focusing their attention on me. I wasn’t confident enough to apply that to people just yet, but I could slowly warm up to the idea.

The hunts took my mind off the situation at hand for a while, but now they were coming back. I let out a small sigh. My hands began to tremble as I continued to stroke Yusuke’s plumage. Those feelings of self-doubt and regret welling up inside of me and wanting to burst. Yusuke nudged his head against my shoulder in some attempt to console me. I smiled shyly at my Chocobo.

He always was an intelligent creature.

“Thanks Yusuke. I’ll be alright, just it’s a lot going on.”

He started to kweh, before going rigid. Immediately, he stood up and got into an offensive stance.

“A protective little one, isn’t he?”

I scrambled to get up from my spot before gently touching the reigns on Yusuke to soothe him.

“It’s okay boy, Thancred is not a threat.” I spoke, petting his beak with my free hand.

It seemed only a couple minutes before my mount calmed enough that I could loosen my grip on the reigns. I could still feel some of the tenseness, but it wouldn’t be to the point that he would do anything without my command. I am not wholly surprised at the reaction, Yusuke has always been faithfully protective of me. From the day he was given to me by the Immortal Flames. Very few could take his trait in stride.

“I shouldn’t be surprised you would be talented in caring Chocobos too.”

“I...wasn’t.” I admitted, “Not at first. I knew the basics. But Lord Haurchefant, he..he had a way with chocobos. Taught me everything I know to care for mines. Even helped me inspire him to fly.”

I stroke around Yusuke’s head, watching as his sky blue plumes envelope my hand. I allowed myself to smile at those days in Ishgard. The times when there was a lull between putting an end to the generations long war between man and dragon. Those times when I thought everyone else was dead and it took all I had to not give in to the overwhelming despair; learning to take care of Yusuke with Haurchefant gave me just enough strength to go on.

He helped remind me that I was more than just the Warrior of Light; that I was Ami, a woman from Ul’dah and I was allowed to feel this way.

“You must have loved him very much.”

I paused in my pets. I turned around to face Thancred. I opened my mouth to say something, before promptly closing it. I never did talk about that day at the Vault with the others that didn’t experience it firsthand. And even then, there was a silent understanding that speaking on it was hard.

I’m sure the others had told him at the very least the main details of what happened.

“You said that once before.” I said, “That I had a look as if I lost someone I had loved back in Ishgard. It is...complicated. Looking back now, I did love him. My heart had yearned for a hopeless endeavor for so long that I was blind to those ahead of me. It took until he was dying from an attack intended for me that I realized; the notion of being by his side that intimately would have been pleasant.”

I let out a harsh breath reliving those days. I had told no one else of these feelings. I had buried them for so long. Saying them now felt hollow.

When all of this is said and done, what will I have to show for it? Sure the worlds will be saved, but what will I have to show for it?

“But I made my choices and I must live with the consequences of that for the rest of my days.” I bitterly realized, “Are the others ready?”

“Yes, the trolley is ready. Once our preparations are done we can leave.”

I gave a brisk nod as a patted Yusuke one more time. He kweh’ed one more time before taking off. I watched as he went towards the direction of the Crystarium.

“He knows his way back to the Rookery.” I said, “Where we’re going, it’ll be no place for him.”

I heard the shifting sands of Thancred closing in on me. I turned around to meet his gaze. In his hands was my Scaevan Magitek gunblade, in its compact form. I reached out to grab it, only for our hands to touch over the handle. It couldn’t have been more than a minute before he let go and I placed it back into my pack. His hand found its way to the top of my head.

“Once this is all over, I would like to see how far you’ve progressed with the Gunblade.”

I nodded dumbly at him. The shock of hearing such a request. He smiled wistfully at me before heading back into town. I stared at his retreating back for a bit while my hand absently touched the spot on my head his was just a few moments ago.

Now I see why ‘Filia always seems too happy to get those head pats.

#writing things #shit writing #final fantasy XIV #final fantasy 14 #fanfic #fanfiction #ffxiv #ff14 #shadowbringers spoilers #heavensward spoilers #Time for sad times #my WoL would def called Minfilia 'Filia before she becomes Ryne #Bonding through chocobos #I totally named my chocobo after P5!Yusuke and made him blue because of it #He would def protect his non-feathered mama #He sensed that Ami was tense around Thancred and went offensive stance #It's my headcanon Haurchefant was consoling Ami through helping her raise Yusuke #He totally taught her how to change the plumes to blue #Imma write a thing showing his attempts to woo and console her goddammit

[smitten-miqitten]

Steward (Diverge)

Ao3 Link Here

Starts midway through Steward of the main series. This is all just setup for the story, it’ll get more into memories and things in the next chapter.  Please look forward to it (or not, idc)

……………………………………………..

“My silly mortal, you’re mourning, making gestures for someone who no longer exists to care. Why go through all this trouble for someone who did not spare your very existence a second thought?”

“My gestures are less for him than for the shades”,  Era replied.

“The shades have no need for your flowers” Feo Ul countered, not at all interested in half truths.

“Quite right”, agreed a familiar voice. A voice that, by all rights, should not be speaking. “For that matter, neither do I. Yet here you are. How curious.”

Era turned, eyes wide half with shock, half with confusion. How, in the name of the Twelve, was Emet-Selch there staring at her, arms crossed leaning against the doors she’d just walked out of? It defied all reason.

Feo Ul followed Era’s sudden startled gaze, but saw nothing that might have warranted such a response. “Seeing ghosts, my dearest sapling?” They teased.

“Ghosts indeed”, replied the Ascian, uncrossing his arms to reveal the large hole in his midsection Era had put there not but a few weeks prior. His gold eyes narrowed, never leaving her face.

She noticed now that he did not appear to be entirely solid, possessing much the same glow Ardbert had. But there had been a very good reason she could see Ardbert, and that reason most certainly did not also apply to Emet-Selch. Hades, his name is Hades, rang a small nagging voice in her head. At the very least, his killer ought to refer to him properly, she thought.

She continued to stare, debating what to do next. Should she send Feo Away? It was clear they couldn’t see Hades, she’d look crazy speaking to him now. But what if he’s up to something?  No, judging by the state of him, he was likely as capable of causing mischief as Ardbert was. Which is to say, not at all.

“Feo, perhaps we could discuss this some other time? I’ll speak to Bismark about it as well. There’s something… I forgot.” Feo Ul nodded and, despite being ever so curious, departed without argument. Hades smirked at her comment, but there was no true humor behind it.

“How..” She began, but shook her head. How didn’t matter, why didn’t matter. What mattered was that she suddenly had the answers to the questions plaguing her since the day they fought. Right in front of her, within reach. No more pestering shades, scrounging for scraps of fragments of information he had deigned to leave behind. And she had no idea how long this apparition would persist for.

“Who am I…was I? And you!?” She asked, frantic, as if he would vanish any moment sneering and withholding the truth yet again.

“What, not so much as a hello? ‘How are you?’ 'How’s the lifestream this time of year?’ Surely you’re curious as to why a dead man stands before you?”

Slouches before me, more like. “Are you going to vanish in the next hour?” She asked quickly, impatient.

“No”, He replied, appearing rather amused at her inquisitive fervor.

“Then of course I’m curious. How in the hells… No, you’re dodging the question. I need to know, after all Hythlodaeus said, after rejoining with Ardbert….”

“Hythlodaeus? How did you come to know that name?” His smirk had gone, replaced with a rather serious look. He was slouching no longer and sauntered closer, staring down at her.

Era told him of the Hythlodaeus she met, his words, and what had transpired between herself and Ardbert in the Dying Gasp. With each revelation Hades’ face grew more and more pained. If she didn’t know better, Era would have thought he was mentally kicking himself for something.

“So it wasn’t a trick of the light. Ah, but I knew that at the end anyway. Would that I had known sooner… you really ought to be more forthcoming about such things! You persistently saw a ghost and didn’t think to tell someone?!”

“As if the person I’d tell would be you? With all your cruel remarks? Not on your life…or… well…” She looked away, feeling rather guilty. “Anyway, I did tell the Exarch, though he dismissed it.”

“Well, it matters not now.” He said, waving his hand as if to brush the idle thoughts away, “As you seem to have surmised, you and I were once the dearest of friends… no, don’t give me that look. At this point the distinction between you and Her is irrelevant. You are as much Her as She has been in over a thousand years. I saw as much when you rejoined”, He gave her a smug look at that, “with this Ardbert, this fragment from the First. Is that not why you look so pitiful, wracked with guilt over my death? Truly, you need not worry overmuch about that. There are certainly a great many apologies in order, but not for that. As is per usual between us, I would not concede the argument. Tempering notwithstanding.” He was smiling now, the same smile he had worn before fading away. “I still don’t think you’re right, by the way, but by now perhaps I ought to humor you. You always were stubborn…”

“I…would like to hear more, but I suppose I really ought to ask how it is you’ve come to be here. Clearly the… the auracite worked…” She gestured halfheartedly toward the rather obvious hole in his chest. Despite his insistence that she needn’t worry, she still felt horrible. She hadn’t wanted it to come to that. So rarely did she ever want to kill someone.

“Surrounded by scholars as you are, I’m sure you know that the lifestream has a maximum capacity, yes? Such is the reason crystals form when vast amounts of aether are released suddenly, as a means to contain it until such a time as it can be reabsorbed. I of course possessed no small amount of aether, all of which you so unceremoniously introduced to the lifestream with that ridiculous blade of yours. Ordinarily I would have remained there, drifting much as your friend had, waiting ages to be repurposed, being battered and worn till naught but my barest soul was left, but that is so very tedious”, He slouched again, gesturing in his peculiar exaggerated way.

He smiled again, “And then I felt you. Like a beacon, no different from the way you jump from one aetheryte to another. Your soul was not this bright before, but now it veritably shines. It seems that, so long as I am in your company, I can keep what remnants of myself I still have control over here in this realm.”

Era felt simultaneously dismayed and relieved at this news. She wasn’t exactly keen on being followed around by Emet-Selch, the man who singlehandedly orchestrated the suffering of countless people including those whom she held dearest. Yet, there was a small part of her, or perhaps the original part of her, that was glad of his continued presence. Or rather, the presence of the better person he once was. Somehow, Era felt complicit in his crimes, and so found herself unable to judge him too harshly for them. After a fashion, his actions were because of her. Or perhaps she gave herself (her original self) too much credit. Judging by his tone, however, she did not think this the case.

“So, what? Just here to watch, then? Things have been getting interesting; I’m sure you’d find Eden curious.” Era motioned for them to walk, as she was getting odd stares from passing shades for talking to herself. Did children in those days have imaginary friends they would speak to? Perhaps that’s what they thought of her conversation now.

She had no particular destination in mind as she walked, passing out of the administrative district to a more residential one. With the size of the city she could likely walk forever without ever having to turn around.

“Not opposed to my company? How odd. Then again, of your little group you were the least hostile.” He looked a little bored at Era’s pace, his stride being far longer than hers.

“Says the person who started half the fights! Openly scheming, bullying Thancred… Is it really any wonder they didn’t like you? Well, aside from Ryne. She didn’t mind you much, actually.” Are we really just chatting? What even is this? , she thought. “At any rate, I haven’t much right to refuse, given I’m the reason you’re in this position.”

“Not to mention…I would be dismayed if I were to find that some future iteration of myself were unkind to my friends. As I would not have them forsake my friends, I would not forsake Hers. There is much I want to learn, about Her and about the original world. Also,” She considered, “I would like to learn how to see souls, if such a thing would be possible. If you reincarnate within my lifetime, I should very much like to not be at odds again." And I’d like to keep you from being lonely, after the mess that’s caused. She thought, though she couldn’t bring herself to say it aloud.

"A pleasant thought, though unlikely to come of anything. It will take quite a bit of time, I’m sure. If Elidibus does his job right, you may be entirely whole by the time I am reborn.”  Era made a face at that, as if to say she’d never let that happen. “Oh come now, you and I both know he can just wait til you die of old age, should he choose that course. Though I imagine that isn’t his intent. No, he’ll want you dealt with.”

Hades stopped to consider some flowers that were in a nearby garden. “I admit I am quite keen to see you learn about the past, and I suppose I don’t mind to teach you how to see souls, though I doubt your capacity for the art.”

“However,” He said, tone growing suddenly darker, as if angered, “I won’t tell you about yourself. Or myself. That’s your job to remember. Who you are, what you did! ”  He spat, jabbing at her forehead with a finger, surprising her at his ability to make actual contact. Ardbert hadn’t been able to do that. It hurt, but not nearly  as much as his tone.“I said there were a great many apologies in order, did I not?” Era felt a sharp pang of guilt, feeling, knowing there was something to the accusation, though what eluded her.

“You need to put in the work, hero.” Hades growled, golden eyes burning in the dim gloom of the illusory underwater city.

#shadowbringers spoilers #shb spoilers #5.0 spoilers #era hess #emet selch #my self indulgent minifics #feo ul