#Silvaineaux Rosaire

[houserosaire]

I couldn't resist making one of these for Silvaineaux. The quote is just his House motto. Here is the template in case anyone else would like to play around with it.

#Silvaineaux #Silvaineaux Rosaire #ffxiv rp

[roses-and-grimoires]

Prompt #14: Clear

Characters: Idristan, Talan @zoetic-tome, Silvaineaux @houserosaire Warnings: Blood

The darkening sky was clear overhead as Idristan stood across from the man who had decided to insult his husband not once, but twice. In truth, he had been half-expecting him to not show up at all; many were far too craven, once they realized that the man who had decided to challenge them knew how to wield a blade well. But any glimmers of appreciation he might have been his opponent for bravery were dashed the moment that he had opened his mouth.

As they stand across the field of snow from each other, him and the man who had dared to insult his husband, Idristan takes a moment to feel the weight of the rapier. Different, from the one he was used to, but pleasantly solid, the tip slimming down to a vicious point.

He nods once, then looks forward, eyes blazing with enough fury to make their goddess proud. Then, abruptly, he smirks, and lifts his arms out to the sides. Come and get him. If you dare.

As his opponent charges towards him, he steps smoothly out of the way with an near supernatural speed and grace. One of his legs snaps out as he does so, and the other man falls flat on his face into the snow.

A smirk lingers on the white-haired man's face as the rude Ishgardian sputters and shoves himself to his feet, his face red as he looks around and spots faces with hints of amusement. He lunges again, and again the voidhunter dodges, leading him on a merry chase. Every now and then, he follows up with an attack of his own, but they are always measured, controlled. Not enough to draw blood.

He is in control here, and this dance would go on as long as he wished it to.

When he finally grows bored, like a cat might tire of toying with a mouse, the end comes swiftly. A dodge, a sharp thrust, and suddenly blood coats the snow as Idristan rips his rapier from the shoulder of the other man.

His eyes are cold as he turns away, ignoring the crunch as the other man's second rushes towards him. With a careless flick of the wrist he casts some of the blood off his weapon, before handing it to Silvaineaux with an appreciative nod. Then he looks over towards Talan.

"I hope that was enough for you, mon amour." He finally glances back over his shoulder, his lips pursing as he watches the fuss going on behind him. "Because I don't think he's going to forget this for awhile."

#ffxivwrite2023 #ffxivwrite #writings #idristan agache #talan/talia redwing #silvaineaux rosaire

[idanwyn-et-al]

(XIV||22-24): Vicissitudes.

(Continued from here.) (♪)

Her thoughts turned to that macabre pit as the wagon treads found the path, carrying its cargo towards the Gates of Judgment. Would she have time to behold the stiff corpses at its bottom before her eyes darkened for the final time? Would her soul be delivered unto Halone’s halls for its final weighing before being cast unto the aetherial sea, forever inscribed with the Fury’s decision? Was she fated to live her next life expunging the guilt she’d accrued in this one, perhaps as a Brumeling, or some mean creature of the woods hunted for sport after enjoying only a few summers of life?

Such fates were not hers to know; indeed, it was borderline-heretical to even think upon them. Though the Ishgardian Orthodox Church was changing nowadays, a thousand years of doctrine wouldn’t merely vanish from the hearts and minds of clergy and laity overnight.

A new Ishgard. A better Ishgard. But possibly not for her to see, in this lifetime nor the next.

---Previously, in the southwesternmost portion of the Coerthan central highlands:---

Like most other Ishgardians, Anne-Sophie fondly recalled the time before the Calamity when snows hadn’t fallen year-round. There had even been the odd heat wave here and there; days that saw commonfolk and nobles alike donning their lightest tunics and chemises, escaping stuffy stone dwellings to bask in the sun-warmed breezes. Some, like the members and servants of her own House, were lucky enough to own a country estate, and it was to those tree-shaded grounds that her family had absconded when such weather favored them, giddy with good fortune.

All a frozen waste, now; the river’s summertime sonata forever stilled within icebound banks.  Anne-Sophie shielded her eyes from the snowfall; perhaps she should have kept her Temple Knight armor on after all. Dismissing the thought with a shake of her head, she patted Vendredi on his feathery withers. “One drink from the river, and then we’ll be on our way, all right?”

Vendredi wasn’t listening, his attention focused on the path that led back to the Observatorium. Though their night there had passed without issue, same as the night after huddled together by the fire in Monument Tower, the chocobo had been preoccupied with the road that now lay behind them.

Anne-Sophie dismounted, leading her willful steed to the riverbank. These waters, at least, still flowed; spared the worst of the Calamity’s wrath, despite large chunks of Dalamud still visible some malms from its northern side. The Midlander coaxed her chocobo to drink; he remained reluctant to comply. "Vendredi, choux! Please. We're right by the Shroud; you'll see your beloved Comtesse soon enough, mm?

Silvaineaux Rosaire’s approach was far from silent. The telltale sounds of armored man and bird came along the road, the padding footfalls of a quite substantial chocobo and the soft clank and chime of mail. Oddly enough those likely familiar sounds came not from the direction of Coerthas but from the Shroud. Another sound came along with them for a moment, the almost jaunty sound of someone whistling a battle hymn cheerfully to himself. But Joyeux’s head came up as if he noticed something and the whistling stopped. The bird’s steps slowed, and then stopped altogether. For a moment Silvaineaux studied the smaller figure and her fine bird, then gently patted Joyeux’s neck as he slid down from his own saddle.

The preoccupied Mystic Knight noticed neither man nor bird, despite their merry jingles. "Kweeehhh---", Vendredi protested, attempting to direct his mistress's eyes to the path. She, however, was too lost in her own little world to pay him the mind he deserves. "But you *love* this stream! We spent so much time here when visiting Noémie!"

Silvaineaux was no more silent on foot than he had been on bird back, leather creaked, plate clanked, spurs and mail chimed. Yet they did so softly, for he was placing his boots carefully on the snow as he drew closer, his head tilting slightly this way and that as he considered his quarry.  Joyeux followed obediently despite the lack of hold on the reins still looped up on his neck. When no response came by the time he had closed the majority of the distance and satisfied himself with what he saw, he cleared his throat. “Ser Bale?” He asked in his deep voice, his hand settling on the hilt of his sword.

"Yes?" she replied instantly, her eyes still on Vendredi, and then realization dawned. "I-I mean, n-no, I am but a humble squire in service to House Bale. I must have misheard! How do you fare, S-Ser?" She swept a bow towards the unknown Elezen, reaching back to try to nonchalantly push her hair beneath her cap; she hadn’t washed it with her sister’s shampoo this morning. Red locks refused to be contained.

'K-kwe-eeh....' Vendredi whistled; an "I-told-you-so" in any language. He dipped his beak towards Joyeux.

The Wildwood‘s lips twitched briefly upward at their corners with that absent confirmation of his suspicion, then his face settled back into its unreadable calm. He regarded her with that same calm, his odd-hued eyes perhaps unnervingly steady. “A humble squire with a very fine bird and a very fine blade, and a face very like that I have seen on posters calling for the arrest of a heretic?” he asked, just as calmly.

Ser Bale's eyes widened, and...her shoulders slumped in defeat. She stood her ground, though, narrowly resisting the urge to flee. "You've caught me, Ser. House Rosaire, unless I am mistaken?” She gestures in the direction of his insignia to illustrate her point. “Do you mean to take me in, then?"

Silvaineaux’s brows lifted slightly at the recognition. “You are not mistaken.” His hand shifted just a little on the hilt of his sword, but he did not draw the blade. Instead, his eyes left hers to briefly sweep over the wild country around them. Behind him Joyeux’s head dipped, his beak gently mouthing and smoothing the cape at his master’s shoulder before he offered the other bird a soft chirp of greeting. “Perhaps.” He said at last. “I should. But perhaps you might tell me what heresy it was you committed? The posters weren’t terribly specific.”

"I did not realize any posters still remained, to speak true. I-I thought they'd all been," she reaches up with her right hand and mimes curling parchment between her fingers to tear it down. "You know. Um. Well, I can tell you, if you...if you want to move somewhere else. Confessing my sins in the summer snows does not feel...um. Well, I don't much care for it."

Vendredi craned his neck to pluck at the ever-heavy burden of scrolls and armor-laden packs his mistress had strapped to his haunches. In chocobo-speak, his motions are meant to signify something to the effect of 'these people, right?'

Silvaineaux shook his head. “Not quite all. Or, not quite all before I saw one at any rate.” If the small denial of her reply troubled him it did not show by any darkening of his expression. But his left hand reached up, not for his shield but to absently pat the bird behind him. “And if I agreed to move with you, where did you have in mind?” he asked. “As a suitable place to confess your sins? Though I am not a priest. I cannot give  you absolution.” Joyeux let out a low whistle, his great head tilting as he regarded the smaller bird.

Anne-Sophie frowned, but accepted this new knowledge readily. "I see. Then they really *are* angry. Um...as to your question, I would have you pick the location. I prefer to not disarm myself, seeing as my Glass has a bounty all its own, but...if you have somewhere in mind, Vendredi and I shall accompany you thither." She mounts her much-relaxed steed; he’s always happy to see other chocobos, as he assumes they will all love him as much as he loves himself. "A-and," she adds quickly, her hands moving to accentuate her words, "if I must be disarmed to speak, I shall."

The Elezen nodded. “Someone is decidedly displeased with you,” he agreed. “I will not suggest you accompany me home. Yet, at any rate,” he glanced around them. “How far from our homeland do you wish to be before you can speak your truths? The border to the Shroud is not far. We could speak there?”

The Midlander released a sigh of relief, her broad shoulders rising and falling beneath her woolen mantle. "Yes. Are you familiar with Fallgourd Float?"

“I am,” he replied. “At least, I have passed through there a few times. Is that where you would prefer to speak? As to your blade…I suppose we will discuss disarming when I decide how likely you seem to attempt to use it on me.”

"I am disinclined to start a commotion, Ser, especially within neutral grounds such as the Float. If I must defend myself, I shall, but I will not draw arms otherwise, may the Fury strike me down if I lie."

He nodded. “I would expect no less, Ser. I also assure you I do not intend to offer you any violence unless it is necessary. To Fallgourd Float then?” He turned then and gripped the reins, planting a foot in the stirrup and swinging his armored bulk into Joyeux’s saddle with ease. “Lead the way.”

Anne-Sophie squeezed her boots against Vendredi’s sides; the group was on the move. "And here I thought I was...just another traveller. Your eyes are very keen, Ser! Or...or perhaps I should have remained in disguise?"

Silvaineaux‘s jaw briefly tightened at the comment about his eyes, though he said nothing of what in those words may have annoyed him. “I pay good heed to my fellow travelers,” he said. “So that trouble may not catch me unawares. And your bird is a very fine one.”

"I-I apologize if I have given cause to offend," she stuttered after noticing how his expression darkened. Too, however, she follows his example, not beleaguering the point before continuing. "It is good to pay heed to the road. So I was taught, and...well, I was only paying attention to said 'fine bird' without noticing that he had noticed your presence. Seven-and-thirty springs old and still ignorant as a babe."

Silvaineaux’s armored shoulders only lifted in a small shrug at the apology, dismissing whatever offense may have been given. “Perhaps you have met fewer unfriendly travelers in your summers than I have in mine,” he suggested. “Joyeux also noticed you first.”

A clever Knight and his observant steed. On paper, his qualifications may seem quite similar to her own, and yet...she hadn’t noticed them at all. She made for a very poor fugitive, it seemed; the moment she’d thought herself close enough to the North Shroud as to be beyond recognition and capture, she’d made herself a target by foregoing all attempts at disguising herself. For now, she would chalk it up to the vicissitudes of life on the road; the Fury knew she’d met with better and worse fates on her many travels.

Anne-Sophie and Silvaineaux took their ease on the benches of a waterside gazebo in Fallgourd Float, their chocobos standing ready. A nearby waterwheel availed itself of the falls, revolving in place with steady, ancient purpose. The Mystic Knight took a deep breath; the midafternoon air was already curled at its edges with the first hints of autumn, and it steadied her heartbeat until its pace matched that of the rolling waterwheel. She hoped her words would not give Ser Rosaire cause to break their negotiated peace.

((Today’s prompt and tomorrow’s both include bits from an RP session with @houserosaire​ ! All of Silvaineaux’s dialogue and descriptions were written by them. Some were lightly edited by me for clarity/to adjust to a narrative format.))

(Continued here!)

#FFxivWrite2022 #my writing #Anne-Sophie Bale #XIV Write 22 Anne-Sophie Story #The Trial of Ser Bale #Silvaineaux Rosaire #others' writing #rp snippets #Prompt 24 #Vicissitudes

[liminal-storage]

Letters to Priarch

(This definitely didn't come out how I wanted it to because words have been extremely uncooperative this week, but I wanted to write something all the same.

Featuring several characters within Priarch: @punches-and-cream-puffs, @hiraethwyl, @daylightrays, @roses-and-grimoires, @houserosaire, @louvel-roche, and @reddevil-xiv. Abel is one of my brain children.)

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

It was meant to be an exercise. A means of putting her thoughts in order and into words. Communication was something that Priarch as a whole truly seemed to be poor at, so this was merely a means towards putting in more effort towards that. Sit down. Put ink to paper. Write down three short sentences describing her honest thoughts. (Three, and no more, because then she'd stumble over her own words.) Say them out loud later. She shuffled through each paper, knowing full well that the last step would be the hardest. The papers would probably just take up space in a drawer somewhere, but it was an effort all the same, she supposed.

Dear Abel,

I know I give you a hard time, but I couldn't run the business without you. You've never put in any less than your best, and I consider you a valuable confidant when it comes to the work. I've never said it, but I should; I truly appreciate everything you do, whether it be taking care of the paperwork or patching me up after a rough job.

Dear Teagan,

I know you often feel like you aren't doing enough, but the "little" gestures mean so much more than you think they do. And you are much stronger and better than you think you are. You shouldn't be afraid to let your voice be heard.

Dear Lyrin'a,

I wonder if you're afraid to wake up, in a way. Do you feel like no one will need you now that Death is gone? I can't speak for anyone else, but I'll always need you; you're my family, after all.

Dear Inwa,

The more I learn about you, the more I regret the way I treated you when we first met. I don't honestly know how you've managed to endure all that you have without absolutely going off on everyone. I don't understand you sometimes, but I do trust you, and I'll do my best to lend a hand if you ever need one.

Dear Idristan,

I understand that you've suffered over and over, and I would never try to minimize that. But I sincerely think your stubborn pride gets in the way of empathy for others, or makes you draw conclusions that aren't true, or makes you twist the words and intents of others (or perhaps, in a way, you feel as though you have no choice but to expect the worst). Still, there is definitely something to be said for how steadfast you are in your beliefs.

Dear Silvaineaux,

You take far too much responsibility on your shoulders. I know that you view us all as your charges, but you should let us take on some of that burden too. Then again, with the way Priarch goes off on each other, maybe we can't be trusted with that kind of responsibility...

Dear Louvel,

I want to go back to being authentic around you; you used to be one of my closest friends, but now I feel like I'm always doing or saying things that are off-putting to you. Also some of your partners are scary and I don't know if something I do might be misinterpreted and cause trouble for you. But I made a promise a long time ago and I intend to keep it, so I won't be giving up on rekindling that friendship just yet.

Dear Talan/Talia,

I still feel horrible for what happened to you, even knowing that there is nothing I or anyone else could have done that would have changed the outcome. I do wish that it was possible for you to entrust some of us with your thoughts, instead of feeling like you always have to hide in faerie. I'm sure I'm not the only one who misses having you around.

Her hands stilled when she reached the last letter, several of the words crossed out or written over.

Dear Self,

I know you're scared. You sass and keep your filters off with strangers because you feel like you've got nothing to lose, but try it with the people you value the most too. You might be surprised.

#my writing #priarch #Abel Imbertain #Okuni Tomioka #Teagan Rhuadain #Lyrin'a Muinvel #Sw'inwa Raen #Idristan Agache #Silvaineaux Rosaire #Louvel Roche #Talan Redwing/Talia Redwing

[mimble-sparklepudding]

Baron Silvaineaux de Rosaire

Baron Silvaineaux de Rosaire,

Is often encountered at prayer,

Yet his faith in Halone,

Is no mere ceremony,

But also expressed through warfare...

For the next installment of my silly poetry series, we have the noble and charismatic Baron Silvaineaux de Rosaire of @houserosaire.

Silvaineaux is an incredibly well-realised character, with a compelling backstory and a potent blend of flaws and virtues. I always thoroughly enjoy reading the responses to character asks and learning more about Silvaineaux and his world.

The writing style is engaging and punchy and there are some beautiful screenshots and gposes, with a heady mix of action, romance, chocobos, family drama, eroticism and humour.

I can definitely recommend @houserosaire for all of the above reasons, but the writer is also thoroughly pleasant and supportive of others and interacting with them is always fun.

#Baron Silvaineaux de Rosaire #silvaineaux #house rosaire #ffxiv oc #ishgard #elezen #ffxiv gpose #ffxiv screenshots #final fantasy xiv #ff14 #knight of ishgard #ffxiv rp

[iron-roots]

Getting to know new friends (and attempting to pummel them into the dirt)

@houserosaire

#anselme #anselme de haillenarte #silvaineaux #silvaineaux de rosaire #ishgard #ffxiv rp

[zoetic-tome]

Prompt 14: To First Blood

Prompt: Clear - FFXIV Write 2023  Characters: Talan, Idristan (@roses-and-grimoires), Silvaineaux (@houserosaire) Content Warning: None

Talan was often a creature of nocturnal habit. Or rather, it was more appropriate to say that Talan rose from bed just after dusk, and fell asleep just before dawn. But not today. Today found him standing outside Camp Dragonhead being buffeted by the wind and the flurry of snow that it had carried in with it.

He tugged his coat more tightly about him, despite the fact that the chill of the wind didn’t bite him near so deep as it did others. Idristan stood not far away, conversing with the man he had chosen to be his second for the coming duel. Black hair ran straight down his back in a heavy braid, and though he was dressed for fighting a duel and not in his usual full plate, Talan knew that he was no less intimidating for the lack of armor.

No one could mistake the towering form of Baron Silvaineaux de Rosaire for anything other than a soldier with his cut and frame. He was the first one to notice the approach of the man that Idristan had challenged, coming from the direction of the Gates of Judgment, and a quiet recitation of Idristan’s name forestalled whatever it was they were speaking of. 

Judging by the anger still flaring in Idristan’s eyes, it had been relaying the full extent of what was making him so furious to Silvain. Not that Silvain looked any more cheerful than Idristan. Talan was far enough away from both that he wasn’t really listening to the conversation. Instead he was leaning into the form of his great grey chocobo behind him, Aline’s long neck draped forward over his shoulder. 

He was just here to watch. To watch and nothing else. But the man and his second were swaggering, and he raised his voice as he joined the area where Talan, Idristan and Silvaineaux waited for him. 

“This is ridiculous.” He stated in a voice that carried, too loud for the short distance between them. “Dueling over the honour of some half-breed mongrel?” 

Idristan’s head was the first to whip up, anger apparent in his gaze as he took a half-step forward. This was precisely why he’d challenged this bastard the first time, and now he was repeating it again. Where his husband could hear him, again? His gaze went briefly to Talan, and then he turned back to his opponent.

“To first blood." He declared, unable to keep the hostility from his tone. The man had agreed to the duel and showed up, so clearly he intended to fight. Silvaineaux’s voice cut through whatever protest the man had been about to bluster out in reply.

“Perhaps if you were were a man of better breeding yourself you wouldn't feel such a need to cast aspersions on the parentage of others.” He said, tone cold and clipped in his highborn accent. The disdain not reflected in that was instead visible in his sapphire and amber eyes. The other nobleman flushed an angry red at the implications, but made no move to rush and challenge Silvaineaux as well

Talan had been silent this entire time, watching the group of them as they prepared and took positions across from one another. He hadn’t seen a formal duel fought yet. At least, not one like this. Heard of, but never witnessed.

One of his arms slid up to wrap around Aline’s neck as he buried his face into her feathers and she trilled at him. The mild winter storm was already easing, leaving way for the dim lines of sunset to peer through the breaking clouds.

Blades were drawn as Idristan and the man faced off from one another, and he watched his husband’s jade eyes become focused. He could just draw blood and end it quickly.

But that second levy of insults? For the man, it was going to be to first blood. And it was clear from his posture that Idristan would hear his shouts of pain before he ever lay a scratch on him.

#ffxivwrite2023 #ffxivwrite #[ twilight ] #Talan #Idristan #Silvaineaux

[reddevil-xiv]

T. Redwing

—𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒔

Name: Talia / Talan Redwing Nicknames: Devil Age: ??? Appears late-twenties. Nameday: 26th Sun of the 6th Astral Moon Race: Ishgardian Half-Elezen (Fae) Gender: Genderqueer Orientation: Pansexual Profession: Magitek Engineer, Sniper, Marksman & Security Lead with Priarch Enterprises

—𝒑𝒉𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒂𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒔

Hair: Fire red, mid back. Eyes: Right eye violet, left eye green. / Right eye green, left eye violet. Skin: Porcelain pale / warmly bronzed with greyish undertones. Tattoos/scars: They are devoid of scarring, though she possesses several tattoos in celestial themed patterns. These never seem to stay quite the same, with the starry constellations shifting and moving from time to time.

—𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚

Parents: Jeulerant Sergenaux (Father), Meallaire Sergenaux (Step-Mother), Tiamara Shadoweaver (Birth Mother; deceased) Siblings: Darien Sergenaux (Fraternal Twin), several other half-siblings or siblings through adoption. Grandparents: Maternal: Lady Blanchefleur Sanguemont & Ser Oliver Redwing (both deceased). Great-Great Grandfather: Arafel de Courcelle. Paternal: ??? In-laws and Other: Plenty of extended family thanks to connections to House Courcelle and House Sanguemont. Spouses: Caedrian Sombrenuit (as Talia), Idristan Agache (as Talan). Children: Tisiphon Sombrenuit (son), Alecto Sombrenuit (son) & Megaera Sombrenuit (daughter). Pets: 'Bitsy', a magitek bit hand crafted when she was a child. 'Posie', a living mossball created by Kuni Muinvel who has very sharp teeth.

—𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒔

Abilities: Talia is exceptionally skilled with guns at all ranges, though they excel best with a marksman or sniper rifle and has made her living for a long time with those skills. She is a passable combatant with a fencing rapier, and knows quite a bit of magic from the extensive and often brutal training she had to undergo during her early life. She has all of the abilities of a celestial fae of the Court of Midnight, primarily specializing in illusion magic.

—𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒔

Most Positive Trait: Fiercely loyal and as trustworthy as anyone could imagine a faerie to be. Most Negative Trait: Exceptional self-depreciation and low self-esteem.

—𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆𝒔

Colors: Red, Black, Silver, Green, Violet Smells: Amber, leather, metal, roses, ozone Textures: Leather, polished metal, gunpowder, feathers Drinks: Scotch, Coffee, Ishgardian tea

—𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒔

Smokes: Frequently; usually some type of blended cigarette flavored with clove. Drinks: Less excessively than she used to, but still more than should be healthy. Drugs: Frequently; mostly either the edible or smokable kind. Sometimes somnus, often more rare drugs made by friends. Mount Issuance: Aline, a light grey war chocobo that was bred from the Rosaire stables, purchased a few short years ago from Silvaineaux. Don't mind the slight fae influence there. Otherwise; Reaper, a magitek reaper broken down and repurposed into a motorcycle capable of flight and outfitted with an intelligence core to give it semi autonomy. Been Arrested: More than once, but usually for drunken or disorderly conduct after some barfight or another.

Tagged by: @houserosaire Thank you so very much friend! Tagging: Everyone I would have tagged has been tagged already. But just for some peer pressure: @blisteringstar, @roses-and-grimoires, @liminal-storage, @thedarknesssings. Tag me if you do this so I can see it!

#[ the devil within ] #[ bathed in twilight ]

[azurevoltage]

FFXIVWrite Participation Prize!

For @houserosaire 's character, Baron Silvaineaux de Rosaire. So much fun to work on this one! Thanks for letting me draw your WoL 💙!

MAJOR thanks to @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast for organising this every year!

#ffxivwrite2022 #ffxivwriteprizes #my art

[blisteringstar]

Character Summary: Grian/Inwa

Alias/nicknames. Real name: Grian, also known as: Sw'inwa Raen, Inwa, Yamazaki Kouki, Little Fox, Mage of the Blistering Sun, The Negotiator, Compassion

Gender. He/Him

Age. 26-ish, 20th Sun of the Fifth Umbral Moon (Oct. 20th)

Zodiac. Libra (Nald'thal)

Abilities + talents. A mage who has studied conjury and thaumaturgy, he specializes in elemental magic and healing. He is also good at Onmyoudo and far eastern priest practices due to his work as a priest. Currently, he is learning other methods such as soul magic, summoning carbuncles, changing his body, and other forms of magic.

outside of magic, there is: studying aetherology, gathering and creating his own tea, dancing, and negotiating when necessary. .

Alignment. lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / neutral / evil / true

Religion. Inwa works as a priest in Hingashi, but outside of that he doesn't follow any actual religions

Sins. envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath

Virtues. charity / chastity / diligence / humility / justice / kindness / patience

Languages. speaks Hingan/Far Eastern at a native level (first language), Fluent in Steppe and Common, Business level Sharlayan, can understand sailor speak

Family. Erdenechimeg Kha (adopted brother), Sabri Bhasin (adopted parent), Enkai (adopted parent), Arsceva (birth mother), Gilvain (birth father), Helivant (uncle), Kieros (uncle), Angellos (maybe uncle), Isolvar (a bastard who shares blood), Idristan (cousin and Isolvar's son)

Friends. Talia Redwing and Silvaineaux Rosaire are his closest friends and the people he trusts unquestioningly, Latika'a comes after that, and then all of Priarch, his boss, and the other Secariots, most people he has ever met who haven't tried to kill him, he did even force friendship on Emet-Selch once.

Sexuality. heterosexual / bisexual / pansexual / homosexual / demisexual / asexual / unsure / other

Relationship. single / partnered / married / widowed / open relationship / divorced / not ready for dating yet / it’s complicated

Libido. sex god / very high / high / average / low / very low / non-existent (this depends on the time of year)

Build. slender / average / athletic / muscular / curvy / other

Hair. white / blonde / brunette / red / black

Eyes. brown / blue / gray / green / black / other (red)

Skin. pale / fair / olive / light brown / brown / dark / other

Height. 5'1 and a half, 155 cms

Scars. All of his scars are freshly gone! His tattoo is also gone. Dying gave him a fresh body.

dogs or cats || birds or bugs || snakes or spiders || coffee or tea || ice cream or cake || fruits or vegetables || sandwich or soup || magic or melee || sword shield dagger or bow || summer or winter || spring or autumn || past or future

A few songs that remind you of them: Oh god no I am terrible at this my mind is suddenly blank and I no longer remember what music is

#sw'inwa raen #ffxiv oc #final fantasy xiv

[thedarknesssings]

Prompt 11 - Letters

Prompt 11: Free Write - FFXIV Write 2022 Characters:  Viper, mentions of the Rosaires @houserosaire

The metal tip of his fountain pen taps against the glass inkwell.  His gaze rests on the blank page, mind turning over and over the things he wants to say.  Soon enough the pen meets the paper:

Silvaineaux,

I wanted to let you know I received your gift.  I thought to perhaps let you know in person, but life’s been a bit all over lately.  

I am not sure anything would have changed had things ended any other way.  I knew going in that Seraphin would have to wind up with someone of worth, and a Gelmorran trader was sure not about to meet that lofty goal.  All things I am sure you know.  Doesn’t change how I feel about him.  

Pretty sure I’ve been lucky enough to learn about love a couple of times and probably will learn more in the years to come.  I missed Seraphin like crazy, so thank you.  I admit that when my travels take me north, I have continued to stay in the cabin he and I shared when I was up that way.  It’s nice to have something of  his that I can take with me.

I’m also sorry.  I’m sorry for being an ass and making your life hard.  I’m sorry for lying to you then and now.

 -  Viper

#ffxivwrite2022 #prompt 11 #ffxiv writers #letters to Silvain #Viper

[houserosaire]

Silvaineaux in his outfit for Priarch's Starlight party. He only regretted not wearing armor a little.

#Silvaineaux #Silvaineaux Rosaire #my screenshots

[dawning-star]

I took any number of screenshots yesterday at the earlier parts of what was a Starlight gathering for Priarch, but this is one of my two favorites. Featuring exclusively @houserosaire and @bookbornexiv. Also Sui’s chicken. 

#ffxiv #ffxiv screenshots #silvaineaux rosaire #sui bian #these two give me life #so I give them screenshots #♥ #I'll post up the other fave soon #neither of them feature Rinalys either lol #but I love taking shots of friends #so it pans out

[idanwyn-et-al]

(XIV||22-25): Soliloquy. (Extra Credit!)

(Continued from here.) (♪)

As the wagon trundled on, she found herself wishing the Inquisitor would speak to her. Chastisement would be preferable to the black iron cable of tense silence. He probably knew her desires, and thus kept his counsel. She met his eyes once more, then turned to look through a small gap in the heavy waxed-wool cloth that shielded the wagon’s interior from the worst of the snows outside.

The guilty heart rattleth its chains the loudest, taught the Enchiridion, and her heart was a cacophony of handbells within the chantry of her ribcage. She was guilty of heresy; her magicks had put all of Ishgard in danger twice, though she hadn’t known that at the time. If she could go back and change it, would she?

No. Though she perish for her sins, Ishgard would know that betimes, the risks incurred when acquiring new knowledge was the cost for its rewards.

---Previously, in Fallgourd Float:---

"So. You would hear the litany of charges, or my defense against them?" Anne-Sophie’s question disrupted the peace of the late summer afternoon. She regretted doing so, but she knew their fairly-companionable silence could not last forever.

Silvaineaux studied her thoughtfully. “Did you think you were near enough the border to be out of danger?” he inquired. “I am surely not the only knight of Ishgard who travels so far afield these days. As to the charges… I would hear both. I cannot understand your defense without hearing that of which you are accused.”

Ser Bale looked away,  the tattletale flush of embarrassment crossing her tan cheeks. "U-um. Well, I did actually think that, with most of the forces focused on Garlemald, a-and, the Empyreum, and, um...well, I thought I could free myself of that dreadful Temple Knight armor sooner rather than later. It still smells of the karakul-crisp snacks I favored in my barracks days!"

Ser Rosaire nodded in agreement. “Garlemald and the Empyreum do occupy the bulk of the forces, it’s likely true, but with the gates between Coerthas and the Shroud open now I suspect I am not the only person you might find traveling on his own errands. In any case…” He lifted his hands in a small shrug. “You did not treat with the dragons during the War, did you?”

"I did not,” she replied quite firmly, her nervous stuttering giving way to a scholar's certainty. "I served my time, as all do. I lost friends. I learned the truth behind the war...and...it galvanized my heresy." She got to her feet, unable to sit still when truly thinking; a waterwheel in motion, moving the rivers of knowledge through her mind. "Tell me, Ser Rosaire. When you served, what drove you?"

Silvaineaux’s stiffness eased just a little with the denial, though he did not yet speak until she posed him a question. There was a momentary silence before he answered but the words, when they came, fell fluidly enough. “Duty, I suppose. Chivalry. Honor. The love for my home and the people I left behind and my desire to protect all that I could with everything in me. What drove you?"

Anne-Sophie absorbed his words, nodding along, the brilliant plume in her hat catching dust in the light. "Chivalry, in its truest form. Honor, too, for my family. Duty, to make my magicked blade known to others. These ideals were...somewhat sullied on the field of battle. Have you this experience, Ser Rosaire? Fighting for the ideals we knights swear to, in Halone's sight," she makes the Sign of the Spear here, a reflex, "and yet...finding the battlefield to be full of cowards? Of liars and thieves, conscripted only because they *must* *serve*?" She chopped her left hand into her right palm for emphasis on those last two words.

The Wildwood looked at her steadily. “I fought in the War,” he said quietly. “I commanded men, and I watched a number of them die. Of course I saw that it was not all heroics from some tale, bright and glorious. I know that not all who fought did so willingly or for reasons like my own. And even those who went with all the best in their hearts… battle is something you cannot truly know until you stand in it. Perhaps not all met it as they thought they would.”

She nodded again, keeping his mismatched gaze as she paced the weathered floor of the gazebo. "And those men you commanded; did they, too, grow up with the ideals we were raised with in the Pillars? Did they, too, seek to either become a knight, or serve until they died screaming, their guts steaming on the snow, half-cauterized by drachenfeuer?!" Her exclamation turned a few curious heads from near the aetheryte; she silently chided herself for her outburst.

“Some did, perhaps,” he said quietly. “Even those not from the Pillars. Even in the Brume they have stories. But some, too, did not. They bled the same. They died the same.” There was no emotion in his words, perhaps deliberately so, each syllable deliberately crisply shaped, as steady and calm as the lines of his face. Only his odd-hued gaze revealed anything more, some hint of haunting grief, a rather distant look as if he saw again the crimson of blood on snow.

Anne-Sophie reads his grief; it mirrors her own, schooled to impassivity over years. "And then, you still held your ideals? After all you witnessed?"

“Should I not?” he asked simply, finally rising to his feet as if whatever he kept pent up behind the armor he wore and the calm of his face could no longer entirely bear stillness. “If I let go of that, then what is left?”

The Midlander feels the weight of that question; the burden of a forest of broken lances, of bloodied Dravanian hides. Aiming her right index finger towards his chest, the signet ring of House Bale on the digit caught the light. "That was the start of my so-called heresy, Ser." Letting her arm drop to her side, she began to pace the boards again. "Once upon a time...", she intones; the start of a prayer for her, perhaps the truest prayer her heart knows. She half-smiled, then asked, "You are familiar with the faerie tales, yes?"

Silvaineaux’s brows lifted in some small surprise, both at her vehemence and at the words perhaps. But as she continued he folded his arms across his chest. “I am,” he said. “My brother Honore has a great love for such.”

"Then perhaps I shall tell you a tale that Honore could put to pen. If you are willing to bend a falcon-tipped ear to such 'heresy'?"

His left hand jerked just a little at the words, almost as if he would reach to touch that ear clasp as it was mentioned. His hands settled after a moment and he nodded. “I did ask,” he pointed out. “Tell me how war and ideals led you into trouble with the Church.”

Nodding assent, she took a moment to collect herself. She closed her eyes, drew her hands to center. At her side, the Fury's-Looking-Glass glowed brightly for a brief moment. When she opened her eyes and recited her soliloquy, it is in the precise manner of a Scholasticate student presenting their thesis....because that is what she was, and is. "Once upon a time, there was a Mystic Knight. She was born to a minor House that largely claimed its towers due to their ability to produce Azure Dragoons every few generations, despite being Midlanders; something the High Houses suffered for her line's utility. This Knight's family had an estate in western Coerthas, back when it was green...and she loved it. The comfort of leaded-glass windows ensconcing libraries; her family's sacred duty, to keep knowledge useful to Ishgard, always." Here, she paused her word-river’s flow to gauge his reaction.

Silvaineaux stood almost perfectly still as he listened, and yet despite his stillness and his silence there was no question at all that he was listening. His attention was fully focused on her face as she spoke, his gaze perhaps almost disconcertingly intent. “Suos Cultores Scientia Coronat,” he said quietly when he had paused; the words of House Bale. “I too remember summers. Though mysticism was never the strength of my own House.” House Rosaire’s strength was perhaps readily apparent in the height and breadth of his own armored form.

Her eyes widened as he spoke the words; too, her earrings and signet ring coruscated the ambient afternoon light in response, for just a moment. "The strength of your own House...this knight in our tale would be interested in learning. Because that is all she has ever done; learn, and apply her knowledge." She continued her restless pacing, back and forth, then paused at one point to look out over the waters; a family of ducks navigated the mossy piers. "Ser Rosaire has given his reasons for serving. The Hyuran knight's were much the same. Chivalry. Duty. Honor. And yet...when she served her tours of duty, she came home finding those ideals lacking in her fellows-in-arms. She sought out a Knight, pure and true, that lived once upon a time. And...the faeries guided her to this Knight."

Silvaineaux offered a small smile. “I did my share of learning and applying,” he said. “Though what I was schooled in, aside from combat, was simply tactics. And…” But there he paused and fell silent, stepping over to stand at his polite distance and look out over the waters in turn. “So you wanted to seek a knight of truly righteous heart?” he asked quietly. “And then the faeries got you into trouble as they are wont to do?” But questions spoken he looked from the water back at her, clearly curious to hear the rest of the story rather than his own guesses at how it had gone.

Anne-Sophie, ever-distractable, looked over her shoulder at him. "What tactics carry you forward, Ser?" It is asked in earnest.

The Elezen chuckled just a little at the question. It was a brief sound, almost as if it had been surprised out of him. “Ahhh, the way forward,” he said quietly. “I suppose we all struggled with that most of all after the war, in our own ways? None of my military histories or tactical treatises had a word to say on it. And I certainly never expected to have to learn how to live after the war. It had been my intent to serve for the duration of my life. I can tell you what carries me forward now, but it may not be what would carry you.”

"I would hear what carries you now, before I share the rest of this Knight's tale. Lest you think her mad." The ducks on the water quack-quacked; hopefully not a summary judgment of her mental fitness.

Silvaineaux looked away for a moment, out across the water and then deeper into the Shroud. “In some ways I suppose the things that carry me forward are the things that carried me into war to begin with…” he said slowly. “Duty. Honor. Chivalry. Love.” The last word was spoken very softly but perhaps fell all the more heavily because of it. “I only know how to fight for what seems right. So that is what I do.”

"Love..." Anne-Sophie folded her right hand into a fist, pressing it against all the armor and fabric between her skin and her chest. "Love." She is like any other Ishgardian in this; there is armor, and there is the flesh it covers, rarely seen. Gathering her thoughts, she continued. "...this Knight, having seen the ennui of her fellows-in-arms, sought knowledge. She sought stories. And she tried to find this perfect Knight. Again, and again, she tried; alone in her Tower, choking on the potential, suffocating on its nearness, wounded by its perpetual distance across an almost-unknowable expanse. And then...she found him. In the mirror, singing. A faerie guided her, as you have surmised. This journey nearly killed our fair Knight. A fool, with long red hair, a backpack, and armor from a House that might as well have been sunk by the Fuath for all the good it did her."

Silvaineaux listened, his eyes slowly swinging back from their vigil over the distant Shroud to settle on the Knight offering him her story. He offered no words of question or judgment, and if he ought to have found a tale of journeys with faeries strange it did not show by so much as a flicker of his expression. “And then what happened?” he asked quietly. “When you found your perfect knight?”

"Once upon a time," she invoked this again, to distance herself from the knight in the tale, "our fair Knight found the Other. Encased in stone; she brought him to life. They loved one another. She learned of his world. And..." she paused here, and when she spoke again, her voice was thick with unshed tears, "...his world was worse than hers. He, this knight of Voeburt, returned to stone because all he knew, he had lost in a flood of Light! And...so our fair Knight returned to Ishgard. By her estimation, it was two autumns later, but by the Observatorium's, nine days had passed. Nine days between when a great pillar of aether erupted from her House's tower, and then another when She returned, falling like a comet to the gardens below."

The Elezen still listened intently, though when he noticed the roughness in her voice his own eyes turned out over the water once more, tactfully offering her protection from his direct gaze. For several moments after she had finished he remained thus still and silent. “Was it worth it?” he asked at length.

The Mystic Knight collected herself, swallowing several times, eyes fluttering beneath lowered lashes. "I do not know," she replied at last. As her eyes opened, she looked to her fellow Ser first, then to the water, seeking ever the destination its banks prescribe it. "At the time, I thought...yes. I utilized high magicks and confirmed a theory; that there are other shards, versions of our world that we may visit. And yet...ah, I have not finished the Knight's story.” Anne-Sophie took a deep breath, her throat sore, but she was nearly done now. "...when the Knight returned home, she spent moons in recovery. Her family deflected questions, and...and once she was well, she decided the best path was to seek adventure with friends outside of Ishgard. To...to perhaps seek purpose beside escape. And yet....she left her family behind, and they could not defend her forever. And she lived...?" She leaves this hanging, hopeful. Anne-Sophie has no 'happily ever after'; to her, the best possible ending is merely escaping Witchdrop.

“Yet you made quite an uproar,” Silvaineaux murmured. And if perhaps her words had not been quite the answer he sought, he did not press further. Instead he listened, keeping his own silent counsel until she had finished, then at last he turned to look down at her again. “Your life was never in any danger from me unless you had given me cause to fight for my own.” He said quietly. “As to the charges of heresy…” He frowned. “I do not profess to understand fully the laws of the Shroud or the rules of their Matron.” Yet somehow, when he mentioned that foreign goddess, something that might have been almost a smile showed in his eyes. “But I believe you have only committed heresy in the lands of Ishgard. It is not within the bounds of my authority to apprehend you here.”

Ser Bale turned her eyes up to him, her face scribbled with confusion. "But...you do think I...that what I did was heretical?"

Silvaineaux looked thoughtfully around them, this time not just over the Shroud but perhaps more fixedly at the piers around them and back toward the street and the opening of the gazebo where Joyeux still kept his watch. He spent a fair moment on that careful study of their surrounds, and when he did at last speak again his voice was quiet, low enough that it would only reach their own ears. “I am not a priest nor any theological authority. It is not within my power to say whether or not what you did was heresy,” he said slowly. “Nor indeed even to fully define what heresy is. But I can say that if it was it is not a heresy that concerns me. If you had during the war turned on your own people to aid those who were then our enemies… that I would care about. This…it does not sound to me as if you did anyone any real harm. Save perhaps yourself.”

The scholarly knight opened her mouth as if to offer a riposte, then closed it, turning to look at the river. "I have harmed my House with my actions, but I take the meaning of your words. If it were not for the prominence of Estinien, I...ah." She shook her head. "But I never did Ishgard harm. This, I swear. I wished only to find the ideal of chivalry...and I did.” She muttered, as an afterthought, "I could have perhaps warned the Observatorium...but would it...?"

“So you may have,” he conceded. “But not beyond all repair. Things are not quite as they once were. This is a storm your House may weather. They will not execute the whole of them saving only the smallest child as they did my brother’s former House.” He looked at her. “I would have said the perfect knight did not exist except as something we can strive toward,” he mused. “But no, I do not think your actions harmed Ishgard.”

Coral-red rays dappled through the trees as sun and horizon met for their nightly council, the pair continuing their conversation until the stars filled the firmament. By the time Silvaineaux and Joyeux took their leave, Anne-Sophie was left equal parts stunned---he was a Baron! Baron de Rosaire! Not a mere Ser! Felix would push her into Witchdrop himself if he knew!---and comforted. As she got Vendredi settled for the night, booked her own room at the Bobbing Cork with meals included, the waterwheel of her mind never once stopped turning.

Perhaps there was hope. If one such as the Baron de Rosaire thought her cause was negotiable, then...might other noble peers see it the same way? 

When she slept, she dreamed of home; a pleasant dream, save for the empty Inquisitor’s robes that hung in place of House Bale’s banners.

((Like yesterday’s post, this one includes @houserosaire​ ‘s Silvaineaux! His dialogue and descriptions are their writing, occasionally lightly-edited for the narrative flow, and I am grateful again for such a cool scene.))

(Continued here!)

#FFxivWrite2022 #my writing #Anne-Sophie Bale #XIV Write 22 Anne-Sophie Story #The Trial of Ser Bale #rp snippets #Silvaineaux Rosaire #others' writing #Prompt 25 #Soliloquy

[liminal-storage]

[2 of 2]

Annnnd more screenshots from Priarch’s “Prom AU” anniversary party event!

I think I got everyone but Sui and Nyr, because my focus was dying very quickly this evening. It was a ton of fun regardless! 

#ffxiv #screenshots #silvaineaux rosaire #idristan agache #louvel roche #latika'a renaz #okuni tomioka #talia sergenaux

[mimble-sparklepudding]

Lalafellin Limericks 2023.

Jess Varlineau (@sasslett)

Reckless Ijinixxi (@pinxli)

Baron Silvaineaux de Rosaire (@houserosaire)

Reika Tsukihana (@reikatsukihana)

Makhali Khatayin (@dragonsongmakhali)

Resi Aria (@elfie-kitten)

Edmont Saphiraux Leveilleur (@scholarlostintime)

Mizuki de Borel (nee Motte) (@pumpkinmagekupo)

Talion Graves (@talion-graves)

Nanari Ququri (@hikinghydaelyn)

Enna Iahay (@dedicatedtomoonlighting)

Cimarra Skylark (@cimarraskylark)

Cadu D'Syrcus (@spotofmummery)

Xynal Valeroyant (@qxynalvaleroyantb)

If you're interested in following more ffxiv OC blogs then please check out the examples above. All have fantastic characters and are produced by very nice (and highly talented) people. Silly poetry optional!

#lalafellin limericks #ffxiv writing #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv oc #silly poetry #ff14 #ff14 ffxiv #ffxiv #final fantasy 14