#also Khenbish

[talesfromthegameff14]

Once

Once, Aya would have watched his mate swaying through the motions of cooking dinner.  He would have gazed upon the man adoringly as sun filtered through the kitchen windows to sparkle in the dark golden curls that ran down the Seeker’s back.  Were those curls longer now?  Were they neat or messy?  Were they still damp from an earlier bath or had they dried into ringlets to bounce perfectly in sync with Tolemy’s movements?  Once, he would have seen the boy balanced on his mate’s hip.  He would have smiled to himself as their youngest dozed against the shorter man, the babe only content when he was held.  What was the toddler doing now?  Was he watching dinner being made or was he busy tangling the tawny curls up into helpful braids that would have to be gently combed out at the end of the day?  How much bigger was he? Did his hair match either of his parents? How about his eyes? 

Once, Aya would have joined his son while Mede fit the pieces together of the newest puzzle Melody had gifted him on the floor by the table nearby.  He would have used the silent gestures of hunt speak to follow the boy’s thoughts as he worked out the problem before him.  Was he working on a new puzzle or redoing an old one?  What pictures did Mede favor now?  Was he quicker at putting the puzzles together or was he doing ones with more and smaller pieces?  Did he miss the conversations as much as Aya did?  Did he know that the man loved him as much as always?   Once, he would have poked Terbish with his tail as she snuck about the area trying to be sneaky.  At least some things hadn’t changed, Aya’s tail flicking out to do just that as she tried to come around the edge of the counter to swipe a roti off the platter before it made it to the table for the meal.  He didn’t see the grin aimed up at him when no scolding came for sneaking an early snack, but he did hear the thwap of a far fluffier tail impacting the girl’s hand just hard enough to make her fumble the bread so she had to think fast to catch it before it hit the ground. Now, Aya followed the ebb and flow of family life through the sounds of living and the colors of their souls.  He could see how Nekhi’s inner self was constantly changing as the toddler grew every day.  He could feel the warmth of Tolemy’s body as the man walked by with the fragrant tray of curried dzo that caused the xaela’s stomach to rumble in anticipation. He could take the tray of roti and fruit off of the counter before Terbish got to it all and count the steps to the table to set it down for family dinner. Now, he could ruffle Mede’s ears gently to pull the boy’s attention from his puzzle and to signal that it was time to eat instead of time to play.  He could take his turn holding Nekhi, so Tolemy could eat the meal he made in peace and not have to juggle the attention seeking geko’te and his food.  He could relax into the seat and do his best to not wince whenever Nekhi grabbed a horn to pull himself up closer to Aya’s face to plant a kiss on his father’s cheek.  Now, Aya had the life he always wanted in the cold, unforgiving nights spent alone in the depths of the Uyagir caves, or hiding in a bush on the steppes, or huddling in a cleft of a rock waiting for a Garlean patrol to go by.  It wasn’t how he dreamed it would be.  There was no watching the sunrise over the Ruby Sea with Tolemy in his arms.  There was no way to admire the drawings hung on the kitchen cabinets and see how they changed year to year.  He couldn’t compliment Terbish on whatever outrageous color combination she put together to wear or get lost in the beauty of Tolemy’s eyes when before they cuddled up for a nap while the kids did the same.  Now, that he’s healed? Aya can’t find the bitterness that once plagued him, for he has love to hold tight to every day.  He can’t see it, but he can feel it and hear it and know it within his soul. For once, it’s enough. 

[Tolemy is written by @ala-mhinyan]

#ffxiv rp #oc stories #ayanga uyagir #also khenbish #no gods no editing #just family things

[talenlee]

USP-08: August's Custom Cards

New Post has been published on PRESS.exe: USP-08: August's Custom Cards

The Masqued shed their old identities to become anyone; known mostly for masks they wear that distinguish them from normal partygoers on the Palace Boats. The Faceless have masks of wood, bone, and dirt, or create faces that look like animals just because they know it is hard, otherwise, to tell where to look when you talk to them. Some take on forms designed to express an identity that demonstrates their skill, their aesthetic sense. But then there are those, in these same magics, who have their identities shriven from them – people who need magical aid to restore themselves to being a person again, people who somehow are there, but not, manifested to the world but done so without an identity. It is a strange thing to have every name, and stranger still to have none.

Warning: Wizards employees, this post contains unsolicited designs of custom magic cards.

The theme of August was tricks. Tricks is a pretty broad group of things you can represent in the game, of course; a bunch of the cards were tricky by involving manifests (which let you do tricky things). Some were tricky because they invoked specific classic magic tricks. Some are tricky because they have changeling and enable a whole lot of different ideas in a little way. And some are tricks because the spell is something other than what it looks like.

Looking at these cards I’ve made I find myself kind of struggling to express how proud I am of what they represent in my head, but also, so afraid that there’s no clear vision for you, an outsider, of how well they work. Does this convey the right flavour? Am I overdoing this? Is it obvious what this is based on name and mechanics? Ah well, we’ll see.

In this flavour space, I think of the manifests as either proto-faceless, things that have not yet worked out how to have a identity, or failed Masqued, things that gave up their identity but weren’t strong enough to handle what happened. Again, like Changeling, this is two different ways of examining the same mechanic.

Quynn is the entrenched leader of the Masqued and possibly their first leader. A dedicated faceless manipulator, Quynn has spent so long orchestrating plans across identities amongst all the different factions of the Palace boats that Quynn has long since lost track of who is or isn’t on whose side, and that anything that renders these factions at peace with one another is not to be trusted.

Markhor is a sphinx living on the ice palace. They are an absolute pain in the ass; thery genuinely think the best way to convey information is to make it hard to understand because then you value it more when you solved it. Markhor is sure they are the smartest person in the room. They are possibly right. It doesn’t matter, they are just also very annoying.

Khenbish is a Temur planeswalker, who is stuck in the swirld of Ullaine’s reckless love. They believe in mysteries for their own sake, and exchange names for ideas. They are largely not that interested in what’s going on in this world, but it just so happens their home world’s morph magic and these wandering manifests are similar enough.

Aysun is a vampire lord meant to patrol the territory of the Outlands docks, there to keep the Barrens Scourged. She doesn’t want to, and thinks that’s stupid, and she’s not sure why. It’s probably because the assassination attempt she survived was done with a chunk of the Horned King’s horn, and now she has an ever-growing connection to the violent, primal part of nature that wants to feed. She’s disdainful of the Palace boats, and she has no idea how her loyalties will fall in the coming days.

Zyru is the prince of the Faceless. He’s not in charge of them – he’s just one of them so possessed of style and flair (and with such a pattern of behaviour) that Faceless happily regard him as their prince. Zyru is known for appearing in places, usually feasts and parties, and then rumbling someone who thought they could handle what the faerie-boy was about to deal out. Zyru’s technically got a side in this war, but most of all, he’s here to have fun.

Nil is the third of the Ravenous Hounds. The Hounds are meant to represent forces of nature trying to make death mean something – consuming the dead and cleaning up the work of planeswalkers. While Ole Doorscar attacks your life, and Psoglav feasts on bodies, it’s Nil who eats the soul, ripping away what you thought made you who you are.

And then finally, there’s Visha. Visha is a strange construct that lives at the Palace of the Dead. Periodically, Visha emerges, issues a proclamation and returns inside. Nobody understands what Visha is doing this for or why, but it’s now much more worrying when Visha appears and doesn’t go back inside, instead throwing some enormous porcelain hands.

I feel like I might spend more time than usual on single, specific card narratives this time, just because so many of these cards stand out in my mind. I can see how in the end of the design, a bunch of these cards’ relationship to tricks may be a bit obscure – like a Killer Approach is a fairly generic term for initiating a good magic trick. Still, there are some I think of as real treats!

Demask deserves special mention, as it is pushing the absolute limits of card space, in my mind. It was a sorcery originally, but the wording got larger and larger, until I opted for an aura (which also gives some counterplay). I had to get the wording base off a card called Dream Leash from Ravnica, which has a really odd wording because of templating changes since its original appearance.

Inviting Guest may hold a record for the most space on a card saved by avoiding reminder text. If it was a real card, it would also be the only card (that I could find) that has the word manifest on it without the reminder text for manifests (which makes sense; manifests are a complicated mechanic). In my mind, I think of the changeling as ‘Shion’ because the art reminds me of a friend’s OC (though the character is obviously a lot more flamboyant and rambunctuous than her.

There are two cards here that are secretly alchemy cards in disguise, or at least, that’s how they started. The Tide-Weaver multiplist is one, but the much cheekier one (in my opinion) is the Masque of Naught, which is meant to fulfill the role of the Juggernaut Peddler. It took a lot of wording iterations to pull that one down, including a bunch of very short names to try and save space.

The Usurper’s Palace (USP) is a collection of Custom Magic cards made with the general structure of a commander draft set. The cards are posted, one per day with different themes every month, to the Custom Magic subreddit, on my Mastodon and Cohost. Follow along for more!

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#2023CustomMagicCards #CustomMagicCards #UsurperSPalace

#2023 Custom Magic Cards #Custom Magic Cards #Usurper's Palace #Games #Magic: The Gathering

[xaracosmia]

ꕥ — WELCOME TO MARE COSMIA, NERGUI SARNAI. 🌗

ꕥ  — OOC INFORMATION;

name / alias: Cassi age: 20+ pronouns: she/he ooc contact: universaiwill on twitter, milkdrinker9000 on tumblr other characters in xc: Fusa-O-Kanu, Ramlethal Valentine

ꕥ  — IC INFORMATION;

name: Nergui Sarnai age: 29 pronouns: she/he series: Final Fantasy XIV canon point: Post-Endwalker (6.28) app triggers: parental/familial death

personality:

Outwardly, she might seem crass at times and a bit egotistical at first, but she’s not that bad once you get past the hardheadedness and stubbornness and chronic older sister syndrome and feigned stupidity and… well, she might be that bad. She makes no effort to hide her disdain for anyone, and would rather act abrasively than put up a friendly front towards those she decides she does not like. Moody is a nicer way to put it, and her demeanor can change swiftly depending on who she’s talking to. Also, she just really likes lying. She thinks it's funny. She refuses to show emotions she deems weak or too exposing - she insists it is what has kept her alive so long on her own.

Despite the occasional upfront rudeness, she is genuinely nice to a select few, in her own way. She enjoys leaving gifts and making food for her loved ones, even though she tends to continue outwardly being (playfully) rude to them. She can be a bit hard to warm up to, and can seem impossible to get along with to some, but she will go to extreme lengths for those select few she considers close.

something your muse struggles with: Being stubborn. She has chosen a hill to die on, and she is NOT going to budge. She cannot accept the idea that she is wrong about something. She’s not wrong, you are. your muse’s greatest strength: A very strong conviction. She knows what she wants, and she’s going to get what she wants. She is passionate and has a strong drive, though this can spill over into stubbornness.

history / background:

Nergui was raised as a member of the proud Sarnai tribe, a long-standing tribe which forwent the traditional herd of horses and sheep to focus their energy into falconry. They raised the smaller steppe hawks for hunting, along with huge porter birds, hawks big enough for a person to ride on the back of across the steppes. They would trade the already trained birds or the spoils of their hunts for other resources produced and procured by the other tribes with more traditional livestock.

Shortly after she received one of her first Echo visions at 11 - her gift being that of foresight - the Sarnai iloh was razed and destroyed by a fellow Xaela tribe, the Dotharl. She was left alone with her brothers, with Muunokhoi at 6, and Khenbish at only 3.

She quickly realized that there were no hand-outs on the Azim Steppe, so she took up a lance, and learned at a young age to care for and raise both herself and her brothers, with the occasional help from a sympathetic tribe of victims of similar fates. She retained a sizeable amount of knowledge she had learned of hawk training, and used it to her advantage, avoiding conflict by calling on the already trained hawks left by her tribe. The first hawk she trained herself was Sarangerel, a bird she hand raised from an egg when she was 13.

When she was 16, she took upon herself the responsibilities of a khatun, and reestablished the Sarnai as a tribe, albeit one of very few members. By the time she was in her 20's, she established a name for both herself and her tribe on the steppes as a small, yet formidable group of hunters. She regularly took mark bounties from Clan Centurio around Othard, establishing herself under the epithet "Lastbloom".

She doesn’t often leave the steppe, and if she does, it is only briefly. Though they are in a tribe together, Nergui and her brothers do not always travel together. She would often wander Othard, or occasionally, Eorzea or Ilsabard, on her own without them, reuniting a few days or weeks later. Ever protective of them, she wants nothing more than to return home to them.

powers / abilities:

Nergui, as one of Hydaelyn’s chosen, has the Echo. It gives her the ability to predict an attack very shortly before it occurs, as well as protects her from tempering by primals. Her Echo manifests in the form of short, vague glimpses of the future, most frequently occurring in dreams. The visions are not always of important events, and are sometimes confusing and hazy, so she often mistakes them for regular dreams, and they do not always serve to benefit her. Despite her possession of the Echo, she is not a Warrior of Light, or a Scion. She has always hidden it, and refused to discuss it.

Nergui is functionally a dragoon, with a few less things. She wields a spear and specializes in very high jumps and dives, though she is not Ishgardian nor does she have any relation to dragons. As such, she is a “custom” class called a falcon diver. This is basically just raptor themed dragoon instead of dragons.

Jump-based Attacks: By manipulating air aether around her, she can launch herself extremely high into the air, before divebombing a target spear-first. She can also utilize fire aether to cause a circle of flames on impact and deal damage to multiple targets. This can also be used to disengage and launch herself backwards, away from a target.

Free Loft - She can throw her spear, carried by aetherial hawks, and deal damage to all enemies in a straight line up to 15 yards in front of her, before the spear is returned to her. This is based off of the in-game action “Wyrmwind Thrust”.

Eyes of the Hawk - Grants right eye to herself, minorly increasing her own damage dealt. Can grant left eye to an ally, similarly increasing their own damage. Lasts 20 seconds. This is based off of the in-game action “Dragon Sight”.

inherent abilities:

Xaela Characteristics: Partially covered in hardened black scales, which give her a minor resistance to physical damage in those covered areas. She is naturally nocturnal, and can see in the dark. She keeps her claws long and her horns sharp in case she is blindsided without her weapon.

Sarnai Lineage: Her tribe has, over generations and generations, taken on traits useful for their long history of falconry. Her arms and most of her hands are completely covered in scales, as well as having a very long, large tail, useful for balancing on a porter hawk.

Falconry Knowledge: Trained from a very young age in the handling of birds of prey, both smaller hunting birds and large porter birds.

Martial Prowess: While most of her experience in fighting is with a spear, she can hold her own with her bare hands, despite, or perhaps because of, her small stature.

items / weapons: 

Rakshasa Lance - Customized with dropped feathers from her birds.

Sarangerel - A hunting hawk, at a healthy, somewhat old age. The first bird Nergui hand-raised on her own.

Uyanga - A yol, which is a large, eagle-like bird for flying upon the back of, which is trained by all Xaela warriors worth their salt. The bird was defeated and trained when Nergui was only a teenager, and remains fiercely loyal to her.

starting ability: Jump-based Attacks starting item: Rakshasa Lance

extra: 

voted mare cosmias #1 female manipulator for 28 years straight

discord id: LASTBLOOM.#9999 passcode: hi cassi. lol. oli updated your app btw. 

#mare cosmia #mun: cassi #xc application

[ellengilmore]

Khenbish, swinging through the woods to join the party: “HELLO YES WOULD YOU LIKE TO TRAVEL WITH A VERY OLD ELF WHO ONLY KNOWS WHAT IS HAPPENING SIXTY PERCENT OF THE TIME? YOU CAN NOT SAY NO”

#ttrpg #Dungeons and Dragons #DnD 5e #Elf #rogue #scout rogue #Khenbish #finally I post something that isn't Essex (my beloved) #Vetra's retiring for now to help her friend run a country #so enter.... Khenbish!! #she's gonna kill things with a crossbow and never ever use contractions in a sentence! #in Khenbish's defense she's also much less likely to die than Vetra and is an excellent survivalist #I've also got some sketches lined up to post later ^^

[idealistsinc]

23 // shuffle

wc: 739

When Yesugen had gone, Charlotte reclined in her chair, crossed her arms, and mustered her best accusatory pout. “You let her win,” she said.

It was nearly surreal to see Khenbish—Khaizo, now, she supposed—under the garish and glimmering lights of the Manderville Gold Saucer. Against the monochromatic backdrop of Coerthas, Khaizo had always seemed a man etched from stone, as cold and distant as Dravania’s mountain peaks. But here, warmed from drink, with tinny music whining in their ears and the glare from the game machines bleaching his hair more gray than black, Charlotte could hardly reconcile the person in her memory with the one before her.

After all, Khenbish of the Vengeful Lance never smiled.

Khaizo began to reshuffle the deck, his face utterly blank. “No, I didn’t.”

“I was watching the discard pile. You could have won, like, three turns ago.” Thancred had taught her that particular trick, although she often found herself too…preoccupied to pay attention to counting cards. “Not that I blame you. She’s adorable.”

Charlotte hadn’t been sure what to think when Yesugen had opened the door, a serious and robust girl with a slow smile and a broken horn. Young. Perhaps a little too serious. It had taken a few drinks for her to seem to enjoy herself; she had grinned like a child when she’d put down her winning hand, and Khaizo, whom Charlotte had also managed to coax (read: browbeat) into having a drink or two, had smiled with her like he had no idea he was doing it.

He didn’t contradict her, she noticed, although his brow had started to furrow. Maybe now that he’d been plied with alcohol, Charlotte could get some more information out of him. “Where did you even find this girl?”

“Ask her,” said Khaizo, clipped.

Charlotte groaned. “Come on. You have to tell me something. She’s from Othard, isn’t she? Is that Doman you’re speaking with her? How old is she?”

Khaizo put the deck, shuffled, down on the table with more force than was strictly necessary. “Yes, she is from Othard,” he said. “She speaks Xaelan. And…”

He didn’t continue. After a few moments, Charlotte realized it wasn’t his usual “freeze people out until they stopped asking” tactic. She gaped. “You don’t even know!? And she’s been living with you for, what, six months—”

“Two,” said Khaizo, in a tone like Charlotte had leapt over the table with a wrench to pull out his teeth.

“—and you haven’t even bothered to ask how old—Matron’s tits, you’re hopeless.”  Charlotte craned her neck to see if Yesugen had come back and saw her lingering at the edge of the room, talking with great focus to a white-haired Miqo’te woman in the Gold Saucer uniform. She flagged Yesugen down, and she at last returned to the table. “Gen, how old are you?”

Yesugen blinked, then said, with enough confidence that Charlotte doubted she had misremembered the Eorzean number, “Sixteen. Why?”

“Just—wondering.” Charlotte desperately tried to remember how many drinks she’d ordered for a sixteen-year-old girl; Khaizo, dealing a new round of cards like his life depended on it, was not doing much better. Yesugen wandered back to her seat in apparent confusion.

“So…we play again?”

Perhaps Yesugen would be more receptive. Charlotte leaned her elbows onto the table, testing the waters. “How did you meet Khaizo? I don’t think either of you have said. Was it at the stables?”

“No,” said Yesugen. “We meet in Ul’dah on the street. He help me with having work—he work there already, so then we work together.”

Did she have nowhere else to go? “And you stay with him?”

She tilted her head. “You know that.”

Gods, Yesugen was nearly as bad as Khaizo. At least she had the excuse of a language barrier. “I mean, do you like it?” Charlotte leaned farther forward, shielding her mouth conspiratorially. “You might not have noticed, but he’s kind of grumpy.”

She thought maybe she heard Khaizo sigh, just a little. Yesugen looked at her carefully, though, and said, with long pauses between as if she was weighing her words, “Ul’dah is different. I learn things, still, but—I guess I like it.”

This wasn’t getting anywhere. Charlotte settled back and checked her hand for the new round.

“Khaizo,” she said, trying hard not to smile. “Where’s your head, old man? One too many on the cards.”

Khaizo snatched it out of her hands, scowling profusely.

charlotte & khaizo belong to @mimiorzea

#ffxivwrite2020 #ffxiv khaizo erebos #ffxiv charlotte leroux #ffxiv cheyesugen oryokuln #my writing #me coopting mimi's characters again #they're just so fun #i kind of got lost in this one halfway through but i'd already committed so #here we are

[aiotabek]

New Phone Meme

I was tagged by @georgipopovich-voiceblog​ to show my Lock Screen, Home Page, Favorite picture of myself, and favorite picture taken by me

They’re not very imaginative..

Lock Screen

(To nobody’s surprise.. a Harley ) 

Home Page

(Also no surprise - The Medeu - where I got my start. It reminds me of my roots and of home.) 

Favorite picture of Me

(A candid shot by on of my friends that turned out REALLY well on accident. )

Favorite Picture taken BY Me

(Great Uncle Khenbish on a freezing morning getting the horses ready for the tourists before they woke up. I was helping out over the break between seasons. I cannot put into words how unbelievably fucking cold it was.)

Tagging @yuriokotehok​ , @phichit-chuu​, and @thekingjayjay​

[cryptcombat]

PLEASE make a p*thologic oc i would love to see ur interpretation of it!! would they b from the capitol, the steppe or the town?

OOf im glad you wanna know but as i said before idk much about the game so far (ive seen 2 analysis videos and im currently watching a playthrough so all my knowledge (which isn't alot) stems from that dsjkffsd)

i have a few ideas...... idk if they're consistent or make sense with the canon story/setting yet. i kind of wanna make a witch character who used to be part of the kin but left to live in a small cabin on her own outside of the town. she goes by a fake name "khenbish" which means nobody, her real name is "sarnai" which means rose. she gives her real name only to those she deems worthy. she's also a painter, believes her dreams are prophetic and that she must keep on painting them to discover secrets of some sort. her cabin is literally full of paintings she doesn't quite understand yet. like most of my ocs she's a lonely fuck who never leaves her home, so she sends out her birds to oversee the town lmao. if the player decides to visit her she asks you to do some weird shit for her like giving her some of their blood or blood of others so she can paint with it, then asks you to sleep beside and share their dream together with her to reveal something about themselves.

#answered #these are just weird incomplete ideas #also @ anon please pm me i need to talk to someone who actually knows the game jfsdkdf #Anonymous

[silver-wields-a-pen]

Have you used picrew or anything to make your ocs? What do they look like? If you dont have photos can you describe them?

Thanks for the utterly awesome ask!! 

I’ve done a couple of picrews for Nyima since she’s my favourite (shhhh don’t tell the others) but she’s hard to get right since she’s blue and there’s not a lot of options for that. 

@tiravi made a great piece of Nyima with her bf, Tundra, that I love to pieces and is the closest representation of how she looks. She so pretty They’re both characters in @illthdar‘s book series, first one, Illthdar: Guardians of Las, is out now ^=^

Moving onto my precious derps for Brotherhood! Oh, have I got pretties for them! I’m not good with graphics and stuff. They end up looking clunky a lot of the time, but I love how this set turned out so I use them as title cards for extracts. Each one has the main couple, but they’re not the only ocs I’ve got. I’ve got sosososososo many! I have a whole file dedicated to profiles for this bunch of dorks lool

First up, Divinely Volatile!

Ryang Ji-hoon and Fen Yueliang. Ji-hoon does actually look at lot like Choi Siwon who is his face claim, so much so that he gets mistaken for him a lot of the time. It’s a running joke since he’s an assassin and being recognised in any respect is bad for business, but he’s too vain to change his face. He has black hair and warm brown eyes that always look a little regretful.Yueliang has long straight black hair and darker brown eyes than Ji-hoon. She looks sharp and definitely is, but she’s also kind and a bit of a leap before she looks person, but luckily the amount of army training she’s had saves her from most disasters.

Next book planned is Deadly Lineage.

Ambrose Fewtree and Vera Ucci. Ambrose is meant to look nondescript and forgettable because that’s how he operates best. He has reddish hair and grey/green eyes and he’s 5′11 and slender. His name is the most standout thing about him and even then most people forget it seconds after he leaves. And that includes the prosthetic left arm. Yup, he has a prosthetic because shit happens even to them. It’s super neat though with lots of hidden compartments for poisons, and he has more than one and wears them like fashion accessories. He’s a Bulgarian Romani and speaks a ton of languages - second only to Utamara Ndiaye.Vera has silver screen looks and a figure to match, which doesn’t fit in the age of instagram and contouring. She’s 5′4 with reddish brown hair that she hates because what even is that colour called? And she has hazel eyes. She’s Sardinian by blood, but grew up in Terni, Italy. (She’s also a princess, but more of that another time.)

Next up is Cold Snap.

Tan Shun & Sarnai Ramchaa. Tan Shun knows he’s handsome and well dressed and also lethal af. He’s the Brotherhood’s best assassin and never puts a foot out of line. His father was a first generation Brotherhood, meaning he was born into it. The head of the Brotherhood, Hisakawa Kagegorou actually adopted Shun as his son because he was close to his father and thought Shun would have maximum potential. He does. He’s not the only adopted child of Kagegorou’s, but he’s the one he holds up to the others as an example. He’s 5′9 and wears lifts in his shoes to make himself taller. He’s got short black hair and obsidian coloured eyes.Sarnai is Mongolian and a photojournalist. She’s tough and no nonsense, but also fun and a bit reckless. She’s not the most beautiful woman around, but she’s got a certain something that attracts people to her. She’s 5′8 with fluffy black hair and greyish eyes.

Next up, Scorched Desire.

Mohammed al Sadat & Sorcha Dunaid. Mo is from Egypt and he’s the most charming person ever. The scars on his face claim’s face are also present on his, but for different reasons, and they don’t damage his appeal one bit! He likes to say he’s the Egyptian James Bond, only better because he has a 100% success rate. He’s got neatly cropped black hair and deep brown eyes.Sorcha’s Scottish, with red hair and brown eyes, very pale skin and tall. She looks like a model - and used to be one - but she’s got so much intelligence and wicked wit that anyone who underestimates her regrets it.

Next up is Heavenly Kodachi!

Hisakawa Tadamasa & Aurora McCabb. Tada’s Japanese and at 26 the youngest son of Hisakawa Kagegorou. He wears his black hair slicked back, but often loses control over it by the end of the day - has a habit of running his hands through it without realising. He has very dark brown eyes that look almost black and he’s short at 5′8, but isn’t vain enough to wear lifts like Shun.Aurora (Rory) is Native American, has tanned skin and short black hair that she bleaches and then dyes bright pink because pink. Her eyes are grey and she’s always very cheerful and happy, even when she’s not. 

Nearly done - too many ocs, too many wips loolNext is Broken Oaths!

Hisakawa Yoshihiro & Ina Howell. Yoshi is Tada’s older brother and far more neatly presented than his mess of a brother. His short black hair never misbehaves, and his obsidian eyes are always partially concealed by black framed glasses. He looks like a teacher - technically he is. He’s 5′9 and slender, like all the Hisakawa family.Ina hails from Wales, has milky-toned skin, mid-brown shoulder-length hair and blue eyes. She’s a doctor researching genetic diseases at a teaching and research hospital in Seattle. 

Last but not least!Smudged Iron

Calum McCabb & Glenn Oake. Calum isn’t an assassin, unlike all the other guys so far. He’s Aurora’s older brother, so he’s also Native American. His skin tone is darker than his sister’s, he has very long black hair that he plaits when he’s working, and grey eyes. He’s 5′10, broad and muscular from manual labour he does helping out on his family’s property and business or just from working out.Glenn is the only female assassin main character (there’s other minor ones). She’s got long, ginger hair, green eyes, pale skin and freckled. She’s tall and gangly looking and can pass for a boy if she makes an effort - it comes in handy.

WHEW! That’s all the main ocs from the series! It’s a lot, I know, but I love them all ^=^ and I didn’t even get round to the side characters! 

Utamara Ndiaye, Anna Orlov, Baracus van Dien, Gi Joo-won, Blane Everheart, Magnolia Everheart, Ghenha Reece, Ifana Reece, Lewys Howell, Fen Chen, Yang Yawen, Baek Hyun, Ryang Jong-su, Kim Ha-yun, Ryang Hye-jin, Cai Hao, Airdyle Boxer, Roger Oake,  Cassidy Boxer, Victor Cole, McKerrick McCabb, Quinn McCabb, Adaline Moore, Alorah McCabb, Sechen Ramchaa, Batbayar Yamaat, Altansarnai Taijuid, Khenbish Daguur, Ana Breban, Iulien Breban, Laura Fewtree, Marku Fewtree, Paul Fewtree, Ilena Fewtree, Sammie Fewtree, Grey Fewtree, Tristan Fewtree, Mara Fewtree, Nina Fewtree, Archduke Galileo Amici, Ettore Amici, Grandduchess Claudia Amici Capozzi, Vyas Noon, Maurizio Motta, Bella Motta, Alicia Belittore, Muminah al Sadat, Domhnull MacCearraich, Belias Anwielder, Go Eren, Iyawa Adamu, Akil al Sadat, Hisakawa Kagegorou, Hisakawa Sadaharu, Hisakawa Hideki, James Baker, Nacht Graben, Nahm Seojun 

and this list is still growing and I have face claims for every single person on here, and profiles. 

Yes, I’m totally insane lool

#writeblr #writeblr community #asks #oc asks #Brotherhood #listing all my ocs like this makes me realise how crazy this is lool #someone save me

[aveis-the-red]

Aveis Walker - Mateus

full name. Aveis Walker. Not her real name.  pronunciation. A-vis. nicknames. Red, Sister, Ohkti, Little Bird, Dear Heart. (Some of these aren’t necessarily just for her, but have been used in addressing her.) height. 5′5″. age. 32. deity.  Halone. languages. Common.

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

hair colour.  Red with dark tips. It’s usually curly but she’s recently decided to straighten it for a while. eye colour.   Green. skin tone.  Fair. body type. Lean but fit, especially in regards to her legs. Accent. Ishgardian. Dominant hand. Right. Posture. Confident. Scars. Many, with most of them being on her hands and arms. The most prominent are the large claw marks on her left side that span from ribs to thigh.   Accessories. It’s not really an accessory, but she hardly goes anywhere anymore without her lightning-aspected rapier Sparky.  most noticeable features. Her red hair. 

BASIC BACKSTORY

Aveis was born and raised in a minor noble house in Ishgard. It was decided when she was a mere child that she would be married off to the youngest son of the House that their family was sworn. She was to be brought up to become a proper noble wife and lady of the house, which led to a very restricted and stifled childhood. Her childhood led her to develop a bitter and sour view of relationships, marriage, religion and tradition.  Unwilling to accept what her parents wanted, Aveis ran from her family home on her wedding day, changed her name, and joined the fight in the Dragonsong War under a different House.  She fought for several years before being honorably discharged and joined her former Captain in becoming adventurers. Along the way Learanc fought against the primal Ramuh and came out with an Orb of Levin, and had a rapier crafted with the primal’s essence imbued within it. Despite her feelings towards relationships, she developed romantic inclinations towards her former Captain, but never gave voice to them. Learanc died at Carteneau, a fight Aveis doesn’t remember. She woke up in Mor Dhona badly injured and with Learanc’s beloved rapier with her.   

She continued to roam as an adventurer, learning the rapier in Learanc’s memory, which led her as far as Doma as they struggled to win their freedom from the Garlean Empire. Her trip home led her to meeting Khenbish Uyagir, now Ayanga.  Since meeting and befriending Khen Aveis has more so the less settled in the Lavender Beds, having garnered a family of “heathens” regarded and known as the Pack.  Faced with her first heartbreak, she’s once again saying “no fucking way” to love and relationships. She is now focusing her energy on opening a custom tailoring shop in Kugane, loving her family, fighting alongside Pack and having all the buck wild fun she used to have. 

occupation. Seamstress, fighting member of Pack, brat. current residence. Owns a home in the Lavender Beds. pet. Do goldfish count?  relationship status. Single. financial status.  She does alright for herself. weapons.  Sparky, the lightning-aspected rapier. She also usually wears a few foci in the form of jewelry, and enjoys carrying a knife somewhere on her person. vices. Alcohol (whiskey and beer), sex, mako, dancing drunk and topless at the Quicksand, tall darkheaded Elezen, 

SEX & ROMANCE.

sexual orientation. Straight, though Sana and Zareen have recently made her wonder if that’s incorrect to an extent preferred Emotional Role. Dominant. preferred Sexual Role. Bratty submissive. turn On’s. men that are tall, dark headed, assertive, dominant, confident, sarcastic, touchy-feely, affectionate, witty, “bad”, a little dangerous...for the most part. Exceptions can happen. For women, well, she’s unsure...but she finds Sana and Zareen very attractive. turn Off’s. whining, extreme neediness, goody-goodies, noble Ishgardians, those in relationships (though she’s working on that regarding those that have open door policies), softness (in the sense that someone won’t stand up for themselves). love Language. For her family, it’s more about actions than anything else. This means making them clothes, bringing them gifts, that sort of thing.   relationship Tendencies. She gave a relationship a try, and it unfortunately didn’t work out. She’s sworn them off for now, as she just can’t deal with it at the moment. You can be her friend, you can be a side thing, but to hell with having a lover with any claim to her and her freedom. Will she ever be open to try again? Ehh, it’s hard to say, but it sure isn’t going to be any time soon.

MISCELLANEOUS. hobbies to pass the time. weaving, knitting, yarn spinning, crocheting, tailoring, drinking tea, drinking alcohol, partying at the Mason, being a brat mental illness. definitely. physical illness. N/A left or right brain. right self-confidence level. She acts pretty confident, and there are several skills she has that she’s very confident in, but there are plenty of things regarding the concept of family and love right under her skin that actually has her a mess inside. vulnerabilities. Her family. Also Sparky is the only memento of Learanc, so if anything were to happen to it she’d flip.  

feel free to send anonymous or direct asks for further information

RP HOOKS.

Born and raised in Ishgard.

Fought in the Dragonsong War.

Frequents Ul’dah.

Pretty well known for her tailoring ability.

A member of Pack, a FC for hire dedicated to fighting voidsent and other nasties.

Was a wandering adventurer for several years.

Is seen about Kugane and Shirogane fairly often.

+open to plotting

OOC

- I’m over 30, and do not wish to rp with anyone under the age of 18. Due to my work schedule it’s usually easier to get a hold of me and RP via discord. My handle is Usi#3331. I promise I don’t bite. 

- I got permission to use this setup!

#aveis walker

[moonlit-nightingale]

.:RP:. Cursed

Warning(s): Trigger warnings for suicide and blood.

Characters: Saranqerel ‘Sari’ Qalli (male Xaela), Akio Obinata (male Xaela), Botan Kurenai (female Raen)

Origin Date: 22 Feb 20

“Death is easy. To live is the most painful thing I could imagine and I’m weak and no longer willing to fight.” —Hannah Wright

Everything is in place. Sari has left his farewell letters and wrapped up his affairs. And so he goes to depart in the quietest way. Though a new friend picks up the signs too late...perhaps the Qalli’s story isn’t over yet.

(Note: This is from an RP session. So there is a back and forth of writers. A - in between paragraphs indicate a change in narrator.)

< Hingan >

> Xaelic <

----

A letter and small box would have been left outside Akio's room a sennight after his and Sari's last talk. Enclosed within the envelope are two documents. One is a letter, one is an official document endorsed by a Gridanian embassy, complete with a corn-yellow seal. It states that Akio is, legally, Enqtani’s legal guardian. There is also a small box like those used to sell the tokens at the charm counter.

My friend,

I know we haven’t known each other long so please forgive my selfish requests especially after I’ve placed such a burden on your shoulders. Enqtani is loved by many at the temple, however I haven’t seen her attach to anyone as closely as you. It has been a short time but a child just knows. The sealed document is official documentation that you are now Tani’s guardian. It may just be a piece of paper but with it I’m trusting you to look after her best interests in my absence.

You have been kind and a wonderful friend. And I have the utmost faith that you will be a kind and wonderful father for Tani. You mentioned once that she should know her roots. There is little to tell. I found her abandoned on the Steppe during a hunt. All I can surmise is that she was a child conceived unwillingly. She has features or the Oronir tribe which were once the leaders of the Steppe and still hold themselves in high authority over others. Not all of them are bad but it is a privileged tribe. I expect you can follow my path in thinking of what may have occurred. If Tani wants to see the Steppe with her own eyes one day, seek out Khenbish of the Buduga at the town of Reunion. He is a healer and a good man. If you can’t find him, search for Yesulun of the Qestir and her mate Khaljar of the Oronir. They are among my dearest friends even if we have parted ways. Unfortunately I am unsure of their whereabouts but their names should be known in Reunion.

Ah, but I’ve rambled on. I wish to make this process as easy as possible for you. Please rely on the others if needed. Mr. Aoki is a stern man but he has looked after Tani many times when I needed assistance.

It is little payment for what I ask for you, but I hope this gift is acceptable. Thank you, Akio, and I thank you on behalf of Tani.

Winds carry you,

-S.Q.

Inside the box, carved from a reddish wood, was a crane. Its wings are spread, every feather meticulously detailed in its carving despite the small size as its long neck and head were raised high in a cry. The figure could rest on a grown man’s palm.

-

Akio's shift for guard duty had ended earlier than expected, that night. And though he was tired, the Eastern Xaela had been in a surprisingly good mood, that ever-present smile a little more genuine as he took long, measured strides to his quarters. A good night's rest after some meditation sounded absolutely splendid to the man.

The presence of the letter and box caused the samurai to pause, however, tail quivering just slightly in alarm as he watched it with keen black eyes. But with heightened guard, there was little worry of it being any sort of trap or bait; he kneeled, slowly, picking it all up and entering his room.

In the privacy of his quarters, he allowed the mask to slip from his face; a frown pulled at his expression as he opened the box, looking over the figure with a delicate awe, and then the letter, reading over the words swiftly.

What laced through his blood could only be described as ice-cold panic as he realized what these words meant.

A Hingan snarl dropped from his lips as he spun around on his heel, movement swift as he threw open the door and bolted down the hall towards Sari's quarters. No doubt the man would want to do it there; the clinic was far too impersonal, and even from their short time, he knew Sari would never wish to inconvenience the clinic staff or distress the patients there.

Thank the Kami he was relieved when he was- it gave him some small hope that this time he may not be too late.

-

But no, the room would be empty if he should knock and try to enter. The wards' rooms couldn't be locked. It was part of the temple's design. Why would a ward of this place have secrets to hide? The futon would be folded neatly in a corner and the room immaculate. Sari never really had too many personal effects and it seemed even those were gone.

The only thing left was a small bundle of letters, left for whoever may have peeked their head in.

-

Another swear, and he turned on his heel, heading for the clinic itself. If Sari wasn't in there... He had no idea where to look. But he wouldn't stop looking.

-

His rush nearly made the clinic's night time attendant eep loudly. There was something about an empty clinic in the dead of the night just just spooked this particular Auri young lady.

"Obinata-san, kami help me." She rested a hand over her chest.

-

Akio paused, examining the lady for a long moment; the mask was back on in an instant, though the smile was strained, showing just how much of a rush she was in.

"Have you seen Sari-san?" he asked quickly, tone leaving little room for questions.

-

That tone has the girl nearly eep once more. She shook her head. "Ah, I mean, he came in earlier for a few moments to tidy up and then left about a bell ago."

-

Tidy up? Why on earth would he need to tidy up the clinic?

"Did he say where he was going? This is- he must be found." He'd apologize to the poor girl properly later- no doubt he was an intimidating sight, agitated as he was.

"He is planning to kill himself."

-

She covered her mouth at those words. "Sari-san? But..." He was always so kind! And quick to help when she'd taken over the clinic duties just a sennight ago!

"I-I don't know. I thought he was going to visit a patient because he took supplies for the intravenous bags!"

-

"Intra..."

Akio murmured as he went over the word in his mind, taking a moment to translate it before another swear fell from his lips. Without another word to the poor attendant, he spun on his heel and ran out. Where could he be?!

Perhaps he left the temple grounds? But if he did, it made it nearly impossible to find him. Unless...

But Jebe never left Sari's side, and so the little bluebird would be little help, even if Akio could find the bird in time to find Sari to keep him from doing the irreversible. Damn it...

His mind was racing as he ran through the temple grounds, searching for any clues to where the Qalli might have gone.

-

As he went by the gardens, there was angry chirping nearby. At this time of the evening? Odd. It was near the small pond where Sari often took Tani to play when she had excess energy.

The bluebird was puffed in anger, flying about the small cage propped up on a rock. It was placed near the walkway, enough that some attendant would have found it the next morning and not endangering the small bird at all.

-

Akio froze when his horn caught the angry chirping, head snapping over.

The Kami were merciful this day! He rushed over, kneeling down with a soft clicking noise as he fiddled with the latch to open the cage.

"<I am here,>" he said quickly, throwing the cage door open for the little bird. "<Take me to him.>"

-

Oh angry birb was angry. He instantly dive-bombed Akio's face before flying off at a surprisingly quick pace down the stone path that led out of the temple.

-

Akio made a short 'pbbth' sound out of reflex. Hey, he was trying to save the man!

But he didn't have time to be offended at the little angry puffball, instead darting after Jebe as fast as the two of them could go.

-

How could such a small lil blue puffball be so quick? Jebe darted over Shirogane's infrastructure, heading down the slopes towards the beaches. Even then he still flew, heading away from the beach chairs, the awnings, away from what would populated areas in the day.

-

The beach... Water...?

It would be out of the way, for certain, leaving it near impossible to find the body. Was that what he'd wanted?

Akio was nearing breathless as he kept on the tail feathers of the small bird, eyes searching for the Qalli in an almost desperate fashion.

-

Rocks dotted the sand in some of the more remote parts, harder to climb and navigate over, rougher terrain.

And that's where Sari sat motionless. He was leaning against one of the rocks facing the water. The IV line ran to that flesh arm, put in with an expert hand. The sedative bag he'd stolen weeks ago was empty, rigged up over a stick.

At least he could watch the water he enjoyed under the silvery light of the moon as he’d fallen asleep.

-

No no no no no no no no!

Akio felt as if he'd been kicked in the chest by An Yeung, breath leaving him in a wheeze as he scaled over the rocks. Normally, he wouldn't have so much as slipped, but tonight he stumbled once or twice, hands flying out to keep himself moving forward.

"<What have you DONE?!>"

The question came out in Hingan, far harsher than he'd meant it, a near roar as he slid to one knee next to the Qalli. The damnable idiot! The stupid... Poor, pained man.

Akio knew better than to let anger lead him to blame. He knew what this was like. But Sari deserved better. To die like this....

"<You're not dying tonight!>" he hissed sharply.

-

But it appeared to be far too late. Sari was a healer of both traditional and aetherial means. He knew well enough of what would happen with a fast drip of a sedative of this nature. A sleepy death, far more peaceful than what he'd deserved. No mess for others to worry about if his body was found.

He hoped no one found him. That those letters were enough.

But those hopes were gone. His breathing had stilled, no rise and fall of his chest under the Eastern cloth. Silvery hair obscured most of his face, that one eye closed, head lulled against the rock and his shoulder.

Akio had been too late, by far, it seemed.

-

No...

Once more, Akio found himself holding a body in his arms, the Xaela quick to gather the Qalli to him as he tried to check for his pulse, his breathing, anything. Teeth gritted against an all-too familiar pain, he snarled, tail lashing against the sand and rocks. Fingers curled into the fabric, head lowered as long blonde locks fell over both his own face and Sari's chest, forehead pressed to his still breast.

"<No, please,>" he whispered, pleading, begging. It was all far too familiar, and the mask cracked, old wounds bleeding once more as he hunched there.

"<You silent, selfish fool.>"

He knew it wouldn't be heard. Knew the Qalli wouldn't be able to retort.

"<What of Enqtani?!>" he yelled now. "<You were her father! No one will replace you in her life!>"

-

It was quiet for once.

A quiet he used to only be able to find in the peace of the Shroud's embrace, days on his own in the Twelveswood. Soon though, even that place became haunted to his memories. There was always...something. Something to drag the Xaela back to the dark.

So he'd given up fighting it. Fell into sin and the bottle without care.

And it was why he finally had the resolve to fade away. He was a ghost. No one would care. Everyone had their lives, their loved ones, their families. Perhaps he was envious. But he was also glad for them.

So he'd smile and wish them all well, even as he faded from their thoughts. And he'd be left to the grey shadowy mist that had become his life. Ever since that day he'd walked into that empty house, a newborn in his arms.

Ever since he'd knew, with certainty, that a happy ending never awaited a ghost.

'>You fought me with such ferocity before. Where is that beast now?<'

The drums, he knew this from before. Before when they had met, it had been a raging river, blood, and mud.

'>I am most disappointed. I cannot allow my vessel to fade in such a pathetic manner. Show me that ferocity, that fire.<'

And suddenly Sari shot awake, falling to his side and away, retching. Breaths forced into his lungs, some force pushing that deadly toxin from his body in no way that should be possible.

-

Akio let out a small, muffled noise of surprise, eyes widening as he let go and nearly jumped back, hands up. What the...

He'd been dead... Dead! There had been no breath in his breast, no pulse underneath his fingers! And so he stared, wide-eyed and startled. How...?

He didn't speak, hands lowering, before one placed itself gently on the other male's back, some minute attempt at comfort.

-

Oh it burned, it hurt, yet was so unbearably cold at the same time. Shudders wracked his slender frame as he retched again and again into the sand. Toxicity was black on his lips, something having gathered all that poison he'd given himself and thrown it out in some unnatural way.

By the time he stilled, he was breathless, gasping for air and covered in sweat. Still not fully grasping what had happened.

An exhausted look to one arm that propped him up. The IV was still there. Then...what had happened?

-

"<You're alive...>"

If it weren't for the breathless awe and disbelief in Akio's tone, one might think he'd been answering Sari's unspoken question. But he wasn't; he was trying to affirm the truth for himself, in his own eyes. Sari was alive. Somehow, in some way, something had saved him.

Even he knew this shouldn't have been possible. And yet here he was, breathing, if barely. "<Easy, Sari-san, easy.>"

-

Sounds were beginning to return outside of the wild pounding of his heart echoing in his horns. The sound of the waves over the surf, a familiar voice. Sitting up, shaky, he saw Akio at his side.

He rubbed his mouth with a wrist, still feeling that sickening bile there. "...Akio-san... How..."

It was night, he hadn't been...out...long then.

"Why am I not..."

Gods, had he failed at this too? Could he even not kill himself correctly?

-

"You were," came the answer, soft and haunted, but he smiled, despite the pain in his eyes. "And now, you are not... I do not know why. I do not know what happened."

He sighed, pulling off the top part of his kimono to drape it over the Qalli, reaching to gingerly take out the IV. It was freezing out, especially at night by the ocean, but...

He didn't seem to mind, simply holding Sari's arm to stop the bleeding from the injection site.

"Why would you..." he trailed off, hesitating as deep black eyes flitted over to Sari's face.

"... What pain you must endure," he finished with a soft murmur.

-

...why? Why couldn't he even do this right? His throat tightened, foul taste still in his mouth. Had he guessed wrong? No, a full bag at that rate of drip, it couldn't have been metabolized in time for him to live. And if what Akio said was true...

A harsh swallow as the other Xaela tended to him, Sari not fighting it one bit. His own mask was in shambles, magitek hand going to cover his face as a sob escaped.

"...I just wanted it to be over," he strangled out. "I don't want to be here anymore, please."

-

Akio paused at this, a small frown pulling at his features as the mask slipped once more. Ah... What should he do?

He knew that people would need to be informed. The priests, for certain. Perhaps the guard, and the clinic staff. Those who would be able to keep an eye out, an eye on the man.

And...

He knew it was improper, but he'd spend enough time in the West that he was able to cast aside his upbringing's teachings for a moment to simply... pull the man into a tight hug.

"...You are much too desired in this world, to leave it so," he murmured softly.

-

"That's a lie!" was the sharp denial and he wanted to fight the hug so badly but he had no strength to, even more so as the tears flowed from that one blue eye. "They all leave, they always live, no one stays. Love doesn't mean anything. Not with me. I'm all alone."

The words he'd held back for so long, for years, gushed forth without stopping. Every little thought that had passed through his mind, that he wasn't good enough, that he wasn't worthy, that he was unwanted.

-

Akio didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to soothe the pain the Qalli suffered, or how to comfort him. So he simply sat there, for the time being, holding Sari, rocking him back and forth and shushing him gently.

"<You're not alone,>" he answered finally, wiping away those tears with one thumb. "<Through all the pain, you are not alone. Your death would leave a hole in the hearts of many, one that could never be filled again. I know not what words to say to convince you of this truth. I can only speak it plainly.>"

He let out a breath, cradling him as Akio sat there, eyes closing.

"<I'm not lying. I promise this.>"

-

"It is a lie. You're lying. I'm sorry." An instant apology at the accusation but it was true. Everyone lied.

Even as he listened to those Hingan words, his spilling out of words continued in Common.

"He said that, too. He said I'd be safe. That I could cry. That we'd be happy. And that he'd never leave me. It was a lie, again and again it was a lie!"

Voice rising to a wail, uncaring of who heard, how much a mess he was, damn his mask.

-

"<Then he was a liar, and a fool, and he never should have held your heart in his unworthy hands.>"

And still, Akio rocked, gently, like the ocean they sat beside as he held the wailing Qalli, holding him securely in his arms.

"<But you have family. Family, and a child, and friends, all of whom adore you and your presence.>" His words came across far better in Hingan; he didn't mind that Sari spoke in Common. He understood him, and so he could get across his meaning better. That was what mattered, just then, to the Eastern Xaela.

"<I'm sorry that you weren't safe... You deserved to be. You have always deserved to be.>" A small, gently squeeze in that hug, the taller man curling over the smaller just slightly. "<If only I could find him and force him to his knees to beg your forgiveness.>"

-

No no no no no. It was still lies. No one wanted him about unless they needed him for something. And Sari wanted to be angry but he couldn't be. They'd found happiness. He hadn't. He couldn't fault his friends that had found peace.

But it was godsdamned lonely when he'd been so close to the same and it had drifted like smoke through his fingers.

"...n-no. He left because I wasn't..."

Good enough? Worthy?

-

"<Because why...?>" came the gentle prodding, one hand rubbing Sari's back gently.

"<If you say it's because you weren't good enough, then you view yourself too poorly.>"

-

Exhausted, face red with his tears and sorrow, he rested his chin on Akio's shoulder and nodded. It was true. He was disgusting, used, weak. That was why. Not smart enough, strong enough, charming enough, brave enough.

-

"<I refuse to believe that,>" Akio retorted firmly, resting his own chin on Sari's shoulder. "<Whoever this weak-willed  man was...>" He trailed off, shaking his head.

"<I don't have the words to describe the kind of filth he was.>"

-

"No, he..." His hands weakly rested against Akio's back. "...he was good. I just wasn't...meant for him. I trapped him."

That's what the bonding had done. Khabi had seen what a weak person he'd tied himself to. That's why he'd left, right?

-

"<If you simply were not  meant for each other, then why did he not say so?>"

Akio shook his head. "<If he wasn't able to tell you such things, to talk to you about it, he was weak.>" He pulled back, looking at Sari with a firm expression, mouth pulled into a frown as he stared the Qalli in the eye.

"<It is not your fault, Saranqerel.>"

-

...it was. It always would be. Why did everyone always leave? There was only one constant in all of that. Those words threatened to spill out but he was so tired, so frustrated that he couldn't even do this deed right.

Shaking his head, Sari looked to the sand. How could he still be crying?

"Can you..." Shite, he was fighting hiccups. "...leave me here?"

-

"No."

The word was spoken in Common now, as he shook his head. There was no way in the seven Western hells he was about to leave Sari alone right now!

"I am afraid I cannot do that."

-

"Please."

How could he go back now? Everything was in place. Things were finally ready. There was finally going to be quiet.

But there was little fight left in the Qalli as he begged. Just let him rest where he wasn't a burden to anyone.

-

"Iie," he repeated in Hingan. "You may rest with me. But I will not be leaving you alone. This is final."

Akio's tone left little room for argument- or at least that was the intent. He didn't know what else the Qalli might do, but he was damn sure not going to let him try again.

-

"...you'll leave...in time."

That was a guarantee. Just wait it out. Like everyone else. As he relaxed his hold on the other Xaela, his hand brush the hilt of that katana the samurai had at his waist.

A weapon he'd learned to use from someone else that had abandoned him, turned against him. There was a flash of anger somewhere deep and before he knew it, Sari went to draw that blade in a swift motion as he leaned back. Quickly he got to his feet, though stumbling a bit as he did so.

There was the softest 'sorry' as he raised the blade, going to drive it into his chest.

-

Akio swore, and in an instant he was on his feet, surging forward to grab at Sari- the sword, his arm, whatever he could grab.

Likely the sword, and the razor sharp blade would cut into his fingers, a pain he would brush aside in favor of throwing the sword away from the Qalli. "<ENOUGH!>" He bellowed.

-

It was just a bit too late, that magitek arm giving the former Adder the strength advantage.

...yes, pain. But it was nothing he wasn’t used to. The sword impaling him through and through before Akio ripped it from his grasp.

...had it been enough? He sunk back down to his knees in the sand.

-

Akio snarled, throwing the sword away now as he grabbed for Sari. If that was how it would be, then so be it.

He was swearing up a storm that would make a seasoned sailor tremble in fear. His goal would be to pick up the Qalli and rush him back to the shrine.

"<I will NOT have your blood on my blade!!>"

-

No! A return of that snarl from the smaller Xaela.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Anger rising to meet anger. Everything had been arranged. It was time to go. He swiped with the claws of that weaponized arm but he was already feeling faint, unable to fight it when the samurai lifted him from the damp sand.

-

"I will not abandon you," came the snarled reply as he bolted over the sand and rock, booking it as fast as his legs could go.

He needed to call ahead, but his arms were full, and so he simply ran, pushing until his legs burned then pushing further.

-

The anger soon faded as the blood loss began to drain him of such things. Soon his head rested limply against Akio's chest. ...and then again he gasped for breath violently, so much like before.

No no no. Could he...not...

>A small spark of that fire, not nearly enough. Impress me, child of the moon.<

-

Once Akio finally reached the shrine, he burst in through the door, offering a silent apology to the resident Kami. Any damages would be repaired later, the Xaela was on a mission.

He called out for the night clinic as he rushed to it, ground Sari as if he were the one dying.

-

That poor young woman was still there and anxious. But at least she had a good enough head on her shoulders to have things ready for the worst. And when she saw the two Auri men, and that blood, she directed Akio to the closest bed.

"...I can't die," Sari mumbled.

-

"No, you cannot," came the response, though Akio misunderstood what it was Sari had meant, immediately rushing the man to the nearest bed and setting him down, immediately backing up to give the woman room to work

. He looked haunted, tail lashing violently as he stood there. "Anything I can do to help, instruct me."

-

There was the sound of books falling over in the back. Botan had been given a room, and yet...she was asleep under a blanket that was under a pile of books, half beneath the low sitting table. A yawn left her as she stretched herself out and nose wiggled at the scent of blood. The shadows eager, but she stilled them. Least another ghostly movement spook another clinic worker.

She got up, dressed in the standard shrine attire she had stolen from the common rooms. Her wooden sandals clicking on the floor as she approached. "Assistance needed?" She inquired with unblinking eyes. "It seems the answer is 'yes,' but will not invade unless wished for."

That tail was still, lips in a straight line, and eyes unblinking as she stood before the scene without an iota of emotion portrayed.

-

Ah the poor healer never ceased to he spooked by Botan, even after knowing she was there!

"Yes, please. This may require stitches."

Though Sari was obviously dazed by the blood loss, he knew...he knew. Why hadn't he died on the Steppe before being found by Khenbish? Had that plunge in the river, those drums...what Shonkhor had seen.

Not a crazed vision?

-

Akio simply bowed his head and stepped out of the room, remaining out of the way of the two medics as he stood against the wall, closing his eyes.

-

Blearily the Qalli tried to get his bearings. The familiar scent of the clinic. He'd been in here just bells before... His mind was still reeling from the revelation. If that's what it was and not some nonsensical shite.

-

Botan was in the room. No ceremony to the matter. Just pulling out a pouch of the pain killing incense from her sleeve and filling the bronze incensor before lighting it on fire. Then she was sitting over Sari. Her hands resting over that wound in the gut, fingers lingering over it as she focused on the composition of aether and murmured calculations on the fly as she steadily studied Sari's biology through the geometric patterns she etched in her mind.

Every bit of her form was still. The shadows seemed to withdraw, shrinking in towards her and feeding into her power as she focused. They were every bit an extension of the small raen woman.

-

To her eyes, she may have seen the shadow that had curled itself tightly into Sari's aether. Foreign, spread evenly through every aspect of the Xaela and content to be where it was. Oddly dormant, just...there. It was nothing like the near feral aggressive curse of the kitsune that he'd suffered from for a good year. In fact, that curse has been completely obliterated by this new presence.

-

Botan was aware of that presence, but did not disturb it. No. She would simply work around it, add it to her calculations, and apply new formulaic patterns of aether into Sari's own. Those that would encourage flesh to stitch itself together and slow the bleeding. Her brow creased and lips pursed together as calculations were rumbled off.

If it would not allow her to heal him, she would simply brute force her way past it. That or she would show it who the scarier creature was. Not that she thought she could bully something like this...something far older than she; a mere raen youth of twenty-some-turns.

-

Oh the presence didn't fight the healing, no. In fact it held strands of aether close, not letting the flesh fall into death. A threshold of sorts. Sari could very much end up close to death but that final step into the lifestream wouldn't be taken.

-

Interesting.

The work was slowly finished and her fingers pressed against the fabric over the wound. Those digits dipped in blood and eyes open again as she sensed how flesh gave way to her calculus. There was no grin of victory. No whoop of astonishment.

No.

This was peculiar. Curious. The violet false eye with its mandala like patterns fixed on Sari.

"You have ventured far and brought shadow back with you."

The pain killers helped sooth her own pains. A twist in her gut told her she had pushed herself too far aetherically, but she ignored it. That tail ticked and she lifted her hands away to look at the blood. No blinking, just...rubbing fingers against one another.

"Fate is not done with you yet, Saranqerel." Then she looked at the woman. "Clean. Stitch the surface wound that remains."

Then there was a yawn. Botan was ready to retreat back to where she came. Like some horror slinking away into their closet until the next time someone had need of her and her arcanistry.

-

The Auri nurse watched with some nerves. How could one not be unnerved watching Botan work? But she nodded and went straight to work. Ritsuka didn't hire weak-willed employees, after all. Especially for the clinic.

The stitches were made evenly, front and back where the blade had pierced. Then wrappings about his middle. And, in some irony, an IV attached for fluids and antibiotics.

Putting everything away and washing her hands, she went to peek out into the hallway. "Obinata-san, he'll be alright."

-

Akio turned his head, and, mask back in place, he smiled, despite the blood that coated his front. It wasn't anything he was unused to, and so it didn't seem to bother him. At least, now that Sari was okay.

"You have my deepest thanks," he said with a low bow.

-

Botan just looked at Akio. The raen quiet, and unmoving in that moment before her stomach growled to cut into the moment.

All she said: "Beef Udon. Three sets."

-

Akio turned his head to look to the other Raen with a chuckle and another bow. "My thanks to you as well- if it will serve to repay even a small portion of my debt to you, I shall see it done."

He turned then, setting off unless stopped, to go get that Raen some damn beef udon.

-

Botan sat on the stool in the room, and just waited. That tail swishing. Good. Though her attention was fixed on Sari again. Academic curiosity in that gaze.

-

The nurse was sure to return the bow with a smile before returning to the clinic. She had to write everything in the changeover log for the day shift and what supplies had been used...as per Mitsue and Mashuel's rules.

As for Sari, he drifted in and out of awareness. But that gaze on him pulled him more to reality. He tiredly looked over, pale and a mess from his sobbing earlier. "...can you see what it is...?"

-

"A thing of the Steppe. This is what their old knowledge tells me..." A hand lifts and taps one horn. Though the shadows are watching. "Well it is my knowledge now."

This is a reference to the Xaela back in the Steppe she had first aetherically devoured to fix her own aether. With it perfectly assimilated she was back to the pale flesh and red hair rather than that ugly dark complexion she never liked. Not that she was a vain creature. Not like her mess of a dead father.

"It is what kept you alive."

-

"...then it wasn't a nightmare." Slowly he pulled the sheets up to his chin. Ugh he was utterly drained on every other possible level. "I can't die then."

Of course...of course. The one solace he could bring to himself, denied.

-

"Death is not an escape." Botan said in an observant matter. "You simply pass the burden of pain to those you leave behind." A flick of the tail. "Look at your friend who tried so hard to fight to keep you alive too."

-

"...he shouldn't have."

Why? Yes, he and Akio had had some good times. But they'd known each other for a few moons. Why would he...bother?

-

Botan didn't even frown. She just fixed her unblinking gaze on Sari. What a dumb question. The tail flicked and she simply breathed deep of the pain killing smoke.

"Every life is precious, even those that are destined to be eaten." Botan explained. "It's not about the why and the who, it is about the preciousness of that gift. The holiness of that cycle."

-

"I don't want it..."

How was any of this a gift? Being left alone again and again. Never being granted a happy ending...

"...can you check on Obinata-san? I think he hurt his hands earlier."

-

It was just then that Akio entered once more, hands wrapped to keep that blood from getting into the udon.

"I do believe I have a delivery!" he announced, far too cheerful for what had happened and how he'd felt not a quarter bell earlier.

He smiled bright, looking to Botan as he held the noodles. "Where do you want me to put these?"

-

Botan looked at Akio.

There is something broken in this one.

Though she at least kept the thought in her head and didn't blurt it out with the same heavy handed honesty she served Sari. That ivory tail flicked, and hands reached out for the udon. In an instant she had the chop sticks plucking up a swirl of the good beefy udon to take a bite.

Any harsh words of knowledge were lost for now. She would just chew and think. Though she did look at the wrapped hands.

No it required none of her energy, let the other woman handle it.

-

Meanwhile in the bed, Sari had to look away. Hand clenched in the sheets. How could he look at Akio after that?

Fortunately he was saved as the nurse came by after cleanup to see that blood. "Obinata-san! What are you doing? Over here!" She grabbed his wrist, trying to pull him over to a medical station.

-

Akio had opened his mouth, wanting to speak with Sari- but then he was dragged away, and he laughed slightly. It would be easy for him to resist, but he let himself follow as if he were no stronger than a child, tail fluttering behind him.

"Hai hai, my apologies miss!"

-

Botan had a moment where she felt like laughing, but didn't. Though her gaze went back to Sari.

"Fate, the Twelve, the Kami, or whatever has given you something, Sari. An opportunity." She moved chopsticks lazily through the soup, gathering noodles. The fat things rolled around through the beef brother as she seemed to play with her food. "An opportunity that you can take, face them down with, and carve your way through the hell you've been given. The question is," she lifted the roll of noodles hanging from the chopsticks, "will you tear down your tormentors, or let them devour you?"

Those eyes looked to him unblinking. "After all, the thing attached to you does look delicious."

-

"Then take it." There may have been a bit of a snap to his tone.

-

Botan shook her head. "Looking delicious and wanting to eat it are different things." Udon noodles were slurped in not-so-graceful a way. "I want to see you challenge your path, Sari. Show whatever gods there are in this world that you will not sit under their heel no more. That is what I really want, because you're a dear friend not a morsel."

-

"I don't give a shite about any of that!" he snapped, fangs bared.It seemed sorrow had warped to anger.

He covered his face. It was so unlike him to be like this.

No one understood. No one got that he was so bloody tired!

-

Akio, from where he'd been taken by the nurse, looked up. It hadn't been hard to hear that in the quiet of the clinic. How he wanted to go to the poor man's side, offer him some comfort, even if he didn't want it.

A soft sigh escaped him, and he looked down once more, to watch as the Raen woman did her work.

-

Botan shrugged. The girl wasn't going to push back and forth with him, and simply moved to stand. There was a look at Akio, and she just left the room to go back to her hiding place in the back room to finish her noodles and get back to sleeping. It wasn't her place to fix broken minds and hearts after all.

-

The Auri nurse was very obviously troubled with the back and forth, but unsure of what to say. So she kept to bandaging Akio's hands, both disinfected and wrapped firmly.

"There. I know it's difficult but try to limit as much use as you can. Ask for help in tasks, alright?"

-

Akio smiled warmly, tilting his head to the side. "Hai,"  he said with a playful sort of reluctance. "If I must trouble others, then I shall under the doctor's orders." A crooked grin given to the Raen woman, before he stood with a bow of thanks, making his way back to Sari's bedside.

-

The Xaela's anger still simmered but there was no one to direct it towards and it quickly fizzled out as he stared out the window. A cold rain had started, obscuring the moon's light over Shirogane. Depressing. Fitting.

-

"Sari-san..."

The name was soft, gentle, as Akio watched the other Xaela, expression turning sympathetic, perhaps almost sad, if not for that smile staying in place. It ill befitted the scene.

-

That burned side was closest to Akio, hiding the one good eye which closed at the sound of his voice.

Anger that he'd been stopped.

Anger that, even if he hadn't been, it wouldn't have meant anything.

Sorrow that someone had to witness all of that.

It's why Sari had slunk off and away.

"...I'm sorry. You should take some painkillers and rest."

-

"I am not leaving you alone."

Despite the gentle tone, it was, once again, firm. Resolute. Akio simply watched as he sat there, watched the Xaela stare out the window, at the rain.

He wanted to be angry, himself, but he couldn't bring himself to be. He was just.... sad. He wanted to help, even if the two of them were near strangers.

"I will be perfectly fine," he added now, tail curling to one side as  he leaned back, smiling. "It is nothing I have not endured before. Perhaps less so."

The Xaela chuckled, tilting his head to one side.

"....I am sorry to have stopped you, Sari-san..." Once again that quiet, gentle tone. Almost regretful, but not quite.

-

What could he say to that? That he accepted the apology? No.

He'd wanted to go. He still did. But that wasn't an option anymore.

....so what did he say?

"Please don't tell anyone else. I don't want to..." Deal with it.

They'd care for a few moments, fuss over him. Then fade back into their happy lives once more. He didn't want to ne envious, bitter. Sari was glad those he knew had found peace. But...he'd wanted it too.

-

"...You need help."

It was a quiet observation, the Xaela almost frowning. Almost. He couldn't let the mask drop again, not like that. By the Kami....

He lowered his head, hands folded together against his forehead as he stared at the floor. What did he answer with? He couldn't just not tell the priests, or Ritsuka. Sari needed to be put on suicide watch, to keep him from doing it again. He needed help....

He needed to want it first, though, this much Akio knew. It was a universal truth to many problems. Someone who didn't want help would only reject it.

"I am certain you are angry with me," he said softly. "And I am certain that you will be angry with me for my answer. But you must understand, I am bound, by contract and honor, to report this."

-

"Feck honor," was the snap, though he kept staring at the window.

What did honor do? The twisted pride of the Steppe? The samurai code those at Kotodama supposedly adhered to? The Grand Company that had thrown him aside because of something he couldn't control?

-

Akio let out a breath, brow furrowing now.

"I will not throw aside mine to suit the ends of another."

-

Grumbles in Xaelic as Sari rolled over despite the pain of his injury. No, he didn't want to deal with this. He may say something more he'd regret.

Safe from death, perhaps, but not safe from the recovery that came of the incident.

-

Another sigh, and Akio settled back in his chair, arms crossed over his front as he closed his eyes. He likely wouldn't sleep tonight, instead meditating. Some form of rest, while keeping alert.

"I said I would not leave you alone, Sari-san," he said gently. "I mean this, as an oath." And Akio did not break his oaths.

-

"I didn't ask for your oath," was the grumpy mumble as he pulled the blanket over his head.

-

Nor did he ask for acceptance. But he didn't voice this aloud, simply remaining silent now.

-

And silence met silence as Sari tried to sleep. As much as he didn't want to, the stress of high emotions and whatever his body was doing sapped him.

Eventually with the sound of the cold winter rain, his eye shut and he drifted off in the darkness of his blanket lair.

#roleplay

[shamans-of-reeds]

Overgrowth and Dust: Part 1 [RP]

(( Rating: PG-13 ))

(( Genre: Suspense, Mystery ))

(( Cast: @infiniteleftdoesffxiv , @gaillaffxiv , @ritsykitty / @moonlit-nightingale , @the-firetouched and others who don’t have a tumblr or I cannot find it. ))

The Dawn Throne's pennants flutter overhead, the wind tugging them in a rhythmic thwup-thwup-thwup. Overhead a great bird soars, white dusted with a dusky mauve; its screech is something halfway between a chocobo's wark and a dragon's roar. It ignites Dione’s heart.

"Yol," one of their group explains, pointing up and nodding. She looks up too late to see it; a shadow, passing over the pennants, might have been it, though she can't be entirely sure. But the memory of its cry stays with her.

"The tamin' a' th' yol," she murmurs to no one in particular. "In Bardam's Mettle. Why do they want y' t' tame a bird?"

"Proof of fierce of heart." Vachirsukh spoke up in his broken Eorzean. He never had to speak it thus his skill with the words wasn't the best. "Weak hearts can't earn respect." The large Oroniri man was still on babysitting duty for the group but at least they'd returned home.

Home for him at least. He'd taken a few moments to visit his dwelling, his forge, and visit his daughter that had been left in a friend's care. Altani had been sure to stick her stuffed yol plushie into his arms and now he was forced to carry it around, tucked into the sash of his gold fabrics. He didn't have the heart to say no to the young girl.

Vivisha pointedly stays back just enough from the edge of the Throne  and yet she feels drawn to look down and down and over and far, far into the Steppe's sky. What a wondrous place, this Steppe -- full of frights never before felt, but feelings never truly explored.

After a time, she rejoins the group. She clutches her thaumaturge's staff to her chest as if it could keep her from flying away or being picked up by one of the yonder Yols.

"It must be a very tough challenge indeed," she comments quietly. Her usual vivacity is subdued. She is surrounded by unknowns, and is struggling to keep up.

"Only the worthy pass the challenge and proved as warriors of the Steppe." Vachirsukh crossed his arms as he watched the yols soar over the highest levels of the great structure. Their roost was tended up there, as high as could be atop the Throne. It was well-deserved for the fearsome skykin to be as close to the sun as they could!

“<And some are never granted the chance>.” The smooth voice of the Buduga star reader rang out as he approached the group.

Khenbish’s green robes covered far more than any of his brothers. From neck to ankles there was scarcely an inch exposed. His attention moved over the points of life across the landscape of the throne before falling to the edge of the throne.

The blind Buduga strides towards it and stops at the very edge. Pure black eyes gaze over the range he can not see. Aetheric flows were noted and added character to the black landscape he saw, but that was it.

The Oronir's tail simply flicked at those words as he lingered on the edge of the group.

"But why a yol?" Dione pipes up again when next they move, her voice pitched to that exact tone of plaintive inquisitiveness well known to parents and elder siblings alike. "I mean, there are lotsa things you could battle or tame. I were wonderin' if there were a meanin' to it."

"It is said that it was the steed of choice for the great Bardam, as depicted in ancient murals." The voice of a Moks-Noykin accent sounded as Sali trailed along with the group, his little sister Ilakha at his heels, cradling her floral staff. <"Friends, I am happy you've come,"> she voiced, then repeating the line in Common.

Himaa Iloh - or what it was - sat eerily quiet on the horizon before them. The sky was clear but the day was frigidly cool, the air incredibly dry. There wasn't even any footsteps or trails to be seen on the hard ground around the former camp. The grass was sparse but tall.

"Sister Dione," Ilakha began gently as she came over to the individual with a smile. "If only you can have meeted him on better grounds... this is my big brother, Sali." The short male gave a nod, his neck-length hair toyed with by the stiff breeze.

"What we're looking for here may or may not be an easy find, given how worn the place is to the elements," Sali declared, then in Auri. "General artifacts. Weapons, armor, traits on any bodies spotted. Ilakha and I will scout the area for any bandits or signs we've been followed. We'll keep in touch over linkpearls."

As Sali got right to business, Ilakha sullenly glanced to group again. "This site is kind of old. Is grounds the Noykin would go to stop raiders from the base of the Tail Mountains. We not knowed anything 'bout them. Just that they is not from here. What we gather, we can take to Bargujin Khatun of the Noykin." The words were also repeated in Auri to the Oronir and the Buduga.

But Khabataaq would be nowhere near that place. There were far to many people waiting for him there. So he waits out in the Steppes some distance he considers far enough from that Dawn Throne, some safe distance, waiting for the time they were set to meet or some announcement over linkpearl. He watches the Throne as if he could see the dots of people in the distance leaving it, an impossible task from this distance but still he watches, locked in some persistent shiver that doesn't seem willing to leave him. It could be dismissed easily as cold, but Khabataaq knows better. It's nerves, it's worry, it's apprehension about their destination and the things they'll find there. It's odd... and wrong, maybe, that his first contact with his old tribe after all these years would be with those long dead. But after he was told what would be happening today, he knew he didn't have much choice, did he?

Dione is about to ask more questions, but instead her attention is fully consumed by the sight of the distant camp. Though she knows that her people are both nomadic and prone to conflict, and that they're investigating a raid, somewhere inside she'd still expected to see... a living iloh, a thriving community. What they approach now is naught but overgrowth and dust.

So caught up is she in her thoughts that she almost doesn't notice her name being called, jerking suddenly as if from sleep. Turning to the short-- but to her, still impressively tall-- male, she nods in return. "A pleasure," she says with a struggling smile, before falling quiet as she listens to his words, her heart only growing more chilled at each one.

Are we looking for bodies of your people, or mine? she fears to ask, and won't. Instead, she plants her feet in the dirt and takes a breath. This too is the Steppe, she repeats to herself instead.

"The feeling is mutual," Sali replied to Dione. "However, it'd be more so if we weren't to traverse a site of the deceased." His weight shifted between his feet, hands migrating to his hips. "About twenty summers ago this was a camping ground for the Himaa. That is, until the Jhungid tribe passed through this area and absorbed those that lived here. Since the Kharlu met with the Jhungid for war south of here an epoch ago, the site has only been used as grazing land for the Noykin. They'd used to camp here in the late bells of summer. Northwest of here are common sites for laying bodies for the bearded vultures and seedkin. For religious reasons, the rest of the iloh was never ransacked."

Ilakha's expression was sullen all through Sali's explanation of the history. Her grip on her staff twisted slightly as she looked about the group. "We doing this to help the living, though," she declared. "Is important we get our finds to Bargujin Khatun as proof the attackers comed from somewhere 'round here like the Tsubegen said is possible, not the Oroq valley."

Dione nods upon that mention of religion, glad at least that that much respect had been offered the fallen. Whatever else we Xaela are, she thinks, we have our honour. "So d' ya want me to take a look around th' northwest?" she asks, growing bolder. "Or investigate th' iloh, if it's untouched?"

Ilakha opted to raise her own linkpearl, pausing at Dione's question. A weary smile was offered. "There is no need, Sister. You just need to look 'bout the iloh today. Is large... er, was large, so am glad there are a few of you here." Just then, she spoke into the linkpearl; contacting Khabataaq. "Brother... we finded Himaa Iloh. I will pin our coordinates to you. Linkpearl will alert you when you getting close." Sali bowed his head to Ilakha before looking to the group, expression stern but gently so. "Does this make sense to everyone?"

Khabataaq jumps at the sound of the sudden chime of the linkpearl. He scowls crossly to himself. Settle down. Calm down. Stop being so jumpy. "<Y-Yes, yeah, I'm... I'm on my way.>" He pushes himself off the ground, gathering the few items he'd taken out of his bag and stowing them away, before trotting off in the vague direction of the Iloh.

She nods again, looking towards the iloh. "Weapons, armor, artifacts. Signs a' who th'... bodies might be, if there are any." Her hand goes to her hip; beneath the voluminous folds of her Dotharli-blue robe twin daggers lie sheathed, should she need them. In an uncharacteristic moment of pacifism, she finds herself hoping she won't.

Vivisha has followed atop her trusty steed, Lalana -- a small 'bo, but one with enough spirit that it eyes any would be predators of himself or his master with sharp, angry eyes. The lalafell, however, is unusually quiet. While her base magickal training is indeed in that of thaumaturgy -- a practice synonymous with death -- she rarely ever had to come face to face with it like this. It's distasteful to come face to face with so much truth, some dark part of her thinks. This is why the high houses employ their own tutors and servants and bo handlers and all the like.

It's prettier that way.

But then, this is the core of the work of diplomacy: Digging in, finding the realness of it. She reminds herself of that as she slides off her 'bo, and puts her sharp ears to work on finding some hint of what has happened. She reaches out to sense the aether of the place, too, to see if there were any recent disturbances.

Sechen glanced over the group already there. Cautiously, she raised a hand. "Haven't missed much, have we?"

Following in quiet tandem with his daughter, Sechen, came another Xaela to the herd. Arav Shono'tsag, tall, muted plum skin, sharp silver eyes and dark blue hair, graying by his temples with feathered locks covering the most of his face. His robes were not tribal, and creased brows hinted at discomfort- Or maybe it was just his face. A wooden staff thudded to the ground as he followed Sechen over. Soon on their way, though, a shrill shriek of a bird would startle him enough to leave his jaw clenched. "Hells take me." He muttered under his breath, trying to relax. The only one chancing to hear this might be Sechen. As they came closer, he glanced around, scanning the group of strangers and taking in a breathe. "<Hello.>" He said, when close enough, at nobody. An extra nod of greeting was sent to Sali and Ilakha, were they to pay attention. He also eyes the lalafellin. Perhaps he is not the most out of place?...

It would take Khabataaq some time to join with the group, and he drops from his brisk pace as he catches sight of the others gathering. More than he thought there would be. And faces he doesn't recognize. Though he supposes that should be expected. He spots the small, recognizable silhouette of Ilakha in the group, and there's a bit of relief then. A few familiar faces then, at least. He feels another pang of guilt, wondering if he should have told Sari after all. But... this was probably for the best. Probably.

He would be wearing simple traveling clothes, something made to be covered in dust and dirt, heavy enough to endure the Steppe's winds but provide little protection to anything other than the elements. No tribe colors. There's a weight to the ex-Buduga's shoulders as he falls in with the rest of the group, hovering just at the edge of the pack, a few fulms away. It's more than just worry, or skittishness, but dread. He tears his gaze away from the ruins to survey those around him, his gaze stalling as it falls upon a familiar Xaela woman. ...Dione? He doesn't realize he's staring, eyebrows arched in surprise.

Dione blinks back at him, eyes widening. "Kha... Khabataaq?" she stammers. "What are you doing here," she's about to say; and yet it's obvious what he's doing here. He, too, is Himaa. --All Himaa, instead of half-Himaa like her. And half a Himaa is no Himaa at all......

The droop in mood isn't missed; perhaps because this isn't like the Dione he remembers meeting all those months ago? This stark contrast to the enthusiastic and fiery girl, suddenly somber and quiet, it makes Khabataaq even more apprehensive. That heavy smile returns - he hasn't worn that in a while... hasn't he? - as he crosses over to stand a bit closer to Dione. He wonders where Rev is, but... some part of him is suddenly nervous to ask. An unnecessary caution, maybe, but it's enough to silence the question. "It's good to see you again," he says instead, tail waving cautiously behind him.

Sali turned abruptly, looking towards his relatives as Ilakha followed the motion as well. "Cousin! Uncle!" Ilakha darted towards them with open arms. Sali would have offered a smile, but the circumstances were a bit serious. "So, you finally come... am sorry is under these conditions. But I telled you what will happen at home. You 'member, right? You guys okay if me and Sali go to scout? Himaa Iloh is empty. Should be okay."

Meanwhile, Sali spoke to the others. "You all know where you are going. Take your time to prepare and head out. I know this isn't easy for a lot of you."

Sechen pulled Ilakha into a hug, patting her on the back, after deciding to ignore Arav's muttered curse. "I think that's a shared feeling, but... We're here to help!" She spared another glance around, her tiny smile faltering. "I think we'll be fine, Ilakha, if, um, you think that's what you should do."

"Well, considering who's here, I'd say we'll have just about any situation handled." A calm voice sounded out from behind the group. Approaching the group with her blade Kioku at her side and a spear across her back, the Malaguld Xaela approached. She nodded to the others who were already around, then turned her gaze to Ilakha. "Though, we will still have to be careful. One misstep could mean larger problems." Akuro stated matter-of-factly.

"Beasts, hunters, warriors from the more aggressive tribes," Akuro counted off on her fingers, "along with anything unexpected happening."

"Oh, that's not a very long list," Vivisha pipes up with unusual, bubbly sarcasm. She looks around, as if shocked she said that out loud. "Ah...don't mind me..."

Warriors from the more aggressive tribes. A concern that Khabataaq could agree on, that much was for certain. His gaze never stayed with the group for long, darting about the horizon as he kept an eye open for silhouettes or watchful hunters.

A backwards glance is given to the approaching Malaguld, just before Arav is given his own hug by Ilakha. "So, the usual." He says the unfamiliars, as he pats his niece affectionately on the head. Then he looks to her. "It's good to see you're well, Ilakha. Is there divided parties already, or are we grouping together on our own terms?" His hand finds its way to Sechen's head, just to make sure she knows he's there. Or to make sure he knows she's there. Either or.

Dione glances up to Khabi, trying to catch his attention with her eyes. If he studies her, he'll see that she's not devoid of fire; merely subdued, in this moment, confronted with her first glimpse in memory of what could have been her home only to find it a ghost town... or possibly a graveyard.

Twenty summers. She's twenty-two. She finds herself wondering about Khabi's age; whether this might have been home for him too.

"Wanna go together?" she asks him, recalling he's no fighter. "I'm armed if it should come to it."

Ilakha glanced up between Arav and her brother warily. "You can pick your partner for investigating. People can also go alone if they wish, but you think is best to stay 'round Sechen, right?"

Briefly, the wind picked up. Metal chimes from somewhere at the edge of the iloh tinkled gently, almost like beckoning. The wind hummed through the holes of the chimes like deeply pitched flutes, not unlike the pillars on the grounds of Ceol Aen.

And it definitely was a concern the other Himaa shared, a same worry that hung between them unspoken. He didn't know where his parents were. But there was a definite fear, a burden that seemed to drag down on his shoulders, that they could have been caught in this skirmish. And even if proof to confirm or deny was a slim chanced thing, didn't he need to try?

A smile at Dione's offer, some of that weight seeming to lift. "Sure, I like that idea. As... As long as you don't mind." A silly question maybe, given the offer came from her, but Khabataaq knew he would be a burden. He may be able to take care of himself a bit better since last they met.... But he has no doubts that Dione was the stronger.

He pauses then, before cautiously asking, "You're here with the Kotodama? You're here to help with their investigation?" Or are you here for yourself, was the unasked question.

Vivisha, for her part, stands close to the many tall individuals near her, afraid of being forgotten in the vast lands. But she turns pointedly to the chiming sound, staring in that direction... Creepy...

"I could use th' second pair a' eyes," Dione states, perfectly honestly, as she makes her way towards the sound of those chimes. "...An' th' company." No, Khabataaq probably won't keep either of them from being wounded; but his presence could be a bulwark, all the same.

She picks her way forward over a land slowly transitioning from green to brown, from the vibrant rustling of winds in grasses to the haunted silence of bare earth. Even the wind seems to die as they approach, and she thinks that, despite all those gathered here today, this is the quietest she's heard the Steppe fall.

"Not with 'em as such, no. But 'ere t' 'elp." She doesn't look back over her shoulder, assuming that he'll follow. "I'm journeyin' around th' Steppe. Lookin' for 'ome, I s'pose-- but not 'ome like this, I..." She waves her hand briefly towards the iloh. "Where I belong, I s'pose. Who I am." A pause. "Why're you 'ere?"

Akuro walked over in the direction of the chimes, deciding to take a look on her own. One hand rested on the hilt of her blade as she approached, not letting down her guard an ilm. If anything tried to go for her, whoever or whatever made the attempt would quickly regret it.

And follow he does. "The same as you, to help the Kotodama," Khabataaq says with a half smile. But that smile fades a bit, because that's not quite true, is it? And he's trying to be better about that.

"Ahm... and... just to be sure. That no one was here." A bit of a blush then, as he looked down towards the ground in search. But his eyes don't see anything just yet, and the search is more of a formality. He's far too distracted.

"My parents, I mean. ...I don't know if they were here when... this... happened. But I know they traveled a lot. ...I know it seems a bit foolish to be looking. Odds are I won't find anything. But... I wasn't sure... if I could not ... you know?"

Dione, however, neither scoffs nor flinches from his words.; only nods, as her eyes likewise scrutinise the ground. "'ow old are you?" she asks bluntly as she continues to walk.

Arav nodded agreement with Ilakha's statement. He was here specifically for Sechen's sake, to begin with. "She is my priority." He said, just to make sure that much was clear. Then his horns were graced with the sound of distant chimes, calling his eyes to their position. There is one person headed in their direction. He decides to remain with his family, but he is watching Akuro investigate, in case anything should go wrong.

A small frown at Dione's question, but it's a thoughtful one, not a stern one. ...Oh dear. That was a question he'd lost the answer to years ago, he thinks. Twenty.... ....twenty.... "Tw... twenty... three? ...Twenty two?" Just like when Sari had asked him his name day, it was information that had become so unimportant overtime, he'd just... lost it.

Khabataq realizes something then, that frown relaxing in sudden worry as his eyes find Dione again. "...You?"

"...Twenty-two," she says softly, with a nod of acknowledgement.  Not a whole lot more need be said.

Ilakha bowed her head to her head to her uncle and cousin, repeating the motion for her brother before going to his side. "Then we'll watch to make sure nobody's followed our trail," Sali replied firmly, but not sternly. "Best of luck, everyone." With that, he and Ilakha turned to set off, the girl scuttling to match her brother's longer strides.

Another breeze crept through the plains as they made their approach, the atmosphere far from welcoming. There was a rustling in the dry grass before a couple of songbirds scattered into the air at the sight and sound of the group. Everything else looked relatively untouched. The backs of faded ghers that were once brilliantly decorated faced the group, two in specific being closest from the left and right. The right one had the door halfway broken off, the splintered remains dangling while the rest was jutted out at an angle. The spiderweb that made up the gap in the door frame was an indication of a lack of recent activity nonetheless. The gher on the left's door - once a vibrant orange - remained shut, its contents within on apparent. All the ghers others faced the same direction as the one of the left; there were at least six in total. On the crowd a long cloth rolled over lamely in the wind, as if to greet the explorers. It was tattered, but carried distinctive colors...

#ffxiv rp #mateus rp #ffxiv story

[talesfromthegameff14]

Old Ties, New Times

Content Warning:  Violence, Blood, Vivid Injury Description It never occurred to An to think that Khenbis..., Ayanga wouldn’t show up at the appointed time for the missive that An sent out.  It simply wasn’t how things were done.  No, instead he expected the xaela to show up early as was the man’s long time habit.  Just as it was An’s habit the petite raen was perched in the shadows of a roofline on the edges of Shirogane to watch.

Yet? The time ticked closer without the expected arrival.  The time came, then went, without sign of the xaela.  It was two minutes and twenty-four seconds past when Aya came into view and An let out a pent up sigh.   Late?  Even a short time late was strange, almost unfathomable.  But then it matched the xaela’s garb too. There were no signs of armor, instead it was purely practical.  A warm jacket in shades of forest green and midnight blue, loose, dark pants, and well worn boots that allowed the taller man to move quietly along the stone paths.  All in all the xaela looked like any other gaijin trader or moderately successful adventurer that settled in the allowed areas of the isle of Hingashi to live.

There was no knowing glance towards the rooftops, Aya heading to the beach via the docks.  He didn’t take the stairs two at a time, or jump to the bottom.  Instead, it was with a steady, deliberate pace that he took them.  Strange and stranger, but An took it in stride and made his own way through the shadows cast by the waxing moon until he fell into step next to Aya.  “Good evening Hibuki.”  “I use An now.”  “I heard, I’ll use that now.”  “Thank you.  Why did you take the name Ayanga?  You held stubbornly onto the other.”  Only then did the too pale eyes shift to glance towards the smaller man. “It was a gift given to me.  The time was right for it.”  The ghostly pink eyes with the bright, white limbal rings were enough of a shock that An stopped walking to simply stare for a moment.  Aya stopped a stride later, turning towards the petite raen with the perfectly neutral mask that An had taught him.  “Your sight?” “Mostly gone.  I make up for it in other ways.”  The words were said without hesitation or a waiver in the xaela’s voice.  It had taken weeks of practice to manage to say that without flinching.  “I see.” Aya smirked, “Where I don’t.  But, we didn’t come here to talk about that, did we?”  A soft cough that was almost a laugh followed the xaela’s dry, but humorous observation.  “Ahh, excuse me.  No, we did not.”  An started walking again, taking a moment to hide away the humor that had crept into his voice, “Duyi was captured. I don’t know if he is dead or not.”  Silence followed the statement, Aya taking a deep breath and letting it out in a heavy sigh a few moments later.  “There is more.”  “Bullet casings were found where he was last known to be, the type that we are well acquainted with. I think our old friends are hunting.  Others that helped us over the years have vanished or died in ways that are suspicious.” “How many are left?”  “Too few.  Me, you, Tatsuo, Chiyo, and Shun.”  It was Aya’s turn to abruptly stop, turning towards An with visible shock in his expression.  “That’s it?  I know not many of us survived, but there was...” “Triple that, yes.” <“Fuck.”>, the curse in Xaelic growled as much as spoken An smirked, “That is a pithy way to put it.”  A noncommittal grunt was Aya’s only response as he turned and started to walk again.  “Can you defend yourself?”  That got another growl of annoyance before the snapped out reply, “Yes.”  Aya stopped walking once more, turning towards An with a taunting smile on his lips.  “Do you want to see?  Make sure that I’m not crippled too?”  An briefly froze, heart fluttering in his chest to have that look leveled at him once more.  It had been, how many years?  He thought he was immune to the arrogance held in that look, yet he felt a little breathless and the yes came unbidden to his lips.  It wasn’t said out loud though, the raen having just enough control to pause and reel in his wayward emotions.  “It would be good to see if you can keep up with me yet.”  “Oh I can, but can you keep up with me?  I’d say we could make a wager like we once did, but I’m not sure my mate would approve of me bringing you home all trussed up.  He might, you are pretty enough to catch his eye.”  Wait, what?? WHAT??  Did he just offer...???  Now? After...?!?!   No, no.  He’s teasing.  He has to be.  It was years of habit that kept An’s voice as placid as a lake despite his dancing thoughts.   “It is a moot point.  You aren’t going to win.”  “We’ll see.  You know where I live, yes?” “I do.” “Meet me there in half a bell, on the beach.”  “Alright.”  “Good, I’m looking forward to it.”  Aya turns, heading back the way he came.  After a few steps he calls out over his shoulder, “I’ll bring the rope, so you don’t have to worry about it.”  That.. that cocky bastard did not just???!?!?  ”Bastard.”, is the hissed out curse, no more than a whisper to make sure he wasn’t heard.  Yet, the damning chuckle that An hasn’t heard in years drifts back to him as Aya walked away.  Did he hear?  Of course, with his sight gone his hearing would...  Damnit.  Precisely half a bell later the two au ra met on the beach.  The tide was just starting to come in, gentle waves licking along the sandy shore a little bit higher at regular intervals.  There were no words said, the two stopping at a distance just outside of a katana’s reach.  They bow as one, long habit not forgotten despite the intervening years since they last spared.  Both were the epitome of composure as weapons were drawn.  An’s daggers left their sheaths silently and Aya pulled the staff off of his back in equal silence.  That got a brief flick of a tail tip from the far shorter raen, though he didn’t comment on it at all.  It made sense, the staff is better suited as a blind man’s weapon.  The pale glimmer in the crystals on either end of the wooden staff spoke of more than pure melee though.  Yet when the pair first crossed weapons, springing into action on some unknown que, it was staff to blade that clashed.  Sparks rose where the daggers should have bitten into wood, the spinning staff deflecting the twin strikes with relative ease.   The next pass was much the same, but ended with An leaping upwards and over the taller man when Aya tried to sweep An’s legs out from under him.  A hiss broke the xaela’s silence from the slice along the top of his shoulder, tail lashing out to catch An’s hip and sending the raen tumbling across the sand.  “First blood.”, whispered An. “First knock.”, came back the wry retort from Aya as he turned towards where An popped up to his feet.    Unseen to the raen, threads of aether followed him from the staff, looking much like puppet strings in Aya’s mind.  They weren’t solid, but they tracked each of An’s movements as he circled around the xaela along the sand without even a whisper of sound.  Aya opted to not move with him, letting the threads monitor his opponent.  It still was disconcerting to do this with a person, it was easier with objects that didn’t move.  But it was better than the whispers from the wind by malms.  The shallow cut steadily bled, dripping blood under the light armor the xaela wore.  It was an itch of a nuisance, but the shinobi still kept more of Aya’s attention even though it didn’t look like it.  Seconds slowly ticked by before An finally made a move, darting forward from behind where Aya shouldn’t be able to see.  

Shouldn’t doesn’t mean can’t, Aya proving that point as he spun at the last minute so one end of the staff swung out at hip height.  Reflexes born over a long occupation and war had An dropping almost flat to the ground to avoid the hit, then rolling to avoid the other end of the staff that swooped down towards him.  The raen’s knife edged tail flicked upwards to try to slice at Aya’s arms only for something to wrap around it and yank it away.  The grip disappeared as quickly as it occurred, not keeping An from rolling to the side and out of range of Aya’s staff.  How the hells?  He’d swear that Aya didn’t release his staff, so what grabbed his tail?  Aether, that was the only answer.  Well, two could play that game.  An hopped to his feet only to spin in place and seemingly vanish into nowhere.  Nowhere that was atop the nearby beach shelter, slit eyes focused on the xaela to see how he’d react.  It was telling how Aya immediately stopped in place when the raen disappeared, threads following him to... there.  The taller man didn’t turn towards the shelter, instead he waited, tilting his head from side to side as he listened to the breeze along the waves.  Each second was counted out by the beat of his heart, the xaela patient until he wasn’t.  The unseen threads between Aya and An vibrated before the wind responded to the Uyagir’s call.  A gust came off of the water and slammed into An’s side, catching the raen entirely off guard. He rolled with the impact, the heaviness of his feet thudding into the sand as he landed a subtle testament to the unexpectedness of the attack.  An couldn’t take time to reorient himself, not with the ironwood staff descending upon him.  It wasn’t often that Aya put the raen on the defense, An was well aware that the other man’s strength would make short work of any spar that he didn’t keep control of.  The years hadn’t changed that, but it had changed how Aya fought.  So much for thinking this would be a quick win.  Duck, jump, dive, roll, An turning his tail to the side and sweeping across the sand to spray it towards Aya’s face.  The grit was bothersome, but instead of stopping to deal with it the xaela simply closed his eyes.  It cost him the bits of vision he clung to, but perception shifted and snapped into crystalline clarity with that simple gesture. Now the threads didn’t tangle with sight, instead they crisscrossed like a spider's web in the area around him, each anchored to a point in space to stretch and shrink as Aya moved within the strands. No, not a spider’s web, but a tapestry. It was a thing of beauty, not true sight but vivid enough to stop the xaela in his tracks.  The image was a living, breathing tapestry that had movement and nuance and pain? A dagger sliced through leather armor, drawing a far deeper line along Aya’s back than An intended.  The dance between them was always vicious, accidents were rare though. Particularly ones like this where the blade skipped along rib bones like a mallet drawn across a xylophone.  The sound that came from the xaela was not musical, an abrupt scream turned into an enraged snarl.  The threads vibrated from the touch of their summoner’s blood, the pale strands soaking up the liquid like a sponge.  The carmine weave was almost invisible against the darkness of the night’s tapestry, but Aya didn’t need to see them.  No, he could feel them intimately.  After all, they were his own. The reaction was instinctive to a wound too close to deadly for comfort, the staff was spun around him in a defensive maneuver despite the pain that lanced along injured muscles from the forced use.  Some of the threads wrapped around the xaela’s torso, supporting muscles that shouldn’t be forced to work.  The rest sought out the source of the pain even as An lowered his daggers to end the spar gone wrong.  Why didn’t Aya move or block him?  He had every other strike? Was the sand actually effective?  It shouldn’t have been, yet? “My apologeeee!!”, the raen’s voice pitching upwards in surprise as he’s lifted off of the ground by something unseen and pulled in close.  The staff slides by a horn before coming to a stop less than an ilm away from crushing the opposite horn and caving in An’s skull.  The look upon Aya’s face was a familiar one to the suspended raen, one of a man balanced on the edge of violence and teetering towards a bloodletting all too rapidly.  The threads holding An fast started to tighten, causing leather to creak and cloth to start to fray. It’s not long after that when the first of the conjured strands touches flesh and blood is beads up along his skin, further feeding the web that binds.  Carmine is stained scarlet and a shiver runs up Aya’s spine, one side of his mouth turning upwards in a cruel smirk.  “Are you the one hunting us Hibuki?”  The switch back to that name couldn’t mean anything good. Was the gossip that the Enclave’s former captain was caught by the Warrior’s sickness true?  No time to wonder.  Calm, stay calm. Don’t prick the temper running like quicksilver and fire.   “No.”  “No? I’m not certain I believe you.” “What would I gain?” Calm and still as a pond in a bamboo thicket, there was no pain, there was no danger. There was only the face of the man he’d.. No, not that either.  Aya squeezed his eyes tighter before blinking rapidly, reaching up with a hand to wipe the grit and tears away.  “What would your masters gain, you mean. Solve the mystery before you die, frame someone inconvenient, ingratiate yours into the Enclave further.  I’ve heard the whispers, I’m blind not deaf.”  “There is no need for that.” “No?” “No.”  It was hard to keep the pain out of his tone as more threads worked their way through his armor to his skin.  The sensation was fire and..  No, it was fire and nothing more.  “Why then?”  “A mistake.  You didn’t move like I expected when I attacked.  Nothing more.” “A mistake?  You admit to a mistake while sparing?”  The smirk melted into a half smile, the warrior stepping back from instinct and fury with a pained sigh.  “It must be truth, you're far too proud to lie about that.”  The old joke had a laugh bubbling up from An’s chest despite it all.  The threads binding him loosened, letting the raen drop lightly to the ground before shedding their carmine hue to turn softly translucent once more.   “Do you need a healer, S.. Ayanga?”  No, no he didn’t almost say...  Calm and still as a pond.  Calm and still and flushed as a mineral spring burbling from the depths.  That’s, not calm.  The hint of deepening of color along An’s cheeks was lost to Aya, but the swift change of address and the hitch of the raen’s breath was not missed.  “I did say I’d bring the ropes.”, though this hadn’t been what he meant, something they both knew.  A familiar chuckle followed before the xaela shook his head, “I need healing, but I have potions in the house and someone I can ask for help should they not be enough. Do you need assistance?”  “No, I will take care of myself.  When..”  How to ask, everything? “When did I learn that?  Recently.”   Aya taps the staff against the sand, “We’ll talk, soon.  But for now I need to tend to my wounds before my daughter decides that politeness be damned, she will interrupt.”  “Daughter?” “Yes, daughter.  Rest well An, I’ll save the rope for next time.”  Aya walks off, leaving the raen staring after him with an unreadable expression.  “If I didn’t know better I’d think you want to tie me up again.” “I do.”, echoed back to An along with the sound of another set of feet, light upon the ground as they approached Aya. The raen stayed silent and still until the sound of a door closing reached his horns.  “Bastard.”, was finally muttered before An turned and walked away, lost in his own thoughts.  

#FFXIV RP #OC Stories #ayanga uyagir #also Khenbish #an xaio #no gods no editing #owo what is this? #a new plot brewing? #parhaps?

[suiren-shrine]

• Suiren Temple Open Supper / Establishment of Medeh Sube •

<<-Ren->> is offering up two new things to Mateus! Our first is a server event to get the ball rolling on our new free company. The second is a linkshell that will require no FC membership to participate in. Details below!

.: Suiren Temple Open Supper:.

When: 5 March, 6pm CST

Where: Shirogane Ward 16, Plot 58 (To those not able to enter Shirogane yet, feel free to message this blog for a friend teleport!)

IC: While Suiren Shrine has no active Kami at the moment, the other functions of Suiren Temple must continue on, especially that the Clinic is currently manned! To help draw in potential devotees, or possible future wards and disciples, the Suiren Temple will host an open Kitchen for those in need, or just simply curious about Suiren Temple.

OoC: All are welcome. The Temple is a mix of a House, Shrine, and Clinic. This supper will be hosted on the lower level of our FC house. The meal will be of Eastern style.

.:The Establishment of Medeh Sube:.

When: Ongoing!

Where: Mist Ward 15, Plot 26 (under construction!)

IC: After experiencing and witnessing the trials and tribulations of their kind within Eorzea, a group of Xaela had banded resources together to offer a ‘halfway’ house to those new to the West. Medeh Sube offers temporary lodging, language coaching, reading and writing lessons, and food for those unable to find work.

A project in its infancy, the physical house is still under construction but will soon be a place to shelter those that have nowhere else to go in this change of life.

OoC: Medeh Sube is a linkshell that requires no membership to <<-Ren->> to participate in. This is meant as a stepping stone for those who want to bring their dark-scaled mlems into roleplay and need a viable way for them to learn the culture. Also it is meant to be a place for generous souls to want to help those that need help!

We hope to host small server events to reach out and build our base of helpers and residents.

Contacts: Saranqerel Qalli, Khabataaq Buduga, Mori Toya, Khenbish Buduga, Yesulun Qestir, Khaljar Oronir. In Discord, feel free to contact Bluebird#2389 or message this blog for more information/membership.

#mateus #mateus event #server event #crystal server event

[eyespywithmyoneeyegtfo]

The Last Hunt

This story is a possibility.  It is not a story of what will be, merely a story of what could be.

The old man dozed in his chair on the back porch of his house.

He wasn’t as young as he used to be, and the pleasant weather combined with the comfortable cacophony of children playing about in the water relaxed him to the point of drowsiness.  Were he capable of more than just nodding off comfortably in his chair at the moment, he might grump about how even as little as five years ago he would have been eagerly joining in their play.  But such was life, and such was the harsh mistresses that were Time and Age.

At eight-and-sixty, Arden Tide had surpassed his own life expectancy by a good three decades.  Many of the people he’d called friend had preceded him into whatever came after, precious few still lived, and they rarely visited anymore- mostly due to their own infirmities in dealing with their dotage.  It didn't bother him.  They still communicated by pearl when the mood struck them.  He knew everyone had their hands full these days.

“Tell us a story, Gran’papa Tide!”

The abruptness woke him with a start, and the old man cursed up a storm that had the dozen miqo’te children that had scampered up to the porch giggling in amusement.  Arden couldn’t help but curl his lips into a wry smile.

“Come on now, children,” came a voice from behind him as the mesh-screen door opened and out came a miqo’te woman- lovely, statuesque, far taller than a normal miqo’te, standing at just a shade over six fulms in height, with jet black hair, piercing blue eyes and skin the color of chocolate. “You leave yoah Gran’papa to rest, don’t botha him none!” she said in an admonishing tone of voice.

Arden couldn’t help but chuckle indulgently as the cubs before him looked abashed.  “It’s fine, Arha,” he said at length, shifting in his seat.  “Nap time was almost over anyway,” he deadpanned.  “What story do you li’l troublemakers wanna hear this time, eh?”

“The one about the creepy house!”

“Unka Dunrai’s battle in Bahdam’s Mettle!”

“The great morbol hunt!”

“Gran’mama Zareen’s last hunt!”

All became silent at this last one.  That story was a favorite, and it showed as many young cubs’ heads all rapidly nodded in a rare show of solidarity.  Gran’mama Zareen, the last of the Jaguar Tribe, and also Mother of the Jaguar Tribe.  A legend.  A myth that had lived and breathed, whose memory lived on in the Shroud, where the new Jaguar made their home.

She, the love of his life.

Everything that this iteration of the Jaguar was they owed to Y’zareen Serhan. all of the stories, all of the laws that the Jaguar followed had been set down by her, at first so that the Jaguar would not be forgotten… but then so that her cubs- their cubs, her and Arden’s- would have something to go by, a blueprint to follow.

Y’arha was the eldest of them, the mistress of the hunt, the teacher, the mother either in fact or in spirit to a whole generation.  And it was her hand which came to rest on Arden’s left shoulder.  Another warm sensation came to rest on his right- another hand, this one belonging to their youngest, Y’sarang, the one who most closely resembled her mother- the same build, the same height, the same color eyes, the same color hair, the same facial features and sometimes even the same expressions.  She, too, was a huntress and a teacher.  And a Sin-Eater, like their mother had been.  But unlike their mother, she had not been shunned for her duty.  The new Jaguar learned from the mistakes of the past, after all, and she was honored and revered for her sacrifice like Y’zareen should have been.

Y’ravin, their son and middle cub- who like his elder sister inherited his unusually large size, his hair and his eyes from his father- carried his own young cub on his shoulders, grinning as he approached the gathering.  He’d never shown interest in becoming a leader, or challenging for the position of Nunh, but he supported his family in all things- in his case, along with Arden’s sister Ravija’s children, he kept the family business, the Aldenard Protection Agency, alive and well decades after its inception.  “Hah, they’re all so quiet.  Must be tellin’ that story again, eh, Pop?”

Arden smirked at his boy- no, he wasn’t a boy anymore but a man grown with a cub of his own. “Near as I can remember, a certain someone who’s gotten too big for his britches used t’sit just as quiet-like.”

“Hey, I still do!  Just making an observation- sic ‘im, Y’zareen,” he said as he set the toddler down, and the little girl who was his great love’s namesake ran right towards her grandfather, all but crashing into him like only a young cub who had just learned how to run could.

Arden laughed and picked the cub into his arms and set her down on his lap.  “Well now, someone’s happy to see me,” he grinned.

“Stowwy!” the girl said, patting the old man’s chest playfully.

“Oh, I see how it is, just like these little heathens over here, ya just want me for me words,” he play-grumped.  The little girl giggled.

“Awright, awright, gather in close, I ain’t gonna yell it out for the lotta ya,” he said, smiling when all of the cubs sitting near his feet- his son included- scooched closer.

“Let’s see now...It was nigh on ten years ago,” he began, and slowly lost himself in the familiar cadence and rhythm and words of the story.  He didn’t even have to think about it anymore, so well-practiced and well-memorized was this story.  It was, without a doubt his favorite story to tell.  The one that stung the most, yet filled him with the most pride.  The story of his Jaguar, his mate, his fire, his shadow, his storm.  His Zareen.

And it was a complete and total lie.

The story was as much a dramatic retelling of their final hunt together as it was an exaggeration of the things that Zareen- and now Arha- had tried to instill in the young ones.  Discipline.  Duty.  Ferocity and implacability against your enemies.  Letting your emotions run free but not letting them run away from you.  Keeping a level head.  Doing what you must.  Making the hard choices and living with them, or dying by them

But he never told them what actually happened during that precious hour that Sarangerel’s bracelet gave her, the hour to decide exactly how she wanted to end her life after she finally succumbed to the Void within.  And Twelve willing, he never would.  That bittersweet pain was all his own and it always would be.

They knew from the beginning that they were on borrowed time, but neither of them expected to spend twenty-three glorious years together.  More than enough, yet not nearly enough.  She had been careful over the years, and the signs of her inner void taint took a long time to develop.  Discipline.  Self-control.  The will to resist temptation.  Considering how Zareen loved to live life to its fullest right to the end- dancing on that razor’s edge, playing with fire and shadow, becoming that storm that Arden loved so intensely, hunting her prey until the very last moment, spending all those years burning in her fire were as great a gift as the three cubs that they made together.  Year after year the taint inside her changed her outwardly, but she was still the same.  Her hair became closer to a mane.  She grew downwardly curved horns.  The tattoos on her body came alive, spreading and covering her arms.  Her hands became larger, her claws stretched and became long, wicked razors that she could retract at a whim, and near the end of their time together, whenever she called upon her aether a nimbus crown of blue-black void energy floated above her head- as if they needed more confirmation of what she was slowly becoming.

But even though every second they spent together was as precious as the rarest of gems, that last day- that last hour- was the most precious of all.

They had known going into that day, when the veins in her body and the blood within them grew black, that it was almost time.  And so they hunted one last time, together.  They went to the ruins of the ancient city of Mhach, which were still infested by powerful voidsent.  And it wasn’t long after they began their hunt that Sarangerel’s bracelet finally activated- the dull metal disc finally opened and revealed the arcane pattern of gems that blazed with power which it hid.

They both knew what that meant- Zareen’s mind would no longer be her own in an hour’s time.  She would become that which she had hunted and destroyed for decades.

And so Arden wove a fanciful story.

A story of a frightful battle against a voidsent he didn’t actually know existed or not, against hordes of creatures that never actually happened.  Of Zareen deciding that it was finally time to end her last hunt, bolting on ahead to the heart of the city and detonating her soulstone, like a star itself being born before his eye, burning as brightly and as furiously as her heart always had.

His children knew the story for a lie, but they allowed him this one thing- this one lie- because they saw how happy it made him to share this story with the cubs. They heard the fierce pride in his voice when he spoke of how they battled their way through the hordes of minor voidlings to reach their target, and they saw the painful longing in his eye when he spoke of his great love: Y’zareen Serhan, their mother.

They didn’t know the truth.  They didn’t have to know it.  No one but his old friends Khenbish and Dunrai knew the truth, because they were the ones he went to after Zareen’s hunt was over.

No one else needed to know what happened in that last, precious hour. No one needed to know about the tears and the screams, about the anguish and the terror.  No one needed to know exactly how much a man and a woman could do with one another or say to one another when there is literally no time to waste.  No one needed to hear about the gentle retellings of their favorite moments together, about the fierce, loving pride they felt at all they accomplished as partners and mates.  No one needed to know how badly Arden wished to follow his mate to the Lady’s side, but for his need to stay.  Ravin and Sarang were young yet, and needed their father’s guidance, and Arha was yet too young and unproven to lead the reborn Jaguar on her own.

But for them- for the three beautiful, strong, courageous, intelligent cubs created from Arden and Zareen’s love, fire, shadow and storm- the story would have ended before it was ever told.

And so Arden watched his beloved go, before the void claimed her forever, and watched as the voidsent swarmed her. And she fought them, roaring in defiance the entire time as they wounded her time and again, until that brilliant flash of light and power from her exploding soulstone claimed them all along with her.

Arden stayed rooted to the spot long after the marsh had reclaimed the crater that had been the center of the ancient ruin, and he hardly remembered returning to the custom mana-cutter he’d had built for traveling on their tandem hunts.  He hardly remembered getting in and flying his way back to the Shroud, to Khenbish and Dunrai’s home, where they had so often welcomed his and Zareen’s cubs when they went out to hunt, where their own procession of adoptive children had come and gone.  He hardly remembered collapsing to his knees in front of them when they greeted him.  There were no words exchanged- no words needed to be exchanged, they knew immediately why he had come.

And his brothers held onto him, kept him together when the shattered pieces of his heart threatened to fall and disappear into the nothing where they had been hidden before Zareen had walked into his life.  They kept him together for this, he thought to himself as he brought the story to its conclusion, smiling at the awed, joyful expression in each cubs’ face, at the way his son’s eyes glistened with emotion, at the fierce pride in the smiles of his daughters.

He wouldn’t have known any of this without Zareen.  He wouldn’t have seen their cubs grow and thrive and have cubs of their own.  He wouldn’t have known the bittersweetness of raising his own family, with and without his beloved.

*********

The old man dozed in his chair on the back porch of his house.

Vah’an...

He wasn’t as young as he used to be, and the sun’s rays had slowly begun to dip down and darkness filled the Shroud combined with the comfortable cacophony of children playing about in the water had relaxed him to the point of drowsiness.

Vah’an…

Were he capable of more than just nodding off comfortably in his chair at the moment, he might grump about how even as little as five years ago he would have been eagerly joining in their play.

It is being time to awaken, my vah’an…

But such was life, and such was the harsh mistresses that were Time and Age.

It is being time foah one last hunt, yes?

The gentleness of the call woke him with a start, and the old man cursed up a storm.  Arden looked around and saw that the moon’s light was the only thing illuminating the clearing behind his home.  Where were his cubs?  Where were the grandcubs?  He forced himself to calm down.  Something had to be wrong- they wouldn’t just leave him there, asleep.  Abruptly he shot to his feet when he saw something out of the corner of his eye.

A cat.

A large one.

A jaguar, sitting at the edge of the treeline, as slight blue-white corona of aether surrounding it.  Arden gasped, rubbing his eye and blinking rapidly.  When he looked again the jaguar was trotting away, into the forest.

Arden didn’t think- he simply gave chase, all thoughts of his children and grandchildren flying away like startled birds, because he knew this had to be a dream.  The rapidity with which he ran out of breath and his muscles protested the sudden activity after such a long time without it quickly put paid to that belief.

Arden panicked as he lost sight of the jaguar, and he spun in place, gulping air as he tried to find it.  Find her.  

Because it had to be her.

“My vah’an…”

Arden turned abruptly at the sound of her voice.

“Zareen,” he said, breathless, eye wide in wonder as the very image of Y’zareen Serhan as she had been on the day they met stood before him, shrouded in that blue-white light.

“Ahden, my mate,” she replied, her smile as dazzling and her eyes as brilliant as he remembered them. “Long have I missed you,” she said, lifting her hands to his cheeks.  They felt warm, with the familiar calluses and the very tiny pinpricks of her claws that he’d long ago committed to memory.

It felt like an eternity before Arden was able to speak.  “I’ve missed you too.  Every damn second of every damn day.”  His voice was thick with emotion, his eye glistening with unshed tears as he touched one of her cheeks with an aged, well-spotted hand.

“I know,” he said, her smile turning sad,  “I am being sorreh.  But I am also being proud, my vah’an.  Proud of what you and ouah cubs have built.  It is being theah time, now.  It is being time foah you to come home, aftah one last hunt togethah, like befoah,” she said,  and leaned up to kiss him on the lips.

Instantly, the old man felt that rush he hadn’t felt since the day she died- that fire, that shadow, that storm.

And in that one moment, Arden Tide was no longer an old man.

He was as young, as happy and as full of vigor as the day they met, as the day she said she loved him for the first time, as the day she told him she was carrying their first cub.

“One last hunt,” she smiled.  “One last hunt, and then we return home to The Rivah- to be letting it take us wheah it may, so we can find each othah again in the next life, yes?”

Arden’s response was simply in the kiss he gave her in return.

********

The tiger and the jaguar padded away together into the forest.

Y’arha, Y’ravin and Y’sarang wept tears of joy as they saw their parents reunited for the last time- the perfect end to their imperfect love story.

[yzareenxiv]

Promises

Cut me deep, these secrets and lies Storm in the quiet 

They lied. (You can rely on me.)

For some reason(every reason) that was the thing she couldn’t let go.

They lied. (She promised me she wouldn’t do it again.)

Lying gets you killed(Lying is no great sin). Lying is the way you break trust(blood sharp on her bitten tongue) - it’s the stutter-step that makes you wonder if they’ll be there at your side or if they really do hate you(so much hate in those eyes) enough to let their concentration slip in that vital moment.

She didn’t understand. They were right(wrong). She didn’t know them(they felt so familiar). They’d never cared(she cared so much).

Had they known at the hotspring?(paranoia) Had it been a subtle taunt, to see if the Jaguar would make a fool of herself again? (I can’t help but push) Had she been used as a punishment, a weapon pointed at the heart of someone already soul-deep wounded?

Had she been used all this time? (Who wouldn’t want a beautiful woman’s attention?)

Curiosity was a curse(she didn’t get to tell him), loving so deeply was a curse(why does it hurt so much), honesty was a curse (Would you rather I lied?); she wanted nothing more than to (dieyou’re dead already) turn back the bells and take back what she’d said(she meant every word) and to say what she’d gone out there to say instead(time’s up).

There’s no going back. Move forward. Everyone makes their own choices. It is hard, madam. Little sister. I love you. I want nothing to do with you. We can get through this.

Come home.

You wanna take a drink of that promise land Gotta wipe the dirt off your hands Careful son you got dreamers plans But it gets hard to stand Solider keep on marching on Head down till the work is done Waiting on the morning sun Solider keep on marching on

Zareen sat in Khenbish’s room, the Xaela a polite shadow on the other side of the sliding partition the way he had been since she’d managed to come home night before last (rain, a storm, too weak to move her legs or push her body out of the mud). His silent hovering said near as much as the way his tail lashed and curled every time she’d even touched on what happened(words she couldn’t remember tumbling from her lips, incomprehensible). Every time he’d looked at the bruise on her jaw(easy, find better people). She’d explained that it was her own fault, her own mistake, when you corner a wounded creature you know you’re going to get hurt and that was exactly what she’d done(I’ll fight for you). She felt very alone; everyone, literally everyone, had expressed no surprise that Ezen had walked away(He doesn’t get to just -walk away-.). Not the Khotgor(let him go). Not any of the people of the Ward(that’s a damn shame). Not Elia(is this about him, or about you?). That, more than anything, was what worried her that she’d been genuinely wrong(HE PROMISED HE WOULD BE HERE)(He lied.).

Phantom trails of tears burned on her cheeks. She hadn’t been able to actually cry since that night- though she’d wept. Sobbed. Everything hurt. The world hadn’t just been tilted on it’s axis the way it had been when Miyasuke had come and when Burkegan had left and Evette had blamed her. Not like it had tilted when she’d turned down Ganbaatar’s proposal. Not like it had tilted when Nhago’li and Burkegan and Zwynfyr had walked away one after the other. Not like it had tilted when the Maelstrom first started to turn away her requests for news from home even as they’d taken her gil to pay for ‘passage’ for her people.

It had shattered.

Shattered, her friendship with Elia(You’re just an empty heart wrapped around a whiskey bottle). Shattered, her friendship with Ezen(Hate me. Hate me with every fiber of your being but don’t lie to yourself). Shattered, her friendship with Lolah(I sacrificed someone to save her). Shattered, the future she’d been looking forward to(I want to be a Khotgor when I get back). Shattered, the spark of hope that her people might have survived(Atomos, it spews forth and it devours). Shattered, the peace of mind that she’d used as a life-raft all this time(I understand this). Shattered, the dream of something other than hunting(Ask me again after the wedding).

Shards of herself floated in the potent dark of her mind, ricocheting off one another in clashes that she couldn’t control and couldn’t ignore. Her hands loosely clasped her soulstone, which she’d so nearly also shattered in her mad and frantic and fruitless dashing back and forth across the world(LimsaEnclaveMistLavenderBedsKuganeGridaniaMist). The stone held no wisdom for her- the centuries and eras of her ancestors’ voices held nothing that could guide her in this place, these circumstances. She could recall the weak points and hunting tactics for ten thousand denizens of the void but in these matters of heartbreaks and betrayals she found only silence.

There was food in front of her, going cool, and she realized that she’d lost time and Dunrai must have brought it. An ether sat nearby, uncorked. Her stomach rumbled and she opened the clasp in her necklace and set her soulstone back in it’s place before moving towards the food. She had to eat. She had to recover. There were people that relied on her- that worried about her. That wanted her by their sides. More than that, there were preparations that needed to be made. Two weeks to fulfill her obligations to the company, to the people she owed dotted across Eorzea. Two weeks to explain to the people who loved her. Two weeks to craft enough antidotes, potions, salves, and poisons to give the tiniest edge. Two weeks to train. Two weeks to decide who she was willing to bring, who she believed could stand to see all the demons in her nightmares and the tainted paradise of her home and to carry that weight for the rest of their days.

Two weeks to convince them that she was coming back when the job was done.

Two weeks to convince herself.

Slipping. The Jaguar should die on that island. Shattering. I’m coming back.

I keep my promises.

#y'zareen serhan #roleplay #ffxiv rp #mateus #the aureate ward #so many other characters #all the people #the jaguar #jaguar tribe

[thearchoninstitute]

Map Key

1. Test Your Strength: A fan favorite at our previous event, Thaliak’s Embrace has decided to bring it back once more! Show off to that lass or lad you fancy and test your strength! Try to lift our Security Guard’s MONSTROUS axe! (100 gil per try) (Pos: 10.6, 14.1)

2. Snack Booth: Hungry for some sweets? Have your taste buds test our skilled bakers and cooks! This time we’re offering a menu of Sweetheart Chocolates (Bubble and Pearl Chocolate), Love Potions (Chamomile Tea), Heartbreaking Honey Muffins (Honey Muffins), and slices of Love Sick Cheesecake (Rolanberry Cheesecake)! (Prices vary from 100 gil to 500 gil)  (Pos: 10.3, 14.6)

3. Flower Booth: Forget that Valentione's Day gift? We got you covered. Come by our flower shop and pick out one of our simple yet stunning colorful Corsages. (prices vary - while supplies last)  (Pos: 10.6, 14.7)

4.  Kissing Booth: Need we say more? Come steal a kiss and possibly a heart for a price! (Donate what you want!) (Pos: 10.2, 14.5)

5.   Valentione’s Love Arrow: Ever wonder why love seems to spread so quickly around this time of the year? We think we found the answer and need your help to test it out! Pick up a bow and we’ll give you a few potion dipped arrows; take aim, hit our target Mammet, and watch it take effect! (100g a game & rules will be explained by Booth operator.) (Pos: 10.7, 14.6)

6. Stage &  Raffle Sign Ups: Get the chance to win prizes such as a primal minion of choice, a Zu Mount, and even a combo prize of a Bullpup and a private all expense dinner for two at Thaliak’s Embrace! The stage is also where we’ll be having two wonderful performances! Our stars? Khenbish Monsaran (@ghost-of-a-goddess) and Etani’a Sedi (@etani-a)!  (Raffle entry fee is 10k - more details on raffle such as prizes and rules are HERE.) (Pos: 10.4, 14.9)

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Location: The Lavender Beds, Ward 8 Entrance

Time: 8 pm Eastern / 5 pm Pacific - 12 am Eastern / 8 pm Pacific

Date: 2/10/2017

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WE HOPE TO SEE YOU THERE!

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Contact Kokomo Edmont if you have any questions in regards to the event!  Special Thanks to our amazing company member Aiobhelle Yvven for the making of the wonderful image!

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Thaliak’s Embrace Enjin –> Here <–

#thaliak's embrace #thaliak's eye #Balmung Server #balmung #balmung rp #FFXIV:ARR #ffxiv arr #ffxiv rp #Final Fantasy XIV #balmung events #Server Balmung #terp #te #The Sweethearts Festival #LB W8 P5 #Thaliak's Embrace Presents #TE Events #Thaliak's embrace events #Thaliak's Embrace event #chocolates #cherry blossom corsage #honey muffins