#but is anyone talking about how raubahn wants it too

[kuroimarzipan]

no ok we have got to talk about this. im just saying he thought about leaving it all to join the wol like im just saying. im just saying. it might be love

#raubahn aldynn #we talk about how badly aymeric wanted to drop everything to adventure with the wol #which is ALSO VERY GOOD #but is anyone talking about how raubahn wants it too #cmonnnn #ITS LOVE #in both cases #ffxiv #4.1 spoilers

[kicktwine]

beating my writers block back with a fork again, this time everyone goes to sleep

Ch’ari Tia returns to Ala Ghiri and immediately makes a beeline to the hammocks. 

He swears, every time something Happens, which happens a lot, something Happening, and he doesn’t get time enough to take an uninterrupted catnap afterwards, a cherub dies. Ala Ghiri has kindly set up rows of woven hammocks to cater to the influx of people, some of which are already taken by bandaged or exhausted rebels. Ch’ari finds an empty one next to a wall, and collapses into its sun-warmed embrace, letting the tense conversation wash over him. 

He is simply not going to think about it until his head is clearer. That’s been his solution for many things, and it’s worked well enough so far. Every time he is forced to make a split-second decision it comes out more violently and stupidly than he means it to, but every time he is allowed to think he ends up with something resembling an intelligent response. It is why he doesn’t speak much in conversations of politics or conflict — better to leave the talking to someone who can think rationally in the heat of the moment, not someone whose first instinct is to pull his tongue at the tyrant. 

Naps are a wonderful cure for overthinking and stress and all those associated emotions. It is late in the afternoon now, such that a beautiful gold light warms the stones and colored fabrics of Ala Ghiri, which means it is the perfect time of day to have one. 

Speaking of overthinking. Ch’ari squints open one eye at the sound of his friends, who he made sure were inside and talking with General Raubahn (who is yalms in that direction, he could have sworn), who are not talking with the General. Instead, Lyse is talking to the General, and Alphinaud and Alisaie seem to be busy talking with the injured, taking notes in Alphinaud’s small sketchbook. 

Ch’ari frowns. That is not what that’s for, someone should have given Alphinaud a proper notebook or something, not let him use his charcoal paper for war notes. That, and they should both be resting, after the disaster that was the tower — Ch’ari had never seen them so shaken, which is not something he wants to extend however possible. Both of their backs are straight, however, going about some errand with business-like airs. One would think them unaffected. 

Except, notably, for the fact that they have not let go of each others’ hands since then. 

Alisaie glares at anyone who looks at them for too long, as if daring them to say anything about it. She is not doing the talking, she keeps one hand on her brother’s and one hand on her rapier. Alphinaud, greatly inconvenienced by the fact that he has one hand for notetaking, seems content to walk in front and half-pull her around behind him, as if he were the one who initiated, not her. Shielding her from any such comments, in his own way. Though, Ch’ari notes, his is the tighter grip, and he refuses to even let go to adjust his pen. 

His eye tracks them all the way through ten hammocks, and in that time he thinks, and he decides that if they will not do as they’re told and rest (which he thought Raubahn would tell them to do, and he suspects he did, they’re just not listening) he will simply have to make them. 

Alphinaud’s ears perk when he sees Ch’ari lounging in the next hammock, and he trots up at a respectful distance to greet him. “Taking a well-deserved rest for once?” He asks. Alisaie regards how his limbs are all sprawled in different directions, and conceals a snort with her unchanging expression. 

“Yes sir,” Ch’ari drawls. “I think my muscles may well have fallen off if I didn’t stop moving right this second.”

“You have done the most busywork out of anyone. How are you faring? Do you need anything?”

“Well enough. Is that what your little notes are for? Askin’ everyone if they need anything?”

“Oh— yes. Sort of. I thought — we thought it would be prudent to ensure everyone is having their needs attended to, you know. After such an event it’s very likely we’re missing things, equipment, injuries, anything like that.”

“To make sure no one’s hiding anything,” Alisaie says, accusation tinging her voice. Ch’ari ignores her, he’s innocent of all crime. Or, that crime, at least.

And it’s a good way to do virtually nothing while keeping your hands busy, Ch’ari notes. Ala Ghiri’s healers are exceptional, and so are their organization leaders, and whosoever’s needs are not attended to will probably be attended to very soon. 

“Well,” Ch’ari says, “In that case I uppose I would be glad for…” and he trails off nonsense-mumbling, side-eyeing the twins. 

“Sorry, what was that?” Alphinaud asks, stepping closer to hear him. Ch’ari does not often ask for much, preferring to get it himself. Alisaie squints.

“Oh, you know, some… mrghprrhms.” Trails off again. Alphinaud cocks his head and furrows his brows. 

“You… May have to speAUGH!”

As soon as he’s in grabbing range Ch’ari‘s arm snakes out and snags him around the waist, yanking him into the hammock with an ungrateful squawk and sending Alisaie tripping over her feet after him. She manages to remain standing, bent over the hammock with a flabbergasted stare as Alphinaud is wrestled into the empty space at Ch’ari’s side. 

“Ari!” he yelps.

“Get rested, blue boy!” Ch’ari crows. 

“No! I have to — my sketchbook!” Said book and pen has fallen to the ground beneath the hammock, blessedly closed and not bent on some page. Alphinaud grabs his sister’s arm with his now-free other hand, trying to pull himself out, but Ch’ari tightens his grip.

“Ch’ari, release my brother,” Alisaie says. 

Ch’ari aims a look full of evil intent her way. “What’ll you give me for him?”

“Ten Gil.”

“Ten?!” Alphinaud‘s muffled voice cries. 

“Fifteen.”

“Mmm… not sufficient. He is very warm, you see.”

Alisaie’s hand slowly frees itself from her brother’s so she can aim an unimpressed arm-fold his way. It shakes, but only slightly. “Incorrect, I know for a fact his circulation is terrible.”

“Really? How’s yours—“ Ch’ari lunges and just barely manages to grab Alisaie by the middle, even though she saw him coming and tried to dodge out of the way. He yanks her into the hammock as well with a triumphant “Too slow!”, but Alisaie is determined not to go down as easily as Alphinaud. As soon as her back hits the hammock she wriggles sideways at full force, sending the entire hammock swinging wildly. It twists in the middle and Alisaie realizes her Horrible Mistake and clings to it to avoid being unceremoniously dumped on the ground, tail straight out and waving from side to side in an attempt to balance. 

They must look ridiculous, a crumpled bundle of hammock with three puffed out tails sticking out the bottom and flailing arms gripping the sides. Eventually, though, Ch’ari manages to pull a nearly upside-down Alisaie against his other side, the hammock curling over their sides. 

Alisaie’s tail thwacks against the ground, her ears getting red. “Let go of me this instant!” She hisses. 

Ch’ari tries very hard not to laugh at her and almost succeeds by covering it with a large comical yawn. “I don’t think I will, really!” He says. 

“We have things to do,” Alphinaud complains, notably not moving. Alisaie tries to push herself up and out, but the hammock rocks unstably again and she ends up stuck in a crouch lest she be flipped upside down again. 

“Yeah, you have resting to do,” Ch’ari says, his voice losing the silly affect and his ears going flat. “When was the last time you slept?”

“This morning,” Alphinaud says with what is decidedly not a pout. Alisaie slowly looks away and mutters something guiltily. 

“They do not need your help right now. They have it handled,” Ch’ari says firmly, gesturing to the Ala Mhigan healers bustling efficiently to and fro. “If anything, they should be handling you.”

He pulls Alisaie back down, and thankfully she doesn’t resist this time. She still seems uncomfortable with being held, at all, something Ch’ari specifically remembers Alphinaud being unfamiliar with until he did it some five or six times. He’s surprised he’s so reticent to the concept, but he chalks that up to being a Miqo’te thing. 

“I’m afraid I’m too awake to sleep,” Alisaie says, quietly. “If that’s what you intend to make me do.”

“I intend you to sleep by your own merits, be it now or in the very near future. Do not make me sleep spell you,” he threatens. 

“Don’t.”

“It isn’t even night,” Alphinaud mutters.

“Unrelated,” Ch’ari yawns. A real yawn, this time. And he’s not just being stubborn — the twins look like raccoons on their best days, and after today, they look like sad Ishgardian relief painting children. Very dark circles-y, and not much like children and more like strange blob things. That last part is an exaggeration on the part of the twins but not Ishgardian painted artwork. Clearly, sculpture is their area of expertise. 

“I am going to sleep. You can join me if you wish, but you’re staying right here and resting at least until I’ve started snoring, savvy? Then you can keep doing… whatever it is you were doing.”

Alphinaud sighs. “Fine. You fall asleep in an instant anyways.”

“Very well,” Alisaie mutters. “I’ve embarrassed myself enough today, might as well go for gold. At least you chose a hammock out of the crowd.”

“I’d never choose a middle hammock. Too noisy,” Ch’ari says. He pulls both twins closer to his sides. “Five minutes, at most.”

(Twenty minutes later, Lyse sneaks a picture of Ch’ari splayed on his back in a hammock, Alphinaud curled up against his left side and Alisaie with her arms folded and head dropped onto the Miqo’te’s shoulder, all soundly asleep. Alphinaud’s arm is slung over Ch’ari’s chest, his hand held securely by Alisaie’s. Unfortunately, the picture doesn’t capture Ch’ari purring like a ceruleum motor.)

#my writing #again. No Edits this is just written like in my notes app I don’t think while doing these #Ch’ari #ffxiv #play game #alphinaud leveilleur #alisaie leveilleur #all I have in me is soft. Points a gun at the twins and when it goes off it’s just a soft explosion of cotton. Get fluffed idiot

[dainesanddaffodils]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(outside the Scions)

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

[pinkafropuff]

Premature Farewells (D'Marre Orlay)

It seemed like it was all for nothing. D’Marre could see no less than the “end” in sight- that his time with the Scions was coming to an end- at least it seemed so. For the most part, the days had begun to blur into one another- or mayhaps it was that things were going too well. The Crystal Braves were especially…ambitious, even for Alphinaud, as a project, but he didn’t say so, at least not at first.

“I don’t like him.” He said, watching Ilberd as he went. “He’s too nice.” 

“Are you perhaps jealous?” Leave it to Alphinaud to attempt to disarm him. Leave it to him also to fall short. ‘Twas no longer a secret that he was not a nice person- at least among the Scions- but it still took his all not to grind his teeth before his response.

“Me?” A smirk. “Perish the thought.” When his gaze turned to the young lord, his arms crossed over his chest. “But my point still stands.” A finger pointed towards the captain’s form. “Any man- any fighting man- whose first words to another are ‘how may I serve you’ is hiding something. Even good masks are easy to spot when they’re too smooth.” 

He seemed worried. For a moment the words washed over Alphinaud as he mirrored D’Marre’s posture, arms crossed over his chest, eyes flickering downward. “I will…keep that in mind. Thank you, D’Marre.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said, giving him a smile. “Learn to act.”

----

“Teach me.”

It was a startling thing. Not new, per se. But startling. He’d been tuning his guitar at the time, back turned to the door, crates piled high with things and unnecessary knick-knacks that others had begun to leave with him. Not that he minded. 

When he turned his head, it was only slightly; he’d heard the footsteps, hurried and abrupt down the hall, though he hadn’t known they’d stop near him. Alphinaud. “Teach you what?”

“To act.” Determined. Like he had been thinking overlong about it, or else been goaded into doing so. D’Marre wasn’t sure which. “I have been thinking about your proposal- ‘twould be best if I paid it some mind, don’t you think? As the commander of the Crystal Braves.” 

He waited. Waited until the silence could become uncomfortable, could become stale and make him question even coming to ask for help at all. When it passed he turned to glance at him, noticed the rigidity of his posture and smiled. “It’s not an easy thing to learn.”

“I am not afraid, if that is what you imply,” a haughty edge sharpened his tone, though D’Marre thought it funny. Heartening, even. “If you do not wish to put your words in practice, than I shall simply take on another teacher-”

“Alright, that’s enough. I didn’t say I wouldn’t teach you.” A familiar scene with unfamiliar trappings. He stood and shook his head, trying not to smile but failing before he turned to face Alphinaud, who (much as he expected) presented as ready and determined- if not somewhat red, near the tips of his long ears from embarrassment. Good. He’d wanted to make him sweat. “Rule number one,” he raised a finger, leveling his gaze with his new charge and craned his neck downward, “never tell anyone your true intentions from the start. Not unless they’re your partner or a trustworthy ally. Otherwise everyone knows your thoughts. Everyone knows your feelings. And it’ll make you a pretty poor politician- though you’ve tried to present otherwise.”

A flinch, though it was barely noticeable. Good. “...I see. And rule number two?”

D’Marre carefully propped his guitar up by one of the crates and exchanged it for his bow. “Don’t take anything I ever say at face value.”

-----

“Raubahn. Do you have a moment?” Congenial and kind to a fault. Charming. Even the lean was practiced. “I wanted to ask you about something.” 

“Ah, D’Marre.” Busy but not too busy to talk. He didn’t dislike General Aldynn, to be frank, but in some ways he was far too genuine to ignore. Too real. When the two greeted each other, Raubahn even grabbed his forearm instead of his hand- a something he was unaccustomed to on this side of the world- though D’Marre suddenly understood it as a kind of intimacy. Trust. “Everything is going well with the Braves, I trust?”

“...somewhat.” It was best to be clear but not too direct. “Nothing we cannot handle, though. I wanted to ask you about something else, though.” Now came the test. “How well do you know Ilberd?”

“How well?” A half-shift. Not too much, but enough to mayhaps question why he’d asked. “We were stationed together. Grew up together. There’s no one I’d rather trust my life with.”

“...I see.” A half beat. “It’s nice to have someone like that.” 

“I’d wager you understand it better than I do,” Raubahn admitted. “I’ve seen a great many warriors in my time, but you’re a different breed.” 

A compliment. Not a light one, either, from the general. “We Viera have different...views about combat. It’s nothing special. Regardless, I’ll have to thank you for the compliment. From someone as storied as you, I doubt many hear your words up close.” 

“You think so?” 

“I do.”

He shook his head, a smile light on his lips. Clearly there was something interesting and funny about D’Marre that he didn’t quite get. Infuriating. “Was there anything else you wanted? If you’ve the time, I’d be happy to answer any other questions or even give you a tour if you need..? Mostly just awaiting word on an issue for the sultana, and waiting on the damned thing gets a mite boring after a while.”

“...no, it’s alright. I’ve heard all I need.” He raised his hand in farewell, smiling and inclining his head. “I should be getting back. The boy’s probably floundering without me.” 

“They’ll never grow up if you hold on too tight!” Raubahn called after him, and D’Marre felt something real pull at his mouth as he waved his hand and turned away. 

Raubahn was too trusting. The wrong man to ask. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

------

There is a strange smell in the air when he approaches the outpost, not unlike death. He knows that smell well; the stickiness of its stench against his skin after countless nights on watch is no different than the dryness of the heat in the desert, especially when he finds the vial.

The vial. He’d think back on it almost fondly some time in the far future, for reasons he nor anyone else could explain. Maybe it was the way it fit into the palm of his hands just when he needed it most. When he’d been running himself ragged trying to tie up loose ends and finish his latest plans to move on. 

“You don’t have to move on, you know,” Alisaie reminded him, though he tried not to pay it any attention. “You can just stay with us! There’s plenty of world that needs saving and you could just…I don’t know. Bring your guitar. Make someone’s life a living hell, you know? If you wanted.”

“I’m not a crusader, kid. Just along for the ride.” Really, whenever she goaded him like that, it was hard to think of reasons to the contrary. Maybe he could stay. It would be simplest, right? To not pack up and go looking for something new, lest he be stuck again. 

“I bet Y’shtola wouldn’t mind.” Cheeky. Were it one thing the twins had in spades, it was their cheekiness. ‘Twould be hard for the two to get the rest to stop seeing them as the children they were, given the childishness of their intentions, especially in situations like these. 

“Y'shtola doesn’t care.” He half-lied, hoping not to betray himself by accident. Y’shtola didn’t not care. It was more like- “She has better things to do. And even if she didn’t, you,” he pointed to her, “should stay out of grown folks’ business.”

“Excuse you,” she snapped. “I am an adult as well. Mayhaps not as old and whiny and bitchy as you are, but an adult nonetheless!” Hands on her hips and squaring her shoulders, she leaned forward. “At least I am not afraid of polite company.”

‘Adult’. Huh. “Barely,” he mumbled, folding up his clothes, and when she scoffed he turned to say, “Look. I’ll think about it. Will that make you happy?”

“Yes! It would make me blissfully and undeniably happy. Thank you for not being a total idiot.” When she threw up her hands, he threw his up as well to mime how silly she was, and, appropriately fed up, she shook her head and left.

He blew some air out of his nose. Why bring up the sorest spot on him? Brat.

“I didn’t know Viera had tails.” 

He swept his hair away from his face on one side, banishing echoes of one too many surprising nights in the Rising Stones. Maybe that was another reason to stay, after all. 

-----

How quickly can one’s world fall apart? Does it dissolve in the water like cotton candy or is it slow? Meditative. Purposeful. 

“You have to go on without us.”

His grip on the axe tightened, hands wringing against the smooth of the wooden handle. Despite taking the secret passageway, the remains of the Crystal Braves- and those of the Sultana’s own guard- were en route at a pace that made his teeth grind together. 

“No.” It was firm. Between their recent loss of Yda and Papalymo and not knowing how either of the twins fared he found himself at his limit. His ears stood at attention, counting how many steps, how many minutes, how many moments they had, knowing if he wasted even half of them he’d regret it for the rest of his overlong life.

“D’Marre.” It was sharp, but not without affection. When the green of her eyes cut into his own, he felt like a prey animal. Were it not she who’d done it, he may hold a grudge for that. “You must go. We will take care of things here. You have to survive.”

An instinct overtook him and he reached out, but she leaned away. Thancred, too, seemed surprised to see this, though D’Marre found he didn’t have enough energy to care. “I know you think to strongarm us,” she intoned, “but you cannot possibly think you could keep up a pace with Thancred in tow on his own, do you? Much less me and mine.”

“I’ll admit, I’ve had a bit too many snacks as of late,” Thancred added good naturedly, though his gaze wavered. “Either way, she’s right. You can’t win them all, my friend.”

“We’ll be fine.” Y’shtola stressed. “We can hold our own. Or did you forget you aren’t the only one with the will to fight?” A bold front. Much like her, even when he could see the tremble in her right hand as she held her stave, of which he said nothing. Of which he found he could say nothing, really.

He wanted to snap at them both. Wanted to drag them by their collars, even if that meant they all died fighting themselves to exhaustion when caught. Instead he went with his gut. With the encouragement that was given him, its plea bordering on derangement, on desperate madness.

“Go.” Her voice was softer than he’d heard in a long while, and Thancred smiled. Once D’Marre willed himself to take Minfilia and go on, he could still hear them talking, their echoes following them down the path before the tunnel’s end.

“I thought you said you and D’Marre weren’t a ‘thing’?”

A scoff, albeit a good natured one. “We are not.”

He heard the crash of a cave-in soon after that.

#d'marre orlay #ffxiv #he's almost done with arr but I know what's coming next. and here it is. teehee! #fic

[doyouknowthisdisabledcharacter]

I'm so excited a discussion about Zenos is happening! I've submitted Y'shtola and I think Arendvald was maybe me too, been meaning to type out one for Thancred, Raubahn, and possibly a couple others, too. I love FFXIV so much, is major special interest.

[SPOILERS AHEAD FOR ANYONE NOT DONE WITH FFXIV MSQ AND INTENDING TO PLAY IT] So, to add some context to Zenos! He's a villain that stands out from the rest, and the player character (WoL from hereon) is the only person he truly wants to fight. He is canonically extremely gifted, and it's both as something that makes him super deadly and one of a few factors playing into how he has absolutely no pleasure from anything in life. Except fighting people that really do pose a challenge to him, which is like... the WoL. That's the end of that list. He's the son of a ruler in an authoritorian fascist empire (Garleans), with highly rigid and cold regimes and practices and extremely large differences in power across their vast power hierarchy.

He is cold, indifferent, ruthless, and extremely dangerous. But he doesn't kill aimlessly either, it gives him no joy, and he doesn't wish to spent time on unworthy targets that wouldn't challenge him in the slightest. He canonically is miserable in life, always been an outsider, always felt alien to his society. He finds everything boring, and he despises boring. He's got lines of dialogue saying nothing makes him feel anything at all, except when he's almost killed in battle by the WoL. So he keeps seeking out the WoL, teasing and egging on to try and get that rush again.

Canon factors that cause this: - Childhood without parental attachments, because his mother died and his father was emotionally, socially, and physically distant - Forced to train and behave as an adult from an unreasonably young age, in a highly formal and structured environment without room for being a child - His giftedness, described in ways similar to real life gifted child experiences and complications - Chronic boredom and lack of emotion, described in ways similar to understimulation and flat affect - Lack of any attachments or interest in social relations of any kind, described in ways similar to antisocial personality characteristics, where he both cannot socially connect and doesn't care

I'm not sure if canon directly talks about his apparent lack of empathy using words or phrases that align with the concept of empathy, but several other characters express disgust and anger at how he shows no empathy or remorse. Aka it is heavily implied he does not have emotional empathy, and does not care about the cognitive empathy he does have. He says in different ways at many points in time that he doesn't enjoy this existence, he doesn't wish for this. He even had a nearly successful suicide attempt. He is functionally isolated and totally excluded from society, and in practice can't or won't or both do anything other than look for the next way to try and feel something.

The game generally doesn't use terms for health and illness as we know them, but if I were to try and translate the terms and phrasings and tellings they do use about Zenos, I'd no doubt say he has a severe attachment disorder which with his giftedness creates a very skilled but very dysfunctional person. His giftedness for both intellect and learning and combat is a blessing and a curse. Then, if we're going more into harder to translate from in-world lingo to our-world lingo territory, he does have a variety of traits that align with antisocial personality disorder as well as dysthymia.

Overall he is a villain that portrays a lot of contrasts and conflicts in function talked about regarding 2e / twice exceptional people and who is both an absolutely ruthless one man army monster and also just alone, miserable, empty, and without any pleasure from anything in life, where a lot of it is likely caused by the circumstances of his childhood.

Thank y’all for your input + the people in the comments of the other post. He will be included, his poll will run at some point.

#asks #other asks #sorry for kinda letting this one languish

[fluffysilver]

Flufftober Day 19 - Keeping Someone Safe

The world really had no idea the treasure that Hydaelyn had granted it in the person of Her Champion, Davien thought as he leaned against a pillar, half hidden in shadow as he watched Rika talking with General Raubahn of the Flames. His lover’s eyes were bright and warm, devoid of anything like guile. Not innocent, no, he knew well the darkness that lay in the world, but unlike so many, including Davien himself, that knowledge hadn’t broken him. Nor had it soured his spirit, or made him cynical. No, he looked at the world, at that darkness, and wanted to fix it. He had a clear vision of how things could be, and worked towards that. Most people with the kind of power that Rika possessed and the amount of influence that he was building would be using it for their own ends. 

Not Rika. No, he used it only to help and protect others, and ever so subtly, to shame those in power that he met into doing more than they had been to make things better in their spheres of influence. Davien had seen it himself, in the city states. In Ul’dah, even the stubborn and stiff necked Ala Mhigan refugees were starting to thaw to him, though naturally the Syndicate hated Rika’s littest hair because he was, clearly and obviously, incorruptable. You just had to take one look at him to know that you could wave gil at him until the Twelve ended the world and it would do no good. Money was important to him, but nothing to his morals.  To the steady, incorruptible light in his soul, money was a tool, nothing more. More, there had been a certain shifting in the attitude of the Thaumaturges - Rika’s example of humility urging them to be part of the city, not above it. 

In Gridania, the Twin Adders were starting to shape up and spread out among the towns, instead of reflecting the insular attitudes of the Padjal rulers. There too the guilds had started working together, rather than focussing only on their own concerns. 

In Limsa Lominsa the Yellowjackets had started to police their own ranks, digging at the corruption that had started to fester there, and even started working with the guilds, even Jackie and the Rogues against the scum that spawned in the underbelly of the pirate town. Subtle though that shifting of attitudes seemed it had profound, long lasting effects, and it happened where Rika went. 

To those powers, though… Davien’s tail lashed. They would only see him as a tool, a weapon. Someone to throw against the Primals, given the strength of his Echo. But also against more secular enemies. Rika was good. Better than ‘good’. Davien had seen him take down a full grown dragon with his own eyes, solo, a feat usually reserved to the dragoons of Ishgard. Against the terror of the Garleans’ machines, his steady presence, battle skill and the fire of his spirit might be enough to turn the tide in Eorzea’s favor. But Davien’s worry lay in the fact that the ‘powers that be’ would realize that, and use Rika past his strength. No one else that he had ever seen could switch jobs, rapidly, in the middle of combat, like Rika could. Seven hells, he’d never heard of anyone doing so many jobs as he did, either. Once they really realized that, Davien worried that the sluicegates would open, and everyone would be after this one, special, warm person to do everything that they felt needed to be done. And Rika, the Twelve love him, wasn’t going to say no. In Rika’s world, if a person needed help, they should be helped. It drove Davien a little nuts. 

So Davien would do it for him. He was head of the Free Company, not Rika, and that was a buffer that he would use to protect Rika against the people who would use him up and spit him out, caring only about what he could do for them, and not at all about what it might do to Rika. He was a warm, caring, truly beautiful person, one who saw good in people, one who set an example of what the right path was without once condemning others, and Davien would see that treasure be tarnished and broken over his own dead body. 

#gaming #oc #flufftober #flufftober 2023 #final fantasy xiv #yaoi #final fantasy 14 fanfiction #wolocxoc #final fantasy xiv fanfiction

[motheatenscarf]

Parsing some Stormblood thoughts. It was more frustrating than rewarding, but the things I liked I did have a lot of fun with.

I will say, "Fun" is the strongest word I can use there, nothing particularly grabbed or moved me, but there are some elements with potential.

Largely wasted potential that I don't think will get followed up on, but I've got 2 full more expansions to go through and the rest of the post-Stormblood patch content before I'm done, so who knows.

The Fun! Bonding with Alisaie and Lyse as we explored the eastern continents stuff, that was a hoot, and I love those two characters in particular. Gosetsu and Hien had some potential to be fun characters, but they kinda dropped the ball. Gosetsu is alive at least, apparently, which made his "death" seem kinda cheap, but it already felt cheap and the drama unearned, so whatever, I'll take it, I like Gosetsu and I want to see more of him. Not sure how I feel about Yotsuyu being alive, but if Fordola got to live and may in time redeem herself, then fuck it, why not give Yotsuyu another shot? Pun not intended.

Yotsuyu and Fordola had the potential to be really compelling characters, even if they're meant to be reprehensible traitors, their motives were at least believable and they were highly driven and emotionally invested in things. That's literally all I ask for. Maybe we can see more from Gosetsu too, his drunken breakdown and him sitting vigil over the corpse of the steppe warrior were the two best moments with him and I'd love to see more of that depth and an exploration of what it means to be an OLD samurai. If he can have a mandatory team-building retreat with Yotsuyu on their sad little island, I'll buy into that, that has potential.

I think the most fun thing here was Zenos going COMPLETELY INSANE. I wish the Ascians were that unhinged, they would at least be fun. He's a monster and it's disgusting that he manipulates entire countries just for his own personal satisfaction, but like, I mean... the Garleans and Ascians were ALREADY doing that, just for gross rape and conquest reasons or Evil Darkness Must End The World reasons. Zenos operating on DBZ fighting anime logic is at least unique and memorable and funny in a setting like this. I'll take it, it's something.

I was glad to see my fears about Estinien maybe getting possessed by the eyes of Nidhogg again were misplaced, but also it was a little anticlimactic to be hinting at his return this entire time only for him to show up at the end, destroy the eyes without anyone knowing, and then not get to talk to him. My friend is doing dragoon quests, and I guess he shows up in the 60-70 stuff there, but... I'm not playing a dragoon, I'm playing Dark Knight and Reaper, so... no Estinien for me. Aymeric even mentions if you click on him that they have reports of people seeing "unmistakable dragoon armor" and goes "He wouldn't... would he?" So, like, I guess I don't take it personally, he's not here to see ANYONE, but it's anticlimactic and a bummer. Him breaking the ceruleum pipeline to cripple the Garlean forces was rad, we owe him a lot, maybe he could show up and we could say THANKS? No? Fine :T

I also really, REALLY wish they had focused more on Ala Mhigo's liberation rather than Doma's. It rang a bit hollow to see all these NPCs singing the Ala Mhigan anthem at the end after Zenos was killed. I REALLY like Raubahn and Lyse, those are two strong characters from Ala Mhigo whose pain and drive in freeing their home I fully buy into, I want to see them succeed . But the entire part about building up Ala Mhigo and instilling hope into its people was shunted to off-screen terriroty. So, seeing Raubahn give his son his old sword to free their homeland is sweet, and Lyse taking over as leader when Conrad dies, and decrying Fordola as a traitor are all potentially powerful moments, but they just... fell so flat for me? I think especially given how much time Lyse spent in Doma with the WoL helping them there, you never get the impression that she's learned enough about Ala Mhigo's suffering and plight to earn the right to inherit leadership of the resistance. It's such a shame because I really like Lyse and I think they COULD have built her up to accept a leadership position, but it felt... hollow.

I'm especially disappointed because again, I really like Lyse, and now she's leaving the Scions to stay and focus on leading the Resistance to help forge an actually stable new system of rulership, which. Yay, that's smart, that's good, if they're gonna have her take over as the leader, at least they'll have her focused on it. But it sucks because they keep doing this to my favorite character from an expansion now. Aymeric managed to survive only to get relegated to faction leader, and while we do get to see him as part of the Alliance (he's even here to help liberate Ala Mhigo!), I also like, miss him and want to run around with HIM instead of most of the Scions. Because most of the Scions are boring wastes of space who feel nothing and react to nothing and don't care about anything beyond "No! Don't KILL people! That's WRONG!" And like, congrats, babe, you're as complicated and interesting as a teletubby, but without weird and insane lore that leaves me staring into my fridge in horror at 12am.

Anyway, I guess I agree in theory with the philosophy that it's better to want MORE of a character than for them to wear out their welcome, and I grant you that the most compelling things about Aymeric and Lyse are their devotion to their people, but MAN. It sucks. Especially because again, besides the twins and Lyse, the Scions did nothing for me.

Y'shtola has potential if they can make her be as snarky and acerbic as her mentor, we love a catty bitch (haha. get it?). She's had a couple of snarky moments that I loved, I want more of them. Y'shtola can be a rock of stability, that's fine, just don't make her a rock of emotional stiffness or availability, that's boring.

Thancred is largely tiresome when they try to make him seem "cool" but he's fun and enjoyable when he's the butt of a joke. He's an archetype that largely exhausts me, and frankly got so bogged down in...WEIRD vibes with whatever they were doing with Minfilia, that I don't know what can be done to save him at this point. They don't seem to know what to do with him, more than any of the rest of the Scions, and it shows, and boy does he suffer for it.

Urianger is barely a character at all, and after 200+ hours of story, I don't have much hope he'll ever have wants or any kind of drive beyond facilitating the plot, but he can be our autistic cryptid. It's fine. I know they said he was Moenbryda's childhood friend, but I'm pretty sure he sprang into being whole cloth out of some mushrooms or mold that was growing out of an ancient tome in a forgotten corner of some vast library. He's not a believable person.

And Krile is... here, I guess. Sometimes her comments feel unearned because I don't know anything about her, so her just showing up to give Alphie shit feels kinda mean because like... it's one thing when friends give each other shit, but I don't know her like that, and it feels like Estinien picking on Alphinaud all over again. She also keeps insisting on like, "Oh, Alphy and trying to impress girls," and "Oh, Thancred, clearly in love with Minfilia," and like. This is Final Fantasy, m'am, nobody can ever in-canon acknowledge they like anyone, why are you the personification of enforcing heteronormativity, this game's one saving grace is that sure, maybe no one's gay, but no one's straight either lol.

Ugh. Whatever. Onward and forward. We'll see where this goes.

#Caitlin Plays FF14 #FF14 spoilers

[xiv-wolfram]

Cold - Comic Script

Stormblood - lvl 69

WolfBahn are forced to share a tent. Awkwardness ensues. SFW but more PG-13 than the usual.

Wolfram Saga Comics (Chronological)

This is the script for a future comic. Posting for those who don’t want to wait to get the story. Numbers indicate frame number. A/B mean a frame is split.

Zoomed out shot of the camp at the entrance to the Lochs. Narrator - "After claiming Castrum Abania, the resistance sets up camp in the Lochs. Wolfram and Raubahn have been getting closer lately, which has not gone unnoticed by the Warrior of Light's friend Thancred - The only Scion Wolf has told about their past relationship." 

Wolf and Rau standing around talking. Thancred looking at them, an amused smile on his face - 'They're so slow. It’s already rumored among the troops that they’re together. Perhaps they simply need another push to make rumors reality?'

Thancred walks up to them, putting on a fake worried expression - "We seem to have lost a tent. The two of you don't mind sharing, right?" Wolf raises an eyebrow at Thancred, slightly annoyed. Thought - 'Well this scenario is familiar.' Rau glances at Wolf - ‘Well, this is interesting…’

Thancred quickly walks off before they can answer. Wolf crosses his arms, glaring after Thancred with a suspicious expression. Thought - 'I’d wager this is another of Thancred's schemes to reunite us. Fortunately unlike his last attempt - we aren’t drunk. It may be difficult for me… Nah, we’ll be fine.' Rau smirks - "Are you still a blanket hogger?"

It’s night. Inside a tent (prop?). Wolfram and Raubahn are laying on the same mattress under a blanket. Rau at the center but Wolf is as far as he can be to the left side of the thin mattress. Rau asleep facing away, lying on his right side. Wolf is awake staring at the roof with a worried expression. Thought - 'Tomorrow is the day…everything we've been fighting for. We'll finally defeat the Garleans and take back our homeland.' Dark Thought - 'A wasted effort. Zenos is too strong. You'll never liberate Ala Mhigo. Not without my aid.'

Wolf sighs, hand to head. Thought - 'I shouldn't be worried. I've prepared for this, yet I’m more nervous than I’ve been before any other battle… Having to share a tent with Rau certainly isn't helping the stress. We're so close I can feel his body heat...' Dark Thought - 'Oh here you go with your pathetic pining again. If you want to fuck him just go ahead. I tire of whatever this is you've been doing with him.'

Wolf turns onto his right side, looking at Rau across the tent, smiles sadly. Thought - "I want him… so badly it hurts. I want to hold him, kiss him, and tell him how much I still love him. How I've always loved him and always will… So aye, I can't help but behave flirtatiously on occasion. Yet he's made it clear I am only viewed as a friend. Anyroad, I’m a walking prison for a monster. It matters not what I want." Dark Thought - 'You've become an expert at lying to yourself. You know how he feels when he looks at you. Especially the other day, when you wore that dancer outfit.'

Wolf ponders. Thought - 'Anyone would feel similar upon seeing me in that outfit. I look damned good for my age. He may be my friend, but he's still a man with needs. I do believe I could bed him if I made the attempt… Yet the idea of having only his body sounds more painful than not having him at all.' Dark Thought - 'Sympathetic fool. You should take what you can get and be grateful. It’s still more than a waste of aether like you deserves. Wake him up. Offer The Bull a ride.' 

Wolf moves closer to Rau. Thought - ‘Perhaps…I could try it? Ysayle and I were certainly able to enjoy each other's bodies while remaining close friends. At the very least it would cool this fire in my veins for a night.'

Wolf spooning Rau, worried expression. *heart pounding* Thought - 'Although… with her we truly were just friends even if I’d hoped to open my heart to her in time. Yet my heart is already wide open with him… every beat sounding his name! This was a horrible idea! I'm an idiot, listening to a godsdamned voidsent! What was I thinking?!'

Rau wakes to Wolf holding him. Rau smiles - "Wolf, what are you doing? Is aught amiss?" Thought - “Finally.” Wolf blushing, embarrassed - "I um…I uh…I'm cold?" Dark Thought - 'Pathetic coward.'

A) Rau yawns. Thought - “Suppose not.” Say - "Well, we certainly can't have our strongest fighter getting sick before the battle, can we?" B) Rau turned around, facing Wolf. Wolf beams - "T-Thank you, my friend. I um…couldn't find any more blankets in the camp."

Rau pulls him closer. Wolf blushes, beaming. Thought - 'Well I certainly didn't expect this reaction…it's nice.’

Rau holds Wolf close to his chest, smiling - "Mhmm… anytime". Thought - 'If not what I’d hoped for - this is still a pleasant surprise. Surely he'd have gotten used to the cold in Ishgard…' Wolf closes his eyes, still smiling.

Wolf falls asleep. (Snoring noises.) Rau beams, thought - 'His snoring is still so cute. Damn me, but I *need* to kiss him…'

A) Rau gently runs a hand through Wolf’s hair. B) Rau kisses the sleeping Wolf’s forehead.

Rau smiles, his eyes closing, whispers - 'Goodnight Wolfram Vought… I love you.'

Nighttime - zoomed-out shot of them snuggling in bed.

Early morning. Zoomed-in shot of Wolf spooning Rau as they sleep.

A) Rau awakens, sleepy expression. *yawns* B) Rau surprised, blushing, whispers - "Um.. Wolf, are you awake?" Thought - 'Seven hells, he certainly *feels* awake.'

Wolf grumbles and shifts, moving his arm to Rau's lower hip. 

A) Rau worried expression, blushing. Thought - 'Oh gods, what do I do? Much more of this and I'll have the same problem…' B) Rau ponders, grinning. Thought - 'Is that a bad thing? I'd certainly enjoy relieving him of this…burden.'

A) Rau confused expression. Thought - 'He has been flirtatious of late. I believe he has feelings for me, yet I can’t be certain. That night in Ishgard lingers in my mind…He suggested we agree it didn't happen.’ B) Rau sighs, furrowed brow. Thought - ‘Anyroad, he can choose to use his empathic gift whenever he wants. Surely he knows how strongly I feel for him. Yet he has said naught…so either he isn’t ready or feels nothing. I pray it’s the former.'

Rau sits up, looking back at Wolf and smiling sadly. Thought - 'Aye… I'd better leave. Find a cold stream and just appreciate last night for what it was… enjoying keeping my friend warm. I must ignore these feelings and steel myself for the battle ahead.'

Zoomed out shot. Later on in the morning. Wolf wakes, patting the mattress, confused expression - "...Rau?"

Wolf sits up, looking around. Thought - 'Last night…what was I thinking? Using the "I'm cold" excuse to be held because I'm worried about the battle… and too cowardly to ask him for the relief I wanted?' Dark Thought - 'That was indeed pathetic, but not as pathetic as…'

Wolf looking down, blushing, /facepalm - "Fuck". Thought - ‘It appears I have the libido of my much younger self around him. I hope like hells he didn't notice. If the Garleans don't kill me today - the embarrassment would surely finish me off.'

Wolfram Saga Comics (Chronological)

#ffxiv #ffxiv wol #oc wolfram #hyur highlander #ffxiv oc #hyur #wolbahn #wolcomic #raubahn #raubahn aldynn #wolfbahn #WolframSaga

[chiclet-go-boom]

FFXIV | ENDWALKER

this is kinda long and doesn't contain Endwalker spoilers specifically but does talk about how the story happens in Shadowbringers, so if you haven't played up to and through that expansion, keep going amigo!

__________

So, my playtime during the week for video games is traditionally quite small (ie, time between Get Home and Go To Sleep is only about five-ish hours and I have to squeeze cooking dinner and chores in there) and has shrunk to nearly nothing with the two hour queue times for the Endwalker early access.

So right now once I get in, I've only got about about an hour (two at best) to get anything done which in a cut-scene heavy story like Endwalker isn't going to take me places particularly quickly. So I am now basically churning my wheels in mud until Saturday when I can get back on and like, go to town on the story for the whole day.

So in absence of anything resembling progression, I'm reduced to just having to think about it.

So I've been thinking about it and my god, social media is the best thing ever because now I can post about it too. So a bit of background here:

Like everyone else, by the time I finished Heavensward I was not only hooked by this game, I was filleted and fried. From the Steps of Faith to the Final Steps of Faith, I couldn't put the game down. I consumed the MSQ in great, gulping chunks, desperate to know what was happening.

Was Aymeric stringing us along, on the surface a proponent of peace and reconciliation, or was he just another Teledji Adeledji in a taller, more pleasing Elezen package? What was Thordan going to want from us in exchange for this begruding sanctuary? Could we prevent civil war from breaking out between the downtrodden poor and their High House oppressors even as the dragons were poised for yet another assault in a thousand year series of devastating attacks - better yet, did I even want to try?

Did Ishgard deserve to finally fall?

Then, you know, Aymeric on the ground with a knife in his ribs. Then, you know, the Vault. Then, you know, The Singularity Reactor and as Thordan dies, he asks the burning question that is actually starting to haunt me - what ARE you?

I don't know what I am. I'm starting to worry that nobody does.

After the Vault, I couldn't touch the game for about a week except in the most nominal, casual ways. Chipping some rocks. Running my squadron through a dungeon. Checking the market board in the forlorn hopes of finding something pretty in my price range (0-poor).

I was really, really shaken by... I've spend a minute trying to find a poetic way to say that when Haurchefant died to save me, I know that I lost something because I felt it all the way down to the core of me. And the worst part is, I can't even say what. Just something was gone that I didn't even know I had held so close, some feeling of rightness in the world that he would always be there and always greet me like his most beloved friend and would always, always have my back.

And he was dead and lost in a heartbeat, just like that.

After The Final Steps of Faith, I couldn't play again. I was standing in Castrum Oriens and Raubahn needed my attention and I couldn't give it. I didn't want to be helping anyone else, running hither and yon. I didn't want to move any farther away from the snows of Ishgard and the last glimpse of Haurchefant turning away from me and I didn't need anybody else's problems because my heart missed all my people so much. I wanted so much to be back in Aymeric's room, drinking wine and laughing. I wanted to sit by a grave and cry. I wanted to hear more of Estinien's voice, dryly putting Alphinaud in his place and Alphinaud spluttering in defense.

But Stormblood and Lyse and Arvenvald and Fordola happened. Hien and Yotsuyu and the xaela happened. Zenos gave me somebody to hate unreservedly because at this moment I don't care how he got where he is, he just plain needed to be staked to the ground and his heart torn out so he never got back up again. And oh, wasn't that prophetic.

I don't want to hear about a murdered sister. I don't want to hear about a grief-ravaged brother. I needed something clean and savage and righteous and Stormblood gave me that in spades.

Then it gave me Shadowbringers.

This is where I just flounder, because I've never been hit quite this hard by a fictional anything before. Sure, I've had books that have held me riveted. I've watched movies that made me care. I've even watched the odd television series that kept me tuning in to find out what happened for a few seasons.

But this - this is something I've never really encountered before and because its half movie and half book and half again something else between the two, I'm just kinda emotionally lost.

What you need to understand is that when I realized I was going to have to kill Emet-Selch, that there wasn't going to be any sort of different conclusion or sideways fake, I felt like I felt after The Vault - incredibly heartsick; stricken even. The kind of feeling where you sit there and want to cover your mouth with your hands so nobody can see your lips tremble - that instinctive urge to hide weakness because it hurts.

And it hadn't even happened yet.

And it just became more and more obvious, more and more inevitable that this was going to go down how I really didn't want it to go down at all or quite frankly ever - that both me and my character were locked into this final, wretched resolution.

Because Emet-Selch was right. His loved ones, his world, his people, his paradise - it was shattered but it wasn't truly gone, wasn't completely lost. There could be enough power to fix it, to return things to where they were before it all went so wrong. And for thousands of years, he and his brothers lifted that boulder back up the hill, over and over again.

Seven times they succeeded. Seven times did they piece together the shards. Each time it no doubt got harder and harder because mountains do not become flatter the closer you get to the peak. They were so close to the eighth, with one world stopped on the brink of the collapse by an avatar's last strength and the other all but ripe to receive it.

And Emet-Selch turns to me near the end of things and says, "Do you really think yourselves the only ones worthy? When you could not, would not have done what we did." And Elidibus says, "You fail and you fail and you fail and you learn nothing, let it all fall through your fingers." Their claim to this star was deeper, vaster, more desperate than mine. I want only to preserve the lives of my friends and by that extension save the ones I care nothing about. They want to make the world whole again, one painstaking, screaming piece at a time.

If Emet-Selch grinds the shards under his heel as he does? Well, at the end it will be complete again, will it not? And all the damage caused along the way will no longer matter.

So why does this speak so much to me? Why I am sitting here with an Endwalker bingo card that has a single square that I pin so much into and onto that simply says "Summon Emet-Selch" - which, of course, is the polite way to say he's mine he's mine give him back to me you bastards.

Because the reason is - if I could turn back time and bring Haurchefant back, sundered and alive and smiling, I would. I know I would. I would risk almost everything in service to that, because even if it was meant to be, even if his death was the one necessary thing to pave the way for all else afterwards - the drive for revenge that had us chase Thordan to the ground and kill him there and thereby raise Aymeric into the needed power to be able to call for his peace and make it stick - I would still reject it and reach for something selfish.

And in my real life, which is where all this tangled, half-grieving, hard to quantify feeling is welling up from that I pin to this story, it comes from things also broken and unretrievable and unable to be recovered from long ago graves. This speaks to me so strongly, this one driving urge to just - fix it. Make it so that it never happened at all.

I have a tattoo on my wrist and it stands for greed. I will always, always choose myself and I need to remind myself and others of what that means - what I will risk over and over again in service of that one compulsion to take and sink claws into and consume what I believe I am owed.

Superman turned back the world to save the woman he loved. Emet-Selch crushes them as a rich man crushes grapes between his teeth. I would throw Ishgard back into war to return to me one, singular voice.

I want to know why, looking back, Lahabrea was so adamant on violent confrontation as the only option. I wanted Elidibus not to have failed, for all that I will never let G'raha Tia go. I wanted so much for Emet-Selch to have found a better path that perhaps he and I could have come to consensus on, could have been allies with. I wish that I could have held that Light, that I had been just that little bit stronger to prove I was worthy enough to be able to help find that mythical better way. When instead I gained that strength only at the last and I used it to carve a hole through a man who had survived so much already. Who had brought such unimaginable pain to the person who was my Other life. Who I both loved and hated so strongly that I cannot untangle it at all. 

I guess I just really, really want not to walk out at the end of this story still grieving for having destroyed something that I really should have known to cherish.

#ffxiv #endwalker #shadowbringers #ffxiv shadowbringers spoilers #emet-selch #tag for ascians

[pyrrhesia]

FF14Write - ‘Fluster’

In which Cwenthryth Sadler feels a pull.

Aislona’s still @catpella’s.

It had been an empty few months for Cwenthryth Sadler. She'd spent much of them drinking. Drink pushed the memoriesto the back of her head. Yeah... she'd had a good thing going, once. Had herself a job. Had herself a woman. Screwed it all up, though, hadn't she. Taking Monetarist coin, looking the other way. Coming clean about it all. Not that she'd had much choice. "Just tell me," Aislona had said. "Just tell me you didn't know. Tell me you didn't stand by and let this happen." She knew what to say. She just couldn't say it. The lie stuck in her chest, like they always did. "They would have killed us both. Like what happened to Wilred--" "Gods, you knew?" "I tried to keep him quiet. He wouldn't listen. Now he's dead. We're alive, and can--" "Stop, just... just stop, Cwen." Aislona pinched the bridge of her nose. "I just can't believe you think like this. Did you think? Or did you just let it wash over you? Did you care for even a second--" "I cared. But it didn't matter, or mean anything." Cwenthryth tried to reach for Aislona's arm, but she snatched it away. "We're alive. And we can still make a difference." "'We'?" Aislona laughed, grimly. "'We' are over, Cwen. I need to be with people I can trust to watch my back, not slip a knife into it." Cwenthryth gasped. Words formed and collapsed in her mouth, nothing seemed able to dam the flood of... of whatever this was. All she could say in the end, was, "You can trust me." Aislona looked into the middle distance, biting her lip as the night masked the wetness of her eyes. "I wish I could," she said, before turning to leave. Cwenthryth, unconscious, grabbed her arm, but the roegadyn yanked it away, leaving her fingers trailing one last time on her smooth skin. Some time later, Cwenthryth said, for the first time in her life, "I love you." But the empty alley had no answers for her. Yeah. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Memories and nothing more. It had been a good thing, nothing more. She'd slept with plenty of people since. Some of them had even talked to her first. Whatever. She'd find her way back on her feet. Still... there was a frustration. A restlessness. She kept her head down, these days. It was all she could do. Lurked in shadows on the fringes of civilisation, grew out her hair to try and differentiate herself from her wanted poster - a poor likeness, in truth, and it had misspelt her name, anyway - figured if the Braves hadn't forgiven her she must be doing something right. But she still had to watch, and wait, careful to nurse her pint anonymously at the corner of the room as two bluecoats bankrupted themselves on ale. Cwenthryth kept track in the back of her head. C'mon, lads, she knew they didn't pay you enough for this much... Oh well. All to her advantage. In time, they left. She followed. Better a wolf than a sheep.

Ultimately she'd left them alive, out of pity. Besides, one had told her something very interesting, which was why she was now camped on the outskirts of Halatali, watching and waiting. It was a mad thought of redemption that had brought her here, and she cursed herself for it regularly. She had no chance of an assault head-on, but perhaps if she could cause enough chaos... and guards dropping dead to arrows from an unseen vantage point tended to cause chaos. She'd seen Raubahn take half an opening before. If she could just give him that much again... The thought of getting help never occured to her. Besides, who would listen to her? Neither fish nor fowl, Scion nor Brave... Her ears pricked up. She heard the wagon trundling down the road. Would that she had a better ambush planned, but... she tensed and strung her bow, slipped her quiver over her back, heard the faint movement behind her back and turned with a single, fluid motion, driving her dirk forward-- -- it deflected off a raised spear and clattered out of her hand. The image clarified. Cwenthryth drew in a sharp breath. "Aislona?" The towering roegadyn smiled, mirthless. "You'd really have all the fun without me, Cwen?" Confusion won out over confusion. "Fun? I wasn't here for fun." "I meant--" "I'm not playing games. This is an ambush. It's more killing. It isn't fun," said Cwenthryth, increasingly agitated. "But I have to. They can't just--" "You're here for Raubahn?" "Yes. I heard off one of the blue-coats. Can't just let them take him." There was something knowing in Aislona's look. "Then, perhaps... no, look, you'd best come with me and see the others." They walked in silence for a time. Cwenthryth's heart raced. So much to say, so little felt right. Eventually, she heard: "It's good to have you back, Cwen."

It was not an opening they won, in the end. Aislona had brought the strength to simply assault the prison complex head-on. Cwenthryth fought well, cold-blooded and fearless, as she always had. It was not remarkable, in her mind. This was the one thing she'd ever been good at. And the focus of her task let her tune out the looks her comrades were giving her. The day was theirs. They secured their quarry, repulsed the enemy and emerged to the setting Thanalan sun. Cwenthryth sighed, shouldered her bow and started to walk away. Her work was done. Surely they wouldn't want her to linger. After all, as Aislona had told her... "Where are you going?" Not that. Cwenthryth looked back, saw Aislona coming her way. She shrugged. "Away. Somewhere." Aislona cocked her head. "Why?" "Because it's over." "No. It's not over, not even close." "Yeah, well." Cwenthryth shrugged again, and tried to swallow the pain. "Doubt you'll want anyone around you can't trust. Doubt you've got much reason to take me in." Aislona's expression softened. "Cwen... where do you even have to go to?" Cwenthryth glared back. "Don't take pity on me. Don't you ever dare take pity on me. I made my choices, and this is where it's got me. I looked the other way as... as everything turned to shit, and it's too late now to say you didn't mean what you said back then, lost too much time thinking on them over and bloody over, about how I'll never be..." She drew out a hissing little breath, and turned back towards the road. "I was never going to be what you deserved. Stupid of either of us to think any different." She made it a few steps before hearing Aislona say, "You're right, I meant everything I said... then. But I'm still sorry. You did a good thing today, Cwen. Nobody made you do it, nobody paid you to do it. I know you're capable of more." Stubbornly, she kept walking. Until she heard the footsteps behind her, and arms wrap around her, and her body sank back into the embrace. "Please stay." It was all, really, she needed to hear.

#FFxivWrite2021 #fluster #it didn't shape out right #but it's about completion #not quality

[starsfreckled-archived]

exiles .

“doma is gone. razed to the ground as an example to the other provinces.”

at those words, amaya stands up, her entire body tense. she doesn’t even realize how besides alphinaud and their guests, other people in the quicksand turn around to look at her. “why have we not heard of it... the alliance should have helped... they...” she looks to alphinaud who gives her a pitying look.

how could they have send help. amaya knows best what it took to take down the ultima weapon. they couldn’t fight on all these fronts, especially one so far away. taking a deep breath, the raen sits back down, arms crossed. despite the hood and mask, amaya can feel yugiri looking at her. an unspoken question lingering in the air that she decides to answer.

“I am sure my name and appearance have already given it away, but I am doman” amaya says, her fingers digging into the leather of her sleeve. “well doman born. my parents fled to gridania when I was little.”  “so that is why you sound eorzean” amaya nods before gesturing with her hand for yugiri to continue. they could talk about such things later, now she wanted to know more about doma’s fate.

by the end of the tale, amaya takes her cup into her hands, turning it around for a while. “we planned to help from the beginning, but rest assured that I will do my most to make sure that you and your people will find a safe place to stay.” they are my people too, a voice nags in her head that she tries to ignore. had she even the right to think that? she barely had a memory of doma. if not for the lack of an au ra population within eorzea and her name, nobody would ever think that the champion of eorzea was a refugee.

- -

as they stand in front of the syndicate, amaya listens to yugiri’s pleas for help, to let them stay, to give them a place to gather their strength again. she doesn’t know ul’dah’s politics that well and perhaps it is her naivety, but she cannot imagine anyone sending those souls away. and at first she seems right, with teledji speaking in favor of the refugees. until lolorito speaks, until he speaks of violence and criminals and...

“I saved you!” amaya slams her hands down on the table, glaring at the lalafell. everyone goes silent to stare at the champion. “I saved you - all of you - I am a refugee myself, which I am certain all of you here know, I am not that stupid, I know rich folks have looked into my past. then here it is: my father and mother were part of doma’s rebellion. they fled with me and lord kaien’s blessing to eorzea and settled in gridania. until his death did my father supply doma with goods and weapons or medicine. these people you are sending away, are my people! you owe me their safety, because you owe your lives to my deeds.”

it is the first time she had ever requested anything for her own self. the first time she brings up all she’s done for these people. her hands are still on top of the desk and her eyes glare at lolorito the same way she had stared at garleans and ascians alike. and he smirks. “as said, it seems most are prone to rather aggressive behavior - ah do not take it as an insult, champion - as you rightfully deduced, yours was a saving grace. but mayhap you should then look for gridania’s help and not ours, since it is the place that took you in”

“you know that is impossible” amaya answers. “with the people here negotiations are possible, you all listen to reason - or greed and money, whatever sways you, really - but elementals are different. especially after the calamity” perhaps beforehand it would have been possible, but now? she doubts the woods would allow over 200 unknown souls to enter, even if they did perform the ritual. the amount of cases of greenwrath had become worse after the calamity.

lolorito shrugs, still wearing that smirk “how unfortunate. but just as the elementals protect the woods, so does the syndicate protect ul’dah” and her coffers, amaya adds mentally as she watches the men and women vote on peoples fate and lives. as most of them walk out, amaya scoffs, staring after them.

she wants to scream, wants to yell that the next time some form of disaster looms over them, she would not do anything for ul’dah and leave her to the wolves... but she knows better. the people were not to blame. and the sultana and raubahn would welcome the refugees with open arms if they could. sill. she is half tempted to ask if the ultima weapon could be build again and if she could feed lolorito to it.

amaya walks out with the remaining people, hands balled to fists but after a moment she seems to collect herself. “do not worry” the raen addresses yugiri “we will find a solution. maybe that scene in there convinced you of something else, but my word does hold some weight and...” here she rests a hand on alphinaud’s shoulder “the kid here can be a know it all. but he is so justifiably, there is barely a mind that can hold a candle to his. he’s brilliant, far smarter than I am. and the other scions too, one of them will think of something.” she promises in a soft tone.

and when she looks at alphinaud, she can already see the gears turning in his head, making her smile 

“...I know that look, spit it out kid, you got an errand for me to run, don’t you?”

#❝ ᵇᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵗᵉᵉᵗʰ ˡᶦᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒˡᵈ ʷᶦⁿᵈ ᵘᵖᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒᵒʳˢ ❞╱ about . #❝ ᵃ ʷᵃˢᵗᵉ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵖ ❞╱ little creations . #long post cw

[jenovahh]

A Long Fall - Gaius x OC

Rating: T Pairing: Gaius x OC A quick lil bit an art trade with @faunna! Hope I captured your OC well! =========================================================== It is well past midnight (or rather it feels like it) and though Yanelis would never admit to anyone, not even herself, she is filled to the brim with worry.

She has long since been changed for bed, her usually free flowing hair now neatly tucked in french braids so that her tresses will curl on the morrow. Though she is not in her usual day wear, her pajamas are no less finer than any of the dresses in her closet. With slippered feet she had tried to find different kinds of busy work to occupy her mind: pulling weeds in the garden, preparing dinner, cleaning the bathroom twice. 

And still he has not returned home.

She resolves that as soon as the bell does strike twelve to shed her night wear and don her usual healing robes and march right out to Ala Mhigo to see what is taking that man so damn long. Her tail whips in agitation, fast like a whip as it accidentally thumps against a nearby cabinet. Her eyes are trained on the door despite her best efforts, praying to any of the Twelve that listen, that he just comes home.

The hour grows progressively late, topaz eyes glaring at the door almost angrily, as if willing it to open and have her lover on the other side. Glancing at a nearby clock, it is barely fifteen minutes past ten, but unfortunately her concern outweighs her reason. Kicking off her slippers, she angrily stomps her way to her bedroom, stopping only as she hears an untimely thud against the front door.

Freezing in place, her preternatural eyes dart around for any potential weapons, but stops as she hears the sound of a key being clumsily shoved into the whole. The latches flip and the door flies open, revealing a handsome, but haggard looking man.

Relief floods through her chest immediately, nearly tripping over her forgotten slippers in her haste to greet the imposing figure at her door. With skin as dark as the earth that gives life, he bumbles through the door, looking seemingly okay until he falters, grunting in pain as he crashes down to one knee.

“Gaius!”

Yanelis is at his side in an instant, falling to her knees with little disregard for her silken bedwear. “Are you well? Should I fetch my robes--”

Gaius gives a soft chuckle, more to himself than anything as he tries to stand back to his feet, pride lending him strength.

Unfortunately all pride lends him is embarrassment as he crashes back to the floor.

Fussing over him like a mother hen, Yanelis quickly checks for any external bleeding, glad to see any lacerations and wounds are not too deep and can be mended with a few healing spells. He’ll sport some deep purple bruises in the morning, this she can tell, but she needs to help him survive until the next morn.

“Clothes off. Now.” She demands, grabbing him by his right arm. He groans in protest, a mixture of indignation and pain but acquiesces all the same as he leans onto her for support. Despite her petite frame compared to his lean build, she has all the strength needed to help him limp into the bathroom. Sitting him on the privy, she leans over to start the water to running, setting it to a nice hot temperature to help soothe his aches and wash away any evils.

“How are you this beaten up?” Yanelis finds herself asking, turning around to immediately reach for his tattered coat, wrenching it off nigh forcefully given her frustration. Gaius groans mutely in protest but shrugs his shoulder and arms out of the dirty garment, allowing her to begin working on his shirt next. “I demand an answer.”

Gaius’ lips move but whatever he says comes out in a grumble, only serving to further incite her ire.

“Has the Black Wolf grown so meek that he cannot answer a simple question?” She huffs, hands on her hips as she bends closer, minding her horns. “Speak up, lest I nearly impale your head trying to hear you.”

“I had told you this morning why I had left, had I not?” Gaius finally speaks, his voice scratchy and worn.

“Yes, you had told me you would be heading to examine the Emerald Weapon; not fight in a godsdamned war. Or at least, come home looking like you did.” Try as she might she cannot hide the concern in her voice, and she can tell by the glint in his eyes that he’s picked up on it too. However, this seems to make him even more embarrassed, turning his face away like some sort of petulant child. “Gaius. What. Happened?”

He is silent a few moments more before grumbling again, standing to his feet. Stumbling backward from his sudden movement, Yanelis’ face goes scarlet as his hands reach for his breeches and begin tugging them downward. “By the Twelve-” Spinning on her heel, she quickly exits the bathroom, closing the door shut behind her.

Heart racing, she takes a moment to breathe, before hearing the lock click shut behind her. She turns the knob but the door won’t budge, and she stamps her foot in anger. “Gaius van Baelsar!” She shouts, realizing she’s been had.

“I will be out in a moment.” His voice carries under the door, along with a blissful sigh coupled with the sound of sloshing water.

Pleased for now, Yanelis pads up the aged stairs to gather her supplies. She would need her staff to heal the larger cuts and could most likely bandage the rest. Worry still niggles the back of her mind,  but he is home and safe and for that she is already grateful. Supplies in hand, she realizes she spaced out longer than intended and heads for the stairs.

Just as she rounds the corner, she spies Gaius there in a towel wrapped somewhat loosely around his slender hips, his expression looking caught. Yanelis feels herself flush red seeing the last few droplets of water running down his  brown skin, his skin still maintaining a slight moisture from his bath.

Clearing her throat, she pins him with her most indignant look. "And where do you think you're going?"

Frowning, Gaius avoids her eyes. "I was going to get changed, madam." He drawls sarcastically. 

Huffing,  Yanelis descends by one stair.  "Since you're feeling so cheeky, then you're clearly well enough to sit awhile longer so that I can bandage your wounds. Stay down there, I will return with a change of clothes."

Fixing her with a withering glare, Gaius sighs knowing the battle already lost, but he must say his piece. "I am not a child."

"Then don't act like one. Down. Stairs. " She orders, grinning as he turns around and trudges back down the stairs. Turning on her heel she heads into their bedroom, immediately heading for his dresser to retrieve a loose nightshirt and some pants, she hustles down the stairs with her arms bursting with things.

She finds him in the kitchen shoving his shirt and pants at him before turning to head into the den, back turned so that he may have some semblance of privacy. “And don’t even think about sneaking back upstairs or I’m putting you out.” She calls over her shoulder, walking around the couch to set her things down on the coffee table. The scratches and dents stick out to her most often during these times, the poor table used as a makeshift operating table more often than not. She often joked to herself that Gaius got himself banged up on purpose knowing she could heal him.

“Let’s get this over with.”

His rough voice jolts her from her thoughts, nearly jumping out her scales as Gaius rounds the wide couch and plops himself on it rather unceremoniously. His face is contorted in a way that looks as if he is trying not to pout, eyebrows pinched together in what is pure annoyance and thinly veiled pain.

“Well if you want to sleep and bleed all out over the ground outside, do be my guest.” Yanelis huffs, crossing her arms petulantly as Gaius cuts her a withering glare. 

“Just...heal me you stubborn woman.” He groans, sitting forward, releasing his tension so that she may move him how she likes.

Having gotten her way, Yanelis hums happily as she reaches for her staff and immediately seeks out the deepest cuts, the top of the staff glowing a healthy green in tandem with her hand over his skin. She winces as he does, holds herself back from hissing with him as the skin knits together beneath her palm, eyes closed in complete focus as she feels magic flow through her.

“That will...never cease to be strange. And yet it also amazes me.” She hears him murmur, his voice having lost its jagged edge. She grins to herself as his hand rests on her knee, fingers rubbing small circles there.

“You know, I joke to myself that you get so beat up because you come home so that I can heal you.” Yanelis teases, placing her staff down now that she’s ensured the bulk of the wound will mend properly. Reaching for bandages, she unrolls a strip in her hand as she meets his dark eyes. “Really, Gaius. How on earth did you get hurt this time? You told me you were going to talk with Raubahn.”

His head hangs immediately at hearing the worry in her voice, pout returning as he finds himself unable to look her in the eye. She grumbles as she wraps his wounds with gauze, cinching tighter than needed as he chooses to keep quiet. “Gaius van Baelsar,”

“I fell.”

The statement is so simple, yet so shocking, she stops her wrapping to stare blankly at him. Were his skin not so dark, she swears his face would be red as a beet. “You...fell?” She repeats.

Groaning loudly, he flops back against the couch. “I hadn’t lied when I said I had gone to visit Raubahn and discuss how we will continue to address the threats of more potential weapons from Garlemald.” He sighs, slapping a hand over his face in shame. “But...seeing us there, a few rookies had wanted to see the Brazen Bull and Black Wolf in action...I humbly declined but Raubahn thought a friendly spar would be good for morale.”

She watches as he hazards a glance at her, but her face has frozen in mild shock.

“It had started off completely normal...until I had lost awareness of my surroundings, and took a nasty tumble down the side of a small incline.” He huffs,  running a hand through his silken hair. “Raubahn insisted I see a medicus before returning home, but I declined and made the trek here instead. I was...expecting you to be out on business.”

It is silent for a few moments more as she continues to stare at him.

And then she laughs.

Twelve above, it is probably the ugliest laugh she has ever released in a good while, but she cannot help herself as she drops the gauze from her hand and nearly keels over from laughter.

From the corners of her eyes, tears spring and she can see Gaius’ pout become more pronounced as he yanks the gauze she dropped and continues to wrap his wounds himself. “I’m glad you find it so amusing.” He drones as her cheeks begin to hurt.

“Oh goodness,” She practically wheezes, a giggle slipping out here or there. “Oh your poor pride. I hope they didn’t laugh at you too hard.” She titters, smacking his hands away so that she can bandage him up properly.

“No. Unlike you they were actually concerned for my well being and didn’t laugh.” He snaps, throwing her an angry look, but she’s known him long enough to tell it has no bite to it. She can see that while embarrassed, her laughter has at least redirected her concern from thinking he had gotten into some terrible battle without telling her.

“I am concerned!” She snickers, reaching to peck his cheek. His resulting grumble only amuses her further as she feels his skin heat up beneath her touch. “How about I make your favorite tea, hmm? I’m sorry for laughing at you.” 

Fixing her with an unamused expression, he rolls his eyes. “Very well.”

Yanelis reaches to give him another kiss on the cheek but Gaius quickly turns his face to where her lips meet his. Flushing red, she sits back down, hands flying up to her petal soft lips as she takes in his bemused expression. Chuckling, he gives her a solid pat on the thigh before standing and heading toward the kitchen. 

“There. Now we’re even.”

#Gaius van Baelsar #FFXIV #Final Fantasy XIV #ff14 #Gaius #faunna #drabble

[onwesterlywinds]

Reluctance

"You have a certain manner of gazing into your coffee when you haven't slept, Grand Steward."

Sairsel Arroway would never have said such a thing while he had been living under her roof. Though she offered him the most rueful of smiles she could muster, she relished this change in him. Theirs was a conversation she sorely needed, and one she much preferred to have now that he was far less terrified of her than he used to be.

Sairsel bounced his foot a little underneath the table, letting Argath snap his jaws playfully against the sides of his worn leather boot. "It's as if you've realized you've been holding a cup of mud the entire time."

"There's a retort I could make there about rangers and eating dirt."

He let out a quiet laugh, but his expression sobered almost at once. "Regardless. I hope Raubahn isn't making needless demands on your time."

She smirked at the mere thought of it. "Twelve, no." Rest of any sort was in minimal supply, but she owed relatively few of her waking hours to the new commander of the Resistance. At least for the time being.

"What else, then? Your dreams aren't troubling you?" As the words left his lips, Sairsel peered around the interior of the Keane house, as though Rosenheim had the means to descend from the rafters like a ghost.

"No." Ashe would never forget that Sairsel had been among the first to learn of her Echo and the dreams she shared with her father, long before the reunion of her family had been a mere possibility. "No, not... not in the usual sense." Her gaze fell back to the interior of her coffee cup, and she sighed. "That is, it has nothing at all to do with my father." For once. "These are nightmares of a more... mundane sort."

"I'm hardly surprised," Sairsel murmured. It was to her an innocent enough statement, but he stumbled over himself to clarify it. "That is- I mean only that you've seen more than your share of horrors."

"But you saw him as well, didn't you." Their eyes met, his wide and searching until at last she spoke the name of the man who terrorized her subconscious thoughts. "Zenos."

Sairsel swallowed hard, but he held her stare for several seconds before his admission. "I did. Only once, at the Reach. Just before Meffrid-"

Her stomach sank at the memory of their friend. Neither, it seemed, could Sairsel dredge up the circumstances of Meffrid's passing. When he spoke again, it was with a deep bitterness. "It was... unlike anything I'd seen before, or anything I've seen since. When I heard what Zenos did to you in Castrum Abania, I..." He placed a hand upon the table, as if to reach out for her, then withdrew it with just as much surety. "Ashelia, I am so, so sorry I was not there."

She shook her head. She could not think of harboring a grudge against Sairsel of all people for the path he had chosen, not least of all because he had striven toward Ala Mhigo's liberation no less fervently than she had, in his own way.

"He's back," she whispered. "Sairsel, Zenos has... he's returned, somehow."

"No." The word left him sharply, sterner than nearly anything she'd ever heard from him. She did not retort, did not begrudge him a harshness born of utter dread. "That's impossible, he... I saw his corpse. Morgana saw his corpse."

Morgana Arroway would certainly have opinions on the subject, and neither could Ashe fault her for them. "You must listen to me. I've no idea how - but the Riskbreakers have received reports that Zenos has returned to the Garlean capital. He's been sighted in the imperial palace after a period of convalescence."

Sairsel stood from his chair so swiftly that Argath let out a bark of admonition. "Convalescence?! He damn near cut off his own head!"

"I know," she said, and found she did not need to feign her patience with him. As Sairsel began to pace about the living room, neither his face nor his movements betrayed any anger that she could discern. If anything, his brow was creased with a grave worry. The rhythmic expression of his anxiety, cramped as they were within the relative confines of the Keane house, was in itself a catharsis.

"I don't know what this means," she continued. "But I'm..."

And she could only stare into her coffee once again.

"You can say it, Ashe," said Sairsel at long last. He had halted, if only for a moment, to stare into the roaring hearth. Behind him, Argath slunk off in retreat to his favorite cushion. "I'm frightened, too."

She nodded toward his back. "I should have foreseen it," she said finally. "I should have-"

"How could you possibly have anticipated a Garlean prince coming back from the dead?"

"I saw him, with my Echo. When he had me locked up in-" It was her turn to choke on her own words. In that tank, she thought, though she couldn't quite express herself even in spite of all of Sairsel's solidarity. "I could sense something horribly awry with him. Whether it was from all the aether he'd leeched from Shinryu, or from me, I've no idea." A memory of the previous night's dreams, of Zenos cornering her in the Undercity, of a wyrm's talons piercing her gut, would not shake loose from her mind. "...And I've tried my utmost not to dwell on it, admittedly."

Sairsel turned his head, his features handsome in fire-lit profile. "Would you permit me a question?"

"Always."

"What are these nightmares you're having of him?"

At first she opened her mouth to tell him that they were only nightmares, not premonitions, and that he would have no need to worry of them. But such a statement would be dismissive, not least of all because neither of them had any way of knowing if it was true: her Echo had, after all, granted her new abilities over the course of the past year alone. And the careful tone of Sairsel's voice indicated that he was not seeking out his own placation, but her comfort.

"You mustn't tell another soul," she began.

"Of course."

"Edge is the only one who knows." And if he were not waking up to her screams more often than not, she doubted she would even have told him. "Not even Zaela, not even my father, has any idea. If anyone learned-"

"I swear, Ashelia."

"Do you remember his stride on the battlefield? The way he would walk toward one of his opponents?"

Sairsel's frown deepened. "All too well."

"In my dreams, he's tracking me through the Undercity just like that. His steps are as loud as anything against the stone. And no matter which paths I take, no matter how fast I go or which traps I lay, he'll have me cornered by the end - close enough to run me through, or put me in chains."

"Gods," Sairsel breathed. "You dream this night after night?"

"Most nights," she corrected. "And the dreams differ each time: where I go, when he reaches me. What happens when he does." She tried to read the expression on his face. "It isn't a vision; rather, nothing about it feels prophetic. It simply feels like..."

A deep silence lapsed between them, nearly a minute long, before Ashe realized she had been waiting or hoping for Sairsel to finish her thought for her.

"...Like I've no escape," she finished weakly. "And I wake up feeling more foolish than ever-"

"Why?" he asked, point-blank. "What you're feeling, what you're dreaming - it isn't a weakness."

"I should be able to pull through this. We defeated him and Ilberd's bloody wyrm, and yet I can't stay awake through a single council meeting because he's keeping me up at night."

"None could ever fault you for it. Not after all you've done and given."

"But they do!" she snapped, in a tone much too harsh for the company of friends. Sairsel did not flinch. "I shouldn't give a damn for what any of them think, I know, but when they call me a pretender-"

"I would call you no such thing. Would others?"

She took the briefest of moments to sniffle back tears, to indulge in self-pity for only a moment. "Not friends. But others - yes."

"Others like Morgana?"

"Not only Morgana. Tibost, the one who looks after the markets in the Quarter. The nunh of the M tribe. And that's to say nothing of my critics in the Undercity."

Sairsel took only a moment to glance at her before stalking back over to the table in a few fluid strides and refilling her mug with hot coffee. As he sat back down, his foot settled against hers, and he made no effort to move it away.

"Ashelia," he began. "This council business - is this something you want to do? Truly?"

She gave the question the consideration it was due, watching the tendrils of steam coil from her cup. "...Yes," she replied. "More than almost anything." Short of seeing a world free of Garlemald.

"I think it's telling," Sairsel continued, "that you've spoken not a word of this 'Seraph' you encountered in Dalmasca - yes, Zaela told me about that," he added in response to whatever expression she was surely making, for the word alone brought a heave of nausea to her gut, "and that you mean to carry on with the obligations of the Undercity, the council, and Dalmasca's rebellion efforts. Now Zenos himself has risen from the grave, and you're taking personal responsibility for that as well." He was staring at her more intently than ever now. "You're running yourself ragged."

"You sound like my husband," she grumbled.

"Then listen to him, if not me. Ala Mhigo will be far worse off if you collapse because you've yet to spend any longer than an afternoon tea processing all the ungodly shite you've seen."

"You're hardly one to talk."

The rebuttal was as certain a sign as any that she had naught else to say in her defense, and Sairsel knew it; he raised an eyebrow and slid over the saucer of creamer from the other side of the table. "I'll call in a favor from Raubahn, and try to have him relay reports directly to you for the time being. I'll say nothing of the dreams," he said as she opened her mouth to protest. "But I imagine you'll need him in your corner while you sort this out publicly. Especially where Morgana is concerned."

She poured a few drops of cream into her coffee, then a veritable river, then sipped at the drink until it burned on the way down. "Thank you," she said.

"I have faith in you," Sairsel continued, a little quieter. It was a welcome compliment. "Gods know none of us would be here without you. And in regards to Zenos..." He held out his hand and took hers, still warm from holding her coffee, and again he did not draw back from the touch. "...You can count on me for whatever you need in the days ahead. I swear it."

#Ashelia Riot #Sairsel Arroway #Understory #THEM!!!

[buns-with-a-book]

14 ficlet for some Venting and things that happen. Spoilers abound for post!ARR (but before HW)! For context, my Warrior of Light is a black mage Viera named Lily Wisteriale. 

My apologies if Haurchefant reads as out of character, it’s my first time writing anything for this fandom. 

Everything burned. By the Twelve, did everything burn.

No heavier did any weight fall on her shoulders than what lay now. Her wrists ached from the rope, body bruised from the manhandling, and heart threatening to ram itself out of her chest from what she saw. It all happened so fast, she could still see the sultana's poison-choked corpse before her.

And now, all that was around her was silent frozen snow, a faint comfort to ease the burn of betrayal. Lily Wisteriale, Warrior of Light, master of the black art, daughter of the Black Lily was no stranger to any of it. But this hurt in her heart, threatening to spill over, was a discomfort she hated.

But she couldn't let it out. Not here, alone in the snow and under the stars. Not where witnesses could come across her, Dravarian or strange Coarthian alike. Not where she was vulnerable, in a state that was vulnerable enough as is.

And so she walked. Onward to Dragonhead Keep. Onward with her head high. That's what she had to do, right? To bring the dawn, as the Warrior of Light, with her head held high, a smile on her face, and a visage that bore every confidence that she would get out of this alive.

As she passed through the gates of Dragonhead Keep, across the cobblestone grounds, and through the door with Alphinaud, the voice of a familiar face lifted her dreary spirits.

"Why, friends!" Haurchefant exclaimed with a wide smile on his face. "You're back-"

"Haurchefant, friend, we need to talk in private for a moment." Lily interrupted him, trying not to let her voice break in this moment. Haurchefant's smile faltered briefly, unused to the unintended sharpness in her voice. His eyes lingered on her for a moment as he thought of the words to say.

"Very well. As long as you need, dear friend." He soothed, walking around his desk to rest a careful hand on her shoulder. He guided her out of the fortress to the private incessionary, where she had once met with Ser Amyeric and his commander Lucia. The door closed behind them. "Would you like me to-"

Not a moment he opened his mouth, Lily turned, clinging onto him. Tears and sobbing finally bid freely from the Viera mage, hands digging into the chain of his hauberk. Haurchefant could only stand there, surprised by the outpouring of emotion from Lily.

"T-They're gone! Dead! The Scions, Raubahn, Nanamo, oh Nanamo!" She wailed into his shoulder. "I-I couldn't...I couldn't save her! That fucking Lalafell stormed in before I could get help, everyone thinks the savior of Eorzea is a murderer!" She pulled back, face soaked with tears. "Not a month prior, I slew Gaius van Baelsar, the Black Wolf, and his weapon of madness, and this is what happens to me? Is this how saviors are thanked, with accusations thrown at their feet of regicide? I should have never left the forests I came from-"

"Lily, please." Haurchefant gently soothed, wiping away the tear-trails on her face. "One event at a time. From what I understand, the banquet was a rousing success, although Ser Aymeric had to return to fend off the dragons." He gently pulled her to the hearth, pulling up a chair for her to sit down. "I am here. Now, warm up by the hearth and, if it is not too much of a strain, I'd like to hear what happened over something warm to drink."

"T-Thank you..." She murmured, lowering her head. Her ears drooped down with them. "It's just...it's so much, in so little time, I feared I wouldn't hold it in much longer." She glanced back up to Haurchefant. "The story will take longer than 'just a moment' and I know you're busy-"

"Nonsense." Haurchefant chuckled. "You're a friend of Ishgard and a friend to me, Lily. If you need my ear, I will gladly lend it." The Viera smiled faintly.

"Thank you...it...it means a lot to me to have someone 'in my court' as it were." She said shakily. "Nothing strong, please. I need all my wits for this story and, well, my wits are still a bit scrambled from running for my life." Haurchefant nodded supportingly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a white handkerchief, handing it to the thaumaturge.

"I believe you need this for the moment, until my return." He said. She nodded and took the handkerchief, blowing her nose into the fabric. She returned her gaze to the blaze as she cleaned herself up as best she could, occasionally letting out a whimper of a sob. She heard him return a few minutes later, along with the smell of food. Haurchefant sat down across from her and handed her a mug of a steaming hot beverage, a mug she happily took.

"Now, start from the beginning. What happened in Ul'dah?" He asked. Lily could sense the infinite patience in his voice. She took in a breath, drank from the warm mug, and let out a slow exhale to calm herself.

"I was called to meet with her before the banquet." She began. "She wanted to abdicate the throne, to establish a far and equitable republic. I voiced my concerns, especially with that little shite Teledji, but she simply...nodded in understanding. She knew it would be difficult but she had every faith in Raubahn and the other leaders to make the transition worked. We were going to toast to it but she...she began to convulse so violently, I could only sit there, I had no idea what to do. She fell to the floor...dead, poisoned by her own wine, and as I tried to help her, Teledji burst in right on cue and frames me for murder!"

"It seems like he was the assassin." Haurchefant mused quietly.

"He was. As I was put into rope to be dragged before the very feast that was supposed to be in honor of me and the Scions, I asked him why a Royalist like myself, who had done everything to aid her and Raubahn, who defended Ul'dah from the Garlean Empire along with Gridania and Limsa Lominsa, would poison her b-but he slapped me in a bid to silence me." Lily continued. For a brief moment, Haurchefant's hands tightened briefly, a flicker of anger, before it was replaced by calm silent support. "I wonder who was worse, him or his sellswords who were supposed to be protectors of Ul'dah. The sellswords mocked me every step of the way, how I..." She stopped, closing her eyes.

"Do not repeat those words if they cause you pain." Haurchefant spoke, a gentleness that made the Viera smile faintly.

"Captain Illberd, a man I thought I trusted, threw me in front of the guests at the banquet, branding me as an assassin. He claimed some mere bottle I found in the desert was the container of poison used on her. The Scions, they claimed my innocence, but no one else did. I-I suppose I can understand the leaders being hesitant, I have done more to aid them than they can express in words and they wished to see the situation unfold before acting, but their guards bid them to escape and...and so they did, without a peep."

"Perhaps to avoid being targets themselves? They represent a nation, after all." Haurchefant offered.

"I suppose. With news of a new emperor in Garlemald, their people need them more than ever." Lily said with a sigh. Haurchefant nodded at that and silently bid her to continue.

"Raubahn, he was so hurt by the death of Nanamo, I-I had never seen him so...so broken. If there is one victory I can take from that night, it's the fact that he undid himself." Lily's lips turned into a smile. "Raubahn was a gladiator before he became a general, and before that, a blade in Ala Mhigo. He was known as the Bull...and one does not taunt a bull without meeting the horns. Teledji gloated about his victory and met with Raubahn's fury. He is dead and, with him, whatever glory he would have had in the settling dust."

"But...it is a hallow victory." Haurchefant mused. Lily frowned again before nodding.

"Yes. He claimed himself as the assassin of Nanamo, perhaps only to torture and goad Raubahn further. He freed me and bid us all to run...and so we did. We have no allies, branded murderers, and...and all we could do was run. The other Scions, they...they stayed behind to stay the tide of armed men after us. I can only presume they are dead." She sniffed. "The only good fortune that night was reuniting with Alphinaud and another Lalafell, one who Raubahn took in as a son, a vice-general. We escaped with a peddler I met when I first came to Ul'dah, rode Cid's airship here and...well, here we are. Speaking about the night's events." She leaned back to take a long drink of the contents of her mug before slowly lowering it. "I have no doubt Alphinaud is cursing himself for his perceived failings...but I didn't come out of this unscathed either if...well..." She looked away awkwardly.

"It's alright, friend." Haurchefant set his mug down on the table. He reached over to gently pull the mug out of her hands, setting it on the table as well. He clasped her hands into his, giving them a squeeze. "I know you're innocent. And not because you told me you are. You've saved countless knights and my friend from the jaws of death. I have full confidence you'll clear your names." He smiled. "The Ishgardian reputation for inhospitality will be a boon to you this time. If anyone asks about you, they'll be turned away. By lancepoint, if need be."

"Thank you, Haurchefant. I mean that sincerely." She let out a slow shaky exhale. "I need some time to...to get over this. And I'll have to borrow your time as well." She looked back up at him. "May I beg on your kindness for a little longer?"

"Anything you need, Lily."

"Just...hold me. For a while. Even if the chairs aren't too comfy but I...I need it." Haurchefant blinked, feeling warmth rush to his ears before he smiled at the Viera.

"It's fortunate that I told my men that I will not be available for a time." He said. Lily smiled before settling onto his lap, draping her arms around his neck and her face into his skin. Haurchefant closed his eyes, half-resigning himself to comforting a clearly hurt and scared mage until morning light. It was a side of the Warrior of Light he never thought he would see...no, Lily wasn’t the Warrior of Light in this moment. She was his friend, a friend who needed the comfort of another in this vulnerable moment in time. He rested his head against hers, briefly catching the scent of the lilies she was named after, and let out a slow easy sigh. 

There, they would remain until the morning light. With it, the responsibilities of commander and Warrior of Light awaited them both. 

#final fantasy xiv #warrior of light #ffxiv haurchefant #haurchefant x wol #platonic cuddling #spoilers for arr

[inquisitorhotpants]

WIP .. uh Thursday lmao

I was tagged by @semper-draca and this is a good excuse to share this xD

--

You don’t get to his level of social standing, Raubahn tells himself as he rematerializes outside the Quicksand, without getting used to the stares. 

It’s true, of course; rising from gladiator to member of the Syndicate and commander of the Immortal Flames and right hand of the Sultana does bring with it an unavoidable level of notoriety, and notoriety brings with it stares of various types. None of those, however, are the types of stares one gets when one materializes out of an aetheryte with a beautifully dressed, unconscious woman draped in one’s arms. 

And if people on the street are comfortable gawking at him, he can’t imagine what Momodi is going to say. 

*

“Why, General!” Momodi chirps as he stops at her desk, her smile positively gleeful. “I didn’t have makes the Sultana’s guest fall for him on my card for this evening, but you have ever been a surprising man. And so literal, too!” 

Raubahn leans a bit over - 

(Dancing, a voice in his head supplies.) 

- the guest of honor, doing his utmost to not notice whatever scent that is she’s wearing -

(something warm and inviting and if you don’t stop noticing right now this entire interaction with Momodi is going to get very awkward for you, and how is his internal voice so chipper about all of this?)

- in order to give Momodi a haughty look. “If you think all your jests can get the sultana’s guest of honor back to her room without my assistance, Momodi, I can hand her to you.” 

“Raubahn Aldynn, you will not leave that poor woman to be dragged along the floor like a sack of washing!” Momodi scolds, though she still has a twinkle in her eye. “I’ll escort you to her room.” She leads him to nearly the top floor, opening the door with a key from a ring she produces from one of her pockets. As the door swings open, she opens her mouth, then closes it again when he raises one eyebrow, choosing instead to give him a wink. “Do stop by my desk before you leave!”

Dancing’s room, he notes as he carries her toward the bed, is still mostly devoid of personal belongings, though he sees her usual clothing folded neatly and stacked on top of the dresser. Below her window, however, Ul’dah stretches out like a spilled bag of sparkling gems, a thousand lights in a thousand windows gleaming in the night. He shifts one arm, braces her while he pulls the coverlet down, and eases her into the bed, taking off slippers that seem impossibly dainty for the sort of woman that punches ruffians for a living and setting them at the end of the bed. 

He pulls the coverlet up over her - desert nights at this time of year have quite a chill to them - then pauses. 

It seems like he hears tales of her deeds nearly every other day. She stops land-grabbing bandits. She brings medicine and food to refugees. She saved Nanamo without even knowing who Nanamo was. He’d already admired her before tonight, even before she’d kindled hope within him that he’d thought all but lost. 

And then she’d collapsed into his arms - the desert heat, some said, and the strain of her exertions, it’s understandable - and even as he assured Nanamo he’d see their guest of honor brought back to her lodging at once, as he’d left the banquet as sure-footed as he’d ever been on any battlefield, he’d found himself instead admiring the flame of her hair, the curve of her jawline. How the weight of her in his arms feels like the most natural thing. 

At least there hadn’t been anybody around to hear his whispered oh no as he stretched his hand out toward the aetheryte. 

This is not a distraction he needs. It’s simply a matter of putting this all out of his head, which he will do on his walk home, so that he can continue to interact with Dancing on a purely professional level.

He turns briefly toward the door, then reconsiders. Standing there trying to keep a straight face while Momodi runs through her comedy routine is not how he saw this evening going -

(he determinedly ignores the now-smug voice in his head asking and how did you see the evening going? After all, you did get her into bed … in a manner of speaking)

- and it might actually be easier to just scale the side of the building.

He takes one step toward the balcony; there’s a rustling beside him, and then warmth against his skin as Dancing’s hand finds his. He turns back to her just as honey-golden eyes drift partway open. 

“Raubahn?”

(I have committed the way she sleepily murmurs your name to memory. I shall supply it on the slightest of provocations.)

Maybe he’ll have to take the long route home. 

“You fainted at the banquet,” he says gently. “The sultana wanted to be sure you got back safely. I had hoped I wouldn’t disturb you.” 

If there is anyone merciful in the Twelve, that will be the end of it. 

Dancing hums a sleepy sort of mmm and rolls toward him as her eyes close, hand still in his. 

Clearly the Twelve don’t feel like being merciful this evening.

As Dancing starts to snore softly, Raubahn eases his hand out of hers, waits to make sure she doesn’t awaken again, and steps out onto the balcony. 

“You seem to have forgotten how to get to my desk,” Momodi says from her perch on the balcony railing, not looking up from what she’s reading. 

Raubahn claps a hand to his hammering heart. “Momodi, Twelve preserve us,” he whispers. “What are you doing out here?”

“Waiting to see if you’d try to duck out of talking to me.” 

“Can you blame me?”

“Hmm ... no, I suppose not.” This time she does close her book and look up at him, grinning. “So what are you going to do about it?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Do? About what?”

“Don’t play dumb sword-swinger with me, Raubahn. You like her.”

#ffxiv #meanwhile the two chumps are busy engaging in my favorite thing #which is 'pretending i don't have feelings' #but literally everyone else already knows #and there is no escaping it

[inviouswriting]

The World in eyes I wish to see

Wedding story redone. After spending some time messing with some things in game. I found I really like the Ala Mihgan gowns.

This will be in Trust. (whenever I update it)

Mentions of specific characters

@windup-dragoon​ - Kirishima, @whitherliliesbloom​ - Illya, @meepsthemiqo​ - Meeps, @candideangel​ - Angelique, @maiden-born-in-snow​ - Shuri~

Aymeric x Kiya

no smut all clean but long.

Aymeric is the type to wake up even when the sky is still dark out, habits he has formed from being Lord Commander. He often is greeted to the sight next to him, his beloved curled against him still asleep and probably worn out from their night together.

He has a sense of pride when he wears her out, often he gets to see her as she wakes up. He guesses not too long from then, the way she seeks his affection or warmth. Slowly Kiya’s eyes open and the first thing she sees is him looming over her.

Kiya registers his expression is soft and at ease. She felt sore in the right spots, and returns the kiss pressed onto her lips. Aymeric feels good about the day, and with it so early he wonders if something can be done. It was a few days after the liberation of the city. Everyone was in high spirits, specially while planning all the rebuilding and what to do.

Aymeric takes Kiya’s hands in his and tugs her up to sit with him. He winds his arms around her while lifting the blanket up to cover them. He had thought long and hard about his options, and breathes them out under his breath.

“Let’s get married today.” Aymeric feels Kiya’s head whip up, and grimaces when her head hits his chin, and Kiya winces but eyes him wide while rubbing her head.

“What did you say?” She questions him, wondering if she heard right. They had been trying to plan for an Ishgardian style wedding for months. To hear him deviate and want to get married then and break traditions again. Aymeric meets her stare after rubbing his face from where her head bumped his and a stern and serious look to his eyes to let her know he isn’t joking about it.

“Let’s get married. Today.” Kiya’s eyes are wider, he can almost see the way her lenses expand in excitement.

“I thought you wanted an Ishgardian wedding?” She counters.

“We can still have one, for the people there who won’t be able to visit and attend on the sudden. I have put thought into it, and I rather not wait any longer. If you will. Please?” His eyes soften at his plea for her to say yes to this opportunity.

“Of course! I’m just a little surprised that you want to. Are you really sure to me? Eep!” Kiya is tugged down and faces Aymeric over her with his hands on either side of her head.

“You know the answer to that already my love. I did ask you many moons ago. My feelings have not changed, and I want to be able to marry you while everyone is around us. Friends and such. The alliance leaders are all here to officiate and bear witness. The friends you fought with, and their loved ones. Why not?” He tilts his head to the side, and Kiya finds herself unable to turn him down with how he makes her feel so well loved.

“Okay! Let’s do it then!” She earns one of his brightest smiles he can muster and him leaning down to give her a full kiss. He peppers her in many kisses, till he is certain her mind is spinning with emotions.

“What do we even wear?” Kiya murmurs getting his attention again.

“We’ll ask some people. I’m sure General Raubahn, Mistress Lyse, or M’naago know something. Shall we dress for the day and get started then? Hopefully by sundown you and I can be sealed together.” Aymeric presses his forehead to hers, and cradles her head with his hands behind her head holding her still as he lingers kisses.

“Aye!” Kiya smiles at him, and gets another kiss before he gets off of her and starts to look for his clothes that were tossed around in their hurry to feel each other the previous night. 

Kiya lazily dresses in her hailstorm outfit preferring it for the desert climate, and for what it meant to her as a parting gift from Shiva and Ysayle. She eyes Aymeric’s back how well toned he is her eyes lingering over skin till he turns his head to catch her stare with a smirk.

“Hmm... if you keep staring we might not make it out of this tent.” He chides her teasing. Aymeric would love to indulge, but if they were to have a ceremony by the end of the day, then they need to get to work in talking to people.

Kiya sticks her tongue out at him for the amused chiding, and wiggles her tail extra knowing he’s watching her back. They spend the rest of the morning discussing ideas, Kiya would check with a few friends of hers who know how to score fashion and wears. 

Aymeric gives her a long kiss before he goes about his own side to prepare. The first person she encounters in the morning is Lyse, just the person she needed to find, she was from the area originally and would know traditions.

“Lyse!” Kiya calls to her, and the blonde beams a smile to her.

“Hey, Kiya. What are you doing up so early? Thought you were with Aymeric.” A little bit of a tease in her voice enough to make the miqo blush and cough.

“I was this morning. He proposed something today.” Kiya fidgets with her hands, something she does when she is trying to find her words. Lyse knows it is a little more serious and changes her tone a bit.

“Hmm? What did he propose?” 

“To get married today! He figured it would be the right time with everyone in such high spirits.. but..” Kiya trails off and tugs at her clothes.

“All I have is black wears.” The plight of her black mage side, she always dressed the part.

“Oh? Oh! You need something to wear! Say no more! I have something for you then. Give me a bit to go find it!” Lyse was already darting off to go back to her place, to find what she wants in order to help her out.

Kiya talks to several others of the alliance, the women more than happy to officiate. To seal the two. She had met up with Aymeric and shared news of her findings while he told her of good news himself in able to have more unexpected friends in Estinien at behest of Shuri’s persuading. 

Aymeric gives her a lingering hug, lifting her just enough off the ground a few feet. They part ways again, Kiya being whisked off to be slightly glamored up. Every girl she had fought to liberate the place with was in a special room just before the Royal Meganerie. Kiya sits in the middle of her friends as they figure out how to help her hair with the aid of Jandelaine. 

“Should it be down? or up?” Shuri settles on helping figure this out, with Kirishimi off to the side. Illya and Meeps rummaging through Kiya’s clothes to find something. Not black. The cotton tights she normally wears was snagged and dyed white. Lyse enters with a specific box in tow with Tataru presenting it to Kiya.

“This was my mothers. It would have went to Yda, then to myself. But I don’t see myself marrying anyone anytime soon. And you have done more for us than we could even dream. I hope this works for you, all I ask is you keep it white. Aymeric has the match to this from my father. Surprisingly it fits him.” Lyse lets Kiya open the box to an Ala Mhigan gown, Kiya’s eyes widen knowing it means a lot to the woman.

“Are you sure?!? It means so much to you.” 

“And I know marrying Aymeric means a lot to you. The first wedding should always be special, and well.. I think this is special enough.” Lyse smiles when Kiya accepts it.

“Ohhh, now we know what to do with your hair.” Shuri and Kiri both grin at this present and tug Kiya back with Jandelaine’s help to put the miqo’s hair into a neat ponytail. She looked clean yet elegant to be marrying someone. Keeping the blue on her lips, and painted heart. 

When Kiya wears the gown, it was a bit bigger on her, but fitting. She felt comfortable and hugged herself knowing it means a lot to Lyse giving it to her. The girls clamor to dress themselves up with the ceremony only hours away.

Kiya finds herself outside the room, wandering the edges of the garden. Feeling butterflies in her stomach, and nerves starting to settle in. She stares in front of her and spies Aymeric just on the edge of the pool to the water. He turns his head feeling eyes on him, and smiles at Kiya. He looked fitting in the identical gown and with black pants and boots while she donned eastern shoes and tights to fit.

“Aymeric, shouldn’t you be getting ready?” She teases him, and meets him in the center. Their hands finding each others.

“I am ready, what about you? I thought it is bad luck for a groom to see a bride before the ceremony.” He brings her hands up to place a kiss on her fingers.

“Then you best close your eyes.” Kiya reaches her hands up and covers his face after he placed his kisses.

“We’re really about to do this?” She questions as she fits into his arms, finding comfort in them as she has for many moons now.

“Aye. Excited?” He takes her hands and leads her around the garden, overseeing the decorations, though the garden hardly needed adding onto with how beautiful it was. Kiya was descending a set of stairs following Aymeric.

“I am excited, but a little scared too.” She stumbles and is caught in his hands. Aymeric leans forward enough and prods at her nose smirking at the expression she makes before she laughs.

“My love. Are you feeling pressured?” He questions. Wondering if it is too much on her shoulders with the idea of being married so fast in a day versus the months of planning for Ishgard.

“No, no. Not scared like that. Scared in... uncertainty. We’ve talked for months about this and now..”

“We’re doing it sporadically.” He finishes her sentence understanding where she is coming from now. He also smiles understanding her feelings in the moment. They both bask in the quiet together him tugging her into his arms again and lifting her till her feet dangle.

“Would it be too forward if I asked for a pre-wedding kiss? Our last one as just fiancées?” Aymeric sets her down and tilts her head up towards his.

“No, it wouldn’t be too forward. I’d love it in fact. Just don’t smear anything. The girls would be cross.” Aymeric smiles against her lips as he presses a chaste kiss.

“Then they should be glad to not witness what will transpire tonight then.” He gets a little nip from her. Aymeric presses his palm to her cheek, and Kiya does the same little moments of intimacy between them. 

“There you are! Hey! Save the affections for the ceremony!”  Kiya snickers at the slight indignation in Tataru’s voice catching the two lovers. Kiya gives an apologetic peck to Aymeric’s cheek before she slinks off to mingle with some people before they meet again. Aymeric finds Estinien overlooking a side of the garden.

“Who would have thought you’d continue to break traditions Aymeric?” The elezen men exchange glances mutual grins.

“I seem to be doing that quite a bit.” Aymeric adjusts the gown on himself finding it a little loose, surprised that it fits so well. 

“Seems to fit you well, now the hard part is maintaining that marriage.” Estinien spies his own beloved across the yard. He almost misses the shocked expression on Aymeric’s face, but is met with a slightly stern look.

“Make time for her, and remember why you married. I know you tend to get busy with your duties, lest you forget why there are many men who are unmarried or have been left.” It was a warning to keep her happy. Aymeric knows better than to ever see Kiya’s face stricken with tears beyond happiness. 

“Aye.” They exchange grins knowing the other was speaking from the heart. As the ceremony was about to take place, Kiya stands in the center of the garden with Aymeric across from her. They take the others hands and lock their fingers together then kneel down together. Aymeric holds her close to himself and Kiya clings as if her life depended on it. Their friends gathering around from Angelique playing soft melodies for the atmosphere with Raha next to her. Shuri leaning against Estinien, and Kirishimi leaning into Hien.

Nanamo stands next to Kiya and Aymeric on one side, Merylweb on another, and Kan-E-Senna opposite of Nanamo, Lucia on the ending point. They too follow Kiya and Aymeric’s lead and kneel down with everyone taking a hint at the gesture. This was to be on the same ground as all and everyone.

They stay in silence in a moment of mourn for those that can’t be there with them. Those they lost, that set them on this journey and path. Senna breaks the silence her voice being the right one for the tone of events.

“How far we have come, from memorials of the fallen, to celebrating love. We have gained so much since Ifrit. We have also lost a lot since the Calamity. From banquets, to wars, to tyranny being uprooted. Kiya and her friends saving our lives from old and old habits. Till she was presented in front of one that changed her very being. At the time a freshly appointed Lord Commander Aymeric.” Aymeric’s face tints a little at that memory, he was new to it all. He keeps his face pressed to Kiya’s forehead, and she can feel him smiling while Senna addresses them both.

“I feel I have said enough, if you two have vows you wish to seal here.” Kiya nods and smiles up at Aymeric when he pulls his head back to look at her as she speaks up.

“Aymeric, you’re so much more to me than just a person to love. You were there when I had no one, lost everyone I knew and loved.. After that day, when my name was scorched from accusations. You... believed me... you and Haurchefant…” Aymeric tugs her closer into his arms seeing tears dot her eyes at the memory that still haunts her.

“You gave me a home when mine scorns me, when mine treats me as though I am dead, even after all the victories. Most of all, you became a rock for me after The Vault... after we lost so many we couldn’t save.. who saved me, saved us.” Estinien’s eyes downcast to Shuri at those memories before he was taken over from Nidhogg rubbing her back idly.

“Aye, a lot has happened since our impromptu meeting in the Intercessory. Who knew I would have found my love for life there. From living a life of old constantly fighting dravanians, to suddenly not having a war, to rebuilding my homeland to finding you. I remember full the day you sought my comfort. Distraught to lose a brother to both of us.” Aymeric pets the side of Kiya’s face loving as he speaks to her.

“A steady relationship bloomed from that, till we sought the other out for more comforts, and little chess matches to get to know each other better.” Aymeric glances over to Alphinaud who sits well with Illya hugged in his arms. His gaze also drifts to Kirishima who gives a fleeting smile while half using Hien as an armrest next to her before side hugging with him.

“You changed my life entirely. I don’t think we’d be here if it weren’t for everyone around us. Most of all, your trust in me. I am honored now to be able to from this day forward have you sealed to my side.” Kiya smiles at his words, and feels the sincerity in his eyes.

“I could say so much more, but I want to spare some endearments for the Ishgardian wedding we will be having too.” Aymeric nuzzles her face with his assuring her this isn’t everything he wants to say. Nanamo sees that this is where they’re going to leave their vows together.

“Then it would be my delight and honor to seal you two together for eternity and may you both walk in the light of the crystal together. You may seal your bond with a kiss.” Aymeric smiles and leans into give Kiya a modest kiss for the public till Estinien pipes up.

“Come on, I’ve seen you kiss her better.” He gets a jab in his sides by Shuri and Meeps. Aymeric laughs earning Kiya to snicker till he really kisses her and pushes her down to the ground. This earning cheers, Kiya remembers not to tarnish the gowns given to her and Aymeric. They come up, and he lifts her up into his arms as he stands prompting everyone to follow suit.

Kiya is set down onto her feet, and led by Aymeric over to the pool of water they were gazing at earlier. They’re followed to the outer edges while the two of them wade up to their shins and take a first dance with each other in a light waltz. Angelique taking a cue to play a song for the two. Those that had someone to dance with danced lightly making the place filled with love while the newlywed couple get lost in their world together forgetting the cold at their feet. 

Aymeric lifts Kiya up into his arms when the song comes to a close and claims a kiss. He lets her feet dangle again, enjoying being able to lift her with such ease. He sets her down parting from the kiss but feels a tug on his arm and with his strength he raises Kiya as she holds onto one arm. She gives him such an endearing look, while he gives a proud smirk at her amazement in his strength.

She knows his strength and has felt it. When he waves his hand in front of her, she playfully bites his hand earning a raised eyebrow. She knows he’ll retaliate later.

As quick as everyone was there, they disperse leaving the two to themselves. To go enjoy a reception and festivities. They would join soon, needing quiet with each other before resuming more with friends.

“I can’t believe you bit me.” Aymeric eyes her, and Kiya smirks wild at him.

“Like you haven’t bitten me.” She feints a pout only to have Aymeric catch her face in both of his hands to pinch her cheeks light.

“In my defense, my biting you was in the heat of passion. Yours?”

“Curiosity!”

“Curious for what?”

“See what you’d do.”

“Oh? Is that so?” Aymeric snags her and lifts her to give her another kiss. The sun was starting to set casting a golden hue over them. Kiya returns the kiss, and holds tight to him.

“Aymeric… I love you.” It is her first time saying it from being married. It softens his heart more, and Aymeric tugs her closer to him.

“I love you too, Kiya.” 

“We’re finally married..” Kiya breathes out under her breath. 

“Aye, not so scary is it?” Aymeric earns a nod out of her. He tugs her hand with his.

“Come now, let us join the others. Then so I can thoroughly take care of you later. I owe you for biting me.” Kiya’s eyes widen a bit and she looks away sheepish again. She takes his hand and lets him lead her. To start their lives together. Based on Trust and love.

#aymeric #ser aymeric #ffxiv aymeric #aymeric de borel #kiya shinikami #aymeric x kiya #I forget to post the thing