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erisffxiv · 7 months

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Stormy Seas

**Feat. a friends oc: "Cyril Stacy" @diastrefo **

A chill crawled down my spine. I’d like to think it was from the wind and the rain but I wasn’t so naïve. Captain Cyril Stacy... I mentally kicked myself. I should’ve pried for more information, but I was desperate to leave that bloody town. The barkeep I’d bribed with my last gil had mentioned there was only one ship leaving port that night but he, very likely willingly, had left out the most important detail of all… who captained the vessel. I had thanked the Twelve for the thick clouds blocking the moon's light as I snuck aboard. It must have been sheer luck that I was able to make it to the cargo hold, tucking my small frame amongst the barrels and crates below. Or so I thought.

I clutched the ratlines, desperate to remain upright. My legs unaccustomed to the sea, let alone it being as angry as it was at that moment. Another wave rose and sea water rushed across the deck. Gripping the ropes, I pulled myself up with full intent to climb. At that moment, lightning flashed and illuminated the world. That’s when I saw his face… and his damned smile. My brows furrowed in frustration. The bastard was enjoying this. We were enveloped in darkness again, save for the lanterns. In this storm, they didn’t provide much light. Not wasting time, I stretched my arm above me to continue my ascent. I wasn’t really sure what my plan was and my stomach turned with the idea of running from a fight. However, I was ill-equipped to take anyone on, let alone him.

The only belongings I owned were the clothes on my back, the coat I’d left below, a dagger and the choker around my neck. The dagger and choker never left my person, being my most valuable possessions. Holding my weight with one hand, I reached down to pull the weapon from my boot, tucking the handle between my teeth. Briefly my eyes scoured the deck, searching for my pursuer. Why hadn’t he called his crew to hunt me instead? Why was their illustrious Captain giving chase himself on such a dangerous night?

A deep voice slid through the howl of the wind. I wasn’t sure where it’d come from but I needed no further warning to move faster. Finally I’d reached the platform just above the yard. I leaned back against it, wrapping an arm around it to hold me steady while removing the dagger from my mouth with the other. I wasn’t going down without some sort of fight and kept my gaze at the edge of the platform, watching for any sign of the man who hunted me.

Personally, I was willing to stay there as long as was necessary to stay out of his hands. Fate thought otherwise. A large wave rose beside the ship. I watched in horror as the monstrous wall of black and deep greens and blues rose higher still. Time seemed to stand still for a moment, as if allowing me to contemplate my life and why I’d decided to step foot on a ship, this ship, at all. The roar of the ocean was deafening as the wall of water came crashing down on top of me. It pinned me against the mast and pitched the ship to the side. A thought flashed across my mind and I hoped, just for a second, that the Captain would be washed overboard.

I could feel myself sliding. Desperately I drove my dagger into the wood below me, my sad attempt to keep from being pulled off of the platform. Just as the ship was righting itself I slipped. And I fell. My arms flailed about to catch anything. How far up had I climbed? I thought as I fell through the air. Then with a loud slam, I hit the deck. I swore I heard bone and wood alike splintering and breaking. The air was knocked from my lungs and sharp pain shot through me as if the lightning above had struck me. The darkness of night seemed to be growing closer, enveloping me like a blanket. Just before it overtook me, something seemed to form from the blackness itself. A man? A gold orb drew closer and I could see the white of his teeth with that same arrogant smile on his face. Ah, Captain Stacy. I wanted to laugh but my lungs wouldn’t expand. Finally, unconsciousness claimed me.

#ffxiv oc #ffxiv #original character

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elisartdumpuwu · 3 years

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Some art I did of a hot man (but my art does not do him justice). @lordofcrowns

#eli does art #my art #Captain Cyril Stacy #cyril stacy

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sootcloak · 4 years

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Living Gale

So I got permission yesterday(????? Is time a thing anymore ????) to write a thing for @lordofcrowns‘ Captain Cyril Stacy, a diabolically fun villain. This piece was based around the general evocative aesthetic of the art he made for the Good Captain. So I did that. It was a good exercise, and doing it for someone else helped keep me motivated.

~2000 words of whip-snappin action and tense posturing, mostly trying to just capture the aesthetic i got from his work in my own medium. General warnings for the things which come with this kinda territory: murder, violence, abduction, etc. And lastly, if you wanna see more of that diabolically fun man, go to lordofcrown’s page.

The jade islets of the Sea of Clouds hang on umbral winds, drifting up and down on the aircurrents. The sky is dark, moody greys and greens which shift over one another. Three figures race across the shifting jadestone islets. Two chainmail-clad templars charge through the underbrush, over stone outgrowths, and across the shallow waters. Their footfalls drum against the earth, scaring gaelicats and other rodents down to earth.

The third figure is a full 30 yalms ahead of them. A heavy white coat trails behind him, billowing as he takes leaping, bounding strides. Strands of his turquoise hair hang in the air as he runs, whipped by both the wind and his own dead spring ahead.

His boots scuff and slide on the slick, smooth stone beneath his feet, the sky suddenly opening up in front of him as he finds himself not at the edge of the island. The two templars come barreling to a halt, their pursuit stopping ten yalms away from their quarry.

“Nowhere left…” One of the templars devolves into a heavy cough, and gasps for his breath in a distinctly over-exerted wheeze. His fellow looks at him with distinct concern in her eyes behind that metal mask.

“I must say, you both have kept up admirably.” The Miqo’te man turns to face his pursuants, gilded eye smoldering as he looks the two over. “Mostly.” He adds. Both tense, and the wheezing knight’s comrade steps forward, clears her throat, and speaks.

“You’ve nowhere left to run. By orders of the Holy See of Ishgard and other bodies of the Eorzean Alliance, you are under arrest under suspicion of crimes against Eorzea and her people, including treason, aiding and abetting heretics, and murder of the highest order.” She takes a bold step forward, shield held to face him with it’s rook-like insignia, and sword leveled at his throat.

“Halone’s Inquisitors will extract the truth of your actions from you.” The out-of-breath templar says, squaring his shoulders. He moves forward slowly, one cautious step and then another, speartip leveled at the Captain’s chest.

Beneath his cap, Cyril’s ears twitch. The clouds far below howl with an odd, almost-beast-like sound. The wind snaps, changing directions and whistling just a little faster around the trio.

“This is certainly a mistake. You should consider what you’re suggesting here.” The Captain’s voice is a halfway-point between a snarl and a purr, low and rumbling in his ribs. He holds one hand up, in something almost akin to a surrender. His other hand thumbs his belt, or rather the handle of the whip wrapped around it.

“You see, I’m just a trader. I have my permits and licenses here, with me. If you’d like-” He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, the heels of his boots slowly, subtly shifting to steady his center of balance. The distant, rumbling, angry roar slowly grows louder and louder.

“Save it.” The shield-bearer says, voice muffled by her metal mask and the rising wind.

“We have evidence under sworn testimony that an individual with ties to certain black-market elements would be in this sector of the Sea of Clouds. If this really is a ‘misunderstanding’, you should hold your testimony for Halone’s Inquisitors. You’ll need it.” She spits her words and steps forward, closer to both her companion and the Captain. Her chin raises upwards, coming to rest at an accusatory slant as she waits.

“Ah, someone implicated me, then?” He says, words slow and flowing like honey. His eyes remain steady on the two templars, but his ears are trained on the approaching, angry wind.

“That’s right.” The wheezing knight says, inching closer with. His hands shake and jostle his own spear nervously. “So you’d better come peacefully. We have authorization to kill the target if we have to, and you’re standing real close to that ledge.”

“How brave of you.” The Captain says slowly, his lips turning into a subtle sneer, “Why, such forthright persistence is so rare these days. I’m pleased to know the Temple Knights are yet the bravest, most chivalrous warriors in Eorzea.”

“Of course we- Oh you little.” The realization hits the out-of-breath knight in the middle of his sentence. “Playing cheeky are you, I’ll be sure to teach you some real manners.”

“Don’t take the bait. He’s just trying to get you to attack. He’s better use to us alive.” The swordwoman pauses in the middle of her thought, stopping to listen.

“What’s… What’s that sound?” She says, not loud enough for her companion to hear. Her sword drops ever so slightly.

Cyril snaps into motion as soon as she finishes, hand drawing out his whip and swinging it back in a single motion. The long, sinuous leather snakes around him, curling like a dragon’s tail. The spear-bearer lurches forward, pushing against the now-feverous wind. He plants his feet, and thrusts forward with the point of his spear.

Captain Stacy twitches his wrist.

The length spins out and away from him, like the arms of a cyclone. Whistling, it smashes into the center of the lancer’s chest. The mail rings like a cymbal, and the templar’s ribs snap loudly. His feet lift a few inches up off the ground. A resounding crack silences the wind for a brief second. The lancer lands a few paces back from where he’d stood, groaning on his side. His spear clatters to the ground where he was struck. The whip lurches back, Cyril’s arm winding and tensing back behind his head in a circular, casting motion. His coat billows out over the ledge, filling with air.

“Shit!” The shield-bearer pushes off of her back foot, covering close to half the distance between her and the captain in a single bound. Cyril’s arm circles round once more, and then reaches up towards the churning skies.

“Fast.” He notes, his voice growling in tandem with the fibers of his whip. It would almost sound complementary, if not for the predatory glint in his eye.

“But it’s pointless!” The whip snakes around him, curling inwards and coursing across the surface of his coat. The leather hisses, and his arm streaks downward, painting a thick, vertical black line in the sky as the whip follows his motion.

It falls like lightning, the whip bending outward as it hisses downwards towards her. She raises her shield, but true to his word she’s not fast enough to match the sinuous, ebony whip. It moves in a blur, first striking her shield and shoulder, then twisting around her and catching her in the side of her ribs. Her feet skid, but she holds her balance from the twin strikes.

Then it wraps around her left arm from below. As it snaps into place with an iron-hot shot of pain, she feels more than sees as the captain pulls her elbow and shoulder inward with a terrible jerk. She feels her arm pop free of her shoulder as the whip holds fast and jerks her to the side. She screams in rage and pain as her elbow breaks backwards, her shield clattering to the ground.

Through biting tears, she pushes through the pain and pushes forward yet, blade still in steady hand. She plants her feet as she nears him, his eyes burning into her with all the apathy of a storm at sea. Her good arm pushes forward, tearing the air, cleaving towards him in a single upwards, goring slash. He darts to the side, coat trailing behind him like a phantom.

There one moment. Gone the next.

Something hard and fast buries itself in her gut. His fist, she realizes dully. Her sword soars upwards and then over the ledge as she’s thrown backwards and lands with a metal thud.

She gasps for breath, lungs finding none. Nevertheless, she struggles to her knee, and then to her feet. Her eyes blearily stare upwards. She locks her eyes on him, blurred from pain and tears. Her head is wracked with the building panic born of being so thoroughly dismantled so rapidly. Her ears ring, but her sweat-stung eyes sweep off the Captain to her companion on the ground. He claws at the dirt, trying desperately to flee, but unable to get his footing.

The wind suddenly bellows, the droning that’d haunted the brief encounter opening up into a deathly roar. A monster of wood, metal and steam breaks through the mist and clouds around them, screeching all the while. A magitek-powered airship, leaden with naval cannons and watchful, dark shadows atop the deck darkens the sky behind the captain. He reaches up to hold his cap steady in the gale. The humm and roar of it’s engines rumbes in her aching, airless lungs.

Her eyes, though, remain locked on him. He looks down towards her, and without a word just raises one arm. He points to her fallen comrade, then holds an open hand towards the vessel behind him. He closes his fist.

She makes another breakneck dash for him, legs still wobbly after having the air knocked from her. His eye shines in the umbral glow of the Sea of clouds, and he opens his arms wide as she charges him.

The moment hangs for a second, as she stares with murderous intent. The wind whipping around them loses its sound. Something guttural and crass has torn free of her chest, curses just out of reach of her panicked, enraged instincts. All the while, he stands with his arms wide and head low. The wind races out from behind him, blowing the tails of his coat up and kicking up dust around his feet.

As she rears back with one fist, he steps into her space and snags her wrist with his gloved hand. He spins around her, pulling her back by the arm. As his other hand ensnares her other wrist, she feels the coils of his whip bind her by the wrists. She tries to pivot, to face him, but her legs trip on his knee. Gravity grips her, her body once again thrown to the jade earth of the islet. He places a foot on her hips and a knee on her broken shoulder.

The pain is there, she can feel it, numb and aching as she tries to unpin herself from the Captain atop her. He waves over to the hovering ship, and like vultures, crewmen descend on ropes. As they take her and bring her to her feet, binding her properly, they throw the lancer off the island’s ledge, down towards the clouds.

“You can’t escape.” He says, all the charm gone from his voice as his sneer creeps into more of his face. “And you’re more useful to me alive.” He turns his attention, but not his eye, away from her and to his crew.

“Take her. I’ll see to her when I’ve the time. I have questions for her regarding who they received their information from.” Cyril says.

The men and women gripping her pull her over to one of the dangling ropes, but she keeps her head and eyes pinned on the Captain as he slowly walks over to her still-crawling compatriot. He drops into a squat beside the prone man, hand reaching into his coat, to somewhere near the small of his back.

“You would tell me whatever you want, wouldn’t you.” It’s not a question, but the templar nods in jerky, quick motions. The knight’s movements get more and more frantic, all the while the Captain’s gaze unfalteringly falls on him.

“Yes, of course! Yes!” The dark glint in Captain Stacy’s eye sparks a moment.

“Thought so.” She can barely hear the crack of gunfire over the winds, but the stark red of her friend’s blood staining the jadestone dirt around the Captain’s boots is impossible for her to miss.

“I have no need for a coward and a liar.” He turns his deathly gaze to the woman in his crew’s grip. “We’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted, lady knight. But for now, enjoy your rest.” He nods to someone behind her, and her vision goes dark as a club strikes the back of her chain-clad skull.

#ffxiv #ffxiv creative writing #lordofcrowns #captain cyril stacy #aegis' writing archive #i spent the vast majority of my work on this blasting Helltaker's OST and staring at a screen in a dark room wondering if #'churn' was an actual word or if i'd somehow made it up without realizing #that's just how sleep deprivation be i s'pose #now that i'm done with my work i can go crash into my coffin at mach 10 and die #i should really sleep more but if i have one (1) more weird marriage dream im gonna scream #otherwise have a chill night all i'll see you when my brain rolls the roullette which decides whether im tired or dead awake #oh shit wait its afternoon #ah fuck it i dont have to be anywhere in the foreseeable future

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verdandir · 3 years

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An early(very) Christmas Gift for @lordofcrowns of little Verdandir and Cyril.

Art by: Mishhe

3 Extra Variations Under Cut

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cero-tia · 6 years

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This is the blessing catte–repost for a good day, lots of money, a great shag, a new puppy, a bowl of hot ramen, for someone to pat your head and tell you you’re a good bean, for great FPS in a tough raid, or for Cero to smile benevolently on whatever it is you need smiles on today.

#cero tia #blessing cat #ffxiv art #miqo'te #my art #watercolor #stained glass #you spoke of innocence #it would take a saint captain stacy #i don't remember the context of that last one but i'm sure cyril did something bad again #ffxiv rp #Balmung #balmung roleplay #ff14 #ff14 art

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menphinasbow · 4 years

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💖 From Cyril. (@lordofcrowns)

“It was my honor to be able to assist you, Miss Aradia,” the Captain said as he gently took her hand and, to her surprise, kissed the back of it the way a knight might kiss a princess’s hand in her old fairy tale books. Despite herself, Yvaine felt her cheeks warming, her face flushing at the gentlemanly gesture.

"I should be the one who feels honored. You have saved a lot of children today, Captain. And for that I will always be grateful, as an expecting mother myself,“ she replied.

His eyebrow raised with interest - or perhaps surprise - and his gaze dropped briefly to her stomach.

"I owe you one. Please, if you ever need anything, let me know and I will do it for you. I do have quite a pull,” she admitted, feeling guilty for not revealing her true identity sooner.

"Oh?“ He tilted his head with interest.She fidgeted, then spoke in a low voice, “I am with the Scions. The one they call…” she hesitated, wincing as she spoke the title she had come to have mixed feelings about, “the Warrior of Light."

Their next meeting was not as pleasant. She had come to know that the so-called Captain Cyril Bradley was, in reality, Captain Cyril Stacy, notorious slave trader.

And today, she had cornered him at the Limsa docks, ready to hand him over to the authorities.

But he had reminded her of one unfortunate thing.

"You promised me a favor, that you owe me one,” he whispered as they stood in the shadows of the decks, away from curious passersby. “Let me go this once, and I’ll consider your debt is paid in full. Or you can attempt to catch me and we can fight, but I find you have an unfair advantage, being the primal slayer and all."

She spluttered in disbelief. "I made that promise before I knew who you really were! And the crimes you committed!"

"Who am I, Miss Aradia? Am I not the man who, in your own words, saved a lot of children?"

She gaped in disbelief, at a loss for words.

"Would you have found those children in time without my help?” he continued, and she found herself even more confused.

“But… you… also did bad things. Things you must answer for."

"I am more than willing to settle it next time we meet, after your debt is repaid. Or can the Warrior of Light’s words not be trusted?"

She opened her mouth, scandalized, but no word came out. How had he turned the situation against her so easily? "Of course they can-"

"Then ‘till we meet again, Yvaine,” he used her first name this time and grasped her right hand, kissing the back of it the way he had done the first time they met. Two things that served as enough of a shock, enough of a distraction to root her to her spot while he slipped away, swift and soundless as the wind.

Yvaine stood there, her mouth still slightly open, the fast and agile Warrior of Light, disarmed so thoroughly by… by a scoundrel’s charm.

And the most infuriating thing was, she could feel the familiar warmth creeping into her cheeks again.

Next time, she promised herself and to him. Next time it’s not going to be so easy.

Or so she told herself.

@lordofcrowns

#drabble #Anonymous #i apologize if any of this is ooc ;_;#i had fun writing it!

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unchainedwaves · 5 years

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Profile: Kira Alderran

I’ve had a couple people asking about the backstory of my alt, so I finally took the time to properly write it up. Introducing my angst-ridden mess of a Hyur.

Kira was originally written for a Sailor Moon RP universe, which I then "imported" over to FFXIV. She was based on an inverted legend of Andromeda, in which she ended up saving herself instead of waiting for a hero.

In the FFXIV version, Kira grew up as a "princess" of a supposedly minor noble family in La Noscea. Or so she thought, because the people whom she thought were her family turned out to be neither her family nor blue bloods. They were a cult of Leviathan worshipers, and when she was 17 years old, they tried to sacrifice her to the primal on the day she believed to be her 'ascension to the throne'. She lived a very sheltered life and they didn't let her leave the little island they inhabited (for safety, they claimed, because she was so very important), so she didn't know better about how civilization outside that bubble actually worked, hence why she believed all their lies.

They ended up chaining her to a rock and left her to be devoured by the sea monster. Captain Cyril Stacy (@lordofcrowns) then happened upon her and unchained her, taking her in. I'm undecided if I want another verse in which she saves herself somehow (mainly because I'm still stuck on how she would've, as I don't want her to possess magic in this version) or if that verse will be adopted into her main canon. Wherever we end up taking their journey from there, though, I know it will likely split into another verse, because I have a general idea for what I want her main canon story to be afterwards.

After surviving her sacrificial attempt, the crux of Kira's story revolves around this traumatic event. She ends up using alcoholism to cope with the PTSD, and it turns her into a person who won't let anyone in because she's afraid they'll just trick and use her again. She has serious trust issues with everyone and literally drinks her problems instead of dealing with them.

She knew one thing for sure, though; she doesn't want to be a victim anymore. So she joins up with the Lancer guild and trains to fight, and eventually becomes a Dragoon and a dragon-slayer. (That's what she believed Leviathan to be, and she has no intention of ever letting such a creature have a chance to kill her again). She becomes a primal/dragon hunter of some sort, collecting bounties by killing creatures similar to the one that almost killed her.

She is about to start the Heavensward Main Scenario Quests and while I do them I'll figure out how she feels about the truth regarding the Dragonsong war.

Her stuff will still be reblogged to my main at @menphinasbow but they will always be posted here first at @unchainedwaves.

#character meme #rp profile

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tearmann-safehaven · 5 years

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LFRP Profile: Clara Murdoch

Clara Murdoch (Zalera)

Age: 22, though she appears much younger

Birthday: 32st Sun of the 5th Umbral Moon

Race: Hyur Midlander

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Pansexual

Marital Status: Dependent on verse

Hair: Clara’s hair is long, wavy, and shimmering copper. She typically keeps it braided off to the side, with a few wisps around her face.

Eyes: Her eyes are incredibly green, almost jewel like in the sunlight, with thick lashes.

Height: 5′3′’

Build: Slender, lithe, willowy

Distinguishing Marks: Small scar across the bridge of her nose, freckles

Common Accessories: Clara typically carries at least one dagger on her person.

Profession: Adventurer, rogue, bard, sailor

Hobbies: Cooking, weaving, archery, social drinking, dancing

Languages: Common

Residence: Varies. She travels often and rarely stays in one place.

Birthplace: Limsa Lominsa

Patron Deity: Llymlaen, the Navigator

Fears: Insanity, loss, containment, restraints

Spouse: N/A

Children: Due to severe physical trauma from her youth, Clara is unable to bear children. She doesn’t particularly enjoy them either.

Parents: Alwen Murdoch [father, deceased - former merchant sailor, killed in a storm], Rosanna Murdoch nee Turner [mother, deceased - weaver, died in childbirth]. Sévérine Murdoch nee Faulivette [stepmother, alive - merchant]

Siblings: None biologically (that she’s aware of *wink, wink*), however she has two step-siblings, Miophax Faulivette [step-brother, alive] and Isine Faulivette [step-sister, alive]

Other Relatives: Edric Murdoch [paternal uncle, status unknown - adventurer], Romund Turner [maternal uncle, deceased - carpenter], Hildelida Salter nee Turner [maternal aunt, status unknown - alchemist]

Pets: As a child, following her father’s death, she kept a small white mouse that she named Chester in her apron pocket, which she would talk to when her step-mother and siblings would lock her up. As an adult, she has a kitten which she, un-creatively enough, named Mittens.

Connections: Vhett Revy ( @ghostlyfoxangel), Jurien Ashur ( @jurien-ashur), Cyril Stacy ( @lordofcrowns)

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Smoking Habit: Clara tried a cigarette once. Once. She nearly stopped breathing right then and there, and decided to never smoke again. Drugs: Canon verse, no. Modern AUs, it’s likely that she’s tried one (or several) drugs at some point. Alcohol: Clara seems to be a petty heavy drinker, however she uses the notion to get more information from people. It takes a lot of alcohol to get her to lose her inhibitions, but she plays herself as a lightweight and uses the advantage of others thinking that she’s too far gone against them in the long run.

Vigilante: After being sold by her step-mother to the ruthless Captain Cyril Stacy ( @lordofcrowns), Clara eventually escaped, after much hardship, and commandeered own vessel alongside her childhood friend, Vhett Revy ( @ghostlyfoxangel), in order to start hunting down slave vessels. Join the crew of The Black Opal or come under attack by them. Whatever you wish, send me a message.

Brother/Tavern: During the darkest part of her life, Clara lived in one of Cyril Stacy’s brothels, having defied him and seen the brunt of his anger. Her character changes a lot during this point, going from a kind young girl to a cynical woman. Meeting her there is quite common, so feel free to message me.

Jack of All Trades: Clara had taken many odd jobs to support herself throughout the years, from carpentry to cooking. She’s often busy running about from place to place, barefoot, throughout Gridania and Limsa specifically.

Childhood Friends/Acquaintances: As the daughter of a traveling merchant, Clara spent most of her childhood (from infancy to about nine years of age) traveling between towns and city states. She was a friendly girl, very bright and witty, and had an easy time making friends. If you would like your character to be involved in her childhood in some way, shoot me a message!

The Little Mermaid: Pairing: Cyril Stacy/Clara Murdoch. Clara is a young mermaid, beloved by the sea, who exchanges her voice for legs after rescuing King Cyril from drowning. Dark.

Modern: Pairing: various.

Superhero: Pairing: N/A. Clara, a college music student, moonlights as a vigilante known as the Maiden of Death.

Deity: Pairing: Cyril/Clara. Clara is the goddess of bards and vengeance.

Dark!Clara: Clara isn’t so kind. Her time under Cyril’s ownership has changed her, broken her, and she has lost all empathy.

1. Ask before integrating Clara into your character's story. I’m usually very open about it, so just shoot me a message.

2. I do RP gore, abuse, violence, assault etc. but not just to do it. It needs to have a purpose. Know that there is a chance that I will take a break from dark subject matters if I need to, occasionally without warning.

3. Writer’s block is a bitch, please give me time.

4. Don’t come to me just wanting romantic connections with Clara, she’s so much more than just a relationship object; she’s a part of me.

5. Role-playing romance does not mean I want an OOC relationship. I’m happy taken, thank you.

6. Please be kind, just in general, I am a smol fragile gay

Discord: @satanic.turtle#8767

Instagram: @heart.sleeve.artsies

Tumblr DM: @heartsleeveartsies

#ffxiv #ff14 #ff14 rp #lfrp #zalera rp #clara murdoch #this took a LONG ASS TIME #like 4 days #holy fuuuck #imma sleep now byeeeee #hyur #character profile

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finalsongxiv · 5 years

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-- And He Cometh On The Waves -- It had been many years since he had stepped foot in Eorzea. The male Viera shut his eyes and took a deep breath as the fresh sea air became polluted with the unpleasant smells of the bustling city. His dark, ornate clothing catching in the sea breeze, covering the foul scent of the city with a gentle perfumed musk that he found substantially more pleasant. The almost indistinguishable footsteps of the Captain approached, and the Viera turned to the tanned, stalwart Miqo’te with a pleasant smile.

The Miqo'te’s good eye narrowed briefly, untrusting, but it was true to say that neither of the gentlemen trusted each other. Of course, in either of their business’ trust was how one got oneself killed. The Viera’s long ears rested against his head, clipped together neatly in his black and white hair, blowing gently in the wind as they made port, the heavy ornament keeping them bound letting out a soft subtle chime as the two creatures stared each other down. One with a wicked smile and the other with a furious frown. After a moment, the boat came to a creaking halt, the crew swung down to the deck and began to secure the ship but even through the jarring movement, neither man moved until the ship was secure. A scorpion approaches a crocodile, “Dear sir,” he says in his gentle voice with a smile like honey. “I have a proposition for you, should you carry me across the river I shall give you this which you most desire.” The crocodile hesitates, but the offer is one he cannot refuse. He agrees to carry the scorpion upon his back. The crocodile watches the scorpion carefully, distrustful of the scorpion. The assurance of mutual destruction did nothing to soothe his paranoia. The crocodile fulfills his side of the agreement and carries the scorpion across the river. As the scorpion steps onto the shore, the crocodile speaks, “You cannot hide your nature from me, Scorpion.” The scorpion turns to the crocodile, his smile like tar, “My good sir, my nature is perfectly within my control. I do not hide from it, but why alert my prey when the hunt is half the fun?” The crocodile watches the scorpion disappear into the brush of the bank, and a chill runs down his spine. The crocodile leaves with a bitter taste in his mouth. Cyril Stacy stepped back and gestured to the gangplank going down, “It was a pleasure doing business with you.” Now get off my ship.

The Viera stepped forward, the heels of his boots making nary a noise as he passed the Miqo’te Captain. “The pleasure, Captain, was all mine.” Cyril watched the Viera exit the ship, the unsettling aura of the Viera lingering in the air like mud clinging to his boots. He turned and sharply directed his men to follow with the luggage, the faster they cut ties, the better. //The scorpion replied to the frog, “It is my nature.”//

#this is totally not canon #but it's FUN #touches everything on cwyil's ship #I have all these prompts I want to do and I actually did one hh amazing #let's sit in drafts for a billion years #the price of patience #I don't usually like writing other people's character's b/c it's not going to be accurate from what little I know about them so these are #always just for funsies #and yes the joke is he's the crocodile b/c he's green #cyril stacy #it's teal okay but LMAO #I'm sorry this is long the read more just doesn't want to function for me at all #my writing #long post #ffxiv #ffxiv balmung #ffxiv writing #lordofcrowns owns cyril stacy

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