#falerin arcita

[the-wardens-torch]

As a venerable Tweet once said,

"people who celebrate fictional characters' birthdays are annoying, pass it on."

Therefore celebrating your OC's birthday must be doubly annoying, so prepare to be annoyed! The 16th Sun of the Fifth Astral Moon (September 16th, the Day of Spirited Energies) is Fal's nameday.

If real time were passing, he should be… 31 now? But like every soul on Etheirys, he's been in a bit of a Simpsons-esque time bubble since the Calamity, and I never can quite commit to his real age.

Art by @chop-stuff, @adeat, @ninalyncoco, @tenalac, @sassmasterhareth and @vulpine-gf (Not 100% sure about this last one! Let me know if this isn't you, hahaff)

#Fal art #Falerin Arcita #Hyur Midlander #ffxiv oc #ffxiv fanart #gift art #art commissions

[elektroyu]

FFxivWrite2023 Participation Prize

for @the-wardens-torch of their beautiful character Falerin Arcita! Go check him out if you're into FFXIV, he's such a lovely and cool guy! This sequence is what inspired this drawing:

Trembling Hands

Hesitate

Wilt

(untitled)

Thank you @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast for hosting this amazing event each year! I'm honored to have been able to participate this year for the first time, even if it was just with an art contribution. ♡

#FFxivWrite2023 #FFxivWritePrizes #digital #ffxiv #oc #not my oc #this means: one thing ready and done so 2 more to go before christmas #let's goooo!! 💪💪💪 #other people's ocs

[adeat]

Tris, aka @asphaltvalkyrie / @the-wardens-torch and I have been best friends for a really long time - about 18 years. Thus, I wanted to do something special for her birthday. I thought of doing pictures of her FFXIV character, Falerin Arcita, in fashion model poses, since Tris became enamoured with the true endgame. I found a reference online and thought to depict Fal in these poses alongside some of Tris' favourite Fal glams, plus some chosen by me.

Then real life happened and I never got a chance to finish the pictures. However, right now I'm at home and I have no excuses, so I spent the week to finally finish the rest of the set. I had fun to do these pictures and I hope you enjoy them!

Click on the images for a better view of the quality(?).

-> Strathmore Vision watercolour paper -> Platinum Carbon Ink + Jane Davenport pen -> Ecoline watercolour inks + some of their markers for highlights

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #hyur #ecoline #ff14 #falerin arcita

[aspected-benefic]

sparklefrisbees.jpg

Guest starring Falerin Arcita @the-wardens-torch

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #alto aria #falerin arcita #viera #sparkle frisbees

[sworn-unbeliever]

Hanging out with Falerin Arcita @the-wardens-torch!

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #literally hanging...?

[the-wardens-torch]

Prism

((This one is inspired by real life events. My father was a musician, and before he died - 6 years ago today, actually - he gave his old acoustic guitar to a friend of his… Which made a few of my relatives quite angry, but struck me as perfect.  I don’t play guitar after all. So now instead of being buried in my garage, it helps a queer woman teach music to autistic kids.))

Falerin had his eyes closed, but he could tell by the murmur of voices and the shuffling of feet that he had gathered a small crowd.  Breathing deeply, he moved his fingers across the keys of his accordion, touching each one as if it were a tiny, delicate bird. The melody that issued forth from the instrument was soft and low, and as he sang in accompaniment, his voice was like blue smoke on black velvet. The song was lonely and wistful, a song of sea and sky that seemed otherworldly echoing through the streets of Ul’Dah.

When the last of his song’s ghostly notes had been whisked away on the stiff desert breeze, the small crowd began to disperse.  Falerin graciously accepted their tips,  meeting each with a charming wink or a friendly quip.  The last one to approach him was a Roegadyn woman about his age, who furtively handed him enough gil to buy several decent meals.  When he looked up to thank her, he noticed that her eyes were red, and she was clutching a handkerchief to her nose.

“I can’t have been that bad… Or else I don’t think you’d be tipping me this much.” he said, his brow furrowing with concern over his sly smile.

“I-I’m sorry… Its just…” the woman took a deep breath and twisted her handkerchief in her hands, not meeting his gaze. “I’m sorry to ask this, but does that accordion… I think it was... “ she shut her eyes tightly and paused for a moment  “Does it have a… little carving of the sun on the back?”

Falerin’s eyes grew wide and his face paled slightly.  He knew without even looking that the drawing was there… Crudely but lovingly scratched into the red enamel just behind the keys with a sharp bit of metal. The voice of an old sailor named Rymmharr Sylbundsyn’s voice drifted into his mind on a salt-scented breeze of fond memory.

I scratched it on there on the day she was born because her name means “Sun Daughter.”

“Are you… Sunnthota?”

The woman nodded her head, meeting his gaze for just a second before squeezing her eyes shut as a fresh flood of tears came.

“You know my name… He must have talked about me.“ she said, a wistful smile coming to her tearful face. “That accordion was my father’s. When his accordion didn’t come home with his body I… wasn’t sure what had happened to it.”

“I-I’m so sorry… He, he talked about you all the time… If I’d have known where to find you I would have…”

Fal hesitated, looking grimly at his feet, not able to finish his sentence. Would have what? The old sailor had given the instrument to him with his blessing. He could even prove it with a letter written in the man‘s own hand… But how would Sunnthota feel if she knew her own father had given his most prized possession to someone she didn’t even know? He didn’t want to break her heart any more than it already had been. He took a deep breath, hugging the instrument to him for a long moment.

“If you want it back, its yours. I never meant any harm… An officer gave it to me when they came to send his body home. I-I would have looked for you but all I knew was that you lived in Ul’Dah.”

Falerin had intended to hold the instrument out for Sunnthota to take, but his muscles were paralyzed by the love he had for the wonderful old thing.

Sunnthota closed her eyes and crossed her arms in front of her chest, holding the handkerchief to her face.

“No, no… I’m not here for that. Its…. He would want someone playing it. I-I‘m… happy. If I had it, it would just gather dust.  No one would know how to take care of it, let alone play it. The last couple of times that he was home before he… passed-” -she paused here to take a deep breath, as if just saying that he was gone was like losing him all over again. “-before he passed away a few summers ago, he told me about a Hyuran boy he’d met in the Cieldalaes who could play almost as well as he did. He seemed to think that your talent was being wasted. I… I can see, well, hear, that you‘ve gotten to be even better than he was.” She blew her nose politely and cleared her throat.

“Your name is Falerin, isn’t it?”

Falerin choked back a lump in his throat and nodded, now fighting tears himself.  She had said his name with a reverence one might normally reserve for a long lost family member. As she spoke, something opened in his mind’s eye like a dusty brown moth, spreading its wings to reveal a whorl of heretofore unseen colors.  For the first time in a long while, he was at a loss for words. But in a situation like this, words in conversation were clumsy things; wan and dull.  Recalling a single line of postscript in the old sailor’s hand, Falerin stared down at the rickety, crooked-rayed little sun.

P.S - Her favorite song is The Briar and the Rose.

Concentrating on the whorl of color, Falerin stood up straight and began to play.  That particular song was so familiar to him that scarcely had to think about it, but the lyrics caught in his throat somehow.  As if the moth-turned-butterfly could only escape through his fingertips.  But a gently hollowed-out song was a beautiful place for memories to nest, and perhaps she was imagining his voice singing over the notes the same way he was.  For a brief second, two complete strangers shared a memory.  An overlapping rainbow of two spectrums wrought from the same prism of song.

When he looked up from the song, Sunnthota was watching him with a sad smile. Tears were streaming from her eyes again.  Eyes that he now saw were the exact same frost-gray as her father‘s.  Looking at her, he could almost hear Rymmharr’s voice telling him to press the keys more gently, and smell the aura of spiced rum and sea salt that always seemed to hover around him. Had anyone on Sapphire Avenue been paying attention, they might have noticed which one of them reached out first to hug the other.  Was it the sister meeting her new brother, or the brother meeting his new sister?

It really didn’t matter.

((And here’s your reminder that every work leading up to this is on my Ao3))

#my writing #Falerin Arcita #Sunnthota Rymmharrwyn #final fantasy XIV fanfiction #not a fan of the ending #and the title is meh #but i gotta get to bed

[the-wardens-torch]

Heads Up 7 Up

Tagged by: @adeat like a month ago... I didn’t have a WIP at the time, but I do now!

Rules for those who want to participate are that you post 7 lines from a wip of yours and tag some other people.

He asks to buy me a drink, and although I want nothing more than a cup of hot tea, I find myself ordering an expensive spiced wine I otherwise couldn’t afford.  Of which I will be careful not to overdo, as I know better than to lose my senses in a place like this. As upscale as it may be, I know that the people within it entertain the same thoughts as those in the filthiest Ul’Dahn dive bar or brothel. But perhaps I can benefit some from this.  His clothes are plain but high-quality, and he smells faintly of herbs and leather… A merchant, perhaps? I’ve gone home with far worse people, and I’m tired.

This is from a WIP originally dated 6/4/17. It involves an angst-ridden young Fal interior monologue-ing his way through a potential romantic encounter that turns into a platonic friendship. I just stopped dead on it after about 500 words despite knowing exactly where I was gonna go with it. Maybe I didn’t want to write it because it dips its toes into Adult Situations, which I’ve never liked to write or been any good at writing.  Nevertheless it stayed with me like a corn kernel jammed between my back molars for the next 6 years. And now, mysteriously, I found my inspiration again.

Who didn’t I tag for the previous “post x number of lines from your WIP last time?” Uhhhhhhhhhh, @traveleorzea @actualanxiousswampwitch and @lettersnorth maybe?

#my writing #final fantasy XIV fanfiction #falerin arcita

[the-wardens-torch]

Added... 2 poems and a folktale to Fal’s stories after neglecting Ao3 for a month and a half for no good reason.

#ffxiv fanfiction #Ao3 #Falerin Arcita #I haven't forgotten about him #yes they were written years ago #why didn't i post them sooner? #mummblemumblesomesortofexcusehavingtodowithmyneurodivergencemumble

[the-wardens-torch]

Hello, don't mind me, just sailing my boat past your island here.

I would like to know, if your OC lived on an island, which climate would they pick? Would they build a treehouse or move into a cave? :3

(And you're no less valid for being shy <3)

Thank you for this one, @ashenbunbun - this helped get a little bit of fuel into this sputteringly fickle creative engine of mine.

"I guess if I ended up on an island somewhere, I’d want it to be like one of the Cieldalaes where I was born and raised. Mild winters, warm summers, fruit and flowers and lush green jungles full of birds everywhere, and the ever present applause of the waves. Even now, sometimes the thought of going back there pulls my soul into a fathomless riptide of cheap nostalgia.

As for where I’d stay… I‘m not fond of caves unless I‘m using one to wait out a rainstorm. I recently found out that a whole branch of my ancestry lived in proper caves, and that my own father practically lives in one, but honestly, fuck it. I don‘t know how anyone could live so swallowed up by stone and darkness that air and light become painful.

Now, a treehouse? That sounds fun. With what I learned as a kid living among sailors and refugees, I have no doubt I could rig up something cozy and protected from the weather. I don’t think it’d be very big though… Anything taller and thicker than a palm tree is going to blow away like dandelion fluff in the season’s first hurricane on an island in the 'Ciels.

Hells, I already built a wooden landing in the little tree outside the house I live in over in the Goblet. Its not much more than a vantage point for getting a vulture's eye view of the Thanalan desert though, and that desert is starting to grow on me more than I’d like to admit.

I’d like to see what a treehouse in Gridania would look like. Some of the trees in the shroud look like you could put a whole city in them without disturbing so much as a bird’s nest...."

((…and then he’d ask you and/or Anam the same question and try to keep you/Anam chatting for as long as you’d let him, possibly to an annoying degree.))

#character asks #Falerin Arcita #in-character

[the-wardens-torch]

Daltamar

((Fal’s about 16-17 here, nearing the end of his time living with Alain and his family in Little Ala Mhigo. Here’s that Ao3 link again.))

“We’re almost there.” Alain said, bounding halfway up a sandy, rocky hill.

Falerin followed in sullen silence a few fulms behind, annoyed at the fact that they were still out in the middle of the day.  It was past 12 bells now and the sun was at its height.  His boots were filled with sand, and the back of his head itched from sweat, dirt and insect bites.

“I’d say you’ve got us lost, but you’re so bloody determined! What in seven hells is out here anyway?” Falerin shouted after his friend.

“Just come up here!” Alain said, continuing to climb. “Maybe you wouldn’t be so out of breath if you stopped talking so much!”

“Godsdammit Al, can you just fucking tell me what we’re doing before I break my ass?” Fal snapped, nearly losing his balance as the sand shifted underneath his feet. “I thought we agreed not to travel during this part of the day anyway. We should have stayed in Ul‘Dah until sundown.”

“No, this is something you‘re going to want to see.  Promise.“ Al had stopped on a small shelf of rock near the top of the hill. “Notice anything different here?”

“What, did the sun get bigger?” Fal said dryly.

Alain turned around and held his hand up. Fal held his tongue for a moment, expecting Alain to make some other sort of inane quip, but it never came. What did come was a low, almost thrumming sound, and he couldn’t tell if it was inside of his head or out. It was either the blood rushing behind his ears, or…

Silently, Alain bounded the rest of the way up the hill.  When he reached the top, he merely beckoned, remaining silent as a grin spread across his face. Suddenly invigorated by curiosity, Fal followed him. As he crested the hill, he stared blankly into the distance for a moment before shading his eyes with his hand. He wasn’t sure if he could trust his eyes all of a sudden. This wouldn’t have been the first time he’d thought he’d seen a ribbon of blue incongruously hanging on the horizon.

“Is that the godsdamned ocean?!” Fal exclaimed.

“You should know!  You’ve spent a lot more time with it than I have! Its just a bunch of water as far as you can see, isn‘t it?” Alain said mischievously, exuberantly throwing his arms in the air.  But Fal barely heard him.

How he’d missed it. He walked forward and let its mere presence overtake him; the merciful, amorphous blue-green of it soothing his eyes. Eyes that had been scraped and scorched by the unfamiliar yellows and reds of the desert for far too long.  He could have gone blind on this sight and been happy.  

“Don‘t get too close though.” Alain said, gently grabbing Fal’s arm.

Briefly returning to reality, Fal realized that this was as far as he could go. As much as he wanted to let this all wash over him, figuratively and literally, he was now standing on a very tall, very sheer cliff. For a moment, his soul seemed to strain against the confines of his body. It wanted so badly to be in that endless blue that Fal half-wondered if he would have blissfully plunged to his death if not for Alain’s timely grip. It must have been a hundred fulms down if it were an ilm.

“Gods…I missed this more than I ever knew.” Fal said as he plopped himself unceremoniously in the sand and continued to stare.

“I haven’t been here in a dog’s age. The view’s the only thing that’s really worth coming for.  But it sure is a view, isn’t it?” Alain said, sitting cross-legged next to his friend.

“Definitely not what I was expecting.”  Fal raised his head and sniffed.

Obligingly, the wind picked up, delivering the comforting scent of the ocean he’d missed for so long.  The air of the desert was empty and dry.  It sapped his strength along with his spit, tears and everything else he could think of.  He wanted it out of his lungs, at least for a moment, to replace it with the saline tang of seaweed and flotsam. The briny petrichor of sea spray on rocks.  It was delicious.

But this was unlike the ocean he knew from back home. He stood up again and went on tiptoe, craning his neck around like a wary shorebird as he tried to spot a ribbon of beach or an inviting little cove.  But as far as he could see, its was just those cliffs all around. Even if he could get into the water somehow, the tide was coming in, and the thick sea foam spoke of many large, sharp rocks just below the surface.

“Not even the saltiest old Mhigans can scale those cliffs though.” Alain said, seemingly having read Fal‘s mind.

“No… no… I guess not.”  Fal crumpled down to the ground again.

He clutched at handfuls of the sand absent-mindedly, not as conscious of the movement of his hands as he was of the sand itself, abrasive and desiccating, sticking to the sweat on his palms. The ground was hard against his skinny hips, and his feet were already swollen from having walked here in boots he‘d outgrown.  Terrestrial life suddenly felt crushingly heavy and obtrusive. He wanted the weightless slickness of water to overtake him, embrace him. To hide him from the horrors of light and heat under a dark, cold blanket. Where he’d never have to pay homage to the tyrannical sun and its followers. His eyes hurt, his feet hurt, his heart hurt, everything hurt. He squeezed his eyes shut against what promised to be a flood of tears.

“I’d like to swim in it someday, even if I have to hike all the way to Vesper Bay. But is that even the same ocean?”

Fal opened his eyes. He’d come to learn that this sort of chatter was just Alain’s way of pulling him out of the self-pitying little reveries he’d been prone to slipping into ever since he stumbled into Little Ala Mhigo… Away from the rejection of his mother and her tribe. Had it been one summer ago?  Two?  He couldn’t remember. Or didn’t want to. However long it had been, Alain had done this for him since the first day they met. He let a melancholy smile cross his face.

“The same ocean, Al?  What kind of question is that? Either you’re dumber than a sunway dodo or you’re the wisest person who ever lived.” Fal said, giving Alain an affectionate shove.

“No, really! How should I know? I can’t even swim. the biggest thing I’ve gotten to swim in is a washtub, and when was the last time you even saw me in one of those?”

Fal scoffed and shook his head flippantly. “Much as I’d love to make a joke about you smell like the south end of a westbound chocobo or how I don‘t think I‘ve ever even seen your real skin color for all the dirt, its no fun if you walk right into it like that.”

“No, really! Da even tells me that the family’s full of sailors.  And I can’t swim! How damned stupid is that? That’s even where we got our last name.” Alain raised his hand to eye level, pressing his thumb and forefinger together. “Daltamar. De-alta-mar.” he said, moving his hand a bit with each syllable as if conducting a symphony. “Its supposed to mean ‘of the high seas.’ ”

“Really…? Huh.”

Fal directed his gaze out on the ocean again, thinking about all the sailors that had passed through his home over his childhood years living  in the Cieldalaes.  He’d forgotten most of them, but one didn’t generally ask the names of the clients at an establishment like the Fox and Shrew anyway. But they did have a few things in common worth mentioning.

“Well, if you wanna be a sailor, you’d better start drinking hard and learning all the curse words you can. I knew one sailor who could down a keg the size of a Lalafell, and then tell you fifty different things you could call your member without even stuttering… and he was one of the nice ones. ”

“Heh, I guess the curse words won’t be hard to learn around the likes of you at least.”

Fal turned back to Alain and took on a serious expression as he raised one finger and looked down it as if accusing Alain of some terrible crime.

“You’re damn fucking right they won’t, and you can bet your wedding tackle on it.”

For just a moment, the sound of their uproarious laughter was even louder than the sea.

((File this one under “not quite happy with it and it might have some errors, but if I look at it anymore I’m gonna go blind.” This whole story was inspired by this song, which is one of the most joyful things I’ve ever heard. I also like to think that the southwest coast of Thanalan looks a bit like the south american cliffs in the video too… I grew up on the coast and have more than a few sailors in my family tree, and I can attest to the fact that missing the ocean is a whole body sensation unlike any other. ))

#my writing #Falerin Arcita #Alain Daltamar #final fantasy XIV fanfiction

[the-wardens-torch]

What’s Your Character Arc: Falerin

Got tagged with this one by @lettersnorth​ ages ago. Although the delay between getting tagged and doing the thing might not say it, I am really grateful! And thanks to you and everyone else reading this for sticking with me through what is proving to be a prolonged creative slump, sfasdfasda.

Your Result: romance/friendship arc

you started this story a little hard, or awkward, or stubborn. that's okay. it's harder than it should be to admit, but what you really want is love. that's what your story is all about - not just the act of loving, but the allowance of it. the confession that you do not want to fight or bleed or save the world, but to simply feel the way two hands fit so easily together. you will have two chairs and a table and you will shut your blinds, and you will say the word love without faltering. this is a happy ending, and you do not need to feel guilty. it hurts our hands to fight - never to hold.

((I’ve often said I created Fal to explore a character that was very unlike myself, and I don’t like romances, so its on point? : D He’s taught me a lot over the years... Including that I might not be so unlike him as I thought.))

Quiz is here, I’m sure most of you have done it, but maybe I’ll tag @kich-rp​ since I know they have a couple of new chars, ohoho~

#character memes #character arc meme #Falerin Arcita

[the-wardens-torch]

FFXIVwrite2023 - Ring

FFXIVwrite 2023 - Prompt #6 - Ring, Entry #3

Pagl’than… Gilded Sea.

Tiamat the dusk wyrm rests in a field of golden summer grass, the baleful red of her eyes tempered by the glow of the setting sun. She lounges on her belly like a cat, legs folded and neck languidly craned skyward. A few fulms away sits Falerin Arcita, his palms flat on the ground and his legs stretched out, barely visible over the high grass.

"From what little I have gleaned of the other Spoken of this star, it seems that none have memories as long as that of my kind. I remember my own birth. Hraesevelgr remembers every contour of his his beloved down to each hair on her mortal head. Nidhogg remembers every note of every song Ratatoskr sang to him before she was struck down. And my sire remembers the distance between each and every heavenly body between the dead star of his birth and this very much alive star of mine and my siblings' birth. My memory is long and I remember every detail, including when I was put in those chains by the Allagans. Yet the clasps on the rings that kept me bound became invisible to me, though I had seen their metal bend through my flesh and close upon itself with my own eyes. And thusly time too became an endless ring, no beginning and no end. And I let it do so and called it just."

"I don't think anyone ever atoned for anything by staying in one place…" Falerin said. From his position at her feet he could scarcely see the expression on Tiamat's already inscrutable face, but she clucked her tongue thoughtfully with a sound like two flints striking together.

"You have the right of it. I allowed my grief to paralyze me. To consign time to repeat itself for eternity, even when my memory told me that it had never done such a thing, and that it never will."

Falerin leaned forward and rested his palms on his knees, craning his neck back to look up at the wyrm. She was still a great and terrifying creature, and he was very much aware that he was mere fulms from her teeth and claws, but he couldn't help smiling over the thought that had just crossed his mind.

"Did you know that we have a symbol for infinity?" he said with a bit of mischief in his tone. "Its a snake… but some people think of it as a dragon. A dragon that bites its own tail."

"Truly? You do? How quick your little minds are!" Tiamat threw her head back and gave a hearty, booming snort that probably would have bowled over a Magitek tank. "And to think, I nearly became such a symbol myself..."

((I had much bigger plans for this one, but dat work-enforced sleep schedule buhhhh... I've written 4 other Fal/Tiamat conversations in the past which I'd link if I had time to find them. I really love writing them and will probably add to this one after the event.))

#ffxivwrite2023 #tiamat #tiamat final fantasy #ring #prompt 6

[the-wardens-torch]

WOL as a Recruitable NPC (DA-Style)

I fell down an FFXIV blog rabbit hole and found this delightful meme by @vaniccio​ and wanted to do it despite the fact that I only played one DA game (Origins, which I didn’t actually finish, eheh.) and have barely any knowledge of the Tarot, aside from vague descriptions of the higher arcana.

Anyway, thank you stranger! This definitely helped me in my continuing quest to get my imagination warmed up in time for FFXIVwrite2022!

- - - - - - - -

Name: Falerin Arcita

Alternate Name or Alias?: None

Race & Job: Hyur Midlander BRD/SMN (for all intents and purposes)

Nickname: Fal

Default Tarot Card: The Tower

Do they have the Echo? If so, how did they discover it?: He does not, although he does have other unique talents.

How/where does the WoL meet them?: Unbeknownst to the WoL, they actually met him on the night of the Bloody Banquet in Ul’Dah, where he was a chamber musician at a pre-party. He was very taken with the WoL, and after the unfortunate events of that night, helped sabotage efforts to find them and ‘bring them to justice.’ He didn’t believe for a second that the WoL was capable of such a crime and helped engineer a sort of grassroots “no snitches” pact, particularly among the Ala Mhigan refugees, and various other folks that had been aided by the WoL.

How are they recruited into the Scions?:  Riol recruits him once the heat dies down after the banquet (sometime during HW) Officially, his abilities are information gathering and light espionage, and acting as a sort of self-appointed morale officer, keeping everyone’s spirits up with a nigh-endless supply of songs and stories. His arcane abilities (including a very unique and flexible aetherial familiar and the ability to use arcanima without a tome) also do not go unnoticed and probably clinched his membership in the eyes of the more studious Scions. This annoys him greatly as they are not what he wishes to be defined by.

Romanceable?: Yes (he’s a cis male and pansexual.)

Where they are in the open world:

(As a Scion): The Seventh Heaven in Mor Dhona.

(As a NPC): Rotates between the bars/inns of the big 3 city-states.

Default saying:

(As a Scion): Hello there, friend! *smiles and does the  /welcome emote* Business or pleasure?

(As a NPC): We’ve met, haven’t we? I’d love to hear what you’ve been up to lately!

What do they typically do off-screen?: He’s usually out carousing at bars/performance venues or dropping in on friends unexpectedly (he curbs this to an extent if he becomes a Scion and will gladly go on information gathering/diplomacy missions... and combat missions as well, if its absolutely necessary.)

Things they Generally Approve of:

Sassing authority figures who abuse their power.

Aiding/protecting vulnerable people (particularly refugees)

Curiosity/an inquiring temperament.

Things they Generally Disapprove of:

Violence for its own sake.

Societies/governments that prioritize tradition/custom/tribalism over the happiness and well-being of people (any people.)

Pretentious/arrogant behavior.

Are they in a Grand Company? Which one?: He got his chocobo from the Order of the Twin Adder, but doesn’t swear fealty to them.

Friends:

Within the Scions:  Thancred (he just knows there’s a bon vivant under that dadly exterior just dying to get out again), F’lhaminn (she lost a Hyuran child, he lost a Miqo’te mother, they comfort each other) Hoary Boulder (Gods know the Scions need more cheerful folk like him) Tataru (Most underrated Scion.)  (He’d make it his business to befriend everyone else too though...)

Outside the Scions: Momodi (he enjoys trading lusty stories with her,)Tiamat (its a long story) Guydelot (fellow spoony, probably-not-heterosexual bard) Methuli (he makes and delivers leather to the Ehcatl Nine and they enjoy teasing each other.) A few of my friends’ PCs.

Small side mission:

When the WoL gains access to Sharlayan, they will be surprised to find Fal in the studium library, reading up on arcanima. If pressed about it, he’ll eventually reveal that he’s trying to find something he can talk about with his estranged-until-quite-recently father, who is a scholar living in Idyllshire. *insert some dialogue trees and travel back to Idyllshire here followed by more dialogue trees*

Ultimately it turns out Fal’s father has no desire to relate to his son in a loving parental fashion, and the reconciliation ultimately fails no matter what the WoL does. Fal acknowledges that he never thought it would work anyway, and loves (platonically or otherwise) the WoL all the more for trying.

The reward for this quest is a broken ruby statuette of a bee that considerably boosts Fal’s magical abilities.

Potential tarot card changes:

If accepted into the Scions:  The Sun

If romanced by the WoL:  The Magician

If not recruited/kept as an adventurer:  The Hermit

Might as well tag some folks?  @captainkurosolaire, @lettersnorth, @nutley-rp​ and @kich-rp?

#character memes #wol as npc

[the-wardens-torch]

FFXIVwrite2022 Prompt#3: Temper

“Pagl’than… Gilded Sea.”

The cryptic message had come to him on the currents of Dreadwyrm aether like a bird on the breeze.  He knew that there was only one possible source for it.

Tiamat.

She had been freed only a short time ago, brought round by the brave words and selfless actions of the Warrior of Light.  He had heard word of her wings darkening the sky over the lands of the Amal’Jaa, of her carrying the Azure Dragoon into battle against the Telephoroi and an ever-growing army of corrupt primals.

He had traveled through its aftermath for hours now, trying to reach the grassy plains beyond it. The ground had been littered with broken cannons and scrap machinery.  Some built by Garleans or Ishgardians, still others built by Kobolds. All around, the shattered barrels of Lominsan muskets and Gridanian spears.  A battlefield once occupied by the combined forces of all Eorzea.

As he crested a small hill, he soon found himself in a vast open plain… and he suddenly understood why they called this area the Gilded Sea.  Blond summer grass grew all around, turning golden in the approaching dusk.

“Summoner…”

The word came in the languages of man and dragon simultaneously, twisting around one another like colored smoke. He turned towards its source.  The last time he had seen Tiamat, she had been shackled and bound, wings extended in full flight, great and terrible yet stilled and lifeless, as if she were a taxidermy hawk.  But now, she lounged in a sandy clearing a few yalms ahead, wings folded and front legs crossed over one another in calm repose.

“No.  Thou has given me thine name, and I will honor thee by speaking it, Falerin… Arcita.”

The strange double-speak halted as she spoke his name, as if the two colors of smoke had coagulated into a third color that only somewhat resembled its component hues. A mortal’s name spoken with a draconic accent.  

“Its a honor to know that you remember my name… Tiamat.” he said. He briefly entertained the thought that hearing an alien creature speak her name was just as strange to her as it was to him. The thought made his face soften to a warm smile.  

He walked towards her with some trepidation, knowing that she could end him with the slightest flick of her tail or tap of her claw, but emboldened by the knowledge that she would not. As he approached within a few fulms, she lowered her head, tilting it like a great bird so that he was staring directly into one crimson eye.  He was all too aware of how small and vulnerable he was as a pupil larger than his whole head began to constrict before him.

“Thou art still frightened, I see… As thy kin should always be of dragonkind.“ she said, snorting a jet of hot air from her nostrils. “But it is of no consequence. It gladdens me that thou answered my call.”

“It gladdens me to see you free as well, but... do you need something from me? I doubt I can do much for you now...” Falerin said, clasping his hands behind his back to stop their shaking.

“No, child. I would not make a thrall of thee. It is merely my sentiment that thou art owed a victory for thine kindness.”

“A victory?”

“Yes, the victory of knowing that thou hast taught me a lesson that not even five thousand years of solitary contemplation could.” She stared at the sky.

“Since my emancipation, I have learned that a fraction of my undying love for Bahamut all these millenia may have been... What thou and thy mortal Spoken ilk call Tempering… The thought of it shames me deeply… That the sacred love of mine own heart became entangled with the profane obeisance of another‘s influence. And that I would fall prey to the same ailment as so many weaker creatures.”

Tempering? It sounded so improbable.  Falerin averted his gaze to the ground, his eyes fixating on her great claws, flexing nervously into the dirt. As if she were a person fidgeting with a tablecloth.

“I don’t think that’s shameful at all.” he said. “If anything, isn’t it a relief to know that not all of your suffering came from your own soul?  Doesn‘t that fact make you feel a little more like you can forgive yourself?”

“Thou mistaketh me, mortal. The shame of my grief and my guilt will be with me until the end of time… But the shame I feel now is one that I can act upon.  For five thousand years, I branded my imprisonment as atonement… However it was nothing more than indulgence of my own vanity. An excuse to remain helpless and uninvolved in the plight of this star.”

Falerin smiled again.  “You made yourself your own worst enemy…. But you were able to see that wasn’t the case once the real enemy was at the gates.”

“Yes… Thou dist come to me not to ridicule nor coddle, but simply to be by my side in my grief.  To sing with me, to give voice to my suffering. None had ever done such a thing for me, not even mine own kin.  It may not have been thee who freed me, but it was thee who heralded the coming of dawn. And for that, you have my deepest thanks.”

“I was right then?” Falerin said, a hint of mischief in his voice.

Tiamat lifted her head to the sky, issuing a staccato series of stifled roars that he could feel in his chest like a drumbeat. As alien as the sound was, he knew laughter when he heard it. He realized now that this was the most freely he had ever heard her speak.

When the next words were spoken, the strange sensation of double-speak came from the fact that man and dragon spoke the exact same words, at the exact same moment.

“One day the sadness will end.”

((Three.  Hours.  To write this.  it’s a bit of an abrupt end, but I have to stop writing for the day before I chew my own hands off. Good god am I out of practice. Also sorry if this doesn‘t make much sense on its own - there are a bunch of prequels to it from past FFXIVwrites that I’m drawing on.))

#ffxivwrite2022 #prompt 3: Cross

[the-wardens-torch]

What Primal Source are you Connected To?

Tagged by @traveleorzea, thank you for remembering me! ;o; Also The Dragon Prince is pretty good.

"My mother told me to never turn my back on the ocean, and an old sailor once told me to never lose sight of the sea. One spoke out of hate, and the other out of love. They were both right."

-Falerin Arcita

Quiz here for anyone reading this who would like to do it!

#character asks #character memes #primal source quiz

[the-wardens-torch]

Febhyurary: Day 6 - Footfalls

((Takes place a week or so after teenage Fal came to live with the folks of Little Ala Mhigo after being driven away from his adopted mother‘s tribe.))

“So we’re crossing Broken Water to reach the Ring of Ash… “ Falerin said.  He was squinting his eyes so much he could barely see Alain in front of him.  “Are all the place names around here about how dry and hot everything is?”

“Not The Sepulchre!” Alain responded cheerfully… Falerin hadn’t known him long enough to discern if he was trying to be funny or if he was just that thick. This was not the first time he had had this problem, and it most likely would not be the last.

“Besides, you’ll need to know this route if you’re going to stay with us - The Brotherhood of Ash are good people.  I’ll introduce you. But you know… I don’t think I’ve asked you yet. Do you have a last name?”

“Well, I guess its just… Arcita.” Falerin replied.

“Isn’t that just the name of the town you said you were from?” Alain said, looking over his shoulder.  Falerin could make out the quizzical expression on his face as his eyes continued adjusting to the light.

“…Well, its what my mother wrote on the passenger manifest when we boarded the ship to the mainland, anyway.“ he said. “But don‘t a lot of people without family names just name themselves after their hometowns anyway?” he added hastily.

“But why didn’t she just let you use her name?” Alain said, slowing down so that he was walking just a few fulms to Falerin’s right.

Falerin cast his gaze towards his feet as if the sun was once again blinding him. Alain had a way of asking the most uncomfortable questions in the most harmless ways.  

Falerin took a deep breath of the dry, desiccated air. Just a few summers earlier, he had asked his mother if he could take her last name. She had put down the arrowhead she‘d been whittling and been quiet for a moment before she answered him. That would be silly, she said, because if he took her last name, that would make him a girl and her sister, not a boy and her son. She had said all of this while smiling, but there had been a tension in her jaw and a distance in her gaze.

“Nooo….” Falerin said with an exhaled sigh. “That wouldn’t have made any sense. She was a Seeker... They don‘t assign names the same way Hyurs do.”

Alain was quiet for a moment, and the only sounds in the air were the buzzing of the insects and the sandy crunch of their footfalls. Falerin had been at Little Ala Mhigo for less than a week. Why did he have to deal with all of these stupid questions?  Couldn’t he just earn his keep and nurse the pain of his abandonment in peace? He looked up at Alain and tried to think of the most tactful thing he could say to end this conversation. But Alain met his gaze and spoke first.

“But why did it matter if she wasn’t even with her tribe? If she was an exile, why would she even care?” He said bluntly. There was a softness in his dark eyes, and his brow was furrowed with curiosity and concern.  

“I mean… Its not like its not already obvious you two weren’t blood kin. What, did she expect you to grow fuzzy ears and a tail before she‘d really call you her son?” he said, his face breaking into a smile.

The question, jest though it was, hit Falerin like an arrow to the knee.  Many summers before he had asked his mother about taking her name, he had tried to fashion himself his own set of Miqo’te ears and a tail with scraps of cloth and leather to be more like her… She had snatched them away and thrown them on the ground the second she laid eyes on them. It was only when she saw the tears welling up in his eyes that she had hugged him tight and stroked his hair while shakily uttering words of benign reassurance.  

Again, was Alain completely oblivious, or all too aware? Falerin looked away. He wanted to piece together his anger again, to tell Alain to just drop the subject and let them get on with their trek. Suddenly Alain clapped a dusty hand down on Falerin’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to offend you.  I‘m just curious. Really, its just nice to have someone my age to talk to.  Everyone else at LAM is already tired of me. The other ‘Mhigans here don‘t like when I ask too many questions about the past… I think they‘re just too proud.”

Pride.  Was that what it was? His mother had been possessed of a fierce pride in her heritage and her race that she hadn’t given up, even after exiling herself to a foreign land. She had taught him the songs and crafts and language of her people with great joy, but stopped short at letting him adopt that culture as his own. Should he really have been so surprised that it had ended like this?  With her returning to her tribe and him driven out at the point of a spear?

Alain abruptly pulled Falerin from his introspection with a playful side-hug, their heads bumping gently together for a quick moment.  Though he couldn’t tell if it had been intentional or just due to their feet navigating the stony road, it was reassuring all the same.

((Love is stored in the bonk. Also you would not believe how many hours it took me to write this. Forgive me for any continuity or grammar or syntax errors, I’m forcibly distancing myself from this now because its taken so much of my time already. The creative block is real.))

#Febhyurary #in-character #ffxiv writing #my writing #also bonus game #find the minion I forgot to dismiss #when taking this screenshot #Falerin Arcita #Alain Daltamar