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blackestnight · 2 years

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9: sleep mode

Prompt: Yawn

Word count: 1011

Obligatory I know basically nothing about computer languages or coding, I did my best to google but I know this is entirely wrong, don’t @ me I’m a humanities major. Also Tumblr goofed the formatting so I did my best.

Set post-Endwalker, contains spoilers for the Omega raids and the Beyond the Rift sidequests.

ACCESS FILES > LOCAL > EVOLUTION DIRECTIVES > PENDING INVESTIGATION > SUBFOLDER TITLE ‘INVESTIGATION HEARTLESS.’

APPROXIMATE LOC 68° N 51° E ETHEIRYAN LOCAL - GEOLOCATION SENSORS INSUFFICIENT FOR DETAILED CELESTIAL POSITIONING. COLLOQUIAL DESIGNATION “CAMP BROKEN GLASS.” RESUME ENTRY.

Chassis requires additional thermal shielding. >function Create Sub-directive (PERSONAL UPGRADES) { >request further modification by Garlond Ironworks designations BIGGS and WEDGE. Improvements to insulation increase chances of survival by estimated 68.327% in adverse climates. Estimated improvements to combat capability: negligible. }

The mortals belonging to the function groups designations EORZEAN ALLIANCE - SUBSET ILSABARDIAN CONTINGENT and GARLEAN EMPIRE (DEFUNCT) - SUBSET IST LEGION have provided a wealth of data for this unit’s review regarding the ongoing examination of the ability known as ‘strength of heart.’ Archival of audiovisual recordings into appropriate sub-storage folders in progress, completion status: 73.14%.

Companion designations ALPHA and WARRIOR OF LIGHT >function File Update Required (WARRIOR OF LIGHT) { >query VOICE: “I have previously explained the personal designations of the Omicrons. Prior to my reassignment to the self-evolving weapons construct chassis designated OMEGA, this unit was known as M-017. I understand that, prior to your evolution into the weapon designated WARRIOR OF LIGHT, your personal designation was HANAMI HAGANE. Which is your current preferred designation? Please respond.” }

Awaiting response…

Visual feedback indicates changes to facial muscles records designation FROWN. Audio: 《I am not a weapon anymore. My name is Hanami.》

File updates applied.

Companion designations ALPHA and HANAMI HAGANE are undergoing rituals in preparation for nightly energy recovery. Ritualistic significance unclear. Alpha is not an organic being, and his design parameters allow him to draw energy solely from food consumption. Records from previous observation of Hanami Hagane’s physiological makeup and evaluation of planetary technological and pharmaceutical development indicate organic creatures native to Etheirys possess means to produce pharmaceuticals, local designation ETHERS, which would allow for multiple days of activity without requiring extended rest periods.

>query VOICE: “I require clarification on the purpose of your ‘sleep.’ We Omicrons entered a similar state while undergoing repairs or routine diagnostics, but this mode leaves you vulnerable to attack and slows reaction times to potential environmental hazards. Why do you persist in entering this state, rather than utilizing substances which replenish energy levels without requiring stasis? Please respond.”

Visual response impaired: Hanami Hagane is presently modifying chassis, local designation CLOTHING. Hypothesis: substitution of clothing reduces impairment to functions required for current task. Current modification local designation SWEATER provides equivalent thermal insulation to chassis modification designation ARMOR, but does not provide adequate protection in case of physical attack. Audio: 《What, do you mean using drugs to stay awake? I did that a few times. It only works for a day or two at most, anyway, then you get so jittery and useless that you have to sleep anyway and you are out for a week recovering. It really is not worth it unless you’re stuck somewhere you can’t catch a few hours.》

Response contains insufficient data. >query VOICE: “I require further information. What is the cause of this phenomenon you describe as ‘jittery?’ Records indicate the substance you call ‘ether’ is engineered to replenish energy expended by both physical and mental labor. Is there some component it lacks?”

Visual response impaired: chassis modifications ongoing. Audio: 《Yes? I asked a healer about it once, she said something about us needing sleep because we need to dream. It’s…I think it is how our minds sort through all the things we see and feel. You probably do not need to dream, I have no idea if you know what I’m talking about.》

Response contains insufficient data. >query VOICE: “What is this phenomenon you refer to as ‘dreaming?’”

Awaiting response…

Hypothesis: chassis modifications have impaired audio sensors belonging to Hanami Hagane. Suggested action: repetition of query >PAUSE.

Visual response unclear, pending further analysis. Subject’s mouth exhibits muscular movements designation SMILE, but previous data indicates contraction of facial muscles surrounding eyes indicate negative emotions, possible designation SADNESS. Audio: 《It’s what we do when our hearts work through what our minds can’t make sense of, I guess. …I am going to bed now. Come on, Alpha—there you go. Omega, do you want to come up here? It should keep you warm. We will leave for Bestways Burrow in the morning.》

Response contains insufficient data. Further queries unlikely to improve responses. >function Define term (dreaming) { >Access: Native physiology > Neuro-psychological > A succession of images, ideas, sensations, and emotions that occur in organic minds during sleep. Dreaming periods observed to last between 5 and 20 minutes, cumulative total average 2 hours per rest cycle. Purpose unknown. }

Response requires action. Hypothesis: thermal energy generated by Alpha and Hanami Hagane will prove sufficient in heating this chassis, estimated reduced energy expenditure to maintain function: 29698.032 joules. >respond VOICE: “I require manual assistance in reaching the mattress. Proposed schedule for departure within acceptable time frame.”

Undergoing external transport. Awaiting gyroscopic feedback…

Designations Alpha and Hanami Hagane are both reclined in horizontal positions conductive to sleep. Proposed destination: rear arc of Hanami Hagane’s knee joints. Leg structures provide a defensible position and proximity of organic structures will ensure efficient heating.

Alpha continues to defy all logic and has relocated to lay on top of this unit. Impairment to function: negligible.

Visual analysis unavailable due to sensor obstruction. Audio: 《Good night, Alpha. …Omega.》

Visual analysis unavailable due to sensor obstruction. Audio: 《[Kweh!]》

No response required. >respond VOICE: “Good night, Hanami Hagane. Good night, Alpha.”

Current chassis contains limited biometric sensors. Based on observed patterns, Alpha is already asleep. Insufficient data available to hypothesize speed of Hanami Hagane’s sleep cycle.

Hypothesis: if ‘dreaming’ is the mechanism by which organic beings process their experiences, functionally sensory data altered by organic logic pathways, this unit may dream by remaining in a state of rest while processing data from ongoing investigation. >function Update function (background processing) { >apply new name: DREAMING }

Function updates applied.

This unit will commence dreaming.

SYSTEM REVIEW: ENTRY CONTAINS MINIMAL RELEVANCE TO PROPOSED FILE LOCATION. ADVISE DELETION OR RELOCATION TO OPTIMIZE STORAGE.

DELETE ENTRY Y/N?

#ffxivwrite 2022 #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv omega #beyond the rift #oc: hanami hagane #omega #alpha #tried something VERY different for this one and idk how well it worked or how readable it is #[shrug emoji]#i like it though #writing - mine

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fair-fae · 2 years

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FFxivWrite22 Entry #7: Pawn

FFxivWrite 2022 FFxivWrite22 Masterpost Prompt #7: Pawn Every interaction was a game, and Lady Covington always intended to win. She had been a puppet on a string before, and with her every action, she ensured such a thing would never happen again. That did not mean she would not subjugate others to the same fate, however. What was a game without pawns, after all? Others might accuse her of failing to see the value of those around her, but she felt quite the contrary. Everyone had their uses, and she liked to pinpoint those. If all else failed, even someone otherwise worthless was still good for dying.

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pellaaearien · 2 years

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FFXIV Write #16 - Deiform

Prompt: deiform || Master Post || On AO3

400 words

Eyn’ara is mortal. Aymeric knows this better than most.

She sleeps with her mouth open and drools on the pillow. Her nose crinkles up when something is too sweet. Her Limsan accent mixed with garbled Cant makes her speech nigh unintelligible when she is tired. He has seen zombies more lively than Eyn’ara before her first cup of black, black coffee. Her eyes glow with excitement when she is happy, her words running together in her eagerness. She becomes clingy and affectionate when drunk, like the time he put her to bed after a night out carousing with the Scions, only to experience her batting his earring about like a cat toy.

(He has told no one about this and he doesn’t know if Eyn’ara remembers it.)

And yet.

She is the star’s blessed chosen, touched by Hydaelyn Herself. She has achieved feats the likes of which others could only dream.

She descended like a falling star from the dragonkiller tower on the Steps of Faith, dealing Vishap such a mighty blow to the jaw that the massive dragon had actually reeled.

He sees it in the way she looks above him in their bed, hair a flame fierce enough to match her eyes in the candlelight as he understands the smallest fraction of what her enemies must have felt when they faced her down.

She is Eorzea’s first and last line of defense, and the great and terrible compassion in her heart would leave no peoples undefended whilst she still draws breath, which is why not just Eorzea, but Ala Mhigo and Doma and other shards and distant times and the entire universe call her their saviour and owe her their lives.

He sees it in the way those slender shoulders do not buckle under the weight.

He has grown up under the watchful, stone-cold gaze of the Fury. If Halone’s face sometimes takes on different features in his prayers, he knows well enough to keep that to himself.

Because it is to him Eyn’ara comes when she needs to be mortal. When she needs to lay down her burden. When she needs to be soft. When she needs to be reminded that she is human, and beloved.

She asks for so little, and so that becomes his role. He will be that space for her. Because the one who holds his heart is not the Hero of Light, but the very mortal woman in his arms.

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#ffxivwrite 2022 #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #wolmeric #aymeric x eyn'ara #oc: eyn'ara rainshadow #still catching up #that's it that's the ship #otp: sun and snow #pella writes

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foewreckem · 2 years

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ffxivwrite #2: bolt

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She didn’t know what a socket wrench was but she knew what a wrench was, so a socket wrench had to be the same thing but slightly to the left, basically.

“It’s in the top right drawer,” Cid called from the bottom floor of the workshop, because he somehow always knew when she was bullshitting, even if she was doing it in her brain.

“Yeah, I’ve got it, just a sec,” Aoife called back down. Except she didn’t have it because the top right drawer was stuck. Frowning, she gave it a couple of tugs as she heard a pair of boots start to climb the metal stairs. “I’ve totally got it!”

“Aoife, I f--”

Cid was cut off when her final sharp tug sent the drawer and its collection of nuts, bolts, and screws to the floor. The noise seemed to go longer than physically possible, ending in the sound of a lone bit of metal plinking solemnly down the stairs.

Cid looked at the floor, then at the drawer, and then at her, before holding up a wrenchy-looking thing.

“I found it under the engine.”

#ffxivwrite 2022 #s: spanner in the works #mooglesoft word

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ahlis-xiv · 2 years

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FFXIVWrite 2022 Prompt #2: Bolt

I don’t weave as much as I used to when I was younger, when my mother was alive. I never learned to knit well either, something about the yarn never quite cooperating with me.

Mother would say sometimes it was my lack of the kind of care needed for such a craft. Which is just silly as I enjoy embroidery far more than any of that. I do have patience after all, when it’s worthy of it at least. Just that...if I said the truth of the matter, that knitting was just utterly dull and boring, she’s make me do even more of it!

There’s just something more to the precision of the needle. A bolt of fabric or yarn can be made pretty with a good set of dye, but it’s the intricate threads that can bring out true beauty when it is done well. I can get lost in finding the lengths I can go with a needle in my hand. Such a sharp, and direct thing it is, to focus that small point through cloth. The mindful path to create a picture such as a landscape, or flowers, a pattern of an animal or sigil that comes together to form a sign for luck or fortune.

I wish I had learned more from my mother. It was her forte, after all, outside the use of a polearm and a blade. Yet what little I do have will live on, I suppose. Maybe, if the day comes when I retire my work sooner than later, I just might make a life of it.

#ffxivwrite 2022 #my writing #ahlis #ahlis loves embroidery! but most of y'all probably already knew that lol #she has many skills

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punches-and-cream-puffs · 2 years

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15. Row

Her feet had wandered into the Twelveswood, far from the roads. The further she wandered, the easier she breathed. Further still and she'd stopped looking over her shoulder. There was solace out there, deep from the prying eyes and lurking threats that haunted her dreams. Out in woods deep and dark and wild did she find peace.

Boots crunching on leafy ground as she wove her way through the ocean of trees, sunlight dappling the earth through the orange and gold canopy above. Onward until umber and flame gave way to verdant lush, till trees laden with fruit filled her vision, the scent of apple heavy in the air.

The Orchard.

And at it's center, the apple tree had twisted, grown, flourished....looming over the clearing at the center with it's boughs of many colors; golden fruits alongside ruby and emeralds, silently beckoning the passerby closer. Begging them to take a few. A dozen. Fill your baskets overflowing. Feast.

But it was one apple in particular that she focused on, it's golden sheen near metallic. The last time she'd seen it, it'd been large, but now it was engorged, hanging upside down from a cluster of leaves. It hung perfectly still, and had it not been for it's positioning, it may have passed for a normal apple.

But she knew better. She remembered the grin, the rows of woodteeth still stained and splattered red. The gangly limbs.

But still she stood, watching as the gnarled, twisted limbs dropped down in a heap, as the creature pulled itself up. The passing season, it had just been and apple with long limbs, but now a torso was forming, the apple settling in place as a head, splitting into that same wood-fanged grin as it stared down at the tiny blonde that stood in it's territory. She could smell the faintest hint of rot in the air.

"You've grown." Her voice remained light, conversational, but her eyes never left the applebourne creature as it started to circle. Eyeless gaze boring into her, sizing her up. Not many returned a second time. Some never left.

"...I gathered apples here last year without permission." The creature gave a hiss, an acknowledgement. A judgement. Who could say?

"I come offering apologies." The crunching of leaves and twigs around her came to a stop. "I didn't think to stop to see if I should ask permission, and for that I offer my apologies and reparations, if you'll accept." Her hand rose, a wicker basket held out. And subsequently snatched, the creature moving faster than her eye could follow, her breath stilling as she waited for a response.

The basket was opening, the golden fruit tilting towards it as it inspected the offering, before it straightened stiffly. In a blink, it stood before her, gnarled vines lifting a few strands of golden locks as it leaned closer.

Close enough she could smell the familiar twang of copper and rot.

"T͏r̀͡ą̵́͘v̵̴̸҉̸è̢̕͞҉̡ļ͘҉̶̕͠ ̸̢͡͞͝͡ẁ̵̨̢̧͜ȩ҉̵҉̷ļ̨̛͠l̡͡,̴ ̸̢S̵̶͜͟ų̵̸̸͞ņ̸̡͝͞͝l͏̢̀͘͘͞i̶̧̛̛͟͠g̵̶̢̢̀͢h̵̸̛͢͢t̸̸̀͢.̸͏" The breathy whisper made her skin tingle, hair standing on end as she felt the stagnant breath against her cheek and neck. She could almost feel the air crackle, and it was only sheer force of will that kept her in place until the creature stood back, leaping back up into it's throne of a tree, obscured by the leaves as it tore into the honeyed meats.

A soft word of thanks was offered to the grove, and a single apple picked for herself, before her footfalls carried her away, leaving the fruit-fallen to it's feast.

#ffxiv #ffxiv write #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2022 #ffxivwrite 2022 #ffxiv write 2022 #drabble #one day apple fucker will have a name #today is not that day #tomorrow aint looking good either

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chrysalispen · 2 years

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FFXIVWrite 2022

Prompt #1: Cross

Garlean Warrior of Light [Aurelia Laskaris], original characters, Gaius van Baelsar

AO3 LINK HERE

Fic beneath cut.

====================================

A disconsolate sigh broke the silence, echoing against the purple-toned stones and granite floors.

The palace stood as a towering monument to Ala Mhigan might- or it had done so, once. Anshelm Cotter's descendants had sat the throne for a thousand years, their reign ended in ignominy but a handful of years ago. The XIVth Legion of the Garlean Empire had acted upon their opportunity and sacked the city. The wings full of grand rooms stood all but empty nowadays save for swarms of imperial bureaucrats and the odd legate officer.

The sole occupant of the massive guest wing hallway this evening was a young Garlean girl of ten and a half winters, chewing on the end of one errant forelock and glaring at the light that spilled from the opened doors ahead. She let her shoulders slump and heaved another loud and self-pitying sigh for good measure.

All for naught, it seemed, as none of the nearby adults appeared to take any notice.

Isn't there anything to do around here? I'm so bored.

Only a sennight past Father had announced over supper that there was to be a garden party at the viceroy's palace, hosting all the officers of the legion along with their families. Aurelia would be going, of course, he told L'haiya, and she was to have a new dress made for the occasion. "House Laskaris has our pride to consider," he said, "and I'll not have us put to shame before the other families."

Aurelia barely heard the rest of it. She was thrilled beyond words. The viceroy's palace! And Father wanted to take her with him to a grownup party! He was always going there for important meetings with the army, and now she was finally going to see inside a real palace, and Sazha and Elle would be coming too!

She tried to imagine what it would be like-- there would be fine food and music, no doubt. Maybe even dancing. They were going to a palace, after all.

It was all so exciting that she'd been unable to think of aught else: her studies or even her pianoforte lessons, and L'haiya had given up on forcing the matter halfway through the week.

When they'd arrived, however, she discovered that they were only allowed free reign in one small wing of the building. It consisted of a parlor, a dining room, a library with books full of words that her governess said would be too dense for Aurelia to read, and the small porch and garden beyond.

"But I want to see the whole palace," she complained, crossing her arms in a huff.

"Don't pout, Aurelia. It's unseemly. The reason we're not allowed elsewhere is because the palace is the viceroy's administrative building. The rest of the palace is meant for him and his staff. It's full of important things, and all the tasks the viceroy has to do to keep the province running as smoothly as possible."

"Important things? What sort of things?"

"Things not meant for young eyes," her governess had said, unmistakable irritation in her voice. Aurelia and Sazha exchanged dismayed glances; they both knew that meant her patience was at an end. "As for you, young mistress Laskaris-- you'll be minding me and your lord father and remain where you're bid, do you understand? No exploring out of bounds."

Needless to say, Aurelia's disillusionment had caused the novelty of their palace visit to wear off very quickly. As if to add insult to injury, only moments after their arrival Father had taken Sazha with him and ordered her to remain in the parlor. L'haiya had been drawn into conversation by another Miqo'te woman, leaving Aurelia to her own devices once she was satisfied the girl wouldn't go into any of the restricted areas.

This wasn't turning out at all to be the exciting evening she had hoped for. Feeling quite put out indeed, Aurelia made her way towards the opened back doors, seeking a private place to sulk. Somewhere outside, where Elle couldn't find her and scold her for unladylike behavior.

Once she reached the heavy-looking porch railing she stood on her tiptoes and leveraged her weight up - heedless of the way her dress snagged on the rough-cut bricks and mortar - and stared out over the garden with a listless scowl.

The grounds were very pretty, she had to admit that. Father had called them 'lavish' when he'd described them to her and Elle. He had said this was the smallest of five, built for the old king's wife to host her guests from far away lands. They were still larger than anything Aurelia had ever seen before, certainly nothing like her own small flower bed and its tiny mosaic fountain.

Soft-looking lanterns hung in graceful loops along the outlines of pots and trellises, and the warm evening air sat like a soft blanket on her shoulders, laden with the scents of several flowers she didn't recognize. The greenery was all a kind of pungent-smelling shrub she'd never seen before: immense and close-cut things all trimmed into shapes as if they were statues. They stood like dark sentinels at each corner, guarding the neatly laid brick pathways (Aurelia couldn't help but wonder why the pretty brick footpaths were all just one big circle. They didn't seem to go anywhere interesting at all).

Clusters of officers, all men, milled about the paths in their dress uniforms, laughing and chatting with each other over their drinks. She spotted a few women as well in their evening gowns for the occasion. A few of them wore jewels to decorate their ears and wrists and necks but even those who didn't were no less dazzling to her eyes. Silk organza and sachet drifted about them like perfumed clouds, and in the encroaching twilight all those wispy-looking gowns reminded her of ghostly moth wings. They seemed to flutter about the lights, as if drawn to them.

Aurelia tried to listen to the adults' conversation for some few minutes, but heard nothing worth her attention. The ones who weren't gossiping about other grownups were talking about happenings in the far-off capital and things like trade routes-- subjects she either didn't understand or wasn't interested enough to care about.

With a certain sense of disgust she decided to explore the rest of the grounds by herself. If Sazha got mad that she'd gone ahead without him, well, it was his own fault.

She meandered past the long table with the big glass bowl and little crystal cups - the kitchen staff were scooping spoonfuls of something colorful into small bowls, but she wasn't curious enough to watch - and around the deck. Beyond the sweeping stairs and idle noise she made a discovery: the well-lit upper slope of a neatly trimmed verge. It rolled down a gentle hill and at its base lay sandstone walls and the very tall gates she had seen on their approach (L'haiya had sternly told her to stay away from them) and a few trees like the one by their parlor window at home.

The sound of voices nearby-- young voices-- stopped her in her tracks.

"No, no! You're doing it all wrong, Horatius," someone was saying. Aurelia's brow wrinkled in a frown. The lights from the party didn't go all the way out to the wall; part of the verge was dark and if she squinted she could just barely make out movement below. A bunch of-- boys, it sounded like? Some of the officers' kids, maybe. "You're just supposed to make him jump. Like this."

In almost the same instant she heard an answering clang and rattle, and the cluster of boys below broke into raucous laughter. Aurelia was halfway down the slope, snatching up a stone before she could even think about what she was doing.

The laughing was instantly silenced at the sight of her approach, and in the same instant she saw her best friend, crouched in the grass and staring steadily at his feet. His ears were flattened against his head, and his tail...

They had tied empty cans to his tail.

Enraged, Aurelia rounded on his tormentors, and as she did she recognized Horatius and Linus, two neighborhood boys who always went around causing trouble together. The third boy lived two houses down from the Laskaris villa, a timid lad even younger than herself. "Victor," she snapped at him, "go on. Get out of here."

His chin wobbled, but lifted in defiance nonetheless. "No girl tells me what to do."

"Victor bas Ennius," Aurelia put on the most threatening scowl she could muster, "you get out of here and go back to that party right now and maybe I won't have L'haiya tell your mum what I saw you doing. If you're lucky."

Victor looked from her cold and furious face to the two larger boys and she watched his resolve crumble like a piece of chalk left out in the rain. He stumbled backward a few steps, then took off running up the verge towards the garden. The two remaining boys, laughing, shouted insults after him, called him a coward.

Good, she thought angrily. It's what he deserves. He knows better.

"Relia," Sazha muttered at her back. His voice was unsteady enough to let her know that he was close to tears. "Don't."

"What's the matter?" Horatius' words were as cloying as the exaggerated pout he wore. "Aww, don't be so mad, Aurelia! We didn't know the ickle kitty cat was yours."

"You should put a collar on him in case he gets lost again," Linus chimed in, jabbing at his accomplice's ribs with one elbow, and the pair broke into a fresh wave of jeering laughter. Aurelia could feel the stone, still clasped securely within her closed fist as she stepped forward.

"Where did you get those cans, anyway, Linus?" she shot back. "Did you dig them out of the trash bin with you when you got up this morning?"

Linus' smile disappeared.

"You better watch your mouth if you know what's good for you and your friend, you little brat."

"And you better leave Sazha alone from now on. Or else."

"Or else what? You think we're scared of you?" Horatius shot back. "Think your pater's going to come beat us up for you? He doesn't have the stones. Not for the bastard he got stuck with."

Aurelia's face blanched to the color of paper. She was young yet, but she knew well enough what that word meant.

"You take that back!"

"Yeah? Are you gonna make me, bastard?"

"Stop, Relia!" Sazha shouted, dragging himself to his feet at last. "Don't let him-"

He was too late and Aurelia would have paid him no mind even if she had been willing to listen.

She reared back her fist and belted Horatius bas Dellius in the face as hard as she could. There was a loud and awful crunching noise, the rock in her hand lending force to the blow. Horatius' nose all but crumpled under her fist and a bright spray of red erupted behind it.

Something warm and wet struck her cheeks and her neck, but Aurelia barely noticed through her furious haze. She hit him a second time, and a third, and another, and another.

He fell to the ground and Aurelia fell with him.

Someone nearby was shouting an alarum. There were footsteps, multiple footsteps on the grass. Aurelia heard and didn't care. They weren't important. She hissed and spat and shouted the foulest curses she could remember overhearing from her father at the top of her lungs, fists flying with as many wild punches as her small and spindly body could manage to land.

Horatius recovered from his shock quickly. One of his own fists struck her square in the jaw and cheekbone-- but even the shocking flash of pain that cracked through her temple and the stars crackling at the edges of her vision weren't enough to stop her rampage. He grabbed one of her wrists and yanked her forward to grab a fistful of her curls, then lost his grip when teeth sank into the unprotected meat of his forearm.

"Get her off me!" he shouted, but Aurelia was not done.

"Father does want me!" she screamed, still pummeling. "He does! He does! You take that back, Horatius bas Dellius! You take that back!!"

"Make-"

"ENOUGH!"

A pair of hands scruffed them both and dragged them apart, as effortlessly as if they were pups fighting over table scraps. Aurelia dangled mid-air, still spitting curses as Horatius was dropped without ceremony to the ground. His left eye was blackened and his face was covered in blood-- what little she could see of it with him cupping his nose with both hands.

Her belly dropped through the ground when she saw her governess' face, livid with anger.

"Aurelia Constantia bas Laskaris," L'haiya dus Eyahri hissed, shaking her by the collar, "you are in a world of trouble, young miss."

"They were hurting Sazha! They were throwing rocks at him! And Horatius called me-"

"I do not care what he called you! You've humiliated me and you've made a fool of yourself and your father. Do you have any idea what-"

"Mistress Eyahri," a deep, mild voice interrupted, "if I may?"

A tall, bronzed man stepped forward, wearing a scarlet-trimmed black uniform. Father had some of the medals he wore on his chest, but this man had far more of them and there were quite a few of them that Aurelia didn't recognize. His expression was grave but she thought she saw the faint quirk of a smile turning up one corner of his mouth.

Elle immediately lowered her charge to the ground.

"My lord," she said, her bow and her speech both more formal than Aurelia had ever heard before. "I offer Lord rem Laskaris' most sincere apologies for his daughter's behavior. Pray forgive the girl; she is young and thoughtless."

The stranger still wore that oddly rueful half-smile. "There is nothing to forgive, madam," he replied. "Tribunus sas Dellius might feel otherwise, perhaps. All the same, he is a reasonable man, and I rather believe he will consider this incident highly educational for his son. Perhaps young Horatius will consider his actions -- and the odds -- more wisely in future."

Out of the corner of her eye Aurelia thought she saw the boy cringe and look away. Or maybe he was just trying to stop his nose from bleeding.

"As you say, lord viceroy."

He inclined his chin towards her governess in acknowledgement before turning his attention to Aurelia herself. She swallowed, her stomach turning in sudden apprehension (or perhaps it was the building throb of pain in her bruised face. Horatius' punch was starting to really hurt). She had attacked a tribune's son at the viceroy's garden party - a tribune who was one of her father's superiors.

Bad enough that Elle had seen it, but Lord van Baelsar had seen it too and that was so much worse. Father was going to be furious.

"Young mistress Laskaris, I presume," he said. He took her right hand - either not noticing or simply not minding that her knuckles were smeared red - and patted it gently. "A pleasure to meet you. Your father speaks well of you."

"He does?" Aurelia bit her lip, winced at a fresh wave of pain and the coppery taste of her own blood, and tried with all the pitiful dignity she still possessed to sketch him a curtsy. A very clumsy, wobbly curtsy; the world still spun a touch and she felt very dizzy. "P-pleased to meet you. Lord Viceroy. Ser."

"It was very brave of you to come to your young friend's rescue. You were outnumbered," he said. "Somewhat foolhardy, yes. But very brave. And strong. That strength will serve you well."

Aurelia wasn't sure if it was praise, not quite, but she'd take it. "Thank you, ser."

He was almost smiling; there was something like a twinkle in his pale golden eyes. "A word of advice, Mistress Laskaris." The legatus took her hand and balled it into a fist, then gently clasped her wrist and guided her arm in a slow arc through the air. "Aim like this the next time you throw a punch. You'll hit your target more often, you'll strike with more concentrated force, and you stand a far lesser chance of injuring yourself."

She couldn't think of anything to say except, "I'll remember that, ser."

As if no incident had transpired at all, the viceroy stood and strode back up the verge towards the garden without another word spoken. After a few bemused moments, the rest of the party followed.

~*~

"Was it worth it?" Sazha asked later. He'd grabbed his brush when she sneaked downstairs to get him, and now he sat on her bed while she brushed his freshly washed tail to a glorious, shining softness. Its tip twitched gently against the palm of her hand.

"Was what worth it?"

"Your da grounding you for the next fortnight."

"Aye, it was. ...Maybe. My dress is ruined from all the blood, I thi- Hey! Ow!" She slapped his hand away with a wince. "Don't poke my cheek! it hurts!"

"The medicus didn't heal it?"

"Not all of it. He said it has to heal on its own."

"Oh."

They fell silent for a moment. Aurelia could hear the burble of her little garden fountain through the open window. A cool breeze struck her face, whispering gently against her cheek and the eye that had swollen shut. She sighed.

"Sazha?"

"Yeah?"

"I wanted to say that... that I'm sorry. About tonight. I should have listened. I know you didn't want me to pick a fight, but I couldn't stop myself."

"I just didn't want you to get in trouble." His brow creased with a worried frown. "And are you all right? What they said to you about your father, that was cruel. I knew there was talk but-"

"What they said doesn't matter. Not really. It hurt but it just... on top of everything else it just made me mad more than anything. They were going to really hurt you, Sazha. I had to do something." She set down the brush in her hand. "...Have they been doing that kind of stuff to you this whole time?"

"Not the whole time." He shrugged listlessly, eyes cast away from hers. "I'm usually better at making sure they can't find me."

"Sazha, if you had just said something-"

"And then what? Relia, you don't understand how things are for me. Or for Elle. You can't, because you can't see them."

"See?"

"It's... never mind." It was Sazha's turn to sigh. "It's not something I can explain and it doesn't matter now anyway."

"Sazha-"

"I told you, never mind. I don't want to talk about it anymore." He slid off her bed, righted himself, then paused. The distant expression in his eyes was gone and the boy she knew was there once more, offering her a mischievous smirk. "...I'm not really all that sorry you stepped in, you know. I've never seen Horatius bas Dellius take a beating like that, and from someone half his size? I wager he had to empty his smalls when he got home."

"Elle was mad. Really mad."

"I know. She used your middle name."

"Right in front of Father's whole legion." Aurelia grinned. "I broke his nose."

"I think the viceroy was impressed."

"Father rather less so."

"It could have been worse."

"He'll never invite me to another dinner."

Sazha shrugged. "Maybe not, but do you really care?"

Aurelia considered the question for a beat. Recalled the elegance of the ladies' gowns, the uniforms, the grandeur of the palace and the food and the idle chatter. The gardens in their neat rows and the shaped shrubberies. At last she shook her head. The movement made her head throb in silent protest.

"Hells, no," she said with a short laugh. "That was the most boring party I've ever been to."

"You can say that again. Stay here."

"Where are you going?"

"To the kitchen. I don't know about you but I could eat a chocobo whole. Are you hungry? I can get you some mangoes."

"Sure!"

Aurelia beamed at Sazha. Once he had bounced through the door and drew it closed with a soft snick, she reached for one of the adventure stories from the shelf by her bed. She could practice reading her Eorzean letters while they ate.

The night, she thought cheerfully, was already improving.

#chrysalispen writes #ffxivwrite 2022 #prompt 1: cross #garlean warrior of light #aurelia laskaris #gaius van baelsar #original characters

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onwesterlywinds · 2 years

Text

PROMPT #2: Bolt

I call out to the skies and tremble as the brilliance of a thousand bolts blinds mine enemies and tears their flesh asunder!

Livvy Ahtynwyb Eynskyfwyn walked through the halls of the Orbonne Monastery feeling as though she had been there countless times before. In the wake of Mustadio's defeat, she could turn a corner and remember a time when laughter streamed out from a darkened stretch of corridor; even now, thousands of years removed, long-forgotten chants delivered in progressions in fifths unto a half-remembered deity seemed to echo through the dusty air, keeping the undead all around her at bay.

Then Ahtyn gazed up at a portrait, and the name of its subject was on the tip of her tongue until she remembered that she had never been here before. That realization did nothing to sway the unshakeable conviction that pounded like a heartbeat through her thoughts: I must keep her safe.

She stepped out of the dim cloister and was not surprised to meet a mirror of herself in the votive-lit cavern beyond.

The Beoulve youth guides your fate, but have you the faith to fulfill his legacy?

It was a strange thing, to call oneself a free paladin. The title was oxymoronic by nature, as any true paladin worthy of the distinction had a person or a place to swear themself to. That was the way of it in all the stories of eld - the canon to which she'd aspired long before she'd ever set out on her journey. Even if those stories had each bent history to their own whims, they'd resonated with truths all their own. That, as Ahtyn saw it, was power in its purest form.

Minfilia had been the closest she'd ever come to swearing herself to anything of note. Minfilia, to whom she had been drawn as if by fate, who had given her the inkling she'd needed to begin her adventures in earnest. And then Minfilia had answered Hydaelyn's call without a moment's hesitation in a way Ahtyn herself would have never had the courage to do. She had left Ahtyn to wander alone, bereft of any true lodestar. The Scions themselves could not fill the void she'd left, not least of all because half of them had fled.

There was a sort of futility to her station, even now: the inevitability of fighting to save a loved one whom she would only ever lose - whom she would never truly know.

To see Agrias before her, transformed by her purpose and centuries of dormant aether, brought that truth into perspective for perhaps the first time.

Ahtyn charged, met her shield with Agrias' own, and screamed out a grief she had not known she had been carrying.

***

Well fought, champion, she declared at last, and Ahtyn heaved a sigh. I leave you now to your quest.

Agrias blessedly returned to herself at the end, a final mercy. In the moment her soul departed, Ahtyn heard one last whisper, nearly lost amid the rush of water and the magicks that would convey her to her next foe.

My Ovelia awaits...

#FFXIVWrite #FFXIVWrite 2022 #Livvy Ahtynwyb

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fantasy-so-far · 2 years

Text

Day 1 - Cross

Violetta paced beside her brother’s bed. Though slumber was a rare visitor for her, he had found ways to sleep even when his illnesses were at their wracking. So, when she found him sleeping, she wrestled with the urgency she was feeling. She still didn’t quite have a handle on it when Valerian stirred.

“I dare say, sister,” he murmured with a groggy smirk. “You look downright cross.”

Violetta ceased her pacing to turn and look at him, her expression melting into a pout. “Is it terribly obvious?” She asked.

Valerian shifted up the bed, placing his back against the plush headboard and patting the empty spot beside him. The twins were close, even centuries and calamities had not changed that. Violetta dutifully slipped out of her boots and crawled up beside him. He wrapped a weak arm around her, and she did the same before resting her head on his shoulder.

“Tell brother your troubles, though if this is about your tall, handsome, and mysterious paramour, I may need a drink,” he teased.

Violetta rolled her scarlet eyes and shook her head.

“No. Not about him,” she sighed. “If only it were boy troubles.”

She didn’t mean it. The man she was falling for was not one that she would ever want troubles with, but perhaps petty romance woes would be better than what weighed on her so heavily.

“It is about your former retainer. It is about Jason Hollander,” she admitted after composing her thoughts. "I can’t find him and he’s still threatening us. He wants money. The sword wasn’t enough and now he wants money, or he swears he will bring the Patron back to this realm.”

Valerian remained silent, growing morose as the ancient chronometer steadily counted down the seconds across the room. After a bit, he brushed his hand back through his hair, flattening back his bare ears. They popped back up immediately, unwilted as Valerian continued to concentrate.

“I can locate him,” he said as he started to stir again.

Violetta moved to hold him in place. “No. That isn’t what I came here for. I just needed to talk freely about it.”

Valerian paused and looked at her with concern. “Can you not talk freely about this with your paramour? Or those that truly know you?”

“No, I can. And he’s …well not just him, but another, they have oathed to help me remove the threat. But, this our burden before it is theirs, isn’t it?”

“Vi…if the Patron crosses over, it becomes everyone’s problem. Everyone who is close to us,” Valerian reminded firmly. “What is this really about? You come here with anger and fear but you do not want to do anything about it? When have you ever chosen inaction?”

Words failed her for a few attempts, her painted lips parting and then closing systematically. Though frustrated with her hot and cold approach, Valerian gave her the time she needed, settling back in and wrapping his arm around her once more.

“I still fear I made the wrong choice and that makes me feel awful,” she admitted quietly. “Something about joining Graveyard Company and befriending so many of them makes me feel awful. Guilty. I am endangering them, and though Kuri and Siegwulf have assured me that I have their support, just as they have mine, I feel as though death waits in my shadow.”

Valerian rolled his eyes now but smiled comfortingly as he turned to press his forehead against her temple. He spoke softy as he reassured her.

“My dear, deeply empathetic sister,” he whispered. “From everything you’ve told me, you have not befriended lambs. They are not fragile things, no matter how mortal they are. You have told me their story, and honestly, sister, they are of…legend. They are made of the same material as mythology. You have chosen correctly. You do not doubt them. You doubt yourself and…you need to nip that in the bud. We cannot afford doubt. Do you hear me?”

Violetta maintained a stoic expression a moment before crumbling. She didn’t shed tears. She wouldn’t waste the energy, but a dry sob shuddered through her. She wasn’t crying out of fear or sorrow. The emotion that swept over her was fueled by the realization that she was letting her brother down by wallowing in her own self-pity.

“You’re right,” she admitted while turning to press her forehead to his.

“Of course, I am. I am older.”

“By less than five minutes,” she replied dryly.

“Now. I am going to find him. I need time, but I will locate his hidey hole. Give me a week or two? Then, perhaps, you can bring the two you hope to help you?”

Violetta hesitated slightly but ultimately nodded. Rather than baring more of her concern, she relaxed back against the mountain of pillows and sighed.

“I will bring you something to eat,” she added after a moment.

Valerian nodded his approval and settled as well. He broke his silence with something a fair bit less touching.

“How is Holly, by the way?”

Master Post || Prompt Source || Challenge Carrd

#FFxivWrite 2022 #FFxivWrite #Violetta

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the-dragons-knight · 2 years

Text

FFXIV Write 2022

Prompt #14 - The Bet

Attrition - ‘win a war(or bet or argument etc.) by wearing down the enemy’

——————————

Katsum made a mental note to never make a bet like this again.

She and Aymeric had been joking around last night before bed in the cheesiest and mushiest of ways a couple could, trading compliments back and forth and showering each other in love and affection. Yet when Aymeric had challenged that she was the one who showered him with more affection than he did her, she had made it official.

“We will see who can last the longest tomorrow without a kiss from the other. Whoever wins can tease the other for the rest of the evening. What say you to that?”

Aymeric had grinned at her and moved to lean over her, caging her in with his arms as he stared down into her eyes with a smoldering gaze, “Deal. But you should know, my dear wife…I will be merciless,” His breath tickled her nose and her ears flicked back as she pressed herself lower into the mattress as he moved closer, “That prize is just too sweet to resist.”

Katsum blushed, trying to grin through the nervous excitement she felt to push back, sitting up on her arms to press her forehead against his, “As will I.”

Though that was more a bluff than a promise. He’d grinned wider and at the time, she figured she knew what she was in store for.

She didn’t.

He had indeed been ruthless.

When she woke this morning, he was waiting for her, leaning over her just a breath away.

“Good morning, my love~,” He cooed softly, leaning just slightly closer, inviting her to press her lips against his. She’d almost forgotten, leaning forward with a smile to take it, yet she’d stopped just an inch away and played it off like that was her plan.

“Nice try, dear Aymeric,” She’d hummed as she pushed him away, trying her best to hide the fact that she had almost lost immediately.

“Worry not,” He’d replied as he’d freed himself from the covers, “‘Twas only the beginning.”

And it really had been.

Normally as they both left the house in the morning, he would pull her in for a kiss goodbye. He did the same movement this morning only he stopped to press his nose to hers and whispered, “I pray you have a good day, my sweet, and I hope to see you whenever you catch a free moment.”

She’d blushed at first, yet in retaliation, she’d against pushed back as she’d laid her hand on his chest, gently sliding it down just enough that she knew he would feel it through the layers of his regalia. She watched the slight change in his eyes as they darkened a little and she smiled back, “I’ll come by and spend lunch with you. We will have plenty of time to play our game then.”

He’d hummed in response, “I look forward to it.” He’d turned to leave then, waving her goodbye, and as she’d closed the door behind him, Katsum had to lean against it for a moment to calm herself.

Heavens, why was he always so tempting!?

When she’d come to the Congregation at noon, he’d smiled as she’d walked into his office with the tray of tea and their lunches. He’d taken her hand after she set the tray down, pulling it almost against his lips but stopping just before they touched her skin, looking up at her with the same smoldering eyes he had given her that morning. It sent a shiver down her spine and she cleared her throat and gently pulled her hand away, finding his desk to be very interesting to look at just then.

“Are you alright, my dear Kat?” He’d purred, watching her fight to keep her eyes from his. She’d heard the amusement in his voice clear as day.

“Of course, why do you ask?” She’d smiled as she’d laid out his lunch for him once he’d moved his papers aside, lifting the tea kettle to pour some into his cup.

“Because it appears your tail fur is standing on end.”

She had very nearly dropped the kettle, glancing back to see that her tail was indeed betraying her, the fur puffing out to nearly twice its size. Her embarrassment was very clear and she knew Aymeric had to be holding back a laugh. She tried to hide her tail a bit as she poured his tea and stepped around his chair to pour hers.

“Are you sure you are feeling, alright, dear?” He had asked again with an amused tone to his voice, “Your face does look rather red.”

It had only clicked then how to respond as she’d set down the kettle and moved to press against him from behind, wrapping her arms around his neck where she knew he couldn’t retaliate and whispered next to his ear, “Can you blame me, love? You are always so enticing it’s hard not to get flustered when you’re around.” She blew a little on the back of his ear and watched his grip on his fork tighten. He too had blushed this time yet he’d still glanced over his shoulder at her and grinned back despite the flush on his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

After that, lunch had passed by quickly, and she’d left him with another exchange of temptations, but neither of them had broken just yet. Now it was close to evening and with the help of the faithful servant of House Borel, she’d set a nice candlelit dinner for the two of them, hoping to find a way to break his resolve before the end of it. Though that had been a few hours ago that she’d had that thought.

She had been waiting quite a while now, glancing up at the clock. Usually, he was home by now and while dinner hadn’t grown cold, it would be before long. An anxious feeling set in; what could he be up to? Her mind raced at the thoughts that came to mind, going from innocent heartfelt gifts to something a bit more..tempting. He wouldn’t get the idea to change his clothes into something like that to walk home in the cold though…would he? The thought was rather scandalous she realized and blushed. It was her husband she was thinking about, so it was alright to let her mind wander though it certainly did not save her from the ever-darkening flush on her cheeks to let it do so.

Suddenly, her ears perked at the sound of the front door opening and of footsteps of someone coming in out of the cold, “I’m home. I’m sorry I ran behind.”

Something about Aymeric’s voice sounded off so she stood quickly and headed towards the hall, hoping he wasn’t fooling her into a false sense of comfort. As she turned out of the dining room door and caught his gaze down the hall, she knew he wasn’t.

His eyes were tired, his posture showing his exhaustion. Whatever had happened after lunch had taken its toll on him she guessed. She sighed and smiled sadly at him, moving to meet him there. He smiled tiredly at her as she moved up to him, reaching out to cup her face and move in…

…And stop as he remembered. His eyes widened as hers did, the thought clicking for both at the same time.

“Ah, right…the challenge,” He sighed, nearly letting go before he shook his head, “I will take the loss. It has been a very long day and I really wish to kiss you.”

He drew her in yet before he could initialize the kiss, she pressed forward and kissed him first. She could tell he was surprised but didn’t let it stop him from kissing her, gently holding her cheek as he sighed in relief. She pulled away for a breath and whispered against his lips, “How about we call it a draw instead?”

He blinked, but smiled and nodded, “As long as I get to kiss you again.”

“Of course, you may,” She pecked his lips again, moving closer and pressing against him, “And the rest of the evening is ours to spend together.”

“Yes…at last,” He kissed her again, pulling her into a deeper kiss than before so that she wrapped her arms around his neck.

#ffxiv #katsum almor #aymeric de borel #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv writing #warrior of light #ffxiv writing challenge #aymeric x katsum #aymeric x wol #wol/aymeric de borel #aymeric de borel x wol #aymeric de borel x katsum almor #final fantasy xiv oc #<3 #otp #ffxivwrite 2022 #wol/npc

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furys-mercy · 2 years

Text

- | Tepid | -

Word Count: 552 Characters: Sebastian de Vairemont, Marcette de Lamoreaux Mentioned: Lazne Urit

______________________________________________________________

tep·id /ˈtepəd/ adjective (especially of a liquid) only slightly warm; lukewarm.

______________________________________________________________ Marcette de Lamoreaux had once thought that she hated nothing more than lukewarm tea. But that was until she met her younger brother. From the moment he was placed, wriggling and wailing, into her arms, he had been challenging. At this very bell, he sat in that hideous wingback chair of his, looking down on her as if he were a king holding court.

“How is it that you have yet to fire your cook?” She returned her cup to the nearby tray, allowing it to clink loudly against the silver. “She serves you nothing but over-steeped swill.”

Sebastian’s smirk still reminded her of their mother. “Please, do accept my humblest apologies. Had I known you intended to call, I would have been more prepared. As it is, however, Mrs. Skinner is not in, and my poor footman is not well versed in the brewing of tea.”

Marcette visibly paled. Her cheeks took on an odd green tinge. “A footman?!” This was one of the many reasons she so rarely spared him time for a visit. He made a repeated mockery of their shared name.

That stupid smirk of his only grew. “My dear Marcette, you look unwell. Please do not let me keep you overlong. You look as if you need the warmth of your bed.”

“Do not worry, I have no intention of overstaying my welcome. This is not, after all, a social call.” She had never had the stomach for the games he liked to play. It was sacrifice enough for her to be seen speaking with him, there was no room left for petty niceties.

“If that is how you wish to play it, dearest sister. Do tell me, what is it that brings you out this evening? How may I be of assistance?”

The way his eyes sparkled with mischief combined with the joy he felt in taunting her tipped Marcette over the edge. “You were seen!” The leather of gloves creaked as she gripped at the arm of the settee.

“Doing what?” He was not going to give her anything for free.

“I have been kind enough to ignore your flagrant dalliances for this long, Sebastian, but this. She is…” Where her cheeks were once green, they were now stained a bright crimson. “I do not… how could you… a… miqo’te! If you must consort with common whores, have the decency to be discreet!”

The Bastard of Vairemont leaned in towards his sister, teeth bared in a mocking sneer. “Are there not more pressing issues of discretion for you tend to?”

“This is pressing! It is one thing for Aveline de Heroux to leave your apartments unaccompanied and clearly tussled, but this… I will not stand for it!” The red of her cheeks now stretched the length of her slender, pointed ears. “Dacien will not stand for it!”

“If you insist on bothering the Lord Vairemont with such trivial matters, I certainly cannot stop you, but…” He took a sip of his own, over-steeped tea. “I am quite certain he will find your affair with Ser Ilneux to be equally fascinating. Don’t you agree?”

The impact of his words left her sitting there, gaping at him in shock. “How… where… where did you hear that?”

Sebastian grinned at her overtop his teacup. “Aveline de Heroux.”

#FFxivWrite2022 #ffxivwrite 2022 #ffxivwrite #ffxiv #ffxiv rp #sebastian de vairemont #ic fiction

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blackestnight · 2 years

Text

6: he taketh it with his eyes

Prompt: Onerous

Word count: 960

Erenville probably doesn’t get paid enough for this shit.

Hanami glowered at the stack of envelopes in her hand as she wove across Saint Valeroyant’s Forum; whoever had decided that Ishgardian needed a calligraphic cursive script deserved to rot in the deepest hell Eorzea had to offer. At least the C’s and S’s looked different enough that she didn’t have too much trouble sorting the mail into smaller stacks, Lord Commander and Lord Speaker. Aymeric made no secret of preferring his office in the Congregation to the one in the Vault, partially because it meant self-important lords had to try and bully their ways past Handeloup and Lucia—when she was back on her infrequent leave from Ilsabard—but the more inventive ones had just started sending mail to the Manor instead.

She wasn’t sure what they thought that would accomplish, but Margelyne never wanted for kindling for the stove.

These actually needed to get to his office, though, and Hanami had volunteered to play courier for lack of anything else to do with her day. She finished shuffling the military mail to the top of the stack as she wove through the sparse foot traffic, giving an absent nod to the Proving Grounds’ door guard when she waved and glancing up toward the Clan Centurio board as she passed, although she couldn’t see if anything new had been posted past the Viera man in a puffy coat standing in front of it. She waved at Firmalbert as he saluted h—

Hanami stopped, blinked, and spun on her heel.

“Erenville?” she said.

She was right: that was the gleaners’ uniform, and the man’s towering ears swiveled in response to her voice. He looked around for a second—and wasn’t that something, that there was at least one person to whom she didn’t stick out like a sore thumb amongst the Ishgardian citizenry—but when he did manage to spot her he shut the journal balanced in his hand and raised a hand in greeting.

“Hanami,” he said, and gave a nod to the Centurio hunter stationed by the board. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” she said, dumbfounded. Then: “What are you doing here?”

He blinked at her, and held up the journal—probably field notes, she realized. “Working through my acquisitions list.”

Right.

“What did they send you here for?” she asked. She picked her way closer so she wouldn’t have to raise her voice as much, always with half an eye on the pavement—between the Congregation and the Forgotten Knight, more often than not there were overhanging icicles that melted and re-froze into black ice. Over his shoulder she could just barely see the Centurio hunter’s jaw drop before she remembered herself, which was fair; Hanami was never much of a conversationalist. But she liked Erenville: he was smart without being stuffy, and refreshingly petty. She could appreciate anyone who would give over-important bureaucrats a dressing-down.

“Initially, only to return the hippocerf I had brought to Labyrinthos,” he said, and for a moment Hanami envisioned Erenville stepping off the boat in Limsa Lominsa with a trussed-up hippocerf flung over his shoulder. “But it would seem a Worldly Affairs official mentioned to a professor of the Studium that I was bound for Coerthas, and now…” He shrugged. “At least we are not as rushed as we were before the exodus, but the requests are as absurd as ever.”

Hanami could only imagine. She avoided the hunt counter in Sharlayan for a reason. “What are you after?”

He frowned, this time in the general direction of the Clan Centurio hunt board. “Behemoth horn fragments. I believe a professor of alchemy had some use for them.”

“So, what, are you posting a hunt bill?” At least with his backpack out of the way Hanami could see the board, although there didn’t seem to be any interesting marks.

“Of course not.” Erenville wrinkled his nose and gave her a flat look like the one he had used to cow that Forum member. “I have no interest in killing one; it would be a waste. Behemoths break off fragments of their horns when they sharpen them on rocks in their dens. Normally it is easy enough to gather them.”

Normally. Hanami raised an eyebrow and wondered how often he had snuck into Behemoth dens to warrant a normally. “But?”

“The local den currently has a clutch of young. Behemoths are territorial at their best,” he said. “And I would not consider a brooding Behemoth the best. The odds of her leaving to hunt are slim.”

Hanami grimaced; she’d heard somewhere that some of the highborn had decided the new must-have exotic pet were baby Behemoths, which could only end in disaster, but then what else was new. She still remembered the crocodile in Skyfire Locks. With all the enterprising idiots trying to steal the young out from under their mothers’ snouts she really didn’t like his odds either. “Do you have your…ah, your thing?” She mimed blowing through a hole in her fingers. “Your gun. To put it to sleep.”

Erenville shook his head. “Are you familiar with the phrase ‘enough to fell a Behemoth?’ I believe it is used in reference to drinking excess amounts of liquor.”

“No,” she admitted.

“Well, there is no amount of sedative that will drug a Behemoth,” he said. Then, after a moment, he crossed his arms and corrected himself: “No amount that one could legally obtain, anyway. I will have to wait for it to fall asleep on its own and try my luck.”

And to think, people accused adventurers of being batshit. Sneaking past a sleeping Behemoth was the sort of thing even the idiots in Revenant’s Toll only joked about.

Then again, it wasn’t like she had anything else interesting to do.

“Do you want help?”

#ffxivwrite 2022 #final fantasy xiv #erenville #oc: hanami hagane #someday i will continue this as they have a very amusing misadventure #hanami admires one (1) sharlayan and it's erenville #we stan a working class hero #writing - mine

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