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ancientechos · 4 years

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Shopping Trip!

For @whitherliliesbloom, based on their headcanons on an Illyanaud/Laurchefant double date!

Alphinaud/Illya + Haurchefant/Laurelis ♡ 2109 words ♡ some kinda modern au

This is supposed to be a so-called “double date”, but as far as Alphinaud is concerned, it is merely a regular one. Between Laurelis and Illya.

Haurchefant and Alphinaud simply happen to be there at the same time. Or at the very least in their general vicinity.

The taller elezen doesn’t appear especially bothered by this; he bears his burden of an already concerning amount of bags with unprecedented grace and decorum.

“They look like they’re having fun,” he says with an easy smile once he notices the white-haired elezen glancing toward him. Alphinaud clears his throat.

“I -- yes, I...suppose that is one of the words...that could describe them.”

Laurelis stands in the middle of one of the clothing stores, a veritable pile of dresses thrown over the nearest rack, clearly selected for the lalafellin girl fidgeting demurely in front of her. She holds her most recent pick -- a pale turquoise ruffled dress -- in both hands, holding it out near the shorter girl’s shoulders.

Whilst Illya looks only somewhat uncomfortable with her predicament, the miqo’te has a somewhat pinched, pensive expression as she stares at younger girl and garment with narrowed eyes. Then, abruptly and apparently satisfied, she gives a tiny nod and gently folds the dress before placing it on the ground beside her.

“Don’t I need to try that on first...?”

“Nope! I know you’ll look adorable without even putting it on!” Laurelis’ smile is bright and infectious; even Illya can’t help but let her lips upturn despite her misgivings. “But this...” The pink-haired woman’s voice trails off as she pulls yet another dress from the small pile she’s amassed. “I’m afraid you will have to try this one on.”

She holds it up to Illya briefly, before allowing the lalafell to take the dress from her. It’s a light, checkered thing; Alphinaud can’t make it out clearly from this distance, but it seems to have something frilly or lacy at the front.

After a mild “argument” (”Are you sure this isn’t too much?” “Nonsense! There’s never too many cute clothes!”), the lalafell retreats to the dressing room, defeated, dress in hand.

Perhaps it’s understandable that she should feel anxious. The vast majority of the bags Haurchefant holds contain clothes and shoes...for Illya, after all.

This scene had been repeated numerous times in other stores, with but one exception that had occurred exactly once and then never again, though the memory still causes the hair at the back of Alphinaud’s neck to spike in unease.

Illya had hesitantly peered out of the dressing room, violet eyes glimmering with discontent; she only finally pulled herself out with effusive and exuberant encouragement from her best friend. The sight that greeted the pale-haired elezen had nearly stolen his breath away: the dress Laurelis had chosen for her was the perfect colour and cut, brilliantly highlighting her features and, at the same time, making her look somehow even more lovely than she had mere minutes ago.

His silence had not gone unnoticed. Whilst Haurchefant had quickly offered his own praise, Alphinaud had merely been struck speechless and tongue-tied, as if somehow turned to stone. And the miqo’te had wheeled toward him, eyes narrowed, fluffy tail twitching only once.

“What do you think, Alphinaud? Doesn’t she look beautiful?”

Alphinaud had thought he could catch a hint of an uncharacteristic sharpness in her gaze -- a subtle glare that looked utterly unnerving on the miqo’te. He had cleared his throat, finding the words he needed to curtail his execution rapidly surfacing despite his initial floundering.

“O-of course. She looks beautiful -- absolutely stunning.” He most certainly did not stutter.

The pink-haired woman’s expression had transformed into a beam that could very well rival the sun. “Fantastic! I knew you’d like it.” Giving a tiny, gleeful clap, she had levied Illya with yet another dress, and the bone-chilling moment had passed as if nothing untoward had ever happened.

Alphinaud still occasionally feels somewhat cold, for no discernible reason.

As Laurelis fawns over the assortment of clothes she’s uncovered for Illya to wear and try on, Alphinaud finds his mind wandering. If this is a shopping trip -- and so it appears, as opposed to an actual date -- he may as well do some shopping on his own.

It appears Illya is well and covered in the clothing department, so he supposes there’s room for him to buy something else...

Like, he thinks, as his gaze roves over a nearby store, jewelry.

Illya, being quite modest, doesn’t often afford herself the luxury of pretty trinkets. Almost never, really, and certainly really nothing expensive.

Well, expensive for her. To him, and to apparently the pink-haired miqo’te, it may as well be a drop in the ocean.

The black, lacquered sign gleams at him under the skylights as he approaches. Genuine crystal bouquets. Perhaps not quite jewelry, as he’d initially assumed, but some sort of trinket nonetheless. And certainly nothing Illya would look even twice at.

She does love flowers, however. What ever would be better than an undying, beautifully cut, and vibrant bouquet? Far more than a simple collection of fake flowers...

Or so that’s what he thinks as he peers into the small shop. Behind locked cabinets and displays of glass are numerous attentively arranged crystalline flowers. Some are simply made of nondescript crystal; others, more ostentatiously priced, are labelled to be carved of gemstone.

He’s drawn almost immediately toward a composition of lilies, sparkling in the light. The price on the card beside them would undoubtedly make his girlfriend faint.

“Looking to buy, sir?” The elderly gentleman behind the counter hones in on him almost immediately, attracted by the crispness of his shirt and the stitching of his tailored coat. Evidently the man can smell the bottomless cards stowed away in his pockets.

“Yes, I -- I was wondering, might I have a look at that lily bouquet up there?” Alphinaud gives a nod toward the glass shelves behind the counter. The shopkeep pulls out an assortment of keys from his pocket and begins fiddling with the locks.

“I feel like I shouldn’t even be here.” The light, airy comment nearly startles the long-haired young man out of his skin; he turns slightly to see his other companion, Haurchefant, joining him, bags in either hand. “Are you getting that for Illya?” He leans forward slightly as the older man brings the delicate bouquet down before them, allowing them both to look at it.

“Yes. I think it’s very beautiful. It suits her, don’t you think?” Alphinaud gently brushes a finger along one crystalline petal. It would look quite pretty on her nightstand -- perhaps away from any windows, lest anyone less savoury see it.

“It is very pretty -- ” Haurchefant breaks himself off as the shopkeep reminds his friend of the price. “But are you sure she’ll like it? It is rather expensive, after all...wouldn’t she be worried?”

Though Alphinaud does not think it to be that much of a money sink...he can attest that his love would probably be rather critical of the cost involved. Pursing his lips slightly, he looks away from the diamond lilies. “I suppose you are correct...”

He looks instead toward a series of delicately cut roses, pale and translucent. The price for these is substantially less.

“What about these ones...?”

When he walks out of the store a few minutes later, box neatly wrapped and tied and deposited into a white nondescript bag, he feels quite pleased with himself. Haurchefant had kept up his attempts to dissuade him, though to no avail; this bouquet was, after all, far less expensive than the other alternative. And roses are very romantic. Not to mention these particular flowers are eternal.

Illya might gripe about it, but she shouldn’t be displeased, he thinks.

The girls -- or Laurelis, rather -- have already finished making their new purchases by the time they return to the clothing store, the miqo’te excitedly chattering to her friend about the fine points of matching colours and accents.

________

The restaurant is filled with the sound of soft music and the laughter of children and the other patrons. Their shopping has been deposited in the trunk of Haurchefant’s car -- box of crystal roses included, which Illya miraculously did not notice.

Or perhaps chose not to bring up in front of their friends.

“What are you getting, Illya?” Laurelis asks with a mild quirk of her lips as she flips through her menu. Her expression is furrowed slightly in characteristic indecision, before it lightens. “I think I’m getting one of the burgers...”

“Um...” Illya trails off a moment as she finishes coming to her own decision. “The piping hot chicken wings, I think...”

“Ah -- I-I see...what about you, Haurchefant, Alphinaud?”

Alphinaud shuts his menu before he responds. “I’ll probably just get a coffee and a salad.” He’s typically not too hungry by lunchtime -- even with the walking they’d been doing earlier.

“I’ll likely be getting one of the burgers myself,” comes Haurchefant’s reply, closing his own menu.

It doesn’t take too long for their orders to finally arrive, or perhaps it only feels that way with the light, jovial chatter. Laurelis’ fashion classes are going well, as are Haurchefant’s English courses, and Illya’s shop is of course proceeding swimmingly. The conversation ceases for only a moment as the pink-haired woman fishes out her cellphone.

“I have to take pictures!” she announces. “If -- well, if that’s okay with everyone, at least.” Somehow, she always manages to make the food look even more appetising than it already is in her snapshots.

The wings on Illya’s plate are steaming, the scent of spice nearly overpowering the smell of Laurelis and Haurchefant’s burgers across the table. Alphinaud eyes the lalafell’s meal warily, keeping to his plain and boring salad.

“Oh, may I try one, Illya? They look quite good.” Haurchefant asks. Laurelis’ head nearly whips clean off her shoulders as she looks up to stare at him in what can only be described as abject pity, mouth agape.

“O-of course,” Illya murmurs, gently pushing her plate forward. The silver-haired man reaches to pluck one of the wings off her plate, lifting it to his mouth. He’s hardly even licked it when his eyebrows furrow slightly in consternation.

The brave man does, in fact, manage to take a bite -- and perhaps, it seems, even swallow it, though Alphinaud feels rather too terrified to actually get a good look at his facial expression.

“Well -- that was -- very good...I, ah -- excuse me...”

Laurelis politely slides out of the booth to allow the taller elezen to shift past her, and Alphinaud continues to wonder how he simply doesn’t sprint to the nearest washroom.

“I-is Haurchefant all right...?” Illya asks with wide, violet eyes. Her best friend gives a faint laugh, waving a hand gently.

“Oh, he’ll be fine! I-I think I felt his phone vibrating in his pocket, he m-must have gotten a call or something!”

“I hope it wasn’t anything serious...”

Their final group member returns a few minutes later, though he does not ask to partake in Illya’s dish again, and assures them that everything had gone well with his call.

________

Alphinaud feels a little bad for Haurchefant driving him home, but the older elezen had insisted.

“There’s nothing wrong with friends dropping friends off, is there? You don’t need to take your fancy driver everywhere.”

And Laurelis doesn’t even use a driver despite it well being within her means to. For some ungodly reason, she prefers to walk.

“I can take you home, Illya, if you don’t mind,” Alphinaud says before he steps out of the car. “I have something I’d like to talk to you about, too.”

The lalafellin girl looks a little confused as she blinks up at him. “Talk...?”

“Yes! So -- we can take your shopping to my apartment, right?”

“Oh, sure!” Laurelis wheedles her way into the conversation. “I can help you carry everything up! There’s...a lot, ahah...”

“I’ll help, too.” Haurchefant’s smile is easy and light. “I think you’ll need it.”

Alphinaud staunchly pretends he has not an inkling of what the older man could possibly be talking about, the crystal bouquet weighing heavier than any mountain of shoes possibly could. He only hopes she’ll like them.

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #alphinaud x wol #alphinaud leveilleur #haurchefant x wol #illya skawi #haurchefant x laurelis #haurchefant greystone #laurelis thyme #laurelis #illya #haurchefant #alphinaud #w: on our honour #fanfic #mine #other verses #modern au #my writing

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finalfantasyxivwritings · 4 years

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Old Traditions

AO3 Version

Relationship: WoL(Illya Skawi)/Alphinaud

Rating: PG

Summary: Alphinaud is spending a few days in Ishgard, and learns about an old, peculiar tradition he can’t help but be curious about.

Note: This is a (super late) prize for @whitherliliesbloom for winning the Wondrous Tails 2019 event--at first this was supposed to be something simple and sweet for her character Illya and Alphinaud (whom are adorable together), but one thing lead to another and now I have another fic to add to the ‘lockets as engagement rings in Ishgard’ headcanon because apparently I love it too much.

When Alphinaud makes the purchase, it was not fueled by plan nor far-reaching intentions. It had simply been something in just the right spot in the window to catch his eye, and furthermore something beautiful enough he thought it better suited someone else--someone whom he cared about deeply.

Suffice to say even as he held the locket in his hand and reached out to show the shopkeeper the item he had intended to purchase, it was with no greater meaning than that of a rather fanciful gift spurred only by impulse. He could already hear Tataru’s sharp chastising the moment she’d find out and realize how much he so flippantly spent on it--but it was of his own earnings, and the recipient of his own choosing.

It was beautiful, all things considered. A locket of silver, decorated with various details of twisting vines and flowers blooming around a setting of amethyst or somesuch gemstone. It glittered so vibrantly even in the dull sunlight of an overcast day in Ishgard that Alphinaud could hardly take his eyes off of it once discovered.

Though it did not compare to the beauty he oft beheld within her eyes, Alphinaud could think of only one woman who deserved such a gift. Neither could be bring himself to think about how it pleased him to think of her wearing it--something of his own effort upon her, a symbol of affection and dedication to bringing a smile onto her lips like how she brought a smile to so many others around her.

Perhaps it was from this silly, romantic notion that had left an impression upon the elder, wizened elezen woman who sold it to him. As gil exchanged hands and Alphinaud had the locket safely tucked into a small, plain-looking wooden case, he couldn’t help but notice the look in her eyes.

“Is there something the matter?” He found himself asking. “Did I not give you enough gil?”

“Oh no, there’s nothing wrong,” she said, waving a hand as if to fend off his mounting worry. “It’s not everyday a young man like yourself has his heart so set upon someone he loves.”

Between the words themselves and the tone suffused within them, Alphinaud cannot help the heat that blooms over his cheeks. He clears his throat and allows his eyes to fall downwards.

"I-...I'm afraid I don't quite understand what you mean."

He doesn't know quite why he feels embarrassed when he hardly knew the woman, nor would likely never see her again once the purchase was complete--he's not set to remain in Ishgard for more than a few suns before meeting with several Scions back in the heart of Eorzea proper. Still, Alphinaud found his gaze falling towards the trinket in his hand, heat blooming like sweet spring lilies over his cheeks.

“You are not from Ishgard then?” the shopkeep asks.

Alphinaud shakes his head, and the warm look falls ever so slightly from the woman’s expression.

“Ah, well then pay my silliness little thought. ‘Tis only something of a tradition, though most young folk nowadays don’t seem to pay it much mind.”

She hums to herself and turns away, as if to return to what she’d been doing mere minutes before.

For as easy as it could have been to simply let the topic be and scurry away with his purchase, Alphinaud's sense of curiosity vastly outweighed his sense of embarrassment. He purses his lips and clears his throat in a vaguely subtle attempt to show he was still standing there, and only then does the woman turn back around to look at him with one arched brow.

"I...don't mean to intrude further upon your time," Alphinaud says lightly. "but I find myself curious to this old tradition, if you would care to explain it."

The woman stares at him for a few moments, with the silence only broken by distant sounds of construction from direction of the firmament. Sounds of rebuilding and hope only made possible by the efforts of the same woman Alphinaud was purchasing the locket for.

Through the years of life experience seemingly etched in lines and wrinkles upon her face, a glimmer of warm amusement filled her eyes. She smiles, then steps closer to the counter, so that she could perch her elbows upon the old wood and her chin upon the heel of a palm.

"When I was but a girl, many years ago mind you, it was commonplace that a suitor would gift a locket to one they were courting."

"Courting?"

"Yes," the woman nods. "Once it was a gift of engagement. Far before my time, the lockets would be made by hand of the suitor or their family--but you can imagine for many it was easier to simply commission or purchase from a craftsman."

Alphinaud's brow furrows. He understands the words perfectly well, but it takes him a few moments for the context to sink in--why she had eyed him with such gentle amusement as he purchased the locket in the first place. He looks down to the small box in his hand, and then back up, realization at last dawning on him.

For some reason, his cheeks are burning ever hotter than before, and words that should have seemed obvious in answer yet tumble awkwardly over his lips.

"Ah, I see. An engagement of...marriage, I presume?"

The woman, whether amused by Alphinaud’s embarrassment or simply happy in his genuine interest, smiles just a little brighter.

"Of course. When my mother ran this very shop, there were young men of even the highest houses who would spend hours looking at her work to find the most suiting locket for their soon-to-be betrothed. And even before that, both my mother and grandmother were oft commissioned for their craft--such beautiful works of art made for one couple’s promise of lifelong union.”

Wizened by years of life, the woman’s soft eyes fall upon the collection of jewelry across the counter before her. And then, after a moment more, a sigh slowly escapes her lips. Alphinaud watches as soft disappointment fills where warmth had been in her eyes.

"...There is meaning to each of these pieces, you know."

As she gazes over the work before her, Alphinaud can’t help himself but to speak, as if the words take life into themselves and fall from his tongue all the same.

“And what of this one?”

Though the motion is a little jarring and it takes him several moments to do so, he opens the small box in his hand for emphasis, to reveal the glittering locket within. As he does, the shopkeeper looks at him, and the smile returns—perhaps with just a touch more mischief than before, though the young Scion is hardly able to keep his mind away from how the sentiment connects to his own feelings for the warrior he is set to gift the locket to mere days from now.

“You certainly have an eye for gems. The amethyst, set in the center and surrounded by a wreath of flowers-“ she reaches out and gently taps a gloved finger to the center of the locket. “-the one you love must be the sort who oft takes on the suffering of others as her own burden. She forges a path of goodwill, and the flowers that flourish within that path are the lives she touches with her kindness.”

As she leans back, Alphinaud can’t help but feel a little awed.

“...and how can you say all that if you don’t know her?”

Within the woman’s eyes, a glimmer of something soft. In her lips, a wry smile, one that makes her look many years before, gazing down at a young man seeking to promise his heart to the person he cares most for.

“I don’t have to know them, young sir,” she says simply. “You were the one who picked that locket from all the rest of them. And given your surprise at its meaning, it would seem your heart chose perfectly.”

Even in the sharp, cold wind of Ishgard, Alphinaud feels a genuine warmth deep within his chest, one that grows with the reminder that he would be seeing that person soon, the one for whom his heart sang. The one who truly deserved the work of art clutched within his palm, and the deep tradition behind it.

“I thank you for taking the time to explain it to me; I will properly treasure this locket, and I know the one I’m to give it to will love it all the same.”

A gentle laugh escapes from the old woman, and she reaches a hand up to gently cover her mouth.

“And might you indulge me with the name of this one so dear to you?”

Alphinaud opens his mouth to speak, but at first not a single word comes out.

So many ways to describe her; the warrior of light, the hope of Eorzea, the savior of Ishgard, Ala Mhigo and Doma alike. The one whose smile makes everyone feel at ease, the one who makes everyone feel safe—the one who, whenever she laughs, makes Alphinaud’s heart race and his thoughts hard to place.

“Her name,” he finally says, closing the locket box and gently tucking it into a pocket, and meeting the woman’s eyes. “-is Illya.”

#writing #wondrous tails prize #wondrous tails of ffxiv #its taken me 23432 years to get my ass back into writing #sfw #drabble #illya skawi #illya #alphinaud x illya #oc fic #at first this was gonna be part of the ffxivwrite2020 thing #but the idea i had for this was so specific it didn't work out tbh #if alphinaud wasn't thinking about proposing before he sure is now....#;3c

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steelclackers · 4 years

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Commission for @whitherliliesbloom ! Illya and Alphinaud ♥

#ffxiv #alphinaud leveilleur #illya skawi

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whitherliliesbloom · 2 months

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#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #illya skawi #lalafell #gpose #mine

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heirsofdiscord · 7 months

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Menphina

FFXIVwrite prompt #18: A Fish Out of Water | 2000 words A person in unfamiliar and often uncomfortable surroundings

Garlemald was still fucking cold. Yorick’s Lalafellan ancestors had come from islands known for their scorching heat and humidity. Yorick couldn’t stand warm temperatures though. He much preferred it when there was a chill in the air and he could wear a half dozen sweaters or curl up in a cozy place for a nap. Chalk that up to his Keeper blood. Still, if one discounted his probable Seeker grandfather and Yorick always did, his people were from jungles and forests. The cold in Garlemald wasn’t like it was in Eorzea. Few things were supposed to be able to live here and the things that did were unusually cruel and bitter. Nothing soft was allowed to grow.

Unless you were a particular conjurer whose magic had a predilection toward flowers like the hollow eyed medicus that sat in the train car with him. Laury Kir Nivalis was a man of few words unless they were pointed. Or unless you were another flower aspected mage or young enough to warrant kindness like the ever lovely Illya Skawi who was both. Yorick was neither and didn’t even get a glance from the man who seemed to be intent on being the most miserable he could be on his break.

He wasn’t a pure-blooded Garlean. His citizenship was earned through twenty years of hard conscripted work and then he’d just rejoined the army. Yorick didn’t ask why. Garlemald talked big about citizenship and whatever but it was unlikely they actually treated their new citizens with anything but patronizing approval at best. What was a mage going to do with his healing magic when Garleans were apt to start shrieking the minute they saw he didn’t have a third eye. Laury didn’t have anywhere else to go but the army and only fools who couldn’t let go of hope would be unwise enough to think otherwise. Yorick wasn’t that either. He supposed the medicus had every right to be as sullen and hostile as he damn well pleased.

Yorick had earned his own break. Or at least he supposed so. They were off talking to Garlean citizens and doing diplomatic things which wasn’t Yorick’s strong point. He was smart enough to realize the situation before some of his group at times but he had a particularly bad habit of chiming in at the wrong moment with the very worst thing to say. Partly because he had trouble paying attention to any conversation that didn’t interest him and very few words had any sway with him anymore. So no one was going to complain if he sat in a car for the rest of their tangent in Garlemald.

He was intent on getting his hat off. It was warm and he needed that warmth but it was also very stifling and he’d take the chance to let his feline ears move while they were near a heater. That also meant he had to very carefully dislodge the one that had the earring attached to it in case it got caught on the fabric. It had happened once or twice and he wasn’t keen on repeating the event. He peeled the dark fabric away and the gentle clatter of blue crystal against silver sounded as the dangling bits were free.

“Careful those things to freeze to your ear,” Laury commented eyeing the glittering earring and it’s crescent moon. It was probably the medic in him and not any actual interest.

“No worries. This thing is like a ilm thick and my ears are fluffier and smaller than your average Miqo’te so I can stuff in extra padding.” Yorick grinned like he’d found a secret no one else knew.

Laury just stared at him with a look that every chirurgen had ever given him when he’d said he’d be fine; unimpressed, disappointed, a little annoyed.

Yorick shrugged and added “,small price to pay to show my devotion.”

“To the moon?”

“Kinda,” Yorick shrugged, flicking his fingers at the dangling bits of his earring “,I’m a Keeper of the Moon. We worship the goddess of the moon.”

The expression on Laury’s face shifted as his gaze drifted back to the ceiling. “I’m supposed to have one of those I guess. Savages and their gods or whatever it is the pure bloods are always ranting about. Not that I know their names or anything besides…”

His face twisted into one of old hurts and the grip on the staff he’d held loosely in his lap tightened. Yorick was wise enough not to ask about it.

“What’s so great about the moon anyway? Didn’t you have one drop on you guys almost a decade ago now?” Laury changed subjects.

“That was Dalamud,” Yorick corrected him. “My goddess Menphina’s loyal hound. And it also turned out to be an ancient allagan prison for a dragon primal. Also it was your people that dropped it on us.”

Laury looked like he might object but shrugged with accession in the end.

“She’s also not just the goddess of the moon but of ice and love,” Yorick added more intent on talking about her than various things that happened during the calamity. That was a no go topic for him.

“Love?” Laury eyed him with a derisive look “,you don’t look like the type to worship something for love.”

“Are you kidding me?” Yorick barked a short cruel laugh “,it’s unloveable bastards like me that need Menphina the most.”

“Is that why you follow her then? To be loved or?”

Yorick sighed deeply and dramatically. “Look, guy, I don’t know! I’m full of it actually. My mom and gran left Keeper traditions and Menphina behind. I don’t know how any of it is supposed to work. I’m a little fucked up. Wrong dude to ask. I just wanted - needed something.”

Yorick, Lalafell without his kin and Keeper without a clan. Even with his family he’d felt like a stranger. A free floating particle that had nowhere to land and no place to belong. He needed something to ground him. Something to make him feel wanted and known. But he was struggling in the dark, too embarrassed to ask any Keeper for help.

Glancing up Yorick found that Laury’s full attention was on him again. Or on his earring. He unhooked the earring from his ear and turned it around in his hand. Limited edition something or whatever. He always liked the idea of something being special to him but in the end they were all just baubles to him without any meaning no matter how hard he tried to append it there. Nothing had any meaning for him. Only people.

“A god is just a reflection of its people’s values I suppose,” Yorick said watching Laury’s face carefully “,Most the ones I’ve had to kill are from desperation. It’s a kind of hope. For salvation, for revenge, for love. A plea for anything to hold unto if even for a moment.”

Recognition, yearning, despair. Laury’s face was always a bit miserable but Yorick knew that feeling all to well. He sighed again and marched over to the man. “Gimme your hand.”

“What?”

“I said give. Me. your. Hand.” Yorick stated indignantly.

Laury stared at him hard but held one of his up as asked “A please wouldn’t kill you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yorick took the proferred limb and turned it around so he could place the earring in it. Curling Laury’s fingers around it and placing a hand over it to solidify the act of his giving. “Keep it.”

“What happened to showing your devotion?” Laury remarked.

“I can get a half dozen different things for that back home. Savages and our gods, right?” Yorick reminded him. “This is probably one of the only bits of Menphina you’ll find around here. I don’t know. Maybe that’s blasphemous but passing on a bit of something good seems right by her I think.”

Laury took the earring and turned it around in his gloved hand not unlike Yorick had a moment before. “I could get in trouble for having this, you know.”

“What are they going to do? Discharge you? Execution by firing squad? How many medics do you guys even have.” Yorick remarked, folding his arms over his chest. Garlemald was a little too hard up to be upholding their ideals of cultural cleansing.

Laury smiled, still staring at it. He had enough bitterness to drown what remind of Garlemald’s people but enough grace to not do it. Pettiness though? That appealed to him. “I’m a Medicus, not a medic.”

“Words. Who cares.”

Laury began to ask Yorick questions again. Suddenly a little more awake and less dead looking. “What is she like though? Besides that-”

Pain─

Yorick and his cohorts had met some of Eorzea’s pantheon of twelve. They had introduced themselves with a challenge but all malice quickly dissolved with their obvious joy for combat. And even more affection for their mortal combatants. They must have been immensely powerful to summon the great gauntlets they had. Realms with similarities to places Yorick knew but on a grand scale befitting the title of a god.

The lightning aspected gods had fought them on architecture much like that found in Gyr Abania where they worshiped Rhalgr, the destroyer. Nald’thal, twin god patrons of Ul’dah, were fought with Azeyma in a city that looked much like the desert capital. Though Yorick supposed some parts must be inspired by Ul’dah’s forgotten sister city Sil’dih where they worshiped Azeyma; the sun. Ever changing fields and forests like Yorick grew up with where they were met by the goddess of harvest; Nophica. Forests that would be pushed apart and floated by the god of space and time; Althyk where he fought alongside his sister Nymeia of fate. Then came strange tiled pathways of ice and crystalline spires while the ominous moon hung ever closer where they fought Halone, the fury.

In that icy castle, Yorick finally met his goddess. He’d seen her depicted as a buxom and flirtatious woman and found he was much gladdened to see she was not this. Romantic love was of course an important aspect of her worship but there were many facets of love that had nothing to do with romance. Menphina, above all was joyful and amiable. Merciful and understanding. Bright and loved even by her peers.

─Yorick wasn’t exactly sure why he was swimming around in his own memories. Usually when the echo popped off it was to glimpse into someone else’s heart. The fact these were his meant only one thing and that was he was resonating with someone who was swimming around in his. Even if it was a more harmless and joyful memory, Yorick wasn’t keen on that.

There was no one in this cart but Laury whom, now that he looked at him, clutching the Menphina earring dearly. Likely to protect it because at some point he’d fallen out of his seat and crumpled unto the floor. Now wasn’t that curious.

“Bear to me your lover’s heart,” Yorick repeated down at the man. Something Menphina had said to them as their fight had began.

Laury’s head whipped up to look at him. His face confused but the sort of confusion one gets when they recognize something they don’t understand yet. Yorick grinned, not caring enough whether he looked menacing or not. A second later he was bounding out of the train cart into the station proper yelling: “Illya! You’ll never guess what your flower pal just had!”

There was the faint sound of a softer voice questioning and then Yorick’s distant but not less obnoxiously loud voice yelling “,The echo! Your medic pal just had a vision!”

“What? What is that? What are you talking about?” Laury pried himself up, woozy from what he’d later know as aether sickness. He followed after, still tightly clutching the earring. A point of comfort he’d need later as he began to be increasingly pulled into things he simply was not prepared for.

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2023 #cwwrit #CH: Yorick Nelhah #CH:Laury Kir Nivalis #might be obscure how I got here from the prompt but like... I understand

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windup-dragoon · 4 years

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Ｕｎｔｉｌｗｅｍｅｅｔａｇａｉｎ

#|| And so it goes #Kirishimi Yasuragi #Isho #Az'hala #Illya skawi #Laurelis Thyme #Hien Rijin #ffxiv #gpose #mine #/shrugs #idk what this is #I watched train to busan last night and that song hit me #sorry my graphics and edits are bad LMAO ask me if I care :V #SOMEONE SAVE HER

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anomalilyxiv · 3 years

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Impostor Simping (Among Us / Amigops)

(Ft. @mintdrop & @whitherliliesbloom )

More below;

Ref/paraphrased from this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FYRvcOV91zU

#FFXIV #Chara: Peppermint #Chara: Nanami #Chara: Illya #Chara: Lily #Totomi Tomi #Nanami Nami #Illya Skawi #Lily PeachTea #Gpose #FFXIV Gposer #Lalafell #ref: amigops #Game: Among Us #Mine #Long post

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sweetsweetnathan · 3 years

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The Imperial Dialogues #4: A Report on the Witch of Doma

"To my friend Varis, Emperor of Garlemald,

I find it extremely unlikely that this letter will ever reach you. I write to you from the improbable location of another world called 'the First'. It is a place much like our own planet, but with a history even more deadly and tumultuous, if you can believe that.

The details of my arrival here are not important. I will tell you of my time in the First soon enough, but before that comes my reason for writing. I have been haunted by a memory for more than a year, and I would have it exorcised unto your judgment. Whether that be the judgment of an Emperor or the judgment of a man, that is not my choice to make. I have only to confess my sins.

You are likely familiar with the viceroy of Doma during the Garlean occupation of the same country: Yotsuyu goe Brutus. She was killed near the end of the occupation, after a Garlean diplomatic mission to Doma went seriously off the rails.

My intelligence tells me that Garlemald knows little of the circumstances behind the viceroy's death, except that she was killed by her brother Asahi. I write to tell you that is untrue. It is not a lie, simply a falsehood pieced together my misunderstanding the circumstances at hand. You see, no living Garlean was in the room at the time Yotsuyu was killed, and as such they can only guess as to what happened to her. But I can tell you exactly what happened.

The truth is, I killed Yotsuyu. And I would submit to you my full report on the matter of her death.

While I expect you know of Yotsuyu's position in your military, I do not expect you to know of her personhood. Did you know that she was a woman? Did you know that she hated her homeland, and took pleasure in seeing her people subjugated? And before you smirk and congratulate yourself for the profound cleverness it takes to expect such things: Did you know that she was sold into sexual slavery by her own family? Did you know that in the last day of her life, the only respite she found from her past a citizen of Doma was when she killed her parents and her brother?

And perhaps, Varis, you find yourself scoffing again. You, after all, have fought blood feuds with family members your whole life. And yet it is for that reason that Yotsuyu's story is remarkable to me. You see, blood feuds between siblings is generally a problem that only afflicts the ruling class of a nation. Whether it be by the divine right of royal inheritance, or the economic right to one's father's estate, only someone born into power need concern themselves with such consuming legacies as would have them kill their own brother.

That is all to say that Yotsuyu is one of the few people on this planet who can claim to stand in your mighty company, Varis, as brother killers.

But when vengeance ran its course through her body, it was not a royal inheritance or paternal estate that brought her low. It was me.

While the exact details of the situation are not terribly important, one thing you must know is that Yotsuyu had been turned into a Primal at the time I was forced to fight her. This is a detail that Garlean intelligence is unlikely to report, as very few who were privy to Yotsuyu's transformation lived to tell of it.

As you might imagine, I had help in dispatching her at this point. Capable though I may be, it was the Warrior of Light who shouldered a majority of the fight's burden. I have fought alongside the Warrior of Light before, even aiding her in dealing with other, lesser Primals. As trying as those battles are, spirits are always higher after them than before them. But not this time.

Something you should know about Primals is that they come into existence to fulfill a certain need. This can be the needs of nature, as with the elemental Primals of Titan and Ifrit. It can be a more complex idea, such as Lakshmi, a Primal of rebirth. In this case, Yotsuyu was a Primal that was meant to act as a bomb. Had she detonated, she would have taken all of Othard with her. She was Tsukuyomi, Primal of self-destruction.

There is something that only those in possession of the echo will be able to see, and even then they will only be able to see it in the presence of a wrathful Primal. In the vicinity of a Primal, reality is the Primal's plaything. All of what we perceive is essentially made of Aether, and Primals are beings borne of Aether. Within their domain they can deconstruct and reconstruct Aether at will. As such, the space a Primal occupies will become warped into an expression of that Primal's will. The Primal as a being and the Primal as the location it occupies will become one in the same. I call this effect an 'Aetheric Interference Field'. Understanding it is critical to understanding what happened to Yotsuyu.

I want to tell you what I saw when Yotsuyu, as the Primal Tsukuyomi, made with this power. I must tell you. I fear that if I carry the burden of this memory inside me for another day without sharing it, my heart may give out from the strain.

In the days leading up to her death, Yostuyu was taken care of and protected by an old samurai named Gosetsu. He was not a man I would expect one of your station to familiarize yourself with, Varis; he was a footsoldier. The kind of person that dies by the million when your army does so much as reposition itself. And very few people know it, but he is the reason why Doma is anything more than a smoking crater.

There was a moment during the fight where the power of the Primal Yotsuyu hosted seemed to leave her. She fell to the ground, an ordinary woman. But while Yotsuyu appeared as a normal person, the Aetheric Interference Field around us remained intact. The Warrior of Light and I found ourselves in the eye of a whirlwind. And from this whirlwind came shadows of Yotsuyu's past.

Her parents, recently murdered, emerged first. They were vengeful shades of their Yotsuyu's memories of them, driven by a hateful desire to punish Yotsuyu for the crime of existing. I expected them to attack me or the Warrior of Light. But instead, they attacked Yotsuyu.

How deeply rooted was this woman's hatred? Hatred for her family, hatred for her country, hatred for herself. When you contract an illness, you can feel where the illness afflicts your body. You can tell yourself 'I know whence the illness ends and my body begins'. In the eye of that hurricane, I think Yotsuyu lost her ability to separate her own hate out from that of the rest of the world. As such, the entire world became one blinding torrent of hate, out of which stepped vile monsters.

The Warrior of Light was the first to move, and I the second. We intercepted the shades and protected the Witch of Doma, for we knew not what else to do. But that was not the end of it. Next came a memory Asahi, more powerful than the ghosts of Yotsuyu's parents. In fact, he was more powerful than the real Asahi could possibly be. That is what indicated to me that these were not reanimated corpses or empowered mortals, but memories reconstructed in Aether.

As such, my heart sunk when I saw the last shade emerge from the storm: Zenos yae Galvus. A man I had fought many times before. Yet it was not a man who stood before me, but a shade of Yotsuyu's fear of that man, granted power by her perception of Zenos as an unstoppable force. Not even the combined might of the Warrior of Light and myself could affect this foe.

I thought it was over. I thought this shade of Zenos would strike down Yotsuyu, and in the process release the destructive power of Tsukuyomi, destroying Doma in the process. But I underestimated the strength of Yotsuyu.

From the very storm that borne Zenos' ghost unto our battle, a memory of Gosetsu leapt forth to protect Yotsuyu. I could not believe it. Was it the real Gosetsu? No, Gosetsu could never cross swords with Zenos and live. He was a memory, like the others, but not a hateful one. He was proof that there was kindness, patience, and forgiveness a world that had otherwise only shown Yotsuyu bitterness.

The Aetheric Interference Field brought us into Yotsuyu's heart, and there we witnessed the death throes of an oft-repeated battle: That between the absolution of hate, and the improbability of love.

Gosetsu and Zenos dueled until both lied dead. And with that, Tsukuyomi's power was expended.

I approached Yotsuyu after the battle ended. I had no illusions about saving Yotsuyu. She was far beyond anyone's healing magics. No, I wanted instead to bear witness to this woman's final moments.

She looked up at me and spoke her last words: 'What's the matter? The Witch of Doma will soon be dead."

More than a year has passed since that day, and still those words haunt me. You and I are soldiers, Varis. We know well that there is a line that you cross, and when you cross it you can't go back. It is a line between life and death. Between love and hate. Between damnation and salvation in one's own heart. It is crossed in the moment of accepting your death, and having death taken from you. It is crossed when one leans too heavily on a comrade who is not long for this world. Once you cross that line, you are no longer the person you were before. You lose faith in the meaning of your own struggles, and as such become cold to the warm feelings of this world. There is no cradle soft enough, nor embrace warm enough, to bring a person back from that despair.

But whatever lines you and I have crossed, we are in possession of a privilege that eludes most soldiers: We can still go home.

Yotsuyu has no such privilege. She was cruel, and evil, and hateful. But it did not have to be so. She was just a girl, not a soldier, yet still she crossed the line many years before she died. I can only hope that wherever she finds herself in the hereafter is a kinder place than where she was born. I hope it feels like home.

Thus concludes my report on the death of Yotsuyu goe Brutus.

-Captain Robyn Sawyer, Alliance Expeditionary Force"

[Hope you don't mind me invoking you again, @whitherliliesbloom]

#robyn sawyer #ffxiv #yotsuyu #illya skawi #varis zos galvus

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