#nachtiyrn thosinsyn

[idanwyn-et-al]

My discord is doing a “good/neutral/bad” ending writing project, so here’s Idan’s good ending. Other endings to come after I stop weeooing.

Finally, after all these years, her countless acts of Ceigybet---the sail prayers---paid off. Llymlaen was singing to her, loud enough that Seran could hear, even through the clouds of white hair sprouted from his inner ears. They sat on the shores of Mist, outside of Syntblyss; it had changed little over the decades, save to add framed pictures of Idan’s articles; Seran’s conquests, both of the sword and the soul; Okuni’s bookshop, complete with a smudged definitely-yokai in the corner; Claire and Percevains making silly faces in front of a restored Firmament; Nachtiyrn half-blocking out the camera even as he grinned around his thumb; Falkgara laughing wildly from the bow of an experimental ship wrought by Zakuro, who was also grinning wildly, clinging to Odile’s legs, the rest of the Elezen woman just out of frame; Lu’rath zapping Idan’s foot with a better-placed bolt of blue levin than hers could ever hope to be. The Nixie sailed well and welcomed many guests, and when she was passed to the next in line, Idanwyn took only her photos to Syntblyss. She would cook there frequently, mostly for neighbors; so few were the folks who remembered the calamity nowadays, and it gave them just enough to talk about while they enjoyed her omelettes, her tea cakes with creme fraiche, her oversized bowls of the ramen she’d learned to love in her youth. 

 Seran laughed at her as she felt her heart’s beat slow---’slow as a mermaid, love, that’s why they call us that, remember?’ her long-dead mother’s voice sang from the waves. She breathed deep, drawing her husband’s laughter into her lungs with the salt, the memory, the certainty of death that is only given to those who imminently face it.

The Ala Mhigan man stood, his muscles weathered but still hardy like the gnarled trees of his homeland, and sat beside his wife in the rising tide. When the tide receded, no bodies remained; only two silver rings bearing blue stones, a beachside cottage full of memories,  and a cloud of dancing fireflies above the waves.

#my writing #good/neutral/bad endings #answered asks #catch me outside crying forever #idanwyn lluanswys #seran lancier #okuni tomioka #nachtiyrn thosinsyn #zakuro kaifu #claire lionarm #percevains valeroyant #lu'rath ignemortel #and dilly

[idanwyn-et-al]

Some friends up to Starlight shenanigans! Screenshots by @rede-mption and Percevains.

#ffxiv shenanigans #starlight festival #ho ho ho no #not pictured: me afking for long stretches of time after setting up Idanwyn's next pose #idanwyn lluanswys #nachtiyrn thosinsyn #zirishi rishi #claire lionarm #zakuro kaifu #ameline travanchet #percevains valeroyant #friend screenshots

[idanwyn-et-al]

FFXiv Write 2018. Prompt #8: Crag

Idanwyn had often heard it said that all Roegadyn were formed of the bones of the earth, and Sea Wolves were shaped by wind and wave, weathered into sentinels with proud noses and enduring strength. One of her very first memories was running her tiny, chubby fingers over her father’s imposing, red-bearded mien; his own skin rough like pumice stone, pitted with salt and ocean air, covered in tattoos and three broad streaks of woad. Her amber eyes were a mirror of his, and the fearsome pirate, Lluantoum the Depth Charge, was like many fierce fathers when holding their own bairns; he was all tenderness, face filled with kindness and massive arms serving as a cradle.

Like many Sea Wolf children, Idanwyn and her younger sister, Styrnwyn, held a healthy respect for the perils of their upbringing, but never really any fear; it was simply their reality, and they were raised to learn how to thrive in it from their earliest moons of life. Perhaps it was because she had been raised by such fearless folk, proud of their scars and roughness, that Idanwyn felt guilt when she discovered a fondness for cosmetics, for fine lotions and gentle skin scrubs, for perfumes of jessamine and amber. Too rough and wild for many of those born on land, and far too delicate for those born at sea, she often felt an imposter in both worlds. If her clan were fearless chalk outcroppings weathering ancient winter seas, she was talc that crumbled at the touch; if those on land were beautiful flowers and trees, she was as a gnarled oak clinging to steep cliffs.

Even as she earned her place in the world, she was ashamed to admit that even with Nachtiyrn and Falkgara, those she considered kinsmen in the Assembly, she felt intimidated, once again the young girl who’d fled from marauder lessons to read ten-gil romance novels near the ovens at the Bismarck. Their long years of training with the axe, working as muscle and fangs for various employers, had her quietly doubting her own merit as editor and chef, even though they never gave her anything but respect for both professions.

Perhaps in time, she could learn to feel comfortable in her own skin; though she preferred it softly fragranced, lips painted red and lashes darkened with mascara, it was hers, and it was still born of Llymlaen’s dreams, if a lighter daydream rather than a deep vision.

(( @a-nacht-at-sea for the mention!))

#FFXivWrite2018 #prompt 8 crag #My writing #idanwyn lluanswys #nachtiyrn thosinsyn #falkgara khanmagasyn #ffxiv mateus #ffxiv roegadyn

[idanwyn-et-al]

A daughter of Llymlaen. She adores her fancy trappings, but in her natural state, she can be found spearing the freshest fish to serve at Reverie. 

((Thank you to @a-nacht-at-sea for the screenshots, and the upcoming commission!))

#ffxiv mateus #ffxiv rp #FFXIV #femroe #roegadame #sea wolf #idanwyn lluanswys #nachtiyrn thosinsyn #roegadyn