#no doubt her life is much better with thancred but there’s such this back and forth

[ambalambs]

What is Miko's relationship with each of the other scions like? Is there any that he gets along with better than the others? Are there any he just doesn't vibe with as much for whatever reason?

Hmm there really isn't any of the scions miko doesn't get on well with. They're all basically his family at this point and he loves each of them very much in different ways for different reasons. But I'll go into more detail under the cut here in case this gets too long lol

So first off of course his favorite absolute bestie love of his life scion is g'raha lol they just got on so well back during crystal tower. Tbh miko really did see g'raha as basically his first actual true friend since he wasn't just someone he met from his work with the scions so losing him so quickly was rough. But everything is good now and they can be dorky idiots together forever \o/

I really think miko is extremely close with the twins. Theyre basically like younger siblings to him and he'd fight tooth and nail to keep them safe. They remind him a lot of his younger brother and sister back home and so he goes into ultimate big bro miko mode a lot with them. He does seem to have a slight softer spot for alphinaud just because of all they experienced together throughout hw. And during a moment of weakness after haurchefant died miko shared his real name with alphinaud so the kiddo was the first out of the scions to ever learn it. However that doesn't mean he's not incredibly close with alisaie lol those two together are a powerhouse of playful rivalries and miko knows if he is up for some chaos then alisaie will no doubt stand beside him. It sometimes breaks his heart how much she seems to worry about him tho.

His second bestie next to g'raha is definitely estinien tho. They just have so many things they can relate to together and there is so much comeraderie between them. Also there is probably a single braincell shared between them when they're together lol miko is a lot more easy going and playful tho so I imagine there is a lot of eye rolling from estinien when miko gets going. The only time miko had difficulty with estinien was back in hw with estinien's drive for revenge. Miko struggled with that in himself a lot and just to see how destructive it became for his friend really shook him.

As for thancred, miko absolutely respects and loves thancred to bits. There has never been a single moment miko has doubted thancred would have his back no matter what. Even after the whole ifrit or lahabrea stuff miko never lost his trust in him. This has also kinda led to miko feeling pretty comfortable in confiding in thancred when he needs to without feeling like he needs to keep up strength and appearances. Theyve seen each other at their worst and that just creates a bond that can't be broken.

I feel like if there's gonna be any scion that I could say miko doesn't entirely "vibe" with itd probably have to be y'shtola. Only in the sense that she is very smart and intense and miko will sometimes feel very small and dumb in her presence lol being in the scions full of smart people isn't always easy for him cuz he doesn't have their level if education. But he still adores y'shtola. She is another one he knows he can always trust no matter what and he finds her power and strength of will something he strives to match. He also does love how she can dish back any teasing he can give and absolutely obliterate him lol

And as for him and urianger, well thats been a complicated one over the course of their journey. Urianger has fascinated miko since he met him. His fancy way of talking is definitely something miko was initially drawn to cuz he just found himself engrossed in whatever topic urianger would lecture him on. But its the lies and deceptions urianger has engaged in that led to some bumpy moments for miko. Not in the sense he's angry at urianger for anything he did. Its that it always seems like urianger seemed to think miko wouldn't trust him cuz miko does wholeheartedly trust and understand him and why he'd always done things the way he did. Miko just wants them to be as close as he is with everyone else and they seem to be now after everything in ew. So now he just likes to sit with urianger and observe and listen to whatever the guy is studying lol miko may also try to sneak in some triple triad cards into urianger's ast card deck just to see how he'd react xD

That covers the main crew tho I think yeah? Except for like krile and tataru which he of course gets one super well with them too. He likes to poke krile for funny stories about the twins. And he love love l o v e s tataru so much! A good number of his scarves are no doubt made by her at this point and he cherishes all of them. So yeah basically the scions could do no wrong in Miko's eyes lol theyre his big family now and sure there's some ups and downs, some times where he'd like to smack a couple of them on the noggin but he loves them all so much and would do anything for them.

As an aside too he misses papalymo a lot ;^; he didn't want to leave him behind on baelsar's wall. And he still misses minfilia a lot and it weighs on him he couldn't do more to have saved her 😔 she meant a lot to him and he learned so much about himself and the echo and everything from her and he just wishes they couldve had more time.

#oh gosh I hope that didnt end up being way longer and more of an answer than you expected lol #i had many thoughts about the family lol #miko jinjahl

[xiv-wolfram]

Drinking Buddies - Comic Script

Heavensward - Patch 3.1

Wolfram and Thancred get drunk.

My Comics in Chronological Order

I'm gonna have to make a bunch of really dumb drunk expressions for this one. If this is hard to read I'm sorry. Let me know if there's a better way to write drunk dialogue!

This is the script for a future comic. Posting for those who don’t want to wait to get the story. Numbers indicate frame number. A or B followed by ) is for a split frame.

Wolf walking with Thancred in Ishgard. Narrator - 'The Scions found Thancred living in the woods in the Dravanian Hinterlands. Due to his time in the life stream he lost his ability to manipulate Aether but doesn't seem to want to acknowledge the loss.'

A) Wolf - "So, how are you doing, really." B) Thancred smiles smugly - "Splendid as always. With so many lovely Ishgardian ladies around who could be in low spirits?"

Wolf rolls eyes with exhaustion - "You can stop it with the suave ladies man bollocks. You can't manipulate Aether anymore. If that happened to me I'd be devastated. So - I'm here for you if you want to talk about it."

Thancred scoffs - "Honestly... I just want to drink."

Wolf grins - "Aye, that works as well. Let's go grab a pint." Thancred smiles - "Now there's a good friend!"

They're drunk at the inn. Thancred much more so. Wolf talking seriously - "Listen - all I'm saying *hic* is you could have sent word and had us come get you. As much fun as it is to wrestle bears naked in the woods, your friends were worried about you."

A) Thancred dumb drunk face - "Huh *hic*." B) Wolf laughs drunkenly, holding his glass.

Thancred confused drunk face - "If I... *hic* didn't know an'better... I'd sssay you *hic* weren referrin to animals."

Wolf grins coyly - "Then it's a good thing you know better. *hic* Now, let's get you some coffee." Thancred - "I'd *hic* rather you gemme *hic* woman."

A) Wolf amused, taking a sip of his drink - "As if you'd know what to do with her in this state." B) Thancred eyes closing - "Ayyyy yer wanna talk. I *hic* never sshe you wif an'body."

Wolf grins smugly - "I'll have you know I've had my fill of such *hic* encounters. The number may even shock you if not the variety."

Wolf smirks sadly - "Granted… I didn't exactly enjoy that time. It all felt hollow... After *hic* Rau left me I only met one other that really caught my interest. She meant alot to me and I miss her horribly now that she's gone, but it still paled in comparison to him. Once you've *hic* had love like that you're kind of ruined for others. *hic* I can't give my heart over to another…he still has half of it…"

A) Thancred surprised jaw drop. B) Wolf eyes widen realizing what he's saying - "Oh fuck! Thancred you can not tell a soul!"

Thancred dumb surprised drunk face - "You'n *hic* the General? 'Ow?"

Wolf scoffs. Thought - 'I doubt he'll remember any of this in his state.' Say - "Aye, as you know we were friends from way back. Well, we were more than friends.*hic* We even lived together for a couple years. Hells, I was gonna ask him to marry me.*hic*'

Wolf looks down, sad - "Then I ruined everything. I lost my soulmate, but gained some much needed introspection. *hic* Realized what a selfish bastard I was and 'ave done my best to be a good person since. I know he'd never feel that way for me again, but even having his friendship again has meant so much to me. *hic* So aye, I may not get around like you do - but I know enough to see you could never pleasure a woman in this state."

A) Thancred amazed drunk face - No, I *hic*. I mean HOW? E's masshive. B) Wolf turns red, annoyed - Godsdamnit, Thancred - I pour my heart out and yer just thinkin of bedroom habits?! Also, clearly whatever you're picturing is incorrect. In case you didn't notice I'm not a small man either! He's only got a few inches on me!"

A) Thancred laughing, snorts - "I heard *hic* rumorsh!". B) Wolf turns red, eyes wide staring at the ground - "Of height you degenerate! Anything else is none of your business!... And likely exaggerated."

Thancred throws hands up. Cringe face - "Shorry! *hic* I can 'elp where m'mind goes. E's almost as big asa Roe! ..Sho why don ye win 'im back of 'es yer sholmate?"

Wolfram eyebrow raise. Thought - 'Obviously don't tell him about the voidsent. You're not *that* drunk.' Say - "Well isn't it obvious? Even if he really forgave me and could feel the same - I'm the Warrior *hic* of Light. Anyone with me would be at great risk."

Wolf continues, looking sad - "It would make trouble for the Scions besides. *hic* Anytime Ul'dah needs help the rest of the Eorzean Alliance would think we were playin favorites."

Thancred sad drunk face - "O... Well I sshuppose that makes shense." Wolf looking down, sad.

Thancred sad, very drunk, eyes closing - "M sorry ye'can follow yer 'eart my fren." Wolf sad smile looking - "Aye, thank you. This was *hic* nice actually. To talk to someone. Maybe I'll have to get ye drunk more often."

Thancred passed out on bar. Wolf amused - "Alright, let's get you into bed. *hic* Shtola will have my head if ye can't function tomorrow."

My Comics in Chronological Order

#WoLComic #FFXIV #FFXIV WoL #OC Wolfram #FFXIV OC #Raubahn #Raubahn Aldynn #WoLBahn #Hyur Highlander #Thancred #WolframSaga

[allycryz]

Whoops I am ficcing in a tumblr post

citrus and inappropriate use of leylines and power dynamics

Hades x Thancred, Nerys x Nero, other pairings

"Stubborn to the last," Hades crooned. "Comfortable?"

His lover tested the pulsating bonds of the leylines locking his wrists behind his back. Said lover muttered something.

Hades tugged on his platinum locks. "Speak up, boy."

"Yes, considering." Thancred wriggled, testing the limits of the leylines. Around them was a wonderful chorus of moans and sighs. Hades had lived a thousand lifetimes, indulged in a hundred such events.

It never tired. But it did not diminish his other encounters to say he counted these gatherings at the Rising Stones to be among his favorites.

"Yes or no."

A grunt. "Yes."

"Good boy."

Thancred's cheeks turned a brilliant red. Very fetching. He inclined his head towards the chaise where Haurchefant lay between Nerys and Cid; languid beneath their attentions.

"Anyway, I'm right--dont you dare spank me right now, I'm serious--she isnt interested in him like that. I would know."

"I adore you," Hades told him and kissed the back of his neck. "Even when you are wrong."

"And you call me stubborn."

At that moment the man in question entered the scene--Nero clad in naught but leather pants dyed red. One of Nerys' creations he was sure--she had quite the talent for the awl and knife. His neck and back were a mass of marks , no doubt the recent handiwork of the erstwhile Azure Dragoon (who looked quite satisfied with his aether tinged claws manifested.)

He bent down to whisper something into Cid's ear, receiving a reprimanding hair tug in return. Men after his own heart, those two.

"He's there for Cid," said Thancred.

"Of course," said Hades as turned his aether into a warming oil to ease his way. "And we all know that one cannot be interested in multiple parties in either an orgy or the rest of life."

"Ass."

"If you so wish, dear boy." Hades was nothing if not obliging.

"Fuck."

"That is the point, generally."

He might use magical means to overhear the exchange happening on the couch: Haurchefant in raptures with Cid murmuring to him and Nerys saying something to Nero-

Who braced himself over the chaise to say something to her with his characteristic smirk in place-

And Hades would later concede it was hard to say who reached for whom first. But the end result was the pair of them becoming quite occupied with the other, kissing with passion and hunger.

"...That doesn't mean-"

"Give it up, sweetling." Hades chuckled into his ear. "It always goes so much better for you when you come around to my way of thinking."

#nerys eluned #nero x wol #do not perceive me #lemon

[laeorinel]

FFXIV Write - Day 25 - Call it a day

Minor Endwalker spoilers.

Samara was already fully awake as the first few slivers of dawn filtered through the small holes in her yurt. Already dressed for the day of work ahead and sipping down a cup of freshly brewed tea, she looked over the few fragile sprouts that would need to be planted once the ground had dried enough from the recent storm.

Farming was not something her people did on any grand scale. Most of their ways of agriculture were based around livestock. The land of the Azim Steppe was not well suited to grow most things. What vegetables, fruits and plants could be foraged were entirely wild rather than cultivated. Naturally, this led to a rather steep learning curve once she set foot on the island. Establishing a small plot was easy enough, but ensuring the tiny sprouts did not die within a week of planting was not. The first batch of produce she had grown without much help from the mammets was an accomplishment she was proud of. It was the start of her embracing this new way of life on the island, and it was all horribly domestic. 

Collecting up the small tray of bright green sprouts, she carefully made her way out of her yurt, perched atop the highest peak surrounding the growing settlement at the base of the cliff. To see it take shape was a point of pride for her. This was her home now. One she had made herself. The sense of peace that gave her was one she had never really felt. To her, home was the open road. It was the campsite she made whenever she felt like it, resting beneath the open sky. It was the old dodgy inn on a barely travelled back road that was held together by little more than a few rusting nails and the hopes and prayers of the innkeeper. Home was something that was never the same thing every night. Until now. 

Maybe it was no surprise that she now entertained a thought she had not considered all too often. Calling it a day on her life as an adventurer and wanderer.  

It was a thought that had crossed her mind on a few occasions in recent months. In the aftermath of the Final Days and Ultima Thule, it took many months of healing before she was fit to do much of anything. Multiple healers all cautioned her on returning to her old ways of fighting, some even going as far as saying she couldn't do it anymore. Her body had been through too much. Even some of her fellow Scions cautioned her on returning to the field. It was something she and Thancred had butted heads about on more than one occasion. It even led to them parting on less-than-better terms when he ventured east with Urianger. The rift that argument caused still had to be repaired. As Samara made her way towards the farm on the far hill, she could not help but recollect. 

That argument was still something that unsettled her. It had become such a big thing. What started as a falling out between the two of them soon encompassed all of the Scions to varying degrees. It was not her proudest moment. Still, her thoughts were valid as far as she was concerned. How could she not feel as though she was just being discarded when they were all scattering to the winds and leaving her behind? It was like it had always been. They only ever had use for her as a warrior. Now that her status as one was in doubt, she was no longer needed, and they knew it but refused to say it. They knew she was little more than a liability in the field, and she could hardly help with the more intellectual pursuits in Sharlayan. She had called each of them out on it in various ways, and some more unkind words were said. She had not lingered to hear any of their responses. She did what she had always done when she felt she had overstayed her welcome anywhere and ran. Ran as far as her still limited aether could take her. 

The next time she heard anything about the Scions was when Tataru mentioned her agreement with the Admiral about the island in the Cieldalaes. The Lalafell said the others had gone their separate ways and nothing more. Exile to 'paradise' was a fitting end, she supposed. It was far more palatable for the bards to say the Warrior of Light ended their days in peace than bloodied and broken on some far-flung battlefield.

The only problem was she was alone now, or well, mostly alone. Mammets were a kind of company, even if the ones on the island were all workaholics. But contact with anyone outside of the island was fleeting. Even Tataru only visited sparingly, and letters from friends or allies were just as irregular. 

As she reached the farm and moved over to one of the freshly tilled plots with her tray of tiny sprouts, she felt the uncomfortable prickle behind her eyes. She had shed enough tears over this. Over them. She remembered the faint hope she had on joining the Scions years ago. The hope that she had finally found a place to call her own. A weird sort of tribe that would accept her at long last. A family that would not abandon her. What a fool she had been. 

As her tears fell to the earth as she planted the new sprouts, she hated how her heart still ached to see them.

#ffxiv fanfiction #ffxivwrite2023 #ffxiv write 2023

[lily-of-rabanastre]

Ascilia—Chapter 8, Scene 04 Excerpt

Just a bit from the upcoming chapter. Having trouble finding the motivation to write, and new updates to some of the games I've been playing (FFXIV, Honkai Star Rail) have been commanding my attention. Anyways, enjoy.

Ascilia and Y’shtola whiled away the hours, drinking coffee, eating biscuits, and making as much small talk as they could. The coffee was rather decent for a first time effort, and while the biscuits were no doubt purchased from the Last Stand, they complemented the coffee rather well. Or so Ascilia thought, at least.

But as much fun as they were having, the hours passed far too quickly, and before she knew it the pair had departed out into daylight. Their destination this time around was the Studium, where they would seek the aid of one Scholarch Montichaigne. And as she stood before the giant-sized double doors to its hallowed halls, she couldn’t help but wonder...

“Did you study here, Shtola?” she asked. “For that matter, what of my brother, Thancred?”

“I’m afraid not. I apprenticed to Master Matoya at the age of seven, and labored under her tutelage for a full decade. I never had the chance to attend the Studium…” Trailing off, Y’shtola appeared to Ascilia to be lost in thought. But soon after she perked her head up and continued on. “... Neither did Thancred, as I recall. Soon after Master Louisoix took him in off the streets, he was put in the care of another Archon. And after that, well, I’m certain you know all the rest.”

“I suppose I do,” said Ascilia, thinking back to her early years as Antecedent to the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.

He was but a young man of seventeen summers when they first met—when she, a girl of twelve, watched her father die. And over the next fifteen years her feelings shifted like the changing of the seasons. From a cold and bitter fury no child should ever have to feel(I lost track of writing here—whoopsie!!)

Thancred’s skills in espionage and survival had always played a pivotal role in gathering intel for her. Yet even as their numbers swelled and she expanded her network of influence, he continued to work himself to the bone. Burning both ends of the night whenever he could. And not once in those first five years did he slip up or make a mistake.

Until the day their newest recruit was forced to do battle with Ifrit, God of the Amalj’aa...

What happened to putting the past to rest? Have you given up on that already, Minfilia?

Pushing such thoughts from her mind, Ascilia adorned herself with a well-practiced smile. “But I was curious what it might be like to study here.”

“I sometimes wonder about that myself,” Y’shtola replied. “What might my life have been like had I pursued my studies here instead?”

“Tea at the Last Stand after a busy day of lectures?” Ascilia suggested, her forced smile giving way to genuine mirth.

“Oh, that does sound lovely,” Y’shtola chuckled. “Afternoons with friends spent sipping tea and debating theories…” Then just as suddenly, she sighed contentedly. “... Still, I wouldn’t give up my time with Master Matoya for the world. The dank cave I studied in was about as far from the bright, airy halls of academia as one could get. But it was a wondrous, magical childhood nonetheless.”

“I can’t help but feel a mite envious, hm hm,” she replied, softly chuckling as well. “But I think I understand. I feel much the same way about Lhaminn—perhaps my life might have turned out for the better had my father fled to Sharlayan, but the thought of her never entering my life…” Before she could continue, before she could intrude upon her own past once more, Ascilia shook her head. “Well, never mind. Pray forgive this idle distraction.”

At this, Y’shtola raised an eyebrow. “If something is troubling you—”

“Then full glad would I be to let you know,” Ascilia insisted, cutting her off. “Shall we be off?”

#ffxiv #ffxiv fanfiction #minfilia warde #y'shtola rhul

[lyllianhawke]

Of crystals and choices

Momodi was a real sweet lady in his opinion. She loved her job and had a kind yet firm hand for all the faces she cared for. Running the largest guild in Ul'dah is not an easy thing but she does it with grace and an ear to the ground for all the latest news and information going around the city (and beyond).

She'd given me a list of instructions when I introduced myself and signed on the dotted line to become a member of the adventurer's guild. She told me to meet with a person named Hammon at the pugilists guild, make sure i attune myself to the aetherytes in the city, and to chat with Seresoga at the markets. Though her most important tip - was to help the small folk. Lend a helping hand to those in need. It's the best way to earn some coin but also to gather information.

Information was just as valuable to me as gil. I needed to find my friend. Was she still alive or did she perish? I'd asked Momodi about her, giving her a description of my last memory. She told me she sees so many new adventurers come through that it's really hard to keep track. Even searching the register.. people don't always give their true names for many reasons when signing up. She knew some artists and gave me their names. Suggesting i commission them for a portrait of her likeness so that i could use it when i was out on my jobs.

Did I mention how great Momodi is?

I started setting some funds aside from every job to pay for a commissioned portrait of my lost friend. Well if i'm being honest, she was my sister, my partner in crime, more than just a friend.

Momodi approached me with a special mission. A gentleman named Papashan needed assistance down at the station just outside the city. It was of grave importance and needed someone with the right qualifications to take it on.

I took the job request and headed out of the city to meet with the man.

He was much older than i was expecting, probably close to my age if i were to reveal it to others. Momodi's description helped me to identify him even with my poor vision. He'd tasked me with a few simple errands, my guess to gauge my trustworthiness, before he revealed his true purpose.

He was in charge of a search for a young lady of nobility. Lady Lilira. He bade me go search near the Sultan Tree, pointing in direction of the largest tree i'd seen since i'd left the village i'd been born in.

I made my way over, and found a small girl praying to the tree. Not long after I arrived, so did another person. I'd detected his foot falls even with their near silent approach.

I listened to their exchange briefly before what the stranger had deemed "voidsent" showed up. The stranger and I sized each other up before a brief agreement that we'd protect the girl and keep her safe.

The fight was over shortly after it began. The stranger was talented with his blades keeping it distracted while i fought with my fists. When we'd finally felled the beast I'd noticed a shining blue crystal laying on the ground.

Because curiosity over came my better judgement, I picked up the crystal and was transported, or so it seemed to another place. I'd had this dream before too many times. Her voice was familiar.

Hear. Feel. Think.

The world is a cruel place. Being given yet another burden i didn't want. Hydaelyn had chosen me as one of her champions.

When I'd awakened .. with the worst headache of my life, the stranger quipped "Ah I see you're awake.. a surefit of aether no doubt." I sighed stretching, standing up once more.

Lady Lilira was being petulant about being called a child, and stormed off back in the direction of Papshan. The stranger with the penchant for talking overmuch and soft footsteps asked me to follow Lady Lilira and to speak with Papashan to update him of the events that transpired. He bid me farewell and I followed the young lady back to where my job began.

Papashan and the lady's entourage thanked me profusely and bid me to not worry about the man that showed up. Thancred was his name..aside from "enjoying the sound of his own voice" as Papashan put it, he was a trusted figure in Ul'dah and I would more like than not, run into him again as he's a scholar studying the aether around Thanalan.

I shrugged, thanking him for that information and made my way back into the city. By the time I'd made it back to the Quicksand, I fell roughly onto a barstool as I ordered some food and drink from one of the servers. Momodi made her way over and I regaled her of the afternoon's events.

She was of a similar opinion of Thancred, but with a bit more info on him. While he was absolutely someone that could be trusted and helped Ul'dah in many ways.. he was something of .. a womanizer. She told me if I hung around the Quicksand in the evenings I'd be able to see what she meant first hand. We had a good laugh at that one before she went back to work, and I returned to my meal.

#Lyl's Story #FFXIV #Adventures in Eorzea #Final Fantasy 14 #RP #Roleplay #Viera #Vii

[toadeyes-miqote]

Umm Zero... He's my mentor.

( Hylnyan be hanging with him for a day or two. After Pandemonium she deserves this. The only change was the lack of Estinien in this scene. She even bought a new outfit though not for this reason. The rains have ceased but now The Emissary pops in roulette and it do be cloudy here.)

“Umm Zero…. He’s my mentor. Wisdom does not always come from reading dusty old tomes. Think what you will of him but his eyes see much.” The Miqo’te strode forward arms wide as she embraced the pale hair Hyur.

It was good to see her in high spirits after how they had to threaten to bundle her back to Ishgard to convalesce under the watchful eyes of Lord Edmont and Aymeric.

Moving a little way from the others, he could sense she had much to say by the ferocity of the thumping her tail gave him. He doubts her concerns were about Zenos’ former weapon. He gave her a warm smile to signal that he was ready. “Should your Sharlayan ears and eyes contact you before this. They might have drawn your attention to a recent report about an incident in the Aitlascope. Whether you rather read their report or the one I filed with Tataru or hear it from my own mouth is up to you.” She patted his hands lightly.

“For you to harbour such concerns. I would be a fool not to hear it.” “The resolved incident involves The-- Elidibus and souls of the dead Ancients. I had to take a trip back to Elpis past and aid them in containing their creatures’ outbreak.” She was looking for the right words to use. And being careful about it. Thancred suspected why

“Go on.” “I met Lahabrea.” “…” “Lahabrea of the past. Like Elidibus and Emet. I saw the path they would end up taking.” “…” “But my main concern is if you had came into contact with an auracite know as The Heart of Sabik?” He rummage through his thoughts, he’s aware that she knows he does not speak much about his time under Lahabrea’s control. For her to bring it up like this. “My memories of the time are somewhat jumbled and hazy. There were days I could not account for.” He doubt he could get the answers she needs by his own ability to remember.

“One of the researchers of the Aitlascope had had memories of an Ancient, the one who put out the distress call awaken in him. Should he asks to meet you and you wish for me to accompany you. Let me know. The Heart of Sabik is in the hands of a shard of Lahabrea’s son.”

“… I understand your concerns and will keep your words in mind. Who else have you spoken to about this?” “Only G’raha and technically Fourchenault.” “I should hear you out.” He squeezed her hand in assurance as they headed for a spot to rest. No sense rushing when her mind isn’t at ease. By now he knew better than to brush aside her concerns.

--------------------------------

Extra

"I see island life had been treating you well." "I been behaving yes. I have a package for you." She passed him a box of biscuits, it had a couple of letters tied to it. The neat little handwriting was greatly familiar to him. "My thanks." "My house in Shirogane is ready to receive you as the guest of honor, unless you prefer visiting the island or my apartment. My mate will prepare a feast for you." "That will be something to look forward to indeed.... Your m.... Your mate?! He has return??!!" How did you find him?!!" ".... I didn't, Meteion dumped him at my feet and would only say that Bahamut had been uncoiled and there were great wishes of happiness for me. Certain parties agree that retrieving him was payment enough." "That is good news. I look forward to visiting then. "

------------------------------

TL;:DR - The lady ain't good with words, she works more by instincts due to her hunter upbringing. There are only a few people who are able to piece together her lack of words. so far Thancred is the main person who could, the other ones would be Yugiri and Lucia, amusingly the aides are good reading this.

Wefies now at own page

"

Might upgrade to daylight version. but its seems cloudy all the time.

Might shift this part back to Pandemonium later

Yes there was a line of thought that occurred, if Heart of Sabik was already influencing the desire of Lahabrea for a long time after the conclusion of Pandemonium.

Are Thancred (during Lahacred), Gaius and Nero affected by it?

Thancred if he either comes into contact with it during Lahacred. The need to do good and be better? Or that he kept thinking he not good enough? Post ARR behaviour? Washed off riding in the Flow? Or into Heavensward-Stormblood as well? Wash off during the trip to The First? HW Thancred was this?

Gaius if he's near enough during the installation of the Heart Was that what ignited his Shadow hunting?

Same with Nero Does it increase his obsession with Cid O_O

I would think it worn off for the first two, if Alma (Ivalice raid fuzzy now) be the reference. Nero be interesting though if it did affect him that way.

-----------

I will LOL if Zero's mother turned out to be WoL's 13th shard

#book 6 - Endwalker #6.4 spoilers #Where Erichthonios now? #Mouldy Lahabread drama #Pandemonium summary #Therapy of the Fathers #Of Big Fat Tacos #Thancred appreciation #Jenova is coming #my fics #Tracking Hylnyan

[crossroadsdimension]

They fought through the remains of civilizations, memories that Meteion had hoarded for thousands of years. People, succumbing to plague...a people who made machines that decided to kill them because there would be no peace while man walked the earth (and the shreds of knowledge left behind that spoke of an entire world under one banner...Cross agreed with Estinien that this is what their world would have become, had Garlemald succeeded), and then a world where the people didn’t do anything anymore, and thought true peace lay in death. (Their apathy unnerved both herself and Thancred; to think these people reached for the stars and didn’t think to use the knowledge they’d gained….)

All enemies fell before them, their despair not becoming their own. Cross would’ve fought for a cure, as she did with the Tonberries. She would’ve fought the machines, as she had against Garlemald. And she railed against the want for death, the feeling that there was nowhere higher to climb and reach for. There was always a step beyond, in a different direction.

Their determined hope left Meteion confused, but no less desperate and determined to see them reach true levels of despair. To see them share in the feelings she herself suffered from. The little birds merged together, becoming a large bird woman, singing the song of oblivion, even as one small part of her still rallied against herself.

Cross knew that blue bird. She remembered the little Meteion Hermes had trailing after him.

And she was not about to let the majority kill her friends in an attempt to combat them.

Zenos showing up in the form of Shinryu, on the other hand, was the last thing Cross expected after sending her friends to safety. (She had no doubt that Thancred was cursing her for forcing him away in this moment -- he was a protector, he was supposed to protect her. But here she was, wanting to make sure that none of them sacrificed themselves again. She was protecting them.) She wasn’t keen on accepting his help, but they needed to fly after the Endsinger as she fled.

Azem’s crystal shone in the darkness, summoning a platform on Shinryu’s back and calling other souls to her side. And they fought. The Endsinger tried to end them, but fervent prayer from those she’d sent to safety called out in answer, shielding them from the worst of it and setting the battle to a new, determined tune.

A song that sang with Cross’ own soul, a familiar melody that she first heard in her battle against the Ultima Weapon. Her melody.

(”I have have enough of your harping for all to feel despair and death!” Cross pointed with an arrow at the Endsinger in front of them. “I have had enough of your attempts to dictate the fate of the universe just because you think you know better! How about you hear what I feel and think for a change, instead of forcing us to hear yours! My hope rises on wings of love and companions, and it’s time you heard it too!”)

Bolstered by dynamis and her own determined focus, Cross lead the charge to beat the Endsinger within an inch of her life, playing her melody fiercely on her bow and singing as loudly as she could. The Endsinger tried to rally, tried to drown them in her despair, but it did not hold -- not against the hope and prayers of her comrades, and not against her.

Zenos didn’t offer much more than an audience to the battle, not interfering, but not helping, either. Cross decided not to think much of it, even as the Endsinger fell and broke apart, and she jumped after to land on a reflective platform far, far below.

To meet with Meteion, or what remained, and show her the hope that carried her forward.

#cross' rambling #cross sylvan #miqo'te warrior of light #miqo'te oc #miqo'te wol oc #warrior of light oc #wol oc #endwalker spoilers

[usagi-mitsu]

Prompt #14 Commend

Speaking about ones feelings is hard. In some cases, it‘s harder. But this conversation had been long overdue - and had not gotten easier with time…

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast // #ffxivwrite2021

Prompt #14 Commend

A continuation of Prompt #8 Friable.

Leaving the spoils of Shia‘s day out in the field behind, the two of them looked for a quiet room. Yes. Everybody was aware of the tensions between them. That did not mean they needed to hear them arguing. Or whatever else might occur.

G‘raha for one hoped they might clear the air. It had been abundantly clear that they needed to talk. Be it how she acted around him or much more, how she tried to avoid his company all together. He had been taken by surprise when she had showed up the day prior, asking if he could lend her an ear or both. That she initiated it was a heaven-sent – he had no idea how to start the conversation to begin with. And he had seemingly even less of an idea about how to have it. Which had ended with her shoving a chair and storming out on him. Half the Rising Stones witnessed it as he had tried to follow, to reason. But that had only enraged her further. She had then been gone for another day and a half. Had Thancred not told him she was back, G‘Raha wouldn‘t have noticed for probably another day or so.

They finally found a quiet space in the back of their headquarters. The front still was a tavern after all and the insides where they resided now had belonged to it, serving as guestbooks and conference areas of sort. But with Mor Dhona not exactly having been a tourist attraction or a centre of commerce (at least not before the Scions arrived), the owner of the tavern gladly offered the space to Minfilla, when she asked.

The rooms walls had been hidden behind bookshelves, with a couch in the back. Where there should have been a pool table though, they found just a simple wooden desk with two chairs. It did feel a bit like they were about to interrogate each other.

Shia knew how to remedy that though. Her eyes searched and found one of the shelves, where she pulled out a thick book.

„Whisky?“

Opening it, the insides revealed not the contents of „The Ishgardian-Limsan Sex and Cook Book and How to Raise Morbols“, but two glasses and a bottle filled with a golden liquid.

G‘Raha simply nodded.

„Do I want to know how you know about this?“

She grinned while pouring. „Thancred and I have had our arguments over the years. This is one of the things we agree on and whenever either of us needs some me-time or if we have to discuss things and such, we get this. And then we discuss. Or just drink. It depends on the topic. And the one having the last of it, has to replace the bottle. It‘s quite the convenient arrangement.“

„I can tell.“

A careful sniff on the glass almost curled his nose hair backwards. This was strong stuff.

„To us,“ Shia sat down and raised her drink. He joined her at the table, clinking his glass to hers.

„To us.“

For a minute they were just silent. The taste of the whisky had caught G‘raha off of his guard – even though he had thoroughly taken in it‘s scent before. He needed that minute to stop coughing.

„You know you are not supposed to inhale this, right? It‘s for drinking.“

The grin in Shia‘s voice was hard to overhear.

„Please don‘t mind me,“ he replied the moment he could catch his breath, „I‘m just the one with the body that hasn‘t had any alcohol in months.“

„I‘m sorry,“ Shia amended, „I promise to consider my words more carefully from now on … well. At least for this conversation.“

And they were back on topic.

„I‘m sorry for yesterday. I had hoped to speak to you about this much earlier, but I never had the courage to do so.“ Shia kept her voice as quiet and controlled as she could, even though the thought of speaking her thoughts out loud made her want to scream and run away. Running away from her problems though had never solved them. Or it had at least that one time when they were running from the brass blades and-

She shook her head. Stay on topic!

G‘Raha seemingly hadn‘t noticed her thoughts trailing off. „Thank you for initiating. I realise that this is not an easy conversation and I commend you for starting it. I would like to apologise for not being in the right mindset yesterday. This could have gone far better.“

„It wasn‘t your fault alone. As I mentioned before, my ego is brittle and you managed to hit some spots that I was hoping you would not. Then again… you were right and I should not have reacted like this.“

„Your ego is not brittle,“ he deliberately took another sip from his glass, „if it was, I highly doubt people like Lolorito or Varis zos Galvus would still be walking this earth.“

„You forget that Varis has kicked the bucked a few weeks ago.“

„Not by your hand.“

„But I would have loved to be the one to do it.“

„You should tell Zenos whenever you next meet him.“

Shia cackled. „Yes. I‘ll say „how dare you kill your father and not letting me do it“! And he might even apologise before trying to kill me – again.“

„You just occupy a very special place in his hear. He adores you, or so I have heard.“

„He is a homicidal maniac with a tendency to gut people, overthrow empires and burn countries to the ground but sure. Let‘s say he adores me. Perhaps I should ask him for a ring and a ceremony of eternal bonding and then we have a „Kill Jill“ style fight on our wedding night. Might end this whole world ending business early.“

„And what about Fandaniel?“

„He can be our target practice instead of having a cake?“

„Sounds lovely.“

„Yeah…“

The two of them fell silent once more.

Shia was the one bring them back to their previous conversation topic.

„Right. So. If I may, I would like to just… I would like to just say what‘s been on my mind? If that is ok? It‘s a lot and I know we don‘t have all the time in the world and we-„

„Shia,“ G‘Raha leaned forward. Very gently he took her hand in his. „We will take all the time we need to get this right. All that matters is the outcome, alright?“

She nodded.

And finally spilled it all.

What she had felt for him when they had been researching the Crystal Tower. How she felt when he decided to lock himself away. How Haurchefant and the Scions had helped her get him off of her mind.

About the feelings she had been hiding form a certain Lord Commander and how she had hoped to finally be over him, when he „decided“ to just barge back into her life and rescue her from the battlefield.

About her fear and dread as the Scions, her closest and possibly only real friends in this world, slipped away one after another with no cure or solution in sight.

Her anger and hatred towards the Crystal Exarch, as he was the one responsible for her fears and worries.

How she came to care about him against her own better judgement.

How it hurt when he tried to safe her, only for him to get abducted by her fiercest enemy. She told him about the relief and happiness at his return.

What that night in the pendants truly meant to her.

And about the hurt and anger at his refusal to be together with her, when he had clearly stated that he felt just the same.

How afraid of loosing him she was once more, when she saw him half encased in crystal. And how it broke her heart to see him die then and there atop the tower.

About her reservations before merging his memories with his younger body.

And finally about how all of this hurt. That it hurt so much, she still wasn‘t able to think clearly about it all.

„You were gone. Then you were back. Then you pushed me away. And then you almost died, actually died and now you are back and now you continuously follow me on my missions – you reenacted our very first meeting, Raha! I just… I just can‘t. And it‘s not like this is the only thing on my mind: I‘m still helping out at the Bozjan southern front. The fourth imperial legion is a nightmare to deal with. And don‘t let me get started with Gaius‘ family troubles-“

„Gaius as in… van Baelsar?“ G‘Raha had not dared interrupt her until now, but this one thing he needed confirmed.

„The one and only.“

„I would like to hear more about that when we have finished this conversation, if you don‘t mind. It sounds… interesting.“

„I‘ll tell you all about it – afterwards.“ Shia groaned and hid her face in her hands. „So… to sum it up… these last few weeks, months have been an emotional roller coaster for me. I love you. I want to love you. But I don‘t know what you feel and you have not exactly been forthcoming about it. To distract myself I jumped into work and just… I didn’t want to think about this. I really didn‘t. I still don‘t want to. Having this conversation is overdue, but I‘m so afraid of what comes next. I‘m so afraid, Raha. And then again I‘m not even sure if I should like you! You are the one responsible for almost loosing my best friends – my family! And you almost killed yourself with your plan and-“

Her last words were drowned out by a sob and to G’Rahas horror she began to cry.

„And… and all of that on top of us having to save the world.“

Her last words were almost inaudible. Thick tears rolled form her baby blue eyes while she kept on sobbing uncontrollably.

G‘Raha wasn‘t sure what to do, but he followed his instincts. He was quicker on his feet than he thought he could be and had his arms around her within the blink of an eye.

And for a few minutes they just stood there, arm in arm with Shia sobbing uncontrollably into his shoulder.

After everything she had just told him, after having to bottle all of this up, it wasn‘t really a surprise to him. Had she ever allowed herself to be vulnerable with anyone before? Like this? Not just speaking about her worries for the politics and battles fo the world. But also about her worries, feelings, hopes and dreams?

„I‘m here,“ he whispered, „I‘m here Shia. Iti‘s ok. I‘m here.“ It was all he could do: Reassuring her, that she was not alone. That she did not need to suffer on her own. That it would be ok.

Shia gripped him tighter and only let go after what felt like an eternity.

„I‘m sorry…“ she sniffed and looked at him. Her eyes were swollen, her cheeks puffy and red. She had probably worn at least some mascara, which now outlined that path of her tears across her face to her chin.

„No… I‘m sorry. I can‘t really take the blame for all the things that happened in the world, but at least for my part in it… yet…“ he took a deep breath and tightened his hold around her, „to be frank, I think I would do it all again if I had to.“

She nodded, still sniffling.

„The world depended on it. And I would not be here, if you hadn‘t done it… So being mad about that is actually a bit stupid.“

„It is by no means stupid.“

„Let‘s just agree on that. But…“ Shia looked up, brows furrowed, „where do we go from here?“

They were still locked in a tight embrace. His shoulder wet with her tears and her eyes seemingly ready to spill over once again at a moments notice.

The two of them exchanged uncertain glances. A moment went by. And then another. Until G‘raha gently let go.

„I cannot say that I am good at any of this,“ he confessed, „but how about we start where everything should start? Right at the beginning?“

Shia must have looked more than confused, but he smiled and grabbed her hand.

„My name is G‘Raha Tia. I am over 300 years old and have lived through at least one apocalypse. My body though belongs to the 24 years old me from this timeline – did I mention I‘m from another time and another dimension?“

Shia giggled.

„I am now a member of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. It is my wish to support them in their every endeavour to protect the interests of this star. My idol is the Warrior of Light, a fierce fighter committed to the protection of their star. Fighting alongside them is my dearest wish.“

He paused.

„And whom do I have the pleasure with?“

It took her a moment to respond. But when she finally did, she did so with a smile.

„I‘m Shia Tamriel, Warrior of Light and resident trouble maker. But you can call me Shia.“

„It‘s a pleasure.“

It would be a new beginning. A fresh start. And finally, they would continue on together.

A continuation of Prompt #8 Friable.

Leaving the spoils of Shia‘s day out in the field behind, the two of them looked for a quiet room. Yes. Everybody was aware of the tensions between them. That did not mean they needed to hear them arguing. Or whatever else might occur.

G‘raha for one hoped they might clear the air. It had been abundantly clear that they needed to talk. Be it how she acted around him or much more, how she tried to avoid his company all together. He had been taken by surprise when she had showed up the day prior, asking if he could lend her an ear or both. That she initiated it was a heaven-sent – he had no idea how to start the conversation to begin with. And he had seemingly even less of an idea about how to have it. Which had ended with her shoving a chair and storming out on him. Half the Rising Stones witnessed it as he had tried to follow, to reason. But that had only enraged her further. She had then been gone for another day and a half. Had Thancred not told him she was back, G‘Raha wouldn‘t have noticed for probably another day or so.

They finally found a quiet space in the back of their headquarters. The front still was a tavern after all and the insides where they resided now had belonged to it, serving as guestbooks and conference areas of sort. But with Mor Dhona not exactly having been a tourist attraction or a centre of commerce (at least not before the Scions arrived), the owner of the tavern gladly offered the space to Minfilla, when she asked.

The rooms walls had been hidden behind bookshelves, with a couch in the back. Where there should have been a pool table though, they found just a simple wooden desk with two chairs. It did feel a bit like they were about to interrogate each other.

Shia knew how to remedy that though. Her eyes searched and found one of the shelves, where she pulled out a thick book.

„Whisky?“

Opening it, the insides revealed not the contents of „The Ishgardian-Limsan Sex and Cook Book and How to Raise Morbols“, but two glasses and a bottle filled with a golden liquid.

G‘Raha simply nodded.

„Do I want to know how you know about this?“

She grinned while pouring. „Thancred and I have had our arguments over the years. This is one of the things we agree on and whenever either of us needs some me-time or if we have to discuss things and such, we get this. And then we discuss. Or just drink. It depends on the topic. And the one having the last of it, has to replace the bottle. It‘s quite the convenient arrangement.“

„I can tell.“

A careful sniff on the glass almost curled his nose hair backwards. This was strong stuff.

„To us,“ Shia sat down and raised her drink. He joined her at the table, clinking his glass to hers.

„To us.“

For a minute they were just silent. The taste of the whisky had caught G‘raha off of his guard – even though he had thoroughly taken in it‘s scent before. He needed that minute to stop coughing.

„You know you are not supposed to inhale this, right? It‘s for drinking.“

The grin in Shia‘s voice was hard to overhear.

„Please don‘t mind me,“ he replied the moment he could catch his breath, „I‘m just the one with the body that hasn‘t had any alcohol in months.“

„I‘m sorry,“ Shia amended, „I promise to consider my words more carefully from now on … well. At least for this conversation.“

And they were back on topic.

„I‘m sorry for yesterday. I had hoped to speak to you about this much earlier, but I never had the courage to do so.“ Shia kept her voice as quiet and controlled as she could, even though the thought of speaking her thoughts out loud made her want to scream and run away. Running away from her problems though had never solved them. Or it had at least that one time when they were running from the brass blades and-

She shook her head. Stay on topic!

G‘Raha seemingly hadn‘t noticed her thoughts trailing off. „Thank you for initiating. I realise that this is not an easy conversation and I commend you for starting it. I would like to apologise for not being in the right mindset yesterday. This could have gone far better.“

„It wasn‘t your fault alone. As I mentioned before, my ego is brittle and you managed to hit some spots that I was hoping you would not. Then again… you were right and I should not have reacted like this.“

„Your ego is not brittle,“ he deliberately took another sip from his glass, „if it was, I highly doubt people like Lolorito or Varis zos Galvus would still be walking this earth.“

„You forget that Varis has kicked the bucked a few weeks ago.“

„Not by your hand.“

„But I would have loved to be the one to do it.“

„You should tell Zenos whenever you next meet him.“

Shia cackled. „Yes. I‘ll say „how dare you kill your father and not letting me do it“! And he might even apologise before trying to kill me – again.“

„You just occupy a very special place in his hear. He adores you, or so I have heard.“

„He is a homicidal maniac with a tendency to gut people, overthrow empires and burn countries to the ground but sure. Let‘s say he adores me. Perhaps I should ask him for a ring and a ceremony of eternal bonding and then we have a „Kill Jill“ style fight on our wedding night. Might end this whole world ending business early.“

„And what about Fandaniel?“

„He can be our target practice instead of having a cake?“

„Sounds lovely.“

„Yeah…“

The two of them fell silent once more.

Shia was the one bring them back to their previous conversation topic.

„Right. So. If I may, I would like to just… I would like to just say what‘s been on my mind? If that is ok? It‘s a lot and I know we don‘t have all the time in the world and we-„

„Shia,“ G‘Raha leaned forward. Very gently he took her hand in his. „We will take all the time we need to get this right. All that matters is the outcome, alright?“

She nodded.

And finally spilled it all.

What she had felt for him when they had been researching the Crystal Tower. How she felt when he decided to lock himself away. How Haurchefant and the Scions had helped her get him off of her mind.

About the feelings she had been hiding form a certain Lord Commander and how she had hoped to finally be over him, when he „decided“ to just barge back into her life and rescue her from the battlefield.

About her fear and dread as the Scions, her closest and possibly only real friends in this world, slipped away one after another with no cure or solution in sight.

Her anger and hatred towards the Crystal Exarch, as he was the one responsible for her fears and worries.

How she came to care about him against her own better judgement.

How it hurt when he tried to safe her, only for him to get abducted by her fiercest enemy. She told him about the relief and happiness at his return.

What that night in the pendants truly meant to her.

And about the hurt and anger at his refusal to be together with her, when he had clearly stated that he felt just the same.

How afraid of loosing him she was once more, when she saw him half encased in crystal. And how it broke her heart to see him die then and there atop the tower.

About her reservations before merging his memories with his younger body.

And finally about how all of this hurt. That it hurt so much, she still wasn‘t able to think clearly about it all.

„You were gone. Then you were back. Then you pushed me away. And then you almost died, actually died and now you are back and now you continuously follow me on my missions – you reenacted our very first meeting, Raha! I just… I just can‘t. And it‘s not like this is the only thing on my mind: I‘m still helping out at the Bozjan southern front. The fourth imperial legion is a nightmare to deal with. And don‘t let me get started with Gaius‘ family troubles-“

„Gaius as in… van Baelsar?“ G‘Raha had not dared interrupt her until now, but this one thing he needed confirmed.

„The one and only.“

„I would like to hear more about that when we have finished this conversation, if you don‘t mind. It sounds… interesting.“

„I‘ll tell you all about it – afterwards.“ Shia groaned and hid her face in her hands. „So… to sum it up… these last few weeks, months have been an emotional roller coaster for me. I love you. I want to love you. But I don‘t know what you feel and you have not exactly been forthcoming about it. To distract myself I jumped into work and just… I didn’t want to think about this. I really didn‘t. I still don‘t want to. Having this conversation is overdue, but I‘m so afraid of what comes next. I‘m so afraid, Raha. And then again I‘m not even sure if I should like you! You are the one responsible for almost loosing my best friends – my family! And you almost killed yourself with your plan and-“

Her last words were drowned out by a sob and to G’Rahas horror she began to cry.

„And… and all of that on top of us having to save the world.“

Her last words were almost inaudible. Thick tears rolled form her baby blue eyes while she kept on sobbing uncontrollably.

G‘Raha wasn‘t sure what to do, but he followed his instincts. He was quicker on his feet than he thought he could be and had his arms around her within the blink of an eye.

And for a few minutes they just stood there, arm in arm with Shia sobbing uncontrollably into his shoulder.

After everything she had just told him, after having to bottle all of this up, it wasn‘t really a surprise to him. Had she ever allowed herself to be vulnerable with anyone before? Like this? Not just speaking about her worries for the politics and battles fo the world. But also about her worries, feelings, hopes and dreams?

„I‘m here,“ he whispered, „I‘m here Shia. Iti‘s ok. I‘m here.“ It was all he could do: Reassuring her, that she was not alone. That she did not need to suffer on her own. That it would be ok.

Shia gripped him tighter and only let go after what felt like an eternity.

„I‘m sorry…“ she sniffed and looked at him. Her eyes were swollen, her cheeks puffy and red. She had probably worn at least some mascara, which now outlined that path of her tears across her face to her chin.

„No… I‘m sorry. I can‘t really take the blame for all the things that happened in the world, but at least for my part in it… yet…“ he took a deep breath and tightened his hold around her, „to be frank, I think I would do it all again if I had to.“

She nodded, still sniffling.

„The world depended on it. And I would not be here, if you hadn‘t done it… So being mad about that is actually a bit stupid.“

„It is by no means stupid.“

„Let‘s just agree on that. But…“ Shia looked up, brows furrowed, „where do we go from here?“

They were still locked in a tight embrace. His shoulder wet with her tears and her eyes seemingly ready to spill over once again at a moments notice.

The two of them exchanged uncertain glances. A moment went by. And then another. Until G‘raha gently let go.

„I cannot say that I am good at any of this,“ he confessed, „but how about we start where everything should start? Right at the beginning?“

Shia must have looked more than confused, but he smiled and grabbed her hand.

„My name is G‘Raha Tia. I am over 300 years old and have lived through at least one apocalypse. My body though belongs to the 24 years old me from this timeline – did I mention I‘m from another time and another dimension?“

Shia giggled.

„I am now a member of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. It is my wish to support them in their every endeavour to protect the interests of this star. My idol is the Warrior of Light, a fierce fighter committed to the protection of their star. Fighting alongside them is my dearest wish.“

He paused.

„And whom do I have the pleasure with?“

It took her a moment to respond. But when she finally did, she did so with a smile.

„I‘m Shia Tamriel, Warrior of Light and resident trouble maker. But you can call me Shia.“

„It‘s a pleasure.“

It would be a new beginning. A fresh start. And finally, they would continue on together.

#Ffxivwrite2021 #Shia Tamriel #G‘Raha Tia #G‘Raha Tia x WoL #Shia x G‘Raha #Relationship talk #Angst? #opening up #Spoilers up to 5.5

[zahra-hydris]

I wanted to ask so many of them but 1, 8 and 15 for Maty?

ty ty! 💖

okay 8 is a looooooong one because whew so i'll go 1, 15, and then 8 last

1. Why did they pick their first class/job? What about the job they main now?

maty started as a thaumaturge/black mage (and comes back to it often) for two reasons. one, it was the best job training (in her opinion) available in ul'dah (and she was doing it secretly). and two, SHE CAN THROW FIREBALLS. while she's since trained her martial skills, she's just always loved magic and the feeling of power she gets from it. she also has a fascination with black magic and the void in general, something that's only grown over time as she's learned more about it. her current 'main' job is probably red mage: it combines the black magic she's mastered with some white magic she's picked up, and then combines that with her martial skills. it's quick, nimble, supportive, flashy, and a little ridiculous: just like her.

15. Which NPC are they the most similar to?

oooh this is a good one. perhaps alisaie. they're both sassy little red mages who care far too much about everyone, desperately want to make the world better by getting their hands dirty, are a little full-on and blunt at times, and often struggle to express the depth of their devotion. they would also both kill and die for the other (and alphinaud). maty's perhaps slightly more keen on the more academic endeavours than alisaie is.

8. How do they feel about the fame/infamy that comes with being a Warrior of Light/Darkness?

oh this is the question. I've talked a little about maty's struggles with her title before, but now I'm gonna take the opportunity to get detailed.

so around the end of 2.0/arr, maty's actually pretty damn happy with being the warrior of light. she struggled a little at times (the waking sands massacre shook her a little), but she bounced back and kicked ass. and she celebrates like it too: after the praetorium, she gets wildly drunk and ends up in bed with cid.

but then the red banquet happens. and everyone's gone. and it was for her. yda, papalymo, y'shtola, thancred, and minfilia are all gone to get her out. alphinaud pulls away, and no matter what she says or does, she can't seem to reach him. and she feels so alone. but she needs to be strong for alphinaud and tataru. she needs to help ishgard. she needs to be the hero they all see her as.

so she plays that hero. she is that hero in many ways: she truly believes in the causes she fights for, she will fight tooth and nail for the people of eorzea (and beyond), and there is a fierce desire to rectify injustices burning within her. she makes fun jokes! she's passionate! she's wise! she's inspiring on and off the battlefield.

but she hides all the things that don't seem very hero-like. nobody wants to see their hero cry. nobody wants to hear their doubts, their fears. nobody wants to see them out of control with rage and bloodlust. nobody wants to know they resent their position, their duties that they know they have to fulfill. nobody wants someone on a pedestal to complain that no-one truly sees them, knows them, when they're up there.

stormblood is a pretty low point for her. drawn into one war after another, pointed at enemies near and far. she knows she fights for a righteous, necessary cause and she does not regret it for a second. but there's a part of her that wonders if this is it. is her life to be nothing but death and bloodshed? 'you brought freedom to doma and ala mhigo!' they tell her. no, she thinks, I simply cut away the obstacles to let others do so. she feels herself being lost under the mantle, with her value becoming more and more what she contributes on a battlefield than in who she is. she is no longer mathilda, but the warrior of light. no, is she even that? they call her the warrior of light but they mean weapon of light.

and the worst thing is that there is some thrill in it for her. she does kind of enjoy the battles. she enjoys pushing herself to her limits and overcoming them. she enjoys feeling powerful. she enjoys being able to direct her rage, her passion. she feels true agency within the battle. the fights go how she demands them to. zenos is right when he says that they're similar in that regard, and it horrifies her. when the others all go to sing their end after the battle, she lingers behind, sits in the flowers, and tries to scrape the blood from under her fingernails.

but she calms herself, and tells herself that perhaps this is the sacrifice that she always knew she'd have to make. she figured she'd probably end up dying for this, but perhaps instead she lives. perhaps she drowns herself in blood, losing the pieces of herself to this perpetual conflict, so that they - her loved ones, her people - could sing their freedom. by shadowbringers, she's come to terms with her privilege and burden as the warrior of light. she's actually found some happiness in it, enjoying the sights she gets to see, the people she gets to see them with, and the thrills of it all. she enjoys being able to actually do something, to save people, and she's willing to play the role the world needs her to.

and that's ultimately the thing she fears most: failing in that task. failing her twins. failing her scions. failing her people. failing her world. it's why she's so fucking furious with the exarch when he summons her to the first (though maty's also an angry lil bitch in general), but also why she lets that anger go when she sees the state of the world. and it's why she actually does have a bit of breakdown at a certain point in shadowbringers.

but it also means that she kind of represses a lot of her own desires, which means a) they become an issue and easily exploited when someone taps into them (emet...), b) she needs to separate herself sometimes when they threaten to overwhelm her*, and it inadvertently hurts the people she loves the most when they notice her distance, and c) she suffers in silence, especially when it comes to feeling loss and loneliness.

* the praetorium is the last victory she genuinely celebrates. every one since has seen her disappear during the party, where she finds a quiet, solitary spot where can cry for her losses, mourn her enemies’ tragedies, and pity herself a little bit.

#mathilda fairclough #asks #usergalfrey #thinking about maty in shadowbringers and endwalker again... #her struggles and how desperately she tries to hide them #god I could write a thesis on it #thank youuuuuuuuu for this

[whitherliliesbloom]

eyes fixed upon a shiny ray

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #24 - illustrious ]

[ alphinaud/wol ] ★ [ 2,858 words ]  ★ [ aetherweave au ]

witch / wizard academy au i’ve never written for. features mintdrop’s totomi and windupdragoon’s kirishimi. mentions heirsofdiscord’s moth’ir, ancientecho’s laurelis, peachteaoni’s lily and windupnamazu’s lunya.

illustrious-  famous, well respected, and admired

asking the star student of the most prestigious magic academy in eorzea out to the end of year prom is as daunting as it sounds

“Gods, sulk all you want, but can you at least stop pacing? You’re making me dizzy.” Alisaie sighs heavily, resisting the urge to yell only because she knew full well that her voice would echo through the halls at lightning speed, and she’s already been reprimanded for noise disruptions one too many times in the past now. 

Where she sat atop the wooden desk, she glared down at her twin, who has been walking laps around the back of the classroom with his hands plastered upon his chin for the past 10 minutes now. Alisaie had hoped to spend her free period practicing Blitz Ball, but it would seem that her brother and practically the rest of the academy was far more hung up about the upcoming end of year promenade dance, and she’s close to getting sick of all the endless chatter about who everyone was going to ask out as their dance partner.

The young witch in training had about just the same amount of interest in her brother’s love life as she did history of the arcane arts, which is to say none at all. But family is family... and if Alphinaud failed in his endeavor to ask out the girl he’s had his eyes set on for the past year now, she will never hear the end of his relentless mutters.

“Just ask her directly. It’s not that hard is it?” Thancred thinks to chime in from two desks away, fiddling with his jet black wand. 

And though Alisaie wholeheartedly agrees with Thancred’s assessment, she cannot bring herself to pass up the opportunity to call him out either.

“Hah, like you’re one to talk. How long again did it take for you to ask out Moth’ir? And you’ve known for what, almost your entire life now?” 

Light banter and friendly, healthy amounts of spite is normal among their group, and Thancred seems to be unaffected by Alisaie’s words as he throws his hand up and shrugs with an unapologetic smile. 

Alphinaud doesn’t stop pacing - not until he feels a light zap of lightning strike his bare hand and jolt him out of his focus, his head turned up to look at the wide chesire grin of the transfer student who twirled his leopard patterned wand between his index and middle finger playfully. Internally, Alisaie thanks the high heavens.

“Hien!” Alphinaud’s voice is a mixture of accusatory, confused and startled, and the raven haired student could only let out a hearty laugh before leaning himself back against the wall.

“Relax! A little jolt won’t kill you.” Hien begins waving his wand recklessly in the air, no doubt asking for reprimand if a teacher were present. “Anyways.. Who’s the lucky girl who’s caught the eye of our Alphinaud here? Must be someone quite special for him to be so nervous.”

Everyone’s eyes collectively widen, now fixed upon Hien as Thancred opts to answer on behalf of his friend.

“You don’t know? It’s Illya. It’s always been Illya.”

“Mm... Sorry, the name doesn’t ring any bells.”

The silence lingers a little longer now, as the other three exchange wide eyed glances of shock between them. 

“Y-you.. you don’t know Illya?” Alphinaud sounds utterly taken aback, and Alisaie almost speaks up to remind him that not everyone would be as enamored with the star student of Aetherweave as he is. 

“The little witch of a thousand miracles? Lady of the endless garden? The viola nebula? The star blossom? The tamer of the beasts? The one who pulls down the stars and wears them under her hat?” As he listed off the top of his head some of the most famous titles that had belonged to the object of his infatuations, Hien could only hum softly in thought as a response.

“I’ve heard of a few of those titles... I didn’t think they were all referring to the same person, however. Just how many names does she go by?”

Had it been anybody else, Alisaie would have probably accuse them for living under a rock - because anyone who has studied at Aetherweave academy would certainly not go long without hearing of Illya’s name. She didn’t know a single person in the academy who has not heard of at least one of the girl’s heroic exploits with her friends. 

Hien however was a transfer student, one who came from a sister academy back in the Far East only a few months ago, and despite having settled into his new surroundings comfortably, is still not entirely aware of all the gossip and rumors that run rampant in the magical halls of Aetherweave. 

“More like.. what name doesn’t she go by.” Alisaie’s shoulder rises and falls. “Have you heard of what happened just three months ago? About the Guardian Tree at Everschade?”

“That rings a bell. It was in the process of dying but somehow magically got rejuvenated and started to bloom purple flowers, didn’t it?”

“That was her doing.”

Now, Hien’s eyes are wide in surprise, letting out an elongated whistle as he crosses his arms over his chest. 

“By the kami...”

“She was also one of the few students in the academy to have not only met but also tamed a wild wyrm. They say her new dragon friend, Midgardsormr is sitting right in her backyard.” Alphinaud adds, “Her friends and her were also the ones who were at the front of the charge in the winter of last year, defending the school when there was a surge of Sineaters coming from Lakeland.” His hand rises up to hold his chin. “Not to mention, she’s a top student. She’s consistently been in the top 5 of our year when it comes to grades. And her command over magic is praised even by grandfather himself.” 

Praise coming from Archon Louisoix himself? That certainly is something worth prestige and recognition. Rightfully impressed now, Hien’s lips turn upwards into smirk as he turns to look back at the boy. 

“Well, I can see why you’d like her. What’s the problem then, friend? Is she not easy to get along with?”

At Hien’s suggestion, Alphinaud quickly shakes his head.

“Oh, no, she’s not like that. She’s very approachable. Perhaps a bit...shy, and not very good at speaking to strangers at all, but she’s a wonderful person. Perhaps... a bit too nice, is all.”

With his response, Alphianud drops his head with a heavy sigh and casts his glance downwards onto the floor in exasperation, and it prompts Hien to hold back any further questions. He merely turns to look at Alisaie and Thancred, who can only frown and shrug respectively in silence.

It wasn’t that Alphinaud hasn’t tried to ask the girl out - he’s been trying to for months now, well before even the details of the promenade dance had been released and he saw it as a good opportunity to finally ask the girl out to be his dance partner. 

He’s tried many times, and failed spectacularly an equal amount. 

Perhaps as a result of her kindness, Illya has found herself surrounded by a group of other equally individualistic and unique friends who, in one way or another, has interrupted Alphinaud’s attempts to ask her out at least once. 

He remembers Illya’s best friend, Laurelis, a joyful miqo’te girl who was well aware of his affections for her friend and is even the most enthused out of all of Illya’s circle about helping them get together... but has also unknowingly sabotaged his attempt to ask the girl out to movie date when she’d pulled Illya to town right after school for an impromptu shopping trip.

Lunya, a sharp-tongued girl who had been in a different class from Illya had been ecstatic to find that her friend, who she would not normally get much time to study with, had opted to take the same astrology and fortune telling electives as her. And for the three months that they had been together, she would always swiftly pull Illya away from him with a protective glare. 

And Lily, who studied in the year above them and was close and dating Illya’s pseudo big-brother figure, had busied Illya with the task of tutoring her after class on how to become better at healing magicks, an endeavor that took up almost all of Illya’s spare time and he could not in good conscious ask her to abandon her close friend’s heartfelt request - especially after learning that her wish to become better at healing stemmed from an accident that Kaye had almost sustained a fatal wound for during last year’s battle against the Sineaters. 

He can no longer keep track of the number of times he’d failed in his attempts, let alone take into account his own confidence beginning to waver... but the two golden foil tickets and a pressed lily in his pocket weighs heavy, and as Tataru and Krile had so eloquently egged him on and warned him, he might not get another chance ever again if he missed this one. 

“OI! HIEN!” A loud, boisterous voice calls out, and a loud thud and an ‘oof’ from Hien sounds out, followed by a breathless chuckle as he shakes the woman who had tackled him against the wall off himself. 

“Kiri, your greetings are enthusiastic as ever, but we’re in the middle of something now.” 

“Huh?” Mismatched eyes finally turn to look at the twins and Thancred, and she lets out a nonchalant shrug. “Oh. Uh, sorry I guess. I can leave ya guys to it then.”

“No, it’s quite alright, Kirishimi.” Alphinaud smiles warmly at his senior, the tone of his voice amiable as ever. “We weren’t talking about anything important.” 

“I didn’t know you considered you not being able to ask Illya out to prom as being unimportant.” His twin sister snickers, and Alphinaud bites back an aggrieved huff. 

“Alisaie-”

“Illya?” Kirishimi’s expression lights up, ears perking as she places her hands upon her hips and gestures towards the direction of the front entrance of the school. “Speakin’ of her, I think she’s leavin’ to go on a date with someone. I saw them going down the stairs after I passed by her classroom and they were talking about uh... ‘desserts’ or something.”

“W-What? A date?” There’s panic evident in her voice, normally already fair complexion on the elezen boy rapidly paling now as he takes a step towards the taller woman. “Is...Isn’t it still in the middle of the school period?? They can’t possibly-”

“Town’s only a few minutes walk away though?” Kiri retorts with a shrug, “They’ll have plenty of time before the next module an hour later... and maybe they’ll even have time enough to work in a kiss or somethin’-”

“I-I... I have to-” Before even hearing the rest of Kirishimi’s sentence, Alphinaud finds himself bolting out of the classroom door and down the hallway towards winding flights of stairs and talking paintings, who chime out in surprise and ask a collective series of ‘where are you going?’ which goes unanswered.

Thancred turns to look at Kiri, a suspicious glint in his eye as he quirks an eyebrow out. 

“She’s not really going on a date, is she?”

Kiri merely shrugs, a mischievious smirk plastered on her face as Hien wraps a proud arm around her shoulder, an equally triumphant grin upon his face.

----------------------

By the time Alphinaud’s found himself past a few feet in front of the building, and sees a familiar curtain of swaying white hair and a tall witch hat crowned upon it walking towards the fountain in the middle of the academy square and towards the front gates of Aetherweave, he’s already rapidly short of breath and found his legs aching, his lungs gasping and burning desperately for air. 

But he doesn’t allow himself to stop- cannot allow himself to stop as he swallows back the lump in his throat and continues sprinting forwards, his voice calling out to her loudly from across the pathway.

“Illya! Illya wait!” 

He thanks the twelve when he sees the lalafellin girl stop in her tracks and turn around with a bewildered expression, her companion beside her equally startled and stopping  next to her as well - though he pays no mind to them... cannot bring himself to exert enough energy to focus on anyone other than Illya. 

It isn’t until he gets closer to the pair, sweat trickling down his brow, his chest heaving as he pants for air heavily and his hands gripping onto his knees as he lurches forward does he finally recognize just who the mysterious student that Illya has decided to go on a ‘date’ with.

“W-wait.... wait a minute..” Alphinaud mutters in between huffs and sharp inhales, navy blue eyes staring down at a lalafellin with familiar straight cut bangs and ruby red eyes. “M-m.... Mint?!” 

Mint.... is Illya’s date? The genki self-proclaimed witch idol peppermint?? Who also happens to be dating his friend Estinien??? She’s who Kirishimi tricked him into thinking was Illya’s date?!

“Whaddya want Alphinaud??” Peppermint lets out a huff and a pout, seemingly unconcerned at his haggard state as she crosses her arms over her chests. “Illya promised to get cream puffs with me during our break time. If you wanna have some, you’ll have to get in line!”

“W-what...? That’s not...”

Twelve forfend... He’s been deceived utterly and completely... He’d like to think he would be a bit more perceptive and intuitive enough to know when he’s being lied to or played but... it would seem like all sense of rationality of his flies out the window when it comes to Illya.

The girl in question merely gazes up at him with concern swirling in her lustrous violet eyes as she tightens her hold on the book she had been holding close to her chest. 

“A-are you okay, Alphinaud?”

The worry in Illya’s voice urges Alphinaud to quickly swallow and give her a nod, a reassuring smile gracing his features despite his drained complexion.

“I’m... I’m quite alright. Thank you, Illya.” 

His heart skips a beat when his smile is mirrored by her, and the radiance of her presence is almost enough to leave him dumb and speechless until she speaks up once more to question him.

“Did you need something from me? You seemed like you were in a hurry-”

Oh seven hells... how is he going to explain his way out of this now? He could make perfectly reasonable and well timed excuses for his other failed attempts... and he could just as easily lie to her and say that it was nothing now... 

But he knows not only would that arouse suspicion, especially with someone as perceptive to people’s lies and intentions as Illya was... but it’d perhaps put her on edge around him in the future. 

And though he’d have liked to invite Illya to prom in private and free of an audience member consisting of someone from her circle of friends, he’s already made a right fool of himself and caused a scene between them.... So to hide away or run from the situation would be...

With a defeated sigh, Alphinaud fishes out one of the tickets from his uniform pocket and holds it out to the girl with trembling fingers, watching in anticipation as her own starspangled eyes widen in shock. 

“I-I.... I just wanted to ask... If you would perhaps like to go to prom with me?”

The normally talkative Mint is now completely silent, holding back impish cheers and laughter as she merely steps back to pump her fist in the air, leaving Illya on her lonesome as a heat quickly spreads across the girl’s fair cheeks and reddens the bridge of her nose. 

It doesn’t take much thought at all for Illya to raise a hand up to take the ticket from him, gazing down thoughtfully at the reflective golden foil and the silver letterings etched into the shimmering surface until she finally remembers to nod in answer.

“Um... Y-yes... I would love to-”

---------

Illya is grateful that nobody else other than Mint had been around to bear witness to what happened, or she’d be certain that the whole school would be privvy to the gossip before sundown. 

Mint’s teasing and chattering is enough on it’s own to deal with, as the girl cheerily munches into her cream puff and speaks in a hushed tone to the violet eyed girl on the other side of the table. 

“I’m so glad for you, Illya! Now you don’t have to worry at all!”

“Y-yeah... I-I suppose so..” The heat from Illya’s cheeks hasn’t dissipated, and she stares into the reflection of the warm milk tea in her hands. “B-but.. what am I supposed to do with the love letter? I’ve been working on it for weeks and now-”

Mint pauses for a moment, cheeks puffed up and full of food as she continues to chew and darts her eyes up to the white ceiling in thought.

“Hm... Well you can still give it to him! Maybe during the prom or something? I’m sure he’ll appreciate it very much!”

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #kiwisffxivwrite2021 #alphinaud leveilleur #alphinaud #illya skawi #peppermint #kirishimi #fanfic #mine #aetherweave academy au #OH LOOK A FILL FOR AN AU I'VE BARELY TALKED ABOUT AGAIN #we've come so far #the title is lyrics from shiny ray by yurika! #which is little witch academia's OP

[eremiss]

12: Tooth and Nail

(light cw: descriptions of post-fight injuries and being poisoned/drugged. Takes place during Post-HVW MSQ “Consequences”)

Ten minutes, Thancred had said. Ten minutes for Gwen to try and wait out the lingering symptoms of the poison she’d been dosed with, make sure Falcon’s Nest wouldn’t fall apart in their absence, and try to find Honoroit --”If you truly must.”-- then they were heading back to Ishgard to deliver the news of the disastrous Conference. His tone had brooked no room for argument.

She took extra care to mind the time, as being late would likely have Thancred assuming the worst. They’d already had quite enough excitement for one day and she had no desire to add to it, plus his mood was already poor enough.

Ten fruitless minutes later Gwen trudges up the ramp to the landing platform, shoulders hunched and spirits low. The garrison’s morale is understandably poor and there’s naught to be done about it, though it seems her departure isn’t cause for it to deteriorate further. There was no sign of Honoroit anywhere, and the people she’d spoken with hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him.

Her stomach rolls and twists, a weak, nauseous ache permeating her limbs that shivers up her throat whenever she moves too quickly. She’d retched up the tainted wine the moment she was able, but it had plainly been in her system long enough for its effects to linger. 

If I knew what was in it, I could maybe try and counteract it somehow… But she doesn’t, and the woman who does is likely dead.

The landing platform is deserted and quiet, the chocobo stables practically empty compared to when she’d arrived. Apparently she’s the one that has to wait for Thancred for a change.

Whoever is supposed to be on watch has abandoned their duty for the moment, and no one around to see her wander past the gates. The wind is faster and sharper without buildings or mountains to block it, cutting through her outer layers and straight down to her bones. She shivers harshly and crosses her arms tightly across her chest as her bangs whip her face and her ears burn themselves numb, missing the sweltering heat of the barracks. At least the sharp chill doesn’t make her feel ill.

Gwen sweeps her eyes across the empty platform, wondering where Honoroit could have gone, and what he might’ve been thinking. There’s no way he just up and abandoned Emmanellain, surely? He’s stuck to his master’s side like glue through everything until now. He couldn’t possibly…

There’s a lump on the far side of the platform. A small figure with brown hair dressed in familiar blue and white garb. It looks sort of like--

Her heart leaps into her throat. “Honoroit?”

He twitches and raises his head, peering blankly at her as she rushes over to him. “M-Miss Ashe?” he croaks, confused. 

“Hush, hush, don’t talk,” she chides gently, panic and worry tightening like vices around in her chest as she kneels to inspect his wounds. 

Bruises are splattered across every ilm of bare skin, and his clothes are torn and dirtied with patterns that distinctly resemble boot prints. His face is mostly black and blue with a nasty cut over his brow and on his lips, one of his eyes swollen nearly shut. 

Honoroit tries to sit up, slow and careful as he shifts his weight and favors his right side. He only makes it halfway before he grimaces and sinks back to the ground with a pained sound. 

A fresh surge of concern mutes the dismayed, impotent static buzzing through her thoughts. Questions and anger can wait. She lays a light, comforting hand on his arm and hopes she isn’t touching a sore spot. “Be still, Honoroit...”

He needs to get somewhere warm, first of all, as his lips are distressingly blue. Ideally that will be somewhere with a healer, as her initial assessment of his injuries isn’t good. Even natives of Ishgard aren’t immune to the cold, and she has no idea how long he’s been out here lying on frozen stone. But how to move him without worsening his injuries....

“Honoroit!!” Emmanellain’s distraught voice cries from behind her.

She lifts her head as two sets of footsteps rapidly approach, the nobleman making panicked sounds every step of the way with Thancred, expression grim, just behind him. 

When Emmanellain is finally able to see the extent of Honoroit’s injuries his face twists with horror and he drops to his knees by Gwen’s side. “No, no! What have they done to you!?” 

He reaches towards Honoroit, and Gwen puts an arm in his way. He whirls on her, his stricken glare demanding an explanation.

She tries to appear calmer than she feels and makes a mollifying gesture, shaking her head. You shouldn’t move him.

A wash of different emotions twist Emmanellains face one way and then another, and he looks like he has half a mind to shout at her. Instead he makes an aggravated, high-pitched whining sound and slaps his hands down on the stone ground.

“Is that you, my lord?” Honoroit offers a feeble smile and struggles for a light tone, as if making a jest, “You... you seem rather flustered.”

“Because of you, you imbecile!” Emmanellain exclaims, “What in the seven hells happened to you!?” 

“My… my apologies… Some few of the guests expressed a wish to leave...and I implored them to stay.” He makes a weak imitation of a laugh, “It would seem they took issue with my request.”

Rings would explain the small cuts and abrasions in the bruises on his face... 

Gwen’s stomach lurches in a way that has nothing to do with the poison she’d been dosed with. All of her worried thoughts take on a frazzled, angry edge that wears at her already thinned nerves. A twinge in her clenched jaw and a telltale ache shooting from her teeth to her temples signal that she successfully kicked off a headache.

“Gods forgive me…” Emmanellain groans, burying his face in his hands. “If I had only been more careful with my words!”

“Do not blame yourself my lord,” the younger elezen insists. “I know… I know that you and your brother have Ishgard’s best interests at heart. That poor woman… She lives in the past, clinging to memories of the lost.”

He’s admirably composed considering everything that’s happened, even accounting for the fact he’s generally more mature and levelheaded than his master. Empathy for the dissidents and protesters has only made his conviction for Aymeric’s cause that much stronger.  

“But the future holds so much promise. So much joy. And you…” His voice wavers and Gwen tenses, her heart skipping a beat. “You... know that better than any…” His words fade to nothing and his eyes slip closed. Then his head lolls to his chest.

Gwen immediately checks his pulse. It’s steady, thank the Twelve, as is his labored breathing, but his complexion has gone frighteningly pale. 

“Honoroit?!” Emmanellain half rises, panicked. His mouth works uselessly for a moment before he turns his fearful eyes on Gwen, “Gwen, do something!” 

Her chest constricts sharply and she freezes

Ever since the Vault she can’t...

Couldn’t, a small voice corrects. Y’shtola has been tutoring her for more than a moon, and she’s made enough progress that she’s begun regaining the ability to use healing magic. It’s feeble and terribly taxing, a far cry from the white and red magic she used to wield, but she can manage it. As she is now, weakened by that poison and with a fresh host of doubts welling up and knotting in her chest...

But Honoroit needs help. And she can help, at least minorly.

She bites her lip, voices she’ll never hear again murmuring at her in time with her heartbeat. One rings out louder than the others, gentle despite the volume.

For those we have lost. For those we can yet save.

She can’t fully mend his wounds, but she can at least ease his pain. No matter what her clinging doubts try to mutter, she knows she can do something. Not much, maybe, but not nothing, and that’s enough. It has to be. However draining it is on her, she’ll manage. She’s had worse, after all, and she can rest and recover once they’re back in Ishgard. For now... She has to at least try. 

Gwen takes a steadying breath and makes a clear place in her mind before holding a hand over Honoroit’s chest. She closes her eyes and breathes, gathering her focus and recalling Y’shtola’s patient instructions, replaying the simple exercises they’d practiced for bells. When it all feels solid enough to work with, she begins to mumble an incantation.

As the spell takes shape a weak light flickers to life under her hand, drifting over Honoroit like mist. She senses bruises of all shapes and sizes, cuts, cracked bones... no internal bleeding or anything blatantly life-threatening, at least. It’s an issue of quantity, the sheer multitude of otherwise-lesser injuries amounting to something more severe. 

With the injuries assessed, she shifts her intention to healing. Immediately the spell begins to pull at her in earnest, drawing out her energy and replacing it with intangible weight that begins to pile on her shoulders.

Even a layman could tell that her conjury is that of a novice, at best. But, feeble as it is, it’s still enough to slowly mend cracked bones and knit broken skin, and the cuts on his lips and brow gradually close. Hopefully he’ll be able to rest a little easier.

She knows it won’t be long before fatigue settles in, but hopefully Thancred and Duskfeather will make sure she at least gets back to Ishgard before she falls asleep on her feet. Her head is still pounding a dull rhythm, and she’s sure it will likely start to worsen soon, too. It’s fine… So long as the spell is working, it’s fine.

“He’ll live, but it’s imperative we get him inside and into the care of a chirurgeon once he’s stable,” Thancred says calmly. With any luck his steady composure will help Emmanellain pull himself together. “Gwen can only do so much.”

“Only so much?!” Emmanellain demands shrilly.

Gwen winces, squeezing her eyes more tightly shut against the kick of doubt and frustration that tries to crack her barely-solidified concentration. She screws up her mouth and works to ignore that, too.

Thancred’s tone hardens, “It’s a sight more than either of us can offer, unless you have knowledge of conjury that you’ve been keeping secret.”

Emmanellain struggles for a response, half syllables coming out one after another before he settles for an angry hiss. “Gah! We were so close! Why does it all have to fall to pieces!? Don’t they want to live in peace!? Don’t they want to be happy!? We all want the same thing, and still-- STILL it falls to pieces!”

The words buzz in her ears like stinging bugs, the volume piercing her focus. Suddenly she can feel sweat gathering on the back of her neck despite the wintry chill, and the edges of her vision are doing strange things. 

“Tell me, what--what was I supposed to do, hm?!” He demands, a desperate, petulant twinge cracking his voice. 

She can feel the way each throb of her head rattles the focus she’d worked so hard to gather, pain and exertion freely jostling her thoughts. 

He stomps his foot furiously, “Someone, anyone, tell me: what was I supposed to do!?” 

Her vision warps and her headache throbs in her teeth. The spell unravels in her thoughts and on her tongue, and she abandons the incantation with a pained groan. 

It’s hard enough to heal Honoroit between her struggles with conjury, the headache, and the lingering symptoms of poison, and now Emannelain is making it all worse by yelling. 

She drops her head into her hands and gulps steadying breaths, fingers icy and numb against her pounding head. Stop being dizzy, stop being dizzy... She isn’t sure if it’s her numbed fingers or a genuine fever making her skin so hot to the touch, but the sheen of sweat suggests the latter.

His voice cracks with panic when he realizes she’s stopped her healing spell. “What are you doing?! Don’t stop!”

The Banquet, the Vault, Azys Lla, the Antitower, faces she’ll never see again, and too many other godsamned things shove up up against the inside of her skull until her head feels like it’s going to split in two.

All at once her throat itches with a stifled scream, her eyes sting and her chest aches like she sprinted for malms without stopping.

She doesn’t know what she should do, what she wants to do, but her nerves are bristling, her heart is pounding, and her body is thrumming with desperate, impotent fury, and she’s so sick and tired of losing people, of failing, of being so useless-- of-- of--

A hand clamps on her shoulder and gives one firm shake.

Her thoughts upend and crash back to the earth, abruptly deflating and crumbling into splinters and shards.

“Breathe.”

She sucks in a mouthful of wintry air and chokes on the cold. After a few tries she catches her breath enough to loosen some of the knots in her chest. When did she start holding her breath...?

Gwen’s head is still a litlte woozy as she looks up. Thancred is leaning over her, his mouth set in a firm grimace and his expression woodenly calm. He twitches his head towards Honoroit, Focus. Heal him.  

The tide of anger and adrenaline passes as quickly as it came, taking the dizzy spell and a modicum of her headache with it. Gwen wipes the sting out of her eyes in place of shaking her head, pushing away the briars and splinters clinging to the inside of her head. She’s no less overwhelmed than she had been a minute ago, but she’s pushed off the worst of it for the moment. That’s good enough.

Thancred releases her shoulder, straightens and turns to face Emmanellain. The nobleman is being surprisingly quiet, perhaps realizing he’d overstepped.

She counts the breaths hissing between her teeth and grasps for calm, pushing her shoulders down and trying to clear her mind. The sight of Honoroit, battered and unconcious, is sobering enough to quell the last simmering strains of irritation and get her mind back in line again.

She closes her eyes and re-gathers her focus through the haze of her headache, trying to ignore the briefly-forgotten fatigue that’s still hanging on her shoulders. Twelve but white magic is so much more taxing than it had ever been--than it should be.

Gwen rests her hand on Honoroit’s chest to center herself and stubbornly, purposefully mumbles the incantation over and over until the sounds and shapes of the words hollow out a big enough place to hold her concentration. 

Emmanellain speaks, “Well? If you have something to say, say it!”

The spell takes shape again, magic trickling from her into Honoroit and flowing out to the worst injuries yet in need of attention. She can feel that the spell is weaker than before, that it’s working more slowly, but it’s still helping. That’s what matters.  

Thancred’s voice is hard and flat, scolding, “Stop looking to others. You make your choice and you live with the consequences.”

There’s brief sputtering followed by a few harsh, seething breaths.

Suddenly there’s a short, hard impact. Instinct identifies the sound before her mind can: a punch.

“And what would you know about consequences!?” Emmanellain spits bitterly. “You, who always knows just what to say and just what to do! Your every deed is greeted with a round of applause!”

Gwen winces away from the words, bitterly wondering how fate’s timing could be so spectacularly terrible. There couldn’t be a worse time for such perfectly aimed words. Matoya’s cave and the Antitower are scarcely a sennight behind them. People claim fate likes to ‘jest’, and apparently its sense of humor is twisted and cruel. 

All at once the air grows close and heavy, bristling with energy like the calm before a storm. Apprehension tightens across her back and she catches the inside of her cheek in her teeth, worrying thoughtlessly at it. It is much too quiet...

A much louder, harder impact rings out, more like a thunderclap than a drumbeat. 

Emmanellain’s yelp of pain is abruptly cut off by the heavy, metallic thud of a chainmailed body hitting stone ground.

Thancred’s voice is low and furious, the point of a knife sinking home. “You know nothing about me. I have fought tooth and nail for the people I hold dear-- done everything in my power to save them, to protect them...and I have failed.” A beat of silence filled with a harsh breath, “Learn to live with it. I have.”

A heavy feeling settles in her stomach, apprehension morphing into worry that convinces her turn her head. She opens her eyes and peeks over her shoulder, keeping the majority of her focus on her tenuous spell. 

Thancred is standing over Emmanellain with a face like a thunderstorm, fists clenched tight at his sides. Emmanellain stares silently up at him, frozen in shock. 

Thancred seems unharmed, while one side of Emmanellain’s face is rapidly darkening and his jaw is hanging at a slightly awkward angle that suggests it might be broken. 

Gwen has never heard Thancred so furious before. She’s never seen him snap. He spat those words like curses, like they’re a burden he’s suffered and agonized over for ages without reprieve. They speak of a kind of deep ache and near-hateful sort of guilt that Gwen is much too familiar with. 

Thancred turns brusquely on his heel and storms away in silence. 

Gwen avoids Emmanellain’s gaze and turns back to Honoroit. 

She immediately resolves to talk to him, but not until he’s had time to cool off and settle out. She’ll do what she can for Honoroit first, then she’ll go after him.

Gwen is more than a little wobbly on her feet as she staggers back down the ramp into Falcon’s Nest. Her vision is behaving itself, but her head is throbbing, her legs are weak, and her stomach is refusing to settle down. 

Though it took entirely too much effort, she still finds no small amount of satisfaction in successfully managing healing magic again. She’s improving, slowly but surely.

Casting her eyes around the open square turns up nothing, and she rubs at her heavy eyelids with a pout. She’ll have to go searching, then. But where to start? On a whim, she turns for the barracks.

She finds Thancred in an out-of-the way spot a stone’s throw from where she’d hidden earlier to purge the tainted wine from her system and wait for her grasp on conciousness to solidify. He’s leaning against the wall and radiating the air of a man better left alone, arms crossed tightly across his chest and a stony glower on his face. 

He glances up as she approaches, shrewdly scrutinizing the rhythm of her steps and the way she’s carrying herself.

Concern, discomfort and reemourse coil around her chest and tie knots in her head, images of Matoya’s cave flitting past her vision. She takes a slow breath, feeling a bit like she’s readying to try more healing magic.

Mourning and grief do crazy things to people, and no one handles it the same. Gwen knows that. She withdraws, physically and mentally, growing hollow and distant and numb. She wilts and shrinks, always drained and slow as if she’s wrapped in a layer of lead that separates her from the world, trying to insulate and protect herself. She hasn’t yet mastered pulling herself out of it, but she’s always --eventually-- managed it with the help of her friends.

Thancred closes himself off and binds himself to his mistakes, as if not forgiving himself for them means he won’t make them again. He pushes others away and walls himself in with his hurt, treating it as a lesson to be learned rather than a wound to mend. It lies just beneath the surface and drives him to lash out when it grows too painful to hold, like on the landing platform, and over time it sinks into him, a weight he carries that he never speaks of or shows even as it changes him.

But...

It’s not that Gwen thinks he doesn’t have the right to his misery or grief, especially after losing someone so dear as Minfili. The events of the Antitower are barely behind them. Of course he’s still hurting and struggling with all of it. 

It’s how he’s handling it--or rather, not handling it, and what it’s doing to him that she’s worried about. He’s hurting. He’s insisting on struggling alone, on holding everything in and carrying it with him, like he did after being freed from Lahabrea, and refusing to allow it to rest.

It’s too soon to really begin healing, maybe, but not so much that she can’t remind him that he isn’t alone.

Gwen stops in front of him, just out of arm's reach. Her limbs are heavy, her head is throbbing and her stomach is shifting unpleasantly, but she does her best to keep her discomfort to herself. She settles her weight on her feet and regards him with a concerned and placidly questioning look. What was that back there? 

They stand in silence, simply looking at one another and waiting. 

Thancred’s expression loses a smidgen of its harshness, though otherwise remains flat. Gwen loosely folds her arms against the chill, chewing the inside of her lip and worrying the sleeves of her coat between her fingers. She can wait for as long as she needs to.

Thancred shifts against the wall and sharply turns his head, putting the black wrap of cloth towards her. A dismissal, most likely. He doesn’t want to talk, he doesn’t want sympathy and, more than that, he doesn’t want her there. It stings, even as she corrects herself that he likely wants to be left alone to brood and doesn’t want anyone around.

Blue and purple are creeping out from beneath the edge of the cloth. The evidence of Emmanellain’s punch.

Gwen shifts her weight, numb fingers prickling as they slowly warm, her teeth sharp against the inside of her cheek. Then she takes one slow, somewhat cautious step forward.

Thancred tenses but doesn’t move, clinging to the hope she’ll go away if he ignores her long enough.

She takes another step and comes to a stop, now well within arm’s reach. She cautiously lifts a hand towards his face.

The motion makes him twitch and he jerks his head back around. She pulls her hand back in time to avoid colliding with his bruised cheek.

His expression is guarded as he glowers at her, a hint of incredulity and impatience tugging at his mouth while his eye is sharp. There’s a feeling tense expectation hanging about him that has a definite, bristling edge to it. He’s braced for a reprimand or a lecture, and is plenty ready to retaliate and start an argument. In fact, he almost looks like he’s hoping for an excuse to do just that.

Gwen gives him nothing of the sort, regarding him with a calm, weary look. She tentatively moves her hand towards his bruised cheek again, carefully studying his reaction.

He allows it, watching her like a hawk.

She stops short of touching his bandana, fingertips hovering just beside his cheek. She focuses on the back of her hand and scrounges up the last onzes of her energy for just one more small conjury spell.  

Thancred’s jaw shifts beneath her hand, his shoulders tightening and lifting like he’s getting his hackles up.

A somewhat tenuous whisper of soothing magic ripples out of her fingers and flows across his skin. The effort leaves her feeling a bit like she stood up too quickly, but she sets her jaw and keeps at it. The fringe of blue and black begins to gradually soften and melt away, shrinking back beneath the edge of his bandana.

After a few slow, drawn out seconds his jaw flexes and he lets out a long, slow exhale that sounds distinctly like resignation. A bit of tension bleeds out of his posture and his shoulders begin to slowly sink back down. 

Thancred’s expression gradually smooths out, angry sparks fading and antagonistic edge dulling. Eventually it settles into the dour, brooding look she’s more accustomed to.

His jaw tenses up, relaxes just enough to shift, then tenses again. She imagines the sound of his teeth grinding.

He turns his head ever so slightly, just enough that his cheek barely connects with the pads of her fingers. He takes a few careful breaths and closes his eye, brow not quite furrowed. There’s an air of resigned expectation to his silence and the passing seconds, as if he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Gwen doesn’t say a word, maintaining their slight connection and not pushing for more. He’s free to pull away, or to lean in. He’s free to talk, or not. 

At length his eye opens again, and he looks a great deal calmer and more composed. “...I may have overreacted.” His voice is quiet but unapologetic, as flat as his mouth. “But it needed to be done. He was becoming hysterical.” 

Gwen tilts her head a little, acquiescing the point. Thancred’s reaction wasn’t appropriate, no, and it was worryingly unlike him, but it was… understandable. Emmanellain is the one who threw the first punch, in all fairness, and he’d been doing a spectacular job of hitting their sore spots before that. She doesn’t blame the young nobleman for his frustration or whatever else he’s feeling, but that doesn’t mean she’s willing to listen to him rant whilst trying to heal his manservant.

Thancred takes another long breath, gaze drifting slowly over the stones around them. Eventually the silence urges him to speak again, “I understand the desire to look for reasons. For excuses. To convince yourself you had no choice. But the past is the past, and there is naught to be gained from reliving your mistakes.” 

His tone has a heavy undercurrent of repetition to it, as though he was reciting words he was tired of hearing. Yet the words make his frown turn pensive, if a little wrinkled with bitterness, in a way that makes her think he’s yet working to fully process that statement himself. 

Gwen tilts her head the other way, giving him a meaningful look. Are you telling me this? Or yourself?

“I know this,” Thancred insists immediately. “I know this.” His expression tightens, almost slipping into a grimace, and his eye drops back to the ground, “But he…” 

He he huffs a sharp, frustrated breath and shifts moodily against the wall. He makes a point to keep his head still, maintaining their tentative connection.

She wonders how much striking Emmanellain made him realize the extent to which everything is affecting him.

Baby steps. Healing takes time. Understanding and overcoming one’s frustrations with themselves is a long road, and acknowledging them in the first place is the first step. He’s taken a step in the right direction. Hopefully.

Gwen can senses his cheek isn’t quite healed, but reluctantly admits she’s too spent to finish the job. She still has to fly to Ishgard and deliver the report to Aymeric, after all. And with her luck she’ll likely have more to endure after that, too, poison be damned.

She lets the spell peter out with a weary sigh, letting her hand linger for a few more seconds before dropping it back to her side. 

Thancred takes a long moment to look her over again, bluntly studying her face and the way she’s holding herself. "You look hellish.”

Gwen’s lips twitch with a hint of a smile. No one is around, they’re alone and in private for the moment, so she reaches out to brush the tips of her fingers along his knuckles. 

He watches, not quite impassively.

As her hand withdraws his turns, slowly as if it’s half-frozen. He curls his fingers just enough for the tips of hers to catch on his. 

It’s surprising how steadying such a small thing can be. 

Less than a breath later he lets hers drop. He shoulders himself off the wall and straightens up with a bit of muttering, brushing off his clothes. “Get your bird and let us away. We’ve important matters to attend to in Ishgard, and have kept the Lord Commander waiting entirely too long already. The lordling can arrange his return on his own time.”

--------------------

Tooth and nail - adverb with all one's resources or energy; fiercely

Oy vey @_@ this FFXIVWrite is really kicking my butt.

This is the first, and only, idea that sprung to mind when I saw the prompt. This part was so intense, and the conference just felt like the latest thing in the long list of “everything is going wrong fuuuuuu” @_@ I need to write more about this particular time in Post-HVW

#ffxivwrite2020 #Guinevere Ashe #Thancred Waters #Thancred x WoL #Gwencred #Post-Heavensward #Dragonsong War #My Writing #UGH MY BRAIN #god when he punched Emmanellain @_@ #I was like 'oohhhh shit o.o... Uh Thancred? You good my guy?'

[efrmellifer]

Eternal Devotion

I still think Squeenix would be so rich it’d be like printing their own money if they let us marry NPCs

Aymeric hadn’t known how to bring it up when Etien had greeted him at the door, so now he had this fact, this funny little anecdote, to share with her just hidden under his tongue.

But it didn’t dissolve; it burned there, waiting for him to spit it out and tell her.

And yet, he was nervous to. There were so few things he had ever hesitated to tell her—perhaps that he loved her, at first. But that was only for the sake of Ishgard. She was a busy woman, and the last thing she had needed to be dealing with when she was flying off for Azys Lla was carrying around the feelings of the Lord Commander whom she barely even saw.

Hells, he would have expected her to have fallen for Estinien at that rate—well, she had, but he meant to the exclusion of himself.

In any event. That had been more about Aymeric denying himself the relief of sharing the burden of his feelings, for the betterment of his nation and the well-being of its savior. This, on the other hand, was intimately personal.

And frankly, all the more frustrating because of it.

“Etien?” he said finally, placing aside his fork and clearing his throat while he waited.

She looked up, letting her wrist hang limp, then putting down her fork and knife as well. She took a sip of water, then looked him in the eyes, eyebrows lifted. “Yes?”

“I had a—ahem. I came across something of an unfortunate discovery while I was consulting with the Sultana and the Elder Seedseer today.”

Etien tipped her head. “Just them? So Merlwyb didn’t attend your meeting?”

“No, she was attempting to handle part of the very problem we were butting up against.”

“Interesting. And what problem was such that it seemingly stumped the Alliance’s leaders?” She paused. “Or, well, I assume it did.”

“You would be correct, loath though I am to admit it.”

Etien scooted her chair closer to the table, leaning in. “Ooh, that’s even more intriguing.”

“Well, I doubt you’ll like it when I actually reveal the issue—the Alliance hasn’t been properly processing incoming paperwork.”

She sat back, sighing. “More paper-pushing?” Her expression shifted to mild shock as a realization came over her. “Wait. Aymeric. You didn’t agree to take on more, did you?”

“No.” Still, he looked away, swirling his wine before bringing it to his lips.

When he put the goblet down, it was to see Etien with her hands folded below her chin, supporting her re-tilted head. He could practically see the halo of innocent ignorance floating there between her perked ears.

So Aymeric heaved a sigh and told her. “Most of the paperwork that was improperly run through and promptly mislaid was coming from Ishgard and Ala Mhigo. We were still too new to the alliance to add more to the workloads of those poor scribes, but after the victorious Ala Mhigan liberation, then the loss of the Scions and then the battles with Garlemald… things slipped into the cracks and disappeared.”

“Oh no,” she murmured, listening intently now.

“It gets worse. Do you remember what events happened between the removal of Imperial forces from the Ala Mhigan Quarter and the fighting at Ghimlyt?”

She counted on her fingers. “There was the drowned city, we had the wedding and our honeymoon, there were all those meetings with Hien to get Doma involved with us again, Thancred fainted, I explored the Burn and Gaius showed up with Alphinaud… yes? Why?”

“Well, we still have our Ishgardian marriage certificate, at least.”

Etien’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, no. That’s not funny.”

“If I were telling you a joke, it would be,” Aymeric replied, taking up his fork again.

“Are we not married?” she hissed, whispering as if it were going to start a scandal.

“We are. But Greater Eorzea has no record of it.” He took another sip of wine.

“Other than the hearsay,” Etien snorted. “Among other bits of physical evidence.”

That got Aymeric to laugh, and so they sat in shocked, giggling quiet for a long while.

Finally, the silence was broken with a question. Etien wasn’t usually the one to ask it—normally, she was the one having to enact whatever the answer was, but this time she would ask it and be part of its solution.

“So what do we do now?”

“Well,” it came light and airy, “one of us could marry Estinien, and we can effectively commit legal bigamy. But that would hardly be fair to whichever of us got left without an extra spouse. So I suppose our course is clear: we get married a third time. That is, of course, unless you’ve changed your mind and won’t have me?”

From the moment had Aymeric said that, a softness came into Etien’s eyes. It was hard to read at first, but he’d been looking at her for a while now in their shared life (he enjoyed it, in fact), and he managed to sift through the layers with a little extra looking. There was a sort of sadness—he could almost hear the teary huff, the very idea, that after I’ve loved you so long, I could even think of backing out—and there was a touch of mirth. It was funny, he knew it. And there was one more very clear element to it, one that was easy to pick out because of how often he saw it. Love. There was so much love in Etien’s expression that he could have drowned in it.

But he didn’t have time to drown, nor even to swim, because then she spoke.

“If you’ll have a silly little bard for a bride, I’ll have you for my bridegroom even if we have to do this a thousand times.”

Aymeric rose from the table, their dinner utterly abandoned with the advent of this piece of news, and came to Etien’s chair.

“A thousand is a little excessive. It does get expensive after a while.”

She giggled, her hand lifting to cover her mouth.

He took it, kissing just past her fingernails. “Marry me, Etien Felis Regina Mellifer. Again.”

“I will.”

“What a pity I didn’t have a ring the first time I proposed, and I certainly didn’t prepare another one for this occasion.”

With minimal struggling, Etien removed the chain from around her neck, slipping her wedding ring off the end. For a second, they both looked at the glint of the silver and the sapphire in the firelight, then, she handed it over. “We only need the one.”

He slid it onto her finger, and it fit just as naturally as it had the first time it had been placed there.

“I swear, it could have been made for you,” Aymeric mused as they admired the ring in its place for a moment.

Etien put it back on the chain and around her neck again, settled with a locket from Estinien, a purple shell charm, and her mark of Llymlaen. “As long as it’s found its place.” She took hold of his shirt to bring him closer. “Can I kiss you?”

“I would be more than a little upset if you didn’t.”

“Well, we simply can’t have that,” she purred, smiling against his lips as they met hers.

_

In much an echo of the first time, they made their way to the Sanctum of the Twelve with Artoirel and Lucia in tow to witness the second affirmation of their union.

Of course, the Elder Seedseer came along, too, to make sure that the paperwork went directly to be filed, for a whole host of reasons ranging from Alliance leadership needing to set an example to the Sanctum gearing up for a busy season as spring started to wash over the Black Shroud.

Aiming for some degree of accuracy to the usual protocol, Etien had acquired a gown in a starkly white hue—and only white, missing the accents of pink and black that had been part of her other wedding dress. Aymeric wore the same tuxedo he had before, and looked just as good in it a second time.

It was a short ceremony, with no one there to throw flowers, open sparkling wine (not that the bride could have had any anyway), or cry into their handkerchief. And so they were ushered out into the bright day in what felt like less than a bell.

Before they could mount the chocobo waiting for them—but after Etien’s shout of recognition, being able to call the bird by name—he pulled her close.

“It’s a shame that I never get to do this until we make it outside.”

“Do what?” she asked, blinking up at him.

“Brace yourself.”

She gripped his shoulders, and he dipped her low for a kiss. “That. I’ve wanted to since the ceremony was coming to its end.”

“The kiss makes it official?” she asked as he helped her up and onto their mount (Vittelina, Etien had cried).

“Official, no. Complete, I think so,” he added as he settled onto the saddle.

She kissed him again as Vittelina began plodding forward. “I wholeheartedly agree. You should do that more often.”

“I fear I’d make you dizzy.”

“Your kisses certainly can have that effect.”

“Etien,” he scoffed.

“Aymeric,” she cooed. “Darling husband, thrice over.”

His feigned offense at the joke melted completely. He laid his hand over hers on the saddle. “My dearest wife.”

#Aytien #fic #okay before you judge me I did this for three reasons: #1. I think the 'oops we aren't actually married' trope is funny #2. I really like weddings actually. and writing Aytien fluff #3. I got to reference their proposals from so long ago #I thought it was cute and indulgled myself a lottle #I hope you enjoy too c:

[allycryz]

WOL Challenge #4: Outrage

[Prompt List Here]

[Filled Prompt List Here]

Haurchefant-focused so not entering/tagging, spoilers for HW and start of ShB

Pairings:  Mild Estinien x Haurchefant, Background Haurchefant x Nerys and Haurchefant x Urianger

Rating: G

Summary: Snapshots in Haurchefant’s journey from Knight to Emissary 

Mild warnings for other knights taunting him over his parentage

"Next time, I shall fetch our drinks." Haurchefant says, watching Aymeric's slow progress across the floor. Each time he is about to break free and return to their table, someone else hails him. And he cannot help but exchange pleasantries. Darling, infuriating man.

"You are as bad as he," Estinien mutters. "Worse even, because you might abandon us for a pretty smile."

"I would never abandon my friends so!" Haurchefant wears mock indignation to cover his actual indignation. He would never be so rude.

He would at least deliver the drinks before being led away by the pretty smile. 

"Politicians both of you," Estinien says. "I do not understand how you know all these people."

"Me? Perish the thought." Haurchefant waves a hand. "I am simply interested in everyone. That is different."

"Hm." Estinien continues to glower. Irritated that of the two friends he has allowed himself to make, one has abandoned them. Haurchefant has tried to remedy that but Estinien is resistant to more connections. Stubborn, darling man.

"Really," he continues. "Give me a blade and shield over politicking. Besides, they are subject to all sorts of scrutiny and I have had enough of that, thank you."

"Fair. You would not like being so circumspect."

"One of these days..." Haurchefant grins. "You are going to learn how not to insult people so often."

"What? How was that an insult?"

"I’m not offended so never you mind. Is the scrutiny why you haven't seduced Aymeric yet?"

At that, the tips of Estinien's ears turn red. "Never you mind that. It is as likely as you becoming a politician."

"On that you are utterly wrong." Haurchefant shakes his head. "He will end up in your bed by year's end but I will always be a knight."

--

The day he becomes a true knight is the day he swears himself to Ishgard, before Blessed Halone, before the other knights and nobility and his family. To serve his country and The Fury for the rest of his life. To uphold the laws of Ishgard. To protect the weak and defenseless. To serve the Fury’s chosen including the Archbishop and the servants of her church.

For all that they are men now, for all that they all took the same vows, for all that they squired and trained and rose up together; the knights of noble birth treat him as they always have.

“Edmont Oathbreaker,” says one of the Dzemael lordlings. He speaks to three other knights but pitches his voice to be heard across the barracks. “Swore to forsake all others when he took his lady. That lasted until they hired a maid prettier than the Countess.”

Haurchefant continues polishing his armor, keeping the same bland smile upon his face. If he reacts, they will narrow in like wolves scenting blood. And not since he was a boy has he responded to these taunts with fists.

It was this one’s cousin. He thinks, glancing at the lordling with his placid expression. Haurchefant had bloodied Grinnaux’s nose and his father had made him swear never to react so again. But one small victory–Grinnaux treated him with a begrudging respect thereafter.

“Someone should cut his tongue out,” Estinien growls. “And my new dagger needs testing.”

“Peace,” says Haurchefant. “Believe me, I have heard far, far worse.”

“That does not make it right.” And he rises with clear intent in his gaze. Haurchefant clasps his wrist, shaking his head.

“My friend, I am glad to have your loyalty. Will you do me the favor of standing down?”

Estinien looks at him a long moment before sitting down. “Bah! Only nobies care which side of the bed you were born on.”

Darling, fierce man. “I am, despite everything, a noble as well.”

“I don’t hold it against you.” Estinien says in the deadpan way he favors for jokes. And before Haurchefant can laugh, he adds. “You’re twice the knight he is.”

Haurchefant swallows the sudden burst of emotion that forms in his throat. His friend is not given to flattery or platitudes. “That...means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

Estinien grunts and returns to his own armor. This time, Haurchefant’s smile is true and genuine. He will do his best to be worthy of such praise. 

--

Artoirel flicks him an acknowledging glance before returning to his papers, writing something in his perfect hand. Of the three sons, he is the only one who takes after their father in neat penmanship. 

Standing at attention is still a trial. Who knew the body was so interconnected–that the acts of walking and standing could hurt while your shoulder healed? He has been through far worse pain and manages but...would that he could stand without discomfort.

“Emmanellain acquit himself well at the Melee.” Artoirel says at last, looking up. “Please, have a seat.”

Haurchefant nods and tries not to show his relief as he sits. “He did. I’m quite proud of him.”

“So am I.” A rare, soft expression crosses Artoirel’s face. Haurchefant often misses the cheerful, mischievous older brother who collected beetles and smuggled him toys. It is nice to see him again. “And...I had a notion. But I would like your approval first.”

“My approval? Would you like him to serve under my command then?” If he even can command any time in the next few months. Ser Zephirin’s lance was no common weapon, thus the healing takes an uncommon amount of time.

“Ah.” Artoirel sits up straighter. “That is the thing. It hasn’t escaped my notice that you would like to join up with Mistre-with Nerys. And it occurs to me...Emmanellain needs purpose, needs structure.”

He connects the lines and it is at once terrifying, exciting, infuriating, and thrilling. What can he even say to such a proposal? Words fail him.

“Of course, we would have a long talk with Corentiaux about it. I’ve no doubt he would be the true leader until Emmanellain caught up to speed. And there is the matter of your vows.”

“My vows?” Haurchefant repeats. “...you’re right. I swore myself to Ishgard and The Fury. No, as much as I desire to fight at her side, I cannot break my word to join the Scions. Especially not now.”

Haurchefant is all too aware of the fraught threads connecting everyone and everything. He has to navigate them as Commander, as a noble, as one of the famous bastards of Ishgard. And now–as he watches his country rebuild itself–the networks of Ishgardian alliances and feuds resemble powder kegs more than anything.  

Looking up, he continues. “I cannot ask to be released from my vows. Not when Aymeric has just been elected Speaker. We know I support him but we also know some might twist it around. ‘Look, even Greystone thinks the new Ishgard will fail. No wonder he is leaving.’”

“I know. That’s why I have an idea.”

“...Go on.”

Out comes an official document, marked with Artoirel’s own signet ring. Haurchefant reads it over once. Frowns and reads it again. This is...wholly unexpected. 

“Is this a promotion or a demotion?” 

“Call it a promotion.”

A promotion. From Lord Commander to House Fortemps Emissary to the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. Charged with protecting the interests of the Wards of House Fortemps; overseeing all negotiations between the Scions of the Seventh Dawn and House Fortemps; strengthening inter-Alliance relationships between Ishgard and the rest of Eorzea.

“Oh Fury,” he says. “You’re turning me into a politician.”

When Estinien comes back, he will never let Haurchefant live this down.

--

The Ostall Imperative feels like home. 

 The soldiers take to him and he to them. Captain Lyna is a charming, lovely woman and an excellent training partner. It is far more rewarding than stewing at the Crystarium. Hoping the Exarch brings Nerys soon but also hoping he does not. Would that he had a fraction of her power. Haurchefant might deal with these Lightwardens in her stead.

The Exarch summons him to The Ocular and he dares not hope for...anything, truly. Better to go in with no expectations with this one. He thinks Y’shtola had the right idea, departing as she did.

He is being unkind. He does not like being unkind. 

But he also does not like the idea of these souls in peril–Y’shtola, Thancred, his beloved Urianger–and that he may not see Nerys again. Or that he will, only to send her against horrific creatures of light and terror. And what of her soul? 

When he sees that it’s Alphinaud, he is beyond unkind. He is furious. 

Everything else was bad enough but this is a boy, his family’s ward. One who has wisdom beyond his years and responsibilities equal to those twice his age but still. Alphinaud is just a lad. What if something happens to his soul?

His body may still be in Garlemald!

Haurchefant hugs him fiercely, startling him. Alphinaud makes a faintly strangled noise before returning the embrace. More tightly than he ever has before. Little wonder: when last they saw each other, their ship went down and Haurchefant’s soul left his body.

“You’re...you’re here? But you were…” Alphinaud shakes his head. “Maxima was supposed to bring you home.”

“He did.” He does have the Exarch to thank, for confirming his body made it back to the Rising Stones. “I am in Mor Dhona. And my soul is...here.”

“Of course. My apologies, I am still wrapping my brain about what has happened.”

“If I may interrupt,” the Exarch says. “There are a few things else you should know before we send you to a room and a meal.”

“Before that…” Haurchefant looks up. “Kindly use your powers of sight and tell us how his body fares.”

“It’s alright, friend.” It’s Alphinaud who speaks. Puts a comforting hand on his arm. “The Exarch assures me that my traveling companions are returning my body.”

“Your companions,” he repeats. “Gaius van Baelsar, you mean.”

“You know?”

“The Exarch has kept me informed since my arrival here.” It is one of the constants since his arrival a year prior–asking for updates about his friends and loves still on The Source.

“Yes, I mean Gaius. It’s alright.” Alphinaud walks over to the Exarch. “Pray, continue ser. What else should I know?”

The boy receives the same explanation they all had: what is to come, what they are planning for, where the other Scions are. Haurchefant remains quiet except to add clarifying details here and there. It is far too much for anyone to process but as usual, Alphinaud does admirably. When he is dismissed, the Exarch asks Haurchefant to stay behind.

“How may I be of service?” Haurchefant asks, not quite modulating his tone. Urianger has asked him to trust the Exarch and for him, Haurchefant would do anything. He truly would. But he pictures Alphinaud, collapsed in Garlemald among strangers, and wants to fight through time and space to reach the Source and rescue him. Laws of nature and the universe be damned.

“As I said,” the Exarch says, voice gentle. “Gaius will bring him home.”

“Keep me apprised, if you please. I do not trust the Black Wolf, no matter that he is Ascian Hunter now.” Bending his vows to topple the archbishop had not made Haurchefant love Ishgard any less. Gaius’ alliance is to the Garlean Empire until proven otherwise.

“I have need of you, Lord Haurchefant.” The Exarch inclines his head, one hand over his breast. “You have done great things with my guard. But what I need is to know what type of world we send the Warrior into. We need alliances to ease her way.”

“...Ah.” Haurchefant nods. “You do not need the Knight. You need the Emissary.”

“I need both. You are an honest man because you are a knight. And that is also why you are an excellent emissary–you see people as they are, you discern their motives in order to know if you need to protect your loved ones.”

“You flatter me, ser.”

“I tell the truth,” says the Exarch. “Please, I know this situation is fraught and you want to get home. The more we prepare, the quicker I send you all home safe and sound. She deserves-”

“She deserves everything,” says Haurchefant. “And I would do anything to help her and protect her. If that means playing this role, then yes I will do this for you.”

Beneath the hood, he sees a hint of a smile. “We are in agreement, Lord Haurchefant.”

“If I may...I would like to see to Alphinaud. Shall we discuss this another time?”

“Of course. Tomorrow morning?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Haurchefant agrees. Enough time to see to the boy. And then make his farewells to Lyna and the rest of the guard.  Being with them is the most himself he has felt in a long while.

He hopes he can return soon.

#ally writes #haurchefant greystone #ffxiv #haurchefant lives #nerys eluned

[autumnslance]

19: How good would your OTP be at parenting?

Decent in some ways, awkward in others.

Everyone knows Thancred made some serious mistakes while caring for Ryne, but there’s also plenty he did right--and a major point of that story was them learning to communicate and understand one another and be a real family, so any future parenting in that regard, he’d do better with (there also would be fewer Minfilia-related hangups). He’d still probably be less verbally or physically openly demonstrative, but he strikes me as the type to teach someone to do multiple things as a way to spend time and make sure they’re taken care of; very hands-on and interacting. Lots of anxiety, too, over little things with younger kids, and also since he didn’t have any good examples to go by, a fear of “messing it up, again.”

Aeryn’s open in her affections for her friends, verbally and physically, so for a kid she’s moreso. To where some of her younger friends (Ryne, Gaia, Taynor, Rielle, etc) do joke at how she “moms” them (which she tries to deny even as she’s asking if they’ve got the right outfits/gear, if they need to eat, did they get their studies done or need help with that, getting enough sleep...). She’s had to take care of people before, and so would fall right back into it with some ease, and the circumstances would be far preferable.

Honestly, they both have a lot of natural “parent energy”--to where someone once said reading a smutty scene with them was “like watching Dadcred get it on with Mom” which is still one of the funnier comments I’ve ever gotten.

Thing is, though, Aeryn doesn’t really want to have kids.

Part of it is her role as Warrior of Light, certainly; there’s way too much going on there. There’s a lot to do, much she wants to do, and combine that with the circumstances of her life (not to mention her enemies) and it’s just not a good idea.

She also has no interest at all in being pregnant and going through childbirth. Adoption isn’t off the table, though probably at a much later time, assuming she lives through her adventures and has a chance to settle into something resembling a quieter life (she doubts it). Unless another situation like Ryne comes around, where responsibility for a child simply happens, it’s not a thing on her radar. And she can still visit the First and see to Ryne, and Gaia, and check in on Taynor, so that’s all right.

Thancred’s OK with no plans for kids, though some of that, too, are the experiences he has with being separated from Ryne and losing Minfilia. His natural dad-energy gets some expression being the Scions’ main tank at least. Besides, Thancred and Aeryn’s relationship isn’t really to that point quite yet anyway, beyond those existing circumstances--though after everything on the First, they would probably be all right Suddenly Parenting.

#Final FAntasy XIV #Thancred Waters #Thancred x WoL #Aeryn Prompts #patch 5.3 #Reflections in Crystal #Shippy Nonsense #Aeryn Striker #elfyourmother

[spacefantasyrogue]

OC Interview

Tagged on my star wars side blog by @cyrraluu but I felt inspired by her to branch out from the Galaxy Far Far Away and head to Eorzea too! So thanks Cyr for the tag and the inspiration! 

► Name ➔ “Hugo Brandt, adventurer and gladiator for hire, if the gil is right.” he stretches in his chair, casting his eye around ‘The Quicksand’ inn. ► Are you single ➔ “Indeed” ► Are you happy? ➔ “I am doing what I love, how could I not be?” ► Are you angry? ➔ “On occasion. Indeed ‘tis natural to be every now and then” ► Are your parents still married? ➔ “I have to assume so. I have not spoken to them in many years.” his tone is ‘matter-of-fact’ regarding this topic.

NINE FACTS

► Birth place ➔ “Radz-at-Han on the isle of Thavnair“ ► Hair color ➔ “Brown” ► Eye color ➔ “Blue” ► Birthday ➔ “11th sun of the fourth Umbral moon” ► Mood ➔  “Fair as can be, all things considered” he smiles ► Gender ➔ “Male” ► Summer or winter ➔  “Both have their upsides yet I have to say hot weather is better than the cold.” ► Morning or afternoon ➔  “The morning. An Afternoon in the desert is like it’s own Eighth Hell”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

► Are you in love? ➔ he smirks “Though there are many a fine lady and gentlemen in Eorzea, there is not yet one among them that has earned my true affections” ► Do you believe in love at first sight? ➔ “No. Love needs trust and commitment firstly.” ► Who ended your last relationship? ➔ “T’was he who ended it." taking another glance around the inn, he adds off-handedly “His loss.” ► Have you ever broken someone’s heart? ➔ “I doubt so” ► Are you afraid of commitments? ➔ he barks a laugh “Nay. I’d much prefer to have one if I am to be honest” ► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ “Of course!” ► Have you ever had a secret admirer? ➔ “If I knew it would not be a good secret would it?” ► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ he shrugs his shoulders, taking a gulp of ale. “It did break my heart to leave my home and family. T’was for the better though. I had to make my own path.”

SIX CHOICES

► Love or lust ➔ he smiles wistfully “To be in love is more precious than lust” ► Lemonade or iced tea ➔ “Lemonade I suppose. Cold tea of any kind is just disgusting!” ► Cats or dogs ➔ “Why not both?” ► A few best friends or many regular friends? ➔ “A company of best friends is not only reliable but more efficient” ► Wild night out or romantic night in? ➔ “I shan’t e’er turn down a party!” ► Day or night ➔ ”The daytime”

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

► Been caught sneaking out ➔ Hugo gestures to himself, a very tall and well built man, amusement written on his face “I’m hard not to miss unfortunately, I’d make a poor sneak”  ► Fallen down/up the stairs ➔ he chuckles “Once or twice” ► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ still in a jovial mood “You see the people of Ul’dah for yourself, no?” ► Wanted to disappear? ➔ Scoffs “and be forgotten? No, I want legends written about me” he winks.

FOUR PREFERENCES

► Smile or eyes ➔ “Eyes are beautiful, but a smile could light up a room” ► Shorter or taller ➔ he chuckles once more, lifting his mug back to his mouth, pausing to answer before taking a swig “I challenge you to find many taller than myself... No, the Ala Mhigan highlanders do not count” ► Intelligence or attraction ➔ “Intelligence. Looks aren’t everything” ► Hook-up or relationship ➔  “I would not turn down the offer of either one, yet a relationship would be nicer.”

FAMILY

► Do you and your family get along ➔ “We do. I left on good terms with them” ► Would you say you have a ‘messed up life’? ➔ “Crazy and wild, indeed!” ► Have you ever ran away from home? ➔ “No, fortunately I had no reason to” ► Have you ever gotten kicked out? ➔ “I gave them no reason either”

FRIENDS

► Do you secretly hate one of your friends? ➔ “Hate? Certainly not. Disagree with? Certainly.” ► Do you consider all your friends good friends? ➔  he grins wide “No” ► Who is your best friend? ➔  “I get on very well Thancred. I am not sure if I would name him my best friend. He certainly is my longest friend since moving to Eorzea” ► Who knows everything about you ➔ “No one here, which is probably for the better!”

TAGGING

Gonna tag @gnbrkrs​, @approved-trash​, & @azems-grapes​

#tysm for the tag! #cyrraluu #tag game answers #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv oc #oc: hugo brandt #hyur #gladiator #listen... y'all #please don't bully me for this #i'm still new to this game #lmao #though i probably deserve to be bullied for this mess #but thanks for giving me the first opportunity to talk about my non-star-wars ocs #i'll try and work on a full thing for hugo soon