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autumnslance · 4 months

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Year of the OTP - December 2023 - Home

(And this is a wrap, at 525ish words, just under the wire, a little piece about moving in and being together for the holidays both.)

It was so gradual, so natural, that Aeryn didn’t even realize it was happening at first.

In the Crystarium, Thancred had his shared quarters with Ryne. But after their first trip to the depths of the Tempest, he spent nights in Aeryn’s room more and more often, until his residence in the Oracle’s apartment was mostly a leftover formality.

Even when they went to the Empty, they had shared a tent at the base camp set up in Eden’s shadow. In the months following the night’s return, many across Norvrandt simply made assumptions about the Warrior of Darkness and the Oracle’s Guardian, and if needing to find one they sought out the other.

On the Scions’ return to the Source and their recovery after, she had spent the most time with Thancred, aiding in his recovery—to the frequent teasing of their comrades, particularly the ones who had not had nearly a year in the First to get used to the idea of them together.

Aeryn’s room was larger and had more creature comforts; Thancred’s quarters had ever been more ascetic, due to both his preferences and habitual long missions away. So they ended up spending more time in her chambers, some of his possessions making their way there as well, for convenience.

And upon arriving in Sharlayan, there wasn’t even a question, let alone discussion; in arranging their stay at the Baldesion Annex, Krile had simply set Aeryn and Thancred in the same room. Even in Thavnair, at her family’s properties, Aeryn found her elder stepsister had set aside a couple’s quarters for their shared use.

With thwarting the Final Days and the public assuming the Scions disbanded, the Rising Stones was no longer a place to call home—officially. Aeryn still kept many belongings there. Thancred’s remaining possessions were also kept in her old room, ostensibly so the space could be used for expanding crafting endeavors, though no one else’s old rooms were combined in such a way.

Even now in both Sharlayan and in Thavnair, evidence of her man’s presence remained in the rooms they shared. Their paths did not always cross, but there were notes, reminders, gifts; pieces of each other, and when very lucky, often after trying very hard, they did meet.

Like today, in her friends’ headquarters in Gridania’s woods. The Starlight season was almost over, Heavensturn coming swiftly, with new adventures for a new year. In her chamber hung a familiar coat, gunblade in the weapon rack, a wrapped present on the table. The washroom had been casually used, the closet carefully opened and a clean outfit from his (much smaller) side selected.

Back in the main hall, Aeryn found Thancred at the piano by the Starlight tree. “Welcome home,” they said at the same time to one another, laughing as she joined him.

“Happy Starlight,” Thancred said, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her cheek.

“Happy Heavensturn,” she replied, leaning against him, reaching up to trace her fingers along his jaw.

There were sheets of music left out, and they amused themselves by playing and singing together, raucous and laughing and in harmony, at home so long as they were together.

#final fantasy xiv #lyn writing #lyn edits #YOTP 2023 #Thancred Waters #Thancred x WoL #wolcred #shippy nonsense #Aeryn Striker

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brineffxiv · 1 year

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We gather in Limsa Lominsa, awaiting the boat that will take us to Sharlayan, where we will reunite with Krile and set about attempting to solve the many problems that face us.

Hoary Boulder and Coultenet stop by to see us off and to make sure we've got everyone's well wishes and assurances that they'll take care of things while we're gone. And so, with mixed feelings of excitement and trepidation, we set off!

Be still my heart! Is that the voice of Emet-Selch!?

It is him, isn't it?? Oh, I have missed you terribly. Are you narrating this expansion? How? You're dead. Oh, I might cry.

Oh no, now I'm definitely going to cry. Why is the sad music playing!?

Goodness, Tataru couldn't spring for a cabin? Even a bunk? We've just got to sleep here on the floor? Maybe I will go for that walk.

Uh...

Oh, my God.

Hydaelyn. I... have some questions. I feel. Somewhat betrayed. More so on behalf of my friends, than myself. For while it is true you have never - that I know of - done wrong by me, I have complaint over how you have treated my fellow warriors of light and your oracles.

A hard choice, to be sure, but I wanted to know more than I wanted to rage.

And now I wish I had chosen the other answer. No, it is not clear to me why now. Why not before, any of the times before? Why not tell us yourself? Why did you not reveal the truth about yourself and the "servants of darkness" ? Why did we have to find out from Emet-Selch what was really going on here? Don't you think that was a little bit important? If you wanted me to trust in you, why have you never been forthcoming with me?

No thanks to you.

And that's another thing. I realize, as a primal, you are bound by the desires of those who brought you forth, from that moment in time. But. What would be so bad about the restoration of the old world? The way we are supposed to be? Why fight so hard to preserve the broken remnants of an accident?

Now, certainly, in the present, we are peoples worthy of living on. But why initially? In the immediate aftermath of the sundering, before we had rebuilt, why not help put the world back together? Was your drive to subdue Zodiark so strong that you could not consider anything that would bring him power?

It seems to me, that as the fight went on, the Ascians became increasingly more in the wrong. But at the start. From where I stand. You were the villain.

Why do you value me so highly. That you would expend the effort to say these words to me when you left Ardbert to languish in perpetual solitary confinement for over a century? When you allowed a succession of Minfilias to fight and die without a word? When your neglect forced the champions of the First to turn to the Ascians for help to save their world? They gave their lives and you wouldn't even speak to them!

I am so mad. I am so very angry with you. I do not understand, and I am furious that you would expend the effort to speak with me just to tell me we're in danger. No duh. We've got a rogue Ascian determined to reenact the Final Days. A problem we wouldn't have if I hadn't gone and killed off the people who were keeping him in line.

If that's supposed to make sense to me I have to tell you it doesn't. How in the world am I supposed to find out what you promised in another age.

I can tell you care about me. You maybe even love me, as a mother should love a child. And I think there is a part of me that reciprocates. That Rhesh'a loves you too. But we cannot see past the injustice of it all. A mother should not pick favorites among her children.

Ahh and now we arrive at Sharlayan. Endwalker is shaping up to be a doozy; I'm already emotionally exhausted.

I am. Unprepared.

Eeee! New city! And Emet-Selch is introducing it to me! Happy happy day!

What happens if we get refused entry? Do we have to get back on the boat?

Right, got it. No talking about the Scions. My lips are zipped.

Ah, yes, I should get around to playing Eureka at some point...

Haha omg. That was... SO long ago. Even longer for G'raha. He went away and lived an entire life and more in the meantime.

I've always wondered what was behind the placements of Archon marks? Clearly the neck is standard, but Urianger chose to put his on his face for some reason? And the pictures I've seen of Louisoix show him with his on his forehead. Hmm... Things to think about.

Trust Fourchenault to have made things difficult. At least Alisaie and Alphinaud aren't precluded from entering. Thankfully it seems that being disowned didn't revoke their citizenship.

I am an Artisan, thank you very much. I didn't level all my DoH/DoL skills to 90 by Stormblood for nothing now.

AHAHAHA! Poor Estinien. He can't think of a job.

Thankfully, Krile arrives to the rescue. Estinien is officially a mercenary. And we are now free to explore Sharlayan, myself with G'raha and Krile in tow!

And here is where I must stop the post, as I have hit my max image allotment, lol. Welcome to Endwalker.

#ffxiv liveblog #rhesh'a tag #krile baldesion #hydaelyn #emet-selch #thancred waters #y'shtola rhul #estinien varlineau #g'raha tia #tataru taru #baseless speculation #thoughts on lore #i finally get to pick that bone with hydaelyn #it does not go well #endwalker

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asleepinawell · 1 year

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#I didn't include the three starting cities because no room #and I thought it would be more interesting to see the results without them tbh #radz crystarium and ishgard are all faves for me but radz wins #give me radz housing!!!!#I guess since they mostly stick to major cities it'll be crystarium and then...sharlayan???#sharlayan seems like a weird choice somehow so I am hoping for radz probably in vain #I have a fc house in ishgard which is my fave housing district #and a private in the goblet which is okay #I like going and floating in the pools and I like the cheap teleport #apartment in limsa which has always been home for me #pirate city? yes please #ffxiv #ffxivmp #ffxiv polls #ishgard #radz-at-han #kugane #the crystarium #I love ishgard because it snows and it doesn't snow where I live and I miss it #mp #final fantasy xiv #I'm guessing crystarium sweep?#I'm miserable from antibiotics as I recover from surgery please entertain me by taking this poll 🥺

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a-writing-otter · 4 months

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Zu’zu starts to unpack—first the coat across the ground to make a spot to sit, then the bow beside where he himself will set, and then he gathers the weathered, well-loved violin and balances it on his shoulder.

It’s been so long, you almost forgot how beautiful he looks when he’s focused. There’s the draw of his eyebrows, the slight pout of lips that have haunted you for longer than you can remember, and the way his fingers tap anxiously, like he can’t wait to get started making music.

The first notes are as warm and sweet as the man himself and, for just a second, you think you’d give anything to stay beside him at all times.

He’s got his head tilted up slightly so he can speak freely as he plays a stray melody.

“Sorry for not coming sooner and sorry for the sky going red, you, well, you know how it is.” And you do, if not from your own experience of the Calamity and the saviors of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, specifically Louisioux, then from the countless, near-world-ending horrors that the man in front of you has faced and silenced, both in this world and others.

He goes on, talks about Garlemald and their new peace, Radz-at-Han and its beautiful architecture (“Run by a dragon, even. Made me miss this place even more, if I’m honest. I think it made Estinien feel at home to have yet another dragon there.”), Old Sharlayan and both its evils and wonders (“We met the twins’ parents, which I could go on for hours about the pair of them. Their mother, Ameliance, is a darling and, their father, Fourchenault, I was ready to launch through the Forum walls for the promise of a good beer, and you know I despise that swill. And again, the way he talked to the twins, I might have done it just to see the look on his face, but he’s become an ally, though I think it’s less begrudging than he pretends it is. Alphinaud and Alisae have to have gotten it from somewhere, haven’t they?”), and finally—

“We ventured back into the Thirteenth, you know?” He draws to a thoughtful pause in his music as his gaze turns far away. “I hadn’t been there since I’d been housed by your family, when I was spending my idle hours in the shadow of a coming war by running with Sky Pirates.” And he laughs, a warm, slightly distracted sound.

“I do often wonder how Leofard and the Redbills are doing. I haven’t heard much of them in times since, so I have to wonder if that’s good or bad.”

But he shakes his head and resumes playing again.

“We met a voidsent there, a half-voidsent, actually. Her name is Zero and she was, actually, Zenos’ partner of sorts. You do remember Zenos, don’t you?”

And you nod because, of course, you do. How could anyone forget him? He was a hallmark of the stories Zu’zu told for so long. To hear that he’s dead is almost as bizarre as to hear that he’d saved Zu’zu. Figures like that feel untouchable in a way that you never had considered demolishing until Zu’zu had come. When he’d told stories to you of Zenos and the impossible odds he faced to thwart him, you’d never doubted he’d come out on top when it mattered most.

If there’s anything you believe in this world, as tenuous as your grasp on it is, you believe in the Warrior of Light.

#my writing #ffxiv #haurchewol #haurchefant greystone #wol #a little bit for a piece I’ve been working on on and off for a few weeks and an edit i did today #I’m actually really proud of how the edit came out just #don’t look at the leg anatomy too long >.<#i spent a lot of time breaking Zu’zu’s hips and legs

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archaiclumina · 11 months

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A Crease on the Page

A little bit of Ren & Oli backstory I've been working on as referenced in this post! This WIP is set in around 1558 of the Sixth Astral Era, during the Rise of Garlemald and the time of the Sharlayan Exodus from the Hinterlands!

There was trepidation that surrounded her. It was inside her, but outside of her too. It hung in her chest and in the air; like the pause before her aunt’s little gold music box began to chime. “What if someone sees?” Her voice soft as carline seeds on the evening breeze. “They won’t.” Cyfrenne’s voice replied to her with a certainty like stone. A conviction of belief as stalwart as the truth that the moon pulled the tide to kiss the shore.

Only the dim, twilight glow of Cyfrenne’s aetherlamp lit the way for them. It swung gently as she climbed, the faint swish and hum of its sway the only sound save for their steps; muffled by the thick wool of their socks. Oliviede glanced back up. Gazing at the rows of shelves winding off into the blackness above.

The pair didn’t make another sound until Cyfrenne reached the last step. Then she let out a breathless sigh of relief or urgency, Oliviede couldn’t tell. Perhaps because it was a mixture of both. She turned to her once she felt the cold marble underfoot. Both unhooking their shoes from where they had fastened them upon the bows of their Studium uniforms and putting them back on in silence.

“Now what?” She asked, her voice still hushed, although louder now they were at the bottom.

“We go this way.” Cyfrenne said, gesturing in what was an indeterminate direction to Oli. “Toward the borrower’s catalogue, and my father’s old office.”

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” Oliviede said (more to herself than Cyfrenne, who had already begun walking down one of the corridors of books.) She cast a final glance back over her shoulder toward the narrow ladder they had descended from and then walked briskly after the other girl.

“My Father’s not a traitor, Oli.” Cyfrenne said to her as she caught up, wholly unprompted. At least as far as she was concerned.

“I believe you.”

“I’m only saying so because obviously, it doesn’t make him seem very untreacherous, when his only daughter asks her best friend to break into the School of Fantastics with her.”

“But we’re only doing it to find proof that will clear his name.” Oliviede shrugged. “That’s like the opposite of being treacherous. That’s aiding true justice.”

Cyfrenne turned to her and beamed, “My thoughts exactly.”

“Only, do you know what we’re looking for, Ren?” It wasn’t that Oliviede doubted her motives in wanting to prove her father’s innocence. She thought it was noble and brave. Daring even. It wasn’t even that she was worried about getting expelled for sneaking into the restricted section of the Great Gubal Library. (Her parents would expect as much.)

“No. I just know it’s there. The proof will be there. I know it, Oli.”

That was why.

Cyfrenne’s heart was thrumming in her chest like a hive of bees. She knew Oliviede thought this was a madcap idea. A wild chocobo chase. She didn’t know how to explain it to her. I saw it between the words of our aetherology textbook. But that’s how she knew. That’s where she’d seen it. The proof of her father’s innocence. In the spaces between the words. In the lines that separated the sentences. Who would believe that? Oliviede would come the closest to believing her, but even she might suggest that Cyfrenne had been spending too much time with her aetherology textbooks, at the very least.

She was very grateful to her friend. Oliviede had never met Cyfrenne’s father. She had no reason not to believe the official reports, even if most were not privy to them, she had shared them with her, and Oliviede was in her rights to agree with them.

The young half-hyur had arrived in the Hinterland’s six short months after her father had disappeared. It had been a year now, and the Forum of Sharlayan’s investigations had concluded. Like those before him, Cyfrenne’s father had succumbed to the influence of the very knowledge he had been trusted to safeguard. There would be no more Bibliomancer’s guarding the School of Fantastics.

“They’ve already taken everything important, everything they think they truly want to keep from here. Or at least, everything they think they truly want to keep.” She changed the subject away from the topic of their search. And to what she had gleaned from her mother’s notes and diaries. “They’re going to leave, eventually. I don’t know when, but it’s all but certain to happen.”

“Well, if I don’t get kicked out for this, I hope it’s after I’ve graduated from the Arboretum.”

She chuckled at the dry reply.

#oli #ren #my ocs #my drabbles #oc backstory #my characters #ffxiv rp #ffxiv roleplay #a crease on the page

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observeroflaplace · 7 months

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D20 - Hamper

The sun shone brightly over the streets of Old Sharlayan - or as the current residents called it, Idyllshire. Perfect weather for a picnic in the fields surrounding the old city.

Oghii eagerly packed rows of foodstuffs in a woven basket and closed the lid. Sandwiches, a flask of tea, cakes and biscuits - courtesy of a retired Twin Adder’s own recipes, and of course, her treasure.

While the majority of what she’d brought suited her tastes as a Miqote as well as the Hyuran, Roegadyn and Elezen adventurer population on this grand picnic, she had painstakingly toiled away at a recipe for the goblins she considered her family. A loving mixture of goats cheese and luxury Gobbie cheese - the latter of which was hard fought and hard-haggled to obtain, bound with nanka egg, and seasoned with only the finest Ishgardian Rock Salt freshly harvested from Diadem, and baked with a crumbly pastry crust, Oghii unveiled the treat to a host of small goblins.

Their cheers were music to her ears.

She plated up her creation the Ultimate Smelltaste Eggbake (a particularly strong smelling but nevertheless luxuriant goblin-friendly quiche, to you and I) and smiled as the children began to dig in.

It was all worth it.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2023 #ffxiv writing #Oghii Hideseex

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endlesscrimson89 · 8 months

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FFXIV Write2023, Prompt 9: Fair.

Raha learned long ago - across both of his lives - that there was very little things in their world that could be called fair.

Or - like he liked to think of it since falling for his ink-haired Warrior - that the equillibruim of their broken world was far too often skewed. And Senri taught him that there was nothing quite as satisfing as restoring the balance.

There were people in their world in a nagging need of that lesson - they both believed - that thought that due to their position or power they had right to harm those weaker than them. That they stood so far above the law they were untouchable - and far too often, they were right. Using money or influence, they slipped between the cracks of their society and too often it were the innocents who paid the price.

Growing up in Old Sharlayan, pariah and at the edges of the city's social circles, he had far too many occasions to witness that vicious circle, yet it was meeting Senri that gave him the idea that it didn’t had to be like that.

That the real kindness somtimes came with blood and screams. And executing the true, fair price - if it saved even one innocent soul - was right.

After the struggle of the Final Days were behind them, it became their shared passion to restore the balance to the world they saved. Because it didn’t take much to understand that the real monsters weren’t the blasphemies or the creatures traversing the planes outside the cities. No, the real monsters looked like everyone else, acted like everyone else, but the rot eating at their souls could be cleansed only by making them pay their due to those who were unable to execute the payment themselves.

And they - with their own and their Ancients' magic - were more than eager to deliver.

At some point, and after a careful probing at where he stood with those ideas, when Rahm joined their playtime it became easier - and at times, even entertaining. Normally cheerful and easy-going Seeker's - and his respective Ancient - skills meshed well with theirs, adding flare to the endevours a very few knew about or would understand.

Or so Raha couldn’t help but think, watching the scene below his position play out. Leaning against the balustrade on the higher set balcony with drink in his hand, his crimson eyes followed a figure of the elegantly dressed woman, who with excitement on her face headed right into the trap. A part of the high society that filled the ballroom behind his back, lady Élodie, wife of one of the high-ranking knights within city of Ishgard had apparently a little consideration to her husband’s famed devotion. Blindisided man who didn’t see world behind her blonde locks and brown eyes, too long ignored the rumors about her side activities.

He was too blind to see the bruises covering the younger staff of his mansion, and the fear in the eyes of the boys who wanting for nothing but survival remained silent. Mansion he was eager to invite the saviors of the star to, unawere that the idea wasn’t exactly his own.

It was a part of their hunt Senri - and Ares - excelled at. A word with musical undertone into a right ear was enough to provide the necessary distraction. And his unnatural, mesmerising beauty was definitely not something the distinguished 'lady' could resist, either. Judging him by her measure, the blonde far too eagerly followed the Warrior out of the building on her own, like a moth drawn to a flame.

And so will she burn, Damon chuckled in the back of their shared head, and Raha hid a smirk behind the glass of his drink. His eyes folled her descent into oblivion up to the designed spot, then his lips moved unnoticably to the guests enjoying the party behind his back, too busy and inexperianced to recognize the distortrion of reality.

...and just like that, all hints of her existence dissapeared, taking along all her belongings as her devoted husband relaxed unnoticably, with the pre-set compulsion. Thinking himself a years long widower, while Raha watched his not-yet dead wife reach the tall figure of his gorgeous husband at the edge of the street below.

So mesmerized was lady Élodie with her target, she never noticed another blonde shadow split from the darkened alley, and neither did she recognize the vicious tilt of his beast’s grin.

She had no idea she was dead the moment the second Warrior of Light set his hand over her shoulder, and even smirked with glee at his handsome visage, looking between the two famous, beautiful men like she won a prize.

And in a way, perhaps she did - a first prize from their long, long list of targets.

He didn’t need to watch what fallowed, but he remained motionless upon the balcony, still somewhat fascinated with the way Rahm’s dynamis-charged Echo tore from her the long list of deeds they were more than aware of.

A bill to pay, signed with the names of her victims.

Then he watched, sipping his drink, the two Warriors discuss the fitting price - his lover whisper into the woman's ear when agreed on. Despite the distance between them, he could see a cheerful grin on Rahm’s face when handed the female a wickedly sharp dagger, she took gratefully and used to carve out her due upon her own flesh. He could see the still-present fascination on the younger Seeker's face to see Senri’s gift at work.

It took a good moment - a testament to her crimes - before she was allowed to die, and at the agreed upon sign he whispered another useful spell, making her body and any other evidance dissolve. Then he watched both men exchange grins and head back to the party, Rahm funnily saluting toward him right below the position of the balcony.

One less monster in their world - and sending her screaming into the aetherial sea felt only fair.

#final fantasy 14 #ffxivwrite2023 #g'raha tia #g'raha/wol

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morocosmos · 1 year

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Returning - Epilogue

Warrior of Light & Erenville

Takes place during Endwalker, just after the end of 6.0. This is a series of vignettes on each of the Scions’ relationships with my Warrior of Light, Moro’a as he’s recovering after the end of the Final Days.

We made it to the end! Thank you to anyone who’s enjoyed these, whether you read one, a couple or all of them :>

It’s a chilly morning, early enough that some of the market stalls in the Agora have yet to fully open. Moro’a takes his time, walking slowly as he takes in the sea air and the quiet bustle of Sharlayan scholars and students, out procuring supplies and sundries. From across the plaza, he sees a small group of Ironworks engineers hurrying past the aetheryte, and even a handful of Gridanian conjurers at the benches, gawping at the sights around them.

Change, Moro’a thinks to himself, suppressing a yawn and wrapping his scarf around his neck an ilm tighter as a breeze rushed through the Agora, before settling on an empty bench.

The Scions had agreed to embark for the Rising Stones by the end of the sennight, giving Moro’a ample time to rest and build up his strength before the voyage. In an effort to do just that, he’d been going on walks such as this around Old Sharlayan. He’s growing a little stronger every day, but still has to be careful not to overexert himself. Dawn has proven to be the best time for walks; while he doesn’t entirely wish to be left alone, less attention from passersby means more energy for walking, and he much prefers appreciating the simultaneously quiet, yet bright atmosphere, watching as sunlight gradually bathes the city’s white stone buildings in a rosy golden hue.

But change is still on his mind, as it had been for several days now, and with it the certainty that it would come about soon for him and the Scions. Estinien would sooner or later embark wherever the wind took him. Thancred had already mentioned his and Urianger’s plans, while Krile and G’raha spent more and more time in the Annex these days, and Y’shtola in the Noumenon. There’d also been murmurs between the twins about Garlemald, wishing they could do more there, and Tataru has her business to run. Each Scion’s desires had begun to draw them along different paths, some converging and others not.

It was bound to happen, now that the mission that brought us together has concluded, Moro’a thinks to himself. He’s not sure how to feel about it; happy and upset are far too extreme for the precipice they stand upon now.

“Fancy meeting you here.” A low, musical voice brings Moro’a out of his reverie, and he turns around to see Erenville approach from behind.

“Erenville.” Moro’a finds himself glad to see the gleaner. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you.” Erenville wears a light, warm smile, and he hesitates before adding, “countless people were concerned for your well-being when you returned from your mission…myself amongst them. But if you are here, I trust your recovery proceeds at a welcome pace, then?”

Moro’a nods, briefly explaining his treatment and how the Scions would be leaving for Limsa Lominsa within the next few days. Erenville takes it all in stride and without comment, until he poses another question. “What next, then?”

What next, indeed? The Scions may well not be needed anymore, which leaves me free to do just about anything, he considers saying. He’d told Thancred he’d like to go adventuring, but he hadn’t quite expressed how impatiently eager he’s become to do just that – to take the unknown road and venture forth to wherever it might lead him. The same desire that’d led him to Eorzea in the first place, more than a decade ago now.

“I’d like to go somewhere new,” he answers, looking out towards the ocean. “Or perhaps someplace I can see with new eyes. But not as some champion or saviour. I’d like to just be myself – just any other adventurer, if you would. Find some stories that don’t revolve around being a hero.”

Erenville doesn’t reply immediately. In fact, the viera appears to be deep in thought, as though suddenly thrust into some sort of internal debate. There’s a sparkle to his eyes that hadn’t been there before, as though Moro’a’s words had done something to capture Erenville’s own spirit, and it makes him wonder. What's your story?

“Oh, don’t mind me. I was simply distracted by, ah, a quandary of my own,” Erenville responds at length, shaking his head. Upon seeing Moro’a’s curious expression, the viera tilts his head ever so slightly to the side. “That being said, while gleaners go wherever we are needed, it does result in a healthy amount of travel. Not that much different from the life of an adventurer, in some respects.” Erenville taps his chin. “Should our paths happen to align…I don’t suppose I could trouble you for a means to contact you? Depending on where my work takes me and the timing thereof, I might just appreciate having an experienced travelling companion.”

Oh? It’s Moro’a’s turn to consider the other’s words. Erenville had worded it as a suggestion, and yet something about the way he said it made it sound more like an invitation. It might just be the adventure Moro’a’s looking for, and he can’t say he’s not interested in getting to know the gleaner better. “I can pass you a linkpearl before we leave for Limsa Lominsa – find me here at the same time tomorrow if you can make it,” he replies, and Erenville nods with a smile.

“Excellent. Well, I’d best be off for now. Can’t make good on my offer if I don’t take the necessary steps to make it happen,” he says, more than a little mysteriously. They bid each other goodbye, and as the viera heads off in the direction of the Annex, Moro’a turns his attention back to the horizon.

Days and days spent confined in the Technon had sprouted seeds of wanderlust in him like never before, eager to bloom. But Moro’a knows that much and more have served to propel him on the path he wishes to walk now: an old friend’s footsteps. Cryptic parting words from an enemy turned ally, and the sun-coloured crystal he keeps close by. The words of the tireless woman who’d beseeched him to champion her cause, but who had celebrated the spirit of adventure in him as well, long before they would meet in this life.

Has your journey been good? Has it been worthwhile? It has, he thinks to himself, but I’m not done yet. And whether or not the Scions of the Seventh Dawn would still exist in the days to come, it’s comforting to know that they would continue to be there for each other, come what may.

#kae scribbles #erenville #endwalker spoilers

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goblinfreder · 10 months

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OC Introduction: Frederick Makalt

Age: 28 as of 6.4

Birthplace: Sharlayan (Dravanian Colony)

Echo: Hearing music from the land everywhere he goes (i.e. the soundtrack plays for him and him alone)

Main Jobs: Paladin, Samurai, Dragoon

Born with his twin sibling Einr to a 5th generation Sharlayan father and a mother newly immigrated from the Skatay Range, Frederick’s life was planned far in advance. The stars said he would be a man, so his name has been the same since birth. His father said he should be a botanist like him, so that’s what he focused on. But within this he was allowed the freedom to learn spear fighting from his mother, to read and grow a lifelong love of poetry, and to play with his sibling.

To the rest of the kids in Sharlayan he was that weird gray kid, and thus he never had any friends. That was, until a truant Elezen girl named Erranea needed a place to sit, and found the empty seat by him first.

They ended up talking and bonding over botany and from then on they were essentially inseparable. Even learning that Erranea was descended from those mean Garleans couldn’t stop their friendship. He protected her and Einr, they all had fun and explored together, and life was good.

Then, in one night, everything was taken. The Exodus occurred, a plan Frederick’s father despised and would never follow. But no one couldn’t stop it, and Erranea was taken in the shuffle.

In the aftermath the mother feared for the safety of Einr specifically, taking them far away to the Golmore Jungle. Frederick was left with his father. And the worst years of Frederick’s life were beginning.

Day in and day out he was forced to train, to hone his body into a tool to fight the Garleans with. To his father, and no one else mattered in the face of that kind of threat. There was only looming danger and his responsibility to fight it.

But once the Calamity struck, everything fell apart. He was assigned to help keep the peace in Gridania, but was called to Carteneau in the aftermath. Arriving to learn that they needed someone able to identify his father’s body.

The next 5 years are a blur even to his own recollection. What he remembers is living a false existence, not engaging with much of anything beyond the bare minimum. Traveling Aldenard and helping out where he could, never thinking about himself or what he wanted.

Then, on a trip back to Gridania to get some reminders on how to be a lancer, he passed out and saw a vision of him as a Dragoon, fighting back evil itself. He found a crystal, met Hydaelyn, and woke up as the Warrior of Light.

He found his twin Einr, now called Clover, and began adventuring together as co-WoLs. At some point they joined the Brass Spectacles FC, run by one Eros Astarael. A sudden echo vision during his early Samurai outings taught Frederick that Eros is a half-brother to him and Clover, sharing a father who had a secret history of infidelity.

And soon after passing customs in Old Sharlayan, he reunited with Erranea, officially starting a relationship with her and taking her back to Eorzea.

He lost everything in the past, but now has more than ever. And where he couldn’t before, he’s determined now to protect his family.

Fun facts:

Frederick’s main role in the FC is that of the party face, given that the rest of the members have low social literacy, a tendency for violence/arson, or both. He’s very often had to negotiate his brothers out of jail, usually from the Temple Knights.

As of 6.4, Frederick and Erranea are not married. He worries that something in the journey will make him worse, so he’s waiting to make sure the time is right.

The feathers are not tattoos, but actual patches of feathers from his cheeks. They don’t grow, but they can’t be removed. Running theories by Alphinaud and Clover are that the Azem Crystal’s power shielded him from lethal concentrations of Dynamis, but couldn’t stop everything.

Frederick is the Azem shard of the Source, sharing his Ancient’s skill with a sword and shield, love of poetry, and nigh on sickening romanticism.

His current journal is a handmade recreation of the original that Erranea made for him when they were kids. He carries both of them everywhere.

His canon minion is Anima, named Areadbhar after the spear they first resided in. Also vying for the spot is Frederick Jr. the Dwarf Rabbit.

Frederick’s and Clover’s echoes are shared between each other after Midgardsormr silenced their blessings at the same time, and with a single attack.

Frederick is proficient at every crafting job, but specializes in Blacksmith, Weaver, and Alchemist.

#ffxiv #ff14 #viera #oc #dbramblings

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nosafeharbour · 11 months

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Patch 6.4: The Dark Throne MSQ thoughts/reactions

MSQ reactions except actually it’s literally just about the dungeon

Okay, for context on all of my Isle of Haam thoughts;

I decided back during Heavensward about where my WoL is from: all I vaguely knew before then was that I wanted her to be from a mountainous area, and not be native to Eorzea. I’d been curious about Sharlayan, and the possibility of Albi coming from there came to me once I reached the Dravanian Hinterlands and had the geography and architecture tick every box for me. I had been mulling over an Irish-inspired heritage for Albi for personal reasons, and it clicked into place once I did the Mhach raids — she could be a descendant of the Mhachi, and I could link Sharlayan by having her come from one of the smaller Sharlayan isles. She’s close enough to have that link to Old Sharlayan, but having my own little original island meant I could carve out my little bit of worldbuilding, a group of settlers who left Eorzea for the Northern Empty along with those who founded Old Sharlayan, but slightly splintered in a way where the Irish-based language survived on from Mhach. I’ve had the Isle of Danann ever since!

Judging by geography, and learning of Sharlayan’s attitude to the outside world, my little isle basically ended up being the Irish equivalent to Sharlayan’s UK... both in climate, and political relations, lmao. Related enough to be grouped together, but still othered by Old Sharlayan. Using the Celtic isles as inspiration for both language and climate was really perfect in the end, and places like the Isle of Skye became direct inspiration for Albi’s home. I opted for an isle north of the main Old Sharlayan isle for Danann, because I wanted to lean more into the cold, mountainous vibe. I had assumed and hoped that Old Sharlayan’s geography and climate would be comparable to the Celtic isles and places like Iceland, so seeing the fir trees, Icelandic recipes, references to Celtic isle birds, and seeing it snow in Old Sharlayan once we got there in Endwalker had me super emotional in ways I felt silly about, but hey, it’s cool to have stuff validated!

I knew we’d never get any focus on the surrounding Sharlayan isles; getting to actually go to the Isle of Val via Eureka was really special to me, and going to Old Sharlayan itself was equally special! They were close enough.

So anyway when the 6.4 dungeon ended up being the Isle of Haam, the one named isle north of Old Sharlayan I was in complete and utter disbelief. The only reason I hadn’t picked that specific isle for Albi’s home and made my own was just in the weird slim chance that it ever got lore... but I was thinking like... maybe a mention in an Encyclopedia, not a physical location we’d actually go to

I wanna attribute it to having had a very emotionally tough few weeks preceding the patch, but when I loaded into the Aetherfont and heard the music, I just burst into tears LMAO the opening guitar just got me, okay. Turns out having spent 5 years pouring my heart into a specific part of Albi, her home and her attachment to it, and then practically getting to go there?? Wildest dream come true.

Also, the music is called Starsbreath? Hello?? I’m getting emotional just thinking about it again, don’t look at me

These cliffs that look like they slope upward that you see as you come into the dungeon, they’re so reminiscent of one of my irl inspirations... :’) Photo I took myself!!

I joked on Twitter when we first found out about the dungeon’s setting that they should give me Thancred back for just one patch, because Albi needed her emotional support tank for visiting the Isle of Haam. So I... wh... they heard me... Thancred’s involvement in patch was so cute and silly. It would be easy to be disappointed in how slim it was, but my expectations were low, so just having him called in as a therapy dog to our latest unsocialised cat was very charming. He isn’t just Albi’s emotional support tank, he’s everyone’s emotional support tank

Thanks, babe!

Anyway back to the Isle of Haam

Heatherback... heather... heather is really important to Albi/Albicred/me via Scottish folklore and it generally being a flower that’s very common in the places I care about, so this just got me even more, man. I deadass spent this entire dungeon in some level of tears

Just... literally the spitting image of where I’ve always pictured for Albi to hail from. She might not be from the Isle of Haam itself, but you can surely see the Isle of Danann from it, with how close it must be. The only thing I am laughing at is that I didn’t quite realise an isle that far north would be surrounded by ice floes and polar bears?? LMAO I guess Haam is more Icelandic leaning... maybe Danann isn’t quite as far north...

The mountains/winding stream through the valley you can see in the distance... :)

The trees and the foxgloves... they’re just perfect...

The gear all being called distance gear is very cute. And it’s mostly black and gold! The green accents on some stuff might have to grow on me, but I think these are all glams I’m willing to sweep into canon Albi outfits. Outfits from home... ish!

As for why we’re there, and the Isle of Haam’s place in the story... it’s interesting that this island was acquired by Old Sharlayan for research purposes, and the Isle of Val was also bought by Galuf Baldesion for similar reasons. It seems that none of these isles asides from the main one are inhabited? Not that I care, for my isle is seperate enough in both it’s own place in the archipelego, it’s culture, etc. but it’s an interesting thing to note.

The Isle of Haam originally being the source of aether that was going to take the Ragnarok to the moon is fascinating! I like it more than the MacGuffin of “we’re going to summon all the Primals but make them good guys just to fulfill the abandoned plot thread from the 1.0 intro”... lol... this would have been a nice MSQ dungeon, if we got the fabled two expansion finale where we had more time in each area.

I need to work out how Albi feels about all of this. Despite the island being used only for good, and to save humanity, I think she would still narrow her eyes at the Forum’s intents to use it’s resources for gain. She still holds a grudge at how flippantly Old Sharlayan views the isles around it, particularly when one of the reasons the Isle of Danann did not do well after the Calamity was Old Sharlayan offering aide too little and too late. She’s mellowed down a little in Endwalker about her views on the motherland and the Forum, but it’s still easy to raise her hackles on such matters.

Since the Isle of Haam is certainly the closest isle to Danann, I wonder if the two had any connections? Not that Albi ever went there, but the aether crystal caves were gorgeous... maybe some people did visit Haam in order to collect crystals to use in jewellery making. Perhaps it was a known spot.

Rolling back to the actual story. Thancred coming in to teach Zero about Trust, only to go “I learned how to love and trust people through this one” while nodding at WoL and then leaving is both incredibly funny and incredibly sweet

Thancred’s Unending Codex entry... I know this is about him thinking of Ryne, which is very sweet, so I don’t wanna make this about myself, but when I have a star-themed WoL I’m reading this like... :) Ah... ahaha... Thancred having a fondness for stargazing through Albi is something I’ve had for them since like 2017, particularly as something to connect him to her when they’re apart. That can still be an element here! Fellas, what if your character arc was about coming to terms with being parted with the ones you love, and finding peace with that distance. He looks up at the stars and thinks of Minfilia, and Albi, and Ryne.

I dunno how I feel about the Garlemald section. I think Garlemald sections in EW patches will just always hurt a little bit, for me, because I’ll never be able to stop thinking about what this zone could have been like with proper pacing and involved characters.

But I really like Senatus! They gave me a bourgeoisie Tertrium! Again, a little sad that this means they’ll never actually use the government building next door, but it is very neat to see where an interim government is being run out of, and the differences between there and Tertium. It does have this interesting war bunker vibe.

Similarly to the Tataru’s Grand Endeavour quest, I think while I didn’t massively care for any of the story elements here, it gave me lots of nice little morsels for my own little character stuff. Albi has been spending some time collecting books from ruined houses and buildings in Garlemald, restoring them in her free time and collecting them together in Tertium or Camp Broken Glass. I had in mind that some Garleans would not want her to meddle, but she has the same goal in mind of trying to preserve some of the everyday life and culture of Garlemald, be it good or bad elements of it. Seeing all the books in Senatus, I think it gives another facet to all of that... wanting to ensure books are taken care of and in the hands of the people, and how some might feel about that? P: This all spanned from the mention of Garlean poetry in Jullus’s short story, and wanting Albi to get some bearings with Garlean as a language. MSQ and Tataru quest just gave me Albi book lore...

Speaking of Jullus, him and Zero were the one part of this arc that I adored. I have a lot of feelings over it being Zenos that treated Zero so badly, but another Garlean that helped her in the end - I have no idea what the game intended when it made our WoL think about Zenos at the end of that scene, but in my eyes that was also the sentiment on Albi’s mind.

I’m still half checked out on the main MSQ story in the Endwalker patches, but 6.4 did make me really like Golbez. I thought he was cool in a “big man good” way before, and liked his voice acting, but whew his voice acting in the trial is really good. His backstory with his friend is neat - I’ve been holding back on developing my loose ideas for Albi’s shard from the Thirteenth just in case they pulled Zero, or maybe even Golbez being our shard, but I think if it’s going to be anybody then I’m placing my bets on Golbez’s friend. The fact they’re a mage, dressed in black, who is respectful of the dead... I like it.

Okay I think that’s it. I just wanted to cry about the Isle of Haam somewhere. Please wish me luck in farming the entire gear set, the orchestrion roll, and the minion, because I’ve been having bloody terrible luck with all of those so far.

#6.4 spoilers #msq #reactions

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ofdarklands · 2 years

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9 to 16 for mitr'a? 👁👁

job has been suspiciously silent today so here it is

PLEASE NOTE i am literally just starting the post sb quests so i can already tell where things will be changing... i don’t know how yet though...

under read more because long

9. How do they deal with their fame? Has it changed their relationship with their loved ones? Have they ever been tempted to use their fame for selfish reasons?

- he ignored it at first, slowly started to realize the size of it when people started opening doors to it, and hit him fully when aymeric walked in like ‘hearteyes motherfucker’ and accepted a deal because it was him. now, he tries to just power through the overblown reactions like he didn’t hear them. it does help that thanks to accidentaly creating himself a secret identity, he can just change clothes and posture and go be Just Some Dude*. still, he spends a good amount of his time listening to stories and histories and songs, he can intuit how these things work. the higher they go...

*as the hand/land classes quests continue though he’s actually starting to be recognized in different ways anyway which is somewhat annoying though

- his mother and sisters back in the black shroud have absolutely no clue as they haven’t seen him in years, and don’t actually know him that well anyway. if they knew about the wol thing the reaction would be something like... “him??? are you sure? his only topic is plants”

- i suppose he has used his ‘i am but a humble botanist’ license combined with his natural stealth to just wander into hostile fortresses and areas repeatedly and for various reasons, and doesn’t intend to stop

10. How do they deal with the pressure of being a or the Warrior of Light? Do they have a ritual to relax and recenter themselves?

the things is, his main job is botanist, closelly followed by, well, all the land/hand classes. he’s not even a registered adventurer. being the WoL has become an expensive, dangerous, high adrenaline hobby for him so generally, he is here because he wants to and is having a great time! really! if he dies it’s on him!

sometimes though you just gotta go and *grits teeth* rip out invasive weeds with great prejudice while imagining they’re lolorito and then hit some rocks for good measure. you know how it is

11. How do they deal with the knowledge that they’re not immortal but the world will always face some kind of danger? Have they made their peace with not being able to save everyone?

yeah, it’s fine. he’s doing it now, someone else did it before and eventually someone else will do it afterward, and in any case he’ll be dead. *victory sign emoji*

12. What do they think about redemption and forgiveness? Would they forgive an enemy? Would they forgive themselves?

there are things you can be forgiven but still have to pay for. but, yes, he supposes. if it helps

13. Of all the dungeons they explored and the trials they faced, which one left the best memories?

sky pirates sky pirates sky pirates. the ff14 version of an oldie dnd adventure. no thinking just kill stylish demons with the stylish pirate gang, and there’s a giant ship made of coffins and evil. baller. the scions never even learned about this one, this was a private party. the music was very good as well

he also, obviously, loved the arboretum. he goes back often, both there and to the sharlayan library. i mean, if they’re just gonna leave all those books lying there, don’t mind if he does right?

14. Is there any NPC from the game they would consider as a mentor?

a mentor? no, i don’t think so. he gets along great with cid? he does consider some people to be the Authorities in their Field though and as such what they say pretty much goes, but that’s not exactly mentorship

15. How do they feel about the Ascians?

fascinating hermit crab motherfuckers. how do they get to 10 thousand years old and make less interesting monologues than gaius and zenos and the... the crystal braves traitor fuck. they’re SO annoying to kill. where do they even keep coming from

16. Tell us about the two major events from MSQ that left the deepest emotional scars on your WoL.

1) well, for him, moenbryda's death, the end of the crystal tower raids and the Ul’dah Event all happened in the same week. so. that was a fun one! ul’dah confirmed for Worst Place, where not only is it dry, ugly, and unpleasant, but you also can’t trust anyone. he’s only willingly stepping there again if it’s for a primal

1+) after the hw poisoning he’s not ever eating or drinking something he hasn’t gathered and prepared himself ever again either. has become a master in seeming like he’s eating so he doesn’t offend. m’naago’s mom’s celebratory dinner has been his hardest test yet

2) he understands and respects self sacrifice, but, being the one jumping face first into danger is literally what he’s here for. maybe don’t everyone teleport into the death dimension at once leaving him on the run with 2 kids, or maybe just trip him and make him fall on his face instead of throwing themselves in front of the magic missile. please.

#don't @ me about 11 i am aware #he is not #yet #play: mitr’a #mitr'a

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ainyan · 1 year

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19. — fireworks

(This is a snippet from a fic I was writing once upon a time - it suits, and I happen to like this part a lot.)

Upon the roof, Thancred and G’raha Tia set about creating a nest of blankets and pillows, while Kali stood by, basket in hand. When she tried to help, both men shooed her off. “Isn’t it the male birds who build the nest, and the one with the prettiest one wins the fair maiden?” Thancred asked whimsically, and she giggled at him, then stepped back, basket held before her as she patiently waited for them to finish primping.

None of them pointed out that there was but a single nest, and that the two males supposedly competing were working together with all evidence of complete enjoyment with each other and the situation.

When they finished, G’raha Tia took the basket while Thancred took her hand, leading her over. She stepped into the middle of the pile of cloth and stuffing and sank down with a rustle of silk and gems, having changed to her dancer gear in the spirit of celebration. Both men slid down beside her, one on either side, and arranged her so that she nestled into their arms.

She felt G’raha at her side, the heat of him, the flutter of his pulse, the rush of his blood, his palpable excitement as he awaited the festivities with the same enthusiasm as he awaited their next adventure. For all of his centuries, he was only as old as his current body - barely a year or two her senior.

And at her other side, she felt the solid, stolid presence of Thancred. Although in actuality much younger than G’raha Tia, his body was the oldest of the Scions, and his personality suited his outward appearance - though he was in no way so old as he often was teased of being. A patient rock, it had been to no one’s surprise when Thancred had taken up a position in the vanguard, eschewing his previous role in the shadows. He was the most protective - and the most caring - of the Scions.

Her heart fluttered, torn, and even as she laid her head against Thancred’s shoulder, her tail flicked out and wrapped itself firmly around G’raha’s hips, her hand reaching for his. His fingers twined through hers and he lifted them to brush his lips against her knuckles as the sun finally sank below the horizon, casting long shadows across the harbor.

And the fireworks began.

Light flashed across the sky, pictures and explosions emblazoned across the heavens for all to see. The alchemists and arcanists of the Far East plied their trade with consummate skill, telling story after story in fiery images writ large across the stars. Between the three of them they were able to identify the vast majority of the pictures, their low-voiced commentary in no way drowning out the shouts and cries of surprise and elation from below.

Now and then Kal’istae felt Thancred’s lips press against the top of her head; now and then, she felt G’raha Tia raise her hand to kiss her knuckles - absent gestures of affection that sent her heart alternately thudding from joy and aching from sorrow.

There was music, too. The sweet voices of the bards of Sharlayan and their instruments could be heard, giving voice to the stories behind the imagery through ancient songs. Even as the pictures faded, leaving only bursts of abstract stars and flowers to brighten the night sky, the music continued to swell across the city, a joyous chorus welcoming in the new year.

And then she heard it; the tocsin pealed across the city, bright and strident as timepieces across Sharlayan struck midnight. “Blessed Heavensturn,” she whispered to the two men at her side, words choked and just a bit watery.

“Blessed Heavensturn,” the men replied in unison, and she lifted her head, feeling them lean down to both brush their lips across the edges of her mouth. And she couldn’t help it; the tears began in earnest. “Kali, Kali, don’t cry,” Thancred murmured urgently.

G’raha Tia slid closer until she found herself sandwiched between both men, the miqo’te fitting along her back, kneeling behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist even as Thancred shifted to kneel before her, drawing her against him. “Sweetest Kali,” G’raha whispered in her ear, “there is no need for tears.”

She couldn’t stop them, even if she were willing - in her breast her heart twisted, aching and breaking. “I can’t do it,” she hiccuped. “I can’t choose. I can’t. I won’t.”

Citrine eyes met scarlet and the two men nodded, then wrapped themselves firmly around her, heedless of how close it brought them. “Then don’t, my own,” Thancred replied firmly.

“Then don’t, my love,” Raha echoed. “You need not choose at all,” he continued as he pressed his forehead against the back of her head. “We don’t want you to.”

Her tears faltered. “B- but…”

Thancred pressed his lips against the scales on her forehead. “We don’t need you to. This arrangement suits us just fine, and we see no reason to change things. Why should you choose between us when we can both make you so happy?”

She sputtered, and both men drew back to give her room, keeping their arms firmly around her. “What - you’ll share me?” she asked incredulously. “What about - when we - when I…” She trailed off, blushing.

Thancred chuckled low in his throat, and she felt a tug deep in her belly. “Well, I for one would not object; it would not be the first time, though it would be the first time with someone I… but then,” he murmured, the thought trailing off unfinished, “everything with you has been the first time for me. But it would not be every time,” he added, glancing at Raha, who nodded.

The miqo’te held her close. “We will spend much time apart, you and I, and you and he and I. ‘Tis our lives as Scions. Sometimes, the three of us will be together, and I doubt any of us will wish to waste such time worrying about who is where, or who is doing what.”

The hyur lifted his hand to stroke her cheek. “And there will be times where it is only the two of us, or the two of you. Only the gods know where we will end up once you have healed and we have made our decisions regarding our futures. You know,” he added soberly, “that Urianger and I have a vested interest in the well-being of Garlemald. And Raha has a duty to see the Students rebuilt. And you, my bright star, your steps will ever dance onward and outwards towards new experiences, with or without us.”

She dragged herself out of their arms and they knelt side by side, watching her as she stumbled to her feet, pressing her hand to her breast. “You want to share me,” she said. “I - it’s a dream, but… but…” Her tail drooped, her shoulders slumping. “No. No, it couldn’t work.”

The two men exchanged an alarmed look. “Whyever not?” G’raha demanded.

She looked at him… then her gaze slid to Thancred, and he read unhappy embarrassment in her eyes before she looked away. “Because I don’t know that I would be able to do the same, not for you,” she whispered, “and it would not be fair to lock you into a relationship where you must be forced to watch the one you care for in the arms of another, but be denied a similar joy.”

Ah. The pale-haired hyur smiled. “Kali,” he said gently, and she lifted her gaze to his. “I share you only with a man who feels for you as I do, a man for whom you care as much as you do me. I would not be able to countenance you with any other. And I would expect no less of you. And as you are the first woman I have ever loved,” and his smile broadened as her eyes widened in shock, “I do not think it likely I will ever find another for you to concern yourself with.”

She took a step forward and reached out a hand to him, fingers trembling. He rose to his feet and caught her fingers, drawing them up to his breast and covering them with his own as he continued to gaze down into her eyes. “You… love me?”

His heart pounded in his throat. “I do. I do so very much. I think I always have.”

G’raha continued to kneel as he watched them stare at each other. “Kali, if you’ve changed your mind…”

Both Scions pinned the miqo’te with a fierce glare. “While I never expected to hear those words from Thancred,” she said hoarsely, “and I do not deny that it changes some things, it does not change the fact that I care for you,” she said fiercely, “as I do him. Completely. I don’t want to live without either of you.”

“Even were she inclined,” Thancred added, turning his gaze back down to Kal’istae, “I would not allow her to. We are suited, we three. We are,” he murmured, “fated. This I believe; there is no other explanation for this union of like souls and like minds. No, Raha. It was always to be us - all of us.”

The miqo’te’s eyes widened, then filled, and he stepped forward as Kali held out her free hand, sliding his fingers through hers and drawing her knuckles to his lips. “I love you,” he said quietly to her. “And I want to do this.”

Her eyes shone up at him, but it was to Thancred she turned first. “I love you,” she told him, and he exhaled sharply, his fingers tightening on hers almost to the point of pain before he relaxed his grip. She smiled up at him, then turned to G’raha. “And I love you,” she said to the Exarch, who pressed his lips to her hand, his eyes overflowing. “And I do not want to live a life without you both.”

Thancred abruptly tugged on her and she fell into him, giggling. G’raha Tia echoed her laughter, moving in until he was pressed against her back. She released both men, sliding her arms around Thancred’s waist as she lifted her face to his. “I love you, Kal’istae Miurani,” he whispered as he pressed his lips to her forehead, then took her mouth in his.

“I love you, Kal’istae Miurani,” G’raha Tia echoed, and she felt his arms surround her, his body pressed against her back as he kissed the back of her head, waiting patiently for Thancred to relinquish her.

Reluctantly, the gunbreaker pulled back. “My own,” he murmured, his hands skimming up until they caught in her hair, tangling amidst the short strands. Her lips parted and he sucked in a breath, then released her, his hands sliding down again to her shoulders before he turned her to the miqo’te who watched with anxious scarlet eyes.

“Raha,” she murmured, her face alight as she gazed up at him, and he gathered her close, feeling her arms come around his neck. He bent his head and covered her mouth with his, feeling her pliant and willing in his arms.

When she finally pulled back, she stepped away, gazing back at the two men watching her. “You’re absolutely certain this is what you want?” she asked, one hand going to her throat.

“Be ours,” Thancred said simply. “Be mine. Be his. Be ours.”

She gazed up at him with wide, bright eyes. “I - yes,” she breathed, and threw her arms around them both as they came in, resting her head against their shoulders. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes!”

Original Ask Meme

Thank you for the ask!

#asked and answered #kal'istae miurani #wol x thancred #wol x g'raha tia #wolcred #wolraha #wol x thancred x g'raha tia

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