#seaswolchallenge

[autumnslance]

(@driftward) Oh, let's see, one per inbox item defeated per blog, correct? Of course I'm correct. Gimme dat Little Brother Thing; self-indulgent on my part going to ask after The Effects of Wine (Y'shtola); It Ends Where It Begins sounds ~interesting~; Hilda Ideas, for both me and a friend; X'rhun and F'lhamin (eyebrows eyebrows eyebrows); and a bonus just out of sheer curiosity, Biot's Antecedent Musings

Good job defeating the inbox boss. Why were you awake at hours only reasonable to me and our local Australian?? Anyway.

Little Brother Thing - Stormblood 4.3. As Alphinaud accompanies Maxima, Aeryn reflects back on key moments in their journey together, and how much he's grown and changed from the arrogant boy she shared a cart with but didn't properly meet until the Remembrance Ceremonies, to the confident young man he is at this point--and how she's still going to worry for him regardless of how capable he is, because that's how it goes.

I should revisit this actually, it's got some good bones. Hrm.

The Effects of Wine - ARR, Company of Heroes chain, Y'shtola POV. After the Feast, Y'shtola and Aeryn rest in a bungalow and have a late evening talk about Aeryn's growing reputation, why the Company did what they did, and how she just ever meant to be a common adventurer to help people--not a primal slaying hero. Aeryn says more here than usual at this point in the story; maybe the wine, maybe the growing trust in her comrade.

I should get around to cleaning it up and posting it somewhere, honestly. It was a noodle-thought from very early on as I was figuring out voices and relationships, but it's not too bad.

It Ends Where It Begins - is a post-5.0 Shadowbringers. Something that the Exarch said in the cliffside convo before Mt Gulg reminded Aeryn of Papalymo's words post-Ultima Weapon (it's a click text when everyone's gathered in the Waking Sands to congratulate you before you turn in the final 2.0 quest in to Minfilia). Given all that happens to WoL in 5.0, and the revelations in general, Aeryn ends up thinking of the words as she looks back on her journey, and ends up in Gridania. And it leads into what then became a seaswolchallenge prompt in 2020, Metamorphosis, where she tells Miounne and Bremondt stories of her adventures.

Hilda Notes - Literally just a list of notes about horny Hilda moments for some reason. There's a draft for a fic of her and a touch-starved Thancred I can check off. Ideas for a cop vs vigilante fic with Sidurgu (maybe something sexy there, maybe not). And an idea for a Hilda solo as she fantasizes about a hot Highland lass met while dealing with Ala Mhigo stuff. It's not even a real fic draft, it's just a list of random ideas written up while apparently hormonal.

X'rhun and F'lhaminn - Oh this is from back in I think Book Club days and a rarepair challenge month. Find a relationship that doesn't already exist on Ao3. Write something. Back then there were no tags joining these characters in any way. I was going to try to write the duelist and songstress in a light friendly adventure of their own, maybe get in some witty flirty banter for the fun of it, but the mystery never quite gelled and so I shelved it. Maybe someday. And add in Nashmeira.

Biot's Antecedent Musings - Discord convo on 12/28/22 where you were having thinky thoughts about Thancred and Minfilia and being the person she confided in about the Echo and I accused you of trying to bait me into writing something about that.

#final fantasy xiv #Lyn Prompts #WIPs #Lyn Writing

[elfyourmother]

Prompt #1: Crescendo

[for @seaswolchallenge, January edition. 2.2k, Gisele x Emet-Selch, Gisele x Aymeric x Haurchefant, post 5.3-ish]

Silence descended upon the Palais Dzemael, and as the lamplights dimmed, a single gentleman stepped forward from the shadows, at the wings of that grand stage. Unto the very center of it the Hyur strode with purpose, his fine leather shoes clicking upon the polished wood to send echoes aloft with every footstep. And when he reached the center, a single beam of light illuminated him, as he gazed out upon the audience—among them, high in the balcony, sat Gisele and her companions in all their finery. So illumined, she recognized him then, for he was a fixture in the Pillars.

“The West and East were waging war. Draco, the West’s great hero, contemplates his love, Maria. Is she safe? Is she waiting?” the Impresario began rather grandly. He turned then, as if to gaze up directly at Gisele and the illustrious. “Lord Speaker, distinguished Members of Parliament, honored guests of the Eorzean Alliance, and Warrior of Light: the Palais Dzemael is proud to present for your entertainment this tale old as time, as performed by the Royal Dalmascan Opera. I give you…The Dream Oath.”

Beside her, Gisele heard a strangled choking sound from the companion to her right, at the name of the performers—one quickly muffled by a gloved fist. “Are you quite well, love?” she whispered, low and soft.

Hades made her an indifferent little wave. “Splendid,” he whispered. “Do enjoy the show.”

The Impresario left the stage to the applause of Ishgard’s peers, and the curtains rose even as shadows fell upon the stage, and the orchestra took up the beautiful overture so known—and beloved—to Gisele.

Whatever may have been going through the eccentric mind of her gentleman companion that night, she put it aside, for she had anticipated this performance of The Dream Oath like little else. She had listened endlessly to the orchestrion roll—a gift from Haurchefant, when he learned of her love of music, and spent more hours that she could count singing along whenever she was by her lonesome. They had even played it upon their wedding day, and Gisele and Aymeric danced to the famous aria. But never had Gisele seen any of the opera performed, in the flesh. It was precisely why Aymeric fair leapt at the chance to invite her to this special command performance, to benefit the Ala Mhigan Resistance. 

And it was why she sat practically upon the edge of her seat, in the Lord Speaker’s box, utterly oblivious to the presence of such distinguished personages. Instead, she found herself holding her breath, when Ser Draco himself ventured unto the stage, tall and clad head to toe in fine mythrite plate, and lifted his voice in deep and heartwrenchingly beautiful song--performed in the original Elezen.

Oh Maria!

Oh Maria!

Please hear my voice!

How I long to be with you!

Gisele could not help but sigh a little dreamily, as his rich tenor carried brilliantly across the breadth of the massive chamber, for the acoustics of the Palais were second to none. But she was stirred a little from her reverie, by Haurchefant’s hand reaching for her own to the left of her, lightly caressing it, before he squeezed it tightly.

Mayhap Draco’s song meant somewhat more to him, after a year of exile upon the First apart from her. 

A sidelong glance exchanged in the darkness, and the faint hint of a sorrowful smile upon his lips were enough to make Gisele believe it. She returned his gesture, squeezing his hand in reply, and so entwined they continued to watch the performance unfold in all its artistry. The intricacy of the Dalmascans’ stagecraft was as mesmerizing as the colorful costumes, and the brilliance of the Ishgardian orchestra, every note played to utter perfection as scenes of war. It was wildly popular in Ishgard, and Gisele knew well why—Ishgardians were all terrible romantics, and she had come to learn this well. That the heart of the tale was the enduring nature of love amidst a bloody conflict in a ruined, war-torn kingdom was also something that resonated deeply with the Ishgardian character, for obvious reasons. And it resonated still, that night, given life by such talented performers as these.

There was but one scene Gisele had anticipated above all others as soon as she received the invitation from Aymeric, however, and as the stone mockup of a castle parapet was wheeled expertly upon the stage, her heart swelled.

She was breathtaking, the Roegadyn soprano, her costume a magnificent ball gown of shimmering cloth of gold, bedecked in seed pearls, which favored her deep complexion greatly. So beautiful she was, in Maria’s great sorrow, having been forced to wed the cruel and wicked Prince Ralse to seal the defeat of the West. And when she lifted her dulcet voice to the starry heavens so masterfully glamoured upon the gothic ceiling, Gisele gasped.

Oh my hero, so far away now.

Will I ever see your smile?

Love goes away,

Like night into day.

It’s just a fading dream...

Every word, Gisele could not help but silently mouth along with her, as she had so many times—luxuriating in her bath, pulling weeds in the garden, spinning thread in the atelier. 

I’m the darkness, you’re the stars.

Our love is brighter than the sun.

For eternity, for me there can be,

Only you, my chosen one...

The long arm of her companion to the right stretched behind her, draping across the back of her shoulders to rustle the silk of her own gown against her skin, typically indolent at first, but his hand squeezed her shoulder tightly with Maria’s verse, and warmth crept into Gisele’s cheeks at the sensation. He was not so simple to speculate upon, this man the world knew as Hades d’Amaurot. But she glanced to her right to see his golden eyes shimmering, stood with unshed tears, and she thought upon the ancient necklace of sunstone which rested against his heart, beneath the ebon silk of his exquisitely tailored shirt.

Must I forget you? 

Our solemn promise?

Will autumn take the place of spring?

What shall I do?

I’m lost without you.

Speak to me once more!

Mayhap it was so simple, indeed, Gisele mused silently, reaching over to idly caress his cheek. His eyes closed, his dark lashes fluttered thick and voluminous with her touch, and he smiled.

The spectral figure of Ser Draco appeared then, his armor still shining, beckoning to his lost love. And Maria glided across the parapet with him, following his lead. The skirts of her gown flowed about her like gentle water, and it was hypnotic, almost, watching them turn with ethereal grace. She was well trained in movement, the soprano, as much as in voice, Gisele thought approvingly. And Gisele wondered then, how the illusion was cast, thinking upon a glamour, like as not. But it did not matter, not really, so enraptured she was by the beauty of it all, as strings and horns played out swelled to their steps of passion and grace; hope, even, the undertone of the melancholy, and Gisele’s heart soared to see it at last, beholding this story in all its glory for the first time. Of a surety, it was as if she’d heard that melody for the very first time, and the majesty of it overwhelmed her a moment, her own eyes standing with tears. She spied Hades’ other hand drifted into the air, in the periphery of her vision, as graceful and ethereal as their steps, silently conducting the orchestra as was so often his wont. Gisele stole a quick glance to him again, to see the fullness of his lips parted slightly, his lids grown heavy, and it seemed he was silently, imperceptibly mouthing the melody in time with his silent conducting. Gisele smiled in the darkness, turning her attention back to the stage.

At last, their dance ended, the specter of Ser Draco vanished, leaving in his place a bouquet of roses. Maria bent low, gathering them up within her trembling arms, and ascended the stair to the highest parapet; Gisele’s breath was caught in her throat once more, her hand raised to her heart.

We must part now.

My life goes on.

But my heart won’t give you up.

“…and, toss,” she heard Hades murmur softly under his breath.

Maria did, as soon as he said it, gently flinging the bouquet over the parapet, into the waiting darkness.

Ere I walk away,

Let me hear you say.

I meant as much to you…

So gently, you touched my heart.

I will be forever yours.

“Come what may, I won’t age a day…I’ll wait for you always.”

It was not Maria’s verse which so pierced Gisele to the core, lovely and ethereal as it was; rather, the soft, imperceptible tenor beside her. So soft was Hades, in truth, that Gisele wondered if she might have imagined it. But he squeezed her shoulder once more, and when she glanced back to him?

Hades was smiling.

***

With the death of Prince Ralse at the climactic duel, The Dream Oath came to an end.

“Bravissimo!” Hades cried out, the first to leap to his feet when the players returned to the stage to take their bows, and Gisele turned her gaze upon him; tears flowed down his sharp cheeks in a veritable flood, his golden eyes bright and dazzling.

“Well done!” Aymeric shouted his agreement, tears standing in his own eyes as he joined in. Of a surety, no eye within the Lord Speaker’s box stood dry and bereft--not even those of the Admiral and her Second, to Gisele’s great and silent amusement. 

And they were not alone, for the applause was so thunderous it near shook the very stones of the Palais. Gisele smiled at it, not merely at such an outpouring of appreciation for artistry, but for what it would portend—offers of patronage from the High Houses, of course, and a renewed commitment to Dalmasca’s resistance as well as that of Ala Mhigo. Precisely what Aymeric had intended with all this, Gisele believed, smiling knowingly at her wily husband.

After exchanging any number of pleasantries, Gisele departed with her husbands, her boon companion in tow, venturing across the Pillars hence for a small reception at Fortemps Manor, naturally hosted by Count Artoirel. Gisele smiled at the sight of Aymeric and Haurchefant arm in arm, a little ways in front of them, for Haurche was serenading him in his very best impression of the dashing Ser Draco, and none too poorly at that, for Aymeric’s swoons were only faintly jesting. Somewhat in him always seemed to relax in their presence, but particularly Haurchefant’s, and it did not seem to matter to him that they were in the rarefied air of the Pillars, then, for Aymeric accepted Haurche’s attentions with aplomb, even if he was slightly more circumspect in returning them.

“Haurche—wait!” Aymeric nonetheless spluttered, however, as Haurchefant suddenly took him by the hands and swept him into an impromptu Waltz, there in the broad plaza before the steps to the Last Vigil.

“Oh, come now my lord! I shall wither into roses if you refuse me! Will you toss me so bereft into the Sea of Clouds?” Haurchefant gasped, and Aymeric laughed in defeat, following his lead. Humming the melody of the aria, Haurchefant beamed, and mimicked Draco’s dance; Gisele’s heart swelled at it, to see the stars so shining in Aymeric’s eyes, caught up in their husband’s typically infectious joie de vivre.

It seemed Haurchefant was going to waltz Aymeric right to the house, and Gisele could not help but giggle. As they crossed the pristine cobblestoned streets, even the night air seemed a little less choked by the Coerthan chill—though it could have also been the heat pouring off Hades’ body in waves, filling Gisele with soothing warmth as they walked arm in arm along the grand promenade.

“Tell me, my dear: did you enjoy the show?” Hades asked rather pointedly.

Gisele smiled, leaning into him as they walked. “I did.”

“Good,” Hades purred, that typically smug tone of his brimming with self-satisfaction if only a moment, but the smugness faded just as quickly upon his mercurial features, replaced by a faint, wistful smile. “I wrote it for you.”

Her eyes grew wide, her heart pounding in her ears. “I beg your pardon, monsieur?” she gasped.

Hades grinned brightly, much like a cat who’d gotten into the cream. “Oh, do try to keep up Gisele.”

With that, the Ascian vanished into thin air only to re-emerge before Haurchefant, clapping and cheering his performance with only a little sarcasm. Haurchefant stopped only long enough to take his bow.

“You were magnificent, love,” Aymeric laughed, kissing him soundly upon the cheek.

“Indeed! You know, if this whole Scion business turns sour on you, you’ve the makings of a player, ser knight,” Hades said. “At any rate gentlemen, I do hate to interrupt such a lovely scene, but…we should arrive only fashionably late. Whatever might the Pillars say, Lord Speaker, if you lot missed a fete at your own bloody house?” he added, in precisely the sing song tone that got shields hurled at his head.

This time, Haurchefant merely cackled with a foolish grin upon his face. “It wouldn’t be the first time, messire D'Amaurot. Isn’t that right, Aymeric?”

Aymeric turned a bright shade of crimson. “Haurchefant, I beg of you, cease this talk at once or I will toss you into the Sea of Clouds--flowers or no!” he spluttered, then buried his face in his hand to stifle the laughter that followed.

It set them all off in such a fit, and it was their cresting laughter that was the sweetest accompaniment in truth, those few yalms down to Fortemps Manor.

#seaswolchallenge #emet selch #aymeric de borel #haurchefant greystone #wol x emet selch #wol x haurchefant x aymeric #bisho writes #me: i'm not gonna take part in this challenge this month #also me: listens obsessively to the italian version of aria de mezzo caraterre and has Feelings #also also me: let's write songfic about the opera like we're 14 again #and yes it's uncle ted's localization i'm old and i hate change lmao #ot4: heavensent #otp: rose and pomegranates

[seaswolchallenge]

AND WE’RE BACK! Welcome to #seaswolchallenge for August 2020! As mentioned previously, I am still collecting the prompts from last month’s challenge, but I thought I’d prep this one in advance. Enjoy!

Here are the brief guidelines for engaging with these prompts, which you can also find here:

Your character does not need to be a WoL to participate in the challenge; however, the core blog caters to those people who have a WoL verse or strictly write their character that way. If you’re someone who believes in the concept of mary-sues, hates npc x oc shipping, etc., I’d encourage you not to participate and hide the tag for the challenge as needed. I will not tolerate anon hate and will block and blacklist people accordingly.

Currently there are no prizes for completion of the challenge(s). This is for fun!

There is no order to which you need to do the prompts. You can also sub in different words if one doesn’t vibe with you, as well as skip days.

Similarly, you can return to older prompts at a later date to complete them at your leisure. There is no punishment for people who finish the challenge late. Your work will still be reblogged and shared.

Length of a prompt doesn’t matter! Write twenty or two thousand words.

Use the tag #seaswolchallenge or @seaswolchallenge so I can see what you have written! All completed works will be reblogged onto this blog. If you do not see your prompt, please shoot me an ask/im with the link

All works will be queued to avoid spamming peoples’ dashboards. If you do not see your prompt right away, or it takes a few days from the initial post, this is why!

This challenge will run from 1 AUGUST and ( technically ) conclude on 30 AUGUST for those who do one prompt a day. As always, please feel free to reblog this and tag your friends to write with you!

#seaswolchallenge #balmung #mateus #aw yea we're back baby #prompt list

[kunstpause-archive]

Day 1 - Crescendo

@seaswolchallenge​

Cassia/Lyse - taking place in the Steppe

___________

“Ha, I win again!”

Lyse’s voice sounded triumphant and only slightly out of breath as she grinned down from her position atop of Cassia, who let out a frustrated huff.

Cassia was noticeably more winded, still trying to catch her breath. “Are you certain this is actually training and not just a thinly veiled excuse for you to pummel me into the ground on a regular basis?”

Above her, Lyse let out a laugh. “Ah, come on! You’ve held out a lot longer than the last time we did this.”

“Five minutes,” Cassia murmured. “It took you five minutes, and I feel I won’t be able to move for a week!”

“That’s three more minutes than last time; I’d call that progress!” 

Cassia muttered something less flattering about her own fighting ability under her breath. She appreciated that Lyse had offered to teach her a more direct form of combat. Still, she had to admit that it did hurt her pride every now and then, to be reminded rather forcefully that, while her magic abilities were outstanding, her physical fighting capabilities were nothing to write home about. Yet. This was supposed to change that, after all. But somehow, Cassia had less of an easy time to see her own progress. When she tilted her head back, Lyse was still looking down at her.

“Getting comfortable?” Cassia teased, expecting a laugh from her friend at best, but to her surprise, Lyse’s eyes widened slightly, and a blush appeared on her cheeks.

“I wasn’t…” Lyse started, only to break off. “I mean, this is not…”

Cassia’s eyebrows went up at the realization that her small, thoughtless teasing had apparently hit its mark, and suddenly, some of her friends' recent behavior made much more sense. The increased amount of time they spent together, the closeness that had felt mostly accidental, and even the training… A smile formed on her face as she sent Lyse a telling look.

“Oh, I think you definitely were,” Cassia purred. “Were you actually teaching me to fight, or was this just an elaborate plan to get me underneath you?”

All of a sudden, Lyse looked mortified. “No!” she insisted. “I mean, I absolutely meant my teaching offer, I promise!” There was a stricken look on her face as she tried to assure Cassia of her motives. “I admit that there may have been some… thoughts, but you have to believe me, that was not my main intent!”

“I believe you,” Cassia hurried to say, seeing that her friend looked genuinely distressed. This had not been her intention at all. “I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything; that was a jest,” she explained. “I was just surprised, but I assure you, I am not upset!”

“Oh.” Above her, Lyse let out a deep sigh. “Thank the Twelve.”

Cassia could see her relax, but still, throughout all of this, Lyse had not moved. The other woman was still on top of her, legs spread on each side of her hips, her hands still pushing down on Cassia’s shoulders.

“I can’t say I’m not incredibly curious about these… thoughts,” Cassia added a bit softer, looking up at Lyse with a small smile on her face. “I may have had some thoughts myself, you know…”

There was a torn look on Lyse’s face. Hesitation mixed with the familiar look of desire as she swallowed. “Well, I…” Lyse started, only to look away all of a sudden. She took a deep breath before fixing her eyes on Cassia again. “I saw you,” she suddenly blurted out. 

“You saw me?” Confusion went through Cassia. “Where? Doing what?”

Lyse still looked slightly hesitant, and for a moment, Cassia thought her friend was merely anxious until she noted her glowing cheeks and her slightly faster breath. Whatever Lyse had seen did definitely not make her uncomfortable. It had her aroused instead.

“Back in Gyr Abania, shortly before we left for Doma, I walked in on you and Urianger.” The words tumbled out of Lyse as she bit her lip for a moment. “I didn’t stay, and I swear I wasn’t spying on you, but…”

“But you saw enough to get you all hot and bothered,” Cassia concluded. The wink she sent at Lyse served to make the other woman gasp for a second.

“You are not upset by that?” Lyse asked hesitantly, only for Cassia to shake her head.

“Come on, Lyse, you should know me better by now. You know I don’t mind an audience.”

Lyse swallowed briefly, the glow on her cheeks only getting more pronounced. “Well, I know that, but.. that looked very… private.” She put a particular emphasis on the last word, making Cassia try and think back to what exactly the other woman had walked in on. Nothing particular came to mind, though.

“I’m afraid I don’t know exactly what you mean,” she admitted. 

Lyse took a deep breath before answering. “When I came in, you both didn’t even notice me; you were so engrossed in each other,” she explained in a quiet voice. “And Urianger, he was, well, making you do things. For him. Giving you orders…”

Slowly, Cassia started to see a picture forming. “And that made you interested?” she asked carefully, but Lyse shook her head lightly.

“No. Yes. Not entirely, I mean. I was interested before, but when I saw that…” Lyse trailed off for a bit, her eyes glossing over before she pulled herself back into the moment. “I was surprised at how much I desperately wanted to be in his place.” The confession was quiet, but firm and without hesitation. 

Cassia swallowed as she felt a tingle of excitement run through her at Lyse’s words. “So, you don’t just want to sleep with me, but you want to order me around and make me do whatever you want during it as well, am I getting that right?” she asked plainly. For a moment, she almost expected Lyse to start fidgeting again, but it seemed that once her friend had gotten her thoughts out in the open, her usual confidence was slowly returning.

“Yes,” Lyse said firmly, looking down at Cassia with unveiled desire in her eyes. A slow smile spread over her face as she seemed to realize that Cassia shared her enthusiasm. Her hands on Cassia’s shoulders relaxed as she let her fingers trail down her sides, running over the seams of the tightly wrapped top Cassia wore for training. ���I want you to stay at my tent tonight, and I am going to be in charge,” Lyse stated boldly in a voice that Cassia knew she had practiced a lot lately. Her voice she reserved for giving orders to the resistance. A small shudder went down Cassia’s back, making the desire that had been slowly growing inside her swell to new heights. This was a tone she could definitely get used to. 

With practiced ease and an undeniable surge of excitement, Cassia gave Lyse her most tempting look. “Well,” she said smoothly, her voice lower than before, “You’ve already won our fight; you might as well claim your prize.” With a knowing smile and a nod in the direction of their tents, she added, “Though if you don’t want to have the entire camp know, maybe not right here.”

Lyse let out a snort. “Please, my tent is next to yours. I know for a fact that people will know anyway.” She leaned down closer, resting on her elbows, and Cassia felt the soft brush of the other woman’s breasts pressing against her own in their sudden closeness. “You are not as subtle as you think when you take people to your tent at night,” Lyse whispered, her breath warm on Cassia’s face.

“I wasn’t trying to be subtle,” Cassia said pointedly. “I never am.” With a grin, she added, “Though you are most welcome to try and experiment with things that keep me quiet if that is your wish.”

Lyse’s eyes lit up with a spark as she grinned widely. “Oh, I have put some thought into that already,” she assured her. “And I know just where to start.” And with that, she closed the distance between them, soft lips pressing down on Cassia’s, swallowing the quip that Cassia had been ready to retort as they moved without hesitation. 

As Cassia sighed into the kiss, opening herself up to the insistent press of Lyse’s tongue against her lips, she briefly thought that despite the earlier defeat, this was shaping up to be her favorite training session so far. It was the last more coherent thought on her mind before Lyse’s hand snuck into her hair, pulling slightly to angle Cassia’s face just right, and she let herself be swept away.

#seaswolchallenge #Kunstpause writes stuff #ffxiv #wol/lyse #I need a Cassia/Lyse tag

[starrysnowdrop]

Prompt #1: Crescendo

For January 2021 Sea’s WoL Challenge - @seaswolchallenge

Yume Aino x Cid Garlond

496 Words

Post 2.0, immediately following Ultima Weapon

Upon waking the morning following the destruction of the Ultima Weapon and the defeat of Gaius van Baelsar and the Ascian Lahabrea, the newly dubbed “Warrior of Light” Yume Aino made herself her usual matcha green tea and sat down on her plush cushion on the floor of her room for a few minutes reflecting on the previous day before getting ready for today’s work.

Unlike most mornings, this one was unusual in the fact that instead of getting the pick-me-up she needed to start her day, all Yume wanted to do was crawl back into bed. In part, this was due to having nearly been blown up by the Ultima Weapon and actually living to tell the tale, yet her mind wasn’t on the battle. Instead, it was the words of her comrade over the linkpearl that she could not shake off.

“Oh, and don’t even think about dying. You’re too bloody useful!”

Though she had grown accustomed to and actually quite fond of Cid Garlond’s particularly quick wit and jovial nature, that one line single handedly stabbed Yume in the heart.

She knew it was a mere jest, and she was certain that he found her to be more than just useful, as their previous travels together attested to that. Yet, it was because she knew that it was spoken in jest that had upset her the most.

It was a line that attributed to being an inside joke between them, one that would be spoken to amongst friends. Friends...

Yume never realized before now just how much that word could hurt. A friend... was that truly all she was to him? Just a friend? Perhaps a good friend, but... just a friend.

The Raen sipped her tea as she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. Her hands began to shake as she brought the cup back down in front of her.

All those private moments they had shared, the hot springs where they first revealed their scars to one another, the echo vision of both of their most powerful memories, their long talks that lasted far into the night, his gentle caresses of her cheek, his smiling eyes that made her feel on top of the world... had that all been for naught? Had she misread all of it? Was she truly just a friend to him?

Her heart was beating abnormally fast and her hands were shaking so bad that as soon as she reached for her cup of tea once more, the liquid began to spill onto the wooden floor. The flood of emotions crescendoed till they overflowed and tears streamed down her face.

Everything hit her all at once as the truth filled her consciousness and the spoke the words aloud for the first time—

“I love him... I am in love with Cid Garlond...”

The tears fell from her cheeks into the teacup, ripples flowing across the surface as raindrops on a pond.

#seaswolchallenge #prompt 1: crescendo #ffxiv #ffxiv fanfiction #my writing #cid garlond x wol #cid x wol #cid/wol #cid garlond #cid nan garlond #yume aino #oc: paint it black #yume x cid #otp: always you #I’m proud of how fast I spit this one out #I got an idea and ran with it #hope I can tie this into my larger fic somehow #I still need to make a masterlist for this challenge I guess

[vaniccio]

sea’s wol challenge — xix. apart

Thancred doesn't pull his punches. 

Ardbert has known this since day one. And while he's glad the scion isn't holding back, he also can't help but feel like there's something else being worked out here given the ferocity of the attacks. 

He lifts his arms to parry another blow. The impact of the gunblade hitting his axe sends sparks flying and rattles his teeth all the way down his spine. But whereas Thancred excels in mobility, Ardbert wins out in strength, and with a direct hit like this he knows he has the advantage. He sets his jaw, plants his feet, and forces his opponent back.

“Got something you want to discuss?” he asks in the lull that follows. 

Thancred arches a brow. “Thought we already are.” 

Ardbert exhales and adjusts his footing. "Right, then."

The spar drags well into the afternoon.

. . . 

Later, as they retire to the shade of the town’s towers, he considers what might be souring the air between them. He hasn’t insulted anyone—at least not to his knowledge—and they’ve since put the scuffle at the Dravanian Forelands to rest. 

While he ponders if he’s unknowingly committed some sort of Eorzean faux paus, Thancred settles in the space at an arm's length to his right. The man wipes the sweat from his brow, pulls out a canteen, and takes a long swig of it. The silence settles heavily in the space between them, charged and tense in a way that has Ardbert coiled as though he’s gearing for a fight.

"I haven't had a spar like that in some time," Thancred finally says, gaze fixed on a cluster of jutting crystals in the hills ahead. "You certainly know how to put someone through their paces."

Ardbert exhales slowly as some of the tension leaves him. “The feeling’s mutual.” A brief pause. “I can only imagine what you’d be like had you the Echo as well.”

“Ah. A blessing I would surely pass on given the choice. Fainting mid-battle doesn’t sound appealing in the least, thank you kindly.”

That pulls a small smile from him. Perhaps he’s misreading things? "T'is a fickle gift—if one would call it that."

"Most would."

He can sense the man working towards something, talking around the subject. Could practically hear the question sitting at the tip of Thancred’s tongue. He just can't figure out the end goal here, and can’t pinpoint the cause of the hesitation to begin with. 

And after another painfully prolonged silence, he sighs. "You've a question to ask. Ask it."

Thancred gives him a sidelong look and a wry smile. "Please. I'm trying not to be a boor."

"To spare my sensibilities?" Ardbert snorts. "Just ask and be done with it."

"If you so insist." Thancred clears his throat. "What is it like? The resurrection part of the Echo, I mean." He hazards another careful, measured glance at Ardbert. "If you care to share. I understand it can be a private matter."

How do you explain the Echo to someone who doesn't have it? Some parts are self-explanatory and easily relatable, he figures—such as the second wind and burst of strength it grants. But returning from death? The sensation of being woven back together, piece by piece, until you resembled the shape of who you were prior? It was all much more than simply waking from a dreamless slumber.  

"It depends," Ardbert says slowly, leaning forward on his elbows. "The recoveries differ depending on the severity of injury. Some take mere moments to return from. Others… are not so simple to shrug off."  

Thancred weighs his answers with a solemn look. "Do you remember them all?"

"No."

He goes silent at that. Ardbert doesn’t blame him. The implications of missing memories isn’t something he cares to think about either—out of necessity more than anything. Remembering trauma isn’t a pleasant experience. Not for the mind. Not for the body. And as someone who’s passed through death, full and true, he knows better than most what sorts of scars that experience can leave on a person. 

Moments like that leave their mark. They dig deep into the psyche despite the Echo’s insistence of spiriting it all away, and to this day Ardbert finds himself flinching to some deathblows more than others with no rhyme or reason to it all. 

He sighs deeply and turns his head to the setting sun and its warmth, gaze distant and pensive. "Care if I ask a question of my own?"

"By all means. Fair’s fair."

"Why the curiosity? If you’ve no interest in it all."

From the corner of his eye, he can see Thancred mull over the question. "Because," he eventually starts, and there’s a tired note there now, “I find that despite not truly wanting it, I sometimes wonder at how much more I would be able to do. How much more capable I would be." He pauses then, as if weighing the next words carefully. "And... at times, how I’d be able to traverse the shards as you and Mihren do."

And like a gear sliding into place, it all clicks. The frustration. The hidden note of envy. 

"The girl from the Crystarium," Ardbert notes quietly. "You miss her."  

The smile Thancred gives him is weary—but true. "Perhaps," he murmurs. "But we all miss someone.”

#seaswolchallenge #masq writes #we're going well into february with these prompts lmao #the ardbert tag #me busting in with my destiny 2 headcanons on how rezzes via the light work: hi #the light/guardian relationship is something i can go on about for HOURS #and you bet i'm gonna write about the echo working the same way #gotta love that limbo between life and death and existing in both states at once #breaking the laws of reality is some :chef_kiss: stuff #ardbert #thancred

[chysgoda]

Family

Not long after taking sanctuary with House Fortemps, Alphinaud finds himself the only one who can comfort the Warrior of Light’s foster daughter.

Another piece for Sea’s 30 day WoL Challenge

No drastic spoilers just feels

It was nearer to dawn than dusk when Alphinaud dragged himself back into Fortemps Manor. He should have just stayed at the inn attached to the Forgotten Knight, but it would be easier to give the Count a prompt report in the morning if he returned to the manor house. The night footman took his coat and Alphinaud politely declined the offered cup of tea. He felt every step up the stairs and down the hall, even if he did not remember the walk itself. He had placed his hand on the door handle of his assigned room when he heard sniffles and muted tears. He looked at the ceiling. For a moment he hoped that Art’imis or Tataru would miraculously appear  to handle what he was hearing drifting out from the parlor nearest to the Scions rooms. But Art’imis was in Falcon’s Rest and Tataru was working the night shift at the Forgotten Knight. He sighed and dropped his hand back to his side. 

The parlor was not the grandest in the manor, meant as it was to serve as a shared sitting room for the few guest rooms in this hall. But it had the same sturdy elegance he associated with House Fortemps. The fire in the hearth had burnt down to almost nothing and the murky red light cast ghastly shadows about the room. On the couch in front of the fire a pair of drooping lavender ears that shivered slightly in time with the sniffles. Bel Aliender huddled under a blanket that she had dragged off her bed (or possibly her foster mother’s bed) and had wrapped herself tightly around a stuffed chocobo toy. She was obviously trying not to wake anyone up. Alphinaud walked over to the hearth and took up the poker. He pushed the wood about for a moment until the choked fire had enough air to come back to life. For good measure he grabbed a log out of the iron basket and carefully put it on the fire

Alphinaud turned back to the couch to look at the little Miqo’te girl. For a long few moments they stared at each other neither sure what to do with the other. He blew out a breath and sat down at the opposite end of the couch. “Is there something troubling you?”

Bel wringled a bit so that her entire miserably pink face was visible above her cocoon. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

Alphinaud frowned but waved it off. “I am just returning. Why are you out of bed?” 

The child ducked her head back down so he could only see her eyes and ears, for a moment it made him think of a baby adamantoise. “I had bad dreams.”

“About Ul’dah?” Alphinaud had to work hard to keep from flinching. He remembered Ilberd talking Art’imis into bringing the child to a state banquet. Hindsight being what it was now he could see that Ilberd had wanted a bargaining chip that couldn’t fight back. 

“About the lady in white armor and gun gloves.” Bel flinched back from her own words. Alphinaud wanted to kick himself, he’d forgotten that she had been at the Waking Sands during the raid. Urianger and Papolymo had tried to cover long enough to get the child to teleport to Ul’dah and sanctuary with First sword Mylla. 

“Do you need a glass of water?” He floundered for something to say. Bel shook her head and curled tighter around her soft felt companion. He frowned and steeled himself for sobbing tears about wanting Art’imis. For several moments nothing happened and he began to relax. 

“It’s okay if you wanna go to bed. I know you don’t like me.” 

Alphinaud’s breath hissed out as his diaphragm contracted suddenly. He cleared his throat. “I’ve never said that.”

“I heard you talking to Thancred about how Mama gets too distracted by me.” Bel’s voice was small and muffled by the quilt, her ears drooping against her head. “I didn’t like you either. You treated Mama like a cheap sword. Ilberd at least said please” 

He stared at her. He opened his mouth to deny the accusation. He snapped his jaw shut. He raced through his memories. Had he really never said please? Art’imis was just always there, always the shield between Eorzea and everything that threatened the realm. He had always just assumed… 

Alphinaud blinked and looked at Bel forcing himself to actually see the child and connect disparate things he had heard but had not linked together. Urianger and Papalymo had discussed in hushed tones about how she had kept herself together far better than they had expected in a Garlean detention cell. He had interrupted an impromptu knife lesson between Thancred and Bel, looking back with the benefit of hindsight Thancred had been annoyed at the interruption. Minfilia drying tears and listening to some story told through distressed hiccups. Y’shtola teased her about being the Warrior of the Nightlight. This child who’s echo had awoken to protect her from Ifrit’s will and since then caught glimpses into the memories of all the tragedies that plagued the realm. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath so that he could let it out slowly. 

“I can only offer an apology.” Alphinaud looked into the fire ordering his own chaotic thoughts. “I did take your mother for granted, just as I assumed that all my plans could never fail. I don’t think I understand how much my arrogance hurt you in my disregard for Art’imis and yourself.”

Bel pulled her chin up out of the quilt again. “I’m sorry I put nettle powder in your boots that one time.”

Alphinaud blinked for a moment drawing a complete blank. Then he remembered a day in Gridania when his feet had itched and ached to distraction during a meeting with the Elder Seedseer. After the meeting his feet overrode his pride and he’d gone to the conjurers guild. One of the junior conjurers had said it was nettles and he must have walked through something that worked into his boots. He’d had to discard that pair of socks entirely, and have the inside of his boots cleaned three times before he could wear them without an itch. He stared at the little Miqo’te child who watched him with one jade eye and one aquamarine eye. A laugh bubbled up from his gut and he let it escape unfettered. Bel grinned and her ears perked up as her lips curled upwards. 

“Mayhap we could start again?” Alphinaud asked gently. 

Bel loosened her grip on her stuffed toy so that she could hold out her hand. “I’m Bel Aliender.”

“It’s a pleasure Miss Aliender. I am Alphinaud Leveilleur.” He shook her hand firmly. 

Bel wriggled and scooted across the couch so that she could curl up against his side. She grabbed the arm that hovered awkwardly over her and pulled it down to wrap around her shoulders. “Mama forgave you. She told me that even if you’d made bad mistakes you were still our family and we keep and protect what’s ours.” 

Alphinaud’s throat tightened and he hugged the little girl close not trusting that his voice would not crack if he spoke. Next to him Bel yawned and began to slip into sleep. The snap and crackle of the fire in the hearth kept his thoughts company until he drifted off into sleep as well. 

#ffxiv #ffxiv fan fiction #seaswolchallenge #alphinaud leveilleur #bel aliender #family feels #been meaning to write more stuff about these two #older brother and annoying younger sister #red head writes a thing

[allycryz]

WOL Challenge #3: You

[Prompt List Here]

[Filled Prompt List Here]

Haurchefant x Nerys, set immediately after Ardent [Ao3 Link]

Heavensward, right after Inquisition trial and before “Keeping the Flame Alive”

Rating: T for off-screen sex, sex talk

~*This is 2K words, most of it is fluff and I revel in it*~

The Fortemps library is a grand one. Haurchefant is not certain how it compares–he has only been in Haillenarte's with Francel–but imagines it is the finest in Ishgard. His father is a man of letters, a true believer in the power of words. And one who expected his sons to follow suit.

His education differed greatly from his brothers’ the day he became a knight’s page. Even still, his lord father sent him monthly parcels of books. He was expected to read them all and send detailed reports on the contents. Had he ever kept up his thaumaturgy studies, he would have been hard-pressed to find the time.

As it was, he’d stayed up often to fit in the poetry and novels not on the list. Count Edmont was a modern man and his syllabus reflected this–vetted popular authors and poets made it into the parcels. Never in the quantity Haurchefant would have liked. And never some of the one-gil books he bought in The Pillars.

When he was a boy, there were songs for sale about body functions and noises; exaggerated tales of heroes fighting all manner of beasts and foes. As a youth, these became long, violent epics of battles and bravery. As a young man: lurid poems and explicit romance novels. Some as grand and sweeping as the classical romances his Father promoted. Some were not.

He has managed to introduce some contemporary poets into the collection. Not all. Edmont’s tastes in poetry run more traditional. Some of the rising stars of the field are roundly rejected.

Haurchefant is working on that.

Today, he feels romantic in both classic and literal senses. And as his Father has ordered him to stay for a day and night, indulging in a novel sounds just the thing.  It seems that getting trapped in a blizzard–even if things had gone fine, more than fine–means your noble father turns to such decrees.

At least, that is what it means now they are growing close, as they never had been. Another miracle Nerys has wrought with her coming. And as Haurchefant has full faith in Corentiaux and the rest...he allows himself to be thus ordered. 

Someone else is in the library. He can sense it soon as he enters. A soldier learns to tell when others are near, even in safe environs such as this. Haurchefant softens his footfalls, peering about the shelves. There, in the alcove reserved for study, he finds the source of today’s romantic mood.

Nerys looks up, eyes turning soft. His heart swells in his chest, his mouth cannot help but smile. It’s unstoppable and he does not ever want it to cease. Was it really only yesterday? That she told me my love was returned?

It seems a dream now, albeit the sweetest one he has ever had.

Her hands sweep at the papers she has laid out, pulling them into a stack. Flips over the one on top. “Hello.”

“Hello, my dear.” How nice to call her that. “I thought you were on a shopping expedition with Emmanellain?”

“I was.” She touches her neckline. So caught up in her eyes, he hadn’t noticed the gown she wore.

Scarlet as the unicorn on his shield, set off with dangling garnets in her ears. The heart-shaped neckline shows off her elegant neck and collar bones. The sleeves are slashed to reveal white fabric beneath and the cuffs have delicate pearls. “I found this. For when I’m here at the manor and not about to fight Inquisitors or dragons.”

“You are breathtaking in it.” He circles the table to take her hand. Bows over it before pressing his mouth to her knuckles. Etiquette demands he should kiss the air above it but surely exceptions are made for lovers. 

She is my lover now, he thinks in wonder. Her cheeks stain with a fetching indigo shade. “My lord is kind.”

Haurchefant drops to one knee before his lady and turns her hand. Her palm is just as lovely to kiss. “Your lord means everything he says. But if you require further proof of my ardor…”

Nerys darts a glance about before tilting up his chin. Her kiss is sweet and soft and not a little heated. Would that he might lay her upon the table in this temple of learning and know her better.

Alas, Nerys has asked for discretion. Time to better acquaint themselves as lovers before declaring themselves. They are still friends–always will be, if he has anything to do with it–but this dynamic is new and strange. Haurchefant can understand why the most public figure in Eorzea might want some measure of privacy. 

Though, he reflects as he parts from her. Half the fun would be keeping quiet and avoiding discovery.

“I know that look,” she says. “You’re thinking of something lascivious.”

“When I had this look before I confessed, what did you think it meant?”

“The same,” she admits. “But that your love of innuendo was good-natured teasing.”

He heaves a sigh. Either he is not as obvious as Estinien always accuses him or she’d been in deep, deep denial. “Dearest love, how-”

The library doors bang open and the culprit whistles as he walks inside. Haurchefant rises, knowing exactly who it is before he comes into view.

“Old Girl! Old Man!” Emmanellain grins. “You didn’t tell me we were having a party in the library.”

“Impetuous Youth,” Haurchefant shoots back. “What if one of us was deep in study?”

“Oh I don’t deal in ‘what-ifs’. You two are having a conversation, not studying; ergo all is well.” 

“He has a point. I think,” says Nerys. “By the by, if Haurchefant is ‘Old Man’, what do you call your eldest brother?”

The two men exchange looks. Smile. Say in unison, “Artoirel.”

Nerys groans and flaps both hands at them in dismissal. “Go fetch whatever you two were looking for. I am actually working on something.”

“Am I to be banished for my baby brother’s crimes?” Haurchefant presses a hand to his heart. “Mistress Eluned, you wound me.”

“If I must be quiet and meek like a mouse, so must you. After all, I am the true leader of our brotherly trio.”

“You are right of course. I could never compare to you.” Haurchefant shakes his head. “Very well, Impetuous Youth. As mice scurry to cheese, let us go to the books we seek.”

“Ordered to seek,” Emmanellian mutters. “I’m to review Ymbelet’s Theorem of Command and deliver a report. As if we hadn’t put our schooling well behind us.”

Haurchefant does his best to soothe his brother. They quiet down at last: the younger man taking his volume off to his chambers, the elder settling into an armchair within eyesight of Nerys. (Far enough away that she may stop hiding her work.)

His novel is a work of popular fiction he’d garnered approval to stock here. No erotic scenes, but romantic enough. Should he ever get his eyes to stay on the page.

Alas, the white-haired sorcerer-king and his beloved princess and his soul-eating sword are no match for the Warrior of Light. The curve of her cheek. The braided coronet of purple and white hair, crowning her while the rest of her curls are a lovely raiment over her shoulders. The quirk to her dark, sweet lips.

She lifts those golden eyes, meeting him. If he were not already lovestruck and bedazzled, that gaze would ensnare him. He smiles and lifts his shoulders in a helpless shrug. Haurchefant isn’t sorry for lingering before a sunset; and that natural wonder is naught in comparison.

“My lord,” says Nerys, her voice carrying. “May I help you?”

“Nay, Mistress.” He shakes his head. “Simply exist as you are and I am satisfied.”

That is when Alphinaud bursts in, looking drawn and pale. If Haurchefant is annoyed at another interruption, that vanishes at the sight. He jumps to his feet. “My lad! Are you alright?”

The youth shakes his head. “Nerys. Tataru has grave news about General Aldynn. We must be off at once.”

She rises, hurrying over in a rush of white and red silk. In an instant she has changed from playfulness to resolute determination. Always ready to become The Warrior, his Nerys. 

“Do you require anything?” He asks them. “You know my sword is yours, as is any resource at our disposal.”

Alphnaud shakes his head. “No one must see us enter Thanalan or leave. As soon as we cross back into Coerthas, we’ll send word.”

“I thank you. If you needs must bring the General somewhere safe, Camp Dragonhead’s doors are open to you.” If he must return to his command rather than fight at her side, at least he might be of some use to her. He loves–truly loves–his role but lately, his dearest wish is to be a shield at her back and a sword in her arsenal.

Ah, well, even Sorcerer-Kings do not get all they want. Why should he?

He dips into a sweeping bow to them both. Alphinaud returns it before rushing out, every emotion writ upon his usually perfect diplomat’s mask. Should the General die, the youth will carry it as he does everything else that occurred with the Braves. Haurchefant sends a prayer to Halone, asking for mercy on him.

Nerys takes his hand. Squeezes it. He squeezes it back. She smiles before picking up her skirts and rushing afterward.

It proves impossible to focus after that, even more than before. For a moment he entertains armoring up and following. This isn’t Dragonhead and so none of the knights with orders to keep him safe are here. (That time with Iceheart, Corentiaux had actually sat upon him.)

But they have asked he stay behind. So he will.

Haurchefant can take care of Nerys’ papers for her. He means to pointedly not look at the contents. He truly does. But he sees a piece of paper with his name on top, another with his last name, and his resolve crumbles.

The first piece of paper is titled “Minako” in large, neat letters. Beneath are names like Mamoru, Umino, Motoki. Her Yellow Chocobo is named Minako. Therefore, this is for…

The next sheet of paper confirms his suspicions. Under the heading “Black Chocobo” are the names Endymion, Starlight, Twilight, Onyx. Below that, a subheading “Elegance” with virtue monikers: Noble, Dignity, Charming.

And so, when he arrives to the last three papers (titled “Haurchefant”, “Greystone”, and “Fortemps”), he cannot contain his joy. The little note scribbled atop “Haurchefant” tickles him further. He gave you the Chocobo and you adore him. Will he be offended? He might be offended. 

Haurchefant is certainly not offended. 

He delights in the candidates, even some of the ones she crossed out. Sadly, there is no option for “Haurchefant” or “Haurchefant II.” I suppose that might get confusing.

Grinning, he picks up her leather folio and tucks her work inside. Hopefully, she will forgive his snooping because he has some ideas about this.

--

The Lord Commander’s bed at Camp Dragonhead may be the most comfortable place in Eorzea.

Nerys should get up to clean, brush her teeth, all the little nighttime rituals. But she is so pleasantly exhausted and the blankets are so soft and warm. She stretches, luxuriating in the feel of them against her skin. It has been a harrowing few days since her abrupt departure from Ishgard. But all is well and now, she feels nothing but comfort.

The bed could be warmer with her companion. But then she wouldn’t get to see his bare bottom as he slips into the bathroom. Halone must adore him to bless him with such a lovely rear.

“My love,” he calls after a while. “I have a confession to make.”

“Oh? Should I be worried?”

“I hope not.” He returns with a washcloth, his black silk robe barely closed against the cold. The fireplace sends flickers of light across his sculpted chest.  “I may be overstepping but...I must say that I truly adore the name Grey. Though Tempsy is charming. Also, may I suggest Haurchon?”

What does he...oh. Oh! Nerys groans and buries her face in a pillow. She had been in such haste to rescue Raubahn–rightfully so!–that she had left all her papers there. All face up, all in the open.

The mattress dips as Haurchefant sits beside her. One hand strokes her hair, gentle and sweet. “I should not have pried but Nerys–my dearest one–I am utterly and truly touched by the idea. Though of course, if you pick a different name I will not be offended.”

“I only...well, I wouldn’t have him if not for you,” she mutters into the pillow, heat filling her face. “And if not for him, we wouldn’t have been in Coerthas that day.”

“So we owe him a great honor, for bringing us together at last.” His lips press against her bare shoulder. “Of course, the truest honor would be to name him after yourself-”

She turns then, mortification at last leaving her. Cups his face in her hands. “I am not playing this game where we go on for hours about who is better.  Let’s agree it’s you and end it there.”

“Oh my love,” he sighs, bending down to her. “Though you are wrong, I must obey if it proves to you the depth of my regard.”

“I know another way you could prove it,” she says, pulling him atop her.

--

Grey likes his name.

#seaswolchallenge #nerys eluned #haurchefant greystone #haurchefant x wol #emmanellain de fortemps #Alphinaud Leveilleur #they're cute! #I love them #I love writing him when he's in love #and he is so often in love #:3 #ally writes

[mortuislupus]

beware the teeth of emaciated beasts.

𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙟𝙖𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙗𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩. FERALITY: the quality of being feral // (especially of an animal) in a wild state, especially after escape from captivity or domestication. PROMPT ONE | MASTERLIST | WORD COUNT | SONG INSPO: drip. TW: patricide??? murder?? no spoilers but someone gets shot.

                            When I bite down I don't stop until my teeth are touching.                               When I'm hungry I don't rest until my fangs are bloody.                                                   I don't stop until they meet.                                                  I DON’T REST UNTIL I EAT.

                                                                   [ halatali, eastern thanalan ]

Her shoulders rolled. Her jaw locked. Her eyes remained steady.

There was always a bit of wolf within the girl; a mangy, emaciated beast clawing at the sinew; threatening to come out when she least expected it; begging for her to let it show it’s teeth. He had always thought her animalistic --- less than human, unworthy of the things that would make a person whole, and it was a dull acceptance that heralded him within these corrupt halls.

He cared about Ala Mhigo when it suited him. Much like he cared about anything. A suave word to Ilberd and a trip across the seas would have been an easy task if it came with the possibility of dispatching her and his smug, self assured smile was enough for the anxiety within her to froth rabidly. 

A breath in her lungs. She was still alive.

“Filicide, father? Can’t be a first.” Not when her sister’s bones disintegrated beneath the soil of La Noscea, and her dead-eyed stare followed Kor like a shade. Not when Dimitri’s smile tugged wider at the mention, his hand thumb circling the safety of his gun like an idle habit, and she knew --- as she had always known --- his hands were never clean.

“It’s time to stop playin’ hero, girl,” he answered, those same amber eyes meeting hers with cool indifference. He wasn’t drunk for once, which gave him equal measure of her and hers, and it was all he could do to laugh. “No’ that there ain’t much heroism in this. A child, a refugee and a war criminal. Warrior of Light, they say? Nah, you’re too dim-witted ---”

Alphinaud, who remained an ever present fixture at her side, had moved to speak, only to be silenced by the weakened, heavy hand of Raubahn. It was fortunate that, for it allowed the snarl to emerge from deep within Kor.

“Shut. Up.” Remember, you are more than a girl. A storm --- a hurricane. For everything he had said she was not, she had achieved so much more.

“--- a waste.” His voice reflected a growl. They were not too dissimilar in that way. Kor let out an incredulous laugh, arms spreading wide at her side.

“So have you come to stop me?” she asked. “Then you will have to kill me yourself, coward.”

“Kor, please reconsider ---”  Alphinaud interjected.

“The Limsan way,” Dimitri agreed. She understood. Without a word spoken to her companions she strode towards her father, a hand in her pocket to retrieve the bullets for her musket. His smile broke clean into a grin.

A duel. As old as Vylbrand herself; it was not uncommon for a dispute of power to be concluded by a bullet and the death of a captain, though Kor was sceptical that her father would remain honourable. But it was the tongue-in-cheek nature of him --- the kind who clung to old traditions that did not apply to him. He’d cheated his way through Limsan Lominsan ranks by parroting their customs and he would use them to undermine his daughter.

For a second the two of them were close enough to touch. Dimitri still wore smug satisfaction on his face like a child eating cake and it was all she could do to pledge herself to the idea that the Echo surely could not fuck up when it came to something like this. At least she hoped not.

They turned their backs to each other and Kor looked to Raubahn. He knew the customs of Limsa from negotiations, and his single nod gave her confirmation that he would carry her as best he could in fairness. Both she and Dimitri took three steps each, steeping themselves in the silence.

“On three. Three, two ---”

The first noise was a crunch of a foot against the soil. The second were two gunshots simultaneously after each other. Blood splattered against her cheek. Kor did not flinch.

However, her father did. From his eye a gaping hole emerged, a ironic mimicry of the gaping pits reflected in Lily when she was pulled from foamy shores. The neurons in his brain now fractured and fried began to fire wildly though the only result lay in two shots fired at their feet. His remaining eye met hers with a trembling iris and Dimitri slid to his knees. Kor’s head tilted back to look at him as if he were little more than a gnat and, as she stepped forward, she kicked him hard against the ground.

“Fuck you, you dishonourable prick.” He would never bank on the third, the Echo had told her as much. Alphinaud broke Raubahn’s hold to rush to her side and he and Yugiri followed suit behind him. Yet Yugiri did not immediately go to Kor’s side. With a marked gaze the shinobi’s gaze washed over Dimitri’s body, noting the twitches of his muscles, but knowing the truth.

“He is dead.” She said impassively, though Kor didn’t expect he would still be alive. Alphinaud placed a hand on her arm and it was then he’d realise how much she was shaking.

“Are you alright, my friend?” came his quiet ask. Looking briefly to him and then back to Dimitri’s body, Kor nodded once and stowed her gun. Her other hand reached for the blood on her face and tried to wipe it away.

“Yes. I will be. Let’s leave this miserable fucking place.”

#seaswolchallenge #I'M A FEW DAYS EARLY TO THE PIECE BUT I DID SAY THAT WOULD HAPPEN #anyway hello i bring angst #or uh #oh yeah baby it's angst time #will i drabble a song that isn't crywolf? #absolutely not

[fheythfully]

sea's WoL challenge - awakening

She dies from a stray bullet intended for no one.

The shot is fired by a recruit still young in his years with shaking arms and sweat slicking down his temples. He has fired many bullets this battle, but this is the first bullet he does not mean to send. When Bahamut springs free from his ancient prison and sweeps the battlefield with a mighty roar, all troops on either side stop fighting to stare aghast at the mighty primal and the desolation he brings. A streak of lightning-fast fire lands only ilms away from where the recruit is watching with his mouth agape, and the shock sends his finger - still on the trigger, despite the years of harsh military training beating him out of it - to spasm and fire the gunblade in his hand.

The bullet flies free and strikes a small, inconsequential girl dressed in Limsan fighting leathers too big for her body staring up at the sky. It is a clean shot, burying itself straight through her chest piece and coming out the other side. Satella Grace dies from a stray bullet and no one notices her collapse, too caught up in watching Bahamut wreak havoc across the land.

.

She awakens slowly. Her body feels weighed down with a particularly good dream and her eyes fight to flutter open, body resisting the call of the morning light. Her bed is pleasantly heated by early Lominsan sun and Ella sighs into its comfortable warmth, curling her limbs closer together.

A woman’s chuckle drifts through her sleep-heavy thoughts. “Truly, this is how you wish to die?”

Her brow furrows in confusion. Her mother's words are muddled with remnants of her dreams and she sloughs through the fog. Petulantly, she whines--

“Five more minutes, mama.”

Her mother hums noncommittally in reply. “Oh, dear. You really don't want to wake up, do you?” Her hand smoothes down her hair. “Helena has just arrived for you,” she continues. “You mean to keep her waiting?”

The world of her dreams pulls at her with a beckoning hand. “She won't mind,” the girl murmurs. “I'll join her soon, I promise. Can you tell her that?”

A lengthy pause is her response. “Very well,” her mother says after several moments. “If that's what you wish, then I can certainly do that.”

“Thanks,” she sighs. The call of sleep grows further insistent and she falls to it, curling closer into herself as if a tiny child once more. With great effort she squints open one eye to look at her mother and has the brief, inexplicable moment of seeing a hooded face with curled lips smiling down at her before the effort becomes too much and she turns back to the warmth of her bed.

“See you in a bit,” she mutters, already asleep. She hears her mother laugh.

“See you in a bit,” she agrees.

.

The powerful magics of a wizened mage sweep across the battlefield and bathe it in blue light. Ella sits up from where she had tripped just as it passes through her, and with tears in her eyes, clasps her hands together and casts a prayer unto the sky.

Oh, great Llymlaen, grant us strength to stand against that which would do us harm…

#another short one due that I fully intend to expand on one day soon #my writing #seaswolchallenge

[keeperofthe-mxxn]

Prompt: You. we dont do much but hyperfixate on DRK in this household. so this is from the perspective of Fray.

You. Well what about me? There’s really nothing to know. I don’t like my life on blast like some people do and it has no business being broadcast. I’m much more comfortable in the shadows or just another person walking the streets. But being acquainted with a legend makes it hard to stay outta the limelight. I feel for him really. He’ll tell me how he wishes he weren’t so well known so he could just live quietly. Live in Ishgard of all places. Like why though? This place is filthy, crawling with injustice. But I guess that’s something he likes; being a great hero and all, running around fixing injustices. I mean in the time he’s been in Ishgard, their thousand year grudge match with the dragons was ended, the archbishop was killed, and an entirely new form of government was instituted. It’s madness almost the amount of change in such a short period.

You. I guess this wasn’t really about me and all the better for it. I’ve heard they went off to the far East now. Just what are you playing at here hero? Running around and doing the impossible. Giving people hope that the world isn’t as cruel as they pegged it. Always one upping yourself. Was killing some imperials no longer good enough, you had to come and end a war? Then when that had become old news you set your sights on nation liberation. What’s next? You gonna save the entire realm by storming Garlemald and tearing it down brick by brick? There’s no such thing as the sky’s the limit with you is there? Just make sure you don’t buy too much into your own legend and bite off more then you can chew. I’d hate to see you fall so foolishly. You’ve grown on me.

 You. Chaos has befallen the mighty Scions. I hear they all one by one collapsed and didn’t get back up. But they aren’t dead. I tried to find you you know? I admit I may have let myself get too attached to you. It’s something I’m not sure I entirely like or despise. I needed to see you with my own eyes to reassure myself you were still up and kicking. Too late I guess. They say you collapsed in battle with that Zenos guy. With no real answers on this mysterious condition I had all but resigned that you’d bit the dust. Then you woke. Always one to defy odds you were. i tried to come see you in person but I couldn’t get in the building. That man you’re in love with came and personally attended you so I suppose that’s alright. You need people who actually care for your wellbeing around you. Not these Scions and leaders that only are interested in what you can give them. It burns me something fierce to see the way they treat you. The way you let them treat you. But I know deep down you wish to tell them off sometimes so you’re not a complete lost cause. I’m finding it increasingly harder with each passing day to not just shove everyone aside and take you away from them. You don’t deserve this treatment.

 You. How you love to make me worry sick about you. That Scion secretary is running around like a chicken with its head cut off. You were finally taken by this mysterious affliction. I hope they are doing everything to try and get you back. I couldn’t care less if the others made it back to the world of the living. I don’t care for them like I care for you. People are doing their best to remain optimistic but I’m not seeing a lot of productivity in tryna figure out what the fuck has happened to the Scions. This seems like the prime time for the Empire to make a move with all the defenders down for the count. Apparently, there was chaos as well inside the palace and the Emperor was killed. By his own son. Please come back soon hero.

 You. Maybe miracles do exist. All scions came back, you included, in one piece. I’d say none the worse for wear but ive seen you out in public. The way you jump at certain things, shrink away from reaching hands. Wherever you were something broke inside you. And none of them seem to give a damn. They’re right back to sending you out to do things like nothing had ever happened. Honestly that’s it. That is IT. That is all I will sit passively by and watch happen to you. I’ll come be your backbone since you clearly don’t have the common sense to use your own. I’ll teach you to use it.

#seaswolchallenge #ffxiv drk #fray myste #ffxiv

[enchantingwrath]

it eats at you / this responsibility of righteousness

/ the destruction wreaked in the name of the sanctimonious. PROMPT ONE | MASTERLIST | WORD COUNT: 479 | SONG INSPO: The War We Made crescendo: the highest point reached in a progressive increase of intensity. //  increase in loudness or intensity.

Hear a voice when the light is gone Never know whose side it's on

There was something unsettling about the dim lighting of an ocean without the sea — a null void of land that did not seem quite right — especially as the lighting of an undersea city that was not meant to belong met her violet hues. The lack of water around them was her doing, a request of the Bismarck — for the greater good. That’s what the xaela always had to tell herself as her journey went on, further and further — muddying the paths she walked with the dirt she tracked upon her feet, with the blood she’d stepped in to make the world a better place — this is for the greater good. An ecosystem ruined? A beast tribe left without food? It matters not when the fate of the world hangs in the balance. Surely, surely they will thank us in the end. How could they not? We were their heroes.

An increase in heart rate — pounding out of her chest — as breaths began to heave. There was a slickness to her palms that hadn’t been there moments prior and there was an anger that welled up within her. At herself, at the nature of the world — when would she be given her break? When would the world be allowed to rest — to repair the damage they had done in the name of righteousness? Would there even come the day? Monsters never seemed to stop forming — whether it was eikon, ascian or garlean in nature, there was always another. A never ending barrage. Always more cause for destruction, another calamity wrought upon the worlds. Would it ever end? 

Am I alone? Am I alright? Am I insane? Am I alive? What does it take to Stop waging war with?

“ Jade ? ” The voice came soft, alarmingly gentle, startling her out of her thoughts that had set her on guard and it took everything she had not to draw her rapier in her fright. Alphinaud’s concerned gaze met her own, and she forced herself to take a breath. “ Are you alright ? ”

“ Fine. I’m fine. ” Jade couldn’t help the snap, the tone in the words that escaped her was harsher than it meant to be — a warning to leave it alone. An agitation to her that she could not control. This place was getting the best of her — it felt wrong, but she knew it somehow. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d been here before and it once again sent her emotions spiking — her brain firing off distress signals as she tried to choke it all back, to appear normal in front of those that accompanied her. “ It just… feels odd… to be in an ocean that does not have water, does it not? ”

Waking up from myself To a life outside this hell No more lies, no more pain You can't fight the war we made

She’d brush it off always — her feelings, the attacks that came, the anxiety that bubbled within did not matter against the path she was cursed to walk. 

Atlas was not allowed to fall and neither was she. 

( @seaswolchallenge​ )

#starting off with an anxiety attack #nice #seaswolchallenge #fiery's seaswolchallenge #. you cannot fall; you cannot break { verse 002 ; warrior of light. }

[seaswolchallenge]

Hello everyone! This challenge is coming out earlier than I plan on launching them going forward --- aka., a two-three week break in between each prompt list. I wanted to promote this blog properly now that it’s up, and actually commit to myself to do more of my own challenge now that I’m not busy with work. Welcome to the offical blog for Sea’s ( @gatheredfates ) WoL Challenge!

Here are the breif guidelines for engaging with these prompts, which you can also find here:

Your character does not need to be a WoL to participate in the challenge; however, the core blog caters to those people who have a WoL verse or strictly write their character that way. If you’re someone who believes in the concept of mary-sues, hates npc x oc shipping, etc., I’d encourage you not to participate and hide the tag for the challenge as needed. I will not tolerate anon hate and will block and blacklist people accordingly.

Currently there are no prizes for completion of the challenge(s). This is for fun!

There is no order to which you need to do the prompts. You can also sub in different words if one doesn’t vibe with you, as well as skip days.

Similarly, you can return to older prompts at a later date to complete them at your leisure. There is no punishment for people who finish the challenge late. Your work will still be reblogged and shared.

Length of a prompt doesn’t matter! Write twenty or two thousand words.

Use the tag #seaswolchallenge or @seaswolchallenge so I can see what you have written! All completed works will be reblogged onto this blog. If you do not see your prompt, please shoot me an ask/im with the link

All works will be queued to avoid spamming peoples’ dashboards. If you do not see your prompt right away, or it takes a few days from the initial post, this is why!

This challenge will run from 8 JUNE and ( technically ) conclude on 8 JULY for those who do one prompt a day. As always, please feel free to reblog this and tag your friends to write with you!

#final fantasy xiv #crystal rp #balmung #mateus #prompt list #seaswolchallenge #june2020

[starrysnowdrop]

Prompt #11: You

For @seaswolchallenge’s WoL Challenge- January 2021

Yume Aino x Cid Garlond

594 Words

Post 2.0, about a week after the battle with the Ultima Weapon and a continuation of the prompts Crescendo, Caress, and Instinct (Please read those first!)

“Cid! How did you know I was here?”

“Oh, I just had to trust my instincts. After all, I think I should be able to find the woman I love when she’s in distress.”

“...What did you say?”

Cid stretched out his hand, offering it to the Raen. Yume stepped forward and grasped his hand with hers. Though she was shaking, she interlinked her fingers around his. This gesture gave him the courage to lean in closer to her till their faces were mere ilms apart and Yume could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. Cid looked deep into her ocean blue eyes, as he lowered his voice to barely above a whisper.

“Yume, what I said back in the Praetorium... I spoke in jest, but it was in very poor taste. I was not aware that you would take offense, but it doesn’t excuse my actions.” Cid shook his head and frowned. “I am truly sorry. You are the last person that I would ever want to hurt.”

The Garlean took a deep breath before continuing, “If I had just told you the truth, I wouldn’t have caused you all of this pain in the first place.”

With eyes glistening, Yume smiled coyly, “Cid—Is there something you wish to tell me?”

Cid chuckled at her throwing his line back to him. Smiling, he reached out with his free hand and gently cupped her scaled cheek, as he purred, “Yume... I love you...”.

Before Yume could fully process what he had just said, Cid slowly brought his lips to hers, with the softest touch. Their lips connected for a few moments before Cid pulled back to access her reaction.

Yume’s breath caught in her throat as she looked deep into Cid’s silver eyes and liltingly replied, “I love you too.”

This time she surprised him as she ran her hand through his white hair and pressed her lips to his with a firey intensity that he was certainly not expecting.

Electricity shot through both of them as they wrapped their arms around each other and melted into the kiss. Cid lightly brushed his tongue against her lips, and Yume welcomed him in. Their tongues danced together as the Au Ra moaned with pleasure.

Hearing her breathy sounds sparked Cid to grow bold. He reached down and grabbed Yume by her hips and pulled her even closer to him, so their bodies pressed against each other. He broke their kiss to plant light kisses along her jawline and down her neck.

Yume gasped as she held the back of his head while he began to gently suck on her neck. “Oh Cid...”

He softly moaned as he continued to kiss and suck on her neck until he heard Yume’s soft voice ask him, “Cid?”

Immediately, Cid stopped and lifted his head back to look at his beloved. “Hmm?”

“Why me?”

Cid could not help but to chuckle. “Why you? Why not you? It has always been you.”

Yume smiled brightly as Cid ran his hands along the ivory scales of her neck and down her shoulders.

“Now, before my little bird flies away again, I would ask if you will accompany me back to Revenants Toll? I left the Enterprise not too far from here.”

The Raen smirked before she replied, “On one condition.”

“Anything.”

Yume lifted herself up to give Cid a quick kiss. “Stay with me tonight... please.”

Cid was taken aback by the request, as it was quite unexpected. His eyes widened momentarily before he quickly nodded.

“Of course...”

#seaswolchallenge #prompt 11: you #ffxiv fanfiction #my writing #cid garlond x wol #cid x wol #cid/wol #cid nan garlond #cid garlond #yume aino x cid garlond #yume x cid #oc: paint it black #otp: always you #I DID IT #I finally wrote their first kiss #wooooooooooo #now I can rest a bit

[vaniccio]

sea’s wol challenge — i. crescendo

The celebrations in the Musica Universalis can be heard all throughout the night. The entire Crystarium itself seems to be alive—it’s always had a determined verve to it, a rebellious streak in the face of inevitability and death when compared to the rest of Norvrandt—but the energy coursing through it tonight was different. More hopeful. Less inhibited. 

For once, no one was drinking to forget what the future held. At least not when she last strolled through the pub. 

“Not going to join them?” Ardbert asks, somewhere in the inn room from her left the moment she steps through the door. 

“Maybe another time.”

“Seems strange for the hero of the hour to go missing at a time like this. Or are you not a fan of large celebrations?”

She can feel him move—a silent spectre from the corner of her eye. The lack of footsteps and shuffling of armor was unsettling once; he was not a subtle man by any means. 

“It’s not that,” she says, settling against the window ledge. “Though my experiences with large celebrations isn’t that great, either.”

“Can’t hold your liquor?” 

That pulls a snort out of her. “Please.”

The single raised eyebrow tells her exactly what he’s thinking. “Do me a favor, then? Enjoy a tankard. For the both of us.” 

“You’re strangely determined to have me celebrate,” she notes wryly, but gets up towards the table all the same. A habit she’s picked up—not being able to say no to him. 

“And you’re strangely determined not to.” 

All of the ale is downstairs. The inn room, however, is stocked with some sort of Norvrandt wine. Ardbert eyes it with distaste the entire time she fiddles with the cork but seems otherwise appeased at the compromise. 

The taste sits bitter against her lips with a hint of something sweet—raspberries? Blackberries? Whatever it is, it seems oddly fitting. Her smile thins. 

“I’m not keen on celebrating,” she eventually says, swirling the glass and nursing her drink in the silence that follows. “Because I’m not finished yet.” 

He crosses his arms. The lack of noise from his armor snags her attention again. No leather rustles. No light clink of metal. The silence of his movements echoes through her head like a broken church bell. “Is there another Lightwarden you’re expecting to fight?” 

She forces her gaze to the floor. “No.”

“Another Ascian, then?”

“There’s always another Ascian,” she mumbles, glaring at a tile by his feet. “But no.” 

“Then—”

“Ardbert.”

His gaze is piercing as she sits quietly at the table. The celebrations below seem to swell in opposition to her silence—and a crescendo of laughter joined by a sharp popping noise has her thinking someone finally brought out the sparklers.

She wonders if he knows what’s rattling around in her mind. She likes to think that he does, because he’s gotten eerily good at predicting her moods and words the longer she’s stayed on the First. So as he considers her from across the room, she patiently takes another small sip and lets her thoughts spiral. The wine is warm going down her throat and leaves a slight burn that chases off some of the more chilling thoughts. 

The battle with Emet-Selch could’ve ended another way. She’s done a good enough job avoiding thinking about those outcomes, avoiding the ‘what-if’s’ and ‘could haves’, but now that there’s finally a quiet moment with no Lightwarden threat or the promise of another Flood...

“That’s not something you should be worrying over right now,” Ardbert finally says. She catches the small sigh as his shoulders slightly drop. “Better to enjoy this victory with your friends. Take a breather. The rest… it’s another fight for another day.” 

“Mm.” The rest of the Scions were downstairs mingling, she knows—and Alisaie will probably be knocking down her door in the next few minutes. And really, what they all pulled was nothing short of a miracle. 

Still. She’s always been a bit selfish. “Sit with me?” 

“Only if you go downstairs and have some proper ale.” 

A small smile curves her lips as he remains standing. Stubborn to the last. “You know I’m not actually a fan of it.” 

“And that’s a damn tragedy. Have you even tried the sort here?” 

She tries to curb her growing smile. “...yes.” It comes out like a question.  

He rolls his eyes, then nods his head at the door. “Right. That’s that. Get down there and enjoy a tankard, as I said. I promise it’s better than whatever you’ve got in that glass.”

“Bold words.”

“Bolder tastes, too,” he says with a slight smile. “Now get going. Before your friends come knocking and asking questions.” 

She’s still not in the celebratory mood, but he was right that taking a breather was a good idea. They’ll figure out the last bit of this puzzle another day.

#i'm.. not sure what this is but we're shaking off the rust! #i really wanna do the challenge this month #seaswolchallenge #masq writes #astra inclinant #might be a day behind but that's okay #ardbert x wol #the mihren tag

[chysgoda]

Reaper

DEATH comes for Emet-Selch

For Seas WoL challenge, technically not about WoL but I’m working through some things. Also this is one of two stories that feature Discworld’s DEATH.

So have a Discworld crossover and some light 5.0 spoilers

HADES

Emet-Selch looked out at the desert of glittering black sand. Then again that title could no longer apply. Perhaps if he ignored the spector behind him it would go away.

THIS IS QUITE IRREGULAR. I AGREEDED TO A VACATION NOT A REPLACEMENT

Hades sighed and turned around. The skull with blue fire eyes somehow managed to look both reproving and sympathetic. “Yes, yes there were extenuating circumstances.”

YOU RAN OUT OF TIME THREE THOUSAND YEARS AGO.

Hades did his best to hide his amusement at DEATH’s sulking tone. “Apologies my friend.”

DEATH shoved his scythe at the former convocation member. Hades took the tool and watched as another simply appeared in the skeletal hand. Black robes enveloped him when his fingers closed around the silver bladed scythe. DEATH considered Hades and sighed.

YOUR WORLD HAS NEED OF THE CARE OF ITS REAPER.

YES

Hades looked down at the black wood in his hands and sighed thinking of the deaths that he had tried to fight and restore. He looked up to the unmeasurable stretch of the black desert and the mountains in the distance. Around him there were soft puffs of sand as the souls of Amaurotines, Eorzeans, Allagans, and so many others began their journeys in this place with no time. None were any more or less mortal than the other, something he had lost sight of during his “sabbatical”.

YES, FOR IN THE END THERE IS ONLY THE CARE OF THE REAPER.

#ffxiv #ffxiv fan fiction #discworld death #let’s add in some discworld #emet selch #redhead does a thing #I wrote this over lunch no idea if it’s any good but it did what I needed it to do #seaswolchallenge #seaswolchallenge Reaper #gnu terry pratchett