#soul lonely as a steppe

[sweetvoidstuff]

Soulbound II Cha Hyun Su x Reader

Written for @neohumanmonster Valentine's Event

Tropes: Soulmate Marks

Cha Hyun Su x Reader

Summary: You are on a quest to find your soulmate, Cha Hyun Su, amidst the chaos of monstrous transformations it leads to an unexpected alliance and a bond that defies the darkness consuming the world.

Potential trigger warnings: Themes of apocalypse, monstrous transformations, loss of loved ones, grief, existential despair, and emotional turmoil.

Masterlist

~~~~~

In a world that is at its last leg, where humanity teetered on the brink of extinction due to a mysterious affliction that turned individuals into monstrous beings fueled by their strongest desires, you embarked on a journey to find your soulmate, someone called Cha Hyun Su. It was a quest born from the innocent discovery of his name etched on your wrist on your 14th birthday, that happens to everybody. A revelation that ignited a desire to learn the foreign language on your skin and seek him out once you were of age.

Years later, as you finally set foot in the distant land where you hoped your soulmate resided, the world around you plunged into madness. Humans began transforming into grotesque creatures, their desires mutating them beyond recognition and manifested in grotesque transformations, twisting individuals into monstrous beings. It hadn't been two weeks since your arrival when the first cases of monstrous transformation began to surface. Yet, your determination to find Hyun Su remained unwavering, even as the whispers of transformation echoed in your own soul.

Despite experiencing symptoms of transformation yourself, your determination to find your soulmate eclipsed the monstrous urges clawing at your soul. You became a half-monster, straddling the line between humanity and monstrosity as you navigated the perilous landscape in search of your Soulmate. Your own voice mocking your wish to find your soulmate at every stepp on your journey, but you were determined. You wouldn’t let yourself turn, wouldn’t die in a foreign country, not till you saw him. You hadn’t put yourself throw all this hardship for your other half to simply take the easy way out. But her laughter, that he might have, that all your sacrifice are in vain got to you.

Amidst the desolation, you encountered a lone survivor, a man who had lost his own soulmate to the darkness consuming the world. His tale weighed heavy on your heart, threatening to extinguish the flicker of hope that burned within you. But you pressed on, driven by the promise of love and companionship.

Days turned into nights, and the lines between friend and foe blurred in the merciless wilderness. You formed an unlikely alliance with the lone survivor, finding solace in each other's company as you shared stories of loss and longing. Together, you braved the dangers lurking around every corner, clinging to the hope that your soulmate awaited you somewhere in the chaos.

Returning to your makeshift camp one evening, you witnessed a heartbreaking scene unfold before your eyes. A girl, her face contorted with fear, pushed away your companion. All you could do was to watch helplessly as he succumbed to the monstrous transformation within seconds.

The night air was thick with tension as you stood, tears streaking down your cheeks, confronted by the reality of your friend's transformation. His once-human form twisted and contorted, consumed by the darkness that now ruled the world. Anguish and rage warred within you as you struggled to comprehend the cruelty of fate.

The girl responsible for his transformation stood before you, her expression a mix of fear and defiance. But your grief drowned out any semblance of reason, leaving only a burning desire for retribution. You moved towards her, fueled by a primal need to lash out at the injustice that had stolen your friend from you.

But before you could act, a figure emerged from the shadows, his presence commanding attention. His voice cut through the chaos like a knife, halting your advance with a single word: "Enough."

You turned towards him, your anger still smoldering beneath the surface. "Enough?" you spat, your voice thick with emotion. "Look at him! She turned him! He was a person! He was my friend."

Tears continued to flow unabated as you struggled to articulate the depth of your sorrow. The weight of loss threatened to crush you, but you refused to yield to despair. You had come too far, fought too hard to let tragedy define you.

The boy before you watched, his expression a mirror of your own heartache. His eyes burned with a fierce intensity, as if trying to convey a message that words alone could not express. And then, almost hesitantly, he spoke.

"I am sorry," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Your anger flared anew at his apology, the injustice of it all too much to bear.

„Sorry doesn’t really cut it. He…“ fighting the tears, you continued. „He was fighting. It was hard, but he was holding on, trying. Even after his soulmate turned. Now he is just, flesh trapped by his desire. Just keep her away from me!“ you said. But as you wiped away your tears, you felt a spark of recognition deep within your soul but brushing it away, angryly starting to pack your stuff. The boys eyes burned at your movement, his expression mirroring the anguish in your heart. Watching every muscle you moved. With a trembling voice, he quietly called out your name, and you looked up, shock written across your face. The name etched on your skin suddenly felt heavier, more significant than ever before.

You looked up at him, your gaze locking with his own. His eyes held a mixture of hope and fear, as if uncertain of what your reaction would be. And then, with a voice filled with equal parts disbelief and longing, you spoke his name.

"Cha Hyun Su?"

He nodded slowly, his expression one of quiet acceptance. It was him. Your soulmate. The realization washed over you like a wave, sweeping away the doubts and fears that had plagued you for so long.

Hyun Su’s heart clenched at the sight of your tears, the weight of your journey etched in every drop that fell from your eyes. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out hesitantly, as if afraid you might vanish before his eyes. But you remained rooted to the spot, unable to tear your gaze away from him.

People had made fun of the foreign name on his arm. A lazy foreigner he would never even have the chance to meet they said. But now you were here bevor him, at practically the end of the world, alive and well and speaking his language. “I didn’t know you were still alive. Or even this close to me,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with equal parts disbelief and relief.

You sniffled, trying to compose yourself as a wave of emotions threatened to overwhelm you. “You have no idea what hell I walked through to find you,” you admitted, your voice trembling with raw emotion.

But despite the tears staining your cheeks, there was a glimmer of hope in your eyes, a sense of peace that came with finally finding your soulmate amidst the chaos.

Hyun Su reached out tentatively, his hand trembling as it hovered in the air between you. His gaze flickered with uncertainty, his mind filled with doubts and fears about what you might think of him now that his true nature was revealed.

"I... I don't know if I'm safe to be around," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm... I'm not fully human anymore."

Your heart ached at the pain and insecurity reflected in his eyes. Gently, you took his hand in yours, offering him a reassuring smile.

"It doesn't matter," you said softly, your voice filled with conviction. "Nowhere is safe anymore, and you are my soulmate. I just want to finally get to know you. I want to find out myself who you are."

His breath caught in his throat at your words, the weight of your acceptance washing over him like a soothing balm. Slowly, hesitantly, he closed the distance between you, his hand enveloping yours in a gentle embrace.

"You... you're not afraid of me?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

You shook your head, your gaze unwavering as you met his eyes.

"No," you replied firmly. "I'm not afraid. In fact, I've been trying to hold onto my humanity, to stay true to myself, all because I wanted to meet you, my soulmate."

A flicker of emotion passed across his features, a mixture of awe and gratitude.

"You... you are like me?" he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Yes," you said, squeezing his hand gently. "And now that we've found each other, nothing else matters."

His doubts began to melt away in the warmth of your acceptance, replaced by a newfound sense of hope and belonging. With a sense of determination burning in his heart, he leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours.

"I'm here now," he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath against your skin. "And I'm not letting you go."

Your heart swelled with love and gratitude as you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. Together, you knew you could face whatever challenges lay ahead, united by a bond that transcended the darkness consuming the world. In each other's embrace, you found solace and strength, ready to take on whatever the future held.

#cha hyun su x reader #sweet home netflix #sweet home x reader #cha hyun soo #cha hyun soo x reader #cha hyunsu #sweet home #sweet home imagines #kdrama #song kang #cha hyun su #cha hyunsoo #sweet home 2 #hyun su #hyun soo #one shot

[echo-goes-mmm]

One Week (Oneshot)

My Writing Masterpost

Warnings: enthrallment, mentioned non-sexual nudity

“Is Master home yet?” asked Pet, his hands on Leon’s knees as Pet kneeled on the floor.

“Not yet,” said Leon, bouncing his leg. He eyed the grandfather clock. If Master wasn’t home soon, he’d be late for work. 

And Leon had the feeling that if he was fired, Master wouldn’t let him look for another job.

“Oh,” said Pet, his face like a kicked puppy.

Poor thing.

Pet had been enthralled by vampires for so long, he’d forgotten how to be a person by the time Master got his hands on him. Master didn’t enthrall either of them, but you couldn’t tell by looking at Pet.

He was so happy and eager to please, like he was still under the spell, but he couldn’t take care of himself like a thrall could. 

Pet was like a dog; helpless if left alone for more than an hour.

Leon shuddered. He looked at the clock again.

He was forbidden from leaving Pet alone in the house, but work was one of his last connections to the outside world. Even though it was a shitty CVS cashiering gig, it gave him an excuse to leave Master’s den. And even better, he could talk to people. Real people, not Pet’s inane chatter.

No offense to Pet, but the boy wasn’t a great conversationalist.

Leon tugged at his turtleneck. He didn’t like wearing them, but covering up his thrall bitemark with makeup was risky. What if it rained?

He rubbed his hands together, and Pet nuzzled into his knee.

“Is Master going to be home soon?” he whimpered. “I miss him.”

“I don’t know,” said Leon, apologetically ruffling Pet’s hair. He refused to agree that he missed Master too, but he kinda did. It was lonely just him and Pet in the huge, dusty, mansion.

The door opened, and Leon let out a breath of relief. Master entered the room, and Leon stood up. Pet crawled over to Master, his hands resting on Master’s thigh like a puppy jumping up for attention. Master petted his hair, gently.

He was always gentle with Pet.

Master’s blank eyes looked him up and down. “Are you going to work, Leon?”

Leon nodded. “Yes, Master.”

“Go on then.”

Leon rushed past the two of them. He hoped his manager would let his tardiness slide. Again.

___________________

“You’re late,” said Keith in a sing-song voice.

“Yeah, yeah I know.” Leon shrugged off his coat and stuffed it behind the counter. “Is Jana here?”

“Nope. I went ahead and clocked you in by the way.”

“Thanks.” 

“No problem. Our little secret. By the way, your mom called the store. Said it was urgent.”

Leon’s heart stuttered. Master had taken his phone when they first met, and Leon was allowed to call home every once in a while.

He wasn’t allowed to tell them he was a vampire’s thrall, obviously.

Leon grabbed the store phone and dialed her number. His hands shook.

“Hello?” Her voice was like a balm.

“Mom?” he choked out. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh baby,” she sighed, her voice strained. “Nana just passed away. Could you get off work?”

“Uh- let me- let me ask, okay? I’ll call you back.”

He hung up. “I gotta go,” he said to Keith, tears welling in his eyes. “My- my grandma-”

“Yeah I heard. I’m so sorry man. Go ahead, I’ll take care of stuff.”

Leon wiped his eyes. “Okay- yeah- uh.” He dialed Jana.

Her phone went to voicemail, and he left a message asking for a week off. He had other things than a job to worry about.

Leon rushed home.

“Leon!” exclaimed Pet as he barged through the door. “You’re back!” Leon could practically see an imaginary wagging tail attached to Pet.

“Yeah, yeah. Listen, where’s Master?”

“In-”

“I’m here,” interrupted Master, standing in the doorway. Leon hadn’t seen him come in.

“My grandmother died,” explained Leon. “I- I know I’m not allowed to leave but I- please. I need to see my family,” he begged. “Just for a week.”

Master tilted his head, examining him. His red eyes stared into Leon’s soul.

“Please.”

“Very well. One week.”

“Thank you!” Leon said, words spilling out of him, “I’ll come right back, I swear-”

Master held up a hand, silencing him. Master stepped aside, gesturing. “Go pack.”

Leon didn’t move. “Can I have my phone? Please?”

Master nodded, and Leon darted past him to gather his things.

___________________

Leon gripped the steering wheel as he pulled into the driveway. He sighed, trying to pull himself together. The two hour drive just wasn’t enough.

There were so many little lies to remember. 

I graduated college. I have a roommate. We live in an apartment. I’m just really busy, so I can’t call much.

The last one was true, somewhat. He was really busy, but he had a vampire feeding off his neck, not a job with demanding hours. CVS was only part time.

He opened the door and lifted his suitcase from the passenger side.

Leon raised a hand to knock, but the door opened before he could, and his mom pulled him into a big bear hug. She smelled like cinnamon sugar.

Mom always made snickerdoodles when she was upset.

“Hi, Mom.” Leon hugged her back.

Mom kissed his cheek and let go, but her hands lingered on his. “Oh, honey,” she said, her voice wet. “You’re so skinny. Come in, come in! I’ll make you some lunch!”

Dad was sitting on the couch, but he stood when he saw Leon. “There’s my boy!” He hugged Leon tight, and he wheezed.

“Hey, Dad.”

“How’s work, bud?”

Leon tensed. “It’s fine. Busy.”

Kris, his sister, thumped down the stairs. God she was getting big. He couldn’t remember what grade she was in.

Hopefully he’d be able to make it to her high school graduation, but his heart knew Master wasn’t that generous.

“Hey.” She didn’t look up from her phone.

“Hey.”

“Kris, could you get Leon’s suitcase?”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted. “I got it.”

He didn’t want her snooping and finding his concealer. He didn’t have time to wash his turtlenecks before he left.

Pet had offered to wash them, but bless him, he couldn’t even read the dials on the machine anymore.

Last time, he’d used fabric softener instead of soap, and they didn’t figure that out until the next day and had to dig through the drawers to find all the dirty laundry.

Leon unpacked his stuff, putting his clothes away in his childhood drawers. 

___________________

He should have been more careful.

Three days in, and in the distress and mourning and visiting relatives, he’d forgotten the concealer.

“Honey,” said Mom, suddenly pulling at the collar of his shirt. “What’s this?”

“What’s what?” he asked, playing dumb.

“This!” she exclaimed, her voice more upset than angry. “Were you attacked? Why didn’t you tell-”

“What’s going on?”

Leon closed his eyes in resignation. Kris and Dad came into the room.

“Leon’s been bitten!”

“I’m fine!” he protested, brushing away Mom’s hands. She looked hurt, and Leon sat heavily on the couch as she examined him.

“I’m fine,” he repeated, looking down at the old carpet. “Master doesn’t even-”

“Master?” Interrupted Dad. “Are you enthralled, son?”

“No! No, I swear. I mean- I’m a thrall but… he doesn’t… he lets me keep my mind.” Leon looked up at his family. They were horrified, and it broke his heart to see his little sister nearly crying.

“You weren’t supposed to know,” he said weakly. “I’m sorry.”

Mom sniffled, and Leon couldn't take much more. “Please don't cry, Mama. Please. I’m sorry,” he begged.

He heard a car pull up the driveway. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

Leon glanced out the window, and Master stepped out of the car. He was wearing a dark suit, and he held an umbrella to protect him from the sun.

Leon made a terrified squeak. He shot up from the couch, but it was too late. There was a knock on the door.

“Kris,” he begged, “get upstairs.”

“What? No!”

The knock became louder. It would be worse for his family if he left Master waiting.

Leon stiffly walked to the door and opened it. His parents gasped behind him, and he heard Kris run up the stairs to her room.

“Leon,” purred Master. “Let me in.”

“Would you like to come in?” he whispered, and Master stepped through the door.

Master’s cool hand settled on the back of his neck, and they turned to step into the living room. Master hung his umbrella on the coat rack, and Leon bit back a hysterical laugh.

Leon’s parents stepped back as they approached.

“I mean you no harm,” said Master. He sat on the couch, pulling Leon with him to press into his side.

“What- what do you want?” asked Dad, his voice trembling.

“Only to offer my deepest sympathies for your loss.” Master’s hand tightened on the back of Leon’s neck, and he knew Master knew he told.

“Where- where’s Pet?” he whispered, desperate to stave off his punishment.

Master had never hit him before, but that didn’t mean anything. Leon just hadn’t messed up before now.

“In the car,” said Master, easy as anything. “He misses you.”

“Who- who’s Pet? Leon?” pleaded Mom.

Master grinned. “Please, don’t,” begged Leon. His parents didn’t need to see what happened to humans after enthrallment. 

But Master didn’t listen. He whistled loud and shrill, and Leon heard a car door slam as Pet bounded up to the house.

Pet walked through the door and immediately fell to his knees at Master’s feet.

“Leon! Hi!”

“Hey, Pet,” he mumbled. 

“Why’re you sad?” asked Pet, nudging his head at Leon’s hand. Leon scritched at his scalp.

“Because,” he choked out, “my parents are sad.”

“Oh.” Pet frowned. His eyes landed on Leon’s parents, as if he hadn’t noticed they were there. “Hello. Why are you sad?”

Mom stared at Pet and clutched Dad tight.

“Don’t bother the nice people, Pet,” chastised Master.

Pet turned his focus back on Master, laying his head in his lap. “Yes, Master,” he said with a smile and big doe eyes. Leon felt sick.

“Leon,” commanded Master, “open up.” Leon screwed his eyes shut, tilting his neck.

He didn’t want to see his mother’s reaction.

Master’s cold lips latched onto his neck.

He gasped as Master bit down on him, his fangs piercing his flesh.

It hurt this time, and he knew it was on purpose. His punishment for being so careless.

He resisted the urge to push Master away as the horrible pain made him tear up. It was like nothing he felt before; cold fire and stabbing and ripping skin.

His dad made a noise somewhere between anger and fear, and Leon made the mistake of opening his eyes.

Mom was weeping into her hands, Dad holding her close. His expression was twisted, and tears dripped down Leon’s cheeks.

“M’ sorry,” he whined. “Ple-ase-”

Master pulled away, licking up the last few drops as his wound stitched itself back together.

Master slapped him across the face, hard enough Leon knew he’d bruise. His parents gasped. Pet shrank away from the display of violence- and Leon remembered the time he’d seen Pet naked.

It was only once, but he’d never forget the scars on Pet’s back.

“I never understood it,” Master had said. “Torturing humans does no good, nor does it bring me pleasure. I’ll never whip you two like Pet’s old master would.”

Leon had assumed that meant Master wouldn’t hurt him at all.

He was wrong.

Master sat up straight, and Pet scrambled to straddle his lap and nuzzle under Master’s jaw.

“Have you learned your lesson, Leon?”

“Yes,” he whimpered.

“Good.” Master’s hand caressed the top of Pet’s head before gently pushing Pet off his lap.

“Come, Pet. It’s time to go.”

“Is Leon coming, too?”

Leon held his breath.

Master looked at him, long and searching. “No,” he said finally. Leon’s shoulders sagged. “He still has four days.”

Pet followed Master out the door, as joyfully obedient as always. 

The tense air left with Master, and Leon sank into the couch. He rubbed his cheek. It still stung. 

His mom wrapped her arms around him, sobbing into his chest. “My baby boy’s a thrall,” she cried, and Leon rubbed her back.

“I’m so sorry,” he said brokenly.

His Dad said nothing, and left the room.

Leon felt shattered, but then his dad came back with an ice pack for his face.

“We could hire someone,” Dad said, voice empty and tired. “Hunters-”

“No,” said Leon. “It’s- he’s- he’s okay.”

Mom pulled away. “What do you mean?” she asked, wiping the tears off his cheek. 

“He’s never hit me before,” explained Leon quietly. “And the drinking- that doesn’t usually hurt either. It’s just because I disobeyed him. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Dad crossed his arms, and Leon held the ice pack to his face.

“Really,” he insisted. “And- and he’s kind to Pet. He’s not that bad.”

“ ‘Pet’ is enthralled. Think logically, son.”

“He’s not, though,” continued Leon. “Pet- he- Master stole him from another vampire, after he killed her. Pet spent so long under, his mind is just… gone. Master has taken care of him ever since.”

“Why?” Mom asked.

Leon shrugged. “Pity, I guess. He really is gentle. Master let me keep my job, and my money. He lets me go out, sometimes, and he got me a birthday present. It could be worse, Dad, I swear.”

Mom and Dad exchanged looks. “I don’t even pay rent,” he offered with a little laugh. “Or food. Just internet, cause Master is an old codger.”

Mom tucked his hair behind his ear. “Okay, baby,” she said. “We’ve got four days. What do you want to do before you have to go back?”

Dad sagged in defeat, and Leon’s heart swelled with love.

“Could- Could we make cookies? Like when I was a kid?”

Mom kissed his forehead. “Of course we can, honey,” she said, smiling through her tears. “Every kind you want.”

taglist: @paintedpigeon1

#i like to think Leon's mom sends him care packages after this #full of cookies #my writing #whump #vampire whumper

[mimble-sparklepudding]

FFXIV Swap Poem Thingy

I had the honour of being matched with the very marvellous @paintedscales for the FFXIV Swap. I really enjoyed learning about Nomin and her backstory and it's given me the opportunity to do a lot of background reading on Xaela lore and the history of the Azim Steppe. Definitely worth reading Nomin's Carrd if you want more detail on the events described below.

However I was a bit worried that a poem might not be as exciting as some of the beautiful artwork created by others for this project, so I took the liberty of commissioning a custom character banner for Nomin as a little extra.

Anyway Poetry Time (mostly under the cut as it's quite long).

The Nameless Child.

The nameless child, left by design,

Bound tight with rope to sacred pine,

As tribal customs did dictate,

But was resolved to change her fate,

And once she had her bonds untwined,

She chose to leave her tribe behind,

From that day forth, without regret,

She was no longer a Tumet.

Having swiftly named herself,

Quietly and with practiced stealth,

She made her way across the plains,

To the lone town the Steppe contains,

Where, seeing one so young exiled,

They grudgingly took in the child,

Gave her food and clothes withal,

And raised her as a young Saghal.

The traditions of this peaceful tribe,

Among many other things proscribe,

The killing or the subjugation,

Of beasts with whom they share creation,

And thus, bitter irony indeed,

The adherents of this gentle creed,

Were enslaved, or left for dead,

Their lives destroyed by the Jhungid.

Having beheld her brother slain,

She had to work quite hard to feign,

Any form of acquiescence,

As she grew through her adolescence,

Under the watchful, callous, eyes,

Of custodians who she despised,

So she knew exactly what to do,

When battle dawned with the Kharlu.

As each tribe faced the other’s host,

In battle for the Eastern coast,

She drew the arrow in her bow -

And turned her back upon the foe,

Without pause, without remorse,

She shot her leader from his horse,

Before riding back to burn their yurts,

Administering their just deserts.

Having freed her former tribe,

She knew that she must circumscribe,

Her kinship with them all thenceforth,

To keep them safe, so journeyed North,

And West across the Steppe alone,

In search of tribes as yet unknown,

And, from spending time with each,

She’d learn all that they had to teach.

Whether across a glacier,

Travelling with the Angura,

Or racing upon an Oroq Sled,

She absorbs all that they’ve done and said,

And be it Himaa, Gharl or Mol,

Each colour's blended in her soul,

And every one that she recalls,

Is carried forth in her footfalls.

(For those that are interested in such things I opted for rhyming couplets as the nearest form I could find to traditional Mongolian Epic Poetry (known as tuuli). There are six variations of narrative in these epics, and (extremely loosely) I opted for The Mythicised Epic, where the hero fights to restore order, as the basis for Nomin's tale. The most famous version of this narrative in Mongolian Folklore is the Epic of King Gesar, but there are lots of other ones. Definitely worth learning about if you enjoy cultural history.)

Many thanks to @paintedscales for their patience in waiting for me to pull my finger out and finish this - and also for helping me with the pronunciation of the various Xaela tribes with which Nomin has been associated. Needless to say, until this assistance, I was apparently getting most of them very wrong (aside from the Mol - I could manage that one!)

I hope you enjoy my silly poem and the nice Custom Banner!

#ffxiv oc #Nomin Tal Kheeriin #ffxiv au ra #ffxiv xaela #ff14 #ffxiv writing #ffxiv banner #ffxiv wol #ffxiv #azim steppe #the nameless child #final fantasy 14 #ff14 ffxiv #final fantasy xiv

[neighawolf]

The Silver Souls (meet my beans)

Okay Pinned post time! You’re not here for me, so let’s just get to my beans.  (There’s a few, so bear with me. Pictures for your perception lol) The Silver Souls A group formed by Alexandria and Sorn’daer shortly after the events of Carteneau. Consisting of gathered allies, both echo blessed and not, the Silver Souls are an adventuring and mercenary group with skills ranging from domestic, monster hunting, knowledge gathering and crafting. The Silver Souls eventually met up with the likes of The Scions of the Silver Dawn, forming a powerful allegiance of primal hunting mercenaries, intelligent Archons of renown, and diplomats. The combined force of fighters, thinkers, and support brought together nations, brought low powerful foes of old, and ended the Final Days before their “dissolution” and “retirement”. Many of the members found themselves in romantic relationships and are still occasionally found together.

Rornir Augurelt

Rornir is the current head and face of the Silver Souls. He is an echo blessed Warrior of Light whose echo allows him to sense or feel, as well as manipulate, emotions. Hailing from the wilds Yanxia and the bank of the One River, Rornir Augurelt was born ‘Habiki Katsumoto’. He was a prophecised heir to a world renowned criminal syndicate which operated heavily in Othard and Kugane. His parents sold him to a woman in Dalmasca as an attempt to free him of the burden and zealotry of his clan. His name, Habiki, means echo. He was thought to be a prophecy which would see his clan rise in power. After his parents sold him, his jealous uncle had them killed and hunted ‘Habiki’ down. By the time his uncle found him, Rornir had chosen his own name and fled a far worse ‘home’ than that of his birth. He joined his family’s organization, become one of the most skilled assassins and earned many nicknames including ‘Yanxian Yurei” “Othard Oni” and “Kugane Obake”. He discovered the truth of his parent’s death and turned from his clan and fleeing to the steppes. There he met a small but fierce Au ri dragoon named Mizuki. The two became fast friends and travelled to Gridania together, where they would eventually join the Silver Souls. Rornir was hesitant to join the Scions, being a viera in such a strange land where strangers were treated unwarmly. He was welcomed, however, with open arms and revered for his unique perspectives. He was thankful for the allies and support during the siege of Doma, where he reclaimed his birth place and returned home. During the events of the First, he fell in love with the resident book keeper, astrologian, and archon Urianger Augurelt. The two remain happily married and enjoy their small space ship moon of small bunny children. 

Alexandria Knighte

A founding member of the Silver Souls, Alexandria is an echo blessed warrior. Though her circumstances are far more unique than her allies. Alex is a Warrior of Darkness. Created through a struggled life. Her echo allows her to see, touch and speak with the dead and the Aetherial Sea. She is also the sundered soul of the Ancient, Azem. Alex was born in Kholusia on the reflection simple named, The First. She had a younger brother and sister, her mother was a prominent archeologist and historian and her father was a master alchemist. The family lived on a large farm and apple orchard. Her mother was also known as a witch, an intimidating and fierce but kind woman. Alex and her family were well respected and adored. Until the flood of light swept across the land. She was the lone survivor of her family, at the young age of 9. She was saved by a young boy and grew up in and out of homes until one day the sky caught fire and a voice filled her mind. She grew up as a hardened mercenary and lived most of her life alone. After a difficult mission, she sought out aid from another loner and weird man. She lost one of her legs to a blighted attack.Her leg was removed to prevent spreading. She thought her adventuring career was ended, until her mission companion revealed he was a master smith and had an artificial arm. He worked with her to build her a leg and the two soon fell in love. To her surprise they also had a child. But that didn’t last long. On her child’s 9th birthday, a wave of sineaters atacked. Her child was struck down, her husband died protecting her child and she was once again alone. She cursed ‘benevolent’ being who granted her life, again and again while always taking things from her. In her sorrow, she threw her self from the highest cliffs of Kholusia. She found her self floating in the aetherial sea, the voices of her loved ones calling for her. But Hydaelyn had need of her still, and Alex woke up on a ship in a strange new land. She met Sorn’daer, the elezen who rescued her. Sorn’daer is now her brother in law, married to a shard of her sister, who is also echo blessed but not an adventurer. She is in a romantic relationship with Thancred Waters, who is the soulmate sundered shard of Azem and Darion, and a shard of her husband from the first.

Sorn’daer Vic’Szraen

Archon and Professor, Sorn’daer Vic’szraen is a well known and renowned Mage. A Warrior of Light later in his years, Sorn’daer is a master of Aether, Void and Forbidden Magics including his specialty, Mhach. He has the ability to perceive glimpses of thought and memory. Sorn’daer grew up deep underground in and around ruins of Gelmorra. His family was less than enthusiastic about his birth and treated him with disdain. The only family he really had was his sister, Ril’Ria and his aunt. His aunt was a well know children’s author and a large inspiration for his academic studies into mythology and magic. After helping him and his sister escape, Sorn’daer’s aunt was killed for treason. Sorn and his sister fled their home with no destination in mind and found themselves, after years of traveling, on the home island of Sharlayan. He applied himself with fierce dedication and became a highly praised student and eventually earning himself title of archon and teaching at the Sharlayan Studium. He was even offered a seat on the forum, which he turned down due to their increasingly stringent rules and restrictions. He stuck to his own studies and formed a group of like minded scholars, including some from Sharlayan, to study the depths of Mhachi, Void, and Dark Magic. When his studies were deemed “restricted” and “forbidden” he left Sharlayan, saying “Magic is not inherently evil, but its will is determined by those who weild it. to give fear to it, you give power to those who would wield it for evil while denying its knowledge to counter it.” He left and set sail for faraway seas. On his journey, a dangerous storm took his ship and a woman was found overboard. He helped rescue the woman, named Alexandria, who claimed to be not from this world. He was intrigued by her claims and aided her in settling into her new world. They found each other working similar jobs more than a few times and agreed to work together, becoming close friends and eventually forming a mercenary group. He has since published several books on his studies and applications of aether. He has trained and obtained any ‘jobstone’ associated with “mage” and stranger applications of aether, such as a Machinist’s Aetherbox, a gunbreaker’s aether charges, and pacts with a voidsent as a Reaper. He trades many notes with the Alchemists of Radz-at-Han and the scion Y’sthola. He is married and a father of one.

B’astille ‘Bastian’ Tia

Bastian, as he prefers, is a mostly solitary man, and the most reclusive of the Silver Souls. An echo blessed Warrior of Light, Bastian’s talents and skills lie in his exceptional senses. More than just an adept hunter, Bastian uses his echo to hear, smell, track and hunt the most elusive of foes. B’astille hailed from a wandering B tribe of miqo’te throughout the Ala Mhigan and Gridanian border. His father was a disgusting man who rule by fear and other nefarious means. He forbid reading, kept his clan on mind numbing drugs until they developed a dependency and resorted to unseemly means when it came to breeding. B’astille was being taught to take his father’s place, but even in his training he sense the jealousy of his father, that someone else might take the place of everything he’d built. But Bastian didn’t want any of that. He befriended a young girl who had been determined too sickly and weak to remain in the clan. They became best friends and he often snuck out to give her food and talk to her. Bastian refused to kill or mate when he father told him. After a tense argument regarding Bastian’s virginity, he fled his home and never looked back. He and his childhood friend fled and developed a romantic relationship. But sickness and her frailty robbed them of a future together. Bastian lived on his own for over a decade, his only friend being a chocobo he’d rescued in his youth who had returned the favour some years later. Lady Heluva was his best friend. He was pretty feral and wildling, fearing most other ‘civilized’ societies were like his own. He preferred the company of animals, especially birds. Then the sky caught fire, a voice spoke to him, and he watched the red moon, Dalamud, crash into the grounds. A surge of mercenaries and Garleans caused him to seek saftey in other woods, leading him back to Gridania where he was captured. He was accused of being a spy, but once he confused to not being able to read, let alone his very wildling attire, he was released. He was so unaccustomed with civilized life, the city was confusing and he ended up in prison by accident. a mysterious masked man and a rather energetic au ri woman rescued him and offered him a place within their group, the Silver Souls. He was hailed for his skills in hunting, hand crafting, survival and mapping. He is well loved, despite being very reclusive, and he is thankful for his many friends who help him learn to read and adapt to civilized life, especially the newest scion and one of his first real friends, G’raha Tia. They are happily in a relationship. the first words he ever wrote, with G’raha’s help was his own name and “I love G’raha.” He still prefers the wilds and birds over people, and is learning more about his culture and people as a miqo’te.

R’aurora Vanih

The youngest of the Silver Souls, staring her journey at only 16 years old, R’aurora is arguably the most intelligent Warrior of Lights in the group. Her echo blessing allows her to process information not unlike a machine and she has eidetic memory, meaning she remembers things in extreme clarity. She is an autistic savant, struggling with normal everyday things, but her mind rivals that of the ancient Allagans. R’Aurora Vanih was born in Corvos, during another of the island’s exoduses by the Garleans. She never met her mother, as her mother died in premature childbirth. Her father tried his best to teach her as much about her mother as he could. Her mother had come from a clan of miqo’te who protected ancient Allagan ruins and information, blood running in the veins of the family. Her birth was met with mixed feelings as she had one bright red eye. None knew what to make of it, nor did any have the time to ponder such musings, given the Garlean situation at the time of her birth. she was separated from her father at only the age of 5. During a panic and rushing of crowd, her father lost hold of her and she was ushered on a ship leaving for Sharlayan. She arrived, alone, and when none claimed her, she was sent to the orphanage. When she was caught creating a machine from scrapes and disassembled things, she was tested and immediately had families interested in funding her education, that she might be a boon for Sharlayan, even at such a young age. Her autistic mind led to her teacher’s frustrations and none had the patience to help her. She was discarded, with disappointment, after she had argued another student’s thesis work on Allagan culture. After being told that “Archon G’raha Tia” was a foremost in his field and she’d given sufficient evidence to the contrary, she was shipped off to Limsa Lominsa. A young miqo’te found her crying alone at the end of the docks and brought her to his own adoptive Lalafellian parents and she was immediately taken home. She grew up in Ul’dah with loving Lalafel parents and an incredibly loving and patient miqo’te older brother. her genius was appreciated in ul’dah, as her mind was a power processor for numbers and memory. Her mother, a terrifyingly sweet and scary member of the Ul’dah syndicate was very protective of anyone who tried to use R’Aurora’s mind. When R’aurora complained one day of a terrible headache, the sky on fire, and voices in her head, many in Ul’dah suggested she be sent to an institution. But Sera, her older brother, sought others and found aid in the Silver Souls. One of its founding members, Alexandria, took a very motherly protective approach with R’aurora, stating that she reminded her of her own daughter. R’aurora is skilled with many talents, but because of her age many in the Silver Souls and the Scions prefered to keep her in a support and information role, but she has helped delevoped new technology for the group and submited patents for many new machines and allagan updates. She currently works in the Garlond Ironworks, the Students of Baldesion, the Ishgardian Skysteel Manufactury and runs a lo-fi radio station which reaches out to Garlemald now.

Sesera Sera

A strange name for a miqo’te, but Sera has made his family proud. One of the members of the Silver Souls who is not echo blessed or a Warrior of Light, Sesera is often considered the “Group Mom”. His skills like more in the domestic and diplomatic. From cooking, cleaning, getting everyone to bed on time and securing new work or working with prominent figures on behalf of the Silver Souls, Sera ensures success of his group behind the scenes. Abandoned mere days after his birth and found in a back alley of Ul’dah near death, Sesera Sera never knew his birth parents. He currently has no interest in knowing either, his true family are the lalafells who adopted him. His father a previous reigning champion of the Blood Sands and his mother a promiment and terrifying figure on the Ul’dahn syndicate. His father is a stern and hardened man, but a patient and kind soul. Sera learned a lot from him and highly respects his father. His mother, despite her status in Ul’dahn society, is a kind and gentle soul towards her family. The two were unable to conceive of the own and consider Sera a gift from the Trader, Nald’thal, himself. They lived a relatively simple life, with hardly any notable mentions outside of Sera’s status in the Blood Sands. Sera’s father was happy to step down from Champion when Sera beat him in combat. It was a proud day for both of them. Sera met his sister, R’aurora during a family trip to Limsa Lominsa, where his mother had unofficial business to tend to. He found a young, scared and crying miqo’te girl crying on the dock, and watched with growing anger as people just walked past her or gossiped as they moved around her. He carefully approached the young girl and offered her water, food, or something to wash her face at least. She turned them all down. He bought a wind up toy from a nearby vendor and handed it to her. He watched as, like a switch, the crying girl stopped and analyzed the toy like one of the maniacs at the Goldsmith’s guild in Ul’dah. She smiled at him and he knew he wanted to her big brother. So he found his parents, the immediately agreed and the family returned home. They continued their simple, quiet life in Ul’dah until his adopted sister, R’aurora, complained of a headache, firey skies and voices in her head. While others in the city were quick to judge and suggest institutionalising her, Sera asked his mother for some of her contacts and eventually got in contact with members of the Silver Souls who explained R’aurora was a Warrior of Light. He’s never known peace sense. He struggles keeping up with the group, not being a powerful hero of legend, but they are always in awe of him, standing toe to toe with them, *without* any blessing. He is currently in a relationship with the leader of Ishgard, Aymeric de Borel and with the Scions’ foremost mage, Y’sthola.

Mizuki Mizunoko

Mizuki is what many would call a “gremlin”. An energetic, enthusiastic, and a bit wild member of the Silver Souls, Mizuki Mizunoko is an Au ri warrior from a mostly unknown tribe high up in the Azim Steppes. While she is neither echo blessed or a Warrior of Light, her fighting prowess is enough to even give dragons pause. Mizu was born in a clan of au ri with a special allegience. Born of a clan chieftan, 7 mothers, and well over 8 or 9 bothers, she was the only girl. She was far from a princess though, always quick to join a playful fight, go hunting with her father, and even sneaking out to play with the dragonlings allied with her clan. Her clan has a long and historic pact with dragon, dating all the way back to the myth of Shiva and Hraesvelgr. They have carried on a long storied relationship with dragons. In what Ishgard would call heresy, an Auri warrior and a dragon form a blood pact, in exchange for strength, power, resistence, and a longer life. Mizu, and her dragon bond, Miyu, can see through each other’s eyes, communicate telepathically and have the ability to shape shift. Mizu can look more elezen and Miyu can turn into a chocobo. The pair are deadly in combat, though Miyu tends to be fairly lazy. Mizu featured prominently during the events of the Dragon Song War. She was very careful with Miyu in and around Ishgard. She and the dragoon, Estinien Wyrmblood had a very rocky start, but have since become good friends. Her expertise in dragonkind, and especially the story of Shiva and Hraesvelgr, aided the ending of the war as she and Miyu proved man and dragon could still be allies. When the scions and the Echo blessed of the Silver Souls were taken, it was Mizu and Sera who held the fronts at home. Other than her pact with her dragon, a gift in itself, she boasts no extra ordinary powers or skills and is still in the top of the fighters between the Silver Souls and the Scions. She is steadily learning to settle down, finding herself in a relationship with the Dark Knight of Ishgard, Sidurgu Orl and their shared ward, Rielle.

Saoirse Toussaint

Archon and Theologist, Saoirse Toussaint is Sharlayan born and raised. She is neither echo blessed nor a warrior of light. She is a student of theology, mythology and studies the stars and deities. She featured most promimently during the events of Ishagrd. She set forth from Sharlayan on her thesis work on the study of regional astrology and its applications. She had many quarrels with the uses in Ishgard being only for combat and dragons. She departed shortly after the end of the war, not one for glorified pomp or celebrations. She returned briefly to the Silver Souls employ during the seige of Doma, gaining more insight from the Geomancer of Othard, the Eastern equivalent of Astrology. Upon freeing both Doma and Ala Mhigo, Saoirse returned to Sharlay to complete her thesis and earn her Archon’s mark. Throughout her journey, she and the Ishgardian Dragoon had many close encounters and near connections, each time one or the other was busy or arguing. When the Silver Souls were torn from their bodies, Saoirse returned to offer her friends aid and apply her considerable skills as a healer and her knowledge of stars and constellations that might aid in any attempt to travel between worlds or conjure some means of finding them. She worked closely with Krile, Tataru and Master Matoya to keep the Silver Souls and Scions’ aether in check and heal any wounds from the front. She joined the scions more officially around the same time as Estinien and the two are still fledglings in their earnest relationship.

#ffxiv #ffxiv gpose #original character #OC #Final fantasy #character introduction #character lore #final fantasy 14 #free company #silver souls

[theladyofbloodshed]

Au Acosf - Chapter 85

We're in the final stretch now!

@a-court-of-valkyries @sv0430 @mis-lil-red @nesquik-arccheron @emily-gsh @sunsetsofanemoia @swankii-art-teacher @moodymelanist @nestaarcher0n @my-fan-side @c-e-d-dreamer @nestaspegasus @champanheandluxxury @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @lyzriel @dustjacketmusings @sugardoll22 @gwynethhberdara @embersofwildfire @witchsouth @faeriebambula @lady-winter-sunrise

Together they winnowed to the Steppes, leaving Sohail to seek out his mother with the promise that they’d return.

The usual sea air did not hit their senses. Instead, an acrid smell of smoke laced the land. Rhys held out a hand to still Cassian while they surveyed the scene.

Briallyn’s broken body lay at the feet of a male. Atop his blonde head was the Crown, shining even in the dim light. Cassian imagined Koschei to be a foul creature from the depths of the abyss, one evil enough for the light to shy from it - something warped and twisted. But he stood as an ordinary male, handsome, a cruel edge to his sharp features, and tailored in black. There was nothing particularly wicked which was somehow worse. The thrum of power was unmistakeable. Koschei stood with preternatural stillness, watching as his army of Illyrians swarmed a group pressed against a pile of boulders.

Fire devoured the trees around them – Eris Vanserra was summoning the last of his magic to encircle them with flames in a futile attempt at protection. The struggle was written on his face; the male winced each time he forced his magic to surge. Cassian spotted the flash of two furred beasts, one Tamlin, the other unknown, giving a final upheaval of their strength. Another male, dark-haired but Autumn blooded, had an arm around a pale Lucien, driving off two Illyrians.

His eyes caught on the red-haired female screaming. She wore the robes of a priestess from Velaris' library. Rhys’ attention turned there too in horror then flickered to her feet where Azriel lay gagged by shadow and unmoving. But Cassian could not look to his brother. Not when the priestess was screaming, shaking Nesta by the shoulders, trying to wrench a knife out of her hands. Even the dog – not Zasha, but similar – was barking at her, trying to rouse her from her trance.

It was not Nesta stood there. Not anymore.

She stood unblinking, carving a dagger through her hands, not caring if her blood rained down on Azriel.

Cassian surged forwards, cleaving any who blocked his path.

He could feel Rhys’ magic beside him, splattering through bodies. Hot blood showered them both, offal soaking their leathers.

Then he saw it. That strange, golden light in Nesta’s crimson hands summoned to her from the Hewn City. Saw – and could do nothing – as she slammed the Mask onto her face.

***

Her blood was a cold song which the Mask echoed back to her. It had waited for so long. For so long, it had lay untouched in the depths of the Bog of Oorid. For so long it had been unwanted, until she had called to it. Like calls to like.

Locked away in the Court of Nightmares, it had craved her touch. Every day, it called to her again. Pleaded with her to hold it once more.

I have been so lonely, it purred.

The smoke no longer hurt her lungs. She did not require air. The pain in her palms never came. The Mask would always cherish her, would never let her hurt.

I’m here, Nesta thought in answer, desperate to soothe its pain.

The Mask seemed to sigh in contentment, its power bleeding into her veins. But that voice was still with her, the gentle voice who had showed her how to summon the Mask. It was encouraging her now, just out of reach from her touch, lingering on her shoulder, guiding her movements.

She felt the souls around her, their hearts and their dreams, begging for her touch. Thousands upon thousands of bodies awaited her beckoning. The magic of the Mask pulsed over the sea, summoning them to her. Summoning them home.  

Long-rotted bodies, picked-clean bones, half-eaten wraiths buried in armour, Illyrians whose hearts had not long stopped beating. She could feel them all. Bodies trapped in ships that hit the rocks, sacrifices tied down thousands of years earlier, mortal kings and slaves whose blood watered the earth. She could feel the moment their time ran out. Could feel their dreams. The dreams taken from them before they had a chance to seize their future.

Nesta did not refuse the power of the Mask. She let that cold magic flow into her own. It met her flames and the powers infused. It felt like coming home after a long journey. A fire burning in the hearth while a storm raged outside. The loving arms of a mother after tears. She had never known love like this. She never wanted to take the Mask off again.

***

Nesta stepped over bodies and spread out her hands. Of course, she would put that damn Mask on again to save the others. She’d wreck her own body – sacrifice herself – to save them.

Although the Mask obscured her face, Cassian caught the silver glow of her eyes. Any Illyrian who raised a hand against her was struck down dead. Worse than dead. Cassian watched in sick horror as the corpse rotted under her flames until only dust remained.

Rhys had a grip on his wrist. ‘We can’t save her like this. She has to take that Mask off willingly or it will kill her if we try.’

‘She’s going to him,’ Cassian bellowed.

Koschei swept his hand through the air. The Autumn Court flames that had been devouring the forest faded. He cocked his head slightly, admiring Nesta as a predator does its prey. The immortal’s army froze under command.

‘How wonderful she is. As ancient as the sea, as tragic as a storm. My beautiful bride.’

Silver flames bathed where her feet tread.  

Cassian lunged forwards, but Rhys held him. ‘Don’t. Look at the ground. She’ll kill you if you touch her.’

Decay spread where her power brushed; a queen of death.

The moment she had emerged from the Cauldron, Nesta had been different. The world had felt it. The world had shuddered at her birth. It had recoiled in fear. Nesta had stolen powers that even the Cauldron had been too afraid to wield.

‘We guard the others.’

‘Nesta,’ he begged.

Rhys’ face was fraught with anguish. ‘I’m sorry, Cass. Not yet.’

He broke free of Rhys, not caring if he hurt his high lord in his pursuit of Nesta. He would not let her go to Koschei. Would not watch her sacrifice herself.

A force barrelled into him, knocking him entirely from his path. Pain lanced through his ribs. The cut across his stomach was white-hot from the impact.

Tamlin had him pinned to the rough ground. The warrior’s body was as hard as granite – and as heavy as it. Rhys’ magic snaked over his body, holding him to the spot as an extra precaution.

‘She kills you and it will break her heart. Stay down,’ Eris snarled over his thrashing.

He’d seen this before. Been in this position. Broken and pinned, unable to save Nesta when she’d been forced into the Cauldron. 

The others stared with the same sickly terror that Cassian felt as Nesta continued her slow walk towards the immortal.

‘If she joins him, we are fucked,’ Eris said. He caught his breath and turned to Rhys. ‘You received my letter then?’

Rhys nodded, face hard. It had been Eris who had summoned Rhys to Iron Crest?

Differences were put aside. Each of the five males were bloody and spent. The males had come to save Nesta. Thank the Mother that she had not been alone. And now all they could do was stand and watch her approaching the death god whilst dozens of Illyrians stood paralysed around them.

Lucien nodded to him. The scar on his face stood out starker under his sickly pallor. From the scarlet stain on his trousers, the male had a deep wound that was gushing too quickly. The other Autumn Court male was pressing down on it, trying to staunch the bleeding.

The priestess sat silently on the ground with Azriel’s head in her lap. Nesta’s blood stained her hands, but still she stroked Azriel’s sweat-soaked hair gently. Her own eyes were slightly glazed from terror. The smokehound sat on her other side, a great, grey head resting upon the priestess’ shoulder. Shadows cocooned the three of them. In the dim light, Cassian could see Truth-Teller gripped in her hand.

The Autumn Court soldiers who had been under the thrall of the Crown had been lost entirely. No spell could bring them back. He shared a look with Rhys then they stared down at their unconscious brother. It could not be. They would not lose him. Not Azriel. Not Nesta. None of them were dying that day.  

One Illyrian who unintentionally blocked Nesta’s path was devoured by her flames. It was not a cremation. No, it was much worse. The male did not flinch – he was unable to move, unable to cry out in pain under Koschei’s order. He merely stood as Nesta’s silver fire rotted the flesh from his bones until he was nothing but a memory carried on the wind.

‘Incredible,’ Koschei mused.

A strange humming sounded. The dog’s ears pricked and she whined softly. Eris stooped down to her, rubbing a soothing hand along her flank. The priestess flinched from the male, but Eris gave her a kind smile – a kinder one that Cassian had ever seen him wear in the past so she breathed a little easier.

‘Mother above,’ Lucien gasped.

Nesta had stopped in her tracks. The army of Illyrian soldiers around her still stood immobilised under Koschei’s spell. But more soldiers came.

Bleached bones crawled over the crest of the cliff. Gnarled finger bones and ancient gauntlets came into view. Helmets of iron and bronze, crusted with barnacles and rust appeared next. An army poured fourth from the sea. An army of the dead and damned.

Koschei tilted his head, marvelling at the sight of another army assembling before him. Row upon row of soldier came into rank behind Nesta. Water dripped from their rusted armour. Some had missing limbs. Some were barely more than bones. But she had summoned them – and they came to her.

‘There is no other female like you,’ Koschei crooned. ‘No one else worthy for me. How terrible and wonderful you are. Nesta. My Nesta.’

The voice that came was not Nesta. It was not his mate speaking. It was old, terrifying. A deep reverberation that would haunt Cassian until his dying day. Nesta was only a vessel now, channelling something more vicious and primeval than Koschei.

‘You have taken my Crown.’

Silver flames erupted from her body. Rhys had just enough time to throw a shield around them before the two armies collided with each other. One did not feel pain, did not know anything except its master’s order. The other was already dead, following its queen until she gave them release.

Nesta moved without conscious thought, her sword clashing against Koschei’s. Magic swirled around them, more ancient and dominant than anything Cassian had seen before. It rattled the trees, shook the cliff they had gathered on. Despite the hour, the sky had darkened. Rhys – even Rhys – was stark white with terror.

Eris and Tamlin brought their shields around them, but Cassian wasn’t even sure if three high lords could hold back an immortal – and whatever creature had possessed Nesta. Magic rumbled against the shields. Fionn said a prayer to the Mother each time the ground beneath their feet tremored.

She blazed silver, devouring anything in her path except the immortal. Cassian did not know if Koschei even could be killed by Made blade or magic. But Nesta was putting up a hell of a fight.

Every blow of magic that he threw at Nesta, she caught and smothered with her own.

Her army was sweeping across the Illyrians. Each time that one of her soldiers fell, moments later, the skeleton was righting itself. An unstoppable force.

‘Close your eyes,’ Eris said gently. He was speaking to the priestess. ‘Don’t look at it. We’ll look after you.’

Five hundred years of life could never have prepared Cassian for the sight unfolding. An undead army; their milky white eyes unseeing and skin peeling from their grey, bloated bodies. The baying of Nesta’s magic was a beast with no name. It stormed around her, this tempest of unrestrained power. Untameable.

Rhys stood slack-jawed beside him, perhaps realising how dangerous their training sessions could have been if Nesta had unleashed that power she was afraid of on him.

Nesta met Koschei in the centre while battled raged around them. What could stand against two beings of such immeasurable power?

Her hand pressed against his chest, running over his heart tenderly.

Cassian heard a gasp beside him.

Nesta had thrust her fingers through the immortal’s ribs and was tearing his heart out with her bare hands.

It came out black and withered. She held it out like a trophy, letting flames rot it into nothing.

The gaping cavern in his chest sealed itself.

Koschei stroked a knuckle down her cheek. ‘An immortal has no need for a heart. I am deathless.’

He seized her around the wrists, holding her to him. ‘Come with me, queen of queens.’

‘Deathless?’ It was whisper of a question. A fragile hope on the wind. If Nesta could not kill him, nothing could. ‘I exist at the beginning of all things. And the end. Everything has an end. All things must die.’

Breaking free of his grasp, Nesta’s mouth clamped over Koschei’s. Their lips fused. Koschei pulled her body closer, a hand ran down Nesta’s spine with longing. The maelstrom of her power swirled around them.

Passion soon changed for terror. Koschei tried to jerk free, but Nesta’s fingers gripped into his blonde hair, holding him in place. The Crown on his head shivered violently until pure molten iron was pouring down his face, streaming onto Nesta’s skin too. She had unMade the Crown.

One by one, the Illyrians snapped out of their trance. Bewildered and groggy, they searched around the Steppes. Rhys tried to bring about order, tried to summon them to him, but at the sight of the Mask’s army, of Nesta ablaze with silver fire killing an immortal with her bare hands, the screaming began.

A male dared to throw his sword, but Nesta’s hand shot out. Her power crumpled the blade into fragments.

Koschei staggered back. The flesh on his face was rotting. A gaping maw stood in place of his mouth where the lips had necrosed. The hands that had fought against Nesta were little more than bone and tendon. He was screaming, the noise so wracked with pain that Fionn clamped his hands over his ears.

‘Do not touch her,’ Cassian snarled in Illyrian, quelling his people from another attack.

The immortal was clutching at his face, scratching at the peeling skin. Nesta brought down her sword between his neck and shoulder, gritting her teeth as she dragged the blade through his torso. Flames devoured him from the inside out until Koschei the Deathless was no more than a legend whispered to children.

Nesta turned.

She was more than high fae, more than an immortal. A goddess.

Illyrians fell to their knees, praying to the Mother, to the Cauldron. Cassian felt a thud beside him and even Rhysand had fallen to his knees, head bowed before her in submission. The others dropped to the ground, bowing to Nesta in fear. They saw that it was better to grovel to her, to beg her not to unleash that unholy power upon them than to stand against her. Tributes and prayer weren’t meant for Gods, true Gods demanded blood.

Her army assembled again, falling into rank behind her. The fallen Illyrians, ones whose lives had ended mere minutes earlier, had joined her ranks. Milky white eyes were the only indicator of death in some. Other soldiers were primal, from a time not recorded in history books. Their armour was engraved with primitive runes and whorls of the High Kings of old.

Still, Nesta blazed like an inferno. That power showed no signs of dimming.

The fear was palpable. Heads were bowed, wings scraped against the gorse in submission. Cassian caught the tremble in hands, of bodies ready to buckle in sheer terror at the sight of the Cauldron-born queen of the dead. Sobs rang out across the Steppes.

But Cassian hadn’t bowed. He had not dipped his head.

Nesta was not to be feared. She was good and kind with a heart made of gold. Nesta loved with every part of her. These males had come to her aid because Nesta was good, not because she was wicked. They became because they had seen the light of her heart.

Cassian stepped forwards.

Rhys was gripping his leg, halting him. ‘She’s gone, Cass. We've lost her.’

He shook his head. No, they hadn't. Nesta wouldn’t leave without him. She had stayed with him that day in the war; her body had been his shield. She was willing to die with an Illyrian bastard who she'd barely known. Nesta hadn't given up on him then, she hadn't ran when she should have.

He should have gone to her the moment that the war had ended and never let her doubt if he loved her. Because he had loved her then. He’d loved her from the first moment he’d ever set eyes on her, that hellcat full of rage and fury, disguising the pain in her heart that saw everything, felt everything.

‘Nothing will keep me from my mate.’

The army did not attack. They covered their queen, weapons raised, but they did not hurt him.

Cassian continued pressing on, the icy bite of her flames fluttering near his beaten body as a taunt.

She reached out a hand, ready to strike him hard.

‘Nes,’ he pleaded.

The fingers halted a hair’s breadth from his skin.

***

It was warm and kind within the Mask. Nesta had never felt so wanted. The Mask whispered to her of an eternity, just them together forever in a never-ending slumber. She saw bare feet stepping across warm, golden sands. An endless peace. She wanted that. All the aches in her body would be gone forever. There was a place of peace waiting for her. The Mask would take her there.

‘Nes.’

Nesta paused.

Don’t leave me alone again, the Mask seemed to hum in her ear.

But that voice halted her. It was a male’s voice, rough and anguished. It had made her stop and listen. She wanted to hear him say her name again. He was unfamiliar to her; rugged with ebony hair, dried blood streaking down his rough-hewn features.

She did not strike him because he was brave. He was the only one who had not cowered to the floor like a dog beaten into submission. This Warrior-Heart was brave enough to be near her, to risk her flames.

He is yours. The voice on her shoulder turned her.

It was not solely the Mask's magic that she had allowed into her body, but that loving voice who had assured Nesta that she would not hurt her as well. It had only wanted to stop the pain on the Steppes, only wanted to put a stop to the immortal's tyranny. That kind voice that had showed her how to summon the Mask repeated it: he is yours.

Mine.

‘Come back to me, sweetheart.’

The male gritted his teeth then pushed his cheek against her hand. He let her fingers graze the bloodied skin of his face. She could kill him. And still he touched her.

If she did not know him, why did he feel so familiar? Why did it feel right when his skin brushed hers? Why did he feel like home?  

The Mask wanted him to be hurt. Wanted to remove that winged male entirely, so they could go together to that place of peace and eternity.

It is your choice, the gentle female voice said, you are each other's - I tied your fate, but it is your choice.

The male was moving her hand, pressing it over his heart and enclosing his own hand over the top. Each beat was stronger than the last.

‘Please, Nes.’

***

Nesta tugged her hand free from his. The silver blazing in her eyes remained swirling like quicksilver, but she inhaled a gasping breath as if she'd breached the surface of the ocean.

She prised the Mask from her face and let it drop to the floor.

‘Cassian.’

No breath taken could ever be sweeter, no moment greater.

Cassian hauled Nesta to his chest. Her body was cold, her inhales shaky, but she was in his arms and alive.

Nesta peeled back an inch to stroke his face. ‘You’re hurt.’

Cassian shook his head. ‘I don’t care. I thought I’d lost you. I’ve never been more scared in my life.’

He couldn’t help but pull her against his chest again to feel the heartbeat throbbing beside his own to know that she was real.

'I love you so much.'

#au acosf

[vfig]

spiders spin their threads into webs to catch prey; caterpillars spin theirs into cocoons to transform. i pity the poor snake that climbed into the tensed silk structure, dreaming of transformation, but finding instead he was to be—

— — — — —

daniil comes to the town hoping to find something that will help him figure out how to defeat death. not by any technicality, but still in an idealistic ambition, hoping to find a cure, to fix death for everyone. so…

the moment he arrives in the town Death takes a stronger hold on it: starting with oyuns killing of isidor, the townsfolk killing women and worms, and then of course the gluttonous spree of the sand pest, inquisitor, and army (and maybe daniils own revolver).

and then the kains do something unexpected: they seem to be actually bringing simon (and nina?) back. the polyhedron, which has just been this weird geometric oddity infested with a militant gang of kids, suddenly becomes the focus (haha) of daniils ambitions. because he is absolutely at the end of his rope. understandably! surrounded by death. barely escaping being killed himself on numerous occasions. news of thanatica destroyed, his research gone. the kain thing is utterly not in line with his past ideals—but if you squint…

— — — — —

in all this cacophony of death, the rebirth or whatever of simon into the polyhedron is a clarion that wakes the zombie remnants of daniils ambitions again. death will be defeated: but no longer for everyone, just this one defeat, this simon.

the polyhedron has been many (mostly terrifying) things to many people, but now to daniil it is his last hope of vindication. he has been completely radicalised. no matter what, the polyhedron must stand.

the kains plans have nothing to do with daniils past ideals, but now he is caught up in them: a small snake trapped in a large spiders web. they pull the strands, and he twitches like a puppet.

there is only one thing left for daniil to do:

— — — — —

on day 12, daniil calls for the death of the entire town and everyone in it, so as to preserve the polyhedron.

so consumed by the polyhedral idea, he cant even see that, far from defeating death for everyone, he is instigating it. causing the last mass death now.

— — — — —

the ending cutscene for daniils “victory” is so bleak: the polyhedron stands,

“Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level steppes stretch far away.”

— — — — —

— — — — —

— — — — —

left to himself, as the powers that be explain, daniil is “always the evil guy when we're playing.”

but that doesnt have to be daniils fate, now that a Player is in the loop. daniil can defeat Death: not perhaps the inevitable death that waits for everyone. but,

but he can defeat the Death of his ideals—the Death of his soul that the kains would have. he can defeat the Death that he would otherwise inflict on the town.

he is, already—somehow, impossibly—more alive than anything else in the game, because of the Player. as teensy says: “Take you, for example-look how it all worked out! You used to be a doll and now you're alive. Perhaps the rest also work like this?”

daniil himself could never hear this. for him to get here, the Player must have been steering daniil to preserve life, to protect all the bound.

and what do the powers that be ask the Player-daniil to do?

“Heal the town, please! Just look, it's so wonderful... It's alive and it's our favourite one... We won't be able to make another one like this. If it can't be helped, then it will disappear forever. You know how much we love it?”

heal the town! dont destroy it. dont fall for the trap, the web that has been spun for you. do not choose your own ending!

— — — — —

and so the only way that daniil has the slightest hope of achieving his goal, of defeating death—

is by giving up on it. not being the one to decide. handing over the reins (puppet strings?) to let artemy or clara have their ending instead.

and that will maybe, probably, not be the Right ending. but at least it will not be the truly Wrong one.

Illustration: Spider's Web by maxbanshees

#pathologic daniildankovsky polyhedron itsatrap

[aqueluna]

Prompt 3 - Temper

CW: Illness

The aurete amber glow of a vibrantly verdant spring’s late afternoon cast the bustling Kugane thoroughfare in an equally brilliant light, thousands of souls passed by the numerous, nestled stalls, each advertised as much by the brilliantly woven, colourful awnings and bunting banners and the paper lanterns just now starting to be lit - as to the fervent cries of the hawking mechants. To the port-city ever flooded Hingashi’s own; collectors eager for ijin imports, hired blades looking for employment in the lands across the sea, merchants bringing wares from beyond Shishu and of course, the ijin themselves.

Garleans, Domans, Nagxians, Eorzeans, Thavnarians, Namazu, Kojin, the occasional Sharlayan, even the rare Xaela from the steppe or desert - each and all eyed with scrutiny by the ruby-robed Sekiseigumi patrolling the paven streets.

Of those hoping to captivate an audience, from artists peddling masterfully brushed paintings and chiselled sculptures, collectors bearing crates and chests of antiques, artisans of all shapes and sizes peddling everything from the rarest of the rare, to the prodigiously bountiful, the humblest - lacking lantern, bunting and possessed of only the feeblest, most tattered awning, little more than a rag. A lonely lopsided sign tied together from scrap wood had, had painted across it in alternating lime and apricot hued letters, “Nest of Stories.” Though in truth it was less nest and closer to the union of a rickety stall and a tiny, elevated stage framed with stray twigs and a colourful collage of feathers and on that stage, puppets.

“You cannot defeat me! I am you! You owe everything to me!” a high-pitched, colloquially-accented voice hissed from behind the screen, trying just a little too hard to sound gruff and menacing. a tiny, painted wooden katana suspended by half-concealed strings bobbed up and down as the voice offered its dramatic threat. “No… not any longer,” another, more natural cadence stoically states, possessed of a more aristocratic timbre, continuing, “I renounce all that I am, all that I was - and so I wash myself clean of you.” The blade descended “clickety-clacking” a few times until it slotted into the hand of a stylised, colourfully-painted puppet.

In spite of the ramshackle theatre, the puppet, props and even the background scenery were lovingly detailed. The sword-clutching, grim-faced puppet’s pale scales and horns had been each carefully painted on, his face expressively grim, torso nocked with chips and nicks from which had been painted crimson rivulets of gore, patches of brilliant, jade-hued cloth crested by straggling pieces of lamellar armour, a broken, defeated man brought to life amidst the backdrop of a temple. Wooden limbs contracted, strings lowering the doll of a Raen down, angling him so that the blade slipped free, lapsing to the stage floor.

“AND YOU THINK IT SO EASY TO BE RID OF YOUR OATH?” The first, shriller voice boomed villainously, seething with menace. Hammy menace. Very, very hammy menace. The grotesque form of a multi-armed, masked, slug-like monstrosity sliding forth onto the stage, accompanied by the sound of the first speaker offering an accompanying, “Boom! Boom! Boom!” A sharp breath taken before a renewed villainous screed, “YOUR SOUL IS MINE ISAMU, YOU SWORE IT IN BLOOD. NOW YOU WILL DIE!” 

“Calamity will no longer dog my footsteps, Isamu is no more,” the second voice cooly stated, the puppet weaving its way to the wings of the stage. “NOOOOOOOOOOO!” the first screamed, shrill enough to draw gazes and grimaces both from passers by. The theatre shook as a quintet of pebbles fell from above limply and an “UGH!” rattled out, just in time for the monstrous vibrantly hued puppet to flop over with a “THUNK”!

“And so I left that place and left everything behind, to reflect on the future and the past and I had many more adventures but those are stories… for another time,” the stoic voice stated, a squeaky creaking accompanying a tattered, crimson curtain slowly drawn out across the stage, pulled along by a string until the theatre beyond was put to rest. A few, scattered hands of applause just scarcely made themselves audible against the background din as did more than one snore. 

Masked by a fiery-orange, stubby black-beaked robin mask, a figure clad in a tattered old cloak wheeled another masked in a lime green, equally stubby blue beaked pigeon mask, sat in a rickety old wheeled chair, garbed in a filthy old dress, colour long-since faded. The robin considered the audience, three onlookers filtering back into the crowd, one flipping a few gil into a bucket at the foot of the puppet theatre, two remaining - five heads in all. “More than usual,” she noted in her well-spoken drawl, resting a fond hand on the smaller figure’s head. “Did we get better? Did we like?” the higher-pitched of the two cooed excitedly, voice cursed by a particularly thick, urchinesque accent. “Most definitely,” the other offered with scarce a second thought, offering the pigeon’s pale locks a fond, gentle tussle.

“And with that ladies, gentlemen and those that subscribe to neither, I’m afraid our story has ended… for now,” the robin called out, to a grand audience of a fidgety, muck-stained Hyuran lad and a middle-aged Raen woman snoring, head lolled to the side, sleeping standing up. “But do not fret! Tomorrow brings with it a new tale - three in fact! A tale of mystery! A tale of betrayal! And a tale that falls… tantalisingly in between!” the aloft puppeteer called out, finishing with a phenomenally proper deep dip of a bow at odds with her ragged garments, “Until next time! Pigeon and Robin will be waiting for you in the wings!” Pigeon lowered her masked head somewhat belated, leaning forward in her chair in a mock bow of her own.

Taking a moment to simply let the air of the soon-approaching evening rush over her, to stretch limbs that’d been cooped up behind the stage with her sibling, Robin couldn’t help but smile behind her mask. Once again, the excitable exuberance of the younger sibling had met the refined collectedness of the elder, to temper each other to create something that was simply… magical. Not for the audience, they mattered little - but happiness had come to roost there, in that most ramshackle of nests for two birds of contrasting hues. For Robin to respin a tale to her liking, to live the parts for hours, even in the medium of puppets and for Pigeon to bask in the dramatic deeds and exaggerated characters her sibling spun for her… Ever their wants tempered each other, weaving threads in the middle, embroidering mutual happiness.

“Sis… do you think the pebbles helped?” Pigeon inquired, stifling a chesty cough into her tattered sleeve elbow. “I do,” Robin answered without hesitation once again and so they did. It had been a struggle to incorporate them without damaging the demonic puppet, but the suggestion’s inclusion had brought the younger girl joy when she’d agreed. “How do you feel?” the loftier Raen asked, brushing a few pale locks back from Pigeon’s pallid horn. “I’m fine, me,” she chattered softly, only to hesitate as the older girl’s hand ceased mid-brush, hurriedly correcting, “All the shouting made me chest ache a little…” With that little fib self-corrected, Robin resumed her preening of the untidy, vanilla-hued mop.

Angling her wiry frame around the theatre to dig free a ceramic bottle, removing the lid, the elder sibling found herself at the tail end of adding a carefully prepared mix of dried and powdered imported herbs only to find her attention snapped by a brisk, “Oi.” The previously lingering, mucky Hyuran boy ambled his way over surreptitiously, then slipped a purse free from a sleeve across to the masked puppeteer. Pulling it open with her free hand, inspecting the collection of gil within, Robin emptied roughly half into a compartment in the stall, offering the rest back. The Hyur boy grinned, skittering away after a businesslike, “A pleasure as always miss.” The puppeteer didn’t doubt the pickpocket had stashed a fair few of the coins away before presenting his findings to be split, but it was a good trade all the same. Gil better than street puppet acts could yield for they, and distracted victims for the lad to pilfer.

Bringing the bottle back around to the younger sibling, the elder gave the contents a good shake, mixing them around, then offered it over. Pigeon reluctantly reached a scale-flecked hand across to accept the medicinal mix, raising her mask a little to better be able to drink. “It costs a lot, don’t it…” the sicklier sister stated, more than asked, gulping down a sip, gagging, spluttering at the deceptively bitter taste, prompting an encouraging circling of a soothing hand to her back. “It does, but I’d pay more if I had to, any amount to see you comfortable, Robin conceded. Taking another, somewhat more cautious sip of the medicine, sparing herself another fit of coughing if not the shudder of displeasure.

“You’ve given up so much for me and I don’t never…” the colloquial mumble of the younger sibling mumbled, interrupted mid-utterance by a finger placed onto her mask’s beak.

“In your veins flows the blood of champions, a lineage near without equal. You -are- a champion. You -are- special, a warrior. In you the echoes of our forebears reap ripe fruit! You are just, strong and you have persevered thus far, yes?” Reaching up to loosen the straps holding the fiery robin mask in place, the elder sibling pulled it away to offer her sister an encouragingly broad smile, ruby gaze upon her, “I would give up everything and more to see you smile, so do not fret my pigeon. I am happy and my only regret is that I did not find you sooner.” Pigeon briefly met the other girl’s gaze through her own mask, then turned her eyes groundsward bashfully. An amused giggle drew itself from the unmasked Raen’s lips, letting the speechless girl off with a peck atop her head, gently instructing, “Drink while I pack everything up and we’ll be off, hm?”

To the daughter of old aristocracy who’d excelled, who’d been drowned in meaningless praise and starved of connection, to the other who’d been abandoned, struggled and void of given worth, come to loathe herself, bound together with strings and puppetry, For one who longed to dote and the other who longed to be doted upon, pain ever tempered pain and need ever tempered need and tomorrow, they’d show Kugane the result again. Through paint and wood and string. 

#ffxivwrite2022 #ffxivwrite #temper

[gutterghosts]

Prompt #6 - Onerous

It had been two suns since papa had died. Ochmaa had sat in the silence of the yurt as the tribe paid their respects, but in her mourning, she was alone. At night when others retreated to their yurts, to the warmth of their families, she was alone. There was no warmth without papa. It didn’t even feel like a home anymore. Five suns and she had finally dried her tears or, perhaps, she had run out of them.

She had spent the morning wrapping his body in red and black linen, before draping his body in the dusty brown of the Urumet. Careful knots were woven to secure his body to the sled made from gnarled branches, her touch was gentle mindful not to pinch or push too hard. She wondered if his spirit was watching, if he knew how careful she had been with the body that had served him well for fifty-three summers.

The sun had not yet risen, merely peeking over the horizon when Ochmaa set out, dragging the sled and her father across the sandy dunes toward the Tail Mountains. Had she asked, others would have helped, her father was a beloved böö, but it was her burden to bear. He had given her so much. Summers of love, a family, a life she had never imagined when the Moks handler had dumped her in the desert. Abandoned in the night at ten summers, she had never felt so alone. Away from the only family she had known, however cruel they had been, it was better than being alone.

She remembered sitting in his yurt, his voice was deep, it commanded attention, but his tone had been gentle, soothing. She remembered the softness of his questions, the warmth which he exuded when dealing with a frightened child. He was the first person that had treated her like a blessing, not a curse. The first person not to treat her differently because she was blind. She had learned what love was, nurturing and unyielding, because of him.

By the time she had reached the base of the mountains her shoulders were blistered and bleeding, thick lengths of rope digging into blue flesh. Her legs ached, her hands trembled. But still, she did what papa had taught her, she endured. She ascended to the cliff that she and her father had sat at late at night, not high enough for the air to be thin, but high enough to feel the entirety of the Steppe beneath them. It was there that she laid out his body, peeling away the dirtied linens, stained from their travels. Their last journey together. She washed his feet and combed his hair, fingers weaving careful plaits that fell over his shoulders. She kissed his forehead and bid him a final farewell in whispered prayer to the Dusk Mother. She sat with him for several long bells, until the sun had set and stars freckled the dusk sky.

“When we die, Nhaama plucks our souls from our body and sews them into her twilight gown. We are returned to her, her last gift to us is that we can look down on those we love and that they can be reminded of us each time they look into the night sky,” her father had always told her. So, Ochmaa waited. Waited for the stars, so that her father could see that she had taken good care of him. That she had brought him to their special place. That the onerous journey had been worth it. It was there that she left him to before returned to the earth, worn away by the weather or devoured by beasts, and returned to the lonely desert.

“Goodbye, Papa.”

Goodbye, Ochmaa.

#ffxivwrite2022 #ffxiv xaela #ffxiv oc

[svaelfyr]

Bolt

The great plains of Othard near the Azim Steppe made for a truly ridiculous place to stage an ambush; gently rolling hills and an abundance of short grass made it difficult to hide anything at all. 

Perhaps that’s why the attack caught the Garlean reconnaissance unit by surprise.

A lone magitek walker, flanked and preceded by 3 rank-and-file troops on each side, soldiered on through the evening rain. The heavy footfalls of the machine tore at the earth and left a wake of muddy footprints, while those on foot bantered idly amongst themselves. Dark clouds rolled overhead, threatening the steppe’s occupants with distant roars of thunder. Rain seemed like it’d be the least of their problems before long.

Laid low in the dirt, three figures kept their breath still and their nerves steeled. One, an elezen man with black hair matted to his face by the rain and the mud, curled his fingers around the hilt of his still-sheathed katana. He wore clothes that had–at one point in the day–been colorful and ornate. Now they were stained with mud and stank of sweat and mildew. 

At his side were two Auri women, twins of the Himaa. They were—for all except one minor and one major detail—the mirror of one another. They matched each other in build, hair, face, expression, and even dress. It seemed they had leaned into their nature as ‘one soul in two bodies’. Their subtle difference lied in their eyes; each with one green and one yellow, but swapped in location between them. One, who lay upon her back against the small hill, gripped a great battle ax with both hands. The other, sprawled upon her front as though she were a spider ready to spring into the air above, had a white-knuckled grasp on two knives as the digits on both hands sunk into the soft earth below.

The three of them exchanged looks, sharing silent signals back and forth. Their minds were sharpened to every footfall of that magitek, the hills around them so shallow that they daren’t move from their spots to look in its direction. Each hiss of the pressure-driven mechanisms of the legs grew louder. Hssss-THNK.  Hssss-THNK. Hssss-THNK. 

Crrrrick-KA-THUM!

Tired of issuing idle threats, the evening sky loosed lightning into the plains, only a mile or so away, striking a long-dead tree. It lit up, scattering dried limbs in each and every direction, splinters and chips of wood spraying into the air like the burning lights of a firework.

This was as good a distraction as any.

Shocked by the sudden crack of lightning, the Garlean scouting troop turned their heads toward the obliterated tree, fixed by the sight of it for a moment. Even the magitek pilot paused his advance to observe. 

Footfalls were silent at first, but soon enough the splatter of muddy footfalls and the clatter of steel crescendoed as the trio crested the hill and darted through the plains toward their foes, all three of their faces stiffened with grim determination. 

All three of them soaked in rain and caked in mud.

All three of them ready to die for the freedom of their families.

#ffxiv writing #juchinai himaa #jachai himaa #cyran vernier #ffxiv roleplay #ffxivwrite2022

[tenuuchlegch]

❛ they’re not coming back. ❜

❃ "Aye, it appears life has left them," Odtsetseg agreed, as she observed the fallen soldiers before their sights.

- Being an adventurer or leading such a lifestyle was never suited for the faint of heart. Twas a risky buisness, where one constantly teetered betwixt life and death; a dance that many never made it back towards. Then there came those who were left behind, alone to mourn or question the complexities of this insane, unreasonable world.

- Xaela had been left out as a survivor numerous times, like some scavenger bird that refused to leave this existence. She had grown in a society where none denied life and destruction went together, akin towards some dynamic duo. Her line of work in particular occasionally demanded that she kill another so dancer or others might be defended properly. Yet now as the years of working in such affairs prolonged, steppe-dweller found herself silently inquiring what kind of lives deceased had. Did they have families? Stalwart companions? Or were they a sad, lonely soul? Pushing these notions aside, she then got up from observing the corpses.

- "Even if they are not coming back to their families alive, at least we can take comfort in the fact that we avenged them. Sometimes that is all one can do." Eyes then shifted over towards the other. "We can also carry their corpses back to the nearest settlement. I imagine that their loved ones would wish to know what happened."

#COME! I SHALL DANCE AND SING TO THE TRAGEDY OF FATE (ic) #ahkmourn #LET GO THIS DESTINY YOU'RE CAUGHT IN A TRANCE (answered ask) #((thank you for the ask <3)) #Death mention//

[slavicafire]

"My heart now is a nest of birds that left for winter"

- from Winter Letters (Listy Zimowe)

#winter letters #listy zimowe #what desolation buried itself in my heart now #what grief rules over me? #soul lonely as a steppe

[colorlesschristmastree]

Solitary Lovers

Hi! This is a one-shot Feysand spicy fic that I wrote!

I really tried my best to encapsulate their love and passion for each other through my writing. Hope you like it!

Spice level: Medium?

Contains spoilers for the entire series, including ACOSF!! :)

I’d been at the studio for hours now—working on a painting of a beast I’d seen while training in the Illyrian Steppes with Cassian. It’d been a massive beast, with so many traits from so many creatures that I could do nothing but try to capture its beauty on canvas.

It had large, black paws, each the size of my own head, leading up to scaled legs that reminded me so of the leathers the Illyrians donned for fighting. Its scaled legs held up a wide, stocky, armored body, black armor made out of a bone like material. I’d wondered if under all that tough bone-armor, it was soft.

It had a large head, feline in shape but with long pointed ears that rested flat on its head, massive, colorless eyes that soaked up any and everything in its surroundings.

I’d wanted to follow it, track it to its home and see the life it lived, see where it rested, but this beast had gone so long being undisturbed, it had no scars peppering it’s body and was entirely unaware of my presence.

Blissful.

Calm.

It reminded me of myself long ago, before the creditors came and shattered my fathers knee, before I went into those dangerous woods, before Amarantha and the war that followed her death.

So I left it be, and satisfied all of my imaginings by carving that blissful beauty onto canvas. Forever remaining as the solitary phantom lurking in the forest, forever remaining the alluring beast with eyes that could see into the pit of my soul, eyes that reminded me of that never-ending mirror that I claimed for the bone-carver.

My concentration broke as I heard—scented—his approach.

My Mate.

My ally in this harsh and brutal world, who had loved me, even when he thought, when he knew, that I would never love him back.

I was still in awe of his beauty, those blue-violet eyes twinkling in the bright lights of my studio.

“Hello, Feyre-darling,” he purred, coming up to stand directly behind me, his arms banded around my waist and he pulled me towards him, resting his chin in the crook of my neck, his eyes scanning the painting that’s taken me half the day to work on, “It’s beautiful. When did you see it?”

“Yesterday, in the Steppes. I was taking my break from training with Cass when I spotted it grazing.” I swallowed, looking over the neatly blended arrays of paint that made up the painting. “Do you know what it is?”

He let out a hmm, “No, I’m not actually sure. I’ve studied and catalogued every manner of creature that resides in those forests but I don’t recognize this one. I’ve never seen it, not in any of the books I was forced to read in the rigorous education that my father forced upon me in order to prepare me for being High Lord.” He nuzzled his nose into my neck, breathing in my scent, which was likely laced with the smell of paint and the dust from the new canvas I’d used.

After Nyx’s birth and my second interaction with death, he’s been more clingy. More on edge. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, chased from my dreams by the nightmares I still have, just to see him already awake, watching me with worry and fear etched onto his face.

Feeling his hard, unyielding body behind me, so plagued by worry, lead me to speak “Maybe it isn’t alone, maybe it knows that it’s beautiful and saves itself from those who would hurt it. Maybe after I left it returned to whatever home it resided in to be with its family. It’s easy to think it’s a lonely beast, but perhaps there’s something more. Some facet of its life that we can’t see. And if it is alone, let it be because it’s still looking for someone like it, someone to understand.”

I leaned my head against his chest, listening to the hammering of his heart, the heart that had been willing to stop beating if it meant that myself and the rest of our family would be safe.

He was so still, and so quiet that I turned myself around in his grasp so that I was facing him, and locked my arms around his neck.

We just stood there like that, gazing at each other like this meeting was our first—like we wanted the image of one another to be branded in our minds forever.

His eyes caught on my lips and stayed there, and I knew what his thoughts had lead him to. Scented that shift in him that matched my own.

So I kissed him, gently joining our lips together, feeling the softness of him that would yield to no one, save for me.

Our kissing grew desperate, his lips crashing into mine, his tongue scraping against my teeth.

I needed him. Now.

He must’ve understood my need, felt it through that star-flecked bond between us, because he winnowed us to the front door of the river house. In one smooth motion, he’d scooped me up in his arms, one arm under my knees, the other looped over my side and resting by my ribs.

The door opened for us, unlocked by whatever magic he’d bound to the house to allow it to open on our command.

He carried me up the steps and into our bedroom and laid me on the massive, neatly made bed.

The deep violet comforter like silk against the bare skin of my arms.

I hoisted myself on my elbows, lifting my shirt and undergarments over my head as he stepped back, watching me with hunger in his eyes, his rock solid cock jutting out against the fabric of his pants.

He pulled his own shirt over his head as I hastily unbuttoned my pants, I’d started to buck my hips off the bed and pull them off before his impatience got the best of both of us and he ripped them off of me. Practically tearing his own off, he pounced on me. His large hands on either side of my face as he kissed me. Moaning into my mouth and breathing heavily.

He kissed down the sharp edge of my jaw, his teeth grazing the smooth flesh that resided there and on my neck.

Every touch from him only further set me on fire, the wetness in-between my legs ever growing, my whole body aching to be touched by him. Felt by him.

His mouth stopped at the base of my throat, it bobbing as I swallowed. He bit down, right there in the center, sucking lightly. I moaned at the primal pleasure of it, the feeling as his teeth made contact with my skin.

I felt him laugh against me, soft darkness rolling off of him, filling up the room so that it was only us. We were the only people in the world.

He worked his mouth down my body, kissing and sucking my breasts, licking around my naval, nipping at my pelvis.

He went further down, his lips stopping just above that bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs. He looked up at me through thick lashes, “May I, my love?”

I took a moment to look at him, this beautiful male who I had fought for and who had fought for me before nodding my head and letting out a breathless, desperate “Yes”.

My permission undid whatever restraint he still had as he began devouring me. The swirling of his tongue on my cunt an incomprehensible pleasure. My back bowed off of the bed and I moaned in ecstasy. He slid in two of his fingers, working with his tongue to leech out pleasure from my sex

I couldn’t think, couldn’t breath, everything was so much. Too much. Everything wasn’t enough.

I wanted him, more, more, more.

I wanted him more than I ever thought I’d want anything.

“Rhys please,” I panted, looking down at him, his tongue moving in and out of my folds, “I need you inside of me. Now.”

Amusement and arrogance danced in those violet eyes, long gone was the sadness from not so long ago.

He stood up at the edge of the bed and idly stroked his cock, his fingers still gleaming with my wetness, glancing between it and me, arched on the bed, my legs spread and sex bared for him. “Is this what you want?” Another taunting stroke.

I nodded urgently and he again got on the bed, prowling over me until we were eye to eye and his breath tickled my face. I lifted up my legs, wrapping them around his strong back, keeping him close to me.

He reached his hand down, grasping that rock hard length and lined it up with my entrance, still gleaming with the moisture he brought out of me. He brought his hips down, easing inside of me, my innermost walls clamping down on him, desperate to bring him in deeper.

He groaned into my ear, and kissed my neck as he began thrusting himself in me. We moaned in tandem then, both of us overtaken by the sensations we wrung out of each other.

My nails raked down his back, scratching him hard enough to leave marks that would likely be there for days to come. Make him think of the taste and smell of me every time he remembered that they were there. He sped up, taking his right hand and wrapping it around my throat, feeling the pumping of my blood there.

He slammed into me, taking long and hard thrusts inside of me as I screamed, he likely felt the rumble of my voice with his hand on my throat.

My climax neared, his seemingly beginning to arrive as well as his thrusts became urgent and mindless

We erupted together, my orgasm ripping its way through my body as he spilled into me, his dark power surging out of him at the same time. Our bodies, minds, and souls all conjoined as we laid there entangled with each other.

He removed his hand from my neck and brought his lips to mine, kissing me softly. His kiss the prologue to the story we’d just told with our bodies, the love we’d just created with every kiss.

“I love you, Feyre. His voice a mere whisper in the dark but I heard it nonetheless.

“I love you too, Rhys.”

#feyre x rhysand #pro feyre #pro feysand #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #feysand smut #acomaf #acowar #contains spoilers for the entire series #feyre archeron #my posts

[thefirstknife]

Alright I might be missing something here but. I’m sure it’s mostly just convenient story telling but afaik there’s at least a few stories of Ghosts travelling off earth to look for their Guardians, so I’ve always been pretty curious how they, y’know, manage that. Like they seem to mostly paracausaly float, but can they actually break orbit solo that way or do they find their own ships? Even if they can break orbit solo, how on earth do they navigate let alone travel millions of miles between planets.

Like I said I’m sure it’s mostly just story telling convenience or up to personal interpretation but Damnit I Need Lore

There are some implications in lore that Ghosts basically follow people around and travel with them. Hitchhiking. Ghosts seems to naturally seek companionship and appear to be drawn to people in general, the Traveler and people they consider special in some way (like the Speaker).

From Ghost Stories, clearest example of people helping out Ghosts is Micah-10:

Perhaps all this travel has made me sentimental, for when one of my Ghost wards finds their Guardian, I am sad, because my pack grows smaller. I miss them when they are gone. Now I am down to one Ghost other than my own. Pup, we call him. The runt of my metallic litter. Pup has yet to speak, but always his little blue eye searches for his Guardian.

I plan to resupply at the Cosmodrome and then take Pup north. Those steppes are uncharted territory, except by that lone wolf, Conar. My correspondence with him is regular in the outbound direction; I consider myself lucky when he answers every fifth message. Still, you and I both know his intel is good. No one else knows Old Russia like he does.

Perhaps in the Cosmodrome I will find a ship capable of breaking atmosphere. Though there is much of this Earth I have yet to see, I have come across more than a few Ghosts who believe their Guardians are offworld, waiting in the Golden Age ruins of Freehold and Ishtar and beyond.

Now, Micah-10 is special and Ghosts naturally flock to her so her job of transporting Ghosts around may be unique to her. But it would also make sense that Ghosts ask for assistance to travel somewhere. People tend to help Ghosts out. For example, before Glint was Glint, the people in the Reef gifted him his shell.

But also, Micah's letter mentions the following as well:

Some of these little Lights have decided to brave the null on their own to reach their fated partners. I tell them there's still so much of Earth we've yet to sniff out, that perhaps their Guardians have not yet been born, but some of them are convinced. If my next Ghost pack wants to make the journey, I am determined to join them.

I'm not sure what it means when she says "on their own." It could be referring to some Ghosts from her pack going off without her and finding other people to travel with OR it could mean that they literally just go off travelling the system alone. I'm leaning into the former explanation more than the latter because she specifies that if any of her pack wants to go further out, she will join them. I don't think they can really travel off-Earth on their own.

One more example from Ghost Stories:

Her journey had spanned centuries—on Earth, the Moon, and Venus—but she never unearthed a single soul she felt worthy of the Light.

This is an unpartnered Ghost talking to another unpartnered Ghost about their experiences without having a Guardian. It's evidently common for Ghosts to go out searching beyond Earth. I'd definitely say they get help to do so.

There is also the existence of a Spectral Network which is basically an order of unpartnered Ghosts who serve the Vanguard as spies. I'm not sure if it would make much sense for them to need transport to move around, seeing as they work with spies, but also it never specifies whether they work outside of Earth AND they are officially under the Vanguard's jurisdiction so I would assume the Vanguard provides them with some assistance if they have to go off Earth.

A lot of speculation still though. We'll definitely get more information about Ghosts in Witch Queen I bet.

#destiny 2 #ghost #lore vibing #ask #i wouldn't be surprised if we got some extra information about ghosts being able to travel alone either #but for now it seems like they simply use transportation with people

[illegiblewords]

ILLEGIBLE’S TOTALLY SUBJECTIVE FAVORITE EORZEA COLLECTION DESIGNS: MALE

I’ve mentioned in the past, the main thing that made me start playing FFXIV properly was seeing people’s character designs. I’m still honestly blown away by the creativity and range of approaches people bring to this game, so I’ve decided to be an absolute madwoman and break my favorites into subcategories to share with anyone curious.

And to be clear. I’m not going to do something so broad as “oh top ten in-general :3″ because that would be sensible. No, I’m going to do it for all the current combat jobs. And all the current races. And different genders within the races and combat jobs as things stand. And I’m going to make a model-focus subcategory. And there are gonna be LOTS. Because I seriously cannot understate how inspired I’ve been by this community, and after however many years I just feel the need to vomit some incredible visuals I’ve encountered at you guys lol.

NOTE: In an abundance of caution, I want to stress this list isn’t a value judgment on anyone but a fragment of things that blew me personally away. Looking at the DRK sections it will be immediately clear that I Illegible really like that edgy dark knight aesthetic lmao, but there are plenty of non-edgy dark knights that I also love to bits. Other people might not like edgy dark knights. Due to a combination of size and search constraints plus trying to keep gear somewhat varied, these glamours are just what wound up on this particular list of mine. I could make another list one day. Other people can make lists too that are totally different.

Also, I was originally going to make a single post that went over male and female options presented in the character creator but straight up tumblr wouldn’t let me save because it got too big. You can see the female character post here.

And without further ado, let us begin.

COMBAT JOB GLAMOURS

PALADIN

- A Sinner’s Call by Skollhati Wolfhead

- Divine Judgment by Seth Alexander

- Chevalier by Avenaux Dzemael

- Holy Blade of the Goddesses by Lys Aludra 

- Metal Against the Clouds by Leon Aquitaine

- Spiky Paladin by Hunty Tohsaka

- Ishgardian Nightwatch by Leon Aquitaine

- The Centurion by Kaien Shimazu 

- Veteran Knight by Jax Shadowbane

- Archadian Magister: Chaos, Walker of the Wheel by Callum Crossy

WARRIOR

- Coerthan Berserker by Xennon Song

- Skullrender by Xennon Song

- Red Maw by Remearus Maes

- Mistbeard’s Guardian by Galandor Atreides

- Ash Fender by Keiteaux Kisarre

- Wandering Beast by Jax Shadowbane

- Battle Worn by Lyrus Omega 

- At The End Of All Things by Leon Aquitaine

- Demon Warrior by Ravian Ild

- Chieftain by Topher Kyo 

DARK KNIGHT

- The Deepshadow by Erin Arckanger

- Nightmare of the Paragons by Papa Cool'down

- The Oathkeeper by Dividus Yliaster

- Deus Knight by Dan Var

- Rage Awakened Final Mix by Fortnite Ninja

- Bale by Xennon Song

- Vampire Baron Knight by Lud Wachtel

- Gothic Souls by Krosah Makara

- Lunarian Knight by Xennon Song

- The Descendent of Ascians by Skyion Skytiel

GUNBREAKER

- Soot-Scaled Striker by Callum Crossy

- Unbound Hecatonchires by Callum Crossy

- The Lone Gunbreaker by Sir Owl

- Alliance Commander by Nova Kie

- Gunblade of the Lost by Ludin Hreitharr

- The Filibreaker by Atticus Averbach

- Neo-Skallic Guardian by Leon Aquitaine

- A bulwark in brass and steam by Filibert Lilibert 

- Plains Tribe Rite of Passage by Filibert Lilibert 

- Spaceage cowboy by Phon Fawn

DRAGOON

- A Slumbering God’s Herald by Lud Wachtel 

- The Elder Primals - Neath Dark Waters by Cassius Toledo

- The Occupied Drow City of Skalla by Leon Aquitaine

- Dravanian Viking by Sarafina Vadre

- The Wolf by J'roric Citlalloh

- Tribal Hrothgar Dragoon by Noxelus Virmire

- whitewind by Chiceneaux Selechant

- Edensguard by Kyo Ise

- Dragonblood Knight by Sylvaire Catrevaut

- Mercenary in Mixed Metals by Filibert Lilibert 

SAMURAI

- The Dragon of Doma by Ky Tanimura

- Shadow of the Shifting Sands by Dai Tachibana

- Homura by Remearus Maes

- Monster Slayer by Kaien Shimazu

- Good Hunting by Remearus Maes

- Jury by Remearus Maes

- Ronin of the Steppe by Remearus Maes

- Dominicus Secutor by Remearus Maes

- Warg Samu by Fena Mizu

- White Dragon by The Solideizer

NINJA

- Armored Ninja by Ludger Magniar

- Desert Scar by Magnus Wolfwood

- Righteous Assassin by Lys Aludra

- Classic Shinobi Traditional Ninja Garb by Mog Champ

- White Dragon by King Resh

- Deadly Emissary by Lys Aludra

- night’s blessed by Chiceneaux Selechant

- Umbral Blade by Arik Nergui

- Ascianssin by Dragoon Scythe

- Wolf of Twelveswood by Punch Mage

MONK

- Fists of the Sun by Alois Lefleur

- Inner Beast by T'yan Ardeo

- Vathliege Samurai by Austen Bloodspatter

- Ala Mhigan Monk by D'jango Dojango

- Bozjan Brawler by Sahl Suh

- Liberator by Thriced Talon

- Flightless Hawk by Remearus Maes

- Firebrand by Lys Aludra

- Debugging in Process by Uskhal Dalamiq

- Falling Eagle by Feather Relanah

BARD

- Reaper-Inspired Bard by Flower Blossom

- Purest arrow by Lys Aludra

- Hunter of Lost Souls by Sahl Suh

- Bloodsinger by Lys Aludra

- Wanderer of the Past by Nyuki Dewinter

- Maelstrom Song by J'roric Citlalloh

- Sand Hunter by R'yo Aderyd

- Tactical Automaton by Lys Aludra

- Ballads of Azim Steppe by T'yan Ardeo

- Violet Archer by T'yan Ardeo

DANCER

- Flying Guillotine by Punch Mage

- Shadowed Step by Callum Crossy

- Rift Crusader by Onuki Saiga

- Prince Ali by Leisha Aysheen

- Battle Dancer by Ray Stormbringer

- Paglth’an Dancer by Vib'e Cheque

- Waterfall Adagio by T'yan Ardeo

- Memories of a Silhouette by Damien Cavalier 

- Midnight Mint by Violet Wooden

- The Dancing Plague by Geraltus D'doritus

MACHINIST

- Fran - Chase by Goelia Sarantia

- Gunslinger by Lys Aludra

- Well-Stocked Sky Pirate by Sari Mogari

- Bozjan Ops by Ilium Lavendeer

- Wild Western Demon Hunter by Mori Sumire

- High Class, High Seas by Yannick Ostheimer

- Onmyo Bullet by Uskhal Dalamiq

- The Wanderer by Dividus Yliaster

- Wildfire by Lys Aludra

- Intrepid Expeditioner by Brazen Elk

BLACK MAGE

- Bohemian Mage by Darmoreaux Lestrange

-  Bonewicca Cultist by Baruk Twinfang

- Chosen of Thal by Jophrey Lethe

- Abyssal Wizard by Jarvis Brakkenwork

- Summer Augurer by Uskhal Dalamiq

- the dark wizard by Eldar Claymore

- Masque of the Red Death by Junius Naenia

- Desert Cultist by Mayo Takoyaki

- Herald of the Zodiac - Geminis by Leisha Aysheen

- Herald of the Zodiac - Aries by Leisha Aysheen

SUMMONER

- Desert Emperor by Nilla Balthasva

- Arch Demon Summoner by Demnoc Crohn

- Verbatim by Twitch Prime

- Shinshoku by Callum Crossy

- The Fool by Bruno Brecher

- The Wandering Mage by Camilla Croft 

- Gilded Evoker by Zionek Aurum

- Ensorceled Evoker by Haereidin Doeszwynsyn

- Dusk Groom by J'roric Citlalloh

- Deepwood wanderer by Lys Aludra

RED MAGE

- Vagabond Prince by Falion D'erenian

- Ronkan Cultist by J'roric Citlalloh

- Desert Scout by Frahn Loxner'et

- The Goblin King by Leon Aquitaine

- Summoned Guardian by Leon Aquitaine

- Eastern Red Mage by Red Grande

- Royal Rose by Zanel Slayer 

- dual wielding swords by Kiraster Alroumi

- Steampunk Red Mage by Ry Tempester

- Reiterpallasch Hunter by J'roric Citlalloh

- Stroll in the snow by Riv'ir Gwyn

WHITE MAGE

- Winter Druid by Uskhal Dalamiq

- Herald of the Light by Kazek Amilia

- Desert White Mage by Iosen Juan

- Menphina’s Beloved by Puk'a Sweetfellow

- The Ill-fated Doctor by Charybdis K'reon

- The Doc by Denmo Mcstronghuge

- Minion Masquerade- Anima by Aetherflow Media

- cold front by Chiceneaux Selechant

- Secret Keeper by Feather Relanah

- Forest Mage by Sylviel Terrechant

SCHOLAR

- Studium Provost by Uskhal Dalamiq

- Field Medic by Seyo Senpai

- Stayin Classy Highlander Scholar by Aetherflow Media

- Writer of Fates by Olli Cannoli

- Secret of Nym by Nicky Tilmit

- Scholar of the Wilds by Sohk'yon Ayhan

- The First Cartographer by Edeon Vails

- Warg Sage by Ricola Tesla

- Dark Eastern Healer by Teru Nashira

- Sad Angel by Liam Gray

ASTROLOGIAN

- Jewel in the Sands by Vosric Oros

- Oracle of the East by Zyrus Highwind

- Golden Sun by Jarvis Brakkenwork

- Dalamiq Seer by Uskhal Dalamiq

- Misfortune Teller by Sahl Suh

- The Red Card by Yujin Seo

- Forgiven Soothsayer by Mongoose Mandolin

- Catharsis by Edeon Vails

- Proud Wave by Khurt Wagner

- Alpha Reticulii by R'yo Aderyd

BLUE MAGE

- King by Ray Fontelon

- Imposter Red Mage by Jarvis Brakkenwork

- Le Cirque Du Rosier by Callum Crossy

- Cobalt Enchanter by Tyo'li Wolndara

- Blubomb by Frahn Loxner'et 

RACE GLAMOUR SPILLOVER

HYUR MIDANDER

- Faraam by Remearus Maes

- Gate Keeper by Remearus Maes

- The Guardian by Kizake Hayashi

- Mistbeard by Remearus Maes

- Blood Hunter by Lys Aludra

- Jiangshi by Dezel Windriders

- Alliance Salvager by Remearus Maes

- Edengrace Conqueror by Lys Aludra

- Bozjan Rampage by Xennon Song

- Northern Banneret by Lys Aludra

FAVORITE MODELS:

- Fists of the Sun by Alois Lefleur

- Ronin of the Steppe by Remearus Maes

- Armored Ninja by Ludger Magniar

- Vagabond Prince by Falion D'erenian

- Bloodsinger by Lys Aludra

HYUR HIGHLANDER

- From Darkness Comes Light by Niran Ashbel

- Black Wolf by Night Mazino

- Murderous School Bus by Night Mazino

- Desperado Breaker by Julies Solomon

- WW2 Pilot by Orillion Aldoreel

- Demon Hunter by Duffy Gelatoni

- Maelstrom Duelist by Roscoe Rackham

- Black Dragon by Lophen Leif 

- Weathered Wanderer by Goro Yamaguchi

- Ravager by Night Mazino

FAVORITE MODELS:

- Jewel in the Sands by Vosric Oros

- Murderous School Bus by Night Mazino

- Desert White Mage by Iosen Juan

- Stayin Classy Highlander Scholar by Aetherflow Media

- Dravanian Viking by Sarafina Vadre

ELEZEN

- Lost Thief by Kaunoet Tyshatont

- Princely Protector by Liam Gray

- Cold Mornings, Warm Hearts by Leon Aquitaine

- I don’t know what a swash is but I’m buckling it by Raythe Ondore

- Peregrine by Yannick Ostheimer

- Obsidian and Blood by Leon Aquitaine

- Obsidian Gold by Arius Althea 

- Purple Mage by Kaunoet Tyshatont

- Lord Archer by Mori Sumire

- Angel of Temperance by Agana Belea

FAVORITE MODELS:

- cold front by Chiceneaux Selechant

- Angel of Temperance by Agana Belea

- Lost Thief by Kaunoet Tyshatont

- Oracle of the East by Zyrus Highwind

- Ishgardian Nightwatch by Leon Aquitaine

LALAFELL

- Berserker by Munchkin Doofus

- Crimson Dragoon by Janaan Fabre

- Tiny Fist by Barca Ul'nanaca

- Chimera Dragoon by Janaan Fabre

- Royal n’ Loyal by Janaan Fabre

- Manor Estoqueur by Lia Tales

- Stargazer by Ikki Kohi

- Hazardous Caster by Astrancea Quasar'ae

- White Wolf Healer by Pickle Nibbler

- Bard of the Forest by Ryker Nightingale

FAVORITE MODELS:

- Stargazer by Ikki Kohi

- White Wolf Healer by Pickle Nibbler

- Well-Stocked Sky Pirate by Sari Mogari

- Tiny Fist by Barca Ul'nanaca

- Plains Tribe Rite of Passage by Filibert Lilibert

MIQO’TE

- Fran - Be Quiet by Goelia Sarantia

- The Assassin by Akira Tia

- Warrior of the Sands by U'zolwe Tia

- The Silencer by Grayson Foxworthy

-  nemesis by M'rhene Tia

- Caecius by Callum Crossy

- The Imperial by Rein Drops

- Storm Duelist by K'aihx Nianh

- Cyber Mage by L'unick Tia

- T-53M: Omega by Lib'ra Jarilo

FAVORITE MODELS:

- Fran - Be Quiet by Goelia Sarantia

- Ala Mhigan Monk by D'jango Dojango

- Cobalt Enchanter by Tyo'li Wolndara

- Edensguard by Kyo Ise

- Maelstrom Song by J'roric Citlalloh

ROEGADYN

- Sin Eater Forgiven Wrath by Arkhon Dullgaroth

- Platebreaker by Biggus Dickkus

- Berzerker Warrior by Cata Clysm

- Dravanian Shadow Knight by Galandor Atreides

- Santa Claus by Aetherflow Media

- Knight of the East by Galandor Atreides

- Roegadyn Samurai by Raiden Hagane

- The Real Barbarian by Milla Lariswind

- The Discipulus by Haereidin Doeszwynsyn

- Cactpot Crackpot by Kaemin Moore

FAVORITE MODELS:

- Knight of the East by Galandor Atreides

- Flying Guillotine by Punch Mage

- The Fool by Bruno Brecher

- Battle Claus by Bard Bro

- The Real Barbarian by Milla Lariswind

AU RA

- Fatewalker by Kaien Shimazu

- Combat Casual by Arik Nergui

- Suzaku’s Champion by Uskhal Dalamiq 

- Herald of the Zodiac - Taurus by Leisha Aysheen

- The Anti-Paladin by Bastion Blackwater

- Zero by Ace Valstra'liah

- Elegant Duelist by Yoni Neel

- Herald of the Zodiac - Pisces by Leisha Aysheen

- Valkyrie by Rogan Hunter

- Devout of the Sun by Uskhal Dalamiq

FAVORITE MODELS:

- Herald of the Zodiac - Pisces by Leisha Aysheen

- Combat Casual by Arik Nergui

- Samurai of Alexander by Ky Tanimura

- Winter Druid by Uskhal Dalamiq

- Herald of the Zodiac - Geminis by Leisha Aysheen

HROTHGAR

- Snowfall by Ese Pajic

- Heavy by Radio Jackun 

- Defender of the Forest by Hana Kagura

- Risen Dynasty by Zeth Xerval

- Forgiven Pride by Yoshi Pendragon

- Queen’s Guard by Sahl Suh

- Lord of Umbral Pyre by Stahlhart Vahn'reiz

- Jade Maw by Shin Okusawa

- Einherjar by Baruk Twinfang

- The Exorcist by Haereidin Doeszwynsyn

FAVORITE MODELS:

- Heavy by Radio Jackun

- Tribal Hrothgar Dragoon by Noxelus Virmire

- Gunblade of the Lost by Ludin Hreitharr

- Desert Scar by Magnus Wolfwood

- Risen Dynasty by Zeth Xerval

#Eorzea Collection #Final Fantasy XIV #FFXIV #FF14 #Final Fantasy 14 #FFXIV Glamours

[aislinnelaquorra]

Where are we?

@daily-writing-challenge

An ooc introduction for my FFXIV character with some in-character ramblings to introduce her further!

Aislinne La’quorra

A Scholar, mercenary, and Au Ra-of-many-trades. A Xaela born of the Dotharl tribe on the Azim Steppe. However, she was much an outcast of her tribe, as one who didn’t have a previous Dotharli soul in her. Though this isn't her original self. Aislinne finds herself in an.. unfamiliar situation with the memories of two people: her original self, and this Au Ra girl.. an Au Ra girl that she has met before and spent a significant amount of time with.

She’s since returned to her work with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, who were able to recognize her as a friend and stalwart ally and spends her time traveling with people who have accepted her, something she didn’t have during her time in the tribe. She still struggles to fit in from time to time, finding that harmony between the two people she once was, and definitely has some trouble talking about her two past selves together.. but she’s finding her way.

Learn more about Aislinne at her Carrd [WIP], or her LFRP bio!

This blog is entirely dedicated to her, but is woefully empty at the time of writing this. This is my first time trying to write! I’ve been told I have a creative mind but I’ve never done something like this so thoughts/tips/advice is much appreciated!

Read more below for some in-character self-roleplay for more information on her backstory!

—

Tw: Death mentions for Aislinne, no others.

Notes: Avoiding spoilers for any main expansions. This hopefully serves as some insight to get to know Aislinne a little more and how she is as a character.

Other character mentions for @nafisabast​, Shiratori Qestir (Na’fisa Alt), Aur’ilie Qestir (My Alt), and a previous Aislinne La’quorra.

—

It was a warm evening in Gridania. Orange light from the sunset filtered into the Carline Canopy from its open entrance as patrons conversed inside. Amongst them was Aislinne La’quorra, an Auri girl at a lone table towards the front. She pulls out a new, leather-bound journal and unties its binding to open it. She takes a quill and a fresh bottle of ink from her bag and sets all the items on the table. Well, Krile had wanted her to keep a journal in case anything else happened with her Echo and now that things have calmed down a little, she felt now would be a good time.

“Where do I even begin here? I feel as though much has happened in the short time since I have left the Steppe a few months prior. Though my time on the Steppe in my tribe, the Dotharl tribe, was less than ideal. I did not fall in with their customs of reincarnation and was treated as an outcast. I wasn’t even graced with a name, and was commonly referred to as ‘You’ or ‘Girl’. I wasn’t the happiest of them all, of course, but I didn’t resent them. Someone with as weak a soul as mine could never live up to be a fierce, Dotharli warrior like they wanted, so I understand their treatment of me. They at afforded me a home and food. Rather than fighting, they tasked me with more menial duties, such as cleaning or repairing clothes.”

Aislinne pauses and twirls the braid in her hair a bit. She takes a deep breath and a sip of the water she had bottled from a spring earlier in the day. The Auri girl rests her cheek on her knuckles and thinks for a moment before moving onward.

((Picture ID: Aislinne, shown on the left with her back slightly turned, converses with Aur’ilie (center) and Shiratori (right), two members of the Qestir tribe about the goings-on of Reunion.))

“As I grew older, these duties expanded past our tribal home of Dotharl Khaa and into the place known as Reunion and it was there that I met two others from another tribe that actually showed kindness to me.. though they don’t talk. Their names are Aur’ilie and Shiratori, though I call them Aur’il and Shira. Shira in particular interested me. I’ve heard of the Raen before, but I didn’t think I would meet one here on the Steppe.”

She pauses again and furrows her brow, thinking long and hard for a brief few moments. She sets her quill back into her inkwell and leans back on her stool. She calls back to a certain set of memories that causes her to wince in pain slightly before sitting upright and picking her quill back up.

((Picture ID: While tending to livestock in Dotharl Khaa, Aislinne meets her previous self for the first time.. or is it Aislinne meets her next self?))

"This part might be a little confusing, but.. it wasn’t long after befriending those two when I met myself -- and my previous self met me. She was a Viera who was traveling for the Scions and had found her way into the Azim Steppe. She was quite the outgoing person, much unlike myself at that time. She took a special liking to me, and upon hearing about our customs and my story, she even challenged Sadu Khatun to a battle for rights to take me outside the Steppe, if only a little while. To much surprise, she had won and had bore me away from Dotharl Khaa to see other parts of Othard and even Hingashi briefly. She even got to meet Aur’il and Shira in Reunion before we left.”

She smiles and sighs as she goes on to recount the tales she was told about the adventures. Only now she had lived them as well.

“But like most good things, this had to come to an end. I was eventually brought back with a new view of the world and, while she had visited often, she eventually needed to leave as well.”

((Picture ID: Aislinne has an odd dream in an unfamiliar place. The sky is alit with an odd starshower and she sees an ethereal version of her previous self drift towards her and reaches out to grab her hand.))

She scratches her head and reads over what she’s already written. Aislinne looks outside, seeing that the sun had sunk well beneath the horizon already.

“Well.. I suppose this is when it all really started for me. I hadn’t seen my previous self in a while. Not until I had this dream. I didn’t recognize where it was but she was slowly falling towards me. I reached up a hand to touch hers and when we made contact, the sky flashed and stars started showering the land around us and I heard those words that have since become familiar to me from hearing them as my previous self: ‘Hear. Feel. Think.’ And then I woke up. It was foolish of me to think it was just a normal dream, but I really didn’t feel that much different when I awoke. However, others would come to tell me that I seem different somehow, that I was carrying myself differently, or they saw a different kind of light in my eyes.”

((Picture ID: Aur’ilie and Shiratori are attacked by the Oronir and Buduga, possibly for their unique abilities. Aislinne suddenly feels something rise within her, grabbing the weapon of the fallen Budugan warrior and rushing to their aid.

"I remember it had started raining at some point that day I had that dream, but I still had a task to carry out in Reunion. I met with my escort and we made our way from Dotharl Khaa to Reunion where we could trade and purchase the things we needed. It had been quite some time since I had last seen Aur’il and Shira at that point, maybe a little after my previous self said her goodbyes to them. I was able to step away from my escort soon after making our trades and looked to find them but they were nowhere to be seen. Though the sounds of combat arose from just outside, I went to check things out and there I saw them being attacked by two Budugan warriors and an Oroniri warrior. Aur’il had just taken down one of the Budugans and I had caught Aur’il’s eye for but a moment, which was enough for one of the others to wound her. She looked back at me and signaled for me to stay away, and I shook in fear.. but only for a moment.”

Aislinne breathes deeply as she relives the memory. She could still remember the rush of adrenaline she felt as she continues on with writing.

“I could feel something swelling inside of me.. a sort of feeling that I can’t really explain. Then all of a sudden, that feeling overwhelmed me and I could no longer feel the fear. I charged out and picked up the fallen Budugan’s weapon and stood to defend Aur’il and Shira. Somehow, even though it was my first time using a weapon, I was able to fight them off. Aur’il and Shira looked at me with widened eyes. They seemed bewildered by my sudden actions, and soon, so was I. It wasn’t long after that all these memories and feelings rushed into me and I soon collapsed from it all. Aur’il and Shira brought me back into Reunion and found my escort who had carried me back to Dotharl Khaa with the two Qestiri women in tow. I rested quite a while before I woke up.. and Sadu had come to see me. She told me that she could see Aislinne in me now, but she couldn’t before and now my eyes have changed from a murky black to a bright pink color, much like hers. I couldn’t doubt her words. There’s not many who could best her in combat, it would only be right for her to recognize a soul as bright as this one. I stared at her for a moment and at the two Qestiri women standing at the opening of the yurt. She was telling me that my previous self, as I knew her, had died and her soul was with me now. I.. wasn’t sure how to feel in the moment. I could tell she was right.. I could recall the memory of what happened but..”

Aislinne takes a deep breath to calm herself. Her fingers gently thrum the wooden tabletop. She decides she doesn’t want to go too much into detail here and she picks up her quill again.

“It was then that I was given my name -- my full name. Sadu said she could tell that Nhaama had bigger plans for me than what would the Steppe had to offer and it wouldn’t do to have the tribe’s name branded onto mine as would be tradition. Though she cursed not having me for the coming Naadam. My attitude had severely changed, but I still felt like me. I still stayed within the Steppe for a time but eventually it came time for me to go. I stopped by Reunion to see Shira and Aur’il before I left. I told them it wasn’t goodbye, and that I would return to the Steppe when I could to see them. They asked me where I was headed, and I had told them I need to go west in search of someone who could help me understand what is happening to me. I needed to find Krile, someone who I had only recently found out about, but I knew she could help.”

Aislinne begins to write a little faster, though her inkwell was beginning to run out from the amount she’s putting into this one entry. 

“It took a bit of time, but I was able to secure passage to Eorzea with a merchant ship of the East Aldenard Trading Company. I can’t say the experience was pleasant. I seem to recall my previous self’s experience with Lord Lolorito was about the same as I felt with Hancock, and it was through no feeble sum of Gil that he allowed me transport. At least it gave me an opportunity to get used to my new abilities and earn some coin before I left. The travel went by in what seemed like a moment, but I know it was much longer. I also knew - once I had made land - I had to make my way to the Rising Stones in Mor Dhona to find Krile, or at least have Tataru tell me where I could find her. The routes were familiar, yet it felt as if it was the first time I had been to Eorzea - I found myself ever still in awe of the sights. Mayhap it was due to my change in height.. Vieras are quite tall, and well, I’m pretty short for my race, especially compared to that of the male Xaela. It was pretty easy to enter the Stones, though unfamiliar I was to the other Scions.. maybe we should be more on guard with who is able to enter our base of operations. There was that one time, in the Waking Sands--”

The Auri girl chuckles to herself and shakes her head. Another time, maybe, but it is getting rather late and she should think about wrapping up this entry soon.

“Anyways, luckily for me, the two Lalafellin women were in the main area of the Rising Stones. They looked at me curiously as I entered, but it was Krile who was most surprised. We sat down and had a chat for a while. It was a little nerve-wracking, talking to them as an old friend in a new body. Krile accepted the story though. It’s good that her Echo lets her listen to the whispers of the soul. She likely found solace in seeing me after losing my previous self. I’m glad the others weren’t there at the time. I’m not sure they would have been ready to see me, and I was much in the same state. When I asked her to help me understand what was happening to me, she suggested we travel to Sharlayan, where she had access to better study material, and so we went. It was a short time, but I used the opportunity to study amongst some of the Students of Baldesion and read what books were available to me in the Noumenon. Though my favorite memory of being there was probably the time spent at the Last Stand. The tea set was most calming, and not something you’d experience anywhere near the Steppe.”

Aislinne looks up, witnessing a few patrons start to leave, or some heading to their rooms in the Roost. She rubs the back of her neck and polishes off the rest of her water.

"Eventually, it came time to leave Sharlayan, return to Eorzea and, with Krile’s help, reintegrate myself with the Scions. They were... surprised, surely. Though Y’shtola seemed to recognize me almost immediately, for obvious reasons. The other Scions, too, came to accept me as I am now. It was refreshing, for both parts of me, to work with them again and not confined within the Azim Steppe. And with this came downtime to walk Eorzea on my own. I traversed to Gridania via airship first. Cid and the others of Garlond Ironworks were happy to give me a lift as long as I provided them details of my story. I believe Cid was happy that this story did not involve any barriers, so I decided not to tell him about the big one I saw in Yanxia when I passed through. Soon we had reached my destination. This is where I first started out as an adventurer - in my newly gained previous life. I could remember how much I enjoyed wandering under the shade of the Twelveswood, and the amount of time I spent helping at the Archer's and Botanist's Guilds. Some others who heard my tale - when I dared speak it - believed me. Others, of course, did not. After some time, a few days or so, I chose to move on. From the forests, to the sea! I boarded another airship from the landing and headed to La Noscea and Limsa Lominsa. It was one thing to see the sea while sailing on the trade ship, but it was another to be in the magnificence of Limsa Lominsa on the water. I did always like the sound of the waves. It’s much different than the sound of the winds blowing on the Steppe, but calming nonetheless."

Aislinne yawns and stretches. There were but a few late stragglers left in the Carline Canopy, and she was one of them. She smiles as Mother Miounne approached her with a fresh cup of tea and oil refill for the lantern on the table. Aislinne whispered a quick thanks as she settled in to write about Ul'dah.

((Picture ID: Aislinne watches Na’fisa from afar, unsure how to approach her as she performs on the streets))

"After reacquainting myself with some of the guildmasters, I decided to make one last trip over to Ul'dah. It may not be the happiest place, but the strongest memories and feelings I received come from here.. from someone."

Aislinne pauses and brings her teacup to her lips. It was less to actually drink the tea and more to hide the silly grin and the blush she had on her face. Soon, she does take a sip of the tea and sets it back down to continue writing.

"I aimlessly wandered the Sapphire Avenue Exchange in Ul'dah at first. I wasn't planning on buying anything. It was more to bide my time until I headed over to the Ruby Road Exchange. The street was lined with peddlers and merchants of all kinds, but I wasn't interested in buying anything here either. I came here for the dancing girls. Not that I like watching them for enjoyment! I mean I do, but--"

She shakes her head to clear it before scribbling out that last bit and taking another sip of her tea.

"I came here to find that someone I wrote about earlier. Her name is Na'fisa, a Seeker of the Sun Miqo’te. She was a dancer and would regularly dance on the Ruby Road. She was... is someone special to me. She and my previous self spent a lot of time together and I could still feel how strongly I felt for her. It wasn't long until I did find her. I watched her dance from afar and waited until her performance was over so I could approach her.. but as it did, I froze. I felt a fear I don't think I have felt since I first saw Shira and Aur'il being attacked back on the Steppe. A lot of things went through my head then. I feared what would happen if she didn't believe all that happened to me and if she treated me differently. What if she forgot me? What would I even say to her? What if she found someone else?"

Aislinne takes a deep breath to calm herself and rid her mind of the bad thoughts entirely. After all, she already knew the answers to some of these questions.

((Picture ID:  Aislinne holds Na’fisa’s wrist and strokes the side of the her face as the Miqo'te grimaces from the pain she experiences when seeing the memory of two souls meeting from both perspectives.))

"It was a tad overwhelming, but even though the performance had ended, I found my eyes continued to be drawn to her as she strode over to her belongings and picked up a red collar that could easily been mistaken as a small scarf, if not for the golden bell adorning the front of it. It was a gift I had given her before I had departed Eorzea for a time. I watched as she ran her fingers along the fabric and gently touched her nose to the bell before putting it away and leaving. I found my own fingers reach for the base of my horns, where they touched a set of earrings that she had given me the same day she received the collar."

Aislinne reaches up and touches the earrings again as she writes with a soft smile.

"I stayed in Ul'dah for a few days, as I did in the other city-states, and each night, I came to watch her perform, and as each ended, she did the same thing with the collar as she did the first night. On the last night, I felt it was time. Watching her care and caress the collar gave me.. hope. So, I followed her.. and followed her.. and.. well I didnt get to confront her myself.. I lost her, but she knew she was being followed and instead turned it around on me. Na'fisa had questions, of course, and I had answers. But first I asked for some privacy. This was the sort of thing she should maybe be in a comfortable environment to hear. She brought me to her room in the Quicksand, and, after a brief tense moment, I explained who I was and what had happened. She didn't believe me, at first, but she saw the memories through her Echo when she took the bindings on her golden eye off. Likely the same memories Krile saw, accompanied by the same pain. I comforted her, and showed her the earrings she made for me. I do think she believes me now, but I know this is a huge change for her. There were things I wanted to tell her; things I should have said before I left, but at least right then, I don't think she would have wanted to hear them from me as I am now. But I don't want to leave things as they are. I plan to make things normal between us again, and maybe then, I can tell her I love her."

Aislinne looks up and watches as the last of the patrons are leaving for the night. She had been writing for quite a long time. The Auri girl magicks the ink dry before shutting the journal and binding it, satisfied with what she wrote on her current events. She got up from the table, helped Mother Miounne snuff the rest of the lanterns, and returned to her room in the Roost before laying down for a much needed rest.

#thoughts from aislinne #others:na'fisa #daily-writing-challenge #dwc2022 #ffxiv #ffxiv screenies #ffxiv rp #ic writing #my writing

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Sunday 23 March 1840

..

11 ½

before I was awaked by George coming to say the Semovar was ready breakfast before 9 and off at 10 5/.. and the house = our 2 little rooms and 2 more or one other room where the servants were – a lone house on the steppe with ½ dozen calmuc huts at a little distance and not a tree or shrub to be seen in any direction – our postmaster a respectable looking man – his place =  about 150/. per annum – his wife and children at Astracan [Astrakhan] – dull – reads – a new testament large small old folio volume printed at St. P- this on the small 4to. history of Siberia in Russian in 1745 – yet he would calculate by his machine and it seemed to be sometime before this shewed him clearly that 22v. at 9 = 198 s. kop. + greasing 12= just 2 silver rubles and a ten silver kopper piece – George thought tit not worthwhile wasting time – explanation – the courier my Attaman marche route against the one I had from the P.O. at Moscow and his own – right – the greasing they made it out was to be paid whether my grease

or not and whether done or not – said I would have an end of possibility of pother by getting an official P.O. marche route with prices marked at Kisliar [Kizljar] – off (from Kurotchikina) at 10 5/.. very little snow yesterday as we came along – mere streaks and mud and waters – today the ground pretty generally white with snow – and little waters occasionally – jolted now on wheels about as much as on patterns (sur roués as sur patins) except the big jolts – at 11 ¼ a Calmuc caravan of telegas drawn up at a little distance the horses at pasture – not a soul but Salmucks – no hut or house but the station house all the way from Astracan [Astrakhan] – here as at the last station a few Calmuck kibitkas (tents) at a little distance – and 2 or 3 of their little big-reed-fenced cattle-yards – each containing perhaps 400 or 500 yards square but no shelter except that afforded by the red fence – of bundles of reeds 6ft. long +? – the red sand steppe covered with the white prickly little thing we noticed 1st at Tchernoi-Jar? and with a coarse grass of which they make their hay – which seem to grow a narrow couple of feet high – the hay is often as long, and as coarse as fine straw – at our 2nd station Kurotchkina at 1 5/.. – no horses – walked about a little from one of the Calmuc cattle yards A- made a little sketch of the back buildings of our station and I of the front of the house – standing not far from one of the piles of these tall reeds that they pile, rear up, in stacks as it were for use – but these things look rather like conical hut in the distance – we saw the horses return at 2 20/.. – only 9 here – and only 3 at home when we arrived – tis now 3 10/.. just as I have written the last 6 lines of p.103 and thus far – 2 little rooms here as last night – dam almost smattered – clean and tidy but terribly échauffées – off at 4 – at 5 10/.. 5 or 6 calmuck huts rude beginning of cottages, and apparently inlet of the Caspian (right) the first I have observed ½ hour ago (i.e. at 4 40/..) – tall reeds (bulrushes) and flock of wild geese? soon afterwards flight of small birds – larks? thrushes? what? and inlet of sea and straggling reeds on this side and tall forest of them on along the other side the inlet – a few willows today – this stage – water brackish last right and this morning – at Djurukowskaia at 8 25/.. for the night – tea at 9 35/.. in about an hour – fine but sunless day – our room small and hot (same plan of station house as last night) but better than one kibitka – one can lie down at full length – put our mattresses, on the benches – the rooms too small to allow floor enough – and lay down at 11 ½ p.m. R14 ½° to 15° in our little room –