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FFXIV Write 2024 - Day 20 - Duel

"I…I challenge you!"

Fenris watched, bemused, as the glove used to smack him in the chest fluttered to the ground, forlorn and rapidly growing bedraggled in the slush and ice.

"No."

"Wh… You can't… You can't say no."

Fenris smiled, that slow, bemused smile that no more reached his eyes than any other smile did these days. "I think you'll find I just did, little popinjay." Carefully pulling the cigarette case from his breast pocket, and a cigarette from it's depths, he struck thumb against foreknuckle, creating enough spark to light the end. A long, slow drag, exhaling the smoke in a swirling cloud of dragon's breath around them. Granted everyone was huffing and puffing in this interminable cold, the legacy of a fallen moon. But his had the distinct scent of clove and spice, now.

"But your honor, ser. You are bound to pick…"

"I'm bound to do nothing, you mewling quim, especially not fight a duel with a child barely out of leading strings who only shaves for form's sake and probably barely knows more about the art of fencing than 'stick them with the pointy end'. My honor is not so fragile a thing that yon dilettante debutante accusing me of accosting her at a party a month ago when I was not even in residence in the city would tarnish it, nor am I over worried about what the waggle tongued matrons of the city might say of me. A rake is the least of the names I've been called in my time. Pick up your glove, and be done with this ham-fisted attempt to duel the lass's ill advised wanderings from the brood into obscurity. Or at least, learn to pick your targets with more care." Another long drag of smoke, exhaling it through his nose, watching the youngster bluster, straighten, and try to determine if pressing the issue would yield any result better than a further tongue lashing. Something in the golden eyes watching him must have dissuaded him, because he did stoop, fetch his glove, and his lady, marching off with the stiff gait of someone with more pride than sense.

Fenris allowed himself a snort, feeling the sting of the smoke in his sinuses as he did, and a shake of his head. He wasn't so far removed from that youth and yet he had to wonder. Had he ever been that naive?

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FFXIV Write 2024 - Day 19 - Taken

"Where are you?"

Stix hummed, thoughtfully, pushing his glasses up his nose and regarding the young man across the table from him with a slow blink, refocusing his attention for long moments. "Beg pardon?"

"Where's your head at, I mean. It's not here, in the game, that's for sure. I've taken most of your pieces and you're not playing this game. Whatever it is you're thinking about, it's not here, or now."

A small smile crossed the elezen's features. "I'm not. I'm trying to decide what to do for the next few holidays around here. The orphans will help, of course, but there's always much to do if we have an event, and the dragonets are almost as much hindrance as help." Picking up his queen, he moved the chess piece with a single decisive stroke, examining the board.

"Though I think you'll find yourself in checkmate, youngster. Not all of us need to be giving something our full attention to think a few moves ahead."

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FFXIV Write 2024 - Day 18 - Hackneyed

Auberi straightened, slowly, eyes flicking over the assortment of quote unquote business people arrayed before him. Mostly they were whiners, generational wealth who'd never had to earn a gil or lift an onze a day in their lives. A few had slightly more grit, had brought themselves up from the lower echelons of society to be something more. Overall though, they were barely worth his notice and he wasn't precisely sure why he'd bothered to allow them on his calendar. An oversight brought about by throwing himself into work rather than thinking about other things. One of them shuffled forward, obviously intent on speaking. Auberi lifted a hand, cutting the gentleman off with a gesture. His voice held every lick of the cold disdain he felt and every malm between the jewel of the desert and his proper home.

"Spare me your histrionics, your hackneyed platitudes, and your empty condolences. You've learned a little bit of street gossip and here you all are, circling like vultures. No, that's a disservice to vultures. At least the vilekin clean up the dead and serve a purpose. Ghouls, more like. Ghasts and wights here to leech life. There is nothing for you here. My family remains well, hale, and hearty. You may take your leave, having finished your drinks. You'll find what little hospitality I have stretches only that far."

After the last player left, he stepped out onto the balcony, staring out at the setting sun, watching the way it sank into the water. What had possessed him to agree to this meeting here, on a small island in the middle of no where? Why now, when so much needed his attention at home? A small laugh, taking a sip of his own drink.

His excuses were as threadbare as the company, it seemed.

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FFXIV Write 2024 - Day 17 - Sally

For some reason, Blink 182's "I miss you" is all that I could think of with today's prompt, so there are several lines inspired by or quoting the lyrics there-of included. Hope you enjoy.

Asti could hear them, of course. It simply wouldn't do to show that, though. The hushed whispers, the insinuations, the oh so clever darts and slings and arrows. Oh, they were all heard. Understood. And carefully catalogued away for another day. 'Nightmare' and 'Angel' were a few of favorites, especially back to back. They didn't know anything, did they? Whispering and worrying about what a single scion of the house thought, when the world itself was poised on the brink of conflagration. As though what they wore today mattered when tomorrow the whole thing might crumble to dust or be ground under the heavy tread of the Garlean magitek. It was all so shallow and vapid and Asti exhaled a soft breath across the surface of the tea currently hovering, waiting to be sipped, relaxing fingers that clutched porcelain just a fraction to tight. And waited, because soon, soon the whole reason they had come out to this silly little tea house would arrive and then things could happen.

And there she was, a vision in absolutely proper dress, pristine white gloves, corset laced just so to the right degree of cinching of her waist. Asti sighed, softly, and expected one or two of the ladies in attendance might have as well, perhaps even for the same reason as Asti did. If Ochelle noticed the attention, she gave no indication, simply sought Asti's gaze out and smiled, that warm smile that would brighten even a spring morning. Asti couldn't help the return smile any more than rising from seated to bow and pull out a chair for Elle could be helped. Making sure they were comfortable and had tea before resuming their own seat, Asti waited until Elle had had a sip and a nibble of biscuit, as was only proper, before speaking.

"Come with us." A small smile, acknowledgement that it wasn't the most compelling argument. "Live away from all this, like Jack and Sally, with me." It had to be attempted, even as Elle's small head shake started. Asti had known from the start that this was the end, really. No matter how much longing for it to be different they both had, Ochelle's family was to important to her to gamble on the venture planned by Asti and their siblings. Even as that perfect mouth opened, Asti held up a hand.

"Don't, Elle. Don't waste your time. You're already the voice inside my head. I know the thousand reasons why this is the worst idea in a long life of terrible ideas. Just… pretend for a moment you considered it."

Elle smiled, softly, as she did everything, taking a small sip of tea. "You know that story doesn't exactly have a happy ending, Tish." She smiled, and even though there was sorrow in it, Asti smiled back, ignoring the chewing sensation in the pit of their belly. It had always been going to end. At least they could part this way as friends.

And if Asti never made it back from the war, well. Elle would be taken care of, and know that Asti had loved her enough to try. It was the closest thing to forever they had to give.

[chidorisjournal]

FFXIV Write 2024 - Day 16 - Third-rate

"I don't need a bodyguard!"

Lucia winced as the shout came through the walls, busying herself with shuffling paperwork. She'd just decided to count down from three, hadn't even made it to actually counting, before the rejoinder, no less strident for all it was decibels softer than the original. It never ceased to amaze her that either of the men in the room had the ability to shout through stone walls. Or that they seemed not to realize each was the only one they ever shouted at.

"Obviously you do. Look at yourself. You've done at best a third-rate job of keeping yourself hale. And that's just what can be seen. What lies underneath that armor?"

A question Lucia and half the ladies of Ishgard wouldn't mind the answer too. One she thought perhaps the Lord Commander wouldn't mind answering for himself, if the Azure Dragoon weren't so prone to jumping out of windows at the first provocation. Third-rate at self care, but absolutely top-tier when it came to avoiding conversations that took the slightest hint toward uncomfortable.

Which was why Lucia picked up her paperwork again, pretending for all she was worth to be studying it, so that when a blur of angry blue robes and decorative armor sallied past she could at least pretend to be startled before standing and falling in behind him as he strode off.

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FFXIV Write 2024 - Day 15 - Liminal (you pick!)

Fenris waited, impatiently, perhaps, but he waited, his fingers resting on Hel's. Before him the broad back of his older brother and the fractionally less broad back of Asti, who had chosen tonight to wear a suit in a grey a few shades lighter than Auberi's charcoal. Ever the interstitial, Asti, tonight they leaned into the male side of the space, but tomorrow they might wear a dress and drink tea with Hel. It didn't matter. The clock was striking, it's soft cuckoo calling the hour, the liminal time between sunset and full night.

The doors were opened, flooding the room with the soft light of the sinking sun, a warm bath of scented autumn wind swirling around the four of them as their names were called. Auberi and Asti, Fenris and Hel, twinned twins, the pair of pairs. Together, as always, heading down the open stairs toward the dance floor where it had been laid out on the lawn. They always arrived together like this. In the moment between day and night, the hour between early and late. Never loud, never brash, the four of them together always caused a ripple, and even now he could watch it spread. Whispers about Asti's suit, about the single white flower pinned to Auberi's coat, about his own coat, and Hel's dress. Always, the whispers, the rumors, the subliminal sense that ever word was about them. It was why the siblings arrived together; as one unit the ripples would spread, rebound, and then fade when something new arrived. Individually they would be four rocks into the unquiet waters of society, and the way the ripples moved would only feed on one another, sharks scenting blood.

Tonight was no different, the soft susurrus subsiding before they even made it all the way down the stairs. Hel was stunning in cloth of stars, Auberi approached by his fiancee, Asti played court to suitors that were unphased by their current mien. And so the party slid from that earliest stage of uncertainty into exactly what all such parties became, and Fenris slid off to find the drinks. Perhaps they would have something stronger than lemonade, for once.

He wasn't going to count on it, but he could dream in these moments before the bevy of waiting debutantes descended upon him. With Auberi off the market, the second son would simply have to do.

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FFXIV Write 2024 - Day 14 - Telling

It would be turns before the first lines began to crease his face. Before age and time slowed his reflexes or silenced his awareness of the room around him. So it was telling that the woman resting against his chest created her own blind spot. She could sneak up on him, could settle her cheek against his back, and startle him from whatever silence and introspection he'd been engaged in. He'd never had someone he was so comfortable with that they felt like an extension of him. Even his partner in the Corps, someone he worked and breathed with for weeks on months on end had never been so integral to his own thoughts.

Gently he ran his hand over her hair, brushing it back, rewarded with a soft noise as she adjusted against him. She'd fallen asleep while he was reading a story to her, and he was loathe to move them. Instead, he let his fingers slip over the glossy black hair again, stretching his legs out a little more comfortably, and looked around the warm, comfortable room. He knew she'd redecorated it for him, the soft stretches and green grass and little waterfall meant to remind him of the Woods he spent more time in than out of. Even the warm wooden flooring and open walls were meant to feel welcoming. It worked, though he expected that was half again as much the company as the decor.

Perhaps he wasn't the only one who found himself more than a little smitten.

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FFXIV Write 2024 - Day 13 - Butte

Zayaa leaned hard against the rocky surface, feeling the wind pluck at her coat, pull and tug and all but yank her from the vertical surface she clung to. Her tail wrapped tighter around her as the wind continued to howl, and she pulled back her left foot, lifting in a scarce few ilms before slamming it hard back into the ice and rock. Feeling the bite of the crampon, Zayaa lifted herself up, slightly, right foot following suit, prising free of it's former anchor, shaking a little to clear the debris, and then jamming into the side of the mesa. No. She'd been corrected, this was smaller than a mesa. It was a butte. Of course there was not one but two words for a chunk of steep isolated bits of mountain with sheered off tops, depending on size.

Why? Because even though words lied, even though they were over used and as useful as the wind even now plucking and chewing at her coat, there always needed to be -more- of them. Crinkling her nose, Zayaa lifted herself a little higher, letting her left hand feel around the cragged side of the mountain for ingress wide enough to cling to, pulling herself higher still. The herbs she needed were only found above the snow line, though any more, in Corethas, that really didn't mean much. Huffing out a breath, she reached, stretching a little, and caught the edge of the butte, pulling herself over. Here, on this windswept little table, she stared out, letting the wind play with hair and coat, and took in the panorama she'd worked so hard to see. For a moment.

There were still herbs to find and a climb back down to make before anyone noticed she was missing, after all.

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FFXIV Write 2024 - Day 12 - Quarry

quarry [noun] : a diamond-shaped pane of glass, stone, or tile

The air tasted of dust and grit, over a tang of iron and, well, spite, probably. Her head rang with the echoes of weaponry and gunfire, the ground around her some warped remnant of what might once have been marble, or tile. As it was it was covered in the shattered remnants of the stained glass tiles, the parquet flooring, the mosaics on the wall. A thousand quarry pieces, the inlaid iron that held them into patterns ragged skeletons holding up air now, shards and glitter ground underfoot.

She'd hear hell about it later, using the tip of her blade to force herself to her feet, but in this moment she could not care, smudging dirt and blood from her mouth before drawing down once more against the foe she'd been fighting for as long as anyone could remember. She could feel the heat of it, scorching, even as she drew the blade up and leveled it once more.

"Again."

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FFXIV Write 2024 - Day 11 - Surrogate

"There is sorrow in your Song, little one."

Trae smiled, shifting her weight to lean a bit more comfortably on the sun warmed rocks behind her, setting aside the small reed instrument she'd been accompanying herself with. The words were as much felt as heard, the large dragon settled around the rocky clearing taking up most of the space, their head settled close enough that the rumble of their voice made the rocks around her feet dance with the words. She appreciated that they spoke, though. The language of the Star was not natural, really, to the dragons, and she knew it took work for the Eldest to translate thought into the patterns that made sense in the flowing verbosity of the mortal races.

"We lost a friend recently, Grandfather." Trae inclined her head, slightly, amused at the snort she received for the term. "It was not a shock, really, they were of the age where time simply waiting in the wings to catch up with them. Still, there is sorrow in it."

The large dragon stretched a little, nodding slightly. "Such is the nature of the short-lived. They are breaths, beats, in the flow of time. There is no surrogate, though, for the love, the beauty, of their lives. They are so fierce in their brevity."

Trae nodded, humming softly, a little arpeggio of notes, even as she closed her eyes, thinking about the friend they'd lost. "I am glad though, that he felt the call of time, instead of sword or spear." She whispered, softly, shaking her hands out to get blood back into them. It was cold, this high in the mountains, and she had not dressed as warmly as she should have. Even with the heat soaking into her back from the mountain, she would have to cut this visit short.

As though sensing her discomfort, a single great wing shifted, moving to block a bit of the wind, and one long leg straightened, offering her the warmth of the great wyrm's body. She smiled, leaning against the scales, and sighed, closing her eyes. There was no substitute for this either, the calm peace of the Lair, the warmth of the sun, the soft echo of the Song.

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FFXIV Write 2024 - Day 10 - Stable

Estinien/Aymeric under the cut

"Tell me again why I'm doing this?"

Aymeric laughed, softly, returning Estinien's hands to their correct places, carefully straightening them out. "For a man who can leap off the top of spires and into the maw of beasts best left undisclosed, you're remarkably reticent." A wave of his hand and the music began again. Aymeric didn't look over at where Lucia leaned against the wall near the orchestration, simply kept his eyes on Estinien's as he counted the beat.

"I'm not reticent, Aym, I just. Don't see the point. I'm a weapon of war, not a courtier."

Aymeric sighed, then none to gently nudged Estinien's leather booted toe with one of his own, causing the Azure Dragoon to take a step. It wasn't as though the Commander was leading if he did that, right? Just causing the Dragoon to lead. "You're doing this because I refuse to field another ream of letters from disgruntled mamas after the next event. You'd think we'd had a stable's worth of chocobos through the dance floor, or that Haurchefaunt had let one of the flying ones do laps by the chandelier, with the way they railed and carried on. Apparently you stepped on ever eligible lady's toes at least thrice."

Estinien made a noise that sounded almost like a chocobo, admittedly one in pain verging on death, but sighed. Charcoal grey eyes met Aymeric's own, and for a long moment, the room was just them, this slow dance, the rough callous of spear and bow. Aymeric shifted, slightly, letting Estinien lead, and smiled, and for a moment, that was all there was. Just a shepherd turned dragoon and an illegitimate son turned Lord Commander who had left all of that somewhere else to stare at one another across scant ilms of space. Moments turned to breaths, turning and swirling through the steps of a court dance, lost in time and the slow music.

Then Estinien's hands dropped away, and he was gone, leaving Aymeric with the eddies of his scent, the warmth where his hand had rested at the small of his back, and none to steady on his feet.

Lucia knew better than to comment.

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FFXIV Write 2024 - Day 9 - Lend an Ear

The world was mostly silent, still, the edges muddled beyond easy reach. Floating as bubbles rose to the surface and then stopped, Chidori let the soft pressure of the water around her soothe, soaking in the weightless ease of it. There was something intrinsically tranquil about the water, even though the salinity was wrong and as a consequent her buoyancy was all off. Still, she floated under the surface, hair streaming out in soft waves, stirred by the currents of her initial entry and the back ripples from the sides, as well as the little eddies made by the passage of the denizens of this particular pond. For long, long moments all was peace, calm.

And then a hand broke the surface, reaching down, finding her shoulder and pulling her back, up, above the surface. Back into the light and the noise. Always so much noise in the air. Had there been this much noise in the under-bubble of home? She didn't remember it, but then, it had been a long time since she'd really been back to Sui, maybe this was those rose-colored-lenses she had been warned about. It took most of her will not to wince at the onrush of clangor against her senses. Light, sound, scent. No longer muddled by the water. A small sigh she could not help escaped her even as she regarded her would be rescuer with a look that melted into a small smile. She couldn't be angry with him, not really.

"Thou… thou wert not in any danger, wert thou?"

Chidori felt her smile broaden even as she shook her head, paddling over to the edge of the pond to kneel on the lowest of the broad tiers that acted as steps into the water near to where he stood, drenched, after having waded in to fish her out. Carefully wringing out her hair, she regarded Urianger for long moments before speaking. "No. I would have been fine. I was looking for … silence." A soft sigh she couldn't quiet muffle escaped her, even as Urianger settled himself on the wooden steps that lead into the water, looking out beyond where she sat, deeper on the steps.

"If aught troubles, I would fain lend an ear."

"I know. It's less a trouble and more there's just so much. Sometimes the surface is so clangorous. So deafening, with every little thing piercing the heavens with it's cries and it's scent and." She sighed, again, and looked up at the sky, watching the birds soaring overhead. "I would not trade the views, but sometimes I wish for the gentle tides of home."

The hand on her shoulder this time was gentle, almost barely there, and she could feel that her companion was also watching the aerial display. "Tis truth, and perhaps we find ourselves overdue a quiet vacation."

[chidorisjournal]

FFXIV Write 2024 - Day 8 - Ballroom (Extra Credit/You Pick)

Every hunt had a strategy. When one hunted boar, one used long spears and baited the animal into charges that kept one well away from tusk and horn. When the hart was on the lists, queued for the eventual plate, fine bows and chocobos bred for the chase were favored, giving the huntsparty agility and speed to match their quarry. When circumstance required the pursuit of fox or wolf that had become overt in it's plunder of karakul or hen house, well trained courser canids were used to track the scent and bring swift resolution and a return to balance. Yes. All things had their gambit, each aim suited to the target sought.

Tonight was no different, thought the field of battle offered no rolling plain nor forested glen. No, the wood here was well varnished, layers and layers of citrus oil and beeswax buffed to a brilliant shine, the smooth sanded boards below fair gleaming with careful craftsmanship and brilliant display of their natural grain. Each side had it's own contrivance, it's own patterns and counter stratagems. The only group not a part of the whorl and spin of the hunt tonight, truly, was the orchestra, and they were only excused from the organized chaos because most of them had to sit to play. Really, at that point they were… fish in a barrel? Hardly sporting.

So tonight the organza and silk, chiffon and satin rustled, the dresses flocking and swirling like schooling fish against the wood grained water of the dance floor. Here and there a diamond or ruby within the scattered gemstones of the event, though the spread of brilliant options was hardly wanting in brilliance even if one were not to focus on those of the first water. Slippered feet sighed and shuffled and generally tried to avoid being trod upon by the more heavy gaited of the darker frocked set. For their part, the suits paid gallant attention to those they thought were within the reach of their combined pocket, title, and current social standing. A cotillion all it's own, beyond the delicate partnered steps measured to the music. Interwoven were, of course, the servants, a few of the prettier here and there catching an eye, coaxed away from duties for a dalliance, perhaps. Or more. It would never be spoken of, after all. It was simply another chord in the song. An arrow in the quiver of the hunt.

It was a hunt, after all. For pleasure, for profit, for permanence.

And it was all so very tedious.

Fenris tried, mostly, to stifle his yawn, watching the ebb and flow of befrocked and besuited party goers as they drank the lemonade and punch provided, or the slightly stronger drinks held by those deemed capable of holding such spirits. As they nibbled aperitifs and little delicate foods from all over the star and made all the appropriate noises about how luxurious the party was. Somewhere in the crowd, his elder brother danced with the lass who'd caught his eye, and the other eligible misses sighed behind their fans. Somewhere else, Auberi's twin continued to make waves, wearing a suit and refusing the position society kept trying to shoehorn them into. Hel sat nearby his current balcony perch, half buried in a book. They were, of course, invited to the soiree, but neither of them had seen anything worth attending. At sixteen, Fenris was far more interested in short term companionship, and his twin found herself far more interested in anything but companionship.

So they watched the pastel and bolder silk dresses and occasionally commented about the fashion choices while they nibbled on plates Cook had made for them, especially, knowing Hel's preferences and Fen's tastes. Most nights, anyway. Tonight, Fenris was itchy, longing for something more, something else, something. Some… one.

There. In a dress the color of a new hatched chocobo from the royal stables, standing tall and proud. She was half lost in her older sibling's shadow, and yet. Fenris watched for several long moments as the young lady chatted with her mother and another, a gentleman about his age. And then he excused himself from Hel's side, for perhaps one of the first times in their lives, drawn across the dance floor as though hypnotized. Given his stature, his eyes, the cuff links, no introduction was needed, and yet he offered it, bowing over the wallflower's hand with all of the courtesy and rigor that had been taught to him since birth.

"At your service, Miss."

[chidorisjournal]

FFXIV Write 2024 - Day 7 - Morsel

It happened, sometimes. After the breakfast or lunch rush, usually, Stix found himself surrounded by the detritus of the day. The Brew would hold those faintest of echoes, carrying the freight of so many customers, in for a chat, in for a snack, in for a meal. The orchestration, on it's timer, would wind down into soft string music, the sort he preferred while he did clean up. The soft clatter of dishes, the warm yeasty smell of fresh bread rising and baking in the back. Plates that needed to be collected and washed out front, scraped clean of the scraps and crumbs any might have left behind. Thankfully, it was rare that anyone left more than a bite or two; most of his customers came in looking for exactly what they wanted, and while he did, occasionally try out new recipes from various parts of the Star, even those were tempered to meet Ishgardian expectations and well received.

Today was hardly different. Oh, there were still a few customers spattered about the shop, a pair of younger nobility taking advantage of the nominal chaperoning of the coffee house to play chess and chatter and hold hands. Two older customers enjoying tea that they didn't have to make or have made by fussy hands. A small smile curved his lips as he glanced past them to where his current curiosity settled. She couldn't have been much past her majority, barely a slip of a girl, more morsel than mountain, and yet she had presence. She'd ordered a hot cocoa with the cool assurance of someone who knew exactly what she wanted, what it would cost, and had taken it back to his favorite chair, pulling one of the books from the shelves with an assurance that seemed misplaced, given that Stix was passing sure he'd never made the young lady's acquaintance. Yet she felt familiar in a way that warmed his heart.

Perhaps she was a distant cousin of one of his family, or family to one of the few he'd seemingly adopted. It was more than possible. She had the calm seriousness he attributed to his auri friends, the serenity of Trae or Val. Taking a slow sip of his own tea, he continued to watch the room with the quiet assurance of someone at home in a space he'd crafted to be perfect.

Down to the last bite.

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FFXIV Write 2024 - Day 6 - Halcyon

Took some inspiration from the original Halcyon myth. It was fun to convert it to FFXIV.

Trae stretched, feeling the slight overabundance of heat against her skin that meant she needed to move, even as she was loathe to do so. Long, sun soaked days, where the snow was almost golden in the light and the wind was, well, as gentle as the winds were in Coerthas anymore, were a rarity anymore. She was loathe to move and break the spell, the soft reminder of a time before the calamity when more than trees carefully tended and magiked were green. And yet she also had no desire to need to see a healer because she'd burnt her nose. That had been an unpleasant afternoon. Grumbling, softly, she shifted, sitting up from the hanging swing she'd been more than half asleep on, setting the book that had been covering her face aside.

This must have been some sort of signal, as she found herself suddenly surrounded by the littles. Orphans from across the cobbled street and dragonets from where ever it was they spent their evenings. Trae suspected Ehll Tou had a nest somewhere she hadn't bothered to inform anyone of, given the number of younglings that seemed to just conveniently show up at the Brew for snacks, stories, and 'socialization' that involved learning crafts and cooking and other mortal foibles. Not that any of the dragonets would call it that. No, it was all just fun and games. Still, their piping voices and play with the orphaned children of Dangoulin's Devotion benefited both sides, and taught each group both patience and the intelligence and creativity of the other. If nothing else, she thought, even as they begged her for a story, this generation would be less likely to fall prey to the manipulations and outright lies of the long war. Dragons, Trae mused, even as she carefully set her book aside and started to think through her litany of stories, had long tails and longer memories. Hopefully the mortals could keep up their side of the bargain this time.

The soft scent of coffee nearby told her she had one extra audience member, curving her lips in a soft, secret smile, even though she did not look away from the children before her to greet the tall shop owner. His presence, though, changed her story choice. Humming, softly, she beckoned two of the dragonets a little closer, tapping her toes until they picked up the beat. Dragons were creatures of aether and song, and it was barely an effort for the claws to pick up the rythmn her feet were tapping out. A few of the children caught on, clapping along, with varying success, and yet Trae smiled anyway. Somewhere, she hoped, Shiva was watching and smiling too.

Humming a few notes, she was delighted to hear the dragonets not keeping the beat pick up both a soft bass line and low harmonic, the bones of the song fleshing out quickly as the various groups figured out how they were supposed to work together. Once the start of the song had settled into a self sustaining cycle, she started her story, told in the old way.

"In the time before there was time, Before the warm wakening of spring Before summer's halcyon afternoons Before autumn's color riot and fae rings.

When Oschon's mountains rose and fell, Thaliak's rivers ran reckless as colts in sunlight Llymlaen's seas devoured whole places still unnamed And the glitter of Nymeia's stars spun brillant night."

A dragonet, recognixing the song, piped up, adding it's voice, a trilling soprano against her lower contra-alto, and they continued, the history of the star, though the smaller voice fell away as the story turned to the creation myth she'd been intending to tell. Still, she smiled at the youngster, nodding her encouragement.

"and so, Oschon, who masters the cold wind, saw the mourning, the depth of grief from Alcyone, and whispered to his own beloved, his own forever parted, Llymlaen, whose depths caught the pair in their misfortune

and thus was born the Halcyon, the bird who dives and swims who flies free, he who sings to his mate, she who lets him chase and the days when they are safest, when Oschon stills the winds and Llymlaen's oceans rest to keep the lovers safe."

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FFXIV Write 2024 - Day 5 - Stamp

(yes, it's an old screenshot)

Lost the meaning, somewhere in the ages Carved out the beating and the bleeding until there was nothing in the cage just sinew and bone around the imprint of feelings

Wallowing here in the sand at the bottom of the hourglass Lost and alone among the grains that have trickled down Moments, bells, days, wasted, never to be reclaimed Stamped out, marked return to sender, rescinded, gone

Lost here in my own misery

Until you found me. Inverted everything I knew Reminded me that life wasn't over as long as I believed.

And I reach up for that breath of you, the brand of your fingers on my soul the stamp of your lips on my heart as gravity forgets me in the spin.

I've lost my way, and the only map left is you.

[chidorisjournal]

FFXIV Write 2024 - Day 4 - Reticent

Soft sounds filled the manor. Little chinks of porcelain as teacups met saucers, the hushed undercurrent of voices pitched low as to not disturb other conversations around them, the soft whisper of satin, lace, and silk as individuals moved and adjusted. All in all, the gathering was going well. Little clicks of needles as some of those in attendance worked on various crafts, the soft chords of a harpsichord from the conservatory down the hall.

Hel tilted her head, fractionally, listening to the song lilt it's way along. Asti, then, sat at the keys. Her older sibling spoke more with music these days, reticent to give voice to the hurts and doubts that plagued and bothered. The silences worried their brothers, but Hel simply waited, listening for any disharmony in the music itself. No, whatever troubled Asti would work it's way out in the way such things did, a splinter slowly pressed to the surface by the action of the body itself. Certainly one of the boys would think it better to cut away the skin layered over, to lay bare whatever sat beneath the surface, but neither of them had patience.

So instead Hel returned to her guests with a smile and her own reserved nature when in company. Shortly they would be joined by several of the season's eligible bachelors, including a suitor or two Father thought might suit. She certainly had enough to worry about! Though truly, when Asti was ready, Hel would make the time to speak. For now, she sat in the warmth of the summer sunlight, savoring the large receiving room and the presence of her peers without the overbearing males that might otherwise have been in attendance. Time enough for that. For now, the golden afternoon, motes of precious time, and a song on the air that questioned itself as much as Hel questioned what tomorrow might bring.