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elypiphoros · 4 months ago

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Weekend bump!

The Witch in Lavender

(tw: violence, strong language)

The bubbling creek, flowing forth unending, coursing through the land, and through her spirit, rejuvenating her, refreshing her. The earth she sat upon, ever steady, ever still, holding her physical form together through gently pressuring hands. The fire next to her, with dried wood crackling softly, dying in the night, but still keeping her warm in its final efforts. The wind, whispering through the trees, into her ears, gentle fingers playing with her hair and frills of her dress, giving her life and vigor.

Elysea meditated on the land, sitting on the creek bank, atop a waterfall in the Shroud. A regular practice for her these days, as it helped to speak to those which she felt she had her strongest connection: the spirits of the land. The meditations served to ground herself to nature again, and most of all, to help with her bleeding aether. She had good days, and bad days, and today had been the latter. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and exhaled. Soon, she felt herself numb to the world around her, and become light as a feather, as her mind sank to a state that was between sleep and awake. The blanket under her, the talons of the owlet perched on her bare shoulder, her hands in her lap, her old, agonizing scars, all physical pain, all faded to nothingness. Only her aether-pain remained.

The sounds of the waterfall, the wind, and the fire all muted, and were replaced by whispers that grew louder and louder. She sank deeper into this state, until she felt her mind and aether leave her body behind, though she stayed still. The whispers grew louder still. Their language she could not understand, but she focused on what she thought was the intent. She tried to project her own intent: she did not come to seek answers to any questions, she only wanted to know their will. She wished for help, if they could help her, and relieve her aether-pain again, at least for a time. Wordlessly, she projected her intent all around herself, to whatever spirits may be listening, offering to do whatever they willed in return for their help.

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An immediate reply came. In her dream-like state, she witnessed aetherial wind whip around her, engulf her own in a tight tornado of life energy. It was suffocating, as she felt herself squeezed by the entity’s power, compressing her own energy tighter and tighter. Leaving herself at the spirit’s mercy, she waited patiently and calmly. The pain was excruciating at first, but no worse than it felt on her bad days, she thought. Errant pieces of her drifting aether put back into place, one at a time, and held steady by the invisible hand of the spirit aiding her. Eventually, the pressure eased, leaving her feeling steady. No more pain. The bespirited wind now passed through her gently, like blue flecks of light pushing through a filter, leaving parts of itself behind within her. The sensation caused her to gasp for air, as she felt she could not breathe during the act, but the act was over as quickly. She felt her own aura now, steady, energized. She felt…herself again, if only for a while.

The viera projected thoughts of thanks to the spirit, but it did not leave. Instead, it began to pass by her in a steady gust, over her body, by her ears. Through the aetherial wind, she could hear a faint sound of a woman’s voice. A girl. She was…screaming, pleading. Another voice, that of a man’s, laughing. And…more men. Poachers. Hunters. The pain of a dying mother. The lament of its young one. She could not tell what the poachers were saying, but their intent was far from pure. The wind made this abundantly clear. She knew what her task was to be.

The veena pulled her state of mind out of its trance, and snapped her eyes open to the physical world again. Her physical sensations, her aches and pains, all returned to her. But her spirit felt renewed, energized. The Elementals had heeded her call. But she had been given an urgent task, one that must be done, as was their will. She stood swiftly, with the owlet fluttering off into the forest behind her in panicked flight. Throwing her cloak over her shoulders and clasping it, Elysea then tossed the hood over her head, folding her ears back underneath it. Her sword belt strapped on around her hip, her staff in hand. She kicked dirt over her dying fire, and left the rest of her effects on the ground as she darted into the thick forest of the Shroud, running against the wind that had brought the task to her.

Dashing toward her marks with the agility of a deer, leaping over logs and ducking under branches, dodging trees and rocks left and right, her nimble feet carried her over the underbrush with ease. She felt the wind turn directions, now pushing her forward and carrying her. Up a hill she leapt, her legs and the wind pushing her halfway up before she latched onto a sapling and pulled herself the rest of the way up, the wind causing loose dead leaves to fly about around her. At the crest of the hill, she knelt down, obscuring herself in the dying light of the evening sun amongst the dense foliage as the wind finally died down. This would provide her a good vantage point to observe what was happening in the valley below. What she saw lit an angry fire within her.

Three men, poachers. A wounded doe, laid between them, bleeding and hanging on for life. Not just any doe, but an albino doe, known to be an omen of good fortune when they appear. Not much further away, two of the poachers were cornering its fawn in a crevice, which was crying out for its mother. What was the third man doing? Where was the girl, whose voice she had heard screaming in her commune with the wind Elemental? She squinted, her eyesight betraying her. Elysea then saw movement, partially obscured by a tree, the arm and half of a face of a man. He was holding something…or someone? She heard the girl’s voice scream out again, before being muffled by a hand.

The viera’s ears did not betray her, however. “Fergit’ the little in’, ya welps! It’ll be more worth more when it’s bigger anyway. Give me a hand over here!” said the voice behind the tree, his voice echoing in the valley. He was obviously struggling with the girl, who was putting up the fiercest fight she could. She then heard him scream out in pain, and the man pushed the girl roughly onto the ground. The young Moon-Keeper girl cried out from the impact. Enough, Elysea thought to herself. She rose from her vantage point, and leapt down the side of the valley, gracefully sliding down the bottom of the hill before coming to a stop. The poachers, yalms away from her, heard her, and turned their attention from their victims to her. Good, she thought. Elysea squared up with them, clutching her rough-worked elm staff with both hands tightly and pulling it to her breast. Only her lips could be seen, the rest of her face obscured by her heavy hood and the weakening sunlight finding its way into the valley.

“By the will of the forest, I command you all to leave, now, and never return!” Elysea’s voice was loud and powerful, with a weight and volume that seemed almost supernatural. The hyur leader shook his hand where the miqo’te had bitten him, and then readied his dagger. The other two men, a large hyur and an elezen boy, readied their weapons as well, with the elezen glancing unassuredly at their leader. The miqo’te girl began to scramble away on her hands and knees, trying to find her lost staff in the dense and crunchy leaf carpet of the valley ground.

“Who the fuck er’ you?” the large hyur called out to Elysea, his voice unsteady with hesitation. She did not respond.

“Another tree ‘ugger comin’ to cry about some pelts, m’ sure. Get her, boys!” the leader shouted, as he turned his obsession back to the miqo’te. The large hyur charged at Elysea, an ax in hand and ready to strike. The elezen shakily nocked an arrow on his bow and took aim. The fawn, now free, trotted away to watch from a safe distance. Elysea spread her arms, letting out a small chant as the surrounding leaves began to float into the air and wisp around her in a violent tornado. Just as the archer let his arrow loose, and the axeman came within striking distance, Elysea extended her hand in the direction of the pair. The violent wind picked up from the ground, throwing the archer’s arrow off course, and pausing the axeman in his tracks, pushing him back and causing him to cover his face. The wind was so powerful that it reached the archer, with debris from the valley hitting him and cutting his face. The pair shouted out. The axeman lost his footing and fell over backwards, and scrambled to get back up. In the meantime, the miqo’te girl had found her staff, as Elysea’s wind had kicked up the leaves in the whole valley, revealing it to her. She grabbed it, but before she could stand, the poacher grabbed her from behind and lifted her to her feet.

As the wind dispersed, passing the pair of poachers and crashing into the fall wall of the valley, violently shaking the trees of the valley wall, the axeman stood back up, and the archer recovered an arrow from the ground, as his quiver had been spilled from the storm. “I’ll cut your fucking head off!” the axeman yelled as she readied his axe again. The archer nocked his arrow, his eyes full of fear and uncertainty as he looked at his raging companion. Their faces were battered and bleeding, with various cuts and bruises caused by her spell’s debris.

“I - I don’t know about this, boss! She seems quite powerful! M - maybe we should just leave!?” the young elezen shouted to his companion, with a voice that seemed too posh for the group he traveled with.

“Fuck that!” the axeman screamed, filled with rage, flexing his muscles in a show of machismo. Veins popped in his neck and head as he looked at the mysterious viera with an expression of pure rage. “Kill her!”

The viera’s face was calm, concentrated, her hand still outstretched. Just as they prepared to attack again, Elysea balled her hand into a fist and jerked her arm inward, to her side. As she did so, the gust of wind came back, this time from behind the pair, pushing them toward her. It came so violently that the elezen was knocked to the ground this time, and the large hyur was pushed toward her. He had been so blinded by rage that he was unaware of the incoming backlash, and stumbled forward clumsily. An opening. At that moment, Elysea broke her concentration on her spell, and moved toward the axeman, hooking the crook of her staff around his knee and yanking it hard into the air, sending him tumbling to the ground face-first. He rolled over to face her, teeth clenched in rage, but as he did, she swung the end of her elm staff as hard as she could against his jaw, cracking it and sending several of his teeth flying into the valley. The archer saw this, stood up, and ran toward the direction of the fawn and hid behind a tree, whimpering as he did so. Elysea then turned her attention to the leader, who was now holding the miqo’te girl from behind, his dagger to her neck. She was trembling, staff in hand, staring at Elysea.

“That’s enough, conjurer!” the leader shouted. “One wrong move, and yer sister’s blood will be on yer hands.” Elysea paused at the sight, but said nothing. The miqo’te girl quickly lifted her staff against the inside of his arm, and the two began to struggle as he attempted to keep the dagger at her throat. Immediately, Elysea started chanting again. Though only her lips were visible under the hood, a blue glow began to emanate from within. She held out her hand to the valley wall behind the struggling pair, to a precarious looking boulder. She clenched her fist, and a few large stones broke away from the boulder, coming together in a mass. Pulling her arm back, she sent the collection of heavy stones directly in the back of the leader. One struck the back of his head, knocking him out cold, causing him to crumple on top of the miqo’te girl. The panicked Moon Keeper scrambled to get away from him, and stood, staring at him for a moment in disbelief. She then looked to Elysea, who was now approaching her calmly.

“B…behind you!” the miqo’te shouted. Elysea paused. She had heard him before the girl had even noticed. The axeman, back on his feet and blood pouring from his broken mouth, swung his axe sideways at the viera. She nimbly ducked the blow and turned, jabbing him in the stomach with the end of her staff, but he managed to grab it. She let it go, and swiftly drew her sword from its scabbard, gripping the handle with both hands and squaring up with him. The axeman tossed her staff to the side and swung his weapon down at her, shouting in a rage. She danced around his vertical blow, slicing his right arm deeply with her own elegant maneuver. Somehow, this only seemed to further enrage him beyond normal human limits, and he unleashed furious strike after furious strike at her. His flurry of wild swings were met with graceful dodges and pokes and slices into his various openings. He swung his axe down at her one more time, and Elysea raised her sword to meet it, their weapons clashing with a loud clang that echoed between the valley walls. The wild poacher pushed her into a boulder at the bottom of the valley. Elysea was strong, but the man was stronger, as his axe blade slowly but surely inched toward her face. The man laughed maniacally as he bled from nearly every appendage at this point.

“I'm going to cut both of your heads off, you bitches!” he screamed through pants, blood misting from his mouth as he did so. The Moon Keeper, still trembling, clinched her staff, and began a chant. She lifted a few stones from the valley floor, and hurled them at his back, trying the same trick that the viera had done a moment ago. One of the pebbles hit him in the back of the head, but the huge man hardly noticed in his blind rage. The girl exhaled in disbelief. As the two interlocked fighters still strained against one another, she began to cast another spell. This time, a small spark of electricity formed at the end of her staff, and she pointed it at the man. The spark crackled through the air and landed upon his rear with a snap, lighting his pants on fire. The man yelped from this, pulling away from Elysea. The miqo’te whispered a small “Yes!” to herself and pumped her fist meekly.

The viera brought her powerful legs up and pushed the axeman as hard as she could, using the boulder at her back as leverage, sending him flying through the air and to the ground several yalms away. She dashed over and collected her staff as he regained his footing, and began to charge her again. Elysea quickly brought an open hand to her breast, the blue light from her hood glowing brightly again. She mumbled a quick spell, then held the palm of her hand out toward his face. In the palm of her hand was a small single point of light that grew into a white orb of holy energy. As she did so, a bright white light beamed from her hand. The force of the spell blew leaves and debris away from her, causing her dress and hair to fly about. The beam burned the man’s face and blinded him, filling his vision with nothing but whiteness and spots. He screamed as he dropped his axe and held his face in pain, stumbling forward a few more steps before falling to his knees. The flesh on his face was singed and red, as if he had just laid in the bright sun all day long, but in all of a split second. The miqo’te girl looked at the sight in shock. What spell had the viera just used, she wondered, her mind racing for an explanation. It wasn’t one that even the most experienced conjuration teachers in Gridania had demonstrated before.

Elysea stood tall over the man. His face and retinas burned by her holy light, covered in bleeding wounds, his rear end still smoking from the miqo’te’s well-placed, albeit amateur, lightning spell. He was defeated, grunting in pain and disbelief, now reaching around helpless for his axe. Elysea chanted one more spell, raising an open hand into the air. Rocks from under the soil of the valley quickly collected around the man’s boots and calves. The viera clenched her fist, and the rocks solidified around them, preventing him from moving or standing up, leaving him on his knees. She then left him to his fate, and glided over to the Moon Keeper again, who was now watching the mysterious viera in disbelief.

“Are you hurt?” the viera asked, her voice soft and motherly, as she sheathed her sword, holding the scabbard and shaft of her staff both with one hand. The blue light from behind her hood faded, and the viera exhaled softly as it did so, as if relieved. The miqo’te said nothing, her mouth open as she gazed upon her savior. She was so tall over her, in her lavender colored dress and white hooded cloak. Her lips looked soft and cared-for, her chin, the only part of her face she could clearly make out, was spotless except for some specks of blood and an old, faded scar. She could make out silvery blue hair falling out of the hood, which ended just below her collar bone. In this moment, the viera was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. “Wh - who…are you?” the miqo’te squeaked out, her eyes still full of amazement. The cloaked viera’s lips stretched into a small grin, and she opened her mouth to speak. But before she could, she saw the leader stand up in the distance behind the Moon Keeper. Through gritted teeth, he prepared a knife to throw it at the girl’s back.

“No!” Elysea shouted, as she shoved the girl out of the way. The hyur’s knife hurled through the air by Elysea, slicing her arm as she attempted to dodge it herself. She then returned by chanting and holding out her hand. The wind whipped up again into a small tornado under him, lifting the man into the air and pinning him to a tree as he shouted and struggled against it. The miqo’te girl gasped and watched, as Elysea approached the man slowly, continuing to hold her hand toward him, the pressure of the wind keeping him held tight against the bark. Debris and small stones pelted him. The blue glow from her hood started again as the wind tore at his clothes. She stopped in front of him, the wind parting around her and coming together at his chest. He shouted, but the roar of her spell partially drowned it out, and her cloak and dress wisped toward him in a dance of deep lavender. Her lips formed a frown as the blue glow became the brightest it had been so far, and wind and debris continued to tear at his clothes and flesh. He found it impossible to breathe, and felt like he might pass out soon.

“I told you all to leave.” she said, her voice calm and cold, though her lips betrayed her demeanor. “I warned you, as a guardian of this forest.” The wind whipped her hood back, releasing her hair and ears from their confinement. Silvery blue strands danced about violently, and her ears were laid back and steady from anger. Her eyes glowed a deep aetherial blue as they gazed upon him. Her brows were furrowed tight. As the man’s clothing and flesh was torn asunder, he began to pass out. Finally, a branch tore from the tree she had pinned him against, and she noticed, and abruptly stopped her spell. She began to pant from exertion, as the light faded from her eyes, and her hand dropped limply to her side. The man, now unconscious, his bleeding flesh exposed through large rips in his clothes all throughout his body, collapsed to the forest floor and slumped against the tree, defeated.

“They are still alive. Go, quickly, and inform the Wailers while I restrain them. I will aid the doe as well, don’t worry.” the viera said to the miqo’te girl without looking at her. Her gaze had not left the branch that she had broken off of the tree. She seemed to look at it with regret and remorse. The Keeper girl stared at the grisly sight of the man, hardly registering what the viera had said to her. “But…who…what is your name? Please…” The girl meeked out. The viera looked at her sharply, her eyes their natural, steely blue-gray. “I said go, now.” she said softly, but with gentle force. The miqo’te, realizing she would get no answers to her questions, nodded at her hesitantly, before jogging off into the woods, as the viera watched her.

Night had fallen. The young conjurer followed behind a group of Wood Wailers, their weapons and lanterns ready as they entered the valley. The scene was calm and quiet now. The mad axeman laid fully on the ground now, resting and tied, his wounds partially healed, his legs still encased in hardened earthen shackles. The other hyur and elezen were tied together at the broken tree, the leader with his head also tied up, the rope going between his teeth, preventing him from speaking coherently, and the unharmed elezen remaining silent, his head hanging in defeat. The Wailers quickly went into action in collecting the poachers. The miqo’te looked around for any sign of the viera that had saved her, but she was long gone. Curiously, the branch that had torn from the tree was now gone. As she looked into the distance, on the crest of the hill in the moonlight, she saw the fawn staring at her gratefully. From behind the crest, its mother stepped up and looked as well, before the two darted off out of sight. The miqo’te smiled to them and waved a goodbye, and dropped her staff to her side, relieved.

She heard the hoot of an owl in the tree just above her, and looked up to see. A small owlet watched her, bobbing slightly as it hooted at her again, and then took flight, careening up and over the wall of the valley through the trees. The smile did not leave her face as she watched it leave. How curious.

#ffxiv writing

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elypiphoros · 4 months ago

Text

The Witch in Lavender

(tw: violence, strong language)

(Click to continue reading!)

“Who the fuck er’ you?” the large hyur called out to Elysea, his voice unsteady with hesitation. She did not respond.

The gale passed the pair of poachers and crashed into the fall wall of the valley, violently shaking the trees of the valley wall, dispersing somewhat. The axeman stood back up, and the archer recovered an arrow from the ground, as his quiver had been spilled from the storm. “I’ll cut your fucking head off!” the axeman yelled as she readied his axe again. The archer nocked his arrow, his eyes full of fear and uncertainty as he looked at his raging companion. Their faces were battered and bleeding, with various cuts and bruises caused by her spell’s debris.

“They are still alive. Go, quickly, and inform the Wailers while I restrain them. I will aid the doe as well, don’t worry.” the viera said to the miqo’te girl, without looking at her.

The viera’s gaze lingered the branch that she had broken off of the tree. She seemed to look at it with regret and remorse. The Keeper girl stared at the grisly sight of the man in shock, hardly registering what the viera had said to her. “But…who…what is your name? Please…” The girl meeked out. The viera looked at her sharply, her eyes their natural, steely blue-gray.

“I said go, now.” she said softly, but with gentle force. The miqo’te, realizing she would get no answers to her questions, nodded at her hesitantly, before beginning to jog away into the woods. Before she got far, Elysea called to her once more.

“Hey.”

The girl stopped and looked back at her in confusion.

“Tell not a soul what you saw tonight, aye?” Elysea said, with a small grin and a wink.

#oc: elysea aster #elypiphoros lore #ffxiv roleplay

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