#;;about urianger: archon

[tallbluelady]

🎬

A scene of accomplishment and admiration...

[elizabethrobertajones]

If your WoL got an archon mark, where would it be but more importantly what was their thesis that earned it.

[scionshtola]

thinking about that shtola cul leve and i have always thought since she travels so much she has developed really good taste and isn’t picky but v appreciative of good food. so i think its extra satisfying to cori when they cook a meal that shtola really loves 😌

[minarcana]

i think my favourite thing about urianger in arr and early hvw is the writers have no goddamn idea what to do with him except for have him give u bad news so he regularly gets put in the "idk he is off screen" corner with tataru during major battle events and the like. and then later on he starts dropping random like "yeah btw i know spells from sharlayan archmages" "i can cast spell of kill u instantly if i feel like it tbh" "i can mask and glamour an entire goddamn building" which means in arr the scions rly did have a weirdly capable wizard standing around and he was just like "idk ill just go escort tataru to the city to hang out. have fun fighting bahamut or ultima or whatever. you want me to help? goodness no ive got books to translate."

[anneapocalypse]

Urianger and Moenbryda are clearly set up as polar opposites in so many ways--in personality and temperament, even in the simple fact of her being a tank and he being a caster/healer--but it's especially interesting to me that they're also opposites in their fields of study. Moenbryda is a scientist, Urianger a humanities guy--in modern real-world terms I'd say his specialization in prophecy with the way it's applied in-universe translates roughly to something in between Divinity and Classical Studies. While he no doubt has some general scientific education as I'd assume any Archon would, and he can read an aetherometer as all of them can, he is not a scientist. In fact I'd probably call him one of the least scientifically-minded of the surviving members of the Circle of Knowing. (And it's probably not a coincidence that he's also seemingly the most devout... but that's another post for another day. 😉)

Notably, while Louisoix mentored many of the Archons we know in various ways, Urianger is I think the only one who actually shared Louisoix's specific academic field. (Louisoix was considered Sharlayan's foremost expert on prophecy specifically, and it was his interpretations of prophetic texts that led him to take the Circle of Knowing to Eorzea.) While NPCs' combat classes tend to overshadow their academic fields somewhat in the game itself, it's plain from both Urianger and Moenbryda that this is not always a one-to-one correlation. With some, the two are plainly much more closely correlated, as with Thancred (though it's interesting to note that he was a gladiator and not a rogue in 1.0), and probably also Y'shtola. I am uncertain at this time what specifically Yda (the real Yda) studied, though it doesn't seem unreasonable to guess that her field might have been more tactically-oriented, not unlike Thancred. Papalymo, according to EE1, "indulges his passion by deciphering ancient spell tomes," which doesn't seem far removed from the study of thaumaturgy, though with a distinctly academic bent. His interest in ancient texts seems to me to place him closest to Louisoix and Urianger, and that's probably relevant when considering his moniker of "Louisoix's finest pupil."

Moenbryda's affinity for the axe is unrelated to her academic studies, and according to her dialogue, long preceded them. Urianger seems to have done some notable work in the field of arcanima, with his use of the unique amber carbuncle (though it seems this remains purely a personal accomplishment as no one else has ever been able to replicate his work, which is fascinating in its own right). This seems both secondary and largely unrelated to his work with prophecies, and indeed while he can hold his own when needed, until Shadowbringers it's a rare thing for him to actually take to the field with his companions--either for combat or direct observational research. When he does, it's noted as unusual, as in the 2.3 quest where Urianger actually ventures into the sylphlands to witness Ramuh firsthand, and is rather starry-eyed about it. "Never till this day had I looked upon his visage save in painted renderings, made faint by time..." Urianger's field of expertise is highly esoteric and highly theoretical, his beloved texts always several steps removed from the realities they attempt to describe.

And somehow, I don't think it's a coincidence that only one patch later, he's at last called upon Moenbryda to come join the Scions in Eorzea. Moenbryda the tank, Moenbryda the aetherologist. Moenbryda who is determined to join the Warrior of Light in confronting Shiva until Urianger begs her not to. Moenbryda who likes to be in the thick of things, to observe the world up close and personal. Moenbryda the scientist.

In that light, I can't help seeing something scientific even in the way Moenbryda went about befriending her, as she calls him, "excruciatingly stiff childhood friend": studying him, reading the books he read so as to better understand him. Direct observation.

And what does it say about Louisoix, I wonder, that it was the most scientifically-minded of his followers that he chose to leave behind? It's plain to see how Moenbryda's talents would have been invaluable to the Circle of Knowing in Eorzea. Urianger claims that Master Louisoix merely wanted Moenbryda to "discover her own path, free of the shadow of his influence." Long as I've contemplated that choice, I'm still not really sure what he meant. With so many students from varied backgrounds, why did she, of all of them, need to "discover her own path?" Urianger frames it in terms of Sharlayan politics: Louisoix made a pariah of himself in leaving Sharlayan for the salvation of Eorzea. Moenbryda was one of the few in his circle whom we know had living family in Sharlayan, so I think it is possible his concerns were at least in part for her personal ties. Yet I can't help wondering, also, if he felt some part of her temperament, her approach to learning, might be at odds with the way he meant to carry out his work in Eorzea.

Louisoix's decision, and Urianger's continued devotion to the man, certainly drove something of a wedge between two lifelong friends, but it seems plain to me that there was always a certain friction between them. Moenbryda herself says it was a wonder they got along, and I can only imagine the arguments, the misunderstandings, the dissonance in their ways of thinking over the years. Scientist and theologian, they had such fundamentally different approaches to the world, even as they still clearly cared for one another so deeply.

[keicordelle]

I feel like Urianger is the kind of person who doesn't really think about food. Like, he gets so busy with his nose in his books that he'll look up at midnight and realize it's been a day and a half since last he ate something. Can't be bothered to cook for himself, so long as it's got easy to eat and doesn't have a despicable texture, he's content to stuff it in his mouth without really thinking beyond that. Archon bread, my beloved.

Thancred, though. I think he knows food. He can get by on rations and stale bread, because of course he can, but that's all the more reason why he Does Not Understand why Urianger wouldn't go out of his way to make actually good food for himself when he's got ample opportunity? Like, he's got a fully furnished (but probably poorly stocked) kitchen 20 yalms away and he can't even be bothered to make himself a sandwich. He just eats the bread and the meat separately and goes back to his books.

So when they're staying together, Thancred takes charge of the cooking. Urianger just finds when he looks up from his study that there's a plate of veggies laid next to him. The table is set with curry and rice, and the smell is enough to drag even him from his hyperfixation. He wakes to the smell of bacon and pancakes every morning.

And slowly, instead of being a boring necessity, food becomes something... more. A thing of love.

[plounce]

WIP whenever!

thanks @anneapocalypse for the tag :~) your little snippet was extremely sweet and seasonal heheh

scraping through my memory and tagging @ostentenacity , @transgenderlestat , @faelithurgy , @nongunktional , @peepooworld , aaaaaaaand @lesbianmarrow . but only if you want to. AND @ecosystem-administrator i KNEW i was forgetting someone

i do have something that i'm finishing up that will be posted very soon, but this isn't that. it's an ancestor to jerkwol, but instead with generic meteor man being a more masc jerk than the mviera i eventually created for that line of thought. still bad news for thancred though. i wrote this in june 2023 and have not worked on it since. be free, abandoned wip!

(CWs for some drinking and a general sense of uneasiness and discomfort about a man. this was meant to be the start of a downhill slide to realizing your godkilling hero is actually a total douchebag)

It had started after Operation Archon. Perhaps not started - begun. It had begun then, even though he didn't know it yet.

There had been parties all over the place to celebrate the Garleans being driven from Eorzea, and the Waking Sands was no exception. The halls were bright and loud, ringing with drinking songs, excited conversation, and cheers for the man of the hour. Meteor had made his rounds through the crowd, handsome grin on his face as he received compliment after compliment. He shook hands, gave hugs, and was overall the very picture of a hero.

Thancred was doing his best to sketch a picture of who he usually was, but he knew he was failing. He just didn't have it in him. The joy pervading the room was only so infectious when one was recovering from being puppeted around by a villainous madman, and he had been nursing his first drink of the night - maybe the alcohol would soothe him and allow him to enjoy the festivities, but every time he went to down it, he remembered that night in that inn in east Thanalan, and he found himself nauseous.

For the majority of the evening, he'd stationed himself next to Urianger, the elezen's notoriously reclusive personality and unfashionable appearance enough to ward off most of those who sought to approach Thancred in an attempt to comfort him ("glad you're doing alright" he's not; "it's not your fault" it is). Urianger hated drinking with strangers, and could easily be prodded into rambling about any given book on the surrounding shelves. His low, steady voice was soothing, and trying to keep up with his vocabulary kept Thancred's mind occupied enough.

Minfilia was the center of the crowd, radiating warmth, light, and joy like the sun. He couldn't bear to speak with her. Not after he'd failed her yet again. She'd told him that she didn't blame him, that she was simply glad they'd managed to get him back, but her forgiveness (as ever) was too much for him to comprehend, much less accept.

The evening wore on. Urianger excused himself to take Louisoix's grandson to bed, and predictably took that as a way to escape the party himself. Thancred wished he could do the same, but his exhaustion was outweighed by the bone-deep need to keep Minfilia in sight when there was drink flowing in a packed room, and she didn't look like she was going to leave anytime soon.

"Quite a looker, isn't she?"

Thancred didn't jump (that had been trained out of him long ago), but he did tense. Meteor had somehow teleported from the other side of the room, holding two drinks.

At Thancred's silence, he added, "Minfilia, I mean." He nodded towards her.

Thancred swirled his own drink, watching the undoubtedly lukewarm liquid slosh in the mug. "Aye, she's grown up well." He'd dealt with this conversation before - other men who took his own philandering as permission to bawdily discuss Minfilia's looks with him. It ranged from uncomfortable to infuriating, and a few broken noses had come of it. He didn't know Meteor as well as some of the others did, and this had the potential to be a poor start to their working relationship, especially since Thancred already owed him an unpayable debt for saving him from Lahabrea.

Meteor looked at him consideringly for a long moment. Thancred shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. He lifted his drink to his mouth, and actually drained the mug. Old habits die hard.

As soon as he set the mug down on Urianger's worktable, he found another being crowded into his hand. "Er, sorry, but I–"

"I actually got this for you," Meteor said, nudging it into his palm until he gave up and took it. "You looked lonely over here, and having Urianger as company couldn't have made for the best party experience."

Thancred's eyes narrowed, but he made himself chuckle. "Well, when you've known him for as long as I have, you get used to him."

"If you say so," Meteor laughed, and took a swig of his drink. Thancred copied him. Maybe he would drink a little. Anything to make this conversation with his savior less awkward.

They continued to talk and drink – well, Meteor did most of the talking, sharing anecdotes from his journey up to this point, and chatting with people who stopped by to congratulate and thank him. Thancred mostly nodded and hummed, working on his drink. He'd planned to have that be his last one, but Meteor grabbed him another one, and it was decent ale tonight, and Thancred couldn't stand it when the others came by and joined them because he had nothing to add but his poor mood, so he drank to cover it up. It was fine. He knew his limits. He did. Maybe they weren't as good as he thought they were before all this, but he'd learned his lesson.

[autumnslance]

The Unsundered and Tempering

There's apparently some kinda post going around ruffling jimmies about the Ascians versus the Ancients, with extreme assumptions about a society we see precious little of ourselves in game and mostly get informed of by people still grieving it millennia later.

Most of them antagonists, that like many other antagonists and allies, folks seem to want to take at face value for a lot of what they say, while often ignoring what they do and how, while speaking.

This is something I have noticed among fandom and roleplayers for decades, so it's nothing new, but there's a lot of times the text of any situation is making it clear that even if a character isn't outright lying--even thinks they are being "honest"--that is not necessarily the case.

It also comes back to making sure one is using all the available information--goodness knows I've made a fool of myself before by missing scenes or text that did explain someone's position on lore and characters!

Regardless of how one feels about certain plot points, storylines, or characters, they all inform each other in canon. Different characters say different things at different times in different company. A scene from two expansions ago may inform a new patch cutscene. Actions may contradict words. It all works together.

For an example, since it's come up elsewhere, I've had doubts about how Tempered the Unsundered were from the moment Emet-Selch claimed it, due to one of the last scenes in ARR, cutscene #5 in "Before the Dawn" where we see Lahabrea and Elidibus speak just before Urianger arrives in response to the Emissary's request for a meeting:

Lahabrea: The earth is fertile, and the seeds well sown. By my will, they shall reap salvation unlike any the world has known. Elidibus: By His will. Lahabrea: …By His will.

The Ascians in ARR and HW spend a lot of time telling the WoL about their One True God. Here though, in a moment of privacy before the Archon's arrival, Elidibus has to remind Lahabrea to check his ego as his actions are for Zodiark, not himself.

This is an early indication, alongside Nabriales's actions in the previous patch quests, that not everyone's on the same page in regards to the Ascian agenda. Nor is Zodiark's hold on each red mask absolute--even the ones initially at His summoning.

EDIT: Not to mention Fandaniel's actions in their entirety in Shadowbringers and Endwalker; killing one's god to usher in the end of the world is not the act of a tempered man!

Further doubt is placed on Emet-Selch's claim by Tiamat. We get more of her situation in the Shadowbringers patches, in the "Righteous Indignation" cutscene:

Tiamat: Recall, mortals, that it was I who did first summon my beloved, praying with all my being to bring him forth. You who contend with eikons cannot well be ignorant of the consequence. Alphinaud: …You too were exposed to his influence. That you are yet in possession of your own will is testament to the indomitable strength of your soul. Alphinaud: But were you to meet with Bahamut again, you fear you might succumb. Tiamat: Indeed. Ask the dragonslayer, and he will tell thee the power we of the first brood wield. Were I to lose myself to the eikon's influence, all would pay the price. Tiamat: But it is of little matter. For even had I the strength to resist, I yet lack the strength to break my shackles. This prison shall be my tomb. Alisaie: On the matter of Bahamut's influence, at least, I believe we can be of some assistance. Alisaie: If you're afraid of being enthralled, don't be─we have a cure. And while we've never tried it on one such as you, its basic principles are universal. Tiamat: Speakest thou in earnest? Alphinaud: There is no future for those bound to the past. Alphinaud: That you committed a terrible sin, I do not dispute. But if you feel remorse, you may yet make amends. We offer you that chance. Take it, or you will forever remain a prisoner, not of these cruel shackles, but of your own guilt. Tiamat: A chance to make amends… To lay Bahamut's memory to rest… Tiamat: When our own star faced annihilation, Hydaelyn granted us sanctuary. And now your foes would bring about Her destruction. This I cannot allow. For the debt I owe to Hydaelyn, and to all who have suffered for my sins…I shall fight with you, children of man.

Tiamat is a victim of the purposefully corrupted summoning magic the Ascians distributed. Yet she is not entirely enthralled by the Bahamut she summoned; she fears she would be if she were exposed further to a primal. Tiamat, as a Great Wyrm of the First Brood, is more akin in her aetheric composition to the Unsundered than most others on Hydaelyn. She knows she is influenced by the primal she summoned, and part of her remaining bound is to protect herself and the world from that consequence.

And then she chooses the cure and to move forward with her life, when given the option. As do other enthralled figures among the tribes when granted the option.

While there wasn't yet a cure when still fighting the Unsundered, entreaties to end their crusade and move forward fell on deaf ears--but I doubt very much it was due to Zodiark's influence entirely, and more their own stubborness after having clung to this course for ages.

The first cutscene of "Unto the Heavens" in Endwalker presents finally the intersection of original creation magic and modern summoning, as preparations are made to board the Ragnarok:

Livingway: You've done a fine job of readying the Ragnarok, but for it to take flight, we'll of course need the power of the Mothercrystal. Livingway: Given its immense size, however, transporting it would be an absolute logistical nightmare. Not to mention we'd need to shatter it into tiny shards for feeding to the engines. Livingway: But a brilliant idea came to me: we convert the crystal's energy into forms that can transport themselves! Urianger: Thou wouldst employ summoning…or should I say its precursor─creation magicks. Thancred: Care to explain for our benefit? Urianger: As you may have witnessed at Bestways Burrow, the Loporrits are capable of creation magicks, which they use to shape the moon's environment. Urianger: Yet simple though they make it seem, 'tis a highly advanced and exacting art. To perform it correctly requireth that the wielder holdeth the object in his mind's eye in clearest detail. Alphinaud: Hence the ancients' meticulous management of concepts. Urianger: Drawing upon this art, the Ascians conceived of summoning as we know it. Urianger: A derivative that replaceth the complexity of concepts with the simplicity of zealotry to make manifest a creation. Y'shtola: I see… By combining the Loporrits' magicks and the tribes' faith, we convert the Mothercrystal into primals of purer form and greater obedience. Y'shtola: Summoning as it was intended, one might say. Livingway: Indeed, indeed! Livingway: While Hydaelyn gave us the ability to use creation magicks, She forbade us from using it to make anything possessed of a soul─or similar. Livingway: She didn't say anything about fulfilling the desires of others, though. So! Borrowing our friends' faith, we'll create deities using the Mothercrystal's power, and send them to the Ragnarok! Alisaie: Am I the only one here concerned about the risk of being turned into a tempered minion? Livingway: Oh, right, I was getting to that… From what I've read in Sharlayan tomes, it appears the Ascians incorporated an additional nasty element into their summoning method: the fervent desire to assimilate others into one's belief. Livingway: Beings thus created are instilled with the selfsame desire, and use their powers to enthrall people─starting with the summoner. Livingway: In contrast, our creation magicks─the original and the best, accept no substitutes─don't incorporate any of that rubbish, so there's no risk of tempering. I mean, if the being was on the scale of Zodiark, you might feel a little “tug”…but I think we'll be safe enough.

From what we get here, summoning is quite obviously an offshoot of the original creation energies of the Ancients, but twisted by the thinness of the sundered mortals' aether and using faith and collected aether as a substitute. The tempering part was a later, intentional addition, possibly after the Unsundered had opportunity to examine the effect of Zodiark's summoning on themselves and extrapolating that.

Now, is some of this likely retconning to explain discrepancies in how characters acted and how tempering has been used? Probably! There was supposedly a rewrite of the main Ascian/Hydaelyn/Zodiark storyline, inherited from 1.0, which Stormblood allowed the time and consideration going forward on how they wanted to resolve this long arc. There's a lot in ARR and HW that has been recontextualized to fit, though some things still stand out a bit oddly; they did as good a job as they could, especially given the many years and writers involved.

But from the more recent writings, the intention is not to excuse the Unsundereds' actions with "they were tempered." And the final proof comes from Emet-Selch in Ultima Thule in cutscene #4 of "You Are Not Alone", having been through the preliminary wash cycle of the Lifestream long enough to have had various enchantments removed from him, while yet retaining his self before that too is washed out before reincarnation:

Alisaie: You're leaving!? Emet-Selch: Of course. The encore is finished, and I will not suffer myself to live again by Hydaelyn's magick. Emet-Selch: But more than that, the future you seek is not the past we loved. That is why we fought. And why I lost. Emet-Selch: But though you defeated me, my ideals are inviolate. Invincible. Emet-Selch: Spare me your pity. I have no use for it. If you would do something for me─save our star. Emet-Selch: See this tale to a triumphant conclusion, and with elation in your hearts, bid the final curtain fall. Emet-Selch: Only then may it rise again and a new tale begin─with new parts for all to play.

Through Shadowbringers, Emet-Selch claimed to want to cooperate with the Scions, while only giving bits and pieces of carefully considered information, and moving the goal posts whenever they did prove to him they were able to pass his tests and meet his expectations. It is not until this moment where, his duty to fight finished and the fate of his beloved world in any form at stake, that he is truly honest about what he did and why.

(I may also have an analysis WIP about comparing him and The Sandman's Morpheus and that stubborn refusal to change his mind and ideals, but it's slow going)

So while we mostly do have to go by what characters say, directly to WoL or to other characters in other scenes, each conversation cannot be taken in a vacuum; it is taken into account with their other conversations, with their actions, with other characters' input. And sometimes, the writers change direction, and new information will overwrite the old, even as it builds off of it.

The game is not consistent about Tempering and Summoning, though the double acts of Shadowbringers and Endwalker's story tries to clean that up. I just seriously doubt, from all the evidence, that the Unsundered were as entirely under Zodiark's thumb as say, one of Ifrit's over-hammered thralls and therefore not responsible for their choice and actions, the plans they made and came up with and clung to in stubborn guilt and grief and rage for so long they couldn't do anything else, even when presented proof of other options and chances to change or move forward.

Because another thing ShB and EW have shown us in both MSQ and in the Pandaemonium storyline, is who these men were, to become the Ascians we know, and how their own beliefs shaped them individually when faced with such loss--and how in each case, those past, pre-Zodiark selves would look at the eldritch beings they became by the Seventh era, and be horrified. Not because of any god's influence, but what they were capable of on their own.

...Well OK, Lahabrea already had a pretty good idea of what kind of monster he was capable of becoming. He also chose the worst way to handle it, and never seemed to learn from that. Elidibus and Emet-Selch though, while adamant in their beliefs, were also warped by what they chose to do and be, to where Elidibus even refused to remember his past to avoid the pain, tunneling into his duty with no wavering. Only Emet-Selch chose to remember, wallowing in it, acknowledging the monstrosity of his actions...and choosing to commit them anyway.

EDIT ADDITION: Relevant lore info directly from Banri Oda on Tempering and many other things.

[risualto]

"I just thought you'd like some company" for Inky and Thancred, please!

I don't honestly remember where the prompt list this came from even is on my blog at this point because it's been so long...and at the time you sent this, I thought it was going to be an Inky @ Thancred line of dialogue, or possibly a very early Thancred flirting with Inky before either of them were actually really friends and therefore being uncomfortable...

And then DT happened. And now we have this. It's short, but I think important.

It wasn't all that unusual for Thancred to wake up to find one or both of his lovers missing from their bed. Urianger was often called away at the strangest of times--either by a Lopporit needing support, or by their own impulses, to read, to clean, to perhaps attempt making breakfast once again in the hopes it would be edible this time. And Inky was the type who, once awake, could not get back to sleep for anything short of being knocked out. If she happened to open her eyes as the sun was rising, then that was when her day began, simply.

But the thing was, Thancred couldn't remember a day since they returned from the Golden City where Inky had been abed when he awoke to greet the morning. And even on nights where they managed to fall asleep together--in the same city, in the same place--his arms and the sheets greeted him with dead cold.

He sat up, gooseflesh rising on his arms and shoulders, and listened. There was a distant rattle of carriage wheels, and the ever-present whisper of the sea against Sharlayan's harbor. Someone lodging above them was walking about, floorboards creaking considerately as if the person knew enough to be light of foot and not quite enough to avoid the creaks entirely.

Thancred's chest felt so cold that he forgot about his own shivers until the arm across his thighs shifted enough for him to miss its warmth. He winced. Urianger hadn't been with them when they fell asleep, which meant he'd likely stolen precious few hours already. Thancred held very still, save for his slow breaths, and waited. A second, two. Several. Until Urianger relaxed once more, long fingers curling naturally around the swell of Thancred's hip, but not truly holding on. He resisted the urge to whisper to Urianger, or kiss his forehead, as he slunk from the bed, lest it undo his work and disturb his love, but the impulse remained. He hoped--prayed, almost, despite knowing there were no gods left to hear--that he'd have the opportunity to redirect those affections to Inky. That she hadn't vanished into thin air. Again.

It took longer than Thancred would have liked to climb to the roof, but having failed to find Inky on the balcony (or on the streets within sight of it), it was the best option. Her penchant for heights, at least, hadn't been dimmed since their return the way...

Well.

From behind, Thancred could see that she had stolen one of Urianger's cloaks to ward off the morning chill. Despite it being as dull in color as he feared she herself was becoming, the sight gave Thancred hope. That she was keeping at least one of them close to her had to whisper something good. Even if her utter lack of sound and the way her hair was swept into a single, haphazard knot, so that not even it moved in the sea breeze, cried very much the opposite.

He walked closer, taking care not to dampen his footsteps, and she did not look away from the horizon.

"A bit early to be freezing by yourself, isn't it?" he asked. His voice was low enough that he hoped it wouldn't startle her, since she was sitting quite close to an edge of the building which Thancred knew had no eaves on the way down.

Inky, still, flinched. She looked up and over her shoulder with dry, matte eyes, before blinking as if needing to remember herself. Thancred crouched, to spare her neck at least. "Perhaps I could persuade you to come back in and join us for breakfast? I promise it will be the finest room service, and not an onze of Archon loaf."

Inky's lips parted, then closed. Her face fell slack with a sigh, and even that was so quiet that Thancred strained to pick it out from the wind. "I'm not hungry," she said. He tried not to let his gaze flick to her cheekbones. "What are you doing up?"

"I just thought you'd like some company," said Thancred. "I can't imagine what's brought you up here rather than warm in bed with us, but isn't it true that the sunrise is sweeter if you've someone to share it with?" It was the type of line that never failed to make her blush. Straightforward and perhaps a cliche, but if spun from the thread of an honest wish to simply be close, that was enough to draw a smile. Perhaps a kiss, sometimes.

The twitch of her lips, now, looked more like she was fighting back tears. "I fear I came too early, then. Seems we've missed it," she said. "I'm sorry, but I must--"

Thancred looked away so sharply his neck cracked in protest. If Inky heard it, she pressed on as if she hadn't.

"--go. I have..." She waved a hand.

Carefully, as if trying to scoop a leaf from the fountains without it riding away or slipping through his fingers, Thancred reached out and caught her hand in his own. Her fingers were ice in the hollow of his palm. And despite the magnitude of feelings trapped inside her small body, powerful enough to dampen the spark that had faced despair with love and won handily time and again, she did not tremble. Fingers, palm, wrist, were still as a corpse's in his grasp.

"My love," he said. She pulled, so suddenly that Thancred almost lost her despite how weak it was. His fingers tightened, just the smallest bit. Never enough to hurt, but enough that she must know he wasn't giving up. "Inky. Come back to bed. The world isn't ending today. Whatever--whoever--it is can and will wait."

Her skin was beginning to warm under his touch as she sat there, like a statue. Long enough that Thancred felt his knees begin to ache, but he had endured far worse pain for far longer. A hitch of breath told him, eventually, that Inky was crying, and he begged her, silently, to finally let the storm out. To let them weather it where he and Urianger and their friends could anchor her to safety, as she had done so many times for them.

And then there was a rush of aether, like someone had blown pure peppermint oil right into Thancred's face. He watched as a current of icy blue picked up around Inky, and felt an acute nothing as she did not try to pull him with her wherever she was bound. The aether did give her body a jolt of warmth, but it was soon fading as she began to slip into the Lifestream.

"I'm sorry," he thought she whispered.

With the crushing silence gone, he could still hear the waves and the wind, and something that sounded like metal against metal, in the distance. And there was a rustle of fabric--

Thancred lowered his hand to catch Urianger's cloak before it could slip from the roof and into the streets below. It settled across his aching knees, and he sat there until his own fingers grew stiff with the cold before burying them, too, in the thick fabric. They would grow warm soon, if he stayed. Sooner, if he went back to the room and laid down beside the cloak's owner.

But the cold in his chest, he feared, would remain, with half his heart scattered and guttering in the winds.

[myreia]

Desiderium

CHAPTER TWO: PROMENADE

Chapter Rating: Mature (full story Explicit) Characters: Aureia Malathar (WoL), Thancred Waters Pairings: Aureia/Thancred Chapter Words: 2,426 Notes: Set during early Endwalker, spoilers for the start of the expac. Summary: After arriving in Old Sharlayan, Aureia wants to see Thancred’s old haunts. He could not be happier to oblige, but his thoughts are occupied by something else entirely. Prompt: ii. hands | blush Chapters: one • two • three • four • five Read on AO3

The snow falls in earnest as they wind their way through the streets, the tall, marbled domes and columns white against the darkened sky. The more she sees, the more confused she is. It doesn’t feel right, this place—a city built of angles and symmetry and mathematical precision, as if it were from a different era, a different age. Its wide plazas and elegant fountains are more suited for a land of temperate weather like Terncliff, not the cold of the far north.

“Did you enjoy your sightseeing today?” he asks. “I’m sure Krile and G’raha were ecstatic to show you the sights.”

“I think I have found my bearings, yes,” she replies. “I didn’t expect to enjoy visiting the Studium, but it was worth it to see Alphinaud get swarmed. Quite the little celebrity, that one.”

“You shouldn’t tease the boy.”

“But he makes it so easy—”

“I think he has become the butt of a joke too many.”

“Alisaie agrees with me.”

“Alisaie is his sister. Of course she agrees with you.”

She blows out a puff of air in mock irritation and takes stock of their surroundings. They’ve climbed higher now and the city stretches out below them, the harbour transitioning into the Agora with precise fluidity. She squints, wondering if she can pick out Urianger’s familiar form walking about somewhere below. “It was good,” she says after a moment. “Hearing the stories, learning about everyone’s favourite haunts… I’d love to see more of them.”

She trails off, her tone more somber than intended. It used to bother her—years ago, when she first joined the Scions of the Seventh Dawn—that her companions were all united not only by their common goals, but by virtue of being Sharlayan. The one thing she couldn’t share in. Now she is here, of course she is reminded of that.

He squeezes her hand.

“It’s nice, I suppose,” she continues. “How recognizable everyone is. I’m glad they’ve been able to reconnect, truly.”

“Aye. But…?”

She shrugs. “It’s not important. I was wondering… Y’shtola and G’raha and even Urianger have been recognized right away. But you haven’t.”

“Ah. But I have.”

“When?”

“You haven’t been paying attention—”

She makes a face.

“—or you haven’t known what to look for. You do recall what I am an Archon of?”

“Even if I happened to forget—an impossibility at this point—you would remind me.”

“My master’s pupils will have no doubt spotted me immediately, even if they have not made their presence known. I am sure I will hear from them when they are ready. Or if I choose to seek them out myself.”

“Your master?”

“The man who taught me everything I know. Louisoix left me in his care.”

“I see.” This is the first she is hearing of it. Alphinaud and Alisaie’s grandfather was a great man, of that she has no doubt, but even great men have their flaws. Thancred still considers him his mentor, but to know that he was plucked from Limsa Lominsa, taken to another city and unloaded onto another… She isn’t sure how she feels about it. The topic of Louisoix is already difficult to broach, and a part of Thancred still idolizes him. They may never be ready to discuss him honestly. “Do you… want to see him?”

He throws his head back and laughs. “Of course! Whyever would I not?”

“I don’t know, you’ve never spoken of him. I was imagining someone like Matoya.”

“Seven hells, no. No one is like Matoya save Matoya herself—though I imagine Y’shtola may give her a run for her gil when she reaches the appropriate age. No, my master… He’s reclusive. Never been one to express himself well in person, especially when it comes to heartfelt sentiments. No doubt he knows I am here, but should I wish to see him I will have to solve a manner of riddles or some other nonsense to uncover a letter before he vanishes into the night. Though you should know he’s been known to disguise himself as everything from a gleaner to a painter to mysterious maidens. Any person we pass could be him and we would never know it.”

She sighs heavily. “…why am I not surprised?”

They press on, wandering higher and higher. The crowds fade the further they walk, the paths emptying until they are well and truly alone. It seems at this time of evening the city finds itself either down by the harbour, in their homes, or at the Studium.

“I did a pass through the city while you were occupied,” Thancred says, his tone turning grim. “Strange to see it abuzz with news that is not what newfound artefacts of interest the gleaners have brought back or what research is being pioneered or what debates are fresh in the Rostra. I suppose it’s human nature for curiosity to be piqued by idle gossip, but there is far too much focus on the twins’ disownment for my liking.”

“You knew people would talk.”

“That is not what concerns me. It is the focus on this and only this. It shines too bright of a light on the twins, and with the twins in our company it will make our movements all the more challenging…” He lets out an irritated sigh. “Do not ask me to understand the mind of a man like Fourchenault—gods know I never have and I never will—but Twelve damn him for this. Damn the Forum and damn their absurdity.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“I appreciate your optimism. One of us needs it.”

“And if we don’t, I’m sure I can come up with a few alternatives. How good are you at hiding bodies?”

He gives her a look. “Though I am inclined to agree with you, I certainly hope you are joking. You… are joking, yes?”

She pats his arm. “Don’t worry. I’m not contemplating murder. The assassination of a high-ranking member of a neutral nation is firmly off the table. Though I wouldn’t say no to punching that man in the face.”

“I assure you he deserves it. I’ve been itching to do the same since I was eight years old. Had a beautiful chance once but did not take it on account of not wanting to explain to Louisoix why the scrappy former street urchin was brawling with his delicate son.” He pauses, his lower lip curling. “What Ameliance sees in him I will never understand.”

Ameliance… The twins’ mother. She should have remembered that. Fourchenault mentioned her by name during their meeting in Gridania, but to Alphinaud and Alisaie she is simply called “Mother”. Admittedly, she is curious about her. The affection with which the twins discuss her rubs oddly against the way their father has treated them.

“What is she like?” she asks.

He raises an eyebrow. “Ameliance? A delight, if I’m quite honest. Bright and witty and fearlessly clever. I would caution getting on the wrong side of her.”

“Seems you admire her quite a bit.”

“I did. And I still do, I suppose.”

She chews her lower lip, admonishing herself for reading too much into the implications of that statement. Her mind is going places she would rather not think about. “I’ll look forward to an introduction—so long as Fourchenault doesn’t get in the way.”

“I doubt he will. Ameliance always was one to march to the beat of her own drum. If she wants to meet you, then meet you shall.”

They round a long walkway and cross a bridge, pausing at the apex. The river rushes below, its waters babbling in earnest as they flow out to sea.

“I forgot how long you’ve known him,” Aureia says after a moment. “Fourchenault, I mean.”

He chuckles. “Aye, most of my life, I suppose. I have never met a man so unlike his father. Then again, I am not the best candidate to judge, on account of never knowing mine.” His brow furrows, lost in thought. “Sharlayan will regard us in good favour while Krile’s ruse holds, but it may not last forever. Perhaps it is paranoid on my behalf, but until matters with the Forum are resolved, we are in enemy territory. Not everyone here is a friend, no matter how pleasant they are. And Sharlayan makes for a dangerous foe to have, even to its own kind.”

“I know.” She recalls Leveva Byrde and her grandfather, Mace, all too well—and how the latter was thrown in prison for departing the nation illegally.

“If this goes poorly… Y’shtola, Urianger, G’raha and I may be afforded some protection by virtue of our standing as Archons, but it will not extend to you and Estinien. Even if I declare you as my wife, you are not native here.”

“I can look after myself. And I would hardly worry about Estinien, do you really think Sharlayan can keep him grounded for more than a minute? The man can leap backwards out a window and land on his feet.”

“I am aware of that.” He exhales a sharp breath, disgruntled at her attempt at a joke. “Please understand I have cause for concern. G’raha and Y’shtola may be blinded by their invitations to browse the Noumenon once again, and Alphinaud and Alisaie are happy to be home despite the familial issues, but I am not so easily distracted. This may be home, but we cannot let down our guard. Do not underestimate how vicious the Sharlayans can be when given the chance. Stopping the Telophoroi is all that matters. We cannot allow politics and policy and godsdamned pride to interfere with that.”

He meets her eyes. There’s something boiling there—frustration borne from the fatiguing voyage, irritation with Sharlayan politics, his overprotective concern for her that has become second nature since she almost died of light-poisoning on the First. He has been so grounded since their marriage, casting off the shadow of the man he was before, that it has been a long time since she has sense the fury and bitterness that once encompassed him. But she sees it now—a flicker of it, simmering beneath the surface. His need to act now at odds with his orders to stay put and wait.

No wonder he wandered off to do reconnaissance in the city he knows inside and out. For the others, this is a homecoming. For him, this is just another job.

Aureia rests a hand against his cheek, refusing to look away. His frustration doesn’t intimidate her, she’s well-accustomed to it by now. And he is right, of course. She spent two moons preparing mentally for their arrival, only to have everything deflate the moment they stepped ashore and her first day here became a giddy sightseeing trip.

It wasn’t so long ago that the dark towers sprang up and they were fighting Lunar primals. To sit and wait, only to sit and wait some more is agonizing.

There is nothing she can say to soothe him, no words of wisdom she can offer. And so she kisses him, running her hands through his hair and hooking them around his neck as she pulls him into her. At the very least it can be a nice distraction, a way of diverting this anxious, pent-up energy from the voyage neither of them have been able to excise.

A hand presses against the small of her back. His lips part, hot and hungry, his kiss far fiercer than she would normally allow in public. Her breath hitches as his teeth scrape her lower lip, his tongue slipping into her mouth—he tastes of black tea, strong and bitter—and his hand moves further down her back, urgent and eager, as if he hasn’t kissed her in moons and he is desperate for relief. Which is true, in a way. The shared quarters on the ship meant they set aside certain activities for later.

Not a concern for her. If anything, she hardly gave it any thought, absorbed as she was in Alphinaud’s books and studying arcane theories. Some would consider their trip a dry spell, but such things have never bothered her. Sex is nice, but not a necessity. She could theoretically go through the rest of her life without it and be content.

But for him…  

The longing, the yearning, the frustration of certain needs not being met. For too long it has had nowhere to go. And now it needs to go somewhere.

She draws back, breathless and overwhelmed, and he presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth, her jaw, the hollow of her throat. “Thancred…”

He kisses her in answer, sucking roughly at her skin. She winces, a blush blooming on her cheeks, the kiss pleasantly hard—the kind that may leave a mark if he’s not careful.

She’ll find out in the morning.

A low growl rumbles in the back of his throat. “Gods, Aur,” he murmurs. “I…”

His hand brushes her ass and her eyes fly open. She blinks, taking stock of where they are standing—here, out in the open, on this empty bridge, just out of the haze of the lamplight—and moves his hand away.

“Save this for later, yes?” she murmurs. “When we’re not so public…”

He holds her close, gently kissing her forehead. “Aye. My apologies, I forgot myself for a moment.”

She catches his eye and clears her throat. “You know,” she begins, slipping her hand into his. “I’m more than open to the idea of you forgetting yourself from time to time.”

“Is that so?”

“Two moons aboard a ship have done no one any favours. I for one am glad to no longer be sharing a cabin with Y’shtola and Urianger.”

“Aureia—”

“There’s time before we reconvene. I suppose we could even be late, if we wanted to. Y’shtola and G’raha certainly will be, though I suspect a date with dusty tomes is not as satisfying as a date with—”

He gives her a flat look, cutting her off. “You’re incorrigible when you want to be, you do know that, yes?”

She smirks. “I know.”

Thancred presses a hand to her face, his fingers trailing gently along her jaw to cup her chin. He tilts her head up, his gaze trained on hers, any irritation or frustration melted away at the promise of these new prospects.

“Come with me,” he says, his voice low. “You wanted to see our old haunts? Let me show you mine.”

A/N: Thancred’s ruminations on his Sharlayan mentor are inspired by an interesting little side quest you can pick up in Old Sharlayan. Following the right clues and figuring out the puzzle earns you a letter from his mentor and a couple other rewards. I didn’t know that messing with a random box on a bench was going to lead me to Thancred lore at the time, but I find it very funny that it did.

[bunsandstuff]

Lady Alsene Foutuveaux

Warrior of Light

OOC: Hello! My name is Val, some call me Bean too. Thank you for stopping by my blog. It started off as a place for my buns, but these days I've taken a liking to writing about my WoL. Thank you for having interest! Info on her is below! (Also MSQ spoilers ahead)

Alsene Foutuveaux 25 | 15th sun of the fifth umbral moon | Sharlayan | RDM

- Early Life

She was originally born Alsen Foutuveax to her parents: X'veilhena and Trennont Foutuveaux. Her mother X'veilhena was one of Sharlayan's many gleaners, and it was through her work that she met Alsene's father Trennont, a Sharlayan researcher and archon. It was after this an a few years after that the two were bonded and had a son who they named Alsen. The boy had a few years of memories with his doting parents, but there was always something on the horizon, something the two of them were working feverishly toward, much to Alsen's annoyance. And one day, that seeking would take the pair to shores beyond, and thus was Alsen entrusted to the care of the Wilfsunnwyns. As time progressed and the moons they were promised turned into a year, Alsen became a permanent ward of the Wilfsunnwyn household. In Alsen's youth, the shy miqo'te became close friends with Moenbryda to the depth of being near siblings. By this extension did he become acquainted to Urianger as well, though with both as aloof as they were, their interactions were few in between. It was also Moenbryda who encouraged Alsen to become who he was, and thus transitioned and given the name Alsene by the same Roegadyn lass.

- Warrior of Light

Becoming Hydaelyn's champion wasn't in the cards, nor was becoming the Warrior of Light. After she got old enough and saw the ever growing threat of Garlemald creeping up through Eorzea, Alsene became tired of the Forum's inaction. Following in her parents' footsteps, Alsene took up arms and set out to lend her hand in the fight to protect Eorzea and all nations against the Empire's threat. And after coming into the power of the Echo and meeting the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, Alene's long journey began.

- Relationships

Moenbryda Wilfsunnwyn

Found Sister After being taken in by the Roegadyn's parents, Alsene and Moenbryda became very close. The two were nearly inseparable in their youth, and basically family. Up until Moen's passing, Alsene and her were in regular contact, gossiping and spending their little free time catching up with one another. Alsene still regards her as the greatest older sister she could have had.

Urianger Augurelt

Main Ship Despite not having much time to bond in their time in Sharlayan, the two grew closer after Alsene's introduction into the Scions. After one shaky hello, the two of them have retouched on their estranged prior friendship. After Moenbryda's passing, Alsene became more protective over Urianger given how much she knew he meant to her late sister. And in turn, little did she know, the elezen held the same regard for her. Making sure that his dear friend's sister did not come to harm. Their relationship is still unfolding and doesn't have a proper tag yet, but I will update it when I have a name!

Artoirel de Fortemps

AU ship During the main events in Ishgard, Artoirel and Alsene grew quite close. She aided him in learning how to help Ser Aymeric with restoring Ishgard. Their relationship began playful, but both of them knew that there is more lying under the surface. Even so, the Warrior of Light has a hard time accepting these feelings as a beacon to the people placing a strain between them. Their story is unfolding under the tag #Of Hearts and Oaths

And that is all for now. I will update this as more comes, but I appreciate anyone who has read this far! Thank you!

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite 2024 Prompt #1 - Steer

It was late afternoon when Urianger found his mentor settled in on the rocks overlooking the Thaliak River. The vista, though breathtaking, was otherwise quite dismal as it sat far too close to the falls that collected the Tipped Ewer into the Thaliak. The rising mist coated the overlook in constant dew, leaving nowhere dry to sit, and left robes and spirits unpleasantly sodden within half a bell, so it was hardly pleasant to enjoy a meal at. Paper warped and ink ran in the damp without constant wards, making any sort of scholarly work or even pleasure reading tedious at best. And then the bracing wind would pick up and rob the body of warmth and possibly a page or two. Urianger would have understood if Louisoix enjoyed fishing of any sort, there were quite a few Archons of his age who favored that sort of casting as well, but he never saw the sage wield a rod. So it was inexplicable as to why, when not attending to matters scholarly, familial, political, or a mixture of the three, Louisoix inevitably wandered back to this vista, often with a tome and the wooden folding stool one of his more crafty students had gifted him.

At the least, Urianger could understand why Louisoix visited more frequently of late.

“Master Louisoix, the bells grow short ere I take my leave of these shores.”

Louisoix didn’t quite look away from the roaring waters below, but he did acknowledge Urianger’s presence with a nod, “So soon? I suppose Bloewyda and Wilfsunn would have little reason to stay until the final dawn considering how much of their work has relocated to Sharlayan proper.”

“Verily, ‘twould have been but a half moon’s venture for them, had the evacuation not drawn so close.”

“Aye, might as well make the most of it then, I cannot fault their efficiency or pragmatism, the rest of us will join you soon by the end of the moon at any rate.” He chuckled, a little wearily, and turned to the young Elezen with a warm smile, “However, I’m quite surprised you came all the way out here, when I last saw you at lecture. Surely you haven’t been building up your nerve since this morning?”

Urianger looked down at his shuffling feet, “Thou hath seen through mine machinations, I hath indeed mine own agenda here.”

Louisoix adopted that knowing and slightly mischievous twinkle in his eye, “Come to finally ask about this vista, have you not?”

“‘Tis a miserable place.”

“It is! But think of the Ruling Quarter’s canals, how the rowdy waters below and that orderly flow to our west are not merely kin, but one and the same.”

“Archon Totolymo once said ‘twas the work of our forebears that tamed the river.”

“That they did. They had started the work when the Ruling Quarter was first planned, but it wasn’t until my grandsire was but a man grown that we finally received word that the flooding here was completely under control. A full hundred years after the establishment of the colony!”

“And thy reverence for such engineering bringeth thou henceforth?”

Louisoix chuckled again, “Mayhap in part. Nay, I look downriver and imagine what feats of engineering, daring, and aetherology would be required to tame the whole of the mighty Thaliak.”

For a moment, both scholars looked north, out at the swift current glowing orange with the setting sun.

“Would such a mastery ever be possible?”

“Unlikely in my lifetime, and possibly not even in yours or your children’s. But the diligent planners of the Ruling Quarter’s canals hadn’t expected to see the completion of their life’s work. Nor did those that they handed their tools and blueprints to as they passed. If we started the work today, we could expect much the same, and yet, with every generation, our mastery over the river would grow.”

Louisoix turned back to Urianger and carefully affixed his eyes to the boy’s, “This is the manner with which I view our interpretation of prophecy.”

Already, Urianger was a standout in prognostication and, given a few more years of tutelage, would become Louisoix’s equal, if not his better.

“...’Tis much to think about.”

“Come now, Master Augurelt, if we do not act upon the knowledge that we have, what use is it? We cannot stand idly by and let the future as seen by history come to pass while we still have initiative in the present.”

He gestured out to the river, “The factors that influence the waters are myriad, but they are finite. The current is unruly, swift, and strong, but it can be managed with time and diligence. Though the tools and techniques be different, to influence the future as we do these waters would not be insurmountable.”

Urianger looked long and hard at the river, “...And thus thy course of action.”

“My dear student, we have interpreted the same Divine Chronicles. You know about as well as I do the challenges that lie before us, before Eorzea. To condemn a continent of souls to their deaths… I made my respectful dissent clear five years ago, and my stance has not changed yet.”

“And thou wouldst confer these beliefs and goals unto the next generation, unto me and mine.”

“And with any luck, you shall do the same with the generation after yours, if it were to come to it, if the Calamity be delayed but not denied.”

A stiff breeze passed them both, and they shuddered in unison. 

“Come, let us quit this dreary overlook before we both catch our deaths.”

***

It was a full eighteen years later that Urianger found himself overlooking the Thaliak once again. This time from the other end of the falls from which the Tipped Ewer flowed into the river proper, outside the guarded walls and vaulted halls of the Great Gubal Library. Elidibus had a little more to confer with this Arbert character that Urianger was not to be privy to. However, with his soothsaying and basic reasoning skills, he could intuit what Elidibus had to say.

The Ascian was already looking to twist and pervert the heroic desires of Arbert and his party to his own ends. For Urianger to then twist these machinations to his own favor was too risky by half. Surely Elidibus would recognize duplicity from the duplicity with which he acted himself. 

And yet, Urianger had a strange reassurance: somehow he was sure the Emissary wasn’t all there. It was as if he were a mammet, motivated by the magicks that powered and instructed him, without forethought or real cunning. In some ways, it would seem he sought out balance seemingly for the sake of balance. Oh, of course there was this talk of Ardor and the Rejoining, but so little that was seemingly relevant to Elidibus’s current machinations, at least from Urianger’s perspective. 

But for this scheme, none could know of his true agenda. Arbert was willingly fooled by Elidibus, yes, but he had no such desperate credulity over Urianger’s words and deeds. Thus, Urianger’s betrayal of the Scions had to be absolute if Arbert were to believe it.

Besides, Urianger’s plans aligned shockingly close to Elidibus’s own. He would ride the current until it was too late for the Ascian to change the course, then, instead of blackmail, he would simply beseech Hydaelyn himself.

He took a stone, damp from the mist, and cast it into the thundering waters below. It was not simply the Scions that he was betraying, was it? He wondered what Louisoix would have to say of his current course of action. The sage had had but kindly smiles for Urianger, whether it was genuine affection or out of pity for the neglected boy he grown out of being. Perhaps this was what would cause Louisoix to finally knit his brows and thin his lips in concern. Of all the students he could have passed this obligation to, to shift the tides of fate, it had to be Urianger…

***

Hundreds of years later, G’raha Tia chuckled to himself hollowly. For a man of so many esoteric words, Urianger wrote but briefly and plainly of his internal conflict. There was much regret, but also much hope. The Seventh Umbral Calamity could not be denied, but its effects so blunted as to force the hand of the Ascians so soon after. It was a pity the soothsayer had not the advantage of two hundred years of hindsight. So sure that Urianger had failed Louisoix in his writing, that there would be no one to pick up the great work after he was gone, that the Eighth Umbral Calamity would come and go and naught could be done to prevent or avoid it.

Aye, Cid Garlond and Nero Scaeva were the technical knowhow, they were the ones that engineered and planted the seeds, but it was Urianger’s writings and musings that first alerted them to the possibility that such seeds could be sowed and could actually bear fruit. The mighty Thaliak River may have dried up in the stagnation that overtook all of Eorzea, but were it still flowing, G’raha was sure the Garlond Ironworks now had the tools and techniques to temper its currents.

Or at least reverse the flow of the waters completely.

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

FFXIV Write Day 5: Stamp

In the far future, two postal workers discuss the new commemorative stamp that was announced---one of the Warrior of Light. SFW.

“Did you hear? There’s going to be a commemorative stamp of the Warrior of Light.” A lalafellan postal worker said to his hyur coworker as they sorted mail.

The hyur smiled. “I heard.”

“Aren’t you named after her, Agi?”

“I am indeed!” It’s something Mum loves bragging about. “Though, obviously, Agnes Currai Varlineau was way more impressive than little old me.”

The adventurer of adventurers.

The hero of heroes.

The savior of saviors.

“Oh please! I remember reading in school the Warrior of Light had friends from all walks of life---world leaders like Lord Aymeric de Borel, the founder of modern Ishgard, to pirates to farmers to…” He waved a hand dramatically. Nolo is nothing if not dramatic. “You get the point. She’d think you’re impressive. I know it!”

Awww, Nolo is so sweet. She wrinkled her nose and giggled. “That’s very kind.” She took another bunch of envelopes to sort. “She was…it’s almost hard to imagine she even existed. Mother, hero, wife—”

“The greatest mage to ever live, according to her colleague Archon Urianger.” Nolo winked. “Read that in school too.”

Agi barked a laugh. “Of course you did. Vylbrand’s greatest daughter. Have you seen the statue of her and Ketenramm in Limsa?”

His bright green eyes widened. “No…have you?”

The hyur nodded. “Yeah, saw it on a field trip when I was a kid. It’s gorgeous. Too bad Ketenramm didn’t live to see it.”

“And Agnes Varlineau was old when it was finished, right?”

She nodded before turning her attention to the last pile of envelopes. “She and Ser Estinien were very old---he was in a wheelchair and her eyesight was nearly gone. But it was said she loved it and was touched by the gesture.” Better than the famous portrait that she apparently hated. “Gods, I hope they don’t use the portrait for the stamp.”

“Oh. That one.” He sniggered. “Nah. I heard they want to use the Leveilleur portrait.”

Oooooh, that’s my favorite of her. Painted by Archon Alphinaud Leveilleur of his dear friend and mentor Agnes Varlineau. It’s far more whimsical and colorful than The Portrait, which was done by a famous Ishgardian painter and she HATED it.

And done!

Agi did a little VICTORY dance as she glanced at her tomephone. “Shift’s over. Thank fuck. See you, Nolo!”

Nolo waved at his friend and continued his work, muttering about how the Warrior of Light stamp is going to be a huge seller. I mean, how can it not be?!

Upon exiting the post office in Summerford, Agi spotted her boyfriend waiting on his motorcycle. “Hey sexy!” They shared a kiss, and he pinched my ass! Naughty! She climbed on the back and wrapped her arms around his narrow waist to give him a brief hug. My sexy fireman. I love you.

“There’s only one sexy person here, sweetheart, and it ain’t me.” Etienne cackled, handing her a helmet. My helmet is currant purple with sparkles. His is an elezen helmet that’s plain black. He’s got simple tastes, whereas I’m a bit…sparkly. Glittery. Bright. “How was work?”

Helmet securely on, Agi pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Alright. How was your day off?”

As he revved the engine, he snorted. “Shit without you, darlin’.”

Why do I have the distinct feeling that’s something Ser Estinien would’ve said to the Warrior of Light? Their love story was one that still serves as inspiration for movies, shows, songs, books, and even an opera!

“Home?”

She held onto him and sighed happily. “Yeah. Home, love.”

“Home is wherever he is.” ---Agnes Currai Varlineau on her husband, Ser Estinien Varlineau

[klopford]

My thoughts on the Dawntrail extended teaser

Spoilers, duh, at least through 6.5

First of all I'm disappointed we didn't see Krile's new job. Viper looks cool, but eh it's not for me.

About the division in the Scions: I'm already banking on the female Hrothgar wanting to recruit us for whatever side she's on in the succession thing, while Thancred and Urianger's "client" is the opposition.

Krile is going to Tural most likely to speak with Galool Ja Ja, but we don't know if his side is the one we're supporting for succession or not. Maybe Krile is not on the boat with us after all and she's going separately? Maybe there are three sides to the conflict and Krile/Galool will also be opposing whoever we're siding with?

The Twins are certainly going along as an opportunity to take a break as they were told, and to continue looking for ways to support Garlemald. Alphinaud is definitely going to get involved in politics around the succession and probably try to establish an alliance between Tural and Garlemald. Alisaie is just there to help out and also find her own things to do. Seems she might befriend a Moblin? (I think that's what threw the fruit to her)(edit: nvm it was a Mamool Ja. It was 4am when I watched this lol).

Now... about why we haven't actually gotten a full glimpse of Alphinaud in the trailer yet...

Back when 6.4 happened and Thancred and Urianger discussed their client seeking Archons specifically, I had the suspicion that either the WoL or the Twins were going to be nominated for Archon status. The fact that after 6.5, if you speak to Alisaie hanging around at the estate, she says Fourchenault wants to have a word with you... I started to get the feeling that Fourchenault wants to nominate his children as Archons. Now, I know Archons can only be nominated by other Archons, but one of the wikis says that Fourchenault is one. We haven't seen his tattoo though...

Maybe we haven't seen Alphinaud yet because he's got the mark now? What if, after becoming an Archon, the client recruits him too, and now he has to be a double agent like Urianger was?

Which is actually kind of disappointing because if anyone deserves to become an Archon, it would be Alisaie for discovering the cure for tempering. Maybe she declines the honor? We don't see a mark on her in the trailer... could be the camera angles, could be editing, could be she chooses to have it put somewhere we don't see like her father did, who knows.

...Or we can just go with the more popular fan theory right now that Alphinaud hits his growth spurt first. Which would also be very cool! The other theory is he's actually standing near the female Hrothgar or has dialogue with her in the final trailer. Which is also cool too!

But whatever happens to Alphinaud, I think we're going to see it in 6.55. And then they'll be free to show him fully in the trailer.

Ugh! January can't come fast enough!

[siderealcity]

This is 100% about the lrt, but putting this in a separate post to avoid potentially spoiling the op.

I think something that gets kind of forgotten about all of the Scions, but particularly about the Archons, nearly all of whom seem to have been students of Louisoix's to some degree, is that Louisoix was Sharlayan's foremost expert on prophesy.

He wasn't just a very wise man. He was a man who knew what was destined to happen. And he decided to take action to thwart destiny.

That is the beginning of like, a dozen classical Greek tragedies, by the way. The Circle of Knowing, and Minfilia, and his son and his grandchildren all watched the greatest man they knew challenge Fate... and lose.

The Calamity came anyway. And he died.

And this truth, that destiny is inescapable, colors every interaction we have with the Scions.

This is what's behind Urianger's torment over his dealings both with the Warriors of Darkness and with the Crystal Exarch. He has already seen that fate is inevitable. Ardbert is doing his best to fulfill that destiny, because he's run out of other options, so what's the point of trying to stop him? The Exarch is trying to change a fate that's already befallen him. Is that even possible? Urianger, to some extent, does not believe that what he's doing can possibly succeed, but trying to save someone, anyone from these disasters is exactly what Louisoix would have done. Even if it was futile. Even if it was just one adventurer teleported to safety.

This is one of the many, many reasons that Thancred has no idea what to tell Minfilia about the choice that lies ahead of her. Because there is no right answer, and also, whatever is going to happen, he cannot save her from it. He couldn't save Louisoix, or Warburton, or Minfilia the Elder, or Papalymo, or even himself from Lahabrea.

That's what lies behind Forchenault's asshattery. He knows what's coming, just as his father did, and he knows that trying to stop it didn't work before. Forchenault's not even an Archon. He clearly does not think he even can follow in his father's footsteps, let alone is ever truly going to be his father's equal. If the great Louisoix couldn't avert fate, who can?

And it's most obvious in Alisaie's righteous anger about sacrifice. Because her beloved grandfather gave everything, and it still wasn't enough. Bahamut didn't die. The Ascians still remain to bring about more calamities. All that happened was that he left her behind.

And she looks at all the people around her, most especially G'raha and WoL, and sees them repeating it.

Because all of them have internalized that fate is unavoidable, and the only thing certain is death. So they run towards it.

[anneapocalypse]

I have now found one place Urianger's family is mentioned, Encyclopedia Eorzea vol. 3, and only because the fandom wiki references it:

When he was young, Urianger's parents were deeply engrossed in their research into the occult, leaving Urianger often unattended. His neighbor, Bloewyda Uwilsyngwyn, couldn't bear the sight of the young child being alone, and so offered to raise him in his parents' stead. Urianger's parents thanked Boewyda profusely before leaving for parts unknown, and so it was that Urianger was welcomed into the family of Bloewyda, her husband Wilfsunn, and their daughter Moenbryda.

(Quote is from the wiki, not the book, and it might be a paraphrase, but that's what I've got at the moment.)

And Jesus Christ, this is just... heartbreaking to me. You would think that a pair of scholars would be thrilled to raise a kid like Urianger and share their knowledge with him and encourage him in his own education. The fact that vol. 1 references Moenbryda as helping him enter the Studium always needled me because like? Knowing who Urianger is today and extrapolating backwards, I would have needed exactly zero explanation for why and how he entered the Studium and became an archon. If there's any character who doesn't require an explanation for that, it's Urianger! "Scholar" is his entire character concept. You could tell us he was born an archon and we'd probably half believe it. So Moenbryda being mentioned in that way always seemed Significant, for that reason and for the unspoken question, Where were his parents in this? Did they not care about their kid's education? Like I was on the verge of concluding that his parents were gleaners or laborers or otherwise not scholars themselves, and that's why they were so absent from his life.

But nope. They were apparently just so wrapped up in their own research that they functionally abandoned him with the neighbors. "...before leaving for parts unknown." The fuck. I wonder if he even knows where they are, or if they're completely estranged at this point. I wonder if he's ever angry at them, or if he's just so deeply internalized the idea that there was always something legitimately more important than him and his happiness... which he has maybe carried into his adult worldview in a big way. I can't imagine this not having massive implications for why his self-image is... the way it is. Certainly he had love and care in his childhood thanks to Moenbryda's family, but still... you don't forget something like that.