#{ felt like a Post-Heavensward patch }

[voidsentprinces]

Shadowbringers took Emet-Selch from ARR Lahabrea levels of mustache twirling, Saturday Morning Cartoon villain. All monologue and evil laughter while his evil boobs malevolently boobed down the Post-Stormblood's darker breast boobily and changed him into an actual character. And the first Ascian who actually spent time with us in a more meaningful way. Flipping them from one note, evil that must be defeated. To one we came to understand and a group that connected to our character's literal past reincarnation that we do not recall.

Additionally, atmospherically, Shadowbringers brought us to Post-Apocalypse that wasn't 28 Days Later, Mad Max or Rapture-esque. While pulling from all those series. Its a world 100 years after the Apocalypse was averted but still causes the world to live in its shadow.

This expansion seems to be the beloved darling of the community. Even topping Heavensward in most regards. But, also, personally, I feel like Shadowbringers is only good Shadowbringers for the last three levels of it. And rest is just so much set dressing and putting together the A-Team. For lack of a better comparison, 70 - 79 is our Avengers Infinity War. We get the band back together, fight off the big bad and actually almost win. But then we lose and we lose HARD and we spend a handful of quests somewhat wandering aimlessly until we resolve to go after the one who took victory away from us. That lead up, to me, is alright but the story didn't really HIT, outside of my long winded story analysis reasons, until we reach Amaurot.

Even its Post-Patches seemed to struggle to figure out what to do. Having Elidibus bounce hither and thither without the Scions really trying to stop him because, "We don't know what he is up to." which was counterproductively frustrating to me. You are literally not stopping and banishing the villain so the plot can happen. Alisaie literally kept tabs on the Warriors of Darkness because we were focusing on dealing with Nidhogg. Why the hell couldn't they have kept tracked and harassed Elidibus at least? But no, the sky starts to shower stars and then it is go time. And while To the Edge and the Seat of Sacrifice are awesome. My suspense of disbelief that our Scions would just shrug and only off screen keep tags on lesser Ascians and then just be like, "I dunno fellas, this here Elidibus is tricky." strikes me as dense. Like, this is denser than a dead star. They let things happen for the sake of it happening.

Bottomline, there is some wiggle room here. Shadowbringers may be the community's darling. But I wonder if, its just because we remember the super highs of Amaurot to Seat of Sacrifice. And kind of brush things like; the Ran'jit fights, the Supernatural problem of Lucifer's Cousin's Roommate being the big bad in Lunar Primals, Thancred's treatment of Ryne and Speedrunning him some redemption in the Amh Araeng second half.

I'm rambling now, as a whole. Did you enjoy Shadowbringers? If not why? Vote your answer and leave your opinion in the tags if you'd like.

Note: I am aware that the Post-Patch production was stunted by the COVID Pandemic. Still, I'd like your opinion about anything you felt lacking. Even with that dead whale hanging over the entire thing.

[nihilnovisubsole]

phew! finally a weekend where i can set aside enough time to type up The Promised Endwalker Stream-of-Consciousness Post. i finished the base story... a month ago? but work has been busy, and i think tumblr benefits from me being quiet sometimes. anyway, what a ride. when you've been building up to the end of your arc for a decade, you want to hit it like an earthquake, and that's exactly what they did.

i think people love endwalker because it fires on all cylinders. it returns - in both story and vision - to the eorzea we love, and the dev team gets to show off everything they've learned. the dungeons and boss fights are dynamic and imaginative and colorful and bring the game's epic sense of scope to bear. the story callbacks are juicy. the music is orchestral again. we're back home, and we're saving the galaxy. what's better than this?

i love that we go to garlemald. i don't - i mean, you know, i don't like garlemald. i shouldn't have to qualify that. but it's hugely narratively satisfying to see the face of the enemy we've been fighting since the first few hours of ARR. you don't think about them when you're beating them up in castrum centri or ala mhigo. they're star wars bad guys. then you meet them on their own turf. you observe firsthand how they starve and cannibalize their own people to feed their obsession with state power and military strength. the wintry environment makes it seem all the more barren and desperate. my favorite part by far. i wish we'd spent more time there.

actually, on that note:

there is an argument that endwalker should've been two expacs. i've heard similar about stormblood - ala mhigo should've been the whole thing, and doma should've been either patch content or an expac of its own. the prevailing theory is that, after ARR, the devs are afraid of letting arcs run long. i can't speak to that, but i wouldn't have minded, that's for sure!

i won't pretend not to be biased. i've noted in many xiv posts that it hurries through its political plots to get to the magic stuff. i felt more conscious of it in heavensward and especially in stormblood. i made peace with it in endwalker. with dessert this good, who am i to complain? i can do small character drama on my own time. for now, the game wants royce to be a big damn shonen hero, and that can be fun, too.

speaking of characters, urianger and estinien have grown on me. this is the arc where, for me at least, the scions have congealed. they're all good, but with any large cast and custom player character, you tend to form the meatiest bonds with a few specific ones. i think royce appreciates urianger's cooler, more mature head. they're both so formal. he realizes she's someone he can confide in. i think she sees estinien as a gifted, but hotheaded whelp, which i find very funny. patience, child. stop sulking. do your breathing drills.

i love thancred's MGS sequence and in from the cold too. they're stressful, but i love that the team tried, you know what i mean? the fact that you can fight enemies in a pinch makes those duties way more bearable than some other games that experiment with stealth.

in from the cold as a whole, honestly. If You Know, You Know

all right, i can't avoid referencing spoilers anymore, sorry. there's a sense of classical tragedy to the whole elpis sequence. it's like watching macbeth or hamlet. you know how it's going to end, and you know you're powerless to stop it, but if they'd just made that different choice! but we had to leave eden. the warrior of light had to end up where they are to finish what elpis started. i don't do fate/destiny plots, but this? i'll take it.

i also knew what would happen going into ultima thule and still came away from it moved. it's strong writing. that's all there is to it. sure, the visuals are haunting, but the dialogue has to sell a gauntlet of difficult character moments, and it pulls it off. on the design side, there's some interesting intentional friction that forces you to linger in the zone and sit with its sense of despair. that part where you have to search the empty park for signs of life? oof

with the majority of the MSQ under my belt, i started sniffing around for what else there is to do ingame. i tried ninja. did terribly. i tried sage. did terribly too, but at least that gave me access to the healer role quests, which, ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). the nier raids are gorgeous. i even did the controversial werlyt quests, and terncliff is so cute. i kind of wish we could have another story there!

what's next? i dunno! right now i'm burning through the hildibrand quests before i continue on with endwalker's patch story. the field operation stuff seems interesting to do after the MSQ, in a "hey, you saved the world, but we have more missions for you" way. i've also contracted Triple Triad Collector Disease, so that'll keep me busy for a long time.

all right. one last thing. Real Gamer Moments: i was in a mount-farming party recently, and i said that i sort of collected mounts, but only used the ishgardian chocobo. it's a roleplay thing - it's the chocobo royce took when she ran away from ishgard. one of the party members said "haurchefant would be proud of you." AUGH

[finishing-touch]

Top 5 favorite zones across all expansions of acclaimed MMORPG FFXIV!

[ Ask me my top 5 anything ]

My Limsa bias is about to show. In no discerning order:

Sea of Clouds: I was in post ARR patch hell for what felt like forever when first going through the game. So finally getting to Heavensward and the first proper zone was a very memorable moment in my eyes. This zone also just that particular old school FF vibe in terms of aesthetic and music. It’s got great lighting for your screenshots, an airship to gpose on for all your sky pirate needs, and hunting Squonk is always an adventure.

The Fringes: Solid music. Multiple varied biomes. The memory of running out from the starting camp and being immediately attacked by a treant and hearing Stormblood’s combat music for the first time is something I recall very fondly.

Southern Thanalan: it’s got sand. Giant crystalline structures in the background. Corpse brigade camps. Little Ala Mhigo. More sand. Overall this zone has a lot of wonderful opportunities for gpose especially.

Western La Noscea: there’s something to be said about the geography in this zone. I love the lone road stretching from the southern tip that takes you to Swiftperch and then to Aleport. I love that you can see Pharos Sirius always looming ominously in southern distance. The flower fields being marauded by wild dodos who’ve developed a taste for freedom, the patches of wildflowers littering the cliffs of the coast, the uphill road leading to Satasha, the Maelstrom outpost barricading sahagin territory- I can wax romance about this place forever.

Middle La Noscea: I think zones with a prominent landmark you can always discern from any spot is peak design, and here it’s Limsa beckoning you with its grand salt swept alabaster buildings and construction. I love everything about this area and it’s my go-to zone for all my La Noscea gpose needs.

A hot or not-so-hot take but by comparison the none of the expansion zones capture the same quality of personality as ARR zones do. The former feel so much barren ( FF16 has a similar issue).

[likemosaic]

general chiyo headcanon dump regarding ARR + the post patch. tw for emetophobia mention. mild arr spoilers!

chiyo was resistant to joining the scions at first, especially due to thancred and her fear of men (which presented more as "leave me alone", resenting his persistent efforts to recruit her). he convinced her by having her meet minfilia (who encouraged chiyo to join and explained the echo), but chiyo had lingering "annoyance" (read: a big crush) towards thancred. until he was possessed, at which point she felt awful and repentant, and sincerely apologized for misjudging his character. they have a good relationship after that, depending on verse. with @windcovet's verse, they start dating after he's rescued and are currently still together, though in an open relationship that can be...turbulent, to say the very least. they still argue and can't agree on anything, but when shit gets real, they're there for one another.

during her time as a mercenary, chiyo acted as a shinobi and a bard to kill her marks, but not as a samurai, despite being trained as one as a child. she viewed what she was doing (taking contracts to kill less than reputable men) as unclean and not worthy of using her samurai blade for. after she completes the ARR quests for samurai going into heavensward, however, chiyo's childhood love for her blade is returned, and she gives up mercenary work to become a part-time samurai again with the scions.

though she was tasked with killing lord lolorito by teledji adeleji, chiyo chose to give up being a mercenary and to "go straight" just before the praetorium, having been positively influenced by the other scions. unfortunately, this meant that yugiri and the doman refugees suffered the consequences of that, when lolorito refused to accept them into ul'dah. though it was a blessing in disguise as they were able to go to revenant's toll instead. still, chiyo resents lolorito for it and blames herself, as always.

the sylphs were very impressed by chiyo's dancing (her having been a performer for many years) and call her "dancing one" as a result. they also tried to marry her to ramuh (read: temper her). she politely but firmly declined.

chiyo loves moogles and was mostly busy fawning over king moggle mog during the trial. useless bard.

chiyo taught yugiri and the other doman au'ra how to apply a linkpearl behind the horn properly, as when she arrived to the west, she had no one to teach her.

chiyo is obsessed with nanamo: she thinks she's incredibly cute and idolizes the sultana. she actually sleeps with a plushie of nanamo, though she keeps it a secret. her idolization is no secret, though, given her very evident fangirling everytime they interact.

chiyo was shocked that doma had rebelled and been crushed in her absence, as she had left doma years before; she blames herself and feels that if she had been there, she could've helped, though it's more likely she would've just died. during the rebellion, chiyo's ex-boyfriend was killed by a particular garlean, and it comes up again in stormblood. chiyo receives an echo of the event upon meeting yugiri but doesn't know how to decipher it until stormblood.

chiyo is terrified of water and threw up over the railing multiple times during the leviathan trial.

[myreia]

Divergence of the Heart

CHAPTER TWO: THE NATURE OF THE BEAST

Chapter Rating: Mature (full story rating is Explicit) Characters: Aureia Malathar (WoL), Aymeric de Borel, Thancred Waters, Hilda Ware Pairings: Aureia/Aymeric, Aureia/Thancred, Thancred/Hilda Chapter Words: 4,788 Notes: Set during the Heavensward patches. Summary: Aureia Malathar may have made a name for herself in Ishgard, but her deeds come with a hefty personal toll. Despite her victories at the Grand Melee she has never felt more unsure of herself. Her relationship with Thancred—the person she thought knew her the best—is strained, yet she cannot abandon him. Aymeric is falling for her harder with each passing day, yet she cannot bring herself to accept it. All may be fair in love and war, but at least war is predictable. Love on the other hand… Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 Read on AO3 Avi’li Sostomi belongs to my dear friend @lilas!

When she reaches the Forgotten Knight, Aureia shoves the doors open and clatters down the stairs. Though the sound causes some heads to turn, the tavern quickly reverts to its drunken murmurings and clandestine conversations. She has always had an affection for Gibrillont’s establishment. The lighting is dark, the hearths warm, the food and drink good. She is rarely identified as the Warrior of Light here, blending in with crowds too drunk to recognize her. Here, everyone’s business is their own. Here, she is just another patron stepping in from the cold.

“Ah, Aureia!” Gibrillont nods in welcome, his hands occupied by cleaning out tankards with a worn rag. “I hear congratulations are in order—”

She rests her arms on the counter and leans into it. “No. Not in order. As far as I’m concerned, nothing of significance happened today.”

He pauses, regarding her with a knowing smile on his face. “Very well,” he says. “‘Tis but an ordinary day, with ordinary struggles.”

“And ordinary drinks,” she adds pointedly.

Gibrillont chuckles and stoops, resurfacing a moment later with a bottle. “Then perhaps this miraculous brew will serve you well, Mistress Malathar,” he says and slides it across the counter to her waiting hand.

Aureia eyes him—the honorific has not gone unnoticed—and hefts the bottle. Wine. Likely cheap, likely strong, and likely to give her a phenomenal hangover the next morning. “Thanks,” she grunts. The dark glass slips against her fingerless glove and she reacts quickly, tightening her grip before she drops it.

His eyes narrow. “I apologize if this is not my place,” he says carefully, picking up the rag and returning to cleaning tankards. “But I suspect this is not a celebratory drink.”

The nape of her neck prickles. Thoughts of Thancred race through her mind, jagged and raw. No matter how hard she tries to banish him, he lingers. Making a face, she yanks the cork out and downs a mouthful of wine. She coughs, the tart, heady scent clogging her nostrils, the fragrant flavour lingering on her tongue.

“There’s nothing to celebrate tonight, Gibrillont,” she says and slams a handful of gil on the counter. “I’m here to get drunk.”

Bottle in hand, Aureia forces her way through the crowd, searching for a table. The cacophony of a dozen conversations fills her ears. From the merchants to the off-duty Temple Knights to minor scions of lesser nobility, all are focused on one thing: the Grand Melee, the Alliance, and the Warrior of Light’s thrilling duel with General Raubahn.

Notably—at least to her—Sidurgu is absent from his usual post. He must have not wanted Rielle caught in the midst of all this revelry, not when there are so many Temple Knights around. The day they dispatched Ystride de Caulignot together is still raw in her mind. Though the church has changed, any number of her former allies or supporters could be among the knights’ numbers.

Aureia pauses in the centre, twisting left and right as she scans the room. “Seven hells,” she mutters, taking another swig. She is glad for their success, truly, she is. Aymeric was correct, this was the only way to incorporate Ishgard into the Alliance without upsetting the Holy See’s delicate internal politics. She hates to give it to him, but Thancred was right—Ishgardian pride has been the source too many of their difficulties. The whole nation is too arrogant for its own good.

And the last thing she needs now is a recount of her heroics on refrain.

Pushing her way through a cluster of loud-mouthed knights, she rounds the corner and flies down the stairs, disappearing into the lower level.

Aureia feels the change as she descends. Though Aymeric is doing his best to pave a way for a new future, dismantling a thousand years of tradition is not a feat accomplished overnight. The highborn and the lowborn still separate instinctively, and that divide could not be more palpable than in the Forgotten Knight. The hearths are dark, the rooms cramped, the floors and tables scratched. The air is mustier here, thick with the scents of the Brume. But the alcohol is strong, the patrons lively, and there is a sense of fierce, fearless freedom about this place that she has never found upstairs.

“Aw, c’mon, Avi, I had it that time!”

A familiar voice cuts through the din. Aureia pauses on the third step and scans the room, searching. Hilda sits slung in a chair, boots on the table, cards in her hand. A wrought iron lamp lies off to the side, its candle casting a warm glow over a collection of discarded plates and half-finished tankards. Her carbine rests against the wall behind her, its polished finishings glinting in the dim light.

A white-haired Miqo’te perches across from her, his tail curled casually around one of his stool’s legs. He holds his cards close to his face, eyes alight with an impish grin. “Looks like fortune says otherwise,” he says. “I win.”

Hilda harumphs and tosses her cards. “Cheater,” she snorts, grabbing her tankard. “You’re never this good.”

His ear twitches. “Or perhaps the sun has finally risen, understanding has dawned, and I am finally decent at Triple Triad,” he replies, rolling a card between his fingers. “Play enough and even the worst of us get better eventually.”

She eyes him over her tankard and takes a drink. “Or you cheated.”

“I did not.”

“Keep telling yourself that—”

The Miqo’te chortles and throws down his cards, forearms pressed against the table as he dissolves into a fit of laughter. Hilda coughs and lowers her tankard. Spotting Aureia from across the room, she balances it on her knee and raises a hand in greeting.

“I was just beginning to think I wouldn’t see you tonight,” she says casually, adjusting her feet as Aureia draws close. She gestures to her companion. “Avi’li, Aureia—Aureia, Avi’li. Don’t trust him, he cheats at Triple Triad.”

Avi’li’s mouth drops open. “I don’t cheat—” 

“Mhm. You’ll have to be more convincing than that.”

Avi’li flashes her a grin as she pulls up a chair. “Always good to meet a friend of Hilda’s,” he says, eyes flicking curiously from her to Hilda and back again. They narrow with that distinct inquisitiveness that comes over anyone who spots the two women together. “Pardon the intrusion, but you two aren’t—”

“No,” Aureia and Hilda say together.

It’s become a habit—if six separate incidents so far can be called a habit. From their similar colouring, heritage, and builds, it is easy for the indiscriminate eye to assume they are sisters. After all, how many ruby-eyed, black-haired women of mixed Hyur and Elezen parentage find their way to Ishgard? The truth of the matter is that their origins couldn’t be more different. But despite it, they are connected—if not by mutual experience, then by respect and solidarity. Hilda has been one of the few in Ishgard unafraid of her reputation and status. Her keen awareness and blunt honesty are a breath of fresh air in a nation who has alternatively seen her as a hero to be worshipped or a threat to be put down.

Aureia is forever grateful for it.

“I see you came prepared,” Hilda continues, eyeing the wine bottle as Aureia places her staff against the wall and throws herself into her chair. “You made a memorable display in the Grand Melee today. Tired of all the lordlings fawning over you, I reckon?”  

“Didn’t stay around for that,” Aureia replies, slouching down.

She regards her with an amused smile. “Abandoning Aymeric to field them for you? Now I feel sorry for the poor sod. I wonder how many propositions of marriage have landed on his desk in the past half-day.”

“None, if I have anything to say about it,” Aureia replies, raising the bottle to her lips. The wine is just as sour the second time as it was the first.

Hilda chuckles and shakes her head, her long, dark ponytail rippling down her back. “Don’t think you have a choice there, Aur,” she says grimly. “If you hadn’t won over the blue bloods yet, you’ve certainly done so today. More eyes are on you now than ever before.”  

She grimaces.

“If you wanted to avoid this mess entirely, you could have… I dunno… thrown the fight with that general bloke. But that would have led to quite an upset. Best not think on it now, eh?”

She grunts noncommittally into her bottle and takes another drink.

Hilda presses her lips together, eyes narrowed, and slowly unfurls. “Give us a moment here, huh, Avi?” she says, removing her feet from the table.

Avi’li glances at Aureia, his tail flicking quietly behind him. “Good to meet you, Aureia,” he says with a graceful bow. “See you around sometime, yeah?” Swiping his tankard from the table, he turns and threads his way through the crowd.

Hilda folds her arms across her chest. “Right,” she says as he disappears. “Now tell me what’s really going on. I ain’t seen you like this since Haurchefant passed.”

“Nothing,” Aureia replies, sipping on her bottle. “What’s wrong with wanting a drink?”

“Because you shouldn’t be drinking on your own after that display today!” Hilda grips her chair by the seat and drags it forward. The legs scrape horrifically as she shuffles it across the floor. “You should be celebrating. With your fellow Scions, the Ul’dahn delegation, or hells… why not Aymeric? You should have seen the look on his face when you disappeared. So, tell me—” She prods a finger into Aureia’s shoulder. “What in the seven hells are you doing down here with a bottle of Gibrillont’s worst wine, looking like the world just ended?”

Aureia lowers her bottle, chewing her lip as she stares absently at the flickering candle. “It’s nothing,” she says. “I’m tired. And someone who I thought was my friend may no longer…”

She trails off, the words catching painfully in her throat. Saying it now is as good as admitting it. She isn’t prepared for that—not yet. As furious as she is with Thancred, she sees too much of herself in him. He is struggling with something he refuses to voice, something she knows all too well. She should have seen it the moment he ran off after the cyclops on his own. It wasn’t that long ago that she was going through the same motions, taking off across Coerthas on her own, battling whatever monsters she could find alone and unprepared.

But Aureia had help when her luck ran out. Estinien tirelessly shadowed her as she stupidly threw herself into fight after fight, pulling her out when she encountered a foe she could not handle alone. Sid watched her back, his initial resentment and mistrust bleeding into hope and faith as they stood their ground against Rielle’s pursuers. Hells, she thought she foolishly thought she was alone when she came to Ishgard, but she was wrong. So impossibly wrong. Alphinaud and Tataru never gave up on her, even when she pushed them away. Even Ysayle—wonderful, relentless Ysayle who had risked so much and sacrificed all—came for her at the eleventh bell.

But Thancred has no one. He was fortunate today, scraping by with only a handful of minor wounds. If Y’shtola’s theory is correct and his aether is disrupted… How long will it be before he puts himself in a situation he cannot overcome?

Bastard, she thinks. Wherever you’re going, don’t you dare get yourself killed for this. I’ll never forgive you if you do. 

Hilda sighs irritably and plucks the bottle from her hand.

Aureia opens her mouth in protest. “Hey—”

Hilda sets it on the table and firmly pushes it out of the way. Twisting around, she grips her by the forearms and pulls her in. “Listen to me, Aur,” she says, staring her in the eye. “That friend of yours? Fuck them. If they’re making you feel this miserable, tell them to bugger off. You’re the bloody Warrior of Light, you don’t have many chances to catch a break. Good days are priceless where you’re concerned. Don’t let anyone ruin that for you.”

Aureia swallows hard. If only it were that easy… “I’m trying,” she says.

Hilda raises an eyebrow.

“I am,” she insists. “Give me my wine back.”

Hilda smirks. Swiping the bottle off the table, she digs her heels into the floor and pushes herself backwards, sending her chair scooting across the floor and out of reach. She leans back, one leg crossed casually over the other, and eyeing Aureia as she raises the bottle to her mouth and takes a long drink. Grimacing, she lowers the bottle and coughs into the back of her hand. “Yeah…” she says hoarsely, holding the bottle out. “That’s, uh… bad. Extremely bad. I’m gonna have to have a word with Gibrillont over how bad that is, aren’t I.”

Aureia snorts with laughter and retrieves the bottle, taking another swig. The tartness has begun to fade—or perhaps it’s turned her tongue numb. Looping a lock of hair behind her ear, she lounges in her chair and casts an eye around the tavern. The cacophony washes over her, the noise and commotion strangely soothing after the icy silence on the bridge.

Hilda retrieves her own drink. “If you want my advice, Aur—”

“Hmm… not particularly, no.”

She chuckles. “Too bad. I’m gonna give it to you anyway.”

Aureia makes a face.

Hilda shifts in her seat, her foot bouncing on her knee. “If I were you, I’d find someone to enjoy myself with,” she says. “Take the edge off, eh? Have a little fun. Don’t say it hasn’t occurred to you. Someone like you, with your standing and fame? You must have more than one suitor calling—”

Aureia flushes. “Not interested in that,” she says firmly.

“No?” She raises an eyebrow. “Not once? Not in all this time you’ve been in Ishgard? Surely someone here has caught your eye—”

“Not interested.”

“Not even that Auri fellow? The one upstairs with the girl following him around like a lost puppy?”

The description twists sharply on her gut. “Rielle isn’t a lost puppy. And Sid and I—”

“Oh ho?” Hilda raises an eyebrow, her smirk barely contained. “Never realized you were on first-name basis with those two. Is there something you ain’t telling me, or am I to figure it out for myself?”

Aureia rolls her eyes. “It’s not what you think.”

“No? He’s a handsome enough bloke, if you ask me—”

“Well, I’m not—”

“The only time I see that scowl wiped off his face is when you’re around.”

“Sidurgu and I are friends, that’s it. Besides, I said I wasn’t interested in all that and I meant it.”

Hilda shuts her mouth and raises her hands, silently indicating that the point has been made and understood.

Aureia sighs, rapping her fingers against the bottle. This is not an easy discussion to have—and certainly not now, certainly not here, certainly not with Hilda.

This isn’t about Sid. It’s not.  

She flushes at the thought and shoves it away, annoyed at her friend for making assumptions. There’s no point belabouring where she and Sid stand, they aren’t anything more than war comrades. Though there have been times when she has wondered differently. A casual touch here, a look there… She flushes remembering the scolding of the century he gave her after she threw herself in front of him and Rielle and took a temple knight’s blade to the gut. Bleeding out in the ass-end of Coerthas, turning bright snow to red sludge, while he cursed and swore and made her promise to never do anything so foolish again.

But even if it were different, would she even want to act on it? There’s a queasiness in her stomach whenever a subject like this is raised, a sense that something isn’t right with her. She envies how damn easy it is for others. It’s not about love—she knows what that feels like, and how intensely it can strike—but intimacy. It has always been a barricade, growing larger and more insurmountable with every passing year, not helped by her utter lack of interest in sex.

Sometimes she wonders if it’s too late for her. Even if her feelings on the matter have shifted in recent years, it’s easier to ignore it entirely than admit this humiliating truth.

“Point taken,” Hilda says finally. “I see why you like to drink now.”

Aureia grimaces, bristling at the tone. She shoves a hand into her seat and pushes herself upright. “I—”

A hand brushes her shoulder.

She reacts on instinct. Ripping free of its grasp, she throws herself out of her chair and falls into a defensive stance, hands raised, fingers curled. A messenger in silver and blue stares at her, mouth agape, fear in his eyes.

“Mistress Malathar?” he stammers. “I meant no offense—”

“Announce yourself properly next time,” she snaps, dropping her stance and folding her arms. “What do you want? Which House do you represent?”

“I… uh…” The messenger flushes and stares at his feet, still shaken. The Elezen must be relatively young. Though he is much taller than her, he is gangly and nervous. Oddly, he reminds her of Emmanellain. “May we speak upstairs? The message I bear is not for… well… certain ears.”

Aureia exchanges looks with Hilda. Despite recent advances, some things never change.

“Us lowborn, you mean?” Hilda offers, a dark look in her eye. “Are you that scared of the Brume, boy? You’re gonna have to work on that if you intend to remain a messenger for the Lord Commander.”

Aureia curses inwardly, taking in the messenger’s colours once again. Of course. Temple Knights… The messenger is from Aymeric. She’s had more to drink than she thought and she’s falling into foolishness.

“Seven hells,” Aureia mutters and ushers the boy forward. “Let’s talk upstairs.”

She guides him through the crowd to the foot of the stairs, then clambers up them two at a time. He follows, his armour clinking in her ears, and breathes an audible sigh of relief when they surface on the upper floor.

Leading him into a far corner, she takes up position with her back to the wall and crosses her arms. “Now, then,” she says brusquely. “What is this about?”

The messenger quickly salutes. “Mistress Malathar, I bear a message from Ser Aymeric.”

“Yes. I gathered that. What is it?”

“I… I don’t know. It is here.”

He proffers a letter, stamped and sealed with the insignia of House Borel.

Aureia takes it from his shaking hand, brow furrowed, and flips it over. Aymeric has written her many times, but always in an official capacity as Lord Commander of the Temple Knights. But now he’s using the insignia of his own house… This isn’t official. This is personal.

Her heart clenches. “Is that all?” she asks.

The messenger nods, bowing, and retreats. Aureia watches him go, rubbing the envelope’s luxurious parchment between her fingers, her mind racing. Though part of her wants nothing more than to race down the stairs and return to Hilda’s company and the comfort of her wine, curiosity has set her aflame.

Why the personal message? What does Aymeric want?

Chewing her lower lip, she tears the envelope open and unfolds the letter.

Aureia,    I am loathe to begin with “congratulations are in order” as I am certain you have heard that phrase far too much today. Nevertheless, it is true. This victory was more than a simple triumph in the heat of friendly combat. We have secured Ishgard’s position within the Alliance and safeguarded the course to her future. I cannot say how grateful I am for your involvement. Nor would I have wanted to be the one opposing you on the field of battle! Livia assures me that General Raubahn holds no grievance over the thrashing you gave him. I am told he was beaming with pride at his defeat and has requested a rematch the next time your travels bring you to Ul’dah.    I must apologize for conveying this within a letter. This conversation is ill-suited to the pen—one-sided even, as it leaves no opportunity for your immediate reply—but circumstances allowed us no time for proper conversation once the melee had concluded. Or perhaps I am merely accustomed to writing to you now, given how far your travels now take you from Ishgard.   You recall my somewhat mortifying request for a drink some nights ago? I would ask again. Perhaps more legitimately, this time, and with more grace and sincerity. I did not intend to put you on the spot with my words the last time, and yet I did. I do not begrudge the silence you gave me in return, I was, to put it quite frankly, a fool.    And so I ask again. Please, my dearest friend. Join me for an evening. It would be a delight to spend the night in your company.  

Aureia exhales slowly, staring blankly at the elegant script. A lump forms in her throat, her heart beating rapidly. Aymeric, as always, is far too kind to her. Too thoughtful, too genuine, too damn polite. She doesn’t know why he thinks so highly of her when she is prickly and disagreeable, no charm, no patience, all sharp edges. But their friendship has been tried and tested through more ordeals than she count this past year. He has been the one consistency through it all.

Once she thought it was Thancred who kept her grounded, but then the bloody banquet fractured the Scions and the man he was then is now gone forever. After her flight to Ishgard, Haurchefant was a shining beacon, as dear to her as the brother she never had—and now he is gone, cut down before her very eyes. Estinien was her source of strength in the dark days that followed, their rivalry softening to friendship over the course of their trials. He, too, is now gone, lost to Nidhogg’s rage.  

But Aymeric has remained a firm, resolute presence in her life.

She remembers that day in his office, when he blurted out his initial invitation. She was so shocked, she couldn’t even garble a reply, staring at him with her eyes wide, like a deer facing a hunter. Embarrassment flushed her cheeks not long after and she excused herself, passing through his door with her back perfectly straight, praying that he did not see the colour on her cheeks.

It was only after that she realized he intended it as a friend. A friend. Somehow, that only made her response all the more humiliating…

At least she knows he was as mortified as she was. She can take solace in the fact that they can be fools in equal measure.

Aureia folds the letter and stuffs it in her pocket. She needs to return to her room, write a reply… Or perhaps it would be faster to go to him herself? Then again, there is wine on her breath and she is still sweat stained from the melee. Better to write him. He doesn’t need to see her like this.

She is halfway to her room in the inn when she remembers her staff is on the lower levels. Cursing inwardly, she wheels around and hurries through the tavern, weaving in and out of the crowd. Clattering down the stairs, she makes beeline for her table—

Her staff is there, but Hilda is gone.

Aureia pauses, frowning in confusion as she retrieves her staff and straps it to her back. The messy collection of plates and tankards remain. Even her bottle of wine is there, now emptied. In the centre of the table, the lamp’s candle flickers from a pool of wax, burning down to the stub. Its light glints off Hilda’s carbine, left unattended against the wall. She must be here, somewhere… It’s not like her to forget her weapon.

Grabbing the carbine, she withdraws from the table and casts an eye around the premises. The floor is emptier than before, many of the patrons having found their way outside one way or another. Aureia rounds the tables, searching, but Hilda is nowhere to be found. And she wasn’t upstairs, either… Either she exited to the Brume or she’s elsewhere in the tavern. The Forgotten Knight is filled with pockets of odd space—knotted hallways leading nowhere, oddly-shaped rooms tucked away in the corners or beneath the stairs. There are plenty of places she could have gone. Patrons find their way to them for one reason or another.

Slipping through a door, Aureia paces down a tight, dark hallway, cradling the heavy carbine against her chest. Her throat is dry, her head is aching—she forgot to drink water and now the side-effects of Gibrillont’s miraculous brew raising their ugly heads. She blinks, ignoring her body’s complaints, and pushes on. She can’t leave now. She needs to find Hilda.

“…so you admit it, then?”

“Admit what?”

Voices echo through an open door. Droll and heady, drunk on too much wine and spirits.

“…and here I thought it would take more than that for you to say you felt some affection for me.”

“Affection? Please. Far too strong a word.”

Auriea’s heart leaps into her throat. She freezes in the shadows of the hall, floorboards creaking underfoot. Hilda and Thancred stand together in the adjoining room, their profiles illuminated by the dusty moonlight filtering through the narrow window. His arms are locked around her, pulling her into him. She tilts her chin, a playful smile on her lips, red eyes dancing wickedly. 

“You wound me, my lady,” he says, his lips brushing her cheek.

She smirks. “Not a lady.”

“To me you are.”

“Oh, please. Is that what you tell all the women in your life or did you truly expect a line like that to work on me?”

He kisses her, fierce and desperate. She melts into it, her fingers scraping the sides of his face, his jaw, pulling him into her. His fingers brush her ear, tentatively cupping the point, and thread through her hair. He releases it from its tail and the dark waves fall free, flowing over her shoulders and shadowing her face like a curtain. She chuckles huskily and shoves him back against the wall. He grunts and seizes her, lifting her up. She wraps her legs around him and allows him to spin them around.

Hilda pulls back from his kiss, face flushed and eyes wild, and scrapes her fingers through his hair. “You sure about this?” she asks huskily, lips pressed against his ear. “Don’t mistake me for her. Because I’m not.”

He freezes, his arms going stiff. “I am here for you. Only you.”

“Good. Just wanted to be clear—”

He kisses her, pinning her to the wall, his mouth on hers, still kissing, always kissing. She presses against him, her hands wandering, reaching, urgent, desperate—

Aureia tears her eyes away, cheeks flushed with the heat of anger and humiliation. She stoops, setting the carbine against the doorframe, and stalks down the hall. She doesn’t care if the floor creaks, if they hear her footsteps, if they know she was there. Chances are they never noticed. Chances are they will never know.

Bitter tears pang in the corners of her eyes. Seven hells, why is she crying? Why does she care so much? They are her friends. She should be happy if they’ve managed to find some solace in each other, gods know they’ve needed it. It’s not like she could give it to them herself, what with the way she is. Even if she wanted to, it’s too much.

Too much.

She kicks the hallway door open and storms through the tavern, scattering the remaining patrons in front of her. Gibrillont catches her eye when she storms up the stairs and quickly retreats. He knows better than to interfere. He know he must leave her be.

Aureia is certain she will become a snivelling mess when she finds privacy. But when she reaches her room, the tears refuse to fall. The best she can do is lay on her bed, staring numbly into the silver of moonlight dancing across her floor, and let her symptoms take her. She will welcome the hangover tomorrow. No matter how bad it is, it is nothing compared to the pain and isolation she feels tonight.

Aymeric’s letter remains folded in her pocket, all but forgotten.

[fisherrprince]

Oh hey! Welcome to stormblood :D! So, how are your overall opinions of Heavensward now that you're one the cusp of new expansion?

Hello hello! /bow

I liked it!! I liked it quite a lot I think, but I definitely think the best parts were about the dragons (the first half of base expansion with Ysayle and then 3.2-3 with Nidhogg and Hraesvelgr and Estinien) (I got sad when we left Ysayle :( ) — which, admittedly, is probably because I really love dragons. But it’s also I think structured more engagingly, I was really interested in what everyone had to say and react to. I think I stopped to talk to almost everyone anytime I could, and I really want to remember to look at item descriptions because they have TEXT in them and sometimes they’re FUNNY.. The dungeons got progressively cooler too :D

I wasn’t quite as interested in the allagans this time (or the pope I kept forgetting about him— to be honest the ishgardian half of the story was really interesting as it contributed to the whole of the story, I love how the writers are handling the complexity of human conflict and rage thus far, but I found that chasing down the pope at the end took quite a while because we also had the scions stuff in there too, which was more interesting, and I think the amount of interest just conflicted with the pacing. If I look at Heavensward without the post patch quests it has very odd pacing but with them it’s perfectly fine.) (but also the — what’sit the whale primal trial — I’ve heard is disliked but I found it really really fascinating when I did it for the first time! Maybe because it’s novel) (and also while I LOVE the hand that gives the rose, I cannot get behind unbending steel. I can’t tell if people are joking when they say it’s one of the best songs. I don’t… like it, it sounds goofy to me), but that’s also just because Azys Lla is, all offense to allag, butt ugly?? The Crystal Tower is so pretty how did you create this narsty place. Bring me back to G’raha. I also think the interjections with the Ul’dahn syndicate early on were hit or miss entirely, sometimes very satisfying and investing and sometimes I just… I don’t like the wizard lady or her wizard hat.

anyways, Hilda is my new friend, I like her. I, um, don’t think I got as attached to haurchefant as many others did, but I appreciate how well-written a good death scene is, I do. And I really felt like we got to see way more (and deeper and better-articulated) character personality and interaction than we did in arr! I liked that!!! We had little flavor text jokes everywhere! I like my friends tataru and alphinaud and although I will have to decline Aymeric’s request for a date, I would love to hang out. I will be going on a date with Vidofnir. I want to see more of where dragons actually, like, live.

also both the “final battles” were very very cool. Like immensely cool I think I legit cackled to myself a couple times (hraesvelgr’s eye being one of them) thank u dragons everyone say thank you dragons. Also everyone say thank you to soken and uematsu. And the cinematic animators. And the fight designers. And

and — I’m not sure where post-heavensward stops and pre-stormblood begins, but I assume it ends with nidhogg and starts with the warriors of darkness? in that case I’ll hold my opinions of pre-stormblood since I’m not done. bless it for having alisaie leveilleur. goodnight

[alannah-corvaine]

Hello! In regards to the shipping meme you just posted, can you answer 32 please? And maybe 6?

Ship and OC Relationship Creative Process Asks

6. How easy do you find it to write (or otherwise portray) non-sexual affection between characters? This might include terms of endearment, “pet-names���, descriptions of cuddling or stroking the other’s head in their lap etc.

In some ways it's much easier to write general affection (physical, verbal, or otherwise) than anything sexual because I don't have to try to think of flowery metaphors or euphemisms for what's going on when I don't feel like being explicit or crude (which is more often than not). I mean, I'll still use plenty of purple prose for it, but it feels less like I'm trying to put a mask on it and more like just trying to find ways to amplify the emotion of the moment.

32. If you ship your OC with a particular canon character, then what was it about that character that drew you to them? Is it that you have a certain “type” when it comes to shipping? Or did you surprise yourself with who you felt drawn towards? If your OC is in a relationship with another OC then did you change any aspects of either of their backstories or personalities to make this work?

So I didn't really actively start to ship Alannah with Ardbert until Shadowbringers was announced and it was revealed that we'd be seeing the Warriors of Darkness again. With that said, the confrontation at the Bowl of Embers in patch 3.4 is my favorite scene in the game, and Ardbert's "We Did Everything Right" monologue was 100% my oh it's you moment and still lives rent free in my head, but at the time I was shipping Alannah with another OC and so the idea of putting her together with Ardbert kind of stayed in the back of my head as just an AU for several years.

I love Ardbert as a character and Joe Dempsie did a phenomenal job putting so much emotion into his performance, even as far back as Heavensward. But what I love about the ship is that Ardbert feels like the one person who is on equal footing with the Warrior of Light in terms of both power and the emotional weight of the pressures they carry. That combination is absolute catnip to me, but also like...mage x warrior battle couple.

I might try to fight it at times, but jocky sad warrior men with emotional intelligence is for sure one of my two primary types.

@reassambled-dragoon thank you for the ask!!

[quinn-borel]

Who felt romantic feelings first?

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

What would their lives be like if they had never met?

Who felt romantic feelings first?

Scholars (myself) still are perplexed to this day which Borel caught feelings first.  When did Quinn’s lustful pining turn into genuine romantic feelings?  When did Aymeric’s manipulative use of people turn into genuine thoughts of wanting to spend his life with that person?  It’s hard to tell.  There were little pips of romantic feelings on Aymeric’s end that he brushed off during the main events of Heavensward, while Quinn’s romantic feelings for Aymeric as she watched over him post-Vault (fic to come soon) in the infirmary could be argued as her trying to push Haurchefant’s death out of her mind.  We (myself) simply are perplexed and need to replay Heavensward to really pinpoint where the true romantic feelings really hit!

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

Oh, Y E S.  Very much so.  When Aymeric did feel those romantic feelings for Quinn he did all that he could to push them back because of his station and the fact that he felt unworthy of the Warrior of Light’s companionship.  He toiled about it for months during the main events of HW and even patch-HW. 

Quinn, on the other hand, hadn’t felt romantic feelings for someone since ARR with Thancred (early ARR, right before his Laha possession).  (To put it into perspective for my canon timeline, that’s like 4 years.)  When she thought about genuinely spending time with Aymeric and had that inner calling to stay by his side, she was torn and confused.  His ascension to a city-state leader also didn’t help her and she tried to resist as best as she could because of his station. 

What would their lives be like if they had never met?

If Aymeric was delegated to only speaking with, say, Alphinaud during the events of Post-ARR/HW and Quinn stayed off to the side, then I could see events themselves playing out as normal but Quinn never growing out of her ARR antics.  She would continue to sleep around, drink, and be merry but never really finding happiness.  Even with Thancred coming back in patch-HW content, he’s a different person and she could never see them being an item again. 

Further down the timeline, come Shadowbringers, she would have probably succumbed to the light without having much to ground her to fight for.  And even if she survived that, Endwalker she would have surely turned into a blasphemy for the same reason.

Her love for Aymeric ties further into her love for the star.  He opens her eyes to the beauty of the world and the people who are worth fighting for. 

Maybe, maybe, Thancred could fill that role, but he has his own baggage and his own wobbly sense of hope.

On Aymeric’s end, we know from EW Caster Role Quests he would have turned into a Blasphemy had it not been for the WoL, so there’s that 😊

[dainesanddaffodils]

Was so exciting to finish a new expansion with everybody! lizard had so many new characters to Feel Things about! So here's another post of her character feelings!!

(I’ll also do this again post-patches but since I now have to do the waiting thing again I want to do this now lol)

Thoughts post-ARR | Thoughts post-Heavensward | Thoughts post-Stormblood | Thoughts post-Shadowbringers | Thoughts post-Endwalker

And now, without further ado, Cimorene Greystone’s post-Dawntrail relationship vibes!!

Wuk Lamat - Cimorene cares about her and wants nothing but good things for her. That said, she also kinda holds herself at arms length because she doesn’t want to become… essential to Tural’s leadership if that makes sense. It's how she is with all leaders in her life (see: Aymeric). With all the love in her heart, no, she won't be on your council.

Erenville - sad. I wish Cimorene could say more than that but truly, she just feels so much sadness for this bun. She hopes he finds peace and joy in adventuring because honestly no one deserves it more than him.

Krile - Cimorene has always loved her so much and considered her family but had never, like, felt comfortable enough to really tell her that. She sure did after this expansion and everything that went down there. Had a nice long talk and cry about it. Krile's now probably one of her closest friends.

Alphinaud - lowkey a little miffed that, even while on the same team, the two of them were usually pulled different directions and she didn’t get to have Heavensward Roadtrip pt. II with him. It was giving 'baby brother is all grown up' vibes and she's not ready for that lmao She's always glad to have him around when she can.

Alisaie - forgot that she’s so feisty when she doesn’t have the weight of the world on her shoulders. Cimorene loves that for her and wound up bonding with her a lot more than expected. Was really glad that she and Wuk Lamat could bond, too, as she felt that kind of friendship was more what Wuk Lamat needed and she herself didn't think she could provide.

Urianger - genuinely the (albeit shortlived) friendly competition of the rite of succession put them on better terms than they ever were in earlier expansions. She actually considers him a good friend now. Wild.

Thancred - similar to the above. she had a better relationship with him going in than she did with Uriagner but it still has to be said that this is the closest she's ever felt to him. She's loved catching him grow more comfortable with being a mentor.

Estinien - while she would absolutely love traveling with him, don’t get her wrong, randomly encountering each other while on their own journeys was already where they intended to take the relationship so she’s quite happy with how it played out (though I will say they did spend more time together than canon says lmao - namely, they spent a night in Tuliyollal before he went wandering again and the rite fully kicked off)

(He... maybe also knocked her up then but she learns that very very late in game and they haven’t talked about it yet lmao)

G'raha - Still not her closest personal friend, per se, but she trusts and respects him a lot and so him showing up after the attack on Tuliyollal really put her mounting fears at (relative) ease. Similarly grateful for his presence during her time in Heritage Found and Living Memory. He helped ground her.

Y'shtola - was ALSO really glad to have Y'shtola around when shit started to really hit the fan. That's her emotional support archon now and always. hoping to chat more with her about weird shard fusion nonsense in the patches *crosses fingers*

Koana - He was so engimatic at first that it took a minute for Cimorene to trust him, even when he started opening up, but by the time he forfitted being a claiment to help his sister, she was won over. She's still not like, close friends with him by any means, but she thinks he's a good man and trusts him to be a good ruler.

Galool Ja Ja - speaking of good men and good rulers, Cimorene loved this man so much! Getting to have a friendly sparring match with him was an absolute fucking delight and losing him brought back very stong memories of losing her dad. It was. rough.

Zoraal Ja - we were rooting for you we were all rooting for you how dare you! she really did want to give him the benefit of the doubt during the rite, especially when he joined in the trial, but she also didn't spare a second before switching to Kill Mode after he murdered Galool Ja Ja. She does not take well to patricide.

Bakool Ja Ja - was also giving him the benefit of the doubt and was this time correct in doing so! she doesn't necessarily like him, and understands he reaaaalllly fucked up, but she also saw how messed up his whole... life is, and is glad to see he's being given a chance to make better choices - and seems to be taking them.

Otis - 10/10 robot-man of all time. Reminds Cimorene of her late husband so much (so much so that I the player hc that he's a shard of Haurchefant). Cares him and really wishes she could have gotten to know him better.

Sphene - not to, uh, sound like Mister Emet Selch but Cimorene never really considered Sphene to be... Alive necessarily (in so much as she was aware that there once was a Sphene and this Sphene was her memories but also Preservation's programming overriding much of who Real Sphene was and what she wanted) and so she focused mostly on making sure she couldn't harm anyone outside Alexandria. When that didn't - and seemingly couldn’t - work, she didn't really have qualms about ending her un-life.

[the-corner-window]

Endwalker: A Retrospective (1/2)

Final Fantasy XIV's most recent expansion "Endwalker" has been a big point of conversation within the community for some time since its release back on December 3rd, 2021. It released to high critical acclaim as the summation of a ten year long saga within one of the most popular MMORPGs available on the market today. I want to look back at the long walk to the end before we blaze a new trail unto the dawn. As someone who's logged several thousand hours over the course of my journey throughout Etheirys I've finished many quests, ran a majority of the content (excluding Ultimates, in due time...), and met a wide range of folks sinking time into one of my favorite games. First off, we dive right into the Main Scenario Questline, hereon referred to as the "MSQ". Most of anything the expansion entails requires you to have conquered the arduous journey the game lays out before you. The production quality of the MSQ is well above where it started, and the increase in quality of the cinematic direction, the voice acting, and the narrative intrigue have all played into making Endwalker truly feel like the culmination of all that came before it. The emotional beats hit hard in some spots, and there's a good mix of light-heartedness in between momentous crescendos that act as a sort of palate cleanser to keep things from becoming strenuous or overbearing for an expansion story the length of a standalone single player RPG. I want to refrain from going into much detail in consideration of those players that have yet to complete the MSQ, but there were a few scenes that actually choked me up, and I'm not typically one to get emotional consuming media. Though that can be said for the base Endwalker MSQ, or the "6.0" content, there was something lackluster about the narrative that followed the climax that felt weaker in comparison. The quality is still there, and in some ways they showcased more of what I hope we get to experience in Dawntrail, however nothing about the more isolated adventure really had me buzzing off the same high as some of the previous post-patch story content such as within Shadowbringers or Heavensward. I do hope that we see some payoff in content down the line, perhaps in the next expansion or even further out, but as of now it felt like getting a lukewarm brownie as a dessert after eating a perfectly seasoned steak. That may seem a bit harsh, but I did still enjoy the brownie. On the topic of the endgame however, I must admit I'm speaking in near isolation since I was a much more casual player before Endwalker released. The encounters ranging from Extreme Trials to Savage Raiding feel really solid, if a bit intense at times. Raiding has been my primary focus in the game for nearly 2 years at this point aside from MSQ completion and it's been fun, but frustrating. Having done some of the more mid-tier content in Stormblood and Shadowbringers such as Eureka, Bozja, and Ishgardian Restoration, the options available to me in the post-patches of Endwalker seemed to amount to either Savage Raiding or using a spreadsheet to upgrade my Island Sanctuary which isn't my favorite kind of content by any means. I had no real drive to push through the new Criterion Dungeons since there was nothing they offered that I felt worth the hassle of pursuing, and Deep Dungeons have never been my favorite content so I've gotten little time in with the new Eureka Orthos. In the end, here just weeks away from Dawntrail's release, my biggest drive to log in is getting my alternative Jobs I've neglected up to the current max level, meeting new people through the more social aspects of the game such as visiting player-run venues, and running PvP activities to finish off my Series.

[voidsentprinces]

Think I dislike Stormblood because it gets off on the wrong foot with me. My suspension of disbelief is ruined by Zenos particularly. We fought multiple power primals and wyrms of the First Brood but somehow this one dude waltzes in and is stronger than us. Plus the padding. We cannot save Ala Mhigo now or the story will be over lets go to Doma to save it now back to Ala Mhigo where we got full on movies of cutscenes between various dialogues until finally we reach the end of the weirdest utilized zone of the Lochs. And Doma who went to save so we could get aid with the liberation doesn't show up til the last minute. Then the post Stormblood dances between Gyr Albania and the Far East but feels like it doesn't know what its doing. Until the narrative throws its hand up and is like alright War at a stalemate, your friends are spirited away. Lets move onto Shadowbringers. To this day Stormblood feels like two half ideas glued together and is lesser for it somehow.

So, suspension of disbelief broken, rough pacing, ill use of well talked about lands, a very very weirdly placed last third, and the second third being called into question when we only see the results at literally the tail end. Meandering around for a Post-Patch before the narrative seems to want to wash its hands of the experience and take us to another world instead. Which feels exactly like entering Heavensward which felt like we were starting on a blank slate from the bloat and meandering of ARR. Its like I can FEEL the brick wall of writing being hit in Stormblood's various juggling narratives. While trying to string along uprising, revolution and the breaking the chains of tyranny. But it also feels like no even Garlemald wants to be in Ala Mhigo or Doma as much as both states people want them there.

And then Zenos pretty much sits around for the entire narrative. Until the...very quoteable but lackluster final instanced battle of Endwalker. After he's been dangled as a carrot in front of us for two whole expansions and like one in half post patch cycles.

A Realm Reborn and Stormblood feel ROUGH to me.

While Heavensward feels like gliding across a smooth bed. Shadowbringers has a couple bumps in its bed labeled "Ran'jit" but otherwise feels like a nice smooth experience too. Endwalker...I dunno. Over time I feel less and less enamored with it. It also feels like the first two thirds are meant to be climaxes to Post-Patches but like...form Elpis onward is the actual expansion somehow.

Wonder what Dawntrail will feel like.

[zeloinator]

What is the biggest challenge that your OC has had to overcome in a long-term relationship or friendship? What helped them get through this?

Ahhh I'm sorry this has taken me so so long to answer >.< this questions really like unlocked a floodgate in my brain and now all I can think about is Zee and Erenville bein cute! Thank you so so so much for this ask!! <3

When Zee and the Scions were betrayed back in ARR/Heavensward, alongside a heavy dose of past betrayal centric trauma, it stopped Zee from letting herself be truly vulnerable with others. Her only option, in her mind, is to create an impenetrable wall around her heart and never let anyone make her that weak again. And, well, Heavensward changed all of that. A loyal knight, always trying to show his loyalty, respect, care for her but never able to get through as Zee couldn't help but expect yet another betrayal. She found out much too late just how much he fully meant every word, and she gave her leg in attempts to prevent his kindness from going unanswered. Zee smiling for Haurchefant before he passed was all she could do.

After his death Zee really struggle, the first time she goes into a rage being directly after this. As a White Mage Zee was able to patch herself up just enough, fast enough to be able to confront the archbishop, what she was not expecting was to be driven into a bloodrage (Warrior skills bleeding into White Mage sort of deal~) and defeated him. This rage bled into her battles, and her friendships as she became easily frustrated and extremely focused on what others needed her to do. She became closer to the Scions during this, but it was obviously a struggle for Zee to learn to trust in friends again, an even harder to allow others to get closer to her and her to them in turn. Battling Zenos, exactly what she doesn't want to turn into, helped her loosen herself around her companions. The rage starting tore down that internal wall around her heart in a very destructive manner. Now Zee was forcing herself to not go down either the isolating or the destructive route. Zenos is a surprisingly big help in getting her to where she is now post Endwalker.

Skip a bit to Endwalker to Zee's embarrassing meeting of Erenville, his intrigue of Zee and impulsive asking her to talk with him more over a meal or drinks when she is able. And, most importantly, her impulsive yes. He didn't mean in an 'asking out' sense, he just knew he needed to talk with her more. Zee enjoyed how normal she felt around him in their initial meeting she couldn't help her own curiosity towards Erenville. Zee at this point had never been in any sort of relationship, she is the type of person that flirting goes directly over her head. She needs someone who will tell her directly. Erenville is exactly that type of person, and one who can ignore the weight of the Warrior of Light title she carries.

[demonio-fleurs]

Finished the Stormblood MSQ last night!

I have mixed emotions. I understand why people say that Stormblood isn’t necessarily bad, just one of the weaker expansions. People liken it to ARR, but honestly I think I felt more at the end of ARR than I did for Stormblood. There were a lot of really great moments at the end, seeing the Eorzean Alliance come together was really nice and showed a lot of progression since ARR. Plus, having Aymeric/Ishgard & Hien/Doma there really helps you feel the effect you’re having on the world.

But… At the end of the day, I felt more emotion towards Raubahn and Pipin’s part in the final assault than I did Lyse’s, and I don’t think that’s necessarily a reflection or criticism of her character, but more a reflection on how the story failed her. I really don’t think Lyse should have been revealed during the post-Heavensward MSQ’s, because there wasn’t as much build up in her desire to help the revolution in Gyr Abania. It just kinda happened, and while it might have felt much better paced as the patches were releasing, when you’re able to play it all within the span of only a few days it feels like it just comes out of nowhere. There was a lot that I think could have been done differently to make it feel more natural, and to also make us more invested.

I mean, hell, I felt more emotion finding out that Gosetsu was alive than I did when we finally got to the ending! Like hell yeah buddy I can’t wait to give you a big ol’ hug!

Overall, I did enjoy Stormblood, it just didn’t leave me with the same feeling that the end of Heavensward did. Excited to get through the post-Stormblood MSQ and finally sink my teeth into Shadowbringers (And therefore the NieR content!!!!!!!!)

[sylvyspritii]

I feel BIG FOMO from FFXIV not gonna lie

Listen i TRIED playing the game

It's just not that good guys???

Dare I say, garbage?

You can't even move while casting most spells (and yes i akready slidecast all the time), something which has been solved for years in games like Guild Wars 2

Most of Realm Reborn (which is what I had to endure for like a 100 hours) is garbage, and while there are some really cool moments in the post RR patch content, when I got to Heavensward, I just felt so burned out, i haven't finished Heavensward yet

But it annoys me when people around me are like "oooo Shadowbringers is so good it will change your life, trust me, I gets good 100 hours in"

WELL I'M 100 HOURS IN AND I FELT LIKE I JUST WASTED 100 HOURS OF MY LIFE BASICALLY

ALSO FUCK THE COMPANY OF HEROES IN PARTICULAR

(And also, Hildibrand Manderville is except from this criticism, as he is the light in the darknes and the ultimate lifeform, and also that elf guy is really cool too, Hauchifaunt or something?)

[yakdeculture]

Final Fantasy XIV: Endwalker Review

The 4th expansion to A Realm Reborn and a culmination to the story up to that point. Y’all ff14 don’t play about spoilers so I’m not even gonna say what’s goin on in there but some crazy shit is going down and its up to you to solve it.

Do you like my character? That;s Spice World on Famfrit you can add me if you want I mostly play Dancer but I also like astrologian dragoon and pictomancer I’m gonna level samurai and reaper too though. Anyways so I first started playing ff14 like right after high school so like probably right after Stromblood came out maybe what would that be like 4.1? Something like that? Anyways that’s when I started played and I played pretty consistently up through the patch before Endwalker I think by then I was already pretty burnt out and wasn’t logging in that much but like I hadn’t even finished the last like few quests in post Shadowbringers when I quit. I had logged in like a few times when there was like free time or whatever since then and now but literally the only thing I did was visit my friends little animal crossing island. But with Dawntrail coming out a lot of people on the TL were getting back into it so I said fuck it why not. A lot of the things I don’t like about this game/don’t really appeal to me is still true I’m not a fan of the postgame content structure in the sense that like I frankly just don’t care about raiding and like unlocking extreme trials I just don’t care. I don’t see the appeal of doing just a Fight You Already Did But Watch Out Because Some of These AOEs are Crazier. And I think it can take up too much time of like your social life this is true of all MMOS but this is like the only one most sane people would even think to care about. But like its a similar deal to gatcha games but if instead there being like 15 minutes worth of dailies there are like up to 4 hours worth of dailies depending on how invested you are in the game and thats just insane to me and I’m the kind of person who would do MSQ roulette back when that shit took like 30 to 40 minutes every time before the ARR update.

Anyways let me actually talk about the Endwalker MSQ this review only covers up to the actual end of the MSQ I haven’t started the real postgame yet. THERE ARE SPOILERS OF ENDWALKER AFTER THIS POINT if you are like me and stopped playing or are newer to the game or something. So personally honestly up until like level 83 and you go to the moon and do the trial and shit the story really just feels like more postgame patch stuff where its like sure you are progressing the story and you even visit new places but you don’t really do anything there and you leave before anything interesting can happen and garlemald is basically empty (fine I guess kind of funny though) but like I think around 65 after the dungeon it starts picking up again and then you go to Elpis and then after that its basically all peak I think Shadowbringers story is more consistent but Endwalker peaks higher. Also I should say I like Heavensward significantly less than most people I just do not fuck with most of the characters (Harchefant) and I think its annoying how like most of the story is everyone telling Ysayle hows shes a fucking idiot stupid loser and shes wrong and bad and then it turns out she was was more right then everybody else and then she kills herself so a guy who hasn’t taken a shower in his entire life can join the main cast. And then when Vrtra comes out to people at Radz at Han they have the fucking gall to be like [flashback of Ysyals] we did it buddy! Y’ALL WERE NOT HER FRIEND Y’ALL TREATED HER LIKE SHIT. But I have to give them serious credit because in Shadowbringers I thought the Armout shit and like Emet’s whole deal was fucking stupid granted this is because I already did not like the Ascains up to that point so it just kind of felt like they were like were just pivoting and making them something they weren’t but ultimately they really fleshed it out in Endwalker and like it really did tie it all together I do have to give them credit for that. It’s funny bc I forgot Hydoleathaeus (not checking how to spell his name) was a character you met multiple times so the time in the section I was is it gonna be like some twist like this fucking twink was actually somebody else the whole time but no he was just the friendly guy you met a couple of times. Zenos is also really funny in this expac its hilarious they brought him back and then it was like barely for any reason at all other than to have a few epics moments and then kill him again in a way thats like okay try bringing this mf back again I dare you to find a way. The ending was very Marcoss 7 so I appreciated that. Honestly I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed the story especially because of how it started out. Not to be thing Japan but I played every other expac on English voices but I just can’t listen to the british shit again so I switched to JP and it was so good.

postpatch review

If this was any other set of post game patches I wouldn’t do a review for them because usually frankly pretty much all the post expansion story before this point goes like this

X.1: Filler

X.2: Filler but then something happens in the last quest

X.3 actual story

X.4: Filler but you notice they keep bringing up some location name constantly

X.5: Somee boss fight that makes the scions decide they gotta go take a trip to the next expac location

This time they decided to actually have a real story that actually had time to develop. I enjoyed this one a lot but also part of that is because Zero was so hot that I could ignore the fact that they had like 50 different scenes where someone explained like the concept of trust or friendship or hanging out or whatever to her and she did her stupid fucking fedora thing and went … like look I get it and I like it but its like obnoxious at this point. We all get we get what you are doing you don’t have to do this same thing over and over again. I understand most ff14 players struggle to interpret information beyond going in and then out to dodge aoes and are not equipped to handle actual character writing but they will never grow or improve their literacy rates if you don’t give them the chance.

But genuinely this was like the first time I enjoyed reading or doing post game stuff since like. The Yotsuyu stuff in Stormblood. Probably won’t start Dawntrail for a while (my sub ran out and down feel like renewing) but it seems cool from the little story preview I like that Wuk Lamat’s introducing is like patting Graha’s back and since he’s a weak little beta chud he almost breaks all his bones in his body recoiling from her powerful aura and then he immediately annnounces he will not be going on the adventure with us like thank fucking god get this catboy FREAK out of my sight.

[myreia]

Divergence of the Heart

CHAPTER SIX: PROMISES KEPT, PROMISES MADE

Chapter Rating: Mature (full story rating is Explicit) Characters: Aureia Malathar (WoL), Aymeric de Borel, Thancred Waters, Hilda Ware Pairings: Aureia/Aymeric, Aureia/Thancred, Thancred/Hilda Chapter Words: 7,625 Notes: Set during the Heavensward patches. Summary: Aureia Malathar may have made a name for herself in Ishgard, but her deeds come with a hefty personal toll. Despite her victories at the Grand Melee she has never felt more unsure of herself. Her relationship with Thancred—the person she thought knew her the best—is strained, yet she cannot abandon him. Aymeric is falling for her harder with each passing day, yet she cannot bring herself to accept it. All may be fair in love and war, but at least war is predictable. Love on the other hand… Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 Read on AO3

Aureia sips at her wine, barely cognizant of the smooth, rich flavour flooding her mouth, distracted as she is by Aymeric. Friendship, he proposed, but it is more than that and they both know it. Something better left unnamed for now. She doubts either of them know where this evening will end, but to be frank, she would rather not think on it. She wants nothing more than to enjoy her time here in his company, without distraction or worry.

The food is as good as it smells, featuring dishes she knows and more that she doesn’t. The last time she had a meal this fine Raubahn lost an arm, but she has a feeling the limbs of all attendees to this dinner are safe tonight. She bites her tongue, refraining from making the joke. Even with a glass and a half in her system, she’s not a fool enough to overshadow the evening with memories of the bloody banquet.

Aymeric is more talkative than she has ever seen him. Of course he is habitually loquacious, rivalling only Urianger for the amount of words he can squeeze into a sentence before running out of breath, but the way he relaxes over the course of dinner brings a smile to her face. The politician is always simmering underneath, but the more their conversation wanders, the less present he becomes. So rarely have they had the chance to talk about topics unrelating to war or politics, she knows she is seeing a side of him he rarely shares with others, if at all.

She knows the feeling all too well. Idle chatter about unimportant things isn’t something she’s used to even among friends. Outside of Tataru’s company, that is. Then again, Tataru makes it a point for her to talk about non-world-ending events on pain of death, so maybe that doesn’t count.

This is good. For both of you.

“…would that I could have seen such a momentous event,” he says, his eyes sparkling with interest. “Thank you, truly—”

“Wouldn’t have been a problem if it wasn’t so bloody cold,” she replies with mock sarcasm. “Why is it so cold here? Is it always so cold?”

“Ah.” He pauses, lowering his fork. “It has been this way for some seven years now. Ever since the Calamity overrode the land with frost and fury.”

“Oh.” She flushes, pressing her lips together. She should have known that; or, at the very least, put two and two together. This side of the world was ravaged by horrors she could only imagine from the safety of her post in Ilsabard when Dalamud fell from the sky. “What was it like before?”

A strange expression falls over his face, lost in thought. Whatever memory he is retreading resonates with fondness and loss. “Green valleys and rolling hills, so vibrant in their colours no painting could capture them,” he says quietly. “Lakes clear as glass reflecting skies of pure azure. I remember there were small periwinkle flowers that bloomed in abundance near Whitebrim Font. My mother… the viscountess… She was very fond of them. Now that I come to think of it, I cannot remember their name.”

He pauses and glances across the table at her, the memory subsiding. “I am certain any botanist could tell you the extent of what was lost far more keenly than I,” he continues conversationally. “A whole land irrevocably changed. We cannot return to what we have lost, but perhaps we can look to what we have gained. A new land sprung up beneath our very feet. In time, who knows what will come to call these snowbound highlands home? As destructive as the Calamity was, I would consider it rebirth rather than destruction. For Coerthas was not destroyed. We remain.”

She smiles. “I like that.”

He returns the smile and reaches for the decanter, refilling his glass. “I suspect you will admonish me for this, yet I must admit I have the desire to apologize for our inclement weather, as far outside my control as it is.”

Aureia snorts, unable to hide her laughter. “Don’t,” she says and pushes her glass across the table. Not necessary, perhaps, but why shouldn’t she be indulgent when in the company of friends? “There’s comfort in it. Familiarity. Predictable, if you know what you’re getting into, what to expect, and come prepared. Too many Eorzeans balk at a little snow.”

“Speaking from personal experience, I presume?”

“It’s not exactly a climate the city-states are used to, no. Three years on this continent and I’ve yet to see genuine snowfall outside of Gridania. It’s funny to think I would have had an easier time adjusting had I found my way to Ishgard rather than Ul’dah. Thanalan was unbearable after Ilsabard. I’m used to snow, not heat. The desert was suffocating enough outside the city, but inside? Like being trapped in a hothouse.”

He pauses, gripping the decanter, and a strange look crosses his face. Too late she realizes the implications of what she has said, the conclusion he must have come to. She flinches, mind whirling as she grasps at any explanation that will do, truth be damned. It’s not that she wants to lie to him—of course she doesn’t, she never has, the thought of it makes her sick to her stomach—but that she can’t bring him into her past. It is not a place she is willing to go with him. He doesn’t deserve to suffer in those trenches with her.

“I take it you spent time in northern Ilsabard, then,” he says carefully and tips the decanter, the deep red liquid pouring out in a rush.  

She swallows the lump in her throat, her eyes drawn to his hands. He fills the glass near to the brim and pulls back. A bead of wine bubbles at the lip, clinging to the edge. It falls, the spot splotching the tablecloth. A single crimson spot on a sea of white. Like blood in the snow, Coerthan, Garlean, or otherwise.

Trust him. You have to trust him. If you can’t trust him, you can’t trust anyone.

“I did,” she says finally. “I was there for many years.”

Aymeric sets the decanter down. “The Imperial capital?” he asks.

“Close to it.” Her throat is raw. A lie, of a sorts. Stationed there for a time, but on the outskirts. She never stepped foot in the Imperial palace or the districts that composed the true capital. She may have been born within Garlemald’s borders, but people like her were never considered as such. They would never let a non-native like her, with dangerous magic coursing in her veins, closer than that. “Long enough to adapt. Eorzeans think Garlemald is bitter and unforgiving, but they do not know the half of it. It is far more than the cold and the ice. There is no survival if you are unprepared.”

“I have heard similar when Lucia has seen fit to speak of it. You have all my respect and more, Aureia—” He cuts himself short, laughing awkwardly as he quickly corrects himself. “Of course you always have—I didn’t mean to say that I did not before—but knowing this, even in the smallest capacity, knowing what trials you must have faced on your journey here…”

You don’t know. You have no idea. The bitterness of the thought takes her by surprise and shame flushes her cheeks. How could he know any different? He must be imagining some grand escape by yet another defector with too much good in their heart to endure living in a tyrannical nation. Not an operative with too much blood on her hands, who fled for selfish reasons.

Avoiding his gaze, Aureia reaches for her glass and disappears behind it, taking a long drink. Aymeric exhales a long breath and runs a hand over his chin, lost in thought. If her behaviour is odd to him, he either has not noticed or thinks nothing of it.

“Aureia, may I confess something?” he says after a moment.

She lowers the glass and nods.

“For countless decades Garlemald has been an enemy to all nations upon this star. But oft I have wondered where we would stand had history shown us a gentler hand, one of collaboration and cooperation rather than one of ruthless war. What could we have learned from Garlean expertise had the few not corrupted the many with tyrannical ideals and gluttonous expansionism? What could they have learned from us?”

He leans against the table and holds his gaze to hers, his eyes blazing with passion. How long has he been withholding these thoughts, waiting for the right person to tell? Someone he trusts irrevocably? “Ishgard has its own bloody history, a fanatical fabrication upheld by the very souls charged with her protection while they bled her people dry. As Ishgard recovers, I am left to wonder whether the cycles we have suffered here are not also in play in a land like Garlemald. As our nation has been isolated from the brutality of their war by virtue of being preoccupied by another, I would dare utter this before the Alliance when our coalition is so young and untested. But I believe there is a mirror in our greatest enemy, one that reflects a terrible truth we see in ourselves.”

“I don’t know if many would agree with you,” Aureia replies grimly. “It’s an empire. It’s not a place you can forgive.”

“I do not speak of forgiveness. They have harmed and will continue to harm the world greatly. But to paint every citizen who lives beneath their banners with the same broad stroke does not sit well with me. It would be the height of hypocrisy after what Ishgard herself has partaken in.”

“Perhaps.”

“I am not a faultless man, Aureia, I know this to be true more than anyone. I still have much to learn. But if there is one lesson that has remained with me throughout my time in command, it is that leadership does always speak for the people. Those with power will always have an agenda at play, for good or for ill. I will not condemn civilians for the place of their birth. When they have been shown no other path than one that has led to dogmatic beliefs and unquestioned chauvinism, perhaps they are as much victims of their government’s regime as those who have fallen to Garlemald’s might.”

“And those who are not civilians?” The question is out of her mouth before she can stop herself. “In a future where the Alliance wars with Garlemald and the Empire is brought to its knees, what grace would you extend to those you fought on the battlefield? Would you see them as victims worthy of help or perpetrators deserving of punishment?”

“That is a difficult question. One that has no easy answer.”

What would do you, Aymeric, if you knew? That I was one of those very people.

“I would like to hear it.”

“Then I would say I have none. For war only muddies the waters, never cleanses it. We know all too well how the annals of history are written in the hand of the victor. There are casualties on both sides of any war. If we are to judge our enemies by the harshest laws, then we must look to our own leadership and judge them by the same standards.”

She blinks, uncertain what to say, and looks down, chasing the remnants of her meal across her plate. The evening’s conversation has led them in a direction she didn’t predict. And all from a discussion about the weather…

The again, Aymeric’s sincerity has struck her deeply. She has never known anyone like him, really. His unshaking resolve paired with his unflinching acknowledgement of his own flaws… He has a capacity to see the good in people without excusing terrible actions. What he has told her tonight will stay with her for a long time.

“I apologize.”

His voice interrupts her thoughts. She blinks again, clearing her vision, and finds him staring at her from across the table, concern in his eyes.

“I did not mean to ask you to revisit painful memories,” he continues. “Whatever is in your past you have no obligation to tell me unless you wish to.”

She raises her head and picks up her glass, swirling her wine and fixing him with an arch look. “Did you know you say sorry too much, Aymeric?” she says.

His eyes widen, an embarrassed pink flushing his cheeks. “I—well—perhaps I do, but it is out of respect, is it not? I apologize, I had not realized—” He stops, cutting himself off as he hears the words he has just spoken. Chuckling, he shakes his head at himself and takes his wine in hand. “I am a fool, aren’t I?”

She smiles. “No,” she says, taking a drink. The wine warms her, flushing across her chest. Despite the gravity of their conversation, she feels content. Safe. Happy. “At least, no more than the rest of us.”

“I should strive to do better.”

“You should strive to be no more than yourself.”

Aymeric pauses, once again surprised by her words, and raises his glass to his lips. He drinks deeply, savouring the wine as he regards her from across the table. There’s that look in his face again… The one she can’t place. He seems enchanted and she hasn’t even done anything. Who is she to hold his attention? His friendship? His love? Though she wants to believe differently, she can’t ignore the deep sense of wrong within her. That this is some horrible mistake. That someone like her doesn’t deserve someone like him.  

She drums her fingers against the tabletop, desperately searching for a way out. She thinks back, winding the conversation back to before it slipped into uncomfortable territory. The weather. The snow.

An idea forms.

“You know I don’t mind the cold,” she says, raising her glass to her lips. She nurses her wine, her fingers dancing across the table. She waits, noting how he watches her as she turns her palm upwards. With a breath, she commands the smallest threads of aether, her fingers crackling with frost as ice manifests in her hand. It dances above her palm, reflecting the warm glow of the candlelight in its crystalline heart. “I have a few tricks.”

He smiles and watches enraptured, the remains of his meal forgotten. “Ah, of course,” he replies. “The talents of a black mage are never to be underestimated.”

“Useful in Ul’dah.” She relaxes her fingers as the ice splits into three small shards and rotate in a circle above her palm. Show off. “On scorching days when I could barely think.”

Adrenaline is already coursing through her. Creating ice is a shock to the system, jolting her mana regeneration into overdrive. The font is infinite, regenerative, powerful. To have so much mana flood through her at once makes her head spin, her heart beat faster, every fibre of her being pulsing with untouched power. So simple, yet so addictive.

Aureia exhales and dismisses the ice. It dissipates in a puff of air, snuffing out the nearby candles. “This is more helpful here,” she says, summon a small ball of flame. She splits it into three and lets it play across her fingers. The orb burn brightly and happily, the light warming her skin. Fire-aspected aether is so often deemed the crux of destructive magic, but she knows better. As devastating as its power can be, fire can also soothe. Warm the hearth. Light the way. A spark in the darkness. “I don’t need much when travelling the Coerthan wilds.”

Aymeric watches in rapt silence as she twists her hand and sends the orbs flying, each alighting on a candle’s wick and setting it aflame. “Estinien thought I was quite the idiot last year. Running off into the snows by myself.”

He chuckles. “Estinien has a low opinion of all adventurers. Himself included.”

The pained look on his face does not go unnoticed. “He will return someday, Aymeric,” she says.

“I would like to believe it. But some days I am not so certain.”

“I think he was right to leave—”

“Without informing a soul? Vanishing without a trace? That is true to form. He is gone, and for those who remain, those to whom he extended a rare hand of friendship, are left to only speculate where time and tide will take him. Or how many moons will pass before he sees fit to return.”

She pauses, meeting his eyes. She has never heard him speak in anger about those he holds dear, at least not like this. Estinien was a friend to them both, but Aymeric knows him in a way she never will. Their bond runs deep, one of comradeship and brothers-in-arms. That he gave her no notice before departing doesn’t phase her, nor can she blame him for it. She may have very well done the same thing had she been in his place. But for Aymeric… Forget Ishgard, to walk out on him without a word has stung him.

And of course he is too polite to show much anger.

Without thinking much of it, Aureia reaches across the table and slips her hand into his. “I miss him, too,” she says softly. “Give him the time he needs, he deserves that much. As I said, I think he was right to leave. There can be no recovery in a place that reminds him of everything that was done to him.”

He exhales a long breath and closes his eyes. “You are right, of course. I spoke in haste and ill of a very dear friend who deserves compassion and understanding, not grievance and blame. Forgive me.”

“Aymeric. What did I say about you apologizing too much?”

He chuckles, shaking his head, and opens his eyes. She catches a flash of a smile in the flickering candlelight and he squeezes her hand once before retreating. “What say you to another round, my friend?” he says, raising his cup.

Aureia glances downwards. When did she finish her glass? She can’t remember. “Why not?” she replies and grabs the decanter. Normally she would avoid a third glass except on nights when she’s intent on drinking herself into oblivion, but with Aymeric she feels… Well. It’s not like she has anything to do tomorrow. And he offered.

He rises from his chair as she refills their wine, reaching for the platter of pastries and shifting it down the table. They have yet to taste any of them, distracted by their conversation as they are. He returns to his seat and clears his throat, hovering awkwardly as if he is waiting for her to make the first move.

“You must know we Ishgardians enjoy indulging ourselves,” he says, taking his glass from her. “It would be very poor manners indeed for me to deny you the first taste of dessert. Please, go ahead.”

She pauses, arching an eyebrow. There must be a reason for his hesitance. Why does she have the feeling he is planning something? “All right,” she says suspiciously, reaching outwards. She doesn’t know half the names of the desserts on the plate, but a familiar red pastry catches her eye at once. “Oh gods, tell me you didn’t.”

He chuckles with laughter and takes a long drink of his wine, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I heard whispers that you were fond of such little treats.”

“I was! I am! I—”

“Are you blushing, Aureia?”

“No, I—” She shoots him a dirty look. “It’s just that these are made with snurbleberries. What kind of a name is snurbleberry? The Warrior of Light can’t go around announcing she likes snurbleberry tarts, it would ruin the image—oh don’t look at me like that, you know what I mean.”

“Of course.”

“Oh, I… Fine. Perhaps I should consider this vengeance for all the times I’ve teased you.”

“Perhaps. Though, in the spirit of honest conversation, I would be bereft if you stopped. Your spirited remarks are a reminder that I am not confined to the stoic and stately countenance required to be upheld by the Lord Speaker.”

Warmth floods through her. Or is that the wine? “I used to love these,” she says, plucking a tart from the plate. The red berries stain her fingers. “I haven’t had one since I was exiled from Ul’dah. How did you know?”

“As I said, I heard whispers.”

“Mhm.” She takes a bite. “Whispers. I’m sure.”

“And by that I mean to say that I spoke with Tataru. She was quite keen to spill your most closely guarded secret.”

She laughs, mouth full, and finishes the tart. “She’s a good friend. Knows me better than she lets on. We have been through a lot together. Her, me, and Alphinaud.”

He nods, his smile warm. “You have. It was by terrible circumstances that the three of you sought refuge here, but I am forever gladdened that you did. Our lives would be quite changed had it been different.”

The conversations stills, lulled to comfortable silence by sweets and wine. Aureia sips at her drink, pleasantly full and warm, her gaze passing around the dining room. She can’t remember an evening where she has enjoyed herself so thoroughly and so peacefully. When they are on their own—without the meddling of stuffy butlers—there is something about Aymeric that keeps her grounded. At peace.

She doesn’t want this evening to end. 

“Aureia,” Aymeric’s voice says quietly, interrupting her thoughts.

“Hm?”

She glances across the table to find him risen to his feet, a hand extended. Ever the gentleman.

“Would you join me in the parlour?” he asks with a half-bow.

She arches an eyebrow. “Am I allowed to bring the wine?”

“I don’t believe I could deny you even if I wanted to.”

Glass gripped in one hand, she follows him through the double-doors at the end and across the threshold into the parlour. The room is smaller to the sitting room they occupied before, though similarly decorated in plush furnishings and soft blues. Cozier. More private. Her gaze wanders, taking in the portraits lining the walls and hung above the hearth. Family portraits, hunting scenes, brave knights and fearsome dragoons… Naegling makes an appearance in more than one. These must be the ancestors of House Borel.

Not his family by blood, but his family by choice.

He settles into a couch by the hearth, resting his wine glass idly on the armrest. She joins him and sinks into the cushions, curling her legs beneath her. He looks different here in the comfort of the parlour. Relaxed. More at ease. His proximity sends an excited shiver down her spine. She has seen him countless times, but now she wonders whether she has ever truly seen him. The deep midnight of his hair, the faint flush on his cheeks, the way the light catches his familiar blue and gold earring. The curve of his lips.  

She presses her glass to her mouth, the rich wine heavy on her tongue. She wonders what it would be like to kiss him. She wants to. She imagines it would be nice. He must be good at it. How many lovers has he had, she wonders? He’s so determined, pragmatic, married to his work. It doesn’t seem like he has had the time for that kind of thing. And yet he is far too much of a romantic not to.  

Her stomach twists into a knot. There it is. The familiar embarrassment rushing up within her, the horrid sense of wrong, wrong, wrong. She’s not normal. She knows this. The things that come so easily to others are not easy for her. She hates the judgement, self-inflicted as it is.

Would he think differently of her, if he knew? How incongruent it is—a warrior and a saviour on one hand, capable of striking down primals and stemming the tides of chaos, and a shamefully inexperienced woman on the other, who at over thirty would be considered an unsalvageable old maid by Ishgardian standards. There are girls half her age who are married.  

Not that Aymeric thinks much of Ishgardian standards.

You have got to get over this.  

She hides from the thought by gulping down a mouthful. When she resurfaces, her head feels light and buoyant, buzzing from the drink.

“I think it’s my turn,” Aureia says finally, sinking deeper into the cushions.

Aymeric raises an eyebrow. “For…?”

She nudges him playfully with a foot. “You asked me a personal question. It’s time for me to ask you.”

“Oh?”

“It’s only fair.”

“I won’t argue that. What would like to know?”

She pauses, wetting her lips as she thinks. “Your parents. What were they like?”

He doesn’t answer. The longer they sit in silence, the more her panic grows—perhaps she misspoke, perhaps it was a mistake to go down this path. She told herself she wouldn’t pry into his family history, but her curiosity won out in the end. She wants to know, if only to know him better.  

“My foster parents…” Aymeric speaks quietly, lost in thought. He rests his hands against his knees, his wine glass held loosely in his hands, his eyes lingering on the portraits on the wall, the generations who came before him. “Were I to describe them in a single word, I believe I could choose no other word than resolute. They were elderly when I was born. No heirs. The Borel line would have died with them had they not taken me in.”

She curls up, leaning her head against the back of the couch, and listens with rapt attention. There is as much love in his voice as there is pain.

“They knew there would be talk. That their House’s reputation would be tarnished by adopting a bastard boy. But when it came down to a choice between sacrificing their reputation in the eyes of the nobility or surrendering their house entirely, they chose the former. Too many depended on them. Loyal knights whose fathers served their fathers, and their fathers before them. Servants who had been with the family for generations. They had a right to call this house home as much as my parents did. Had they died without an heir, they would find themself in need of different employment. The knights would be absorbed into the personal guard of rival houses, the servants scattered among the staff of the nobility if they were fortunate or to the Brume if they were not. Benoit and Violette did not wish to condemn those sworn to them and under their care to such instability.”

Aymeric clears his throat and lowers his head. She can barely make out his face in this light. His profile his dark, the lines of his sharp, proud features backlit by the crackling hearth.

“And so they were steadfast in their decision to raise me as their own. The scandal of it haunted them for the rest of their lives, but they cared not. They were upstanding members of high society, the most noble of nobles. For every cruel word spoken about them, they simply smiled and carried on, secure in their decision. And they were happy in their final days. Content to see me grown. Benoit, proud of how I had proven myself in battle and honoured to pass me Naegling, the symbol of his lineage. Violette, proud of the caring and determined soul she believed me to be.”

“How old were you when they passed?”

“Fifteen.”

A lump forms in her throat. Fifteen. So young. Too young. Still a child, though he may not have been considered as such at the time. Ishgard is far from the only nation to send their children off to war, but the unquestioned nature of the status quo does nothing to relieve the pit in her stomach. She was a child once, too. Garlemald crushed it out of her.

Aureia sips slowly, nursing her wine. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs.  

He catches her eye. “They loved each other deeply. Trusted each other beyond measure. Their faith in one another saw them through the course of life, both the good and the hard. Some would say they were blessed by the Fury, to live the full lives that they did, for as long as they did. It is not often that Ishgardians reach their old age, even among the Elezen. War, grief, and illness all take many before their time.”

A pause. There is no discomfort in his voice; she knows without a doubt that he is telling her this because he wants to share it with her. Her fears of prying too far into his history dissipate. “A love like theirs was precious. Perhaps it is idealistic of me, but one day I hope to find the same, unlikely as it is given my position.”

“Aymeric…”

He raises his glass to his lips and drinks. “It is the way of the aristocracy. Family is of the highest importance, second only to our war and our faith. The relationship between noble bloodlines is ancient and complex. Marriage is a joint endeavour, a commitment struck between two households with an heir as the prize. I may be the Lord Commander, but I am also a viscount. I know the expectations set before me.”

“That’s hardly fair.”  

“And yet I understand the truth quite plainly. No, Aureia, as long as I hold Ishgard in my heart of hearts, my duty is to her and her people above all else. Personal sacrifices will be demanded, and they are ones I am content to make for the sake of this fledgling republic.”

“It shouldn’t be that way. Can’t you… I don’t know, change their minds? You are the Lord Speaker, aren’t you?”

He throws his head back and laughs, fixing her with a warm smile. “I can certain rouse discussion between the Lords and Commons and guide them as best I can,” he replies. “But no. Enacting reform within a system of governance is a far cry from changing a culture itself. I cannot expect the high and minor houses to change their views overnight. It will be a slow progress, one that I can only hope will benefit our children’s children and their children after them.”

She nods, rubbing her thumb absently against the side of her glass. This talk of love has brought a flush to her cheeks and she is once again thinking what it would be like to kiss him.

Damn it. Maybe he wouldn’t even want to. As he has said himself, there are expectations placed upon him. He will eventually need to marry. Have children. Where in that is there room for someone like her?

“And this is what your parents wanted for you?” she asks.

He glances at her. “Benoit and Violette wished only for my happiness,” he replies. “That I pursue a life worth living, whatever I believed that entailed. But there was a time when my foster mother did confess to me that she wished for me to leave Ishgard and see the world beyond our borders. And I will freely admit there was a time I yearned for that too, only to set it aside when practicality won out. However…” He trails off and he sets down his glass, shifting on the couch to face her. His fingers brush hers, tentatively taking her hand in his. “Truth be told, visiting those sweeping vistas of the Churning Mists with you at my side has reminded me of those days. I do feel the slight pangs of wanderlust, and I think… Someday, perhaps.”

Aureia meets his gaze. A part of her wants nothing more than to keep staring at him, to listen to his steady voice and fall deeper into his eyes. Another, smaller part is screaming at her to excuse herself and flee, escaping back to her miserable existence in the Forgotten Knight and forget all about him. She knows this will never work, this thing between them. Why set herself up for failure and risk hurting them both?

She swallows the panic and shoves it down. “Someday, yes,” she echoes tentatively. “Aymeric, do you think perhaps—”

A warm rumble resounds in her ears. A cat—large, orange with grey streaks, his fur fluffier than any she has ever seen—steals out from under the couch. He rises up and places his paws on the cushions by her legs, his tail swishing back and forth.

She stares at him. He stares back with large, yellow eyes.

“Sylvaine,” Aymeric chides, his tone somehow both fond and irritated. “What are you doing here?”

“Sylvaine?” Aureia asks.

The cat mews and stretches, his claws digging into the cushions and pulling at the fabric.

“My parents’ cat.” He leans forward and scratches the back of the cat’s head. “An old gentleman by any standard now, though Marcel complains he is far too lively for his age. One could say he is as much a symbol of House Borel as I am.”

The cat yawns, showing sharp teeth.

“Be careful. Majestic though he is, do not underestimate him. He has a mean streak the size of Coerthas for anyone he deems troublesome or dangerous. Or—quite frankly—anyone he thinks has looked at him wrong. Once he has judged you unworthy there is no asking for forgiveness.”

She holds back a smile. “Oh? And what counts as troublesome in his little lordship’s mind?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. It changes day to day, week to week, you see. I would never dare to assume what is happening in my dearest feline friend’s mind. Though I do recall quite vividly the day he cornered the fair Lady Hermine de Gervaise in the corner of the second floor library. As the staff could not catch the dastardly creature, a dragoon was called to assist the good lady in climbing out the window and escaping to the safety of the garden below. So great was her fear of Sylvaine that it far outstripped her fear of heights, you see.”

Aureia snorts with laughter. “Poor Hermine.”

“Indeed. Poor Hermine. She never called on me again, despite her family’s insistence.”

Sylvaine mews and leaps into her lap, curling his tail around him. His weight is warm and pleasant. Friendly. Cautiously, she reaches out a hand and runs it down his back. He offers a content purr in return and snuggles deeper into her lap.

“…and the dragoon?” she asks, petting the cat. She’s not used to being around such creatures, especially household pets. The closest thing she has is Filo and her chocobo is such a notorious biter that the Holy Stables refuse to stable him. “What happened to him?”

“Hm? Oh. The lady thanked him for his service, as I recall. And he made every excuse never to see her again.”

Her eyes narrow. “Please don’t tell me that was Estinien.”

“I have indicated nothing of the sort.”

“Oh, you liar. That absolutely was Estinien, wasn’t it.”

He grins. “Old stories aside, Sylvaine is very dear to me and the staff. His temperament may be ferocious at times, but we could not want for a better guardian.” He scratches the cat fondly, watching the way he curls in her lap with amusement. “I am glad he has taken a shine to you.”

She returns his smile. Finishing off her wine, she reaches over and places the glass on the floor. She has no desire to get up and find a table when there is a cat in her lap. “Aymeric,” she begins softly. Her head is buzzing slightly. It is so comfortable here, sitting on this couch with him. Between the warmth of the hearth, the contentedness of the cat, and his company, she has never felt more at ease. “When you said someday earlier…”

“Yes?”

“You spoke of wanderlust.”

“I did. I have no shared this with many, but I have a fervent wish to see more of this world. The lands beyond Ishgard. Beyond Eorzea. It is a yearning I cannot fully explain. My mother once said I had an insatiable curiosity; perhaps it stems from that. We have turned a blind eye to the world beyond our gates for too many years. I once considered myself well-versed in the ways of the world, but your arrival here has shaken that. Indeed, the vivid accounts of your adventures and our exchanges with both the Alliance and the Scions of the Seventh Dawn have been a firm reminder that there is much I do not know.”

She pauses, careful not to jostle Sylvaine as she moves closer. “Then come with me.”

“To where?”

“Anywhere. Beyond Coerthas. Beyond Ishgard.”

“You have no idea how fervently I wish to accept such an invitation. But I cannot. My duties with the House of Lords demand my undivided attention.”

“They ask too much of you.”

“They ask nothing. It is I who must give it to them freely, for the sake of my nation. I cannot abandon them for my personal desires, no matter how much I wish I could.”

Aureia meets his eyes. “Have you considered that perhaps it is not they who do not have faith in you, but you who do not have faith in them?”

He blinks, so shocked by her statement that he is lost for words. “I… well… I…”

“The situation is perilous, I know. This new republic of yours is young and fragile. There are many in Ishgard—and the world beyond—who believe you are the sole reason why it has not fallen apart. That makes you a target.”

“We both know that all too well.” The gravity of his words is not easily missed.

“But if the Lords and the Commons are indeed so volatile that they will fall apart if you disappear for a day, then it will happen one day with or without you. You speak of trust so often, but I think, perhaps, it is you who do not trust them, rather than the other way around. Show them you have faith in them. They will eventually have to learn to govern without you.”

He sighs and bows his head, a faint flush on his cheeks. “Once again you have seen straight through to the heart of the matter,” he says. “How do you do it?”

“Sometimes you care so much you blind yourself. Or put yourself in your own way. I have a fair bit of experience with that latter one.”

Sylvaine mews and sits up. With a long stretch, he gives a great yawn and leaps down onto the floor, skidding across the rug. He prances away, tail held high, and slinks through the open door into the dining room and out of sight.

Aureia watches him go and shifts closer to Aymeric. A distant part of her mind is startled by her newfound confidence. Perhaps it’s the direction of the conversation or the comfort she feels here—or the wine. Most likely the wine. But she will seize this moment before she loses it. She has to.

“So,” she finishes, slipping her hand into his. It would be too easy to curl up against him, her head on his shoulder. “I’m going to ask again. Would you come with me?”

He squeezes her hand, his eyes unable to leave hers. Thancred would likely say something snide about him looking besotted. Her heart thunders in her chest. Between the wine and the way he’s looking at her, the desire to kiss him is overwhelming. Why shouldn’t she? She may never get another chance.

Aymeric smiles gently. “There is nothing that would make me happier—”

She kisses him.

For the briefest of moments, she feels him freeze in shock and surprise. Then he melts, his mouth warm and gentle as he kisses her in return. She trembles, her mind buzzing, giddy with astonishment at her own boldness. Without giving it much thought, she twines her hands at the back of his neck and pulls herself into his lap, straddling him. His breath catches in his throat and she senses his hesitation, his hands resting gently against the small of her back.

But he does not push her away. For a moment, they are caught in time—seconds passing, indecision mounting, as if they are both too hesitant to make the first move.

And now that she is here in his arms, it terrifies her how scared she is of losing this. Losing him.

Head fuzzy with wine and too lost in the moment to think, she does the only thing that make sense. She presses her mouth to his again and kisses him deeply—

He pulls back. “Aureia, wait,” he says.

“Hm? What for?”

Aymeric exhales a long breath. “I… This… A moment, if you would, please?”

Shame flushes her cheeks. Was she too eager? Did she misunderstand him completely? Did she misread every sign? Maybe his interest in her was simply her imagination. Fuck it, maybe those romance chapbooks really did do a number on her. This is all Tataru’s fault.

Fuck. What the hells do I do now?  

Cursing inwardly at her own stupidity, Aureia disentangles herself from Aymeric and slides off him, shifting to the far edge of the couch. Her face burns with embarrassment and she tugs awkwardly at her coat, readjusting it. It’s difficult to forget the feel of his hands on her back or his mouth on hers. For a moment, brief though it was, she was in a fantasy.

Brushing her hair out of her eyes, she rests her elbows on her knees and stares determinedly at the opposite wall. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean—”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. It was I who—”

“No. It was me—”

“Aureia—”

The door opens.

“Lord Commander, I—”

Aymeric rises to his feet and drops his hands to his sides, standing at attention. “What is it, ser?” he asks, his tone crisp and official. “News from House Fortemps?”

Aureia flushes, doing her best not to fixate on how quickly he has fallen into his professional façade. The messenger is not one she recognizes, but from the shine in his armour and the terseness in his voice, she has a feeling he is one of Artoirel’s men. The Fortemps heir has never liked her much and the distant professional courtesy he extends her has rubbed off on his knights. If he had walked in only a few seconds sooner, he would have caught them in a moment that would no doubt give Artoirel yet more ammunition to disparage her with. Not that he couldn’t put two and two together…

To his credit, the messenger either hasn’t noticed or refuses to acknowledge the empty wine glass on the floor.   

“An urgent message for the Warrior of Light,” he says with a curt bow. “I was instructed to deliver it without delay.”

Well then, spit it out already. She forces a smile on her face and gestures, silently inviting him to continue.

“Master Thancred returned to the manor a short while ago—”

Aureia’s heart drops. Thancred, returned. Thancred, at the manor. She hasn’t given him any thought for a while now. Impressive, considering how difficult it has been to excise him from her mind. So many restless nights of unanswered questions rolling around her head, wondering what went wrong and when, shoving down the hurt of seeing him and Hilda together like that. She was enjoying being free of it.

And now it has coming rushing back.

She would be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t relieved to hear of him. Confirmation that he is safe and sound.

“—bearing an injured maiden.”

Her ears prick up. What’s this?

She exchanges looks with Aymeric. He raises an eyebrow, but she shrugs and spreads her hands. She is as perplexed by the announcement as he is. What maiden? Who could it possibly be? Thancred has a reputation for philandering, but it is, frankly, a farce. This must be something else.

“Master Leveilleur and Mistress Tataru are tending to her wounds, but they do not like her chances. Respectfully, my lord. They have requested the Warrior of Light’s presence immediately.”

Aureia’s eyes widen. If Alphinaud is involved…

It can’t be. Alisaie…?  

His long-lost sister and twin, who diverged from her brother’s path to take matters into her own hands. Aureia doesn’t know her well and has not seen her in years. But if she is back and she is injured, if Thancred saved her… Then she knows where she has to be.

“I will go at once,” Aureia announces and rises from the couch. Blood rushes to her head and she winces, doing her best to keep her expression straight as a headache pulses between her eyes. She is regretting drinking that much wine. She may not be drunk, but from the way she is wobbling she knows she must be tipsy—and it’s going to be a pain to hide it.

Aymeric puts a gentle hand on her elbow, steadying her. Whether it is a gesture of support or to save her from further embarrassment, she doesn’t know. Her stomach twists into a knot. She doesn’t wanted to leave things left open with him like this, but she doesn’t have a choice.  

“And I shall go with you,” he says firmly. “Lead the way, ser. Mistress Malathar and I will follow.”