#「 VISAGE; ELIDIBUS 」

[voidsentprinces]

Oh no, then Emet-Selch was the only who did truly remember things even though rose-tinted glasses. Elidibus had his memory faltering from being a Primal of the many voices of Amaurot's prayer. But Lahabrea? He'd been doing it so long that he began to forget why he was doing it. Only recalling the vague visage of the maddened smiling of Athena and the serious face of Eric...that's sad man. Of course Emet would only operate alone. He alone is the only one functioning enough to operate and only barely it seems.

[pr1ncesspopstar]

Shade - FFXIV Write 2024 - Day 15: Free Day

I cannot wave bigger "ENDWALKER SPOILERS AHEAD" flags if I tried

Ao3

-

‘This is a sick joke.’ Hades couldn’t help but think as he observed the body, the shade he held in his arms.

He should have known better, truly. It was impossible not to feel that battle as it began within the depths. Waves of aether crashing up between each clash of a blade and summoning of magic. Despite the severance of his old seat of Emet-Selch, there was little he could do to break the tie between his soul and the waves of the aetherial sea. He could feel Elea- no, Halditar (he had to give respect to her name now, seeing all that she had surpassed) was trading blows with Hydaelyn at this very moment. That shard and the one he had once called friend could not exist together.

“Did that eikon make you?” He snarled, pushing away the shade he had raced to embrace in a moment of weakness. His betrayal was so great he couldn’t help but use the word he had created to insult the various false gods created by this shattered star.

“No,” its voice was not what he expected. Have Elea’s voice it did, but more than that. Layered upon it, in languages aplenty, were the voices of others. Men, women, children and elderly. They created a strange melody of a voice. Some were oddly familiar. “I am a gift. I was made for Venat just before the sundering.”

“By who?” He demanded, as if the answer wasn’t obvious. Hate as he did to compare himself to her. Hades and Venat were very similar in one aspect. Their respect and knowledge for the wishes of one lost friend was too great to dare make some false idol in their likeness. The only one who would dare to would have been-

“I did,” Elea’s shade nodded. His skin crawled. It was one for shallow imitations like the ones he had made to fill his phantom city to believe themselves sentient. It was another to see one made by a friend in the image of herself, believing that. Then she nodded and displayed another uncanny ability that made Hades despise this creation. “I know I reflect the ancient you once knew, if that will help you feel at ease.”

“Oh, good! She filled you with as much aether as she could so you can read my feelings, too. How wonderful.” The sarcasm and venom was such a dead mix on his tongue, especially as he could hear the words echo around them in the sea of souls.

“How very hypocritical of you, ‘emperor of the phantom city.’” He held back a flinch, both from the sharp words and the shock of its knowledge. The shade had her unrestrained tongue. That was clear enough.

“How do you know about that? And more pressingly, why on this star were you made? Elea despised using creation magic without a good reason.” He demanded to know. She walked across the platform they found themselves on, meandering mid-conversation.

(A habit that hurt his heart to see recreated so accurately. Seemed she was more aware of herself than she let him know.)

“I was worried Venat would be lonely, and without support to the very end. So I made my shade to keep her company through it all.”

“That’s it? Your only reason for pouring so much aether into one shade?” Even from beyond existence, his mind still struggled to wrap around Elea’s thought process.

“Did I need a better one?” She countered. She had climbed onto the railing, balancing upon it like a child might, wandering away. Without realizing it, he followed, chasing after the pale visage of a friend he once knew. “As for why I know about the Tempest, Venat loved my gift so much she gave me the gift to see the lives of my shards. That’s why I talk like this. Whether I meant to, I’ve picked up some of my other part’s traits as my own.”

That explained the familiarness of some of those voices lost within the symphony. They were the other shards of Elea, some he had met and known. A knight that gave himself to darkness to save a princess he loved, dying at a disguised Elidibus’ hand. The whisperings of that piece of her existing in the third, clad in red and ever-humming. An abandoned child of the forest that died when they dropped that shard’s moon into the earth. Some he had made offers to, with one commonality. All refused any offer he or other Ascians made.

“Where are Hythlodaeus and Themis? They are normally with you, are they not?” Elea’s shade asked, looking around as if at any moment they may pop-up.

“They went to go watch your shards fight with Venat. Wanted to bear witness to ‘the battle legends will be made from,’ in their own words.” He truly tried not to sound so bitter over it. He was also championing the red-head, after all.

Upon her soul, he bore her his legacy, more than once now that his memory of Elpis had returned to him once his soul sunk into the aetherial sea. He had watched as she and her fellows raced down to the heart of the world, but could not bring himself to chase them further. Seeing Venat infuriated him too much, he claimed.

(“Of course that’s the only reason,” he claimed when Hythlodaeus asked if that was the only reason he didn’t wish to follow Themis down to the battlefield. The violet-haired man only smiled.

Those purple eyes looked over his knuckles, still white from how tight his fist clenched, hearing a bard’s aria echo through the sea in a voice as haunting as it had been millennia ago. He still furrowed his brow in confusion, wondering how the spells she weaved could still be so potent with only a fraction of aether. He knew Hyth would likely feel the pain still lingering on his inner-cheek from biting back a shout of worry when she had nearly been flung off a ledge by Amon’s assault.

He tried to insist once more, but when it was clear Hades would not, could not, bear to watch that soul so familiar fight, he went on ahead. Loneliness a cold comfort he had been content to swath himself in until they returned.

The phantom in front of him made him wonder if this was his curse. The existence of this phantom made him wonder if it was his curse.)

“You never listened to the words of others well enough.” Those words broke him free of his thoughts. The black mask the shade wore, Azem’s mask, was featureless, a canvas for the golden pain that decorated it so. “I can still feel you, as deeply as I did in the past, even. A skill you have still lacked to learn, to my former self’s worried expectations.”

Even then, the shade should have had no face for him to see. Yet Hades swore he knew beneath that mask Elea’s phantom was smiling at him, tight and sad. Eyes that did not exist boring into him with pity that made his pride flare on his face.

“Enough! Have I not suffered enough indignity and insults from you when you lived? Even beyond the grave, must you insist on haunting me?!”

“I haunt you only as much as you let me, sweet boy.” she tried to reach out to him, with a hand with painted nails and so painfully, endearingly small. He could remember when that hand would graze his jaw line so gently, when he would feel jealousy flicker seeing it tangle with Hythlodeaus’s hands, or Themis’ hair to straighten it. A depth of affection never afforded him, it seemed.

He slapped it way. It was warm and soft in such a fleetingly familiar way. His stomach turned in disgust. Seemed Venat’s affection for the fake gave it some extra power, the ability to feel as Elea once did. It was practically a parasite, existing still only thanks to the aether sustaining it.

“You do not have the right to call me as she once did, shade!” he shouted. Elea’s shade paused, tilting her head like an animal as she processed his action. The seconds of silence were heavy until she dropped her hand back to her side.

“Alright,” it was as if his outburst hadn’t even fazed her. Continuing on as such. “But don’t you remember? You never figured out what I was trying to say that day.”

“How could you? You were ever obtuse. Never saying things as they were.”

“I tried, I promise. To say things so others could understand. But no one ever seemed to change how they would listen. Only Hyth understood, and Themis tried. He truly did, but he was so… Young and none of us had the time. Little did we know.” Her words were heavy, yet fragile. That soft voice quaking at memories of feeling misunderstood, a sadness that washed over him from how deeply such feelings tied to this shade’s composition.

He could feel it in her heart, a tumultuous heat and coldness at odds, humiliation and embarrassment hand in hand with anxiety. The sense of walking on eggshells stressed over the wrong thing slipping out. He felt his eyes go heavy with tears, Elea’s empathy so great it moved his body, whether it moved him him. Hades could only feel conflicted. He never felt such sadness from Elea before, but feelings of this strength could only be true. How did he miss-

“You missed it for the same reason I was the only one to vote against you becoming the seat of Emet-Selch.” Oh, how he could feel his brow twitching in anger now. This shade just couldn’t couldn’t leave his thoughts well enough alone, and he doubted she would if he asked.

“And why was that, Elea? I’d love to know why one of my own closest friends thought me unfit for a position I was more than qualified for?!” He asked.

“Can you finally take my words at face value, as I have always meant them?”

“If it means you will finally be truthful.”

“Swee- Hades, I have always been truthful, especially to you. You just never liked or understood what I had to say. Ever pragmatic to a fault. Unable to understand the ways of others, why they did and think as they might.”

“Is that why you voted against me?”

“No,” she jumped down from the railing she balanced upon. He could not remember her being so… small, having to tilt his neck down quite far to look at her. He recalled someone larger, whose presence could encompass him, and words were much the same for how silently she could move.

“You have always been terribly callous and unfeeling towards others. Even those you never meant to hurt weren’t immune to that ugly part of your soul and were content to leave it unchanged. Now, I have seen through the eyes of my other lives how cruel you can truly be to both enemies and those you care for. My only regret is I did not fight harder to have Hythlodaeus take that seat instead of you.”

Each word is a dagger straight into his chest. Sharp, vicious, and making him remember the feeling of his body being ripped to shreds by her shard not too long ago. He is sure his face is red now. He can feel it burn as he towered over the shade. His robes and flesh melt as his true form tasks shape, wrapping around him in swathes of darkness as he slammed his fists down on either side of Elea’s shade. She can’t keep her balance from the force of the blow, falling, but unflinching as she stared up at him.

“You dare call me cruel?! You would think me callous after all I have done, all that we have given to save our ways?! Call me the hypocrite while you let our friends and family suffer the humiliation of being ripped apart! All they experience is being lost, aimless, and not knowing rest in this imperfect world! You terrible fake-” He hated how loud he screamed at her. Pushed to the brink by this false idol, knowing what a fool he looked like now. 

Worse as a part of him, felt a twinge of fear. A moment of realization.

Was he not acting as the shade told him Elea saw him?

Something warm touched the metal of his face. Very gentle, very familiar, nails making a gentle clack he hadn’t heard him in an amount of time that had no number. His multiple eyes focused on the figure. Hades did not know sympathy could make a stare burn as bright as anger until this moment.

“Have you finally heard me?” She asked.

His form faded back to the man with white hair that she was familiar with. His towering over her reduced him to kneeling on the ground, hands supporting his torso as he stared down. Those faintly glowing robes of the shade entered his vision. He wanted to speak, spit back words, but he knew they would only be in service to licking his wounds. No, it was his turn to do as she so often did for others. To be quiet and listen.

“It is, as you say, I was cruel, and my reasons were selfish. I will not deny the truth,” she agreed with his words. Another dagger of pain to the heart, cursing his own tongue for being so calloused and loose. Her hand grabbed under his chin, and gently brought his face up to look at that mask he only remembered, not the face beneath. “But I will not regret my actions. We both just did what we thought was right, with no way of knowing what ‘right’ really was.”

“Please, spare yourself. I always hated when you spoke so poorly about your nature.” He begged. Even after all this time, having to see her as an enemy, Hades found himself soft for Elea yet.

“But it’s true.” She said it as if that simple made it okay to say words most would crumple against. How she did not was a mystery, even now.

“... What was it, then? The real reason you didn’t join us in the summoning of Zodiark? Why were you selfish?” he asked. He could feel a weakness through her fingers, something long left behind unearthed.

“I was tired of hating myself, Hades.” There was a harshness in her voice that Hades had never hurt before.

“You said you wouldn’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.” There was a harshness in her voice that Hades had never hurt before. “I tried, I truly did try to be happy despite it all, Hades. But our culture did not love me, who I really was. And you didn’t either. You love the idea of Elea, the adventurer with a quick tongue and wild tendencies. I don’t blame you. She was so fun to play that I loved her too.”

“I desired the ability to change without worrying about the world, as the world deserved to be allowed to exist. Among our kin, I couldn’t accomplish that.” You know I couldn’t do that amongst our kin. Our kin’s perception of us as ‘prosperous’ and their belief that nothing could be better bound us in stagnation, burdening me with expectations, even if it wouldn’t have been better for me.

A blackness filled his chest, tightening in her throat, choking him up. He wanted to insist she was lying, but this despair in his gut and how his thoughts raced. He felt her aether course through where her hand met his skin. It was hauntingly cold now, dragging his brain into a mire of anxiety. He could feel his muscles tense, freezing in place while he heaved for breath to fill his lungs. Even a moment of this self-loathing was more than he had ever done across all his lifetimes. One could not lie about a pain so deep.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” A foolish question the moment it fell from his lips. He knew the answer. She did. She tried so many times to get him to see the real her, and he never did. He swallowed harshly, feeling tears make his eyes dewy. In a moment of weakness, he asked a question he had long wished he did, knowing full well he would dread any answer the shade told him. “Is that why you didn’t love me? That for all that you loved our Hyth and Themis, you couldn’t love me the same?”

“Oh, my poor, sweet Hades,” her words dripped with pity and sympathy. Her other hand came up gently to pet his hair. Those long nails scratched his scalp, how he had once hoped they might should Elea and he ever became more. “How could I have brought myself to love a man that could not love even a shard of my soul?”

The answer was so much worse than he imagined. It was more than a dagger through his heart. A wave of guilt he had long assumed he had stopped feeling wash over his soul. It made too much sense. He refused to take the small, shattered splinters of her, and treat them as dearly as he would hold them full. Especially when she was so happy they were here instead of her, and even if she returned someday, it would not be as the Elea he had known. Perhaps deep down he knew that none of the people he loved, who had been sundered, would not return as they once were. They had changed too much, for better or worse.

“I wish I could steal away all the moments you hated yourself,” he said. His voice was low now, softened by shock and truth and a realization. Elea, this may not have been, but it would be his only moment to speak with this version of her ever again. “If I could do one truly, genuinely kind thing to make up for all that I have done wrong in your eyes, it would be that. To feel and live every moment you’ve felt you hated yourself. So I could finally know the real you I lost.”

Elea’s shade moved her hands, cupping his face. He let his eyes flutter shut and nuzzled into the small palm. Such weakness he thought he would only ever enjoy with Hyth. “And I would want to do the same with you, retrace all the miles that you have, know all that you have learned, and come to do.”

“That‘s a terrible thing to want. You already know all there is about me it feels like, and the things I have done since your sundering are nothing good. Why would you want to know my place in this storied star?” He couldn’t help but scoff. Her laugh was surprisingly loud, and so warm even when weakened by sorrows of the past.

“Because you are still so dear to me! And how could I not want to know all about my friend? And from what I’ve seen, it’s a burden you’ve shouldered alone for some time. To understand it means I could better help you bear it.”

“Helpful to the last, truly. Even your shade can’t rest if she senses someone in need!” he spoke it as if exasperated, when he was anything but. Her laugh, her touch. For a moment, it slipped away that he was in the sea of souls, and this was only a phantom. It felt like home, if only for the smallest moment.

But his home was long gone, and fate saw to remind him the last hour was approaching.

Before their very eyes, the form of the shade shifted. A faint wave of aether wracking her form and then fading. She pulled her hands from his face and looked down. The faint glow was dimming, and they appeared translucent. Small motes of aether drifted off her hood, fading into the surrounding air.

“I won.” Elea whispered. Hades felt it only moments later. A massive wave, practically a tsunami of energy exploding from the center of the aetherial sea. No more could he feel the mass of aether that made up the form of Venat’s primal. This meant that anything that was not crystallized would fade.

Including that which sustained this shade for so long.

Yet, she seemed none the sadder for it. Quite the opposite, jumping up with glee and racing around, laughing and twirling at the victory far below them. “I won! Hades, I won! Halditar, and the Scions won! We’re strong enough, we’ve proved we had the strength to stop Meteion! I… I can save our stars.”

“That’s… wonderful, Elea. Your soul, she sure is something.” However hard he tried not to sound sad about it, about what he was about to lose again, it seemed it wasn’t enough. She stopped her gleeful spinning.

Before he knew it, he was nearly tackled off the edge in a hug. So rough was the embrace. A mask of black and gold sailed over the edge and into the sea, gone forever. Elea was weak, so it was easy to pry himself from her squeezing, but he certainly wasn’t happy about being nearly tumbled over the railing. Just as he was about to voice his discontent, a familiar sight stopped him.

Long, curly hair glowed the faintest ruby, as if no composition of creation magic to make the shade could hide how vibrant the inspirations’ locks had been. Her face was more gaunt than he remembered, as if she didn’t eat as much as she should. And perhaps most to his shock were her eyes. Down-turned and framed with full, soft lashes, there was no light in her gaze. Hollow, dead, and far too familiar. The way the gaze of every body he stole would inevitably look, burdened by the years of his duty as an Ascian. Whether this was how she truly looked beneath the mask, or how her self-loathing made her see herself, he wanted nothing more than to hold her.

Something he would never get to do again after this moment.

“Be good.” The many-voiced shade told him.

And she was gone. Disappearing into several balls of light that drifted around him. All the memories she had been made of and collected, gone. The duty she had given herself, complete.

Hades felt so much at once. Anger, despair, loss, thankfulness. Too much to sort, as his eyes welled. He refused to cry yet and wiped the tears away, especially knowing now that Hyth and Themis would return to rave about Halditar’s success. He refused to let them see him crying.

He had all the time he needed to mourn and recall the version of his past friend. For now, he was to look ahead, and hope that the one he had championed… his friend, could succeed where they had failed.

-

Hello! I normally don't do this but I am putting word vomit here because Cheese and Crackers, I wrote so much of it and I am not just going to leave it on Ao3!

Through much analysis I feel it it safe to say hades was not a good person. While he could be pushed to do kind things, it did not take much to push him to act unkind in turn. Many of nastiest and cruelest acts the ascians can be traced back to that we know of for now are his work or work he was involved it. Pairing this with how he remembers Amarout it's safe to say everyone's favorite grandpa has the biggest rose-tinted glasses of anyone we've interacted with so far in regards to anything, expect maybe Sphene (but that's a different and much more existential can of worms we aren't talking about rn.)

I couldn't help but want to play with that in the way I paint his dynamic with Elea. They love each other, they really do and they want to love each other more. But Hades has his head shoved so far up his own ass he cannot see any of his flaws that are very apparent to Elea, and I think she had the foresight to know interacting with him in any romantic way would have only hurt her more than he already had in different ways in the past. They genuinely believe being apart is the best option, and for then it was. Elea had hoped with time, Hades but sadly he just could never live up to her most simple, human expectations of him. He had to die to finally grow, after proving Elea's point of his cruelty by torturing Halditar and giving her expectations he would have never allowed her to meet, never intending to judge her fairly.

Also how I interpret the shard's of Elea soul, I wanna talk about it. Basically it is a 'both are true at once' deal. Halditar both is an is not Elea. Elea both is and is not Halditar. The Ascian's SAY Halditar is lesser than Elea for being a fraction of her soul, but they are wrong. The only thing that is different between them are their circumstances and their power, and this goes for ALL of Elea's shards, Ardbert, the voidsent for the reaper class, whatever the fuck happened to the one in the Nineth. All these souls carry sort of core 'tenets' they tend to abide by. Curious, explorative, empathetic, a touch stupid in weird ways, so on. All these things are what the soul that happens to be called Elea by the Ancient possessed. Removing bits of that soul maybe creates a small imbalance towards one aspect or another, but nothing drastic enough that renders the soul unrecognizable to the eyes of an Ancient. It is circumstances around those factors that shape how the personality manifests.

It's why Halditar would be both Venat and Elea's favorite shard and the one that is most worthy of carrying Azem's Crystal, because Halditar is everything Elea wanted to be and more. She's worked for and found happiness and freedom to change herself and even her fate. She's free to love, free to roam a wonderful world, she can be light-hearted and serious. She is the proof Elea would have wanted and needed to see to know it would all be okay. She would love herself someday, she'd find the 'her' she always wanted to be and would prove she had a right to exist and live. One comparison I can give is imagine you have a beautiful, huge raw diamond. The only way to cut the most perfect diamond is to slowly but surely work through it to reach the center, and at the end cutting the most beautiful, stone you've ever seen from it. Something that could have only come from refinement upon refinement. That was the process that made Halditar.

Also slightly more derailing I did not realize until writing this how much Elea and Hermes would have gotten along in their ideologies and philosophy of what made Ancient society pretty shit. Shame it manifested in entirely different ways!

Also random list of songs I associate with Halditar/Elea and Emet-Selch: Change Your Mind and Love Like You from Steven Universe. Running Up that Hill by Kate Bush. Through Patches of Violets by mili.

Thank you for reading the word vomit.

[tenuuchlegch]

❃ "Elidibus..." She maintained her composure well enough in front of the embodiment of said man's memories, but her stoic demeanor wavered the moment au ra exited aetherial sea. Leaning against wall and lightly pressing fingertips against its surface, she took a moment to consider all which transpired.

- In the very least, she's glad that the man was sent off with a smile on his visage this time.

[unsunderedphoenix]

Themis/Elidibus Master Post

Bio

Headcannons

Verses

Visage

[potassium-pilot]

FFXIVWrite 2022, Day 20: Anon

I remember my trembling and quaking at the news delivered of my comrades at the banquet in Ul’dah, delivered unto fates unknown by traitorous hands and avaricious deeds. Powerless to help, marooned on an island forged by mine own inept skill in the social graces, the Waking Sands did act as naught more than my tomb, it seemed. Moenbryda, my closest friend, gave her life for our cause, and in return, I brought little more than my duplicitous recourse with the Ascian Elidibus.

Books had long been my company, yet little could there be to savor without thee.

My dearest Thancred.

I would lay in bed, my thoughts twixt mourning my dear Moenbryda, and mourning thee. Nay, I must resist, I would think, for thy status was yet unknown. So long as a glimmer of hope yet remained, I would chase it.

I would see thee anon.

—————

I remember when our dear friend, the “Crystal Exarch”, G’raha’s clever disguise, snatched thy soul from thy body and transported it to dimensions yet unknown. Though mine other comrades yet remained, there was yet a stinging sensation in my heart. Once again, I should lose thee to a fate I dare not reach, a world I never thought possible.

Then I succumbed to it as well.

I woke up, bare as the day I was born, the embarrassment and sheer disappointment writ plain on the Exarch’s face as he hurriedly draped mine and Y’shtola’s shame with some blankets.

“Please, accept my most humble apologies”, he offered, “I’m afraid you weren’t quite the person I was looking for.”

“So this was an accident?” Y’shtola inquired.

“Indeed. I had tried to bring your other friend, your “Warrior of Light” as you call her.”

“We are not the first thou hast brought here?” I asked.

“No. There was one other. You might know him. Thancred Waters?”

That name made my heart sing with the choirs of angels on high. “Yes”, I replied, “Verily, I do know that name.”

I would find thee anon.

—————

I remember the Empty, a barren wasteland choking on stagnant light aether. We had only just wrought water aether from the Lightwarden Eden, and we thought it prudent to rest. The rains were pouring and I retreated to safety in my tarp-protected tent.

As I laid in my tent, I heard the most unfortunate clatter outside. I poked my head from my temporary abode and witnessed the ruins of a tarp rendered futile.

“Damn it all”, thou grumbled as thou had attempted to resurrect it from its pointlessness. A few minutes passed before thou threw the stake that held thy tarp down upon the ground.

“Thancred?” I called.

“Yes, Urianger?”

“I have a surplus of space within my tent if thou should have need of it.”

Thou sighed. Thou toldest me, “Well, if we hadn’t just reintroduced rain to this part of the world, I would probably just lie down under the stars. Seeing as how I’m sopping wet now, it seems I have little choice.” Thou grabbed a bag from under the remains of your abode, ran towards my open tent and crawled inside. “Thank you, Urianger.”

“‘Tis my pleasure to aid thee. Art thou not cold?”

“Indeed I am. Thankfully, I brought my spare clothes.” Thou had begun the process of removing thy old wet clothes, and I felt a heat wash over my visage. Shirtless, thou had laid bare the remains of thy near death battle with Ranjit. I did remember when we had found thee unconscious on the ground where the battle took place. Thou did well. Thou frightened me down to my bones. When thou had opened thine eyes, relief washed over me in a greater force than even the most turbulent of ocean waves.

“Thancred?”

“Yes?”

“Dost thou still feel the pain of it?”

“Of?”

“Thy near perilous encounter with Ranjit.”

“Oh, that.” Thou sighed. “Every now and again, it comes back. I’m pretty sure it’s just my old age catching up to me.”

“Thou art hardly old, my friend.”

“How old are we?” Thou asked, “We have been here for five and three years, but we haven’t had our bodies.”

“Perhaps we shall measure this more accurately upon our returns to our mortal coil.”

Thou smiled. “Perhaps you’re right. I just feel older.”

“Thy scars shall disappear once we awaken in our bodies. As Dia put it, Krile careth for us even now.”

“Hm.”

“Is aught amiss, Thancred?”

“No, just…” Thou hesitated.

“Whatever thou may worry to say, my friend, pray set it aside. Thy words shall be kept in my strictest confidence.”

Thou gave a small laugh. “Well, I do know you’re good at keeping secrets.” Thou shook thy head. “It’s Ryne.”

“Oh?”

“I know perfectly she can take care of herself. She’ll be fine, and I know she’ll be fine.”

“Then what ails thee?”

“I…I don’t want to leave her.”

“Ah”, I said, “Thou shalt miss her dearly.”

“Is it wrong for me to think of her as the daughter I never had? That child I rescued from Vauthry’s prison? The way I pulled her about here and there, taught her how to work with knives, kept her at arms length for so long, dragged her into a world-saving endeavour, I would think that I’m a terrible father.”

“And though thou had issues before, doth thy initial inhibitions hold thee back now?”

“No. Far from it. Now that I’ve made myself closer to her, it feels like I’ve made a huge mistake, but it’s the happiest mistake I’ve ever made.”

“Whence doth this notion that closeness with someone should be construed as a mistake come?”

“From the fact that once Beq Lugg finds a solution to get us home, I’ll have to leave her, and likely never see her again.”

I shook my head at thee. “Thou this may be true, is it not the fine memories that thou makest with Ryne what is most important? What make what we endeavour to do here matter all the more?”

“I suppose.”

“And verily, thou may never see her again, but I would not grow disheartened so easily. Thou art not the only one who gained a dear companion from this world, and I do believe that so long as our comrades hold that love close to them, there shall be a way back here yet. One that doth not require immense sacrifice.”

Thou smiled at me. “Thank you, Urianger.”

I placed my hand on thy shoulders. “Think naught of it.”

Just as I began to remove my hand from thee, thou begged, “Wait.”

“Yes?”

“This going to sound strange to ask, but…er, never mind.”

“Thancred, please. Is there aught I can do for thee?”

I could feel thy heartbeat quicken from my position. “Could you…keep that hand there?”

“Oh.” Perhaps thou may have heard the nervous tone in my voice when I answered, “Of course.” I replaced my hand and heard thou say, “Thank you. It’s…been a while.”

“Since?”

“Since anyone’s touched me gently.”

I should not have been so bold, but I began to rub thy back. I felt the bumps of scars past and poking bones from my body under my skin. I should not have been so bold as to take thy hand too.

Thou shot thy gaze at my attempt. But where I had expected thee to ask me to stop, you merely took thy hand and placed it upon mine. Thou moved it ever upward, and grew closer to me.

“Is this…wrong?”

“No”, I answered with a low voice, “Far from it. Whatever we may lose from this world when we make our return to the Source, we shall still have this. We shall still have one another.”

Thou placed thy head in my chest. I held thee close as thou gripped my side.

“I really needed this. I’m sorry to impose.”

“Thou dost not impose when thou approachest me in this manner. I’m happy to hold thee.”

‘Twould not be long.

I would kiss thee anon.

[laeorinel]

FFXIV Write 2022 - Day 27

Prompt - Hail

Today was a rough one and I wasn't entirely sure if I would get it done. Largely unedited from lack of time.

Spoilers for the Eden quests from Shadowbringers.

This was all wrong, so very, very wrong. Why had she agreed to this plan again?

As Samara ducked and weaved, the large shards of ice flung toward her she muttered long strings of auri curses. She wouldn't be able to hold back much longer. Ryne was losing control of the power of Shiva, her attacks coming faster and hitting harder. The rain of hail, more akin to razor-sharp blades, cut through the less plated parts of her armour with ease, and she could feel the injuries mounting. Most were minor for now, but even a minor wound left to bleed for a while would become an issue.

She had given Thancred her word that she would hold back when fighting Ryne, even if she were channelling the power of a Primal. She trusted the young girl would be able to keep things in check, and she had for a time, but as the battle dragged on, Ryne began to slip further and further away, the will of 'Shiva' becoming more prominent.

As another barrage of ice came barreling towards her, a shard hitting her in the thigh and shoulder, she came to a conclusion. If she fell here, the Scions would be trapped on the First, doomed to fade away. There would be few left to oppose Zenos back on the Source or deal with Elidibus's schemes. And if she were to fall, what would happen to Ryne? Would she be forever trapped in this form? Would she become a threat to the shard as a whole? No, this was no longer the time to hold back; there was more riding on her winning this battle than just restoring the element of Ice to the empty.

She stopped, no longer ducking and diving out of the way of the oncoming attacks. She slammed her axe down into the ice-covered platform, anchoring herself in place as her free hand reached for a different soul crystal. She could hear far off in the distance Thancred, Urianger and Gaia yelling, but she couldn't make out what. Or maybe she just didn't want to hear it. As she clutched the soul stone to her chest, she whispered a few words that none save her could hear.

"Thancred, Urianger…I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me one day."

As Shiva launched another attack toward her, taking advantage of her foe's seemingly distracted state, ice melted under a wave of blackened flame. Dark magic surrounded Samara, the leather and metal armour of a warrior morphing and shifting to a black plate that covered her from head to toe, her axe dissipating before being replaced by a large two-handed ōdachi. Dark red eyes stared at the Primal wearing a friend's face from underneath the helm as a second person took form beside them, their visage made entirely of shadow.

As was the case whenever she took up the mantle of the Dark Knight, Samara Kha as many knew her ceased to be. What took her place was something savage and primal, a creature elders on the Steppe would warn their hunters to avoid. A blade of Nhamma. A creature of vengeance loosed on those who wronged the Auri people and a fierce protector of those who wandered the Steppe alone.

What words were spoken as she and Esteem took up their blades against Shiva were little more than snarls and curses in the ancient Auri tongue. She fought ever onwards, no matter the injuries the battle incurred. Ice impaled her through the black armour, light burnt away at anything it touched, armour buckled and broke under the force of Shiva's blows, and blood spattered the ice-covered stage.

As the battle neared its conclusion, as ice encased her entire body, she still refused to yield, black flame lashing at her frozen prison. Even once she was freed by Gaia, her body demanding a moment to recover, she forced herself to her feet, an age-old mantra being repeated in her mind.

"Protect. Save. Protect. Save. Protect. Save."

As the Light grew in power and sought to consume Ryne, the mantra became more desperate. She was saving her even if it came at great cost to herself. As her dark magic swirled and coalesced with Gaia's, the Light yielded to the Darkness, and Ryne was freed from Shiva's grip. Exhaustion set in quickly as Samara fell to her knees, dark magic ebbing away and back into the soul stone in her grip, ignoring the pain in her hand and arm. She knew there would be blackened skin and veins underneath the plate, and her aether would be dangerously out of balance for a time. She knew she would look upon her closest friends and allies and see daggers hidden behind their backs. That she would shun contact from all of them until the whispers of her other self faded away. That she likely would not be the real Samara Kha again for at least a few days.

For now, it was worth it as she sat there focusing on taking in one breath at a time.

[blucifer08]

Naru grips her scythe, watching the shadows recede before the dawn-tinted magic of Azem.

Narrowing her eyes, she meets the masked gaze of the Dark Primal as it is revealed, the voice of Fandaniel mocking her, taunting her.

“The greatest obstacle to my ambition. You will trouble me no longer!”

Adjusting the grip on the shaft of her weapon, Naru completes the summoning, the pillars of light resolving around her-

And time… Slows.

Feeling her very heartbeat slow, she senses, undefinable and indistinct, another presence in the horned body looming over her.

Glacially, slowly, the body moves, two of its vast arms moving to gently scoop her up. As she is lifted from the stone, unsure what is happening, Fandaniel’s presence fades.

Lifted up to the masked visage, a shimmering glyph appears across it, hazy and barely visible.

The glyph of Elidibus.

Tears starting to run down her cheeks, she leans against the mask, her legs shaking, her scythe falling from her grasp down to the stone platform below.

The sensation of phantom lips presses against her forehead as a voice, achingly familiar, burningly missed, sounds in her mind, the merest echoes of the man she once knew.

"Erasmia.”

The moment passes, and she is back on the stone. Her scythe is back in her hand. Fandaniel’s presence is all she can feel once more.

But in her mind, that voice still sounds, lost and bereft-sounding.

“Erasmia, my beloved. I am sorry.”

[part of an exchange with @the-littlest-kojin ]

[the-littlest-kojin]

Frowning, Shio sets down the letter she has received on her desk. It's been a long time since she has received a crafting commission, but this one... Glancing at the letter again, Shio re-reads the final paragraph.

I understand that you usually do culturally-contextual designs, but I wish this piece to be personally unique, and significant somehow to the person I intend this to be a gift for. Is it at all possible that you could use your Echo's ability to peer into the past to discern the correct design? Price is no object, and I wish the piece ready for her nameday.

Glancing at the information where the intended recipient can be found. Shio packs her things. It's definitely the weirdest request that she's ever received, but she enjoys crafting custom jobs, and this is certainly an interesting one.

~

Walking into the Bismarck, Shio nods to Lyngsath, and selects a seat behind the unsuspecting Miqo'te.

And now, I guess I just sit here either until she leaves or until the Echo strikes?

Sighing, Shio unrolls a scroll on the table, beginning to edit her research journal for publication, while she waits.

~

Hours later, as the sun is starting to set, Shio rolls up the last scroll, sighing and standing up, bumping her chair into the feline behind her. Murmuring an apology, Shio starts to hear a response, as-

A white-cloaked figure, standing in front of the same Miqo'te, speaking in the black tongue of the Amaurotine Ancients, as the Miqo'te steps back, face a visage of disbelief.

Shaking her head to clear the lingering disorientation of the Echo, Shio suppresses a grin as she murmurs another apology to the confused feline, quickly walking out of the Bismarck.

I'm not sure I understand, but I know exactly what to craft, now.

~

Setting her hammer down, Shio wipes her brow, a grin on her face. Sitting back on her heels, she views the completed set of armour, sized according to the letter's specifications. Carefully going over the sketch she drew from memory of Elidibus's armour from the Seat of Sacrifice, Shio checks every part of the armour, from the blue cuirass, the gold and white cloth, and the long, curved horns on the helm.

Now, to package it up and leave it at the location.

~

Setting the heavy box down at the designated location, outside a house in the Goblet, Shio places the calligraphed card, wishing a happy nameday to the recipient, from "A", and then knocks on the door before quickly departing, as instructed in the letter.

I hope that she enjoys the gift from her partner. I wonder why all the smoke and mirrors.

May the Kami bless both your nameday and your love.

[rothalion]

@salveticn​ said:       (the cocktail emoji, I'm from mobile sorry!!) blowing bubbles in their drink through the straw!!

|  Food Memes | Accepting |

  Amaurot always had so many rules - sophistication and similarity ever at the top of the list. Still, Azem cared little for them - though he followed some there were others he was more forward in ignoring.

  Thankfully behind closed doors it didn’t seem to matter all that much - Azem gladly having tossed aside his plain white mask and thrown down his hood to show his rather different visage from the rest. Hythlodaeus was quite the prankster, yet Azem was equally weird and quite liked the rather expressive, long pointed ears he had since garnered at the hands of his friend’s magics.

  Idly does Azem swing legs from his stool, seated across from Elidibus at the table and humming as he carefully blew bubbles into his iced tea. He grinned over at the other Ancient, playfully twitching those long, strange ears of his.

  “Do have some fun, my friend! ‘Tis the little things, yes?” he suggested on brief pause in his antics, before once more dipping his head to blow more bubbles - only to snort and accidentally spill some of the contents in the abrupt burst of air through the straw. He burst into hearty laughter, eyes twinkling. “Well! Maybe more careful than I.”

[salveticn-a]

🍫! from atlas

@referentblood || x

     it was one of those days . one of those in which the emissary was overwhelmed by the tasks of his own duty that he forgot to eat .   for someone who enjoyed food and considered it a source of happiness   ( his source of happiness )   , he sure tended to forget at times .   he could consider himself lucky to have kind-hearted souls like atlas who found the time to bring him something so that his stomach wouldn’t suffer as he hastly worked on his papers .

     he regarded the other with a tired smile and sore eyes -- the visage of a young man who had once again stayed up late . he had been holding his face all the time and wrote with the other hand , or his cheek would not have the stamp of his hand on it . rubbing it with the sleeve of his white robe in the hope it goes away , he placed down his pen on the table and finally allowed his hand a minute to rest . the cramps hurt a lot more now that he stopped ...

     ❝ atlas , yes ! w-what can i do for --  ❞   curious eyes peered at the box he carried in his hands ; the transparent lid allowed his sore eyes to catch a glimpse of the delicacies atlas prepared for him . for what reason exactly ? elidibus felt as though he was not deserving of his kindness .   oh , apple slices !

     ❝ is this for me ? ❞   if it was handed to him , it meant it was for him , wasn’t it ?    ❝ atlas , you didn’t have to . i -- hmm ... i thank you , but ... ❞   ... but you forgot to bring a fork .   ❝ ... you didn’t have to ...❞   that was fine . not having a fork never stopped him from eating .

[voidsentprinces]

in transformation I reveal my truth! I am Elidibus!

In transportation I reveal my truth! I am the elidiBus!

In this archive I shall reveal your selection of truths! I am Silibus!

In my collection you will find media true! I am Omnibus!

In my days of yore my visage was large and true! I am Big Chungus!

I am a dead meme reborn for the imposter shall be made true! I am Elidimungus!

[tenuuchlegch]

🌺

What I like about YOU~

❃ "Elidibus is a devoted soul, whose loyalty and commitment persevered through countless eons. There is a saying among my people- suffer from your own rule. To paraphrase facing suffering and consequences is better if it is of your own volition and not the will of others. Even if his memories were muddled by time, I do believe he still had a choice and maybe he realized what consequences his choice might entail. Nevertheless he went through with it, so I cannot help but be somewhat impressed by his enduring stance on the choice he made."

Ananke:

𓆙 "He is such a hard-working young man and quite formal too. It is little wonder why he was chosen as Emissary of the Convocation..." The man was talented, to be certain. However whenever Ananke's violet pools fixated upon his visage, she could not help but almost feel pitiful towards him. He was going to suffer through something, but traveler had yet to deduce what.

[unsundered-lahabrea]

Continued from here || @salveticn​

    Playing with food was perhaps not the best solution and, to be honest, even disgusted those who found it loathsome to see someone touch food with their hands. But for Elidibus, touching food was a sign of appreciation for the food itself. And although playing with food made him look like the immature individual, he simply was capable enough to shrug such thoughts off his shoulders without remorse. He had turned his omelette into a smiling mouth, the diced cherry tomatoes into a blush, and the two slices of bacon positioned vertically into eyes. He, then, showed his creation to Lahabrea, sitting next to him, with a proud smile gracing his features.

    “It’s happy to see you!”

The most recent Lahabrea does not smile often, that is a well known fact of life in Amaurot. Few have ever seen him without his telltale frown even under the mask, and of those few who have, most have seen him when engrossed in giving a lecture, a speech or when addressing his creations.

It is through fault of no-one, in truth, it is merely his default expression. That said, despite how his temper will bring out the worst of him as the days go by, after the Sundering, these are peaceful days, and he regards Elidibus with a faint, polite curiosity as the younger member of the Convocation plays with his food.

And when Elidibus finishes, when Lahabrea is faced with a visage fashioned from food, there is a moment of silence.

Had there been other witnesses, some might have expected a catastrophe. Some might have turned their faces. Some would, most certainly, have fainted: Lahabrea regarded the plate with seriousness, before letting out a faint snort of amusement and then nodding.

“So it seems, Elidibus.”

[dutysend]

i gotta say, I Gotta Say i am Very Into the idea of writing elidibus in the days very soon after the sundering, taking the visage of the first warrior of light and parading around various shards bringing them to ruin. i can’t stop thinking abt the line humanity’s first hero, and it’s final hope !  from the seat of sacrifice. striving to embody that guiding light for the sundered, yet always working towards restoring amaurot, toward zodiark and his brethren. 

   ( also — a verse where he meets the wol in this form/visage. * chefs kiss * Good Stuff. )

[lucienfairfucked]

see... the thing is, I never wanted a fight between Emet-Selch and Dayir (+ Ishan). just like I never wanted a fight between Dayir and the Primals. or Zenos (luckily, Ishan’s battle-lust came in handy here). or anyone. in fact, Ishan’s existence was originally just a plot device because I needed someone to do the hacky-slashy thing when necessary, and I refused to put Dayir in positions ey didn’t want to be in / weren’t made for.

point blank, I don’t like combat. I don’t find it interesting outside of pure gameplay. I certainly don’t want to write about it. and I’m always self-conscious about how noncombative my OCs tend to be, because ... well, aren’t these stories all about fighting? why am I here, then?

but, you know what, fuck it. I’m tired of pretending I don’t want a completely different kind of confrontation between Hades and his sundered Azem. he had already done his job and done it well, and is only here because his bros kept cocking things up and eventually getting permadead. he is infinitely tired (look at his posture and visage and tell me that isn’t the most exhausted man you’ve ever seen) and honestly wishes to join them in permadeath. but this new Azem incarnation has intrigued him. has there been enough Rejoinings for Azem’s soul to finally see him, to know him? 

maybe Azem will come with him, into the dark.

certainly not, as we find out; Azem is not nearly as tired as he is. and Dayir (and Ishan, although he doesn’t meet Ishan until the very end) is something new. ey lack the desire to fight. ey do not see an enemy in Emet-Selch, despite the fact that literally everyone else in eir company does, nor in any of the Ascians. when he visited, Elidibus had spoken in utter bafflement about what he’d witnessed -- the “Warrior of Light” mourning Lahabrea even as everyone celebrated the victory that ey emself had secured. 

but the difference is that Emet-Selch wishes to go to his rest -- and Dayir wishes to send him. not out of malice, not to get him out of eir way, but because Dayir has seen what has become of Hades, and wishes to free him of it.

there is no need for a fight. Dayir’s story is not a video game. Emet-Selch reenacts the Final Days in order to enact the death he should have had, and draws Dayir down into Amaurot so he will not be alone when he goes.

(Dayir is Azem’s love, but Ishan on the other hand is Azem’s fury. so he definitely spoils for a fight when he finally yeets himself to the First and finds out what’s happening. he carries the black hole that is the Thirteenth world with him, and he demands recompense. but there is none to be had. there is only the doom of the Unsundered, one by one, and the quelling of the Ardor... and Ishan, ironically, seeking his own rejoining through the destruction of himself. but that’s another tale, not yet told.)

[tea-and-conspiracy]

Fragments of Persephone (WoL AU)

“Chairwoman,” Emet-Selch called.

The Chairwoman startled awake. She looked left, then right, finally coming to rest her gaze on Lahabrea.

“Forgive me,” she said, clearing her throat.

“It’s been a long many days for all of us.” Lahabrea bowed his head. “But I am finished.”

“Of course.” She straightened. “All in favor of the motion?”

“Aye,” rang the room.

She tapped her gavel. “Motion passes unanimously. Academia Anodyne will have the resources it needs.”

“Thank you, my friends.” Lahabrea sat down.

“Are there any further orders of business?

Emet-Selch stood. “I move that we limit speaking time for all debaters to five minutes each.”

“Seconded,” Elidibus said, hiding his laughter behind a cough.

The Chairwoman reached up to pull her hood just a little bit lower. Emet-Selch watched her delightedly. Nobody could see his expression any more than they could hers, but he knew that behind her mask lay a grin.

“It has been properly moved and seconded that speaking time be limited to five minutes,” she said. “Is there any debate?”

Lahabrea shot to his feet.

~*~

“You’re making individuality a habit.”

Persephone laughed, turning to face him. It was so strange to see anyone without their mask and hood, but her most of all – because against his better judgment, he liked it.

“Is it breaking the rules if no one is around to see you break them?” she asked. “Besides…I think we deserve to enjoy the fruits of our efforts. The air is so sweet now that we’ve smothered that awful corruption.”

He folded his arms. “Lahabrea’s occasionally useful.”

“Does everything you create come out frowning, Hades?” She grinned, reaching up to pull back his hood. Emet-Selch almost stopped her, but instead removed his mask himself. The sunlight stung at his eyes. “Amaurot can be so gloomy. Sometimes I miss the sun.”

“Speak for yourself.” He squinted, earning a laugh for his efforts. “Why not build a little retreat out here then? Someplace to recover from all this recent madness.”

She tilted her head, considering that. “…Will you build with me?”

Emet-Selch blinked. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever shared a creation with her. “You needn’t even ask, my dear.”

Persephone reached for his hands, entwining her fingers with his. He pulled her in close and leaned his forehead to hers. The touch of her aether immediately gave him goosebumps – it was so hot, so vibrant, no different from the sun’s glare overhead.

“You’re so cold…” she whispered, surprised. “It’s…nice.”

“Had you something in mind?” he asked. “Or shall we improvise?”

“You’re the architect.” Her eyes danced. “You take the lead.”

Creation wasn’t necessarily intimate for Amaurotines, mundane as it was – but it could be. What mattered was the intent, and he sensed her need to be close to him. The past few months had been such chaos, ever since a strange anomaly had been found consuming the foothills. The Council had spent too many sleepless nights trying to reverse it – and now that they had, they shared each other’s relief.

He pulled her to him, envisioning a cozy villa in his mind. Nothing fancy – she hated that – but someplace where she could rest by the water and drink in the sun. He felt her own idea – a menagerie by the pool, a small orchard, a tidy garden. And…

“You are not adding that. I forbid it.” He laughed.

“No?” He’d never seen anyone so impish. “It’d be the talk of the town.”

“That’s exactly what concerns me, my dear.”

“Oh, very well.”

They fell silent then, embracing as they focused on bringing their creation to life. The villa surged into being with a burst of air, rippling the grass around them and sending their robes fluttering like flags. The two looked upon their work with pride. Persephone beamed.

“It’s perfect.”

“Of course it is. I built it.”

She laughed, giving him a playful nudge. “Well, why don’t we--”

A sudden sharp crack startled them both. They whirled in time to see the roof cave in. Persephone staggered backward.

“What…”

“No…” Emet-Selch clenched his fists. “No! It worked, dammit! The land was healed!”

“It’s already reverting to the way it was…” She trembled, her gaze going somewhere through the villa walls. “That means…that means this isn’t just on the surface…”

He shook his head. “We’ll get Anodyne back to work on this, surely it’s just a matter of adjusting Lahabrea’s initial equations.”

Persephone nodded, but the light had faded from her eyes.

 ~*~

“We found her!” Elidibus stormed into the room, seething. “She’s going to do it.”

Emet-Selch didn’t respond.

“If we act now we might still have time to disrupt the ritual.”

Emet turned away. Zodiark hung above the shattered city, his draconian visage frozen in a grisly scowl. “…Do whatever you want.”

“What is the matter with you?” Lahabrea was incredulous. “After we’ve come this far, we can’t let her destroy everything!”

“She already has,” Emet-Selch murmured.

 ~*~

They’d removed their masks and hoods, just as Persephone had all those years ago. The followers of Hydaelyn had suddenly seen fit to shun everything the Amaurotine stood for. They arranged in quiet defiance alongside their goddess, who shone so brightly that it pained the eyes. Emet-Selch stepped forward, and was received by a young man.

“I would speak with the Chairwoman,” Emet said. “Perhaps we may yet solve this peaceably.”

“The Chairwoman is gone,” the young man said. “She gave herself in sacrifice.”

“She…what?”

“But she left me a message for you, Architect: ‘I know you’ll never forgive me. But know that I love you all the same.’”