#((My Best Friend!)) - Alphinaud Leveilleur

[goobstergoo]

they’re besties :^))

[pom-pom-party]

Base Tag Dump;; Unique ones will be made for specific thread interactions.

[the-littlest-kojin]

The Journal of Shio Shinju: The Coming Dawn (Dawntrail, Journal I)

Spoilers for: MSQ up through "The Coming Dawn".

Today, I was asked by Erenville to meet a client - not as Warrior of Light, but as a hero and adventurer. It is... Pleasant, to have someone recall that I do not wish to be always seen as the hero of the land.

The client is a Xbr'aal by the name of Wuk Lamat, who was recommended my services by Erenville. He is very careful with his words, but knowing that he has tacitly endorsed the task that Wuk Lamat wishes is enlightening, even if he is loathe to show it.

To demonstrate that I am sufficiently skilled for her task, Wuk Lamat had me accompany her for a miscellaneous task upon the Isle of Haam, wherein we dispatched an overgrown colibri - the kind of thing I used to do in the days before the Scions as odd jobs for the Adventurer's Guild. Apparently, my prowess with the blade was enough to convince her to lay out the task she wished of me, in addition to a bevy of personal details about her.

Wuk Lamat is the child of Gulool Ja Ja, Dawnservant of Tuliyollal - nation and capital city both - which lies at the heart of governance of Tural. It seems that there is to be a succession, as the current Dawnservant is aging past his prime, and so four claimants have stepped up. Erenville and Wuk Lamat both are rather quiet on the subject of most of the claimants, but one of them is "A man who is too ambitious by half", who "cannot be allowed to rule".

Concerning as this is, apparently Gulool Ja Ja expressly encourages the claimants seeking aid from outside of Tural, and so Wuk Lamat reached out to Erenville, who she considers a close friend. (Erenville professes to consider her an acquaintance at best, but see my note above, regarding whom exactly he recommended for her trial.) I was assured I do not need to give an answer this day, and so I will return to my room to ponder this - seeing a new land will be a wonder and a relief, and to be hired as what seems to be, in essence, a bodyguard sounds like a refreshing reprieve from my usual fare.

As a client, Wuk Lamat seems... Dishonest, but not in a malicious way. She lies as casually as breathing, but in the way that I have witnessed many people do when they are insecure, afraid, or both. She lies about her capabilities, and she lies about those lies, in order to make me like her. It accomplishes the opposite. But, I have worked for worse clients. I could work for her, easily enough. Leaders lie all the time. She seems to affect a gregarious visage when the mood strikes her, I could very easily see her rubbing elbows with Nanamo, Aymeric, and suchlike. She could very easily be a leader with such a skillset.

But I do not think she would make a good leader.

I think I shall have to see this other claimant with my own eyes - the one who is "too ambitious by half". Take his measure for myself.

Side-note: Investigate Turali language, a constructed language of all of the peoples of Tuliyollal, attain fluency without Echo ASAP.

Before I was able to retire to my chambers for rest, the (allegedly) retired Scions waylaid me - specifically with Alisaie hearing about the new job, and the twins setting out to attain their own invitation from Wuk Lamat to join the voyage to Tural - to further their goals of rebuilding Garlemald. Loathe as I am to share yet more of my time with the Scions, I can only hope that they recall that I am no longer their employee and no longer required to feign friendship with them. Cordiality shall be my refuge, I feel - Grandfather wishes me to not let asymmetrical feelings fester in my mind, and so I shall not.

I do, however, wish that whomever was primarily responsible for tutoring the Leveilleur twins taught them how to ask things, rather than assume or state them. Wuk Lamat has been polite and careful to always frame things as invitations or queries, and I hope that this habit of hers is not eroded by exposure to Alphinaud and Alisaie.

Krile, on the other hand, concerns me considerably less. While I have enough familiarity with her tactics vis-a-vis interpersonal relationships to not trust her (such as her manipulations with Estinien), I can understand her desire for an understanding of family and legacy. I will support such as best I can, while maintaining a cordial distance - although, if it comes to a conflict of her own interests against that of Wuk Lamat's claim for the throne... I cannot rightly say.

Too much unknown, too much hinging on the mystery of this "unfit claimant".

[selnyam]

refuse — for the single-word drive!

I was already working on a story in my head, so I used this to put it down and also made some poses to go with it. SPOILERS FOR DAWNTRAIL takes place after the MSQ

 A light evening rain was falling upon Tuliyollal.  It was a pleasant evening, the city going about it’s day to day.  Many were still reeling from the attacks, but the city had been defended thanks to the Dawnservants, so citizens were returning to life as usual.   One of the heroes who had helped the Vow of Resolve was sitting in her room at the For’ard Cabins.  The Viera woman had changed into some comfortable clothes, her armour and axe set aside until needed again.  A simple draped top and a pair of shorts, Flidais Oakclamber sat on the patio watching the rain.

Her mind was a whirl of emotions and thoughts.   This trip had started simple enough, be bodyguard to her adopted children the Leveilleur twins, and her best friend Krile.  Also to be advice and backup to the Third Promise Wuk Lamat on her Rite of Succession.  She’d almost refused the offer, not wanting to get involved in a foreign lands politics.  Some convincing from her wife and her wife’s boyfriend G’raha had changed her mind.  When else would she get this opportunity?  She wouldn’t be taking the lead, simply following and defending if needed.  One boat ride later and here she was.  The Rite of Succession had gone well, surprisingly.  For the most part Wuk Lamat, or Lamaty’i as she’d asked to be called, had done the work.  The Viera Warrior just nodding and helping when needed, only a few times needing to bring her axe and combat skills to bear.  In return she’d gotten to spend time with the twins and Krile.  Time they’d not had together in this relaxed way ever!   Then the rite was over and things changed. Another Shard had been fused to the Source, bringing with it an invading army led by Lamaty’i’s brother.  They’d travelled to that lightning scarred land and that’s where things took a downturn.  Flidais was honestly grateful Lamaty’i was still calling the shots.  She wouldn’t have been as open and accepting, giving in to the darker parts of herself and storming the King, Hells save whoever got in her way.  Now that it was all over and the threat stopped however.  Duty and need were done, and she was left alone with her thoughts.   Which is why she was watching the rain and fighting back tears. A soft knock at the door, and the familiar voice of Wuk Lamat called from the other side. “Flidais?  Are you in here?”  the Veira’s long floppy ears detected the sound of nervous shuffling outside then a second knock game “I am coming in to check, Nobody has seen you in a day and we are worried.”  The door creaked open and Flidais turned her head, forcing a smile.  Wuk Lamat, the Vow of Resolve stepped into the room.  Instead of her usual clothing, she was wearing an orange floral patterned button up shirt and a coeurl patterned tanga around her waist.  Flidais blinked a few times, and waved her hand at the attire with a curious expression.  Lamaty’i looked down and smiled nervously

“This? Oh, Alisaie got them for me.  Said they would look good and that you would approve.”  She rubbed at the back of her head, long tail swishing anxiously.  Flidais chuckled and raised her hands to sign. [She was right.  You look good.]  the Viera’s smile slowly faded as she turned to look back out the storm as faint thunder rumbled.  Lamaty’i moved closer to the couch where Flidais was sitting.  “Are you alright?  Nobody has seen you and we are all worried.  Alphinaud and Shtola said I should give you space, but… i…”  She trailed off and looked out at the rain, then back to the door.  “I can go if you need space.”  She turned to leave but Flidais reached up and caught her arm.  The Viera slowly shook her head, then gently tugged her hand until the Hrothgar sat next to her.  The pink haired woman held her hand for a moment longer, collecting herself.  It was reminiscent of a dirigible flight they had taken during the Rite.  Carefully and slowly Flidais let go, raising her hands to start to sign.  She went slowly, as Lamaty’i was still learning how the mute warrior communicated, and it was hard to express the turmoil of thoughts in her mind. [I have told I lost my memories?]  She started, thinking of the boat ride here from Sharlyan and getting to know each other.  Talking about some of her past adventures. Her wife Metrina, Krile, and the twins helping teach Wuk Lamat basic finger spelling, many notebooks being filled when writing to speak was easier.  Lamaty’i nodded, gaze focused on the Viera’s scarred and calloused hands.  She continued [I lost them years ago.  Never returned.  Taking memories…]  She hesitated and her hands shook.  

Lamaty’i reached behind them to a nearby desk, where a notebook and pen sat.  She handed it to Flidais, a soft expression on her face.  Flidais signed her thanks, her hands shaking too much to fingers spell accurately.  Slowly she wrote onto the paper, with her friend waiting patiently.  “It horrified and terrified me.  To be so accepting of having memories removed.  Especially those of loved ones!”  she took a deep breath then wrote some more “that wasn’t the hardest part though.  I feel awful for this, but I could scarcely watch you all.  Seeing you with Namikaa, Krile getting to meet her parents, Cahcuia.”  a few tears fell on to the paper, and Lamaty’i placed her hand on the Viera’s shoulder.  “There is no family for me.  I’ll never meet my parents, never learn who they were. And K'shai, Ysayle... I'll never get to say…”  she started crying, unable to continue writing.  The Vow of Resolve gently took the notebook and read it.  Then she reached over, arms wrapping around Flidais in a tight hug.  As the rain splattered and fell on to the deck nearby the two women simply held each other.  Flidais cried and cried, shoulders shaking as she vented her fears, frustration, and loss. After what felt like long moments the Viera took a deep breath and pulled back, wiping at her eyes.  Wuk Lamat softly smiled and spoke.

“Thank you for sharing with me.  I wish we had known in the moment, we could have supported you then.  It would not have taken away from our moments.  You are very important to us! We… I love you.”  The lionesses' ears dropped a little, and she shyly looked away. “I mean that you know.  Not just as family.  Over our time together I developed feelings for you.  It is why I asked you to stay.”  She suddenly waved her arms, trying to play it off.  Flidais wiped a tear away, looking to the woman in front of her as she stammered and continued. “I know you can’t stay, that you have other partners.  I  don’t want to get in the way of that or.. or… “  her words were cut off as Flidais hugged her again, squeezing her in her muscular warrior’s arms.  Then to the Dawnservants surprise, The Warrior of Light kissed her.  A soft lingering kiss, which Lamaty’i returned once her surprise wore off.  Flidais pulled back, her hands moving forward to sign [Please.  I can’t promise anything. Please.  I can’t sleep alone tonight.  Stay?]  Gently Lamaty’i pressed her forehead to the Viera’s, smiling from ear to ear. “How can I refuse?”

[ayakamizu]

FFXIV Write 2024 Day 6 - Halcyon

Halcyon: Adjective. Happy; blissful; carefree. Characters: Alisaie Leveilleur, Lyse Hext, Ayaka Mizushima (WoL) Expansion: Stormblood Rating: G Notes: Taking a stab at Alisaie's POV for this one! A relaxing dip in Kugane's hot springs after touring the city for a few hours. No explicit Stormblood spoilers.

“By the Twelve, you weren’t exaggerating,” Alisaie breathed out, sinking further into the water. Her eyes slipped closed in bliss. “A trip to the hot springs was needed!”

Ayaka’s chuckle echoed in the space. “We could hardly visit Kugane without enjoying the hot springs here.” Alisaie picked up on the sound of her slipping into the water, and felt the way it rippled in her wake. It was far more graceful of an entrance than either Alisaie or Lyse’s own dips into the pool. “And after a day of touring the city, this was the best way to end it off.”

“Agreed,” Lyse groaned, throwing her head back and resting it against one of the large rocks. Subtly, Alisaie peeked over at Ayaka and resisted the urge to smirk at the way the Auri woman swallowed heavily. “After all the walking we did today, my legs are killing me!”

“Aren’t you a fighter?” Alisaie teased, reaching over to poke Lyse in the shoulder. She gave an indigent “hey!” in response, trying to move away. “How are your legs more tired than mine?”

“She was running around more,” Ayaka defended, no doubt recalling the way Lyse would take off in the direction of whatever caught her eye. “I did warn you the staircases in Kugane were steep.”

“I know,” Lyse sighed, drawing one of her knees up until it peeked out of the water. From her view, she could see the way the woman was massaging her calves. “And you took those steps everyday when you lived here?”

“At a much slower pace,” Ayaka reminded her, laughing a bit. “Unless I was late for school. Though, that usually involved running down the stairs instead.”

That seemed to launch Lyse into a series of questions about what Ayaka’s school years were like. What was school like in Kugane? What did she do? Study? How long had she been in school? All the questions were taken with that characteristic Warrior of Light patience they all knew the Auri woman possessed. 

Alisaie listened as Ayaka explained the school system in Kugane (they started school in spring and ended in the following spring, but they had breaks in summer and winter), what subjects they were required to learn, the fact that Ayaka’s duties to the shrine meant she didn’t participate in the same activities as her classmates (“Perhaps I would’ve tried my hand at kendo. Archery would’ve been more expected though.”), and that Ayaka had graduated five years ago.

(None of them try to think of what happened five years ago. The question was on the tip of her tongue—had Dalamud’s fall been visible from Kugane? What had that been like to witness?)

“My friend and I would regularly visit the hot springs though,” Ayaka recalled, smiling at the memory. She nodded to the large, wooden divide between the two sides of the building. “Some of our male classmates would be there. They were bigger gossips than expected!”

Alisaie snorted. If they were anything like Alphinaud—the wannabe flirt in their school days—then she could only imagine some of the things they whispered to each other.

“They tried daring each other to take a peek on the women’s side,” Ayaka continued, shaking her head. “Keiko—my friend—shouted at them to try and see what would happen. At that moment it had been mortifying, but now it’s funny to recall how badly they all startled.”

“It sounds like you have some fond memories of Kugane,” Lyse commented, a soft smile gracing her lips. It was one of those times that Alisaie understood Ayaka’s budding crush on the blonde.

“I do,” Ayaka agreed, slumping further into the water. “I didn’t realize how badly I missed it until we were forced to come here.”

Alisaie can’t recall—in the short amount of time she’s spent with Ayaka—having seen the woman look as relaxed and happy as she did when they stepped off the boat. She knows, through Alphinaud and Urianger mainly, that Ayaka’s time in Eorzea hasn’t been the easiest. Some of it she threw herself head first into, but some of the other things almost felt like the universe was playing with her.

So it was… nice. Seeing her like this. Not exactly carefree (“She doesn’t tend to let her guard down anymore,” Alphinaud warned, frowning.), but as close to it as she could in this moment. If that meant having an unobstructed view of the entrance to the women’s changing room, then they could understand that. At that moment, Ayaka still looked happy and that was all Alisaie could ask for.

[azems-familiar]

uno reversing with emet specifically for Seika

fuck you skdgjhsdjhg

this is 3k words long, very relevant to their verse if i ever write more of it, and has a decent focus on emetraha also, so here's your AO3 link if you'd like to support it there too!

-

The Warrior of Light is in the First.

Emet-Selch had felt it when the Exarch summoned her, that rush of aether and the Tower’s activation tugging at his senses where he’d been wandering Lakeland at a distance, watching one of the so-called Virtues make its unerring way towards civilization. He hadn’t gone looking at the time, but he’d known all the same; it was the obvious culmination of the Exarch’s decades-long study on summoning spells and voidgates. Of the past five years of plucking the Scions of the Seventh Dawn across the rift, one by one, a mistake at a time. Her appearance had heralded the beginning of the endgame in truth, and thus he had determined to avoid the Tower (no matter that it…disappoints him to leave behind his regular teatime meetings with the only other intelligent soul this side of the rift) until he made his last moves, that he might spare both he and the Exarch the…difficulty. Neither of them are fools enough to let their conviction waver, this near to the end, but it will be far simpler to remove the temptation all the same.

Or so he had thought.

The Exarch had sent the Warrior of Light off to Eulmore, it seems, to collect the young Leveilleur twin, and at the time Emet-Selch had thought it an excellent opportunity to observe her in action - though he had not expected her to discern the truth of Vauthry’s identity, and there was little chance to see her combat prowess, Emet-Selch does not need to witness either of those firsthand. He knows more than enough about her skill at arms from the truths of Lahabrea’s, Igeyorhm’s, and Nabriales’s demises, and from Elidibus’s account. No, he wishes to see her around others, and her response to Eulmore’s stagnant society had seemed an excellent litmus test for a hero.

At least until he laid eyes on her soul, of course. 

Leaning against the entrance to Vauthry’s chambers, Emet-Selch stares at that soft green, a shade as familiar to him as his own heartbeat despite the eons it has been since he’s seen it, and swallows down the frankly-hysterical laugh that wants to burst from his chest at the sight. Of course she would interfere here, after everything. Azem had ever been fond of causing mischief and ruining his best-laid plans; it was why Hythlodaeus had befriended her so easily as children. They had both taken such great delight in ganging up on him, even when Venat had caught her attention and her career path and taken her away, and she had begun to spend less and less time in Amaurot and their company. That cheerful delight had never disappeared, not until the very end.

Not until they stood across from each other in the Convocation’s chamber, masks and hoods set aside, and she declared this all wrong and told him that she would act as her Seat demanded in this matter, no matter that it set her against their collective will. That he should remember her as Azem, not the shadow of the childhood friend who had followed him around everywhere he went, begging for his attention.

He had not said, you have not followed me anywhere since the moment you met Venat and she offered you a smile and a compliment. He had not said, I am asking you to stay because I have loved you since the moment I knew what love was and I fear for you, should you leave Amaurot now. 

He had said, I, too, act as my Seat and this body demands, and should you consider yourself more knowledgeable and more moral than it, you are free to resign your Seat.

…no wonder Hydaelyn chose as She did. She too would have likely found the draw to this particular soul unbearable. How many eons have they all been alone?

He watches as she and Alphinaud defy Vauthry for the sake of a simple Mystel child, as she bares sharp teeth and hisses out a threat that Alphinaud interrupts, as her aether rises around her as though she intends to cast a spell-

He stops.

Emet-Selch has been in the First for a century. He is more than familiar with the Light and the way it taints - and the Warrior’s corporeal and incorporeal aether both are saturated with it, her balance already perilously tipped. If the Exarch’s plan is to have her kill the Lightwardens and absorb their aether, she will too-easily fail and turn, he thinks distantly, in some vain attempt to avoid the horror dawning in the pit of his stomach like acid. Because- Hydaelyn’s magic is heavy on her, brand and ward in one, and…

There is only one way one of Hydaelyn’s Chosen would lose their aetheric balance to the Light.

He should leave it. He should. This is the advantage he needs to solidly win his game with the Exarch and push the First into Rejoining; he cannot prioritize one life, one soul, above all else. But she bears Azem’s soul, and when she turns to leave the chamber behind her face is the same, soft and warm, indigo eyes and deep violet-brown hair framing it, despite the ivory scales across her cheeks and nose and forehead. The soft glow of the limbal rings surrounding her pupils is nearly enough to let him imagine the light of ages past in them, and her determined expression is horribly familiar. There is a knife between his ribs, twisting with every breath, and while usually it would herald loneliness now it is merely the strength of his longing, and he hardly manages to teleport himself away before she catches sight of him, reeling with the force of it. Azem had turned away once, but that was before Hydaelyn Sundered the star; he is near-certain that if this reincarnation of her, semi-translucent soul and imitation face or no, has anything near her morals and beliefs, she could be made to see the necessity of their work, the duty he bears. Diplomacy could succeed where challenges via combat have failed.

But if she is tempered. If Hydaelyn’s will holds sway over her own - because while She and Zodiark are not alike the primals of the Sundered’s knowing, and do not temper the same, if Hydaelyn did this to Her own champion it was purposeful and thus must be for the purpose of control - she will never be able to choose anything but this supposedly-righteous crusade. And she will never know what she is bound to, and with her strength, should she survive saving the First, somehow, his people will fall and be forgotten. And Hydaelyn has, in the past, at least done Her heroes the kindness of letting them choose to martyr themselves for Her cause, even if She has lied terribly to them to achieve it; that She does not do so now makes something like bile rise up in the back of his throat.

He had never approved of Venat’s relationship with Azem - it had begun when Psyche was still her student, and they were traveling the star together, mentor and apprentice doing the Seat of Azem’s duty. Psyche had only been a few years older than Venat’s own son, but she was old enough to make her own decisions, even if he felt it certain that Venat had been inappropriate in encouraging her affections. But Emet-Selch had even then been self-aware enough to know much of his dislike and disapproval was due to jealousy - he had hated the way Psyche turned away from him and Hythlodaeus to chase her mentor across Etheirys, the way the home he shared with his partner had ever felt slightly cold without her presence, the way they had both loved her so dearly and she had never once chosen them.

He has enough tenuous faith in Hydaelyn’s morals, despite how much She had changed upon becoming a goddess, to hope that She has done nothing untoward with this young hero who knows so little of their past. But the Warrior is unmistakably tempered, and there is only one reason he can imagine why.

He cannot let this stand, not without at least making an attempt to stop it.

Emet-Selch steps through another portal, this one depositing him directly into the Ocular - the Exarch knows a great many things, but this…he has to hope that this man, with his encyclopedic knowledge of the Ascians and his eight-times-Rejoined soul, is unaware of the state of the hero he has summoned to save his reflection. The idea that the Exarch would willingly use…they are, of course, two sides of the same coin, and the Exarch is as willing to manipulate others to achieve his goals as Emet-Selch is. But this is different, if only for the identity of that evergreen soul.

“Tell me you don’t know,” he demands, bursting through the door into the Umbilicus with nary a warning or a greeting, despite how long it has been since their last meeting. The Exarch is seated at his desk at the far end of the room, studying something from an Allagan tomestone, hooded and robed as he ever is, but his head snaps up at Emet-Selch’s entrance, and for a moment he simply stares.

“...I…imagine there are quite a few things I don’t know,” he says after a moment, confusion clear in his voice, and Emet-Selch grits his teeth and crosses his arms over his chest, fighting back the urge to snap. “Could you be more specific?”

“The Warrior of Light is tempered, Exarch,” he says slowly, enunciating the words over-clearly. “If you have summoned her out of ignorance for the fact, then that is forgivable; if you intend to use that against her for your world’s salvation, I will be greatly displeased.”

The Exarch stares, obvious despite his cowl, mouth opening slightly, and he has never been a stellar enough actor to fake this, at least. Emet-Selch finds himself relaxing slightly despite himself. “Tempered- how? Hydaelyn’s blessing protects those with the Echo!”

Grimly, Emet-Selch says, “It does not protect them from Her. The Warrior’s aether and soul are both corrupted by Light already, despite not slaying a single sin eater; the signs are unmistakable to my sight. You were unaware, then?” Despite your likely-future knowledge, he does not add, but he thinks he does not need to. The Exarch knows he suspects.

“...what do you mean, from…from Her…no,” the Exarch gasps softly, the implication hitting him with all the force of a spell; Emet-Selch can see the way he reels, the way he pales, in real time. “No, She…then- Zodiark? Please, tell me He isn’t…He didn’t…”

There is an aching horror in his voice, realization mixed with some kind of sickness, and it softens Emet-Selch; he crosses the room to the desk and leans against it with a sigh, nodding his head once. “Eldest and most powerful of primals,” he confirms. “My people created them, rather than the summoning you are familiar with; their tempering method is different, and we are not slaves to their will. Yet Hydaelyn does not temper, usually, and in fact wards Her Chosen against aetheric corruption, which leaves me terribly suspicious as to the reason the Warrior has been subjected to it - especially given her identity. As for my brethren…we gave Zodiark life to save our star from terrible calamity, and even now He acts in that capacity. Do not insult my conviction, or this conversation will be over.”

“...there was never any…I…I see,” the Exarch says softly, and lets out a shuddering breath, slumping into his desk. “Then why would She…?”

It is a foolish, aching moment of sentiment that has Emet-Selch shift one gloved hand to rest over the Exarch’s crystal one. “I have my suspicions,” he admits. “It is a long tale, however, and while I swear to tell it to you, at the moment I find myself more invested in finding a way to separate her from Hydaelyn’s clutches, that she might know the truth of our duty and our conflict, and make her own decision. You must know that with her aetheric balance compromised, she will not successfully contain the Light of the First without being consumed by it - aid me in freeing her from Hydaelyn’s influence, and I swear to you I will aid you in return in whatever your contingency might be.”

He knows it is a foolish hope, in part. He knows he sounds desperate, and that he is placing all his hopes in one basket, guaranteeing failure and defeat should her own conviction to Hydaelyn prove true despite it all. But he must make it anyway, even should it be doomed to failure, even should he be doomed to put his duty over Azem’s soul and fight anyway. The memory of her face, of her soul, haunts him the way Azem’s last words do - he cannot simply let her fade into the Lifestream or turn away from him once more without one last attempt. Elidibus will forgive him for this, if it succeeds.

“...aye,” the Exarch says softly, and turns his hand to thread their fingers together. (If he pretends not to notice, then he does not have to pull away.) “I think I can swear that. But- for my own peace of mind, if nothing else- please. Whatever cure we find for her tempering - allow us to also use it on you. If…if only to erase the doubt in my heart.” He lets out a breath and offers a small, tremulous smile. “Perhaps…if this process takes too long, we could find something useful to do with the Light that benefits the both of us…?”

“...perhaps,” Emet-Selch agrees after a moment. “My duty remains absolute, whatever else I desire, but any middle road that does not destroy the both of our duties in the walking of it is one I am open to discussing. And where the Warrior of Light is concerned…” He looks off into the distance of the room, gaze unfocused, and for a moment he could almost see Psyche before she was Azem, laughing brightly, her hair streaming out behind her. “...I must believe she will make the choice she would not before. I must.”

He does not know if he could take her turning away from him once more, even if this is not her in truth.

“...perhaps in the end, she will,” the Exarch murmurs, rubbing a thumb over the back of Emet-Selch’s hand. His other hand rests over the golden constellation engraved in his crystal arm, that terrible, blatant mark of Emet-Selch’s unavoidable affections - a care he cannot truly deny, no matter how he avoids it.

For a moment, Emet-Selch merely watches him, the lines of his face cast into shadow by the depths of his cowl. His eyes, Emet-Selch knows, are a vibrant red, and what fringes of his hair he’s seen are bleached blue-white; there are no ghosts lurking in the curve of his nose or the warmth of his smile, no constant reminder of the past he so longs to restore, the people he so desperately misses, just an old, comfortable enmity. Perhaps that is what makes him so easy to care for - so easy to slip up around, because how many concessions has Emet-Selch made for this man, in the name of their game, when he could have simply struck the Exarch down upon his arrival in the First?

“A truce, then?” he asks softly - too softly, he knows, his voice betraying him in this, because the knowledge of the Warrior’s true identity has cracked something open in his chest that he can no longer bind closed. “On the condition we find an acceptable resolution to this dilemma, one that may let us truly consider this game of ours a draw.”

The Exarch stands and circles the desk, dropping Emet-Selch’s hand to pull him into a tight hug, a tremor in his flesh hand. Emet-Selch knows better than to give in, but he leans into the touch anyway, closing his eyes and leaning his head on the Exarch’s shoulder, slipping one arm loosely around his waist. “...as the only scenario in which I do not lose outright- aye. Aye, a truce. And I will not sleep until I find a suitable resolution.”

“You most certainly will,” Emet-Selch scolds, directing a sharp-eyed look up at the Exarch’s face without lifting his head. Foolish, foolish decision, but- if a truce truly is possible… “You are not wholly crystal yet, my dear Exarch, and I expect you to stay that way.”

“You shall simply have to arrive at a suitable conclusion before I must sleep, then.” There’s a ghost of a smile on the Exarch’s face and Emet-Selch reaches up to smooth one thumb over the corner of it, humming to himself, one eyebrow raised.

“Will I now,” he drawls. “You seem quite certain there is no other way to convince you to rest.”

It is a terrible, dangerous thing, hope, no matter that it is what Zodiark was formed from. Hope that the Warrior of Light can be made to make the choices he so desperately wishes for - that his long millennia alone in the dark may come to an end - that Hydaelyn may finally be brought to justice for Her crimes. That he will not have to stand against this enemy who has made the game enjoyable in truth for the first time in millennia. Terrible and dangerous…and yet he cannot let go of it all the same.

“Hm. I think you must be very persuasive,” the Exarch says, voice low and near-purring - and then he sighs and sobers, arm tightening around Emet-Selch’s back. “...we’ll cure her. I am not losing this chance.”

The steely determination in his voice is the same as when he has faced down sin eaters, Vauthry, and held together his city by force of will alone.

“Nor am I,” Emet-Selch promises - and then smirks, a sharp-edged, smug expression. “Now…shall we judge my skills in persuasion?”

[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

[unchangingeverchanging]

Welcome~💜 This is a "better" pinned post

Hello hello everyone (≧∇≦)ﾉ! This might be an attempt or fully commit to it as a better and updated pinned post, i will try and go through the character, AUs, and most prominent things about them! But first, a brief introduction about me!

Raghi is the name (or at least the online nickname), but you can call me whichever you like even if it was adressing me by my Wol! I casually play and obsess about games (the normal amount), mediocre Gposer but i try my best, pretty introverted and fairly shy around people so please don't take any offense if i'm barely answering/showing the same enthusiasm you show me 🙏🏻! I'm slowly trying to break out of my shell, and be assured i appreciate you all! also english isn't my first language, therefore, turn a blind eye to any typos i make :'3c.

with that being said lets start with the main thing!

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ The Wol: Auregie Chieve (canon)

Once a loyal paladin, now a brutal reaper. A Sharlayan born aristocrat, orphaned at the age of 12 after a garlean ambush as her and her parents were traveling the Black Shroud for business purposes, during the attack, along with the loss of her parents she sadly lost her left eye while attempting to flee which led her to wear an eyepatch for years, later on her husband gifted her a prosthetic eye to help and lift up her self esteem, she was also gifted a different colored eye by a dear friend of hers. She now lives happily with her small family back in Sharlayan. She has natural white hair with purple highlights, post 6.5 her hair was changed to black due to an incident and now in 7.0 it is half and half.

Age: mid-to-late 20s.

Relationship status: Married

No. of kids: 1 (for now)

Likes: Cats, sweets, coffee and teas, long hours of sleep and quiet.

Dislikes: Anyone getting in her way, the sea, loud and crowded places.

Hobbies: she likes to knit when she's bored.

Mini fact: She has Heterochromia and a cute heart mark on her cheek, these features are from her dad whom she resembles the most.

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Euphrosyne (ancient)

(Funny enough i named her that waaaay before the raid came out XD) Euphrosyne, or as she likes to be called Rafa, is Emet-Selch's little sister. She took upon the seat of Halmarut after she was choosen for it thanks to her affinity and talents in botony and mycology. She spent most of her time teaching in Akadaemia before the final days.

Age: Unknown.

Relationship status: Married, in a poly relationship.

No. of kids: 2

Likes: Books, plants obviously, creating new species, filling out paperworks.

Dislikes: Lahabrea (sorry laha lovers)

Mini fact: She is a Red and White mage. Her mask is the shape of a butterfly.

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Scion Auregie (AU):

Where she has not been blessed by the Echo, she leads an entirely different life. As a close friend to the Leveilleur family, she was taught by none other than master Louisoix before she finished her studies in the Studium. Auregie was encouraged by Moenbryda to acquire her Archon mark as she thought she fully deserved it. as how Yda and Moenbryda were close, so was Auregie with her that she developed a crush on her. Suffice to say she grieved for quiet some time, which made her miss out on the very fun banquet, but had to dust herself off and aid Alphinaud and Wol to find the missing scions. During her time in Ishgard, she worked closely with lord Aymeric and Lucia, by the end of the Dragonsong war, Auregie and Lucia became a couple. She's an all-rounder but mains as a Black mage, her studies heavily involved voidsents (she took part in the Void Ark storyline). She has a few differencies than canon Auregie but the rest should be the same.

Relationship status: Engaged (to be married post EW)

Hobbies: Playing the violin, spending money anywhere she can, mixing new tea blends.

Mini fact: She lives in Ishgard as of late, but visits her family whenever she can.

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Laetitia wir Galvus (Ascien Au):

TBA~ 🤫 (i worked on her lore for a few years now but she shall be known in due time)

Age: N/A.

Relationship status: N/A.

No. of kids: N/A.

Likes: N/A.

Dislikes: N/A.

Hobbies: N/A.

Mini fact: N/A.

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And that is all for now! sorry for the lengthy post! My Asks are open for any further questions, and if you want to find me anywhere else you can reach out on the links below O(∩_∩)O: ♥ Twitter (not much to see there other than reposting art) ♥ Bluesky (fairly new) ♥ You can chat with me on Discord (DM for the handle)

[jefarawol]

Here is heart of settlement, name of Idyllshire!

What've we got here? Guests?

Greetings to you. I am Alphinaud Leveilleur, and may I introduce my companions, Jefara and Y'shtola. We have journeyed far in search of a friend, and seek to cross the river.

But findin' the main bridge collapsed, you went lookin' for a detour, and ended up stumblin' into Slowfix and his crew. Is that right?

That is the short of it, aye. This place, Idyllshire─I came expecting a ghost town; suffice it to say I am surprised to find it so alive.

Well, with all them precious artifacts lyin' about, 'twas only a matter of time afore treasure hunters like me moved in. But we weren't the first to arrive, neither. By then, Slowfix and his gobbie friends were already settled.

At first, gobbies and hunters disliked each other. But understanding came, then friendship. Now gobbies and hunters have joined hands to build great new nation!

So that is what happened after we Sharlayans departed...

Oh, so you're locals...? Um, no hard feelin's, I hope? All these nice buildings, but no one to live in 'em─felt like a waste, you know? We've been tryin' to put the place to rights, and things've been goin' well for the most part, but it ain't all smooth sailin'. Not to sound ungrateful, but the traps your people left lyin' about are a bloody nuisance. And there's the Illuminati harryin' us day and night...

Pshkohhh, Slowfix has bright idea! Uplanders desire mutual understanding, yes? Best way to understanding is helping one another! 

As long as you dont make me look for cheese like Brayflox did, I am at your disposal.

Uplanders friends of Brayflox? Slowfix and Brayflox are joined by unseverable gobbiebond. Slowfix makes uplanders honored citizens of Idyllshire, free to cross river at will. Though uplanders must leave for now, Slowfix hopes that uplanders will pay many visits and help build great new nation!

You are most kind, my friend. You may be certain that we will return.

I must confess, at first it upset me to learn that my home had been occupied by others. But I see now that it is in good hands. Under your care, I look forward to seeing Sharlayan thrive once more, to become a home to people of all races and creeds.

Slowfix has already ordered the gobwatch to let uplanders through. Safe travels!

[dawnslight-aegis]

intro/about post...thing

I keep meaning to make one of these so

welcome to @dawnslight-aegis, my ffxiv blog that is mostly dedicated to my dearest and most beloved lizard WoL, Kaede

here is a picture of her, please imagine me pulling it out of my wallet like a proud parent

anyway

I have a page for my most used tags here, Kaede's co-WoL and partner in crime can be found at @foamofthe-sea, and my fanfiction about both of them and also a couple of elf boys is primarily on AO3.

Kaede biography type things under the cut!

Name: Kaede Kazarishi (Kaede: summer maple, Kazarishi: jeweler)

Epithet: the True

Titles: Flame Captain, Warrior of Light, Champion of Eorzea, Savior of Ishgard, Traveler, and most recently, Viscountess of House Borel

Age: 25 at ARR start, 29 at EW end

Heritage/Affliation: Hannish on her father's side, Doman on her mother's. Born in the Mor Dhonan wilds, raised in New Sharlayan (birth-10) and La Noscea (11-21). Captain in the Immortal Flames, part-time resident of Ishgard.

Combat specializations: Holy Knight (PLD variant), Dark Knight, Red Mage, Light Mage (WHM variant)

Non-combat specializations: Master Goldsmith, Journeywoman Blacksmith/Armorer/Miner

Patron Deity: Halone (and Hydaelyn)

Elemental affinity: Ice/Light (primary), Fire (secondary), Wind (tertiary)

Ancient: Eos Erigeneia, she who held the seat of Azem

Soul color: Blue/pink/gold (sunrise/dawn)

Notable relationships: Marzanna Kimbatuul (best friend and fellow Warrior of Light), Aymeric de Borel (husband), Estinien Varlineau (close ally/mildly toxic bestie), Alphinaud and Alisaie Leveilleur (all-but-officially adopted siblings), Yuriko Kazarishi (mother), Roric Blackthorne (stepfather), Edmont de Fortemps (adopted father), Haurchefant Greystone (ally and former lover, deceased), Emet-Selch (complicated).

Assorted Symbolism because I think about this stuff too much

Zodiac: Libra Sun, Leo Moon, Aquarius Rising

Meyers-Briggs: INTJ (introverted/intuitive/thinking/judging)

Tree: Maple (strength, endurance, protection -- also it's in her name)

Gemstone: Labradorite (protection, strength, courage -- also it's blue)

Flower: White Daffodil (renewal, rebirth, chivalry)

Tarot: Judgement (absolution, rebirth, motivation)

have a couple of inspo memes too while I'm at it

[autumnslance]

The Road to Tertium

Jullus pyr Norbanus calls the twins children, but is obviously quite young himself; Cirina calls him a "boy" and Maxima notes his youth while also having the title "pyr".

After the disaster at Victor's Spoils, the twins leap at the chance to try again, taking what they learned in dealing with the Garleans there. This worries Y'shtola, but not enough to put her foot down and stop them, nor does Lucia think it a bad idea.

One of my favorite bits here is Lucia's specific language, emphasizing "observe" and "Thancred."

Lucia: You will be received as invited guests, and so I urge you to observe proper social etiquette and conduct yourselves accordingly. Lucia: Your safe return takes precedence above all else. Remember this. Lucia: Thancred in particular will be worried sick if you're gone too long. May the Fury watch over and keep you. Lucia: As I said before, Thancred can be quite the worrier, but rest assured he only has your best interests at heart…

Earlier, when discussing the scouting missions upon arrival:

Thancred: How about you, G'raha? I've a feeling we'll find a use or two for that vanishing spell of yours. G'raha Tia: 'Twould be my honor to be of service, though I doubt that you of all people need rely on my tricks.

After Shadowbringers and that damn trolley duty, we know how effective Thancred can be at hiding when he must, though the toll that can take. His stealth skills also got a decent reminder in the Metal Gear duty on arrival in Garlemald. But the invisibility spell will be handy in a short while here, as the WoL and the twins head to Tertium.

Knowing your friends are watching out for you, WoL and the twins head out on an escort quest, Jullus feeling like he ought to recognize the WoL's name but not quite managing.

Jullus is on the lookout for tails, and makes threats concerning it. But there's no way he will see Thancred--even without G'raha's invisibility spell--if the rogue doesn't want Jullus to see him.

Jullus also doesn't want to hear of a so-called cure for the tempered; his experience with the dangerous afflicted tells him otherwise, nor can he trust the Eorzeans yet. And later of course, we find out his own more personal trauma regarding the tempered, as the party faces more twisted tempered the closer they get to the city and Tertium.

Quintus is one of those stubborn old men whose mind is made up. He believes so thoroughly in Garlean superiority there's no getting through, as obviously frustrated as it makes the twins, who have no further rejoinders.

Aspects of Quintus's speech is not so different from Varis at the Ghimlyt parley; the Garleans were taught that differences and compromise made for poor peace; only might makes right, and anyone who did not agree with Garlemald's rule and order were the warmongers who would see the empire burn. He will not, cannot, believe that altruisim exists or that peace is possible without aggression.

Which is rubbish and foolish, and is why the people he ought to be protecting instead are freezing and starving, leads to him nearly ordering his remaining troops to their deaths, and his own eventual suicide.

The twins are fitted with shock collars, though Quintus has recognized the WoL, and in a fit of story excusing gameplay, doesn't bother having a collar put on WoL, so players might come and go as needed. It's another case of "if this was a single-player game, the situation would be different."

Though honestly after all they've been through, I doubt the twins would react much to the shock collars either. Alphinaud's dealt with a dragon's eye, Alisaie uses pain to get angrier, and they both stood against Emet-Selch in battle. A little magitek shock isn't going to stop the Leveilleurs!

[paintedscales]

FFXIV Write 2023 :: Day 22

Prompt :: Fulsome Characters :: Nomin tal Kheeriin, Alphinaud Leveilleur, Dulia-Chai, Chai-Nuzz Word Count :: 2,330

FFXIV Write 2023 Master List

A loose towel was draped around Nomin’s shoulders as she sat outside the showering rooms that Eulmore had that were mandatory for those coming in from the outside. She had scrunched her nose at the sight that surrounded her ever since stepping foot through the threshold into the impressive structure that made up the city. Green marble, golden accents, ruby red walls tinged with the floral scent of roses... It would have been wondrous were it not for the horrid living conditions of Gatetown and the added desperation of Kai-Shirr wanting to get in so that he could live among his friends.

Hells…even hearing how Tristol had lost the will to paint had been heartbreaking to Nomin. She would not have been able to imagine not being able to love painting -- recreating settings and sceneries to reflect upon and remember… She wondered if Alphinaud had felt the same, for the two of them had often indulged in art, different as their subjects may have been. And so, with the idea that they were both painters -- Alphinaud the expert in painting people, and Nomin his protégé who specialized in landscapes, they had their cover story for entering into the otherwise secretive city.

Nomin leaned her head back, the back of it hitting the wall behind her. She had been waiting for Alphinaud at this rate, his reluctance to take the opportunity when they first got there delayed them in meeting with their new charge.

Leaning down somewhat, Nomin took a small sniff of her clothes. They did reek of sweat and earthy tones…though she supposed that was what the perfume was for. If she was supposed to look and smell her best, Nomin thought to herself that she and Alphinaud both could have been provided some appropriately-sized clothes to wear. Or there could have been something nearby to wash their clothes without bringing them into the showers with them.

Scoffing to herself, Nomin lazily spritzed the perfume upon herself. The scent of roses only became stronger, not that she minded. It was, perhaps, the only decent thing so far that she found herself amicable toward.

When Alphinaud finally left the showers with his clothes back upon his person, a towel upon his own head, and a liberal spritz of the provided perfume, Nomin got back up on her feet and looked down at him. She noted the well-used brush within his grasp, thinking back on what Tristol had said about ‘sending them back to that awful place.’ For a place so lavish and desired to leave such an impression…it had left a rather bitter taste at the back of Nomin’s throat.

“Well, that was bracing! I believe the lingering smells of the road have been successfully expunged.” Alphinaud said, looking up at Nomin. He then adjusted the tome at his hip; “shall we go and present ourselves to our new patrons, then?”

A sigh fell from Nomin’s lips, reluctance in answering Alphinaud right away.

“... Something still troubles you,” Alphinaud observed. “What’s on your mind?”

“This place…” Nomin started, shaking her head somewhat. “Sorry, I don’t mean to halt our progress now that we’re standing here. Just…this place feels a bit too good to be true, does it not? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this short of the Vault back in Eorzea. I don’t even think that could hold a candle to how…opulent this all feels.”

Nomin gestured vaguely around them at all the things that she had come to notice.

“Hm…” Alphinaud brought a finger to his chin, his expression falling to pensiveness. “Quite…’tis all steeped with this fulsome luxury that, from what we already know, leads to living in a contented state of indolence.”

Nomin tilted her head somewhat, hearing something she had never properly heard before. She then asked, knowing that Alphinaud would likely be more than happy to inform her: “‘fulsome’? Forgive my ignorance…I’ve never learned this word in the common tongue alongside the language of my people…”

“Ah, pray forgive me. What I mean is that this is all in such excess -- and perhaps sickeningly so. Hells, it could encompass all the meanings of the word that are logged away in the dictionaries of Sharlayan’s libraries…” Alphinaud sighed in a frustrated manner. “Alas, it does us no good to stay here in stagnation. We should find someone to direct us to the Chais that we might learn aught more of this place.”

“The faster the better…” Nomin replied, nodding in agreement. “Let us be about it, then.”

Removing themselves from the entry to the showers, Nomin and Alphinaud found a Eulmoran guard that kindly provided them a basic layout to the city. With a small word of thanks, the two had climbed a number of stairs -- a ‘fulsome amount’ as Nomin so mentioned to Alphinaud just to ensure that she had the meaning of it correct. And what a fulsome amount it was, as it proved to have been a test of endurance for the both of them; Nomin less so, but she could still feel her heart’s beat having picked up as kept her breath practiced.

Waiting a moment for Alphinaud to compose himself, the two had made their way around the Canopy, asking around if anyone knew where the Chais were. The two had been pointed in the direction of a large eatery filled with tables and decor that had been as equally gaudy with its golden accents. It had been made even more of an eye sore with the bright light that filtered in through the windows, only serving to make the glint of them worse.

The table that had their quarry sitting at it, Nomin noticed, had been full of what looked to have been fresh fruits. A plump looking miqo’te -- mystel -- had been sitting there with her husband -- a smaller man with spectacles that sat on the bridge of his nose. They had taken note of their guests, the woman gazing over them curiously.

These must have been the Chais -- Chai-Nuzz and Dulia-Chai.

“Ooh? Who’s this then?” Dulia’s voice carried, her tone light and somewhat shrill.

Bowing to them in respect, Alphinaud’s tone had changed as he addressed them: “Lord and Lady Chai, pray forgive our intrusion. I am given to understand you were in search…of an artist?”

Nomin’s lips twitched before she simply pursed them to force herself not to smile in amusement at how Alphinaud had carried himself. A small hint of his younger self had come out in that moment, not that Nomin would ever tell him.

“Ahh, you must be the new, uh…” Chai-Nuzz spoke, trailing off.

“Oh, goodness me! What an adorable boy!” Dulia exclaimed with a giggle, now having come to process Alphinaud and Nomin’s arrival. “That silken hair, those pearly cheeks…oh, and you even smell wonderful -- like a bed of flowers!”

Dulia had leaned in, smelling the air happily before looking at her husband and cheerfully stating: “I approve of this one, dearest! I am positive he will paint us the most delightful pictures.”

Nomin had been uncertain if Dulia had been saying that simply because Alphinaud had tickled her clear maternal sense, or if because she was absolutely certain that, because they stood before her table, he must have been a devoted artist. Either way, it looked like there was at least one obstacle down…

“I, um, er, y-yes… Ahem. Well, as long as he paints better than that talentless wretch we sent packing last week…” Chai-Nuzz spoke, clearly wanting to at least be on his wife’s good side more than anything.

Momentary amusement quickly gave way to a scowl of disdain. For both Nomin and Alphinaud, it seemed.

And so there was the second obstacle…

“Wonderful, wonderful! Welcome to Eulmore…um, er…” Dulia started, looking at both of them expectantly.

“Alphinaud, if it please you, my lady. And this…is my assistant.” Alphinaud introduced.

“A pleasure. My name is Nomin.” With her words, Nomin offered a bow.

“Your…assistant?” Chai-Nuzz looked incredulously between them, failing to hide that same incredulousness from his tone. “I’ve heard of folk bringing in family members, but this seems a bit irregular. Aren’t you a little young to have a protégé?”

“We are family in all but name, my lord. Though we share no blood, we have stood by each other through life’s many challenges, resolved to prevail together -- or not at all,” Alphinaud said in earnest response. “Of all people, ‘tis she who best understands my work. With her unique insight guiding my hand, the art I create is sure to satisfy your expectations.”

Nomin glanced at Alphinaud. The sincerity within his tone as well as the way he worded his response was heartwarming to her. She would have smiled in warm fashion had she not wished to play at stoicism if only to prevent herself from ruining their overall facade in being there. In fact, she had even reached for her bag, there had been at least two or three paintings done upon hide that she had safely stowed away.

“So what do you learn from him, Nomin?” the Chai-Nuzz asked. He pointed that self-same look of incredulity in Nomin’s direction.

Producing from her bag one of her rolled hides, Nomin spread it open to reveal a painting of a nightly vista found on the Steppe if one were to travel the Tail Mountains. The colors upon the hide were a culmination of browns, purples, pinks, blues with spatterings of white for stars. Clearing her throat as she showed off her own work, Nomin went on, “though Master Alphinaud and I differ in our technique and subject matter, I learn much from him in the matter of emotion. How these vistas I paint make me feel, and how I would wish to provide that for those would would gaze upon my work.”

“Oh! Dearest, look!” Dulia exclaimed, clapping her hands together with joy. “Why, the sky in this painting is so vast and beautiful! Just like in the books I read when I was just a little girl! Young Alphinaud must be talented if this is the work of his protégé!”

Relief wound itself around Nomin’s heart. Of course, her skill in painting landscapes would have no bearing on Alphinaud’s skill in painting people. She would have to hope they were ignorant in the lifestyles of artists to overlook that much.

“Would you like to keep it?” That question alone had been a knife to her own stomach as Nomin uttered the words. However, she spoke them as a means of good faith to keep both she and Alphinaud as on a good side of the Chais as possible. Even if she hated parting with the paintings she made as a means to record her memories of places.

“You would let me keep it?” Dulia gasped.

“A present, and a token of my appreciation to see us well here in Eulmore.”

“I would love it! Ooh, I know just the place to hang it, too!” Dulia looked between both Nomin and Alphinaud, a crinkle at the corners of her eyes as she smiled widely. “Such a gift…and manners, besides! To have two wonderful painters in our midst! I am so excited to see what young Alphinaud has in store for us!”

Alphinaud, however, nodded with a pleasant look upon his face. “I will certainly do what I can. I am ever so lucky to have been blessed with such an assistant who can provide me with such artistic insight as you can see for your very self. As I said, she is the one who best understands my work. Once the picture for you two is begun, of course, I shall have no need of her constant encouragement. And so I wondered, rather than her being in your way, might it then be permissible for my assistant to explore the city she has so longed to see? Out of gratitude for her priceless contribution to my art, I thought it only fair that I make this humble request on her behalf.”

Nomin slowly looked in Alphinaud’s direction. Would they have even bought tha--

“Oooh, did you ever hear of such devotion! Of course your assistant must have her wish! She shall be free to roam to her heart’s content!” Dulia cooed before she looked in Chai-Nuzz’s direction. Her tone then became expectant as she addressed him, “...Isn’t that right, darling?”

“Uh…” Chai-Nuzz was taken out of his thoughts, his mouth falling slightly agape at the prospect. “Oh, yes. Yes, of course, dearest. Q-Quite right.”

Once the Chais had been more enraptured with speaking amongst themselves, Alphinaud met Nomin’s gaze. His expression became determined before he walked forward and cleared his throat. He addressed Nomin, putting that pleasant smile on once more: “now you’ve the opportunity to experience Eulmore, I suggest you make the most of it. Explore the city, top to bottom.”

Alphinaud needed to say no more to Nomin as she nodded. After all, their experiences in Ishgard and Kugane both, had left them with some knowledge on how to carry themselves. If Tataru were here, she would have happily gone to the places that would have provided the most amount of gossip. And it seemed that Alphinaud was on the same page.

“Try wandering around the market stalls, mayhap…? Such colorful places are usually filled with colorful characters, and I know how much you enjoy a myriad of colors,” Alphinaud said. “I would appreciate, of course, if you could share any discoveries with me in turn. We should both learn as much as possible about our, ahem, ‘new place of residence.’”

“I’ll leave you to it, then…” Nomin said, offering another polite bow to both Dulia and Chai-Nuzz. “Thank you again for allowing me this rare opportunity. I shall make the most of it.”

Turning heel, Nomin strode off. She certainly intended to make the most of every second she and Alphinaud had within the impressive walls of the fulsome image that was Eulmore.

[pangolinheart]

FFXIVWrite 2023 DAY 17 - THE GLEANER AND THE FROG (EXTRA CREDIT)

Erenville encounters a frog in Labyrinthos that looks suspiciously familiar.

(For today's free day I decided to write the beginning of a totally ludicrous AU where the Warrior of Light gets stuck as a frog for an extended period. This somehow came out of me noting that if one were turned into a frog by Y'shtola, Erenville seems like he would be the most qualified character to help you. He might not know how to fix it, but at least he would recognize that you're not a frog and could possibly tell a trusted adult who could help. Failing that, he's probably not a bad choice of person to care for you for the rest of your froggy days. I may continue to write a few scenes for this little AU with the sorts of mischief Rhiki might get up to as a frog, but we shall see!)

Rating: General Genre: Fluff, nonsense Characters: Erenville, Y'shtola Rhul, Alphinaud Leveilleur, Alisaie Leveilleur. Word Count: 1,583 Content Warnings: None.

There was a series of rustling sounds in the tall grass. Erenville’s ears perked up. Something was running. He tilted his head. Two somethings. Running towards him? He looked up from the requisition form he had been examining, and just as he did a frog exploded from the reeds, propelling itself forward as fast as its legs would carry it. Three seconds later, a whittret came coursing after it, only paces behind. It must have been hungry.

The frog darted past him, but then, oddly, seemed to notice him and pivoted, running back in his direction. Hm? Why did that frog seem… familiar? His suspicion that something was amiss was confirmed when it next did something no true frog would have under such circumstances. With its exceptional leap it launched itself at his leg, connecting with the side of his knee. Its little fingers scrabbled against his pant leg to pull itself further from the whittret’s jaws. The whittret hesitated only a moment before deciding to take its chances. It hunkered back, preparing to lunge and snatch the creature, when Erenville reached down and scooped up the frog with both hands, lifting it far out of the whittret’s reach. The weasel-like beastkin aborted its charge and instead hissed, scampering backwards and then circling, ready to dash forward and snag the frog should Erenville release it, or dive out the way of his hands should he have a mind to try capturing it, as well.

Erenville, looked at the frog in his gentle grasp, then down at the whittret. “I am sorry, my friend. It seems you will have to look elsewhere for your dinner. It is for the best. This is clearly not a very good frog. It would only give you indigestion.”

The whittret, uncomprehending and unheeding, continued to circle, until several sets of much heavier footsteps startled It, and it bolted back into the tall grass.

“Rhiki!” He heard a familiar, if breathless, voice call, and when he turned his head he was not surprised to see one of the white-haired twins who had been accompanying his new “friend” earlier sprinting towards him, followed by her brother and the miqo’te sorceress.

“Did you lose something?” He asked, presenting the frog for her to see. It croaked apologetically in his hands.

The girl in the red jacket finally reached him, bending down to brace her hands on her knees as she painted for breath. “Yes!” She managed, emphatically. “Thank you! Erenville, was it?”

“That is correct.” He nodded. He glanced down at the amphibian hanging limply between his hands, similarly exhausted. “Your friend was close to becoming a meal for a common whittret.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, still catching her breath. She looked up at the frog and scowled. “Rhiki! You mustn’t run off like that! You’re going to get hurt! Or eaten!”

“And it would serve her right if she did,” By now, the sorceress had joined them. Having not pursued as frantically, her voice was still calm and even. She affixed the frog with a disapproving stare. “You may find our debates on the nuances of aetherology dull, but if you insist on wandering off to have your own… froggy adventures, it is you who will bear the consequences. You are fortunate that Erenville was here to come to your rescue this time.”

The frog emitted a dejected ribbit.

Erenville looked up to the woman, then back down at the frog. “I did not realize that such transmogrifications occurred so frequently in your line of work.”

“They don’t!” The other elezen, the boy in blue, piped up. Though he had fallen behind his sister he still sounded winded. “We don’t know what happened! Y’shtola transformed us to… well, I’m sure you remember. You were there, after all. After that, the spell wore off and everything was fine. Until, all of a sudden, Rhiki just changed back!”

The sorceress – Y’shtola, he presumed – crossed her arms and drummed her fingers against her sleeve in thought. “Even had I re-cast the spell when the second transformation occurred, its effects should have dissipated by now. No, something has gone awry, though I know not what.”

“I see,” Erenville said. Aetherology had never been his field of study, but he could see what the problem was, and he seemed to know as well as they did what its cause might have been. “Do you currently possess the means to reverse the spell’s affects?”

Y’shtola hummed thoughtfully. “At present, no. I shall have to contact Master Matoya. Mayhaps she will be willing to share some insight. I doubt any scholars currently residing in Sharlayan will be as knowledgeable, but there may be tomes within the Studium’s library that could yield answers. Z’rhiki’s aether has undergone periods of instability in the past, so it is highly possible that a similar phenomenon is at play here. In the worst-case scenario, we may have to identify a solution through trial-and-error, though I am loathe to attempt anything that might cause further fluctuations in her aether.”

“A-anyway, thank you again for saving Rhiki,” the girl in red said, having composed herself somewhat. “We’re sorry for troubling you again. We can take her back now. We’ll try to keep a closer eye on her until we can find a way to fix this mess.”

Once again, Erenville gazed down at the creature. Frogs possessed no complex emotions, so it was difficult to tell what the amphibious imposter might be thinking. He frowned, deliberating for a moment, before responding:

“No. Absolutely not.”

“I- What?! Surely you must be joking! What do you mean 'Absolutely not'?!” The boy stammered, eyes wide and concerned.

Erenville shook his head calmly. “I do not think that course of action is wise.”

“And why is that?” Y’shtola asked. Her voice remained mild, though a chill had crept into it. She would hear him out, at least. If she did not care for what he had to say....

He inhaled. “Your friend may not know how to behave like one, but in this form they share all of the limitations and requirements of a true frog. Frogs are amphibious; they require access to water. Their skin must remain moist, or it may break, and they can become very ill. This subspecies is native to a sub-tropical climate, which means it will suffer if the temperature drops too low for too long. These are just a few of the many considerations one must make when caring for such a creature. Do you know what diet is appropriate for this type of frog? Do you know the best way to handle it so as not to injure it? Have you ever cared for an amphibian before? Have you ever cared for any animal before?” He scanned the varying levels of discomfort on their faces. “No, I will care for the fr- our friend. You should focus your efforts on finding a way to reverse the spell’s effects.”

“You needn’t go to such trouble,” Y’shtola attempted to assure him. “We wouldn’t want to disrupt your work any further. I am certain we could make arrangements-“

He shook his head. “It is no trouble. I will remain in Sharlayan for a while longer, attending to matters here. It will be of little consequence for me to care for them for a short while. Your friend has informed me that I am her friend, so you can consider this a favor to a friend. It would put my own mind at ease, and free yours so that you may devote all of your attention to finding a solution.”

“I… suppose that does sound rather practical,” the boy said thoughtfully. “You did say you were an expert in frogs, did?”

“Yes,” Erenville nodded solemnly. “Frogs, and many other plants and animals.”

The girl in red looked between her brother and Y’shtola. “Well, we should at least see what Rhiki thinks, shouldn’t we?” She turned back to him and bent down slightly so her eyes were level with those of the frog in his hands. “Rhiki, would you be alright if we left you with Erenville for a while? Ribbit once for yes, twice for no.”

“Ribbit.”

The girl straightened up. “Well, there you have it.”

“It’s decided, then.” Y’shtola said, her voice carrying a sense of finality. “Erenville will care for Z’rhiki for a short time, and we will devote ourselves to counteracting the spell’s effects. Erenville, thank you once again for your assistance.”

He shook his head again, slowly. “Once again, it is no trouble. I will supply you with the address of where I am staying while in Sharlayan. I assure you, your friend will be well looked-after. You may come to claim them when you have found a way to reverse the transformation.” He allowed himself a small smile. “Or, when you have become responsible amphibian owners.”

They took several minutes to finalize the details of the arrangement before the Students of Baldesion, or so they called themselves, readied to take their leave.

“Rhiki, behave yourself. And be nice to Erenville,” Alisaie, whose name he had just learned, instructed the frog, Rhiki, ere they departed. She chirped in response, which seemed to be the best sign of agreement any of them could hope for. With that, the three bid farewell, leaving Erenville standing in the middle of Labyrinthos with Rhiki in his hands.

“Well then,” he said, looking down at her. “I suppose I should find you a suitable tank.”

“Ribbit.”

[coldshrugs]

what i see in you, i hope you find in me

characters: io laithe (wol), alisaie leveilleur, estinien varlineau wordcount: 1.6k note: io feels out of sorts in garlemald. her friends seek to comfort her. the first part of this is directly before "in from the cold" and the second part is the following day. [read on AO3]

There is a fragile warmth in Camp Broken Glass.

The Ilsabard Contingent troops, faces familiar and foreign to Io, begin the difficult work of welcoming the Ist’s soldiers into their camp. There are wounds to mend, fires to stoke, and enormous pots of soup to simmer and disperse. Not all of her people are cheery about it, but there is a sense of purpose in each of them. This is why they’ve come all this way, faced the perils of the north, faced their bloody history.

Healing is rarely a painless act.

Io stays on the fringes. At best, she is a divisive figure in this land–at worst, she is the manifestation of Garlean terror. It’s better if she lets the soldiers process their new circumstances without meddling and, truthfully, she could do with a moment of peace.

She heads toward a building adjacent to the cookfires to escape the frigid wind. This is as good a place to hide as any. She tugs her fleece-lined coat around her more tightly and leans against the near-frozen wood.

Miles away, the Tower of Babil looms over the city, angry, crimson, and waiting for her. The next leg of her journey, perhaps the final one, will take her there.

To him.

For nearly three years, Zenos has consumed Io’s thoughts. He has stoked her rage, sometimes indirectly, most of the time for his deranged satisfaction. He reaches for the darkness in her that no one else wants to touch, let alone acknowledge, and he sets it aflame. She hates him for it, yet she is grateful to him. One feeling lays on the other, like oil on water, and she cannot find a way to blend them.

At least not one that makes her sound sane.

Footsteps approach and the crunch of snow shakes Io from her thoughts.

“There you are.” Alisaie stops at her side. She glares at the Tower for a long moment, then turns to Io. “Are you alright? Some of the Contingent have asked about you.”

Io nods and pulls her attention away from the repulsive skyline. “I’m fine, Alisaie. Trying to stay out of the way for the evening.”

Alisaie frowns. “Would you care for company? Alphinaud and I have tended the worst of the injured, and have been all but forced to rest. He’s run off to find that witless oaf he admires so much.”

“He’s not so bad,” Io laughs, and gestures for her friend to settle in against the battered building. “In a few short months, you two will be thick as thieves.”

“You are not often wrong, but I fear this will be the exception.”

Io glances across the camp. It takes a moment to spot them, but Alphinaud, Alberic, and Estinien sit on a couple of low benches, sipping hot soup from hammered metal cups. All three appear to be in good spirits, smiling and laughing as Alphinaud recounts some story or other.

Something strange and sharp twists in her chest at the sight of them. The knowledge she isn't welcome to join them, perhaps.

Her second reason to hide.

“He’s angry with me. I suppose that is his right. I shouldn’t have let them take you two.” Io grits her teeth, fighting against the knot of guilt that has resided in her stomach since the morning.

Estinien is her friend, perhaps the closest she has here besides Alisaie. She understands him, so she can hardly blame him for being upset with her. They are family to him, Alphinaud, and Alisaie by extension. No less than they are to her. He has given Io little more than one-word responses since the twins were found. She may pretend otherwise, but his cold shoulder wounds her.

“Oh, to hells with Estinien.” Alisaie waves a gloved hand dismissively in his direction. “He’ll get over it. Would he have you fire upon civilians while negotiating peace? He may love my brother like a… well, brother, but he must admit there was no ideal series of events to be had. We all did our best, and we all made it through.”

Her hand lands on Io’s arm. Her fingers must feel like ice inside her glove, but Alisaie squeezes anyway, firm and reassuring.

“Thank you, Ali,” she whispers, and her gratitude hangs as a visible breath between them. They stay tucked between the buildings until Y’shtola calls them to dinner.

○––––––––––––––––––––––––––––○

Articulating what it is like to be outside oneself is something Io cannot bring herself to do. How could she describe watching her loved ones nearly cut down by her own hand, while she occupies the body of another? While an intruder operates hers. To be the stringless puppet and the feeble voyeur all at once

She has never been more afraid.

And Zenos… Though something in her heart still quakes like a plucked string at the thought of him, a modicum of sympathy she can't seem to erase, she finally accepts what she has known for so long: there is nothing for her there. Her most monstrous facets are reflected in him, a dark mirror she's been staring into for too long, but she could never do that to someone. Never.

With nothing more she can say to the others, she retreats to her closet-sized room in one of the less-dilapidated buildings. Io shrugs out of her coat, sighing with exhaustion. The icy air bites at her skin, even through her shirt, and she moves toward the ceruleum heater struggling to keep the temperature up in the corner. There is no time to rest. The assault on the Tower is happening in mere hours, and she needs to be armored, armed, and briefed.

Someone knocks, two heavy raps. Io leaves the tepid warmth to open the door.

Estinien?

He's the last person she expected right now.

His jaw is locked, and his hard stare passes over her in quick inspection, missing nothing. Fury lingers in his gray eyes, but unlike yesterday, it’s not her he wants to burn. Is he no longer upset with her?

Unable to meet his gaze, Io looks away. “Is something wrong?”

“I came to ask how you’re doing,” he says, “after yesterday.”

Io opens the door wider, inviting him into the space. He glances at the wooden stool in the corner, then back at her, and crosses the threshold with a reluctant step.

She sits on the cot, too far from the meager rays of heat. The air is heavy between them. Something is on his mind, and Estinien is never one to hold back for long.

“Are you hurt?” He asks after settling on the creaky stool. It’s too small for him, and she bites back her amusement. This is not the time to fall back into their comfortable patterns, no matter how much she longs for them. “They tell me you aren’t, but I would hear it from you.”

“I’m uninjured.”

“And your mind?” Estinien presses, facing her head-on. He searches her face, grey eyes refusing to shy away from whatever the answer may be. She has seen him like this before, harboring an indignant, singular focus, though that was years ago. Yesterday’s irritation was a shadow of this.

“Fine.” She tucks a knee under her chin. It is almost the full truth.

“Io. You're shaking.”

“Perhaps you should blame the climate.”

He grimaces, teeth grinding in frustration. “I have seen you cold before. Do not pretend we're strangers.”

Io runs a hand through her hair. Trying to fool him is as futile as attempting to forget the last twenty-four hours. But he is here, talking to her, and she doesn't want him to go just yet. “And what of your mind, Estinien? You don’t seem yourself.”

His next breath stutters out of him, followed by hesitant words. “Before I found them,” he starts, and she knows he means the twins, “I could only see the worst outcome behind that door. How late would I be, this time? What could I have done to save them? …I prepared my grief. Then the door opened, and they were fine. Just whinging about the cold. It was easy to blame you for what could’ve happened. Easier than going back to the first time I lost family.”

He pauses and looks at her. Looks into her. And there’s the man she knows like the back of her hand. The friend she knows so well, they communicate across silence and stillness. She offers him a half-smile.

“I scoffed when you disappeared, still angry at the false burden I thought you cast upon me. Had I known what happened to you…” The words trail into silence as Estinien forces his eyes away from her to the window and the malevolent tower beyond. “I realized you, too, are… I will lose no more family, Io.”

Her sharp inhale stings her lungs. She watches him as he gazes out the window, projecting his anger toward Babil, Zenos, Fandaniel. Everywhere but her direction.

“Estinien,” she calls across the small room, embarrassed by the soft crack of her voice, and he turns back to her. “We’re alright, all of us. I would never let the twins come to harm. Garlemald has taken much from me, so much that offering aid to this land is agonizing, but it will not take them. I hope you trust me.”

He rises and gives her a firm nod, lingering by the window as if he’s not finished here. He shakes his head, clears his throat.

“Don’t let it take you either.”

That doesn’t feel like the end of it, but he leaves before she can say more.

[onepunchcatboi]

The Warrior of Light

ARR caps ✦ HW caps ✦ SB caps ✦ ShB caps ✦ EW caps ✦ DT caps

Slowly but surely working on a little website for this boi that I will later link on here, but I thought it'd be good to do a quick landing page-post for him with some fast facts lol

Name: Zorri'to "Kima" Vossu Age: 33 (as of Endwalker) Nameday: July 19 Gender: Non-binary Orientation: Demisexual Height: 5'1" Weight: 120 lbs Alignment: Neutral Good Ancient Name: Nike

Melee: Monk, Ninja, Dragoon Ranged: Dancer Caster: Red Mage Tank: Gunbreaker Healer: Astrologian

Theme Song: Eye of the Storm- ARR-SB Eye of the Storm Reborn- ShB-EW

Relationships Thancred Waters: Brother why art thou like this (affectionate) Urianger Augurelt: Beautiful nerd friend Lyse Hext: Same-brain sister Papalymo Totolymo: The Professor Minlifia Warde: Cinnamon roll too good for this world (cry) Tataru Taru: Den mother of 1000 skills Alphinaud Leveilleur: My incredible son Alisaie Leveilleur: My unbeatable daughter Krile Baldastion: Lovely aunt Estinian Wyrmblood: Adventure buddy G'Raha Tia: Idiot little bother (affectionate)

Romantic Relationship: Y'Shtola Rhul: The Queen, my muse, my mirror, we are opposites, we are the same, I would travel the ends of the world with you, the world may be burning but we will burn brighter to save it

Personality In addition to the living cryptid factor that comes with being the Warrior of Light, Kima is an interesting puzzle when getting to know him. He’s quiet and contemplative but will converse easily enough if you find the right subject. His speech is forward and sometimes insightful, he also cusses like it's a first language. He's never owned more than three books, he can tell you the entire history of the Gyr Abania. He will capture bugs to return outside, he will tear a mans throat out.

While a bit rough around the edges, at his heart he is a kind and sincere person, given to honesty and altruism. He is smart and skilled in trades, but not academically educated. Most of his understanding of aether and the like is through the study of martial arts, so he might not have the right words, but he makes the right connections. He has a fascination with new things and history and loves to learn and explore. He also adores animals and nature, and somewhat frequently runs off on his own to meditate somewhere nice.

He walks with a quiet confidence that comes from both victories and defeats and does not make proud boasts but rather reserved threats, making promises based on past accomplishments. Above all he believes in people and their capacity for good and will try to reach his foe for a peaceful solution if he thinks it possible.

Short History He began life as the second son of a Keeper tribe in the Fringes of Gyr Abania, living on the outskirts of a small village doing their best to keep out of the sight of the Garleans. Like most he knew not his father and for a time his older brother was the only other male of the tribe. Even when not out hunting he was often out exploring, interested particularly in the ruins of the Monk temples left behind after the Mad King’s reign and left to further gather dust after Garlean occupation.

As all Keeper men do, when he came of age he gave to wandering. Eventually he found his way to Ul'dah, were he sought out the Pugilists Guild and came under Hamond’s tutelage. His involvement in Ul’dahs affairs put him in contact with Thancred, and soon after his duties as envoy to General Raubhan, he joined the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. Later he returned to to serve the General as well, becoming an Immortal Flame to further the Scions goals. Upon his defeat of the primal Ifrit, he began to be known as the Warrior of Light, the Savior of Eorzea, and many more.

Character Creation Notes

While he began as a sort of self insert/what if Bruce Lee but if cat-boy character, eventually he became his own personality.

Both my girlfriend and I started the game together and somehow flipped the naming conventions of the sun and moon miqote lol So he was originally name Z'orri, and its in a lot of the older screenshots.

For a long time he was renamed to Zorri'to Viryu. But after a while I had realized this meant that his true name was "Viryu", which just never seemed to suit him. Finally after long deliberation he got his final name change lol

[plounce]

okay youre like so real. shakes hands with you. the agenda laid out in your last sentence is making me sooooo crazy right now because im like oh my god WHAT IF... because the thing is. i think fourchenault always had a favorite twin. and it was alphinaud. that's his golden child: obedient, ambitious, intelligent, a political prodigy, a boy, and he's going to be a healer Just Like His Dad! and while ameliance loved both her kids equally and louisoix was always kind to alisaie and doted on her and never saw her as lesser... still would hurt, if your dad clearly favors your brother over you! you, who's loud and brash and uninterested in bullshit forum wheelings and dealings and gets in trouble more often and broke a vase again this week and your handwriting is less neat than your brother's and you often think your homework is pointless so you get lazy with it sometimes and you're a girl like... sorry. this is just the way i am, and the way you are. you love me, but you don't want me as much as the other things you love. whatever. it's fine.

and then there's urianger. who we now know got abandoned by his parents. who was always a weird kid that nobody could understand except his best friend and kind old louisoix leveilleur. he got semi-adopted into two other families, but. not fully. they love him, and he loves them, and it's so great, but he's not REALLY part of the family.

anyway. alisaie and urianger family rejects bonding!

what people misunderstand about the hvw patch urianger plotline is that urianger's greatest sin in that arc is not sending minfilia to the first. he didn't actually do that. what he did is set up a confrontation between the wol and ardbert's party without elidibus' knowledge so all the crystals of light from the wol and from ardbert's party would allow them to talk to hydaelyn and minfilia. that is what he did. then he presented his solution to the first and source's dual problem, and minfilia AGREED and so did hydaelyn and so minfilia chose to go over. minfilia was already lost in the sauce. the wol and the scions knew that, they saw her in the antitower as the vessel of hydaelyn as The Word Of The Mother. she was already in there and it wasn't going to be as easy to get her out like they did y'shtola and thancred - or maybe even possible. what he arranged is a meeting that had the ability to conclude in the way he wanted - which was a way for the first to survive, and for no calamity to happen on the source. and in that, he allowed everyone to see minfilia again and speak with her. so he could ask her if she was willing to do that. he didn't punt her over there! because even when he's taking action, he is still a really passive person lmao. but he gave minfilia the option to save two entire worlds, which she was happy to choose to do.

urianger's ACTUAL greatest sin in that arc is alisaie's poisoning by renda-rae's arrow. i don't know if urianger was with the warriors of darkness for that incident or if he was at the waking sands, and i KNOW he was probably horrified to hear about the incident and intensely regretfull and ashamed he wasn't there to stop it (like he stopped ardbert's party in the cutscene after xelphatol later on) but regardless, i don't think their relationship was ever the same after that. which makes me miserable, because right before this is the bahamut coils plot, where alisaie trusts urianger as her scion contact (not alphinaud!) because he's a close family friend, and he obviously respects her so incredibly much (he uses "you" for her!) and is so distressed when he sees her (and alphinaud) all beat up after the final coil. they never act very close after 3.4, aside from urianger presenting her with a custom-made rapier and a prophecy before she sets sail to kugane in stormblood. i think that is in part meant as an apology (and also so alisaie has an easier time casting), but they never really team up again like they did in the coils plot. this probably isn't intentional on the part of the writers, but it's an absence that feels conspicuous to me. when your childhood babysitter almost gets you killed.