#AND GHOA'S HAIR!!!

[maxikha-ffxiv]

Rp Profile: Maxi Kha

This isn't a LFRP per se, this is much more who my character is, and some detailed information about her and her place in the world

Character Info:

Name: Altani "Maxi" Kha (birth name Altani Dazkar)

Nicknames: Maxi, Hatchet, Stormbringer

Gender: Female (she/her)

Race: Au Ra, Xaela

Age: roughly 32 by end of events of EW

Sexuality: Biromantic Asexual

Height: 5'3"

Patron Diety: Oschon

Hair: Black, teal highlights

Eyes: Electric Blue, teal Limbal Rings

Tattoos: Rogue's tattoo on her right arm/shoulder

Noticeable marks: Freckled face, a very large back scar from a direwolf attack while protecting a child

Noticeable items: Bard's hat (when working as an archer). EB ring on a chain around her neck. Cherry Blossom earrings. Hybrid bow made of parts from a zelkova and a wanderer's bow.

Important NPC's:

Narani Dazkar, now Kha: Maxi's mother, wife to Keiten, humble child of the Dazkar tribe. Daughter of Ghoa, Butterfly of the Dazkar. Fled with mother and child after learning of plot to kill Maxi. Now lives in Radz-at-Han with a portion of the Kha tribe, as a merchant selling Xaela goods

Ghoa Dazkar: Maxi's grandmother. A generational talent in archery, she earned the title "Butterfly of the Dazkar" for how gracefully she could wield a bow. Many Xaela came from all over the step to be taught by her, but she didn't take many students, her best one being her own teenage granddaughter. Killed in a bandit attack by experimental poison

Keiten Kha: Maxi's stepfather, husband to Narani. Member of the Kha that rescued the Dazkar ladies. Fell in love with Narani, officially married when Maxi was 6. Maxi calls him dad, only father she recognizes. Leatherworker by trade, crafted the archery bracers Maxi wears when she's in her usual combat attire

Baatu Dazkar: Birth father of Maxi. She never talks about him. He tried to kill her, twice, all because she's his illegitimate firstborn. Former khan of Dazkar, removed from power by Maxi in a trial of combat.

Traits:

Humble start: Maxi, uninterested in the life of a merchant, left for the lands of Eorzea once of age. Having been trained in Dazkar archery, she set off to join the archers guild in Gridania

Martial prowess: Maxi has 0 aether control, but has been athletically gifted from birth. She's able to pick up and handle any martial weapon with minimal training, having spent time with the various martial guilds before settling on the Archer's/Rogue's and Marauder's guilds to focus on

Shroud archer: Main "job" is working as a scout and ranger in the Black Shroud. Maxi's been able to come to an understanding with the Elementals of the Shroud, and is able to get where she needs for the most part without much issue. Because of this, she tends to get requests from the Twin Adders on scouting missions.

Rogue by any other Name: Maxi's "other job" is her real occupation, whether she likes it or not. She works for the Rogues' Guild as Hatchet, ranged weapons expert and best info broker they've ever had. If it needs knowing, she's learned of it, and if not, her vast network of contacts will figure it out quick

The One True Job (Stone): Maxi wields a single job stone: Dark Knight. She's not exactly sure how she ended up with it, but she got it, can wield the powers of, and has fully embraced the Darkness at times. Although Maxi doesn't use a greatsword, a bloodstained axe given to her is her chosen weapon, she still can perform devastating attacks nonetheless. Fray also makes appearances, either at moments of high emotion, or when she's having a discussion with herself

Dynamis?: There's a reason Maxi sucks at using Aether and makes a good DRK. Turns out she has a high skill with Dynamis usage, although up until recently she didn't even know what it was, let alone how to use it. Her emotions fuel her, the stronger the emotions, the stronger her ability to wield it. Her control of Dynamis is very limited yet, as she is far from mastering it, but there have been flashes

[jarael]

25 for......... hmm............... ghoa/magnai?

"I'll be back soon, before you know it," Ghoa had promised him.

The Sun was too proud, too bright to let show that he missed his nhaama. Yet his heart ached for her, to hear her soft contralto voice, to see her lush black hair shining in the Steppe's light.

It was time for Magnai to turn in for the night. Before he crawled into bed--their bed--he saw that Ghoa had left her favorite jacket behind. It was sheepskin, and soft enough to rival her skin.

He picked it up, and ran a hand back and forth over it. Her mother had made it, a long time ago, when they were teenagers. She'd cherished it ever since. Surely whatever business her friends had asked for help with was urgent enough to make her forget this.

Magnai brought it to his face. He thought he could smell her--always warm, grassy, with something like a hint of flame. He sighed.

He brought it with him to bed. He wrapped his arms around it, wishing it was her. The ache in his heart began to relent. She would be by his side again soon.

[anchor-management]

Growing Concern

----------------------------------

[TW] Body horror? Probs.

-----------------------------------

It was impossible to forget the feeling within those tunnels. Dark, dim, humid, and often so cramped you could smell the breath of the person working beside you. The stench of sweat permeating the stale, thick air, accented only by the aroma of ozone and earth. With every strike of the pick, he knew one wrong move could be his last. He’d seen it so many times before–whether it was the wrong part of rock, or the wrong part of crystal–either leading to one getting crushed and battered, or a good and much needed piece of one’s self torn asunder by the corrupted energies being abruptly unleashed. 

Anchor drew back the pickaxe in his hands, readying it for another swing. He could see his mark, the divot he’d already created to guide his aim. As the sweat dripped down between his shoulder blades, he brought the tool back down towards the stone surrounding one of those dimly lit crystals, the eerie amber glow enveloping his form in a swathe of radiating warmth. 

ping.

The familiar ringing sound of metal on solid rock pierced his ears as the tool met earth, and suddenly the hyur’s pick was embedded, not within the cavern wall he remembered so vividly on that island, but within a figure. Except, in place of flesh and blood was earth and crystal.

The creature’s ghastly face lifted slowly and stared back at him. No eyes; just that dimly glowing amber. The place where a mouth might be split open in a hissing wheeze, gradually revealing the molten insides of its cavernous maw. It got closer. The heat grew more intense. Anchor tried to get away, but he was held in place. There were many more of them. Once men, lost to the effects of the corrupted aether flooding the depths beneath the lighthouse he had been sent to; their features all distorted and deformed around the crystal protruding throughout their bodies. 

Closer. The very air started to swirl and waver between them, the intense heat making his eyes squint as the moisture was pulled from them. Closer. He could feel own skin peeling away, the reddish glow overtaking his senses, consuming him. His lips split as he opened his mouth to breathe; to scream. 

Anchor gasped in a ragged breath, and his eyes reopened not to cavern walls, but to tile, his senses returning to familiar pain throughout his lungs, limbs, and the feeling of water pelting overhead. 

The hyur reached numbly for the faucet, quieting the hiss of water pouring through the pipes until silence overcame the small shower. He sat there for a moment longer, letting the current reality clear the recent nightmare wrought by memories old and new. 

Roen and he had returned to the tavern. Things appeared to have slowed down enough. Or rather, he finally allowed himself to slow down, now that the situation apparently was under control. So, he finally made time to wash away the suns of sweat, dirt, and sick. 

A shame to say it didn’t make him feel much better. 

It wasn’t because of the aggravating ache permeating from his core and throughout, but rather it was this whole situation which left a restless, uncomfortable feeling in his gut. 

Anchor pulled himself upright, grabbing for a towel as he stepped out of the shower, water dripping off in his wake as his bare feet dragged over slick tile. His thoughts were still busy with this whole mess as he dried his hair. The ruined opportunity to meet with Doctor Nylor for one, which led to him being rendered unconscious for several suns due to overexposure of saturated, corrupted aether within the lighthouse. 

But mostly, it was the absence of any word from Nabi. Ghoa too, though recently Stormchild was able to make contact. But, why hadn’t either of them left word before then? Especially Nabi. 

No matter how much reassurance he got, nothing felt right about this. How could it, knowing they were in the estate of some doctor likely poisoning his patients with the very corrupted aether he claims to cure? He never much liked the idea of Nabi studying such aether as his in the first place, much less with some lunatic! 

He tossed down the towel onto the sink in a short burst of frustration, leaning his hands against the basin of it with a heavy sigh as it just as quickly left him. His gaze lingered, crestfallen at his own ineptitude to do aught but wait until he was updated. Curse this body. His eyes narrowed over to the left arm steadying over the sink, onto the hideous charred-like growth scarred along his forearm, then slowly lifted to the unfortunate reflection that greeted him in the mirror mounted just above. 

Anchor never really was one to look at himself fully. Suffice to say, he didn’t much like what he saw; the lack of restful sleep over the sennight, the aether sickness, and the usual aches and pains all took its toll. His calloused fingers ran over his more pronounced cheekbone, following it over the bruise-like circle under his eye. 

His eye… 

As he leaned in closer, Anchor could see within the unnatural crimson; something so small, it almost looked like a trick of the light. Small veins glimmered within, that sickening amber color he knew so well. And the longer he stared at it, the more pronounced it seemed, almost like it was glowing brighter, and brighter. Or was it that, in fact, it was growing? His chest felt tight suddenly, and his lips parted to take in a tentative breath. Despite the building panic, he couldn’t seem to look away, just watching as that eerie glow seemed to fill his iris, flooding crimson within amber. It melted into his sclera, then peeled back his eyelashes and eyelid, breaking into the flesh surrounding it. 

He watched in horror as charred earth split around a fissure of corrupted aether, spreading through his features like burning paper. He tried to gasp, but he could not breathe. All he could do was watch his reflection as his hardening lips peeled open into a gaping, glowing maw, the memory of those corrupted figures mirroring onto his image as dark ichor poured from the corners of his mouth.

Anchor’s back met the opposing wall in a heavy thud as he pressed a hand to his features, ready to claw at the formations overtaking him, but all that was felt there was skin. His skin, just as it had been before. Short, halting breaths puffed between his palm and fingers, and he slowly lowered them to look back to the mirror. 

There was no growth or alteration on his face, nor further around his eyes.

Not yet. 

Anchor stood there, breathing raggedly, regaining his equanimity, then let his features sink back into his hand. 

[afreesworn]

20: Anon

“You’re ridiculous.” He had called her that so many times. Ridiculous. But the last time she heard it, it was a soft murmur full of affection. “I’ll be back soon.”

Despite her best efforts to keep Anchor from her thoughts, his voice returned to her unbidden, especially during the lonelier moments when Nabi was left to her solitude. When her eyes grew tired from squinting at the parchment in the dimly lit space, her lids grew heavy, and amongst the shadows within her peripheral vision, she could imagine him sitting there. Small flickering motes of light blinked in the distance, much like the ones she’d watch dance in Kugane’s twilight. 

She could feel the ghostly whisper of the small metal bell brush against her hair, and the gentle press of the butterfly pin just above her horn. Just as he’d placed it there.

These moments, birthed by a desperate wish and weakness of her resolve, made her tremble. How many suns? It hadn’t been many, Nabi reminded herself. But it felt so much longer, as if time was stretched beyond its limits in this confined space. Seconds ticked by slower in the dark, away from the warm touch of sunlight, away from the scents she loved, of grass and flowers and sun-warmed earth. There were no songs to be heard here.

Anchor’s absence was palpable most of all, and every moment she wasn’t focused on something intently, her mind wandered to that empty place in her heart. Where was he? Was he alright? Was he worried? Was he ill? Would she see him again?

It was in these moments that anxiety gave way to regret. What if she never saw him again? She had been so consumed in pursuing a cure, did she miss signs of danger that landed her in her current predicament? Was she too reckless in coming here?

Their last words to each other played over and over in her mind. 

“Yara’æ,” he called her. A small promise of hope in the dark. The name felt like a secret treasure she could keep, all for her.

“I love it.” Her heart swelled when he gifted it to her. As it had, so many times before in all the little things he did for her. 

In all those times, did she ever say those words to him? Did he know how she felt? His life had been absent of petals. So many years devoid of color. Has she done enough? How was it that she had never said those words to him?

In the darkest moments when everything seemed uncertain, these were her greatest regrets. That he may never know how happy she had been, because of him. The profound joy that he had brought into her life. The love that had rooted itself so deeply into her heart, that it ached. The fact that she never told him, and were she never to see him again, that he would never know… that pained her most of all.

Nabi pressed her hands over her eyes, to stop the flow of tears before they began. Had she learned nothing from Anchor? Ghoa? Shael? She knew of the hardships they all endured, and even witnessed them play out before her eyes in that place below the ruins. They were so much stronger than her. She needed to at least try and follow their example.

She could not have regrets here. She has to see them again.

Nabi sniffed behind her hands, pressing firmly one last time to dismiss the sadness from her face. She didn’t want Mister North to see her despair upon his return. He too was trying his very best to comfort her in every way he could, staying with her in a place like this. She reminded herself to thank him upon his return. Then once more, upon their escape.

And then, most importantly, when she left this place, Nabi needed to let those she loved know just how much they meant to her.

[moonlifter-archive]

another christmas gift!! this time for my girl @jaliqai-and-company , done once more by the lovely @azeneth-mor !! ♡

sadly ko’a and ghoa are utter trash and there’s no cute poem to go with them, but i love them all the same.

[sea-and-storm]

OOC;

OH HEY

LOOK AT THAT

L O N G   S T R A I G H T  H A I R S T Y L E 

[shaelstormchild]

Out of Reach

While Shael would be the last one to boast about knowing anything related to healing, her proficiency in magitek was something she took pride in. So, it stung her ego to admit that she needed Marius’ help – an Imperial soldier of all people – to figure out what was going on with Saltborn. Shael had the tech to gather all the data, but not much of the know how's on the interpretation of it, in relation to the hyur’s current coma.

Nabi had been the one to monitor Saltborn’s ongoing ailment and communicate with Marius with the device that the Imperial had given them. But in teaching Nabi on how to operate the tech along the way, Shael was picking up knowledge on what various readings meant. 

So, when the scan after exiting the lighthouse revealed Saltborn’s entire body lit in bright orange, with angry red blotches pulsing in various areas, Shael’s first thought was to bring him to Nabi at all costs. It looked critical, and if something dire happened to the Confederate and Nabi was not there to help him, the xaela would never forgive herself. And Shael couldn’t have that. 

But their linkpearls were fried during their excursion into an underground cavern heavily saturated with corrupt aether and crystallized zombies to boot, and the alarm that had since been raised by Maelstrom at the unauthorized intrusion into Pharos Sirius had made immediate departure out of Western Noscea too risky. 

One small measure of comfort was that Marius was able to analyze the data and reassure her that Saltborn was in no danger of dying any time soon. He was suffering from aether sickness, possibly triggered by an overexposure in the lighthouse. Brick had already tried to comfort Shael in telling her what she already knew – that she couldn’t have stopped the midlander from taking on this mission – but she still blamed herself for letting it happen. In Nabi’s absence, she was supposed to ensure his safety through this. 

It was only with Brick’s aid that they were able to contact a chirurgeon in Moraby, and with Shael’s knowledge of the area near Swiftperch, she was able to smuggle Saltborn’s unconscious body out. They couldn’t go directly to Mist, they had to avoid all areas that had Maelstrom patrol gating the passage. But at least, Saltborn was in no immediate danger. He wasn’t well, by any means, but he would eventually come out of this aether sickness.

And that was the same news that the chirurgeon gave her once she reached Moraby. There wasn’t anything he could do, other than provide medicine for pain and nausea, and hydrate the man. It was up to the hyur to come out of it.

Shael was certain that Nabi would be able to do something more, the lass always had an inexplicable effect on Saltborn. But her messages sent by courier to their place of lodging in Mist came back unanswered. She nor Ghoa was there.

Had they gone back to the Nylor mansion? Hells… without the pearls, how am I s’pose to know if they are alright? 

Then Shael remembered. She smacked herself on the forehead before rising from the table, retrieving Saltborn’s pack to rummage through it. She had given him and a pearl to Nabi! Except his was put in a lined pouch to protect it from his own corrupt aether. So, by all rights, it should have been protected from the lighthouse too.

Shael held up the pearl, and with lips pressed together with hope, she placed it into her ear, calling out into the aether. “Nabi?” She waited. There was no answer. “Nabi,” she called again. “It’s Shael.”

But rather than a voice coming through the pearl, Shael felt something else. The hair on the back of her neck began to rise, just an instant before a pulse washed through the room. She recognized it, it was a much weaker version of the forceful push of aether that Saltborn occasionally manifested in times of need. That version could have thrown her across the room.

Shael immediately spun around, eyes wide on Anchor. One hand went to his forehead, and while it felt still warmer than his usual temperature, it was noticeably less than what it had run the sun before. She pried his closed lids open and blinked when she saw his iris shimmer gold. Not the usual amber of his corruption, but gold… like Nabi’s. What in hells…

Without hesitation, she snatched up the scanner. And what she saw, she had never seen in any previous images before. There was a different color, lighter, less angry, but rather a soothing iridescence, that was rippling through his entire silhouette. But as soon as she saw it, the effect began to fade, as if whatever triggered the process was already over.

Shael stared at the image that was left behind. The angry red hue that had spotched over various parts of his body was gone, and the orange that had filled his entire frame was cooling back to yellow, leaving remnants behind where it hadn’t been before. But mostly, things were returning back to how it had been before the lighthouse.

This had to have been Nabi. Shael couldn’t explain it any other way. But how could the xaela affect Saltborn without actually being present? Unless this was something entirely on his part. He had been around Nabi long enough, had one affected the other? She glanced down to the scanner to note the data that was already being sent to Marius, and for a second she considered stopping it. But short of destroying the device, there was no other way. Besides, the man probably could give more insight on the matter. They had all trusted him thus far…

But there was still no answer over the pearl. Shael’s finger rested lightly over it as if that would beckon the other to answer. But her scowl grew darker the longer the silence went on. Shael shoved the scanner back into her pack and strode quickly out the door to find Brick. They couldn’t sit around any longer. Something had happened to Nabi and Ghoa and she needed to figure out what.

[sawbonessagahl]

LFRP: Ghoa Sagahl

The Basics –––

Age: 33

Birthday: 10th Sun of the Sixth Umbral Moon

Race: Au Ra, Xaela

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Heterosexual, Monogamous

Marital Status: Single (Engaged to NPC as part of Plot)

Server: Crystal DC | Mateus

Physical Appearance –––

Hair: Long and a deep Chestnut Brown, typically pulled back from her face in a half-down style

Eyes: Cerulean and lightly slanted

Height: 4′10′’

Build: Slim and petite

Distinguishing Marks: None to speak of

Common Accessories: A turquoise gemstone in the center of her forehead, an indicator of her Khatun status among the Sagahl

Personal –––

Profession: Healer and Linguist

Hobbies: Traveling, Learning, Reading, Drinking, Singing (Throat Singing)

Languages: Common, Xaelic, Doman/Hingashi, Huntspeak, Amaljic, Ixali, Sahaginspeak, Gobbiespeak, Dragonspeak, Dalmascan, Rudimentary Garlean, Allagan & High Sylphic

Residence: Yanxia/Azim Steppe

Birthplace: The Azim Steppe

Religion: Undefined

Patron Deity: Nhaama

Fears: Feeling Trapped (Metaphorically and Physically)

Relationships –––

Spouse: None

Children: None

Parents: Delger & Borte Sagahl

Siblings: None

Other Relatives: None

Pets: None

Traits –––

* Bold your character’s answer.

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between /  Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Additional information –––

Smoking Habit: Never

Drugs: Never

Alcohol: Constantly

RP Hooks –––

WELL TRAVELED. Ghoa has traveled the world over and it’s natural that she would meet many new people along the way. Whatever walk of life your character may be from, Ghoa is non-judgmental and strives to be friends with most people she meets.

HEALER Is there a doctor in the house? Ghoa is well known for her healing poultices and remedies. Those with more serious maladies may have even been at the receiving end of her healing touch.

POLYGLOT. Perhaps your character helped her learn one of those many languages she speaks? Perhaps she seeks to learn a new one or your character needs a lesson or translator?

KHATUN OF THE SAGAHL Other Xaela may take note of the gem on her forehead. It is a well known tradition among the Sagahl that the Khan and Khatun wear the accessory to mark their higher status among their tribe.

OOC info  –––

I am based in the CST timezone and most available IG in the evening around 7 or 8pm CST until early morning. I am also fairly free on weekends

I live to plot. Creating new or past connections is one of my favorite things about RP

I am A-Okay with Discord RP in addition to IG RP.

Communication is important! I like to talk to the people I RP with and expect any partners to be able to communicate with me.

Contact Information  ––

My Discord is Hufflepug#5984 or you can message me IG or here!

[talesfromthegameff14]

Prompt 1: Crux

[CW: Blood spilling but no violence, madness, very grey FFXIV lore.  Mood Music:  https://youtu.be/hBTRq2Kgt3Q ]

He locked her in here. That fucking arrogant bastard locked HER in here.  Qacha stared at the opalescent barrier that kept her from leaving the forbidden parts of the Uyagir cave.  They shouldn’t be barred to her, but that bastard of a half brother kept their mother’s pendant from her.  It left her unable to claim what was rightfully hers, she was far more deserving of it than he was.   The words whispered into her horns all the years that she can remember ringing in her heart before being hissed out into the air. <“I stayed.  You didn’t.”> <“I learned.  You didn’t.”> <“I obeyed.  You didn’t.”> <“LET ME OUT YOU WORTHLESS PILE OF DZO SHIT!!”>  

There was no one to hear her, Ayanga having left hours ago uncaring of the slow death that he sentenced his sister too.  She kidnapped his children, her life was forfeit in his eyes the moment that happened.  Days passed, hunger gnawing at Qacha’s belly, thirst cracking her lips and gnawing at her throat.  It drove her to try the water from the mineral springs, a mistake she hasn’t made since.  Those hours spent in agony where she was certain that death was waiting for her were not something she wants to experience again.  Though, at this point, death would be kind.  Yet? Qacha could not let go of life so easily.  She had been promised more.  That more was the crux of it all, the very core of her entire existence.  Her mother had said it was so and Qacha was an obedient daughter, so it must be so.  Claws blunted from throwing herself uselessly at the shimmering barrier were walked along the wall of the tunnel she hadn’t found the end of yet.  There was no light here and she’d spent so much of her own aether trying to undo what the traitor had done that she had none left to spare to illuminate her way.   She was a child of the caves, but fear had her heart pounding from the perfect blankness that engulfed her sight.  Not even the faint light from her trap could travel this far along the curves and meanderings of the unknown path her feet fell upon. 

She couldn’t stand it, the not knowing, anxiety making every sound sharper until she was certain that the rolling of a pebble from her fingers signaled an impending cave in.  With a shriek of fear, Qacha curled herself up into a ball, pressed up hard against the unseen wall that was her life and her guilde.   The tall female shook in time with her frantic heartbeat, waiting, waiting for a doom that never came.  Time was meaningless here, she had no way to mark how long she cowered there beyond the ache in her back and the burning of her thighs.  In the end it was the brush of a pointed muzzle and thin whiskers on the back of an ankle that spurred the woman to move, again in a rush of horor that had her sprinting down the tunnel instead of sedately making her way.  Each twist in the tunnel had her scraping scales and flesh on the protruding rocks, leaving her blood behind in a macabre trail for any that came after her to follow.  A faint sense of light dazzled her eyes, a gasp of delight coming from her when she realized that the tunnel had edges she could see now.  Was there a way... out? Fresh air teased Qacha’s nose and stirred her hair, the sparkle of distant stars and the eternal visage of Nhaama seen through a break in the domed roof of the cavern she stumbled into.  The sky? Plants? A pond in the center?  Had she been climbing up? Is that why her legs and lungs burnt so much.  Unsteady legs carried her over the rune covered floor, bloodshot eyes focused on the pond that surely had to be her salvation.  There was no strong mineral smell, no heat, and plants growing along the walls, all signs that the water should be safe to drink.  The other warnings were ignored, the perfectly spherical shape the water was held in, the way the break in the roof mirrored the shape and placement of the pool, the ancient bones swept towards the smoothly sculpted walls of the room, and the rune carved into the raised stone Qacha knelt upon that was darkened by generations of spilt blood.  Blood from the wounds upon her arms dripped into the water as she scooped up as much as she could cup within the curve of her hands.  The first gulps were as refreshing as snow melt, a perfect nirvana to the suffering Qacha had endured for the past few moons.  She was going to live.  That bastard would regret this.  The surface of the water turned dark and reflective as more of Qacha’s essence dripped into the pool.  The plunging of pale skinned fingers into the water barely marring the silver hued surface, motes of moonlight were gathered in the woman’s hands only to be gulped down with eyes squeezed shut out of the pure bliss that followed her first sips.  That bliss shattered with the first swallow of blood and power that slid down her throat.  This wasn’t the fire of the mineral water, but ice.  Ice that gripped her bowls and crackled up her spine to spread along nerves like hoarfrost along the browned steppes grasses in the dead of winter.  Then it was winter, and spring, and summer, and fall then winter again, Qacha’s awareness tumbling backwards into the hundreds of lives that Uyagir Seers had walked prior to her panicked race to this sacred spot. A trained mind could endure. A soul lifted by ritual could endure.  A body disciplined by hardship could endure. Qacha was none of these, the only lessons Odtgerel gave to her daughter were indulgence, empty promises, and cotton candy dreams of power that turned insubstantial and sticky in the torrent of power that assaulted the xaela’s mind.  Her hands balled into fists, body convulsing and muscles locking in place tight enough for the worn and shattered points to dig into skin and draw blood.   Blood that ran in rivulets to the rune on the floor, slowly filling the outline of ancient Dominion.  With the first drop of blood from the channels of the rune into the pool the onslaught of foreign memories halted within the broken mind that was forced to house them.  She was Jebei, first to lead the Uyagir to the caves as a broken people trying to find favor with the gods once more.  No, he was Ghoa, kneeling by the pool to claim this part of the steppes as the first Khatun of the Uyagir and harbinger of the iron fisted rule that was to come.   Borte, Tolui, Khojin, Monx, Nachin, Argat, Kiyad, she was? he was?   Everyone, she was everyone that held a stone, poured life into the pool, dreamed the living memory of a tribe that once held dominion over the steppes in a way that only the Oronir could dream of.  Arrogant as the sun, the Oronir weren’t the first to be taunted that way, and now Eij.. no Qacha.  Her name was Qacha.  Now she led that knowledge, that arrogance, that forbidden knowledge locked away for only the Seers to know.  They were trained to hold it lightly, in silence, lessons to be learned from a past the tribe dared not repeat.  But a shattered soul could only see the glory to be gained under the sun that peeked it’s first rays through the broken roof of the cave.  A gloriously mad cry greeted the dawn, exultant and broken as it wound down into breathless sobs when the woman noted what she clutched in her hand.  An opalescent stone that was a perfect match to the one her brother wore at his throat.  <“I told you I’d win you fucking bastard.”>

[tae-ffxiv]

Prompt #29 (Bonus Day): Remain

Used one of the prompts I rolled for a previous bonus day. I did roll one for today, it was change, but I was feeling this one more. 

CW: brief depiction of blood, death (and grief, just in case that requires a warning?)

...

“’That remains to be seen’,” she quotes with a scowl. It’s not a flattering impression – nor a particularly accurate one – but it isn’t meant to be. Sechen crosses her arms and scoffs. “Have you ever wanted to kick someone’s ass so badly it made your foot ache?”

Beside her, Ghoa smiles, a light laugh escaping her, “Why not just ignore him? He’s always been a jerk.”

Sechen rolls her eyes, “A jerk that needs an ass kicking.”

A shake of the head from Ghoa, “Fair enough, I suppose.”

They banter a bit more as they walk, before parting ways.

Sechen strides into her family’s yurt. Her mother’s there, grinding herbs. She looks up from her work.

“Sechen!” there’s a smile in her voice, “How was your day?”

“People are shit,” Sechen grabs her bow and her quiver as she answers, hardly skipping a beat, “Why are people shit?”

He catches the shocked expression on her mother’s face as she spins on her heel, too quick on striding right back out of the yurt for her mother to give an actual reply.

Maybe shooting some practice targets will help her feel better. She channels her ire at them as she aims.

Subetei always hated being beaten, fragile ego that he had. So he has a habit of resorting to low blows, base insults. A bully that had never grown out of his bullshit. Usually, it doesn’t bother her, she scoffs, rolls her eyes. He’d never been worth her time.

But…

”It’s not like they left forever. They’re coming back eventually.”

“That remains to be seen.”

...Shit if he wasn’t right.

She looses the arrow, nocks another.

Her brother is gone, and Amba and Khai had left. Of the four of them, she was the only one that remained.

A scowl on her face, she shoots. The arrow strikes right next to her first one, practically hugging it. Both off-center. She draws another arrow.

What kind of asshole uses someone’s dead sibling as leverage in an attempt to patch their ego?

She lets the arrow go angrily. It doesn’t even hit the target, instead burying itself in the grass to the left.

She knocks another arrow but doesn’t draw the bow. After a few moments, she lowers it.

She isn’t alone here. She has friends, she has her mother, and her father. But somehow, she feels she’s been left here alone.

And all that remains…

A memory full of fear. The pain of an arrow in her thigh, and the pressure of her brother’s hand – slick with blood – as it squeezed hers. The feeling of helplessness as she held his has, nothing she could do as he bled out.

Worrying for Ambaghai’s life as well, as he lay recovering – hopefully recovering – from overextending his aether reserves casting spells, one of which had been improvised in an attempt to keep her brother alive. Surely that was what had put him over the edge.

And then watching him lose himself in the wake of the loss, and wanting to help so, so badly, but not knowing how, because she was feeling lost herself. Glad that Khai, at least, seemed to be handling it to some degree.

She’d had them to grieve with, for a time. And then they’d left.

She couldn’t grieve in front of her parents. Wanted to be strong for them. They’d lost their son.

But she hadn’t just lost her brother. In the end she’d lost all three.

And what remains?

Her throat is tight, tears well in her eyes, and she snaps herself back to the present. She thinks back on the sparring match that had set Subetei off in the first place. Because she’d won.

Her brother had taught her how to do that.

What remains?

She thinks back to flowers braided into her hair. Gentle encouragement.

She thinks back to laying under the stars with the three of them, her brother’s soft laughter at something she’d said.

She thinks to when she’d been a child, always intent on pulling peoples’ tails. Dayir’s reprimand, firm, but always kind, as he told her not to do that. The way he would give her a fake-scolding look years later when she continued to pull Ambaghai’s – and only Ambaghai’s – tail by way of teasing him, and the sharp grin she’d shoot back.

What remains?

Her brother’s still here, in bits and pieces. She could never be like him, could never exude that air of placidity, or gentleness. Even so, he exists in the best parts of her. Her confidence, her talents, her humor, and her own brand of kindness – different in appearance, but the same at its core. And she’s sure the same is true of Amba, and of Khai.

It doesn’t get rid of the loneliness, and it doesn’t always make her stop feeling she’s been left behind. But there is comfort in that knowledge.

She takes a breath and raises the bow, draws it back.

She hears footsteps behind her.

“What, you forget how to shoot a bow?” Subetei’s voice.

She briefly entertains the notion of spinning around and loosing the arrow at him. It’s not a genuine thought – certainly not something she’d ever follow up on – but it’s a tiny bit satisfying, nonetheless.

She glances over her shoulder to glare at him. He grins cockily.

“Go on then, let’s see if you can’t figure it out.”

She rolls her eyes, bares her teeth in a look of disgust and turns back to the target. She could shoot. She’d probably hit dead center now she’s not so upset. But that would only make him happier. So she lowers the bow and walks up to him, eyes fixed on his. She can feel the fire in them. Doesn’t matter that she’s shorter than him, she still takes up her most imposing stance, setting her feet solid on the ground before him.

“I have nothing to prove to you.”

And with another look of disgust directed at him, she walks away.

“Coward,” he taunts.

“Eat shit,” she calls back.

[wood-warder]

Really Long Character Survey

( @yascaret edited/removed some of the questions to make this more FFXIV-friendly )

RULES.  Repost,  don’t  reblog  ! Tag  10  !  Good  luck!

TAGGED BY. @yascaret and @violet-warder

TAGGING. EVERYONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

BASICS.

FULL  NAME :  Pjel Qoet

NICKNAME :  NO.

AGE :  It’s a mystery!

BIRTHDAY :  Summer

ETHNIC  GROUP :  Viera (Rava)

NATIONALITY :  Ivalician (?)

LANGUAGE / S :  Common

SEXUAL  ORIENTATION :  Homosexual

ROMANTIC  ORIENTATION :  Homoromantic

RELATIONSHIP  STATUS :  Much to her own surprise, she’s [re]entered into a relationship with Lofn Yascaret and Aja Hyskaris

HOME  TOWN / AREA :  Qoet, Golmore

CURRENT  HOME :  A little house in Shirogane, maybe?

PROFESSION :  Dark Knight, monster hunter, adventurer

PHYSICAL.

HAIR :  White with peach undertones, long and thick. Generally straight and kept neatly brushed and parted. On rare occasions, she’ll tie the bulk of it up into an enormous ponytail.

EYES :  Bright copper.

FACE :  Heavy lidded eyes, gently sloped cheeks, and a firm jaw that ends in a rounded point of a chin. Strong expressions are a rare sight as she seems to emote largely with her brows.

LIPS : Full.

COMPLEXION :  Dark, brown-grey. A smudge of a paler shade rings her nostrils and beneath the tip of her nose. Dappled with freckles most prominently across the apples of her cheeks.

BLEMISHES :  None that are visible at least.

SCARS :  Typically hidden. There are a few cuts, gashes, and worse that have left their marks.

TATTOOS :  A small marking on the bridge of her nose, the meaning of which is a mystery.

HEIGHT :   *Tall*.

WEIGHT :  On the heavier side, for Viera, on account of being RIPPED.

BUILD :  Marginally wider set than average for Viera. RIPPED, most notably in her core and upper body.

FEATURES :   Pjel considers herself fairly plain for Viera. A strong nose and thick brows, combined with her general impassiveness, lends herself to looking fairly severe and unfriendly in most instances. Thankfully, she’s fond of wearing a black face plate which cranks that up a few notches further!

ALLERGIES :  None that she’s aware of yet.

USUAL  HAIR  STYLE :  Worn down, long and parted down the middle. More of a mane than a defined style.

USUAL  FACE  LOOK :  Aloof, indifferent, perhaps even bored. In the company of friends, she’s more prone to soft grins that are barely even there.

USUAL  CLOTHING :   Heavy plate and mail in golds, black, and crimson. Loose shirts, preferably with high collars and low necklines. Trousers and heeled boots. Hyur fashions fascinate her but her sense leans towards crisp, utilitarian lines.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR / S :  Nothing. (Except for Garlean war machina, losing herself to Mist frenzy, and failure in general.)

ASPIRATION / S :  To live an honorable life, even if she will not be remembered by her home.

POSITIVE  TRAITS :  Fearless, stalwart, honest.

NEGATIVE  TRAITS :  Reckless, distant, too quick to trust, might have a bit of a martyr complex.

MBTI : ESTJ-A (Executive)

ZODIAC : Virgo

TEMPERAMENT :  Phlegmatic

SOUL  TYPE / S :   Server

ANIMALS :   Lion

VICE HABIT / S :   Brooding, gambling, distancing herself from loved ones (whoops!)

FAITH :  After a fashion, though not in Eorzea’s gods at least

GHOSTS ? :  Yes

AFTERLIFE ? :  Sure

REINCARNATION ? :  One can only hope

ALIENS ? :   ????

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT :  Garlemald bad

EDUCATION  LEVEL :  Enough to get by: basic reading/writing, basic arithmetic.

FAMILY.

FATHER :  Somewhere

MOTHERS :  Pjel has moved past resentment and settled into indifference. She thinks about them still, but not with any fondness.

SIBLINGS :  Many, none of whom she has spoken to in decades.

EXTENDED  FAMILY :  Certainly. When she knew them, she had little involvement in their lives. Now, she has none.

NAME MEANING / S :  Pjel of Qoet. If there is a deeper meaning to her name, it was not shared with her.

HISTORICAL  CONNECTION ? :  She was born there.

FAVORITES.

BOOK :  NO.

DEITY :  She respects the reverence of spirits as they do in Doma, but she is not inclined to worship them.

HOLIDAY :  ????

MONTH :  Summer

SEASON :  Summer

PLACE :  On the road between places, the interludes between one challenge and the next. A busy marketplace. Gardens and woods.

WEATHER :  Bright sunny days. Light summer rains, the kind that get humid and sticky.

SOUND / S:  Rustling grass and leaves. Birdsong. The steady drip or babble of water.

SCENT / S :  Approaching rainfall. Grasses, leaves, and earth. Flowers. Incense.

TASTE / S :  Fresh fish. Grilled meats. Creamy stews full of vegetables and mushrooms. Girlfriends.

FEEL / S :  Polished metal. Hard woods. Tree bark. Fur.

ANIMAL / S :  Cats. Chocobos, to a lesser extent.

NUMBER : What kind of nerd picks favorite numbers (it’s 3)

COLORS :  Greens, browns, blues

EXTRA.

TALENTS :  Cutting things the fuck up, teamwork, assessing threats quickly

BAD  AT :  Thinking things through, seeing the bigger picture, maintaining calm once she’s started to lose her temper, understanding and managing money, seeing through lies

TURN  ONS :  Women, especially the ones who can beat her up. Meaningful stares. Brief touches of skin.

TURN  OFFS :  Flirtatious men, chaotic or evil people, cowards, Garleans

HOBBIES :  Fishing, mending armor and blades, gambling

TROPES :  Lady and the Knight, Blood Knight, Combat Stilettos, Cool Mask, BFS, Emotion Suppression, Rage Breaking Point, Dark-skinned Blonde, Statuesque Stunner, Big Ol’ Eyebrows, You Can’t Go Home Again, The Stoic, Held Gaze...

QUOTES : “Let me make it up to you” is a thing she’s been saying to too many people recently

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 :  If you could write your character your way in their own movie,  what would it be called,  what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?          

A1 :  Some cheesy fantasy/action romp where Pjel not only becomes a renowned knight but also the champion of a beautiful sorceress and the rival/bro of another equally renowned knight. It would be called Final Fantasy 8 and everyone in it is gay.

Q2 :  What would their soundtrack/score sound like?          

A2 :  A lot of ambient sounds with light melodies that ramp up into cool battle themes. Basically a Soulsborne soundtrack.

Q3 :  Why did you start writing this character?          

A3 :   I’ve been dying for a viera character since they were teased at Fanfest 2014, and I have a deep love for the whole [dark] knight aesthetic. It’s helped tremendously that I have some really cool friends to bounce ideas and dumb headcanons off of.

Q4 :   What first attracted you to this character?          

A4 :   Viera + DRK = GOOD SHIT, but I am currently living for the Buny Death Squad

Q5 :  Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.

A5 :  She’s very short sighted and has a pretty black and white view of the world which can lead her to being dismissive towards people or ideas. Writing her has presented its own set of challenges because I try to rely more on body language and things like that. Sometimes I get the message across, sometimes not!

Q6 :  What do you have in common with your muse?          

A6 :  I have no connection to my family and I don’t know how to talk to girls.

Q7 :  How does your muse feel about  you?          

A7 :  I don’t think Pjel would think of me at all because I am a soft, weak human who has nothing to offer to the world.

Q8 :  What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with ?        

A8 :  Lofn and Aja have been wonderful foils and the chemistry they’ve been trying to rediscover has been so interesting to see. Meeting Anchor got off on such an odd foot (I’M SORRY) but I’ve enjoyed the dynamic there and I’m eager to see where their relationship goes. Likewise with Batuhan and Arasen but yall know I’m a sucker for Stoic Cool Warriors and Bastards, respectively. Nabi and Ghoa have been so delightful in their own ways, and I’m curious to see Pjel learn of Ghoa’s more manipulative tendencies... if she does at all, being the big idiot she is.

Q9 :  What gives  you inspiration  to write  your muse ?        

A9 :  Various battle themes, a lot of stuff from like FF8 and FF9. Soulsborne stuff because I’m weak for it. Also reading anything and everything from RP friends!! Cause yall are inspiring!!!!!!!!

Q10 :  How long did this take you to complete ?          

A10 :  The better part of a day off and on! I saved the tropes bit for last cause I knew that was going to take the longest.

[maxikha-ffxiv]

LFRP - Maxi Kha

This is all on her Carrd, but just saving people a click or two

Appearance -

Name: Altani “Maxi” Kha (proper birth name being Altani Dazkar)

Gender: Female

Race: Au Ra, Xaela

Age: 28

Height: 4′ 10″

Eye Color: Bright Blue

Hair Color: Black, teal highlights

Notable Physical Features: Freckles on her cheeks, back scar from a workplace accident

Build: Small but athletically fit

The Facts -

Name Day:  23rd Sun of the 2nd Astral Moon

Occupation: Archer, stereotypical “tavern wench” on the side

Sexual identification: Asexual

Romantic identification: Biromantic

Alignment: Good

Relationship Status: Single. She’s found it hard to have any meaningful relationship when she’s not interested in sex

Family: Mother and step-father travel around Eorzea with some other Kha as traveling merchants. Doesn’t speak of her father

Favorites –

Favorite food: Dumplings

Favorite drink: Eastern teas. Persimmon teas are a favorite

Favorite scent: The smell of the Shroud right after a storm has rolled through

Facts about Maxi:

⚫Maxi is by birth/blood a Dazkar, not a Kha. Her, her mom, and her grandmother fled the tribe when she was born. She was born out of a non-consensual act, and despises her birth father to this day for what he’s done to them.

⚫ The Kha adopted Maxi and her mother & grandmother after fleeing. Her mom fell in love with one of their merchants, and they were married when Maxi was only 5 years old. She is on good terms with her step-father, who has done all he can to help the women have good lives

⚫ Maxi was trained from a young age by her late grandmother, Ghoa in all the ways of Dazkar archery. Ghoa had the title “Butterfly of the Dazkar” in her prime, and taught Maxi what she could before passing of old age. After her passing, Maxi left for the Archer’s guild in Gridania to further hone her skills.

⚫  Due to not having a ton of money, Maxi spent a year or so waitressing/bartending/etc at various taverns and inns in Limsa and Gridania to save up coin to start out on her own.

⚫ Maxi lived at the Archer’s Guild once she joined, and was very studious while there. She spent about 2-3 years honing her skills in the ways of the Elezen and Miqo’te styles of Archery to compliment the Xaela style her grandmother taught her. This is where she met her close friend Seseta. After being drawn to the Skysteel project in Ishgard, Seseta gifted Maxi her hat, since the latter loved it. Maxi will still wear it to this day

⚫ At one point, Maxi was considered for the guild’s Bard project, since she was seen as one who was competent in planning and strategy. Maxi turned them down, citing she preferred to work alongside Bards, not as one. In reality, she’s tone deaf, and didn’t want to let that come to light

⚫ Maxi does have some form of aetherical affinity, leaning towards the lightning aspect. She has the raw talent and aether needed to become a healer, but Maxi has no interest in it at all. Instead, Maxi’s learned to use her aetherical abilites to modify her arrows and shots, being able to exploit magical weaknesses in her

⚫ Maxi’s travelling companion is her chocobo, Drumstick. She saved him as a chick, and raised him herself. Now they’re inseparable, and the chocobo hates leaving her side.

⚫ Maxi has one notable scar, three lines that run across her back. She sustained it from a mission gone wrong. A rabid direwolf got loose and attacked a small settlement. Maxi arrived just in time to see it attacking a child, and threw herself between them and the wolf. She saved the child’s life, but the beast’s claw tore up her back. After a couple weeks of recovery, she was able to return back to her normal life, but still has the scar to this day

⚫ Maxi is, by definition, a tomboy. Because of her upbringing, her choice in line of work, and what side jobs she’s worked, things of a fancy nature are foreign to her. She has a grand total of two nice dresses/outfits given to her, one by her mom as a birthday present, the other from a client as thanks for helping them with the food and bar for an event last minute. She doesn’t often wear either, but has been known to break them out for events when required.

RP Hooks (aka starting RP points) ––––

Archery: Maxi would be a known face around the Archer’s guild in Gridania. She’s known as good with a bow, and reliable to handle whatever job she’s given. Anyone who’s spent an extended period of time with the guild would have heard her name.

Side Job: Maxi has experience with bartending, waitressing, and general help staff with public functions. If you need someone to help with running an event in a pinch, she can help out

Xaela: Maxi has ties to both the Dazkar and Kha. She doesn’t know them all extensively or a ton of the tribal traditions, but she is open to learning from any other Kha or Dazkar she meets. Maxi especially wants to meet other Dazkar members, to learn more of the tribe she shares blood with.

Friends: Maxi needs friends, plain and simple. Where she got them, what they do, doesn’t matter. Let the girl have people to do stuff with. Either pre-established or new, doesn’t matter.

Wildcard?: If you have something you want to run by me, go for it.

Contact Information  –––

If you want to hit me up via Discord, let me know. I can pass off my username. Maxi is based on Balmung, but I can travel throughout Crystal no problem

@crystalxivrp​ @ffxiv-crystal-rp​

[dancingwalkingone]

LF>RP - Zorya Bridin (Balmung)

Age: 11

Birthday: 12/20

Race: Miqo’te/Highlander

Gender: Female

Sexuality: N/A

Marital Status: N/A

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE ––– –

Hair: Black, thick

Eyes: Green

Height: 4′8

Build: Lanky, athletic

Distinguishing Marks: Not marks, but her ears appear more like that of a Lalafell or Elezen’s, save for the backs being fuzzy. She lacks a tail IC.

Common Accessories: Bow, dagger, flowers/herbs, broken mammet.

PERSONAL ––– –

Profession: Student

Hobbies: Archery, singing, harp/lyre.

Languages: Common (fluent), eclectic tribal Moonkeeper (understands more than speaks).

Residence: The Lavender Beds

Birthplace: La Noscea

Religion: The Twelve

Patron Deity: Menphina, Oschon

Fears: Abandonment

RELATIONSHIPS ––– -

Spouse: N/A

Children: N/A

Parents: Hesperia Lunamaesta (mother, living), Hyuponia Lunamaesta (father, deceased), Nomuqan Gerel (stepmother, living).

Siblings: Libra (brother, 3.5 years), Ghoa (stepsister, 1 year), Celestine and Leontine (half-sisters, infants).

Other Relatives: Stella Bridin (grandmother, deceased), Axyl Bridin (grandfather, living), Astor “Astro” Bridin (uncle, living).

Pets: Alexandros (behemoth).

TRAITS ––– -

* Bold your character’s answer.

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between /  Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful / N/A

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION ––– –

Smoking Habit: No Drugs: No Alcohol: No

RP HOOKS ––– –

She often roams the Twelveswood, singing, playing music, and hunting. She is something of a trickster and pretends to be an orphan despite being far from destitute.

Zorya loves books! She does not go to a proper school, only specific lessons, but devours books voraciously. She adores fantasy and children’s stories in particular, so bookstores would be appealing to her.

Interests: She takes dance, harp, singing, and archery lessons. It would not be strange to meet someone somewhere these things are taught, or perhaps out in the field training.

Maybe someone will finally convince her to go back to school! Aside from that, she occasionally hangs out in places where she might meet other kids such as playgrounds and near-ish schools.

Characters under 18 preferred (kindly older folks are fine, though)! Friend and rival ships only, please!

CONTACT INFORMATION  –––

IG - Zorya Bridin, Odgerel Bayaqud, or Hesperia Lunamaesta. I’m almost always in-game! Otherwise, you can message me on this blog or my main blog http://eveningandmorningstar.tumblr.com! Thank you for reading!

[anchor-management]

😏 - Lying!

“As if you has any right to question me on lyin’, slag!” 

Anchor is shamelessly comfortable with lying/bluffing at the drop of the hat. He’ll pretty much say anything to manipulate a situation in his favor if odds seem to be stacking against him. This tends to work most cases because Anchor isn’t shy about voicing his opinions on matters or others normally, and people seem to believe him when he drops a fib in the mix; he’s quite good at half-truths. And he’ll just get insulted and pissed-off if no one believes him otherwise. 

Whether or not he’s successful or not depends on the person, I suppose; how well they know him and catching the tells.

answered: 🍻 😠 ✊ 😏ask meme nabbed from here!

[afreesworn]

23: Pitch

“I should have known better than to add all the peppers,” Chanai said ruefully, one hand going to her swollen belly as she leaned back against her elbow. “Although Nabi seemed to have enjoyed them. I think she is dancing in the womb.”

“I warned you,” Chagur chided with a soft smile, lightly pressing his lips over her navel. “Our child will relish all sorts of flavors.” He reclined next to her on the pelt he had laid down for both of them. They couldn’t bring too much with them for these secreted unions away from both of their respective tribes, but Chagur was determined to make the mother of his child as comfortable as possible. Especially since she was only a few moons away from bringing a new babe into the world.

Chanai shook her head, her raven locks falling in small wisps around her golden eyes. Chagur could see her struggling to hold back her amusement. “I will never get any sleep tonight. I think our daughter is hosting the next Naadam in there.” Then a knowing smile came over her, and she canted her head, giving her lover a coy smile. “Unless you think you can woo her to sleep?”

There was nothing Chagur would deny this woman, especially when she looked at him so. But this particular request had him promptly pushing off the rug, rolling over to his pack, where he grabbed a wrapped oblong instrument. He sat up and uncovered it carefully, the fabric falling away to reveal an elegant wooden carving of a horse’s head first, then the rest of Morin Khuur. He had packed it with such care, knowing that it would be needed in exact moments like these.

He could immediately see Chanai’s expression softening. She always loved the sounds of Morin Khuur. She pulled up a rolled blanket to serve as a pillow to lay upon, as Chagur sat cross legged in front of her, situating the string instrument. He twisted the end to tighten the bow hair, before testing out the strings themselves with a few gentle plucks.

Then resting the wooden neck against his shoulder, Chagur’s gaze bowed, as he put the bow to the string. His left hand moved knowingly over the pair of woven hairs, summoning each note, from low deep timbre to a gentle lighter pitch. It was a song that came to him in a dream, where he imagined singing to his child, under the warm golden sun and the bluest ocean skies. And since he felt helpless as a Junghid in being unable to provide for Chanai as their child living amongst the Kharlu, he wanted to gift their daughter the only way he knew how.

The Morin Khuur sang soulfully in his hands, the male and female strings together composed a harmony that filled the space around them. It reminded him of the rolling winds over the tall golden grass of the plainlands, and the chanting of shamans that greeted the arrival of dusk. The mood of the song shifted from night to day, then light to dark, carrying the distant neigh of the wild horses, the high echoing calls of the yol, and the chorus of crickets that filled a quiet night.

It was all the sounds that filled his suns, and since he couldn’t be with Chanai and Nabi as he wanted, he wanted to leave his child with his own vision of the world. So that his daughter would know, when she eventually heard all these sounds of life, that his thoughts and love for her were ever present in them.

When the last note faded into the night and Chagur raised his head, Chanai gazed upon him with such a look of affection that stole his breath. But she drew his attention back to her belly as she rubbed it lightly, an amazed look on her face.

“Nabi has gone to sleep,” she whispered, as if anything louder might disturb the peace within her womb. “She takes to your songs like a lullaby, resting so peacefully.” Chanai sighed, her voice full of awe. “And each time, it fills me with such a sense of tranquility.” After a pause, she added in a quieter whisper, “And hope.”

She shook her head, incredulous and yet amused. “Is this what all women experience when carrying a child? This sense of enlightenment?”

Chagur set the Morin Khuur aside, and slid upon the rug to come lay next to Chanai once more. He placed a light kiss upon her lips and nuzzled their scaled noses together. 

“I do not know of any others, but you and Nabi make me want for more. A new world. A better world. For us. A new life.”

Chanai regarded him quietly, and Chagur could see her expression starting to dim. He recognized the shadows of doubts and worry that were never far in her thoughts. They haunted her like a ghost. But before he could lose her to her darker thoughts of the future, he pulled her face closer to him, embracing her in another deeper kiss. 

For as long as he was able, Chagur swore to himself a silent oath, that he would protect the two people he loved most in this world. To Azim he swore to protect them from any darkness that would fall, and to Nhaama any harm that would threaten.

On his soul, he swore.

[tsukito-xiv]

RP Profile: Tsukito Watanabe

Tsukito Watanabe

The Basics ––– –

Age: 33

Birthday: 15th Sun of the 6th Astral Moon

Race: Au Ra Xaela

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Homosexual

Marital Status: Married to @una-xiv (The cute nerd family)

Physical Appearance ––– –

Hair: LONG, Thick, and Purple. Normally puts it up in a ponytail and it still reaches past his waist, or lets it down (sometimes flowers are in it)

Eyes: A very light purple, almost a little hard to see with the darker sclera. 

Height: 7′ 3″

Build: Thin, still a little underweight for height and race but actually has some mass to him now, some muscle with Unas help, he’s very thin but he’s in the stage between unhealthly and healthy.

Distinguishing Marks: Purple hair (it’s not that common since it’s his natural hair), large scar across the chest, scarred stab wound in abdomen, scaleless splotches in some areas due to injury and sickness. 

Common Accessories: His wedding ring, small satchel, some hair accessory, glasses.

Personal ––– –

Profession: Co-owns Bookstore, On-call medic for both conjurors and adventurers guild. 

Hobbies: Sewing, Cooking, Dancing

Languages: Doman, Eorzean (Common)

Residence: Gridania

Birthplace: Doma

Religion: Unknown, he has many things tugging at him in terms of religion and at this point, he is just tired of such things. The closest to religious beliefs for him would be in the Kami. 

Patron Deity: Thaliak, the Scholar (Given when in Eorzea, isn’t sure what to really make of it but doesn’t question.)

Fears: Betrayal, Losing Una again, Having something bad happen to Ami, Heights, Losing his mind to a certain deity, accidentally killing himself from being forced to use magic. 

Relationships ––– -

Spouse: Una Watanabe

Children: Ami Watanabe (rescued baby now raising her), Tristan Cauvolier (protected, teenager, is a good brother to baby Ami)

Parents: Isamu Watanabe (Alan Ghoa Iriq), Ami Watanabe (Khashin Borlaqq)

Siblings: Only Child 

Other Relatives: Daritai Iriq Dotharl No Tribe affiliation- too violent (Unknown Cousin). Cira Borlaqq (Daritai Mother, Tsu’s Aunt)

Pets: Ayame (Dwarf Rabbit), Shiro (Lamb Minion), Sora (Tiny Tapir)

Traits ––– -

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between /  Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Bolded- True Italicized- Leans this way if In Between

Additional information ––– –

Tsukito’s aether can sometimes close off, meaning he is fine unless he uses magic. The closed off aether means when casting he pulls upon his own life to heal others, it still happens and to those sensitive to aether may sense something different about him be it from that or an outside force (tempering)

He’s weak, he is not phyiscally strong and others have used this fact against him to gain the upper hand. He is, however, strong with magic casting (when he is able to do so). If not, he is able to flee quickly, even with another being it Una or Ami, in his arms. Choosing to train as a shinobi employing speed (and poisons he’s made) over strength. 

RP Hooks ––– –

Tsukito can easily be seen walking around Gridania with a tiny pink-haired au ra baby in his arms. He usually takes her out so she can socialize with kids and other adults. He may also be accompanied by a small miqo’te girl, his best friends daughter. His demeanor and that he can read usually ends with him sitting down somewhere and a swarm of kids around him wanting him to tell stories. You might have seen this happen, maybe your character has a kid that was among the group.

Ever been injured? Tsukito does work as a medic in Gridania, he is not beholden to certain groups and goes where he is needed. He is an exceptional magical healer and alchemical one as well. He may of healed an injury of yours in the past or perhaps you are recently injured and needing aid. 

When he was younger, he was very outgoing and would drink a fair amount. May have known him during those times as a friend or perhaps someone he maaay of had a one-night stand with, as he did have those back then before getting into relationships. He dated a few women but only men have gotten him in such a way. 

Doman refugee or visiting now? Tsukito hails from Doma, he’s however not that...fond of his past if you happen to know him. If you are just Doman and want his help around, he’d be happy to help but otherwise if you know him and his (tempering) circumstances of raising as a priest in the village, he will avoid you and if you keep trying it may end in threats and/or violence. He wishes to remain “presumed dead” by those people who know or had taken part in it. 

You may know of him through old rumors when he was with his last boyfriend since it ended in public in the Carline Canopy in violence. It was an abusive relationship which ended with many eyes on them. His at the time boyfriend above him with a table flipped and Tsu injured on the ground after a brief beating in the others rage. This made some rumors circulate around him, especially within the lancers guild which he was apart of at the time. 

Contact Information  ––– –

My tumblr (Should still be here after all the stuff happening since i don’t post the stuff being taken down)

Twitter @ TsukitoXiv

Discord @ Tsukito-xiv#3502

Instagram @ daxmana_ffxiv