#Arduro Vocitus

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Civil Disobedience

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AAAAAH LOOK AT THEM BEING ALL CUTE

Please please go commission them! Their style is so beautiful and they are so wonderful to work with!

Commission to @benes-diction! <3

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Weep for yourself, my man You'll never be what is in your heart Weep, little lion man You're not as brave as you were at the start

Rate yourself and rake yourself Take all the courage you have left And waste it on fixing all the problems That you made in your own head

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there will always be consequences.

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Oh no, did I get too close oh? Oh, did I almost see what's really on the inside? All your insecurities All the dirty laundry Never made me blink one time

Unconditional, unconditionally I will love you unconditionally There is no fear now Let go and just be free I will love you unconditionally

Come just as you are to me Don't need apologies Know that you are all worthy I'll take your bad days with your good Walk through this storm I would I'd do it all because I love you, 

I love you

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parting thoughts.

Tagging @korporxie / @doctorlaelia-ffxiv / @whitelotus-ffxiv​ for mentions of her gals!! And also as a big heckin’ ‘thank you’ to pushing out content while we play with our characters in our Discord sandbox!

It is an odd feeling, having my family at my side once more without the backdrop of Garlemald behind us. The air of Doma is thick and heavy with humidity. The fog hangs heavy over its mountains like something from a painting. I can see the people milling about in their villages, tending to their simple lives, smiling and laughing, from the windows of the carriages as we travel to the easternmost docks. Sometimes a few children will follow beside us, holding pinwheels to the breeze as they race the horses.

Though my childhood memories remain fuzzy, I like to think that I smiled as they do, that I was a happy child when not around Caius and my grandmother.

The Jade Palace is a cursed place. That is my final observation of it. The people living there can act as though they’re better than my family and I, that despite our hands not having Doman blood upon them we are just as complicit as Yostuyu and Prince Zenos.

Emperor Zenos, now, if the rumor mills from Arduro and Auntie’s network of informants is to be believed.

But the people in that palace smile with daggers and teeth ready to tear. Their eyes aren’t soft at all; they’re hard and cold, eternally looking for a weakness to exploit. They’re strange and otherworldly, and merely being in their presence made me want to cower behind my mother’s skirts like a tiny child. And that man… That lecherous old man, offering up his grandchild like a bartering chip, was the worst of them all. As much as I wish my mother controlled herself more, her outrage mirrored my own, and I am grateful that she uses her voice when she deems it necessary. It reminded me too much of my grandmother, arranging a marriage with a man who would become my friend.

I wonder if he realized who we are—refugees and outlaws, fleeing a land drenched in chaos and war, desperate for sanctuary. We’re not people who could give him a leg to stand upon in Garlean politics, even if we wanted to.

And judging by hawkish looks Father and Auntie gave him, I will bet that if he tries it with another Garlean more susceptible to his snake-like charm, they will fight him every step of the way.

I hope the Au Ra woman he’d tried to woo at his banquet chokes him in his sleep before then.

But the palace, in all its shining glory, in all its rotted corruption, is behind us, finally. And I am grateful.

The winds from the ocean aren’t much better than the muggy mountains, and the water stretching far into the horizon threatens to swallow me whole if I take a wrong step. But we are in the final stretch of our journey.

Father holds his head higher. Mother holds his hand and tells us all stories of her travels before my siblings and I were born. Auntie Caelia and Calliope hold each other tighter. They’re anxious to see Caius again and meet Audrey, I think. And I almost think that, despite herself, Laelia’s mother is grateful to see the sun reflecting upon the waves.

And Arduro…

My Arduro.

Audrey told me on a rickety little rowboat that she thought water had no memory, that it cleansed and healed. I still stare into its depths and see nothing but a hungry mouth that wishes to erase me from existence, but I hope—I pray, to whatever Doman or Hingan kami, or Eorzean god that wishes to listen—that she was right.

I wish that this next journey across the ocean will be one that lifts the weight that presses on his shoulders.

Even if it doesn’t, I know that his hand is always there to hold mine. Even if he won’t allow me to shoulder the burdens he bears, I can be there, at his side, and do my best to give him strength to push on.

I know we’ll be returning, at some point; I can see it in Arduro’s eyes every time someone mentions Bozja. He’s a man of action, and his grandfather still remains in Garlemald, doing what he can.

The drums of war are always thudding in his chest, and I don’t know if they’ll ever silence completely.

These moments in Hingashi will be our reprieve, but when the time comes, he’ll be marching off to wage war on those who silence the vox populares.

And I will be at his side.

Now and always. 

Manus in Mano.

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“In the stillness of our dreams, our loved ones speak.”             ― Angie Corbett-Kuiper

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sanctuary in jade.

If she was honest with herself, she hadn’t expected much from Laelia’s contacts in Othard. Celia had only heard secondhand about the tragedies the Domans had faced during the Garlean occupation, and she knew better than to get her hopes up. But Laelia never ceased to amaze her.

When she’d heard the name of the place—the Jade Palace—she’d expected some formation of rock resembling towers, not an actual compound stretching into a lagoon.

It was�� beautiful.

She heard her mother gasp beside her and wrap an arm around her shoulders, explaining the architecture to her—Theodosia always did have an appreciation for Doman culture—and even her father managed to look up from where he lay in the cart to examine where they were going.

But Celia couldn’t help but see Arduro and her aunt grip their weapons just a little tighter, too. The locals had warned them—or at least, that was what Celia had gotten from their tones and the little Doman she could understand thanks to Hayabusa. The people in the fishing villages outside the lagoon’s reaches whispered that it was a cursed place, that pretty young women who entered there never returned to their families. They’d looked at her—though why, Celia wasn’t certain—and a few of the other young, much prettier refugees with a mixture of pity and hatred. But apparently the nobles living in the isolated lagoon held enough sway over the peasants that no one seemed keen to inform the Alliance of Garleans in their midst.

Small blessings, she supposed.

What struck her first was the dizzying number of servants rushing around—all women, all clad in flowing, low-cut dresses of varying pale colors. She’d thought the Benes home had plenty of hired hands to keep things running smoothly, but… that place, this serene, surreal place, seemed like a city in itself. They clustered around each other like flocks of birds, staring at them as their driver brought their cart over the redwood bridge. Celia caught some looks of horror flashing across their faces as they passed by, some immediate grimaces of disgust and disdain, and her gut coiled with guilt. The sight of Garleans with their third eyes unhidden must have been a fright for any who suffered under the occupation.

Then again, she thought to herself, lowering her eyes to her hands in her lap, some of those people might have gotten the same looks from any Garlean they might have come across.

“So many water lilies,” Theodosia mused under her breath, rubbing at Celia’s arm. “And the water is so clear here! How beautiful…”

“It is, Mother,” she murmured back.

“We’ll have to commit this all to memory so we’ll have stories for your brother.”

The cart driver didn’t take them the full way; before the last bridge, they pulled their horse to a stop, turning to glare at them. Celia couldn’t understand the Doman very well herself, but she caught the quick purse of her mother’s lips as the hotheaded woman bit her tongue.

“Is something wrong?” she whispered, sliding out of the seat, taking Arduro’s offered hand as she stepped down onto the smooth, red planks of the platform.

“Oh, it’s nothing, dear,” her mother answered breezily. “This nice man was just informing us that he’s already taken us further than he’s comfortable with.”

Without missing a beat, Theodosia shot the driver a smile over her shoulder before reaching out to help Lucius step down. It still pained Celia to see her father in such a weakened state, forced to lean on others around him just to stand. But all things considered… she couldn’t complain. Her father was alive. He was recovering, albeit slowly. She wasn’t about to push her luck and wish for more.

With her aunt taking over supporting Lucius, they all stepped to the side to let the cart driver turn around and begin the journey out of the secluded cove, but the servants outside stared at them, almost shamelessly. Celia could feel their eyes on her like brands.

Be strong, she told herself. Be brave. Be like Laelia and Audrey. They would stare them down until they had to look away in shame or until their expressions turned sour.

“We should get Father to where we’re staying,” she murmured aloud as she shook herself internally. “He needs a decent rest.”

But first, she reminded herself, she’d have to face Laelia’s contacts and thank them profusely.

The whispers from the servants followed her and the small group as they made their way inside—slowly, to avoid exhausting Lucius. Part of Celia wanted to snap at them, to demand they shut up, but… she had no right. She had no right to be pushy when she was a stranger in this place, an invader who, for once, was not part of an invasion. Even her mother was visibly biting her tongue, and Celia knew for a fact that Theodosia had a better understanding of the Doman language than she did and could tell what they were saying.

Be strong, she told herself again. Be patient. They could keep to themselves as soon as they were settled in.

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"They were a people. You are a person. You have to adjust your measuring scale, marshmallow." He chuckled and sat back, fully relaxing now on the shore. How long had it been since he just... existed? He couldn't place it, but he knew in his heart that he wouldn't give this up. This moment, this place, this company, for anything.

 "They were a people," she relented, almost pouting. "But... there were plenty of single persons among them. I've done little in comparison. You can start hailing me as being among their ranks if I singlehandedly force Garlemald into reforming the republic." She shot him look, glancing over him as though examining if he was ill. She didn't want to point out his sudden unfiltered speech, lest he clam up on her again, but... it was odd. Good, but... odd.

When the love of your whole entire life pushes past his writer’s anxiety and surprises you with soft and sweet moments with your Garle-beans. 🥺 I saved the whole RP into a Word document and have been reading it over and over and it just makes me smile like a dweeb. 

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“You like me... don’t you, tol?”

“...”

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            Hanging from my fingertips,

                 you're a phantom man

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    My, oh my Looks like the boy's too shy   Ain't gonna kiss the girl

                                              Ain't that sad                                          It's such a shame, too bad                                            You're gonna miss the girl

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Funny how you can hold your whole world in the palm of your hand.