#Chapter: [Family And Thavnair]

[umbralsound-xiv]

Prompt #23 - On Cloud Nine

Character: Eir Age: 31 Location: Dalmasca, 1492, Sixth Astral Era Warnings: Childbirth

He'd paced the hall so frantically for so long, it was a wonder he'd not worn the brickwork thin. Every sound from the room causes him to stop, to see those long ears tilt back in worry.

Another scream from behind the door sees him bolt to it, anxiety welling up in his throat.

It shouldn't have even been possible, but how were they to know? They'd assumed for their differing races, a child wouldn't have been a possibility.

But they'd assumed wrong. B'nhara's pregnancy hadn't been an easy one, riddled with aches and pains and nausea, but the time had come for their new arrival.

He was asked by the medical personnel to wait outside, though always in arm's reach; Water, towels, they were all brought swiftly. He was asked to wait, and so he did, but he couldn't settle.

It must have been bells, or what felt like them, before a second cry carried with her own; the mewling cry of a baby, new to the world.

Eir can't help but give a fleeting, nervous smile to the sound. Crying meant their child was alive, and the relieved sobbing of his wife within had at least meant she still retained her consciousness. He was warned of what could have happened, both of them warned of complications that could have taken either of their lives... But thankfully, were not to be.

Everything fell quiet, then. Eir had settled by the door, head half-turned to listen, and almost falls through the doorway completely when it's opened.

"Mister Fellfrost...?" The Hyuran woman looks him up and down, and back to the occupants of the room. Eir barely gives her a moment of a nod before he bolts in, to find his family.

"Svangeir..." B'nhara's words were sighed with relief, cradling a small bundle that babbled with contentment. "...She's beautiful." Though the woman herself looked to have better days; bloodied blankets and sweat laced her skin, crimson hair stuck to her cheeks from the exertion.

"A... A little girl...?" Eir asked. Relieved to find his wife alive and well, he turns his attention to the small wrap of fabric in her arms. A soft gasp leaves him, overcome and teary eyed. "Oh, Nara... She is perfect..."

The bundle is offered to him, which he cradles as though it's the most precious thing he's ever held. Her hair was an ashy grey just like his, large, pointed ears sitting flat on her head. They'd find out what colour her eyes were when she opened them, in her own time.

In that quiet moment, Eir is the happiest he's been in his life. Though unsure of his actions, or how to care for a child, he makes her a silent promise, gently tracing a finger over her tiny little features; That he'll do his best for her, no matter what.

[paintedscales]

012.1 The Rice Farmer

A children's tale from the lands of Thavnair about a humble rice farmer, well-loved due to his compassionate ways. When a particularly harsh summer arrives, this rice farmer attempts to find something else to do in order to provide for his budding family and village if his paddies could no longer be sustained.

Word count: 1,409

Steppe by Steppe Chapter List

Misc notes: The tale is intentionally written the way it is as something that is passed from one storyteller to another. This was part of the previous chapter of Steppe by Steppe of Haragin, but I decided to cut it and make it its own story separate from the primary one as it felt far too distracting. Instead of simply scrapping it because of that fact, I'm deciding to share it.

Tucked away within the jungles of the northern parts of Thavnair, there was a village on the edge of a great lake. The farmers of this village drew water from the lake to tend their fields, believing it had special properties that made their crops grow better than those of other villages nearby -- bigger, more bountiful, and much tastier.

In this village there was a farmer named Duru who lived with his wife and grew rice in paddies filled with water drawn from the lake. He took only what he needed, ensuring he could grow rice not just for himself, but for the entire village. Duru was dedicated to helping his people, ensuring they had food for the season from not just his bounty, but  from the other farmers' crops as well. Due to his giving and helpful nature, he was beloved by all in the village.

It came as no surprise that when Duru and his wife announced they were expecting a child, the village showed their immense happiness and joy for them. The more joy that Duru was shown from his fellow neighbors, the more he started to feel a sense of unease and confusion. Frustration was even one such emotion that welled within him. Part of him thought he should be happy like everyone else.

All the emotions he felt stemmed from the absence of a name for their child. None of the names they considered or thought about felt meaningful or special enough for what they believed would be the most precious addition to their lives. It was a rather troubling conundrum that left a heavy weight upon both of them.

Summer soon arrived, and with it, an unbearable heat. Duru diligently tended to his paddies while caring for his wife and unborn child. Despite their efforts, they still had no name for their baby. They pressed on despite this; they had to. They endured the sweltering heat day by day until Duru noticed something alarming: the lake could no longer be used to keep his paddies filled with the necessary water.

With no rain, the waters in Duru's paddies were drying up. The lake's water was slowly vanishing, and what once nourished his fields was disappearing. To Duru, it felt like the land itself was punishing him for not sharing in the happiness others had for him.

Seeking to make things right, Duru set aside all the water he had left and buried his paddies, abandoning his life as a rice farmer then and there. He distributed the remaining water to his neighbors, urging them to use it for their crops or to drink as needed. He hoped this selfless act might appease the Gods and end his perceived punishment.

With his paddies buried, Duru's reliable source of food was now gone. He resolved to save all the rice he could, keeping some water for himself to care for his pregnant wife. By spacing out his trades and ensuring he had what his wife needed, Duru earned her appreciation and praise for his selfless deeds. She was always a patient and wise woman, and Duru counted himself lucky to have such a wife who, even when heavy with child, helped to uplift him when things were looking bleak.

Thanks to his wife's comforting words, Duru reflected on how the drought affected more than just himself. He realized just how shortsighted he had been in thinking only he was being punished. Why, many in his village were equally affected!

Determined, Duru awoke early the next day. As a farmer of routine, he instinctively prepared to tend his paddies. Stepping outside and seeing the buried paddies, a wave of grief washed over him. The routine of tending his rice paddies had been so ingrained. He sat at the edge of where his paddies used to be, silently mourning the loss now that it had truly sunk in.

As he sat in silent grief, Duru looked up at the clear skies above. Nary a cloud was in sight.

He sighed, feeling defeated. Realizing his grief was becoming overwhelming, Duru reminded himself that his wife and unborn child were relying on him. Getting back on his feet, he decided he could set traps or even learn to hunt to provide food for his budding family. Perhaps he could even see if the jungle's bounty would be enough.

Equipping himself with materials to trap prey, a dagger for defense, and some food and a skin of water, Duru set out into the surrounding jungle. He hoped to bring something -- anything -- back. He thought to himself that if he failed, he shouldn’t worry. He believed he had enough reserves at home for at least a fortnight. That sounded like it would be enough to catch or be able to forage for something.

As Duru ventured, he came across what appeared to be a white elephant.

'What luck,' Duru thought. Before him was a meal he could bring home with little effort. However, as he drew closer, he realized this was no ordinary elephant, for it simply had the head of an elephant, and the body of a man. Duru had stumbled across a great manusya.

Quickly feeling regret for his previous thoughts, Duru apologized to the great manusya who laid on the jungle floor. He approached cautiously, fearing the manusya had sensed his desire to eat its flesh. Instead, he found the manusya injured, its breath ragged and strained.

Fortunately, Duru had also packed bandages and salves in case he got injured. Praying for forgiveness if he was overstepping, he tended to the manusya's wounds. The manusya remained silent, and Duru stayed by the manusya’s side throughout the night, ensuring no harm came to them in their vulnerable state.

When dawn broke, Duru awoke to find the manusya gone. In their place were three fruits, a brilliant golden yellow in color. Though the manusya had vanished without a trace, a voice rang out in Duru's head as he approached the fruit: ‘With these fruits called amra, nourish you and yours. Use their seeds to grow more. For the kindness shown to I, Indra, rain shall grace your land once more.’

Duru, with the fruit in hand, looked up at the skies in shock. He had no reason to doubt the voice's words -- there was zero doubt within him that they really were that of the divine manusya’s. After all, many in his village revered Indra, the bringer of rains.

Taking the fruits back home, Duru calmed his worried wife by explaining what had happened. His words and experience did much to quell her, and she told him that she was simply glad to have her husband back.

That night, as Duru cut the fruit for his wife, the soft patter of rain began to fall. The sound grew louder until a nourishing storm drenched their land.

As the rain fell, its sound a comforting chorus, Duru looked at his wife with a realization. This realization filled him with excitement, for he had a name for his child. When his beautiful daughter was born, he looked upon her and said, “Your name is Suyun, and you are named for the water that gives us life. It is my hope that you grow up with the desire to love and nurture as we will show to you.”

During their time as new parents, Duru also did as Indra asked and planted the seeds of the amra, caring for his family all the while. What was once a paddyfield was now turned into a small grove of the precious amra that Indra gifted Duru. The trees grew quickly -- perhaps another gift that Indra bestowed upon Duru and his family.

As Suyun grew up, she watched her father cultivate amra, the ripe fruit a brilliant yellow like the shining sun. When Duru became too old to tend to the humble grove properly, Suyun quickly took over. If she was ‘of the water,’ as her father named her, then she would nourish and care for the amra that had sustained her family and the village. Like the waters she knew, she sought to provide; and like her father before her, Suyun became beloved by the village as she extended her hand in kindness and sought to look after everyone.

Often, when the rains graced their lands, Suyun could be found playing and dancing out in the rain, as if saying hello to an old friend.

[autumnslance]

Bearing Sins of the Past Ch 7 Echoes

“I think I’d take the chance, perhaps even move permanently, were I a common man with a family. Get the children far from the war, among the wife’s people.”

“I won’t lie; the thought has occurred to me,” Corran said, and Alberic believed him. “Though I’m surprised, Ser Azure; I’d think one like you would want to keep promising future soldiers for the war in Ishgard.”

Alberic shrugged. “As I said, were I a common man, with a foreign wife who misses her home and children with futures to think of.”

The chronometer in the hall ticked steadily as Corran worked. “Perhaps. Though much as she misses Thavnair, I’d miss Coerthas. I love my home, Ser Azure. There’s little I wouldn’t do to see our homeland prosper.”

Chapter 7 Echoes is now live!

Alberic and X'rhun find Aeryn and Heustienne after their encounter with Avengret. Aeryn wants answers, and unfortunately her Echo is going to ensure she gets them as she experiences a particular day from Alberic's past...

[zahra-kha]

Dear Diary 36

I’ve written in you less and less of late. This makes for less of a chronicle of my life if I don’t write in you diligently doesn’t it? Well, to be honest, I don’t feel like I need to remember every detail of my life. Especially with everything that’s been going on lately.

However, not all of it has been dark spots. Some of it has been grey, some of it has been bright. I’ve been wading myself through uncharted territory and I can’t say I’ve always made the best or correct decisions but I’m also not perfect. 

I wrote in my previous entry that I didn’t know what I was supposed to do now that my troupe was...the way it was. I didn’t know what my purpose was here in Eorzea. If I’m honest with myself, I’m still not entirely sure. I’m frightened, nervous, and there are times when I feel alone. The people who I thought were my support - it’s a mystery if they ever really cared about me (which I’ll get into in a bit) - turned out to be a source of immense pain. I’m trying to recover from that but I wish I could explain to people how difficult that is. How hard it is to trust again when family betrays you.

There’s insecurities there that weren’t before. When I spoke to Sid, I initially told him that it probably wouldn’t make a difference if I left to return home, because everyone had their lives and everyone would eventually move on with their lives. I said that, but I didn’t really mean that. To be honest, I was just scared. It’s easier to leave than to be abandoned, easier to walk away than learn later you were never wanted or needed. Easier to pull away than get rejected.

But my whole life I’ve been running. I walk forward so I can run from something that’s been chasing me. I felt like this time if I moved forward, without looking back on what I’d gained, I’d lose something really precious. And I felt like something in me would break and never recover.

I spoke with Sid for a while at the Bojza camp - it was helpful. I wasn’t looking for answers, I don’t think I was. Maybe just some clarity from my chaotic thoughts. It was easy to talk to him. He was kind and patient with me as I rambled. He didn’t try to push me in any direction, and I was grateful. I wanted to know a bit more about him, I felt maybe he understood a bit of what I was feeling. I thought maybe if I understood him, it’d help guide me to a decision. Was that selfish? Writing that down, it almost sounds as if I was using his feelings and experiences. But I also genuinely wanted to know more about him. I think he’s an interesting person that carries a profound sadness, but it also seems he’s managed to find happiness and a sense of purpose. 

That’s what I want, a sense of purpose again. Sid wondered if maybe what I’m searching for is what I lost - my family. I conceded that maybe that was it. But I’m just so hesitant in calling another group family again after what happened. I spent half my life with those people, and none of it was real. I loved them, but I was just a means to an end for them.

It would break me, shatter me beyond repair, if I fell into that trap again with everyone currently in my life.

I want to, I so badly want to believe and trust in them. They’ve been there for me, they’ve helped me, healed me. Cared for me during this whole ordeal. Hells, they have bled for my sake. And of course, I have not hesitated to jump into the fires for them as well. But that’s completely different from fully giving my heart. I just...can’t. I’m trying, but every time it’s like something cold and hard grabs hold of my throat and claws down, screaming I’m a fool. Fear consumes me, and I feel as if I’m drowning.

For now, I’m just content to be here. Sid helped me organize my thoughts and realize my path lies here. I want to heal here, and be around the friends who have shown me care. I want to relearn how to believe in true bonds again. I want to walk forward and see where the road takes me, and I don’t want to be afraid - I don’t want to do it alone.

That’s what I’ve decided.

I managed to tell Quin (Leo?) a bit of this, I hope I didn’t worry him too much. I was a bit under the weather when the truth came out, I’d been shot on the battlefield and was recovering - but it was a good talk. It’s amazing, when I first met Quin, I don’t think I had a good impression of him, and I don’t think he had any real impression of me. Now I think of him as a silly little brother. 

Speaking of, Quin and Erith got fake married! That was...interesting? I probably should have done more to stop it but it wasn’t official so I didn’t really see the harm. Uh, save for Erith putting Quin at shotgun point. I don’t know, I don’t really like getting between their dynamics because they have a really unique relationship but it’s quite clear they deeply care for one another. So I just go with their antics. Should I though? Am I enabling bad behavior?  [There’s a drawing of a dizzy Zahra along the margins]

I wonder if festivals bring out romance? There were quite a few couples seeking blessings and marriages, so I guess maybe they do? Erith was looking for a husband for Bernon so there was that. I didn’t really know how to feel about it. Not really lonely? Wistful, maybe? I can’t say I’m looking for a profound relationship, but I think having someone to laugh with and share small moments with would be nice.

Maybe...not quite the same as what Erith and Quin have. Being at shotgun point is frightening. I completely understand why Quin started drinking. Heavily.

I’m rambling, but my mind has been all over the place. I’m avoiding talking about what’s really going on in my head because I’m not sure if writing this down, reliving it, will be easy.

I’m talking about my confrontation with Sahrin.

I don’t know what I was expecting when I demanded answers from him. I think I was expecting him to explain why Sai did what she did. I was hoping he’d smile at me and tell me everything was a misunderstanding, or that they’d been acting on their own accord and he hadn’t know anything.

I didn’t mind Gail putting pressure on him - she understands what it means to be a leader, and how hard it can be to have people do things behind your back, and the heavy responsibility that leadership entails.

I also realize what I’d done to him - I appeared out of no where and threatened him into a meeting right after he’d seen everything he’d built up burned to the ground. Of course he was confused, of course he wanted answers. I’d given him nothing. I’m sure he tried to look into it on his own, but he likely didn’t get very far since he’d been gone so long deal with Armand and was unaware of all that’d been going on.

No one is omniscient, but I wasn’t entirely in a caring mood. People I had once cared about deeply had tried to kill me more than once - I was tired.

Father once told me that there are always two sides to a story, and what you know is always just a small part of a whole. He said it’s always good to know and understand the full picture of things, but never let that knowledge influence how the ending needs to be written. And if I can help it, I should always be the one holding the quill to those short chapters in my life.

Sahrin told us about Sai and Esila, and then he told us about the foundation of the troupe and what its original purpose had been. The first troupe they’d all been in - I knew they had worked for the government covertly, doing their bidding under the belief they were serving their nation. Even if it was unpleasant, someone has to do it.

Sahrin and the others felt the troupe wasn’t looking at the real threat - the Empire. And I suppose I can understand their fear. With the way the empire was expanding, the idea that Thavnair would have remained a free nation forever was questionable at best. The Empire wanted to be a world power, once they’d conquered all they’d truly desired, why not take Thavnair too?  Would we had really been able to stop them, if they had truly put their forces to it? 

"We’ll be on their list eventually.” was a legitimate fear. It was one I’d heard on the lips of some nobles and commoners growing up. Not everyone liked the Empire in Thavnair. Not everyone felt the arrangement we had was beneficial. For all the ones who welcomed them for business and trade, there were those who feared them. 

I guess Sahrin had been one of those people. He’d become frustrated with his troupe and decided to form his own. Except he couldn’t be normal about it, no. He took others who had anti-Imperial sentiment and they all decided they were going to bring in children to train and raise them - and by raise I mean brainwash - into perfect anti-Imperial fighting tools.

I cannot express the emotions I went through upon hearing that.

I mean, yes, it’s preferable to bring children into a troupe’s fold because it’s easier to train a dancer when they’re younger, more flexible, and their minds retain things easier, than to start them when they’re much older. I’m going to try and give them the benefit of the doubt and hope that’s what they - no, what Sahrin was thinking when he started this. I don’t want to think of Sahrin as a bad person. There’s just a part of me that refuses to do that.

But I can’t...forgive him for creating the troupe with those intentions. It really doesn’t matter that ‘he grew a conscious’ with me and changed his mind. Congratulations, I guess? Maybe one day when I’m not feeling so angry I’ll send him a cookie for deciding not to be quite the terrible person he could have been.

Okay. I’m feeling petty. And angry. And hurt. But his admission ripped the floor of my reality right out from under me. I admired him, looked up to him - I had wanted to be like him. I had wanted to grow up and eventually be a role model to others because of him. And then to learn all of that had been based on a foundation of lies - that I had initially been nothing more than a tool for his ambitions...

Even if he had changed his mind, clearly the others hadn’t, and that hurts. And he knew that. He’d known and I guess had been trying to change them. But you can’t change people who actively choose to hate - even if they feel their cause is righteous. There is a right way to go about change, and using - hurting - children is not it.

Sahrin helped us decipher some of the letters, and it honestly made a bit more sense when he put them into perspective. It looks like Esila really was trying to sell me out to some guy named ‘Darling’. I don’t know why he wanted me so badly, but apparently, Cecilia was getting traded to Sabe, and I was gonna get sold off in some auction had everything gone well. In exchange, I guess they were going to get their audience with Orhan and incriminate Sahrin. Sahrin guesses this was all to get a connection back to the old troupe.

They wanted a way back to the old troupe so they lied, cheated, and were even willing to kill to do it. The warmth, smiles, all of those good times we had were all fake.

I was at a loss of what to believe in. I felt like an idiot for falling for their schemes for so long. I should have seen it - hadn’t I grown up surrounded by scheming adults? I should have known better by now.

I told Sahrin I never wanted to see him again, and then after that the rest of the night was a bit of a blur. I know everyone came back to my apartment. I served them drinks and sandwiches. I wanted to make sure Quin was okay. Outside of that, I don’t remember much. They left and I remember taking Bitey and  Fènghuáng away. I still haven’t gone back to the kennel to pick them up. 

I went back to my apartment and I just...suddenly I hated everything about it. It reminded me of home, of my troupe -  and everything went white, then red. My heart felt heavy and my eyes burned. I think I screamed. I know I cried. And then I fled. I ran and ran and ran. Until my legs turned to rubber and my lungs screamed and I fell down...somewhere. I didn’t recognize the surroundings. I think I was around a lot of trees and sand. I just know the breeze felt good against my skin, and the grass was cool and comforting. 

I cried, an ugly, gulping, gut wrenching cry - until there wasn’t anything left. And then I sat back against the cliffs and stared up at the sky until the sun rose. I didn’t want to return to the apartment, so I didn’t.

And then the next day I went and dyed my hair black. I need to find some white clothing, to mark the passing of the troupe, my family, and for Esila. The Esila I knew and loved - not the one who wanted to trade me to I guess slavers. The woman I had known to be a good person.

I will mourn her death, because she had lived, and she had brought me joy, even if it had been made of lies.

[umbralsound-xiv]

Prompt #2 - Horizon

Character: Eir Age: 24 Location: Golmore Jungle Outskirts, 1485, Sixth Astral Era Warnings: None

He sucks in a breath, lungs burning as tree and bough became a blur as he broke into a sprint.

No way to know where to go. He'd never been out this far before. And now, he'd never go back again.

"Svangeir...?" His name, called from beneath the bundle in his grasp, muffled with blankets and anything he could grab in the fleeting moment he'd been afforded. He doesn't reply, but he holds it closer, clutching it desperately in his grasp.

He keeps running. Light pours more heavily through the treeline; how long had he been running, now? He'd never known anything but the twist and wind of bark, of tree trunks and boughs and canopy, and the way of life he'd been told he was supposed to live.

"Svangeir? What... What's happening?" She calls again, obscured from view, unable to see anything for the fabric that bound her.

"Shhh---Shh..." Eir calls, it is a quiet, fearful hush. But she listens, and he keeps running.

The trees grow smaller. Thinner. He hears no pursuit, but that doesn't stop the fear from driving him onwards.

No destination. Just... Away.

It's shaky at first. The thread of a horizon he'd never seen, rolling fields and flowers and so, so much light. He's fit to collapse after running, dropping to his knees, settling the bundle down as he hunched to catch his breath.

"What... Happened? I heard voices, and then you bundled me up and ran, and... You ran for malms, Svangeir! What---" A red-haired Miqo'te pushes her way out of the blankets, flinching from the oppressive sun as it caught her golden gaze. A gasp is quietly stolen from her lips. "---You ran..."

On his knees, Eir's gaze is fixed where distant hills meet vibrant blue sky, mottled with clouds. A view he'd only read about in the books he'd been fortunate enough to possess. Away from his home, away from whatever expectations they'd burdened him with. Silver eyes widen, blinking, drinking it all in.

"I... I left..." Came his words, almost unsteady. For a moment he looks terrified, as though he'd turn and bolt back into the woods, but when he pulls his gaze back to her, that thought leaves with the fear, and all he can do is smile.

"...I left. And i am... Not going back."

Now divested of blankets, the woman offers a hum, head tilted.

"So you did. It's lovely out here, isn't it?" She'd known what leaving for him meant, pushing herself up to her feet to move to his side, hand settling on his shoulder.

"...So. Where to next?"

[umbralsound-xiv]

Prompt #8 - Shed

Character: Eir The Outskirts of Golmore, 1485, Sixth Astral Era

"Oh, come on. What's that look for?"

A long, slender index moves to poke into one of Eir's cheeks, which were previously filled with a sigh, causing him to release it in some amusing fashion. He keeps his quiet, side-eyeing the Seeker who grinned at him.

"Come on! You always look like that when you're thinking, Svangeir." The joy quickly flees from her tone for a moment, golden gaze cast towards the horizon. "Are you... Having second thoughts?"

"No." Eir quickly takes another breath, shaking his head. He moves to sit upright, rather than lay on the small slab of stone they'd opted to camp beside. "No, i am not. I am just... Thinking."

"I'd gathered that much." B'nhara's brow lofts, walking around him as she sets a few plums into his hands that she'd just returned from foraging. "What about?"

"My name."

"I like your name." B'nhara sinks her teeth into the plum, humming contentedly. "It's pretty. It sounds quite elegant, you know? Fancy."

"Fancy." Eir echoed. But he says nothing more. The silence between them lingers long enough that B'nhara is finished eating her first plum, and the stone is tossed at Eir to get his attention.

"---Hmn?" It is a small, disgruntled sound full of mild offense, which seems to only bring her grin wider. As an effort not to encourage her behaviour, he forces a sharp frown, turning his head away to hide the smirk that would have surely blossomed otherwise.

"Why are you thinking about your name?" She asks, a little more prying. "We can finally talk freely, and all you've done is keep quiet and stare at the sky!"

"...I did not see the sky too often beneath the trees." Eir remarks, but he opts to indulge her. "...We are supposed to change it. If... We ever left."

"Supposed to." B'nhara snorted. "Well, i was supposed to stay with my Tribe and bear children and everything else expected of me, but here i am, at the other end of the realm speaking with a Viera. Supposed to, you say. Do you want to?"

The very question is enough to loft one of his brows, as though it wasn't something he'd ever thought so much about before. "I... Do not know."

B'nhara offers his same flat stare back. Eir sighs.

"I had not thought on it... Too much." He hesitates a little, glancing to her a little more awkwardly. "You... You said you liked my name...?"

"Well, yeah! But that shouldn't have any basis in your decision. It's your name, after all!" She pauses. "But i do like it. Svangeir. It has a nice ring to it, you know?"

"...What of my... Surname?" Eir asks.

B'nhara blinks. "I... Didn't know you had one."

"Rehw-Nong."

Her shoulders lift into an indifferent shrug, biting into her next plum. "Marginally better than mine. Zhwan. I'm named after my dad. Maybe i should change -my- name." She laughs, though it's a fleeting thing. Eir's face contorts into one of thought.

"...Mine is... For my position. It means worldly ice, in Eorzean." Huffing quietly from his nose, he takes a small bite of a plum. "I like it better in Eorzean, i think."

"So, change it! What would you like to change it to?" She finishes a second plum, and the stone is tossed behind her into the grass. "You don't have to change anything if you don't want to! You're living by your own rules now, Svangeir!"

"I am keeping my first name. Since you like it. I like it."

"You like that i like it? Or you like your name?" B'nhara lofts a teasing brow, to which Eir offers a pout, and in it, her answer.

"I could not think what to call myself otherwise anyway. But i do not... Have that position, now. Not now that i am gone. Worldly ice..." He mutters, brushing his hand across the dirt. "...Frost?"

"Frost is a good name." She offers her opinion, taking another bite of plum.

"But i have... I do not have that, anymore. But it is a good name..." He seems resigned, no longer considering it until B'nhara interjects.

"And you don't, but you can use it anyway! Your rules, remember! You don't have to listen to them anymore! Frost it is!" She chimes, nodding. "Even if you've supposedly fallen from your duties, that doesn't matter anymore! We live by our own rules!"

"Fallen...?" Eir replies, considering.

"Well, i didn't mean it like... It's not a bad thing, right? That's what you wanted!"

"Frost... Fall..."

His quiet muttering seems to have caught her attention, and only then does she realise he's puzzling out a surname.

"...I like it." She praises, but he doesn't seem too convinced.

"But i... Have already... Fallen. That would be if someone... Fell?" Eir asks, a little unsure. B'nhara nods.

"...Frostfell?" He offers, as a suggestion. She seems just as pleased, but he isn't so taken with it.

"...Fellfrost?" Eir asks, head tilting. An ear gives a small twitch, as though the sound somehow pleased him, and that's all it gives for B'nhara to grin again.

"---That one!" She declares, pointing at him. "...Your ears moved. That means you like it, right?"

"...Fellfrost. Svangeir... Fellfrost." He repeats, and seems at least content for it.

"...I think i like it already."

[umbralsound-xiv]

Prompt #26 - Break A Leg

Character: Eir Radz-at-Han, 1511 Sixth Astral Era

He ascends the stage; his expression betraying nothing on his features, to say how his nerves had brought such unease to him only a few moments prior. Silken scarves, long and silver hung from his hips, all the regalia of a seasoned dancer decorating his form.

No one would have guessed it was his first performance.

Face awash with streaks of silver paint that moved even to his chest and legs, he begins the first few graceful motions of the dance; mindful of the others alongside him. He did not dance alone, not for his first time. In all seriousness, this was her idea that he was here at all.

Gold and rubies adorned her form; red hair neatly brushing her shoulders as her tail swished about with her motions, elegant and graceful as she neared him.

Of course, it all went to plan. She had practised with him for bells upon bells, only when they finally reached the crescendo of the performance, a roar of applause and the shrill cry of a thrilled teenage daughter from the nearer faces.

So convenient it had been, that B’nhara’s dance partner had suffered an injury to his leg the sun before. More convenient still, that Eir had been learning the routine in an effort to aid her in practising out of hours.

...Not that he minded. Seeing her smile up to him with those golden yellow eyes was enough to quell any fear he’d ever had.

[umbralsound-xiv]

Prompt #25 - Voyage (Extra Credit)

Character: Eir Yedlihmad, 1495, Sixth Astral Era

His hand in hers, it gave him all the confidence needed to step onto the boat destined for shores new. A toddler curled in his free arm, nestled against his shoulder. For a mercy, she had slept for the majority of the journey, unbothered by the gentle rocking of the vessel.

The vibrant land was already visible from the horizon; even the rock a curious shade of purple in places. The speckle of scattered and towering buildings lofted in a rainbow, as Radz-at-Han perched high ahead.

They had sold everything they could not carry with them. Rabanastre had always been their home, and whilst Eir was content to simply work in whatever way he could at the markets, B’nhara was not. It was her dream; her very reason for leaving Eorzea, to go to Thavnair and learn to dance. This, and the tales of the talented Hannish alchemists that may better aid their daughter, was reason enough to go, despite his hesitation.

Change was never easy for the Viera. A knot settled in his stomach, as the port town of Yedlihmad pulled into view.

What if they could not find work? What if something went wrong? What if they were not welcome?

Lips pulled into a frown, he squeezes B’nhara’s hand a little tighter. But it did not last long, no. Not as he turned his silver eyes to her golden ones, which shone with all the brightness of a sunset. Wide, awestuck and... Happy.

A little newfound resolve sees a smile on his face to match hers. They had lived without fixture before, living from the land, caring not what others thought of them. If should all not work out as planned...

Well, at the very least, he would have her. His daughter.

They would always be more than enough.

[umbralsound-xiv]

Prompt #24 - Vicissitudes

Character: Eir Radz-at-Han, 1547, Sixth Astral Era

The smell of incense floods the room, the wisp of smoke caught in the fading light from the windows. Their home was quieter than it had been a few decades ago, but held no less love.

Eir returns from the kitchen with a cup in each hand; well worn pottery that chipped and flaked at the edges, one of which seemed decidedly tailored for him, if the inscription of ‘papa’ painted on the side had any indication, long wethered from the ages. It had been repaired at least twice.

He settles a cup beside the woman who occupied the sofa, sprawled with her feet in front of her as she hesitantly tapped at a page with quill. Ears much too long to be a Miqo���te, and much too short to be a Viera, widened eyes peer through the darkness with ease as she pens a few more words within a half-finished book.

“Is that still the same book, or another one, Lili?” Eir asks, as he settles himself on an armchair closest to the window, to make the most of the dying light. A book lay pages down on the armrest, which he plucks up to continue reading.

“...A different one. I thought of a good idea for the next chapter, i’m just having trouble wording it.” She reaches for her chai, and takes a small sip. “...It’ll come to me.”

“I am sure it will.” Eir hums with a small measure of pride, slowly tuning a page. “...Is it a happy book, or a sad one?” He asks, briefly glancing up.

“Sad.” Lilya hummed, seemingly content with her answer. “Happy books are harder to write. But i’ll get there with that one too.” She smiled, even as his brow furrowed a little.

“Another sad story?”

“Sad stories sell better. Sad stories also make better dances...” She murmurs, dipping her quill into the inkpot again.

“...I suppose they do.” Eir mumurs, returning his gaze to the decidedly more lighthearted fiction. “...I prefer the happier tales.”

She gives a short huff of amusement. “I know, Pa. I’ll finish it... Right after this one.” A smile takes her lips, which slowly knits into a frown, as a hand shoots up to press to her temple.

A splotch of red mingles with the blank ink of the words, as she gives an audiable groan of pain.

“Lilya?”

Eir’s spoke her name with all the weight of a concerned Father, swiftly abandoning his book to set it back on the armchair. He moves to grab a small cloth and offers it to his daughter, who takes it to stem the trickle of blood from her nose.

“It... It’s okay.” She reassured, nodding, swinging her legs around to find her feet over the edge of the sofa. “It’s just a headache. We’ll go pick up my medicine tomorrow.”

That pointed frown on Eir’s features doesn’t leave for a moment. As she stands, he wraps his arms around her, smoothing a hand over silvery hair and oversized ears. “...No. You stay here and rest, Lili. I will go fetch it in the morning.” He presses a kiss to the crown of her head, sighing as he released her to look over her. The stream of red had stilled, some, but it wasn’t enough to settle him.

“…Papa…” Lilya presses her cheek against him for a moment in a brief embrace before pulling away. Her concern sounded more for him, than it did for herself, peering up owlishly with pale yellow eyes to meet the silvery ones of his own. Filling her lungs to speak again, no word manages to leave, quickly smothered by a hoarse coughing.

“Lilya...” Eir trails, tracing fingertips through her hair, blood clinging to her chin where she had failed to catch it. Even if she fights to give him a smile.

“It’ll… I’ll be okay. I just… Need some rest, i think.” Lilya’s hand reaches to pat at his own, before she moves back a few paces to the doorway. “Sleep well when you go, okay? We’ll go out in the morning.”

Giving a resigned sigh, Eir lowers his head into a quiet nod, moving back to take his seat in the armchair. “...In the morning, then.” He reluctantly agrees to the compromise, features still writ with concern. “Rest well, Lilya. I will come wake you when it is time to go, okay?”

She nods, smiling faintly over her shoulder.

“…I love you, Papa.”

“I love you too, Lili. Goodnight.”

Her footfalls fade away in the direction of her room, a small sigh leaving his lips as his gaze settled on the still steaming cup of chai on the table, before reaching for his own.

---

He had been awake for a short while. Breakfast made and eaten, he had left a slice for his daughter in the rare event she wished to eat something; a thick slice of bread slathered with vibrant jam. They would get more of it when they went to the market, he thought. The bell drew closer, and with no footsteps heard from her chambers, he saught to wake her.

“Are you awake?” He calls through the curtain to her room, on the off chance he’d not heard her. But there is no response. Frowning, he pushes the fabric aside, to enter.

“Lilya?”

She remains in her bed. Turned away to the wall, only the cascade of silver hair poured over her pillow, too-long ears remaining stationary, his call unheard. Blankets curled around her form even in Thavnair’s damnable heat; she was always too cold, no matter the season.

Eir’s breath hitches in his throat. Hesitant, fearful footsteps are punctuated by wooden floorboards, as he drew closer towards her, a hand outstretched in an effort to wake her.

“Lili?”

As his fingertips met her shoulder, he found his answer.

Grief bubbles up like a well, hands shaking in disbelief as he falls to his knees. A gentle shake, followed by a more insistant one, his chest tightening as a sob breaks free of his lips.

“No... No no no... Please, no...”

He begged. He begged to any God that would hear him. But there was never a reply.

“Please... Wake up? We have to go. We have to go get your medicine...” He sobbed, as tears rolled down his cheeks. “Lili...?”

His tone stung with grief. Slowly, he rolls her towards him, cradling her in his arms as he wept into the mass of silvery hair he himself had blessed her with.

“Lili, please!” A fitful wail is sung from his throat, his entire form shaking with uncontainable anguish. Hands ball into the blankets, desperately rocking her motionless form against himself. “Please, wake up! Please...”

A fought sob, as he looked upon her face. She looked like she was sleeping. Peaceful. Were it not for the absence of movement or breath, none would have known.

“I... I do not... W-want to be alone...” He whispered.

But it didn’t matter.

He spoke aloud, and for the first time in more than fifty cycles, there was no one left to hear him.

Whether he wanted to or not, there was little choice in the matter. He always knew he would outlive her. Always.

Such was the curse of a life long lived.

...Once again, he was alone.

[umbralsound-xiv]

Prompt #21 - Solution

Character: Eir Radz-at-Han, 1496, Sixth Astral Era

It wasn’t an uncommon sight in the city anymore. Not for the blur of coppery silver that bolted it’s way though the streets of Radz-at-Han, apologies uttered at every pass as he lept and vaulted over, taking a flight of stairs four steps at a time as he bolted his maddened pace through the colourful streets.

His footfalls finally come to a slow outside a small, unassuming house. Three birds carved into the wood of the door marked who lived here; A swan, a swallow, and a sparrow. Without hesitation, he enters, closing the door behind him gently.

“Nara?” He calls out; not too loud. But there is no response. He moves through the small house to a little bedroom at the back, pulling aside a curtain in the doorway to enter.

“Papa...?” A little voice calls from the bed. A little girl no older than four summers, silvery hair and ears a little too long for a Miqo’te lays in a bed, propped up by a number of colourful pillows, a book in her hands. Her mother curls into the corner beside her, golden eyes flicking upwards.

“You’re home, Svan. Did you... Get the medicine?” Her question comes with a concern that sits plainly on her features, each word fought not to waver with too much worry for fear of upsetting their daughter.

“I did. It was ready when i arrived.” Eir opens the small satchel at his side, and pulls out a single glass bottle; the markings of the High Crucible of Al-Kimiya plainly on the side. The contents were a shade of teal-green, a thick mixture that clung to the side of the container. He offers a warm smile to the two of them, settling his gaze on his daughter who eyes the mixture with a frown.

“Oh, do not give me that face!” Eir gives a short chuckle despite the situation, moving to his knees beside her, resting his head against her to eye the book she had chosen to read. “...It will make you feel better, Lilya.”

“It will taste gross...” She poked her tongue out, scrunching up her face. 

“It... Will.” B’nhara admits, combing her fingers through the younger one’s hair. “But that’s how we know it’s working, hm? Don’t you remember how much better you felt afterwards? We could even go to the beach, if you’d like?”

“You could even watch your mother dance...” Eir encourages, peering up towards her. Her eyes seem to light up as they meet his.

“Can i!?”

“You can!” Eir confirms, B’nhara giving a small smile in response to affirm his words.

Lilya, however, still seems a little dubious about the liquid.

“...It’s still gonna taste gross.”

“It tastes... Like healing is supposed to.” Eir hesitates, still making some attempt to encourage her.

“Like hamsa breath?” Lilya makes a face at the bottle, B’nhara snickering at her words.

“...Well, maybe hamsa breath is the secret ingredient!” Eir teases. “So it makes you run around as fast as they do!”

“As fast as you, Papa?”

“Well... Almost...” Eir grins. “...If you take your medicine, we might find out!” He offers the bottle to her, the glass stopper removed. She scrunches her face up again at the smell, frowning... Before she gives a little murmur of thought.

“...Papa?”

“Yes, Lilya?”

“If i take my medicine... Will you read me a story?”

“Oh, Lilya... You do not have to take your medicine for me to read you a story.” He moves up from his knees, to perch on the edge of the bed. “But i will, yes.”

She brings the bottle towards her lips, hesitating for a moment.

“...And you’ll do the voices?”

Eir looks to her. And then up to B’nhara, who is trying her best not to laugh at her daughter’s attempts at persuasion. She grins.

“...She does like it when you do the voices, Svangeir. She was telling me just before you came in.”

“Yes... I will even do the voices.” Eir sighs quietly, even if his lips curl into a grin; which prompts Lilya to drain the entire bottle, even if she fights to not gag from the last few gulps.

“Okay! I drank it!” She proclaims, even if her face is one of conflicting joy and absolute disgust from the taste. “Can we read now?”

Eir shuffles his legs onto the side of the bed, and plucks up his daughter to sit on his lap, pulling B’nhara close with the other arm, whilst she held the book. “Of course we can.” He settles a kiss to the crown of her hair, and another to B’nhara, who smiles in return.

“What would you like me to read you?”

[umbralsound-xiv]

Prompt #1 - Cross

Character: Eir Radz-at-Han; 1497, Sixth Astral Era

The scent was unmistakable. Warm, fragrant spices permiated the air of the small, unassuming kitchen. Bowls of spiced vegetables; finely diced potatoes boiled until soft and seasoned until a vibrant yellow. Peas plucked from their pods and simmered, but sweet. Offcuts of pastry littered the worktop, flour leaving a thin mist through the air as it caught through the evening sunbeams that poured through the window.

And the sound. The sound of crisp, thin pastry between teeth, as the triangular morsel was snatched up and bitten into.

“SVANGEIR FELLFROST! Just what do you think you are doing?!”

Eir stares sidelong towards the doorway. Teeth half-sunk into a samosa, his eyes move across the kitchen to land on those of his wife, which accusatorily narrow in his direction.

“I... was just... Sampling them!” Eir confesses. Another crackle of pastry, and B’nhara’s ear twitches.

“You have sampled five of them already!”

“Only four!”

“Five when you’ve finished that one! I will have nothing left to share with our neighbours by the time you’ve had your fill!”

She watches, as all three corners eventually vanish beyond the Viera’s lips, her tail flicking at her heels. A small, annoyed huff, as she made her way around the table, little paper boxes in her hand intended to recieve the pastries to be given as gifts.

“...They are good, Nara. The best yet.” He rests his head against hers, arms laced over her shoulder as she worked. She doesn’t seem to mind for it, bringing a small smile to her lips despite her mild annoyance.

“You said that last time, Svan.” 

“I meant it then, too. These are much less spicy. More crisp. The pastry is perfect!”

“Mm...” B’nhara herself, however, doesn’t seem convinced. The lid on one box is closed, tied with a purple ribbon. She adjusts it, but it still doesn’t look to her liking, sighing in futility. Eir reaches over and unties the bow, before retying it to something more appealing, which rewards him with a small kiss to the bottom of his jaw.

“...They are pretty, too. Anyone should be happy to recieve a box of samosa from you, Nara. I would be.”

“You’re a little biased, love.”

She laughs, and Eir grins at the truth in her words. She busies herself filling boxes, six samosas to each, as Eir busies himself with tying neat ribbons around each of them.

A sigh, then. Six boxes sat uniformly on the worktop, as B’nhara pulls away to admire their work, brushing her hands over the apron at her hip.

“...I’ll see these delivered tomorrow morning when i go to the market. Do you want me to bring you anything, love?”

There’s no response.

...Besides the crackle of pastry.

“SVANGEIR!”

“---There were five left!” He reasons, through a mouthful of samosa. “They would not have fit in a box, it would have been uneven!”

B’nhara’s head turns, crimson locks well framing the look of exasperation on her features. She walks a few heavy, plodding steps towards Eir as an ear sharply flicks atop her head. “Lilya will want one when she wakes. And i will have three with lunch, tomorrow.” Her words are sharp, brimming with annoyance which only curls into amusement as Eir shovels down the snack as fast as possible with her approach in the event she attempted to remove it from him.

“...Which means that one is for...”

“---Yes, for you. For tomorrow.”

“It is nearly tomorrow.” Eir responds, a little too pleased with his observation. Regardless, he moves to the sink, beginning to pluck up and gather the bowls in need of washing. Judging by B’nhara’s expression, this is a worthy apology.

“Suppose it is.” B’nhara sighs. She fights a yawn, but doesn’t quite manage to best it. She tiredly makes way to the sink, before he gently stops her.

“...I will take care of the kitchen. Get yourself to bed, hm? I will be with you soon.”

Her lips are soon felt on the back of his shoulder, before the two exchange kisses and she leaves for bed, where he joins her a short while later.

[umbralsound-xiv]

Prompt #29 - Fuse

Character: Eir Dalmasca, 1486, Sixth Astral Era

“There you are...” Her breath catches, a gasp of relief and annoyance both moves from her lips. B’nhara’s hair catches in the dying light of the sun, making it look more red than it ever had done. Her quarry; a Viera, settled by the campfire he’d made beneath the bough of a tree. Immediately, he pulls up to his feet, ready to bolt.

“Don’t you dare, Svangeir!”

And at her words, he stops in his tracks; silvery eyes wide with fear. Her tone laced with fury, he cannot meet her gaze, looking away as he rocked uncomfortably on his feet.

“Two suns! Two suns, it has taken for me to find you!”

She takes a few steps towards him, and he has still yet to give her a verbal answer. He continues to keep his head lowered, bracing himself as she moves within arms reach, a hand of hers raised... Which comes to settle on the side of his cheek.

“...Svangeir...” B’nhara sighs, noticing as the tension had not left him even an ilm. “...Why did you run?”

He manages only a shaky inhale, silvery eyes moving to her golden ones, lips parting before no words manage to leave in any timely fashion. But she is patient, looking upon him only with worry.

“I... Kissed you.” He eventually manages.

“...You did.” She confirms. “...And i kissed you back. I’m not unhappy for it, Svangeir...”

He falls into his customary silence again.

“...That doesn’t explain why you ran. For two whole suns...” She hesitates, pulling her hand back a little. “...If it’s not what you want, i’m not going to force it.” Her words are the only thing that causes her to glance aside, a small, resigned sigh from her lips...

Before the panic sets in. Eir reaches to pull her close, an arm around her back that sets her against him in the awkward and hasty moment.

“N-no!”

“...No?”

His heart races, and still his words do not make it so easily from him. He takes a breath, and in his absence of words... Leans in to press his lips against hers once again.

...Which she, of course, returns. She offers a smile against him at the motion, which lingers for longer than it had the first time... Before he pulls away, almost completely. Or at least, he would have done, had B’nhara’s arms curled around him to prevent it.

“I... I am s-sorry--!” He stammers, an awkward step backwards which takes B’nhara with him, admonishing glare and all.

“Don’t you dare!” She warns, and pulls him a little closer. The race of his heart can be felt against hers, as she gently combs her fingers through his hair to calm him. “...You've nothing to be bloody sorry for, Svangeir.”

Quiet, then. Before he finally calms enough to speak, head pressed against her hair.

“...I was... Afraid.” He admits, arms wrapped around her. His legs finally give out and he moves to sitting, holding her against him in the moment. “...That... You do not feel the same.” His head is, notably, turned away from hers. But she can hear it; in the waver of his voice, and the way his chest hitches at the end of his words.

A comforting hand is settled against his shoulder, which only serves for him to draw her closer. Her tone is softer, then.

“...And how do you feel?” She asks, head tilted up. She hadn’t expected an immediate answer, knowing him as well as she did. But he was still capable of surprising her.

“...I... Th-think...” He swallows a small, quiet lump that had crawled it’s way up his throat. “...I... Am in love with you.” Almost ashamed of his words, he buries his head further into her hair, against her shoulder. “I... I do not know. I... I have only read about it in books...”

His words bring colour to her cheeks, and a warm smile to her lips. She releases him, if only to reach for the bottom of his chin, tilting his head up to better see her. His cheeks were wet with tears, even if not so many, gently brushing them away with her thumb.

“...I think so too.” She whispers, looking to him. “...Is... That why you were afraid?”

He gives a small nod. “...I was afraid you would... Go. That i would not see you again.” Eir’s voice is quiet as he responds, arms pulling her a little tighter.

“...Svangeir...” B’nhara hushes, gazing over him quietly. Her fingers weave between the locks of his hair, pulling them back a little so she can better see his face. “I understand you, but... I’m not going anywhere.” She gives a small pause, offering the warm smile she often did. “...Least of all because of you. And not because you left the jungle, or fed me and kept me warm for the last however long. Although i do appreciate it...”

He continues to stare, drinking in her every word, muted with a breath he didn’t know he was holding, waiting for her to continue.

“...I love you, Svangeir.”

Her words release the breath in his lungs, as he pulls her close against him with relief and joy both.

“You... You will not be leaving?” He asks, as though to confirm it. Her response is a small, affectionate chuckle.

“No. Well... Not anywhere you can’t follow, anyway.” She beams, tilting her head up as her eyes met with his.

Eir gives a slow nod, fighting the disbelief at his features. “I...” He hesitates, eyes flicking from hers, to her lips. “...Can i... Kiss you?” He asks, swallowing his nerves.

“...Only if you promise not to run away from me again.” B’nhara laughs. The sound finally brings Eir’s lips into a smile, before he meets them shortly to hers a moment later.

[autumnslance]

LynMars’s FFXIV Write 2022 Master Post

Writings completed for this year’s daily challenge. As usual any of my ship-related content is marked with an asterisk (*) to seek or avoid as needed.

The goal this year was to write less than I have in previous years; to allow myself shorter scenes and not push myself on free days. To actually relax, have fun, and not stress about writing “enough”. To make my prose just as long as it needed to be.

Overall, I succeeded in said goals.

Breakdowns and commentary under the cut for those interested!

1. Cross - Two travelers’ journey over time & adventuring together. 2. Bolt - Iyna doing her duty as a rebel versus the Empire. 3. Temper - Midgardsormr keeps a promise to forge a hero. 4. Free Day! 5. Cutting Corners - Dark Autumn after a company officer meeting. 6. Onerous - Thancred & the Immortal Flames, post-Ifrit. 7. Pawn - Emelia obtains passage for her family to Thavnair. 8. Tepid - Zaine realizing he doesn’t belong with the Radiant Host. 9. Yawn - Aeryn escaping the Bloody Banquet through the tunnel. 10. Channel - C’oretta’s thought processes. 11. Free Day! 12. Miss the Boat - Urianger, Moenbryda, and regrets. 13. Confluence - Venat tracing the flow of fate. 14. Attrition - Ser Ompagne has a brief theological discussion. 15. Row - Dark versus a certain baby behemoth. 16. Deiform - Dark, Aeryn, Iyna, & C’oretta in Delubrum Reginae. 17. Novel* - Aeryn, Thancred, & a borrowed book over time. 18. Free Day - Memory* - Aeryn & Thancred discuss his possession. 19. Turn a Blind Eye - Lahabrea contemplates his mistakes. 20. Anon - Ryne learning two opposing definitions of the word. 21. Solution - 2 Azems discuss the plans for the Final Days. 22. Veracity - In a possible future, Iyna ensures history’s truth. 23. Pitch* - Thancred knows how to distract Aeryn when necessary. 24. Vicissitudes - Ascian viewpoints on their stolen mortal bodies. 25. Free Day! 26. Break a Leg - Iyna & C’oretta help the dancers at a recital. 27. Hail - An Estinien PoV of the final fight in the Aitiascope. 28. Vainglory - The Warrior of Light isn’t what Jullus expected. 29. Fuse - Tanzel thinks of ways to handle his stepchild’s temper. 30. Sojourn - A family of travelers, in 1 lifetime & perspective.

Totals: 18,813 words.

A bit more than my 2018 (around 16k), less than my 2019 (21.4K), and way less than 2020 and 2021. I was realistic about my time and energy, asked myself what is the core idea or scene I really want to get across, and any spot-editing was for tightening wording and phrases. I feel like it got harder to keep writing shorter as the month went on and my focus slipped--and I really got into a writing groove!

I could have definitely gone on longer for some of these, and do have other scene ideas and notes in the drafts. But for the 24 hour challenge I tried to keep them short, though they’re each as long as they need to be.

I did mean to put out old WIPs again on free days, but that time/energy factor combined with busy weekends, so I took them off. "Memory" actually came out of "Yawn" and was plinked at over the week before it went up for the 18th.

Only a couple wolcred fics this year; got in a good mix of NPCs and OCs, with Iyna taking a bit more of a POV spotlight in the non-Aeryn-focused stories, though all the girls got at least one. More Ancients and Ascians than I generally go with, though still made sure some favorite Scions got in there. And a bit more of Aeryn's family and backstory, as getting Thavnair finally has put that forefront in my brain.

I was hoping something would spark an idea for an Avengret chapter I feel is "missing" but I may have to resign myself to the fact that chapter doesn't want to be written as I continue revising last year's unexpected longfic. Thankfully this year's prompts were all standalones.

More Breakdowns:

Longest: 17 Novel, 2073. Shortest: 15 Row, 220.

Between 1500 - 2000: 24 Vicissitudes (1522), 29 Fuse (1678) Between 1000 - 1499: 18 Memory (1034) Between 500 - 999: 3 Temper (537), 8 Tepid (500), 10 Channel (586), 12 Miss the Boat (824), 13 Confluence (702), 14 Attrition (683), 20 Anon (839), 21 Solution (532), 22 Veracity (857), 28 Vainglory (864), 30 Sojourn (989) Between 200 - 499: 1 Cross (386), 2 Bolt (299), 5 Cutting Corners (445), 6 Onerous (488), 7 Pawn (300), 9 Yawn (375), 15 Row (220), 16 Deiform (375), 19 Turn a Blind Eye (277), 23 Pitch (481), 26 Break a Leg (462), 27 Hail (485)

General WoL: 1 Cross, 3 Temper, 13 Confluence, 22 Veracity I tend to default to feminine pronouns when writing Generic Default WoL.

WoL Aeryn (as an adult): 6 Onerous, 9 Yawn, 16 Deiform, 17 Novel, 18 Memory, 23 Pitch, 27 Hail, 28 Vainglory, 30 Sojourn

Wolcred: 17 Novel, 18 Memory, 23 Pitch.

Child Aeryn: 7 Pawn, 29 Fuse

Aeryn’s Family: 7 Pawn, 8 Tepid, 29 Fuse, 30 Sojourn

Other OCs: 2 Bolt (Iyna), 5 Cutting Corners (Dark), 10 Channel (C'oretta), 15 Row (Dark & Violet), 16 Deiform (Iyna, Dark, C'oretta, Aeryn), 21 Solution (Pandora), 22 Veracity (Iyna), 26 Break a Leg (Iyna & C'oretta)

Ancients & Ascians: 13 Confluence (Venat), 19 Turn a Blind Eye (Lahabrea), 21 Solution (Venat), 24 Vicissitudes (Lahabrea & Emet-Selch)

Other NPCs: 3 Temper (Midgardsormr), 12 Miss the Boat (Urianger, Moenbryda, Louisoix), 14 Attrition (Ser Ompagne), 20 Anon (Ryne, Ran’jit, Thancred), 27 Hail (Estinien, other Scions)

[autumnslance]

Ao3 Writings as of August 2024

Summary list of my FFXIV fics on Ao3 under LynMars79, organized by Series. For compilation threads, tables of content and chapter summary notes will have timeframes and any content warnings.

Pieces of FFXIV Write 2017 are on Ao3; the original list can be found Here. FFXIV Write 2021 forward are scattered across my Ao3; the original lists can be found Here and Here.

General Warrior of Light

Ruminations: Canon-spanning blurbs for a WoL. Savior: Heavensward. Short, 2nd person PoV, thoughts in the immediate aftermath of the Final Steps of Faith (Nidhogg). What to Do: Stormblood. WoL considers an old conversation, the events in Doma, & takes Nashu up on an investigation. Contravention: Endwalker. A Warrior of Light goes through the horror of "In from the Cold".

Warrior of Light - Aeryn Striker

Unexpected: Thancred & Aeryn canon-spanning ship thread prt 1. Despite the Gods We've Outlived: Ship stories thread prt 2. Living Memory: A thread for various prompts, microfics, etc. Slices of Light: A thread for various OCs supporting this WoL. When Everything Changes: Backstory from Zaine’s child POV. Where the Skies Are Safe: Backstory, Zaine child POV, Strikers in Thavnair. A Good Girl: A chocobo, the 7th Calamity, & her Warriors of Light. That Night in the Rose House: Heavensward. Aeryn & Haurchefant after Bismark's reveal. One Small Favor: After Stormblood's Dragoon quests, Aeryn wants Estinien to do 1 simple thing. See Notes. Teach a Warrior of Light to Fish: Shadowbringers. Ardbert, Renda-Rae, friendship, & fishing. Return to Dreams of Ice: Shadowbringers. Aeryn, Ysayle, Ryne, & Eden’s Verse: Refulgence. Emotions are difficult. Bearing Sins of the Past: Shadowbringers. A Striker family secret that Alberic's long kept leads Aeryn to a draconic foe. Return from the End: Endwalker. Aeryn at the edge of creation. Desert Divergence: AU; What If Zaine lived, what's the impact on a key moment in Shadowbringers, & for Aeryn & Thancred? The Prophet's Bond: Endwalker. Amaurotine prophet Icarus is determined to help his (in)famous sibling, Azem.

Lyn's Prompts Lists

Striking Fate: Prompt Responses for a 30 Day Challenge. Dreams of Light: FFXIV Write 2018: Daily prompt responses. Dreams of Shadows: FFXIV Write 2019: Daily prompt responses. Dreams of Home: FFXIV Write 2020: Daily prompt responses.

That Damn Rogue - Thancred Waters

Rogue’s Prelude: How Thancred met Louisoix (& 2 future Scions). Written a year prior to his official “Tales from the Shadows” story. Chin Up: Young Thancred & Yda have a talk in the Sharlayan Colony. A Constant Distant Thunder: ARR. Thancred’s post-possession recovery, up to the Sylphlands events. Walk in the Wilds: Heavensward. Thancred’s time in the wilds of Dravania. Younger Sister: Stormblood. Thancred’s PoV on the Hext sisters, particularly Lyse. Aetherology and Skulking Boots: Canon-spanning thread for Y’shtola & Thancred’s friendship. Petrichor: Shadowbringers. Thancred, Minfilia, & acceptance of fate. Fathers Sons and Brothers: For the Thancred Anthology fanzine; Thancred & Fourchenault talk in the late Endwalker patches.

Souls Rising Surface-Ways

Opening the Blind Eye: Lahabrea's contemplation post-Abyssos. Non-Solution: Azem finds Venat is already aware of the Convocation's plans. Vicissitudes: Emet-Selch & Lahabrea have different approaches to their mortal hosts. Pre- to Early- ARR. The Last of Us: After aiding the Warrior of Light, Elidibus gets one last conversation with an old friend. Endwalker MSQ.

Tales of the Seventh Era - Various NPCs

There's too many to post here now, but there's a little for everyone in various styles; Scions, Ironworks, Eorzeans, Imperials, Ascians; allies, enemies, and others in between. Ranging from only a couple hundred words to a few thousand, mostly standalones. The few chaptered fics are very specific characters, instances and/or timeframes following tight themes, two in loose storyarcs for the involved characters. Mostly Gen Fic, with one darker/naughtier tone (thanks, Zenos).

I am thankful for the support, prompts and comments, and your own stories; you’ve all helped and inspired me.