#Couerl

[landshorizon]

SHE TEEFS

[nothingxs]

Favorite Minion

Black Couerl Kitten. Because I have a black cat, Celicash has a black cat. They have the same name, sort of—the in-character one is named Moña.

"Is this just your self-insert?" You shut up.

...here, have a bonus Mona!

[southshrouded]

Ravenous

building up my new character, a researcher who would do a lot of things to prove her hypothesis

welcome, Kurt Couerlbane!

[laladventures]

Atrum being mentored on the ways of the Coeurl with Sayuri Yatsurugi the Golden Coeurlfist !

[lesenbyan]

I named an FC Fen'Harel Enansal and everything, you'd think i'd've made Briala in FFXIV

[lynbeck]

Kitty

[kyogreblue21]

cute art!! makes me wonder when null magical girl will be added to magireco

霧羽こさね

[valkariel]

Fat Cat's Joy

Cork brown, qiqirn brown, acorn brown, couerl yellow, halatali yellow etc are all not exact matches to the fat cat orange spots. Depending on how tinted the gear's texture is will affect the final shade per piece, so it's worth trying out a few. These are the ones I found to work the best with these gear pieces, while taking into account general color balance from the front view. I think the disparity is more prominent when looking from the back with the cat tail against the trim of the socks…

Would match with the Fat Cat Earrings if you have them :>

Head: Wintertide Trapper's Hat - coeurl yellow / default Body: Fat Cat Loungewear - default / default Hands: -- Legs: Spriggan Bottoms - bone white / cork brown Feet: Tonberry Boots - cork brown / snow white

Alt Legs: Tights of Eternal Passion - cork brown / snow white

Earring: The Emperor's New Earrings | Fat Cat Earrings Neck: Rainbow Ribbon of Slaying Wrists: The Emperor's New Bracelet Right Ring: The Emperor's New Ring Left Ring: The Emperor's New Ring

Main Hand: Figment of Kittens' Joy - bone white / qiqirn brown Off Hand: --

Fashion Accessory: -- Minion: Fat Cat Mount: -- Location: Kozama'uka - Earthenshire

Shader: Faeberry Bloom

[mimble-sparklepudding]

I was going through an NPC list to find a suitably cursed gentleman and honestly, a lot of the time I wound up thinking 'Humble would be good for them, though'. B u t t h e n Nhaza'a Jaab appeared.

Oh dear yes, Humble really hates that guy... The fact that he looks conflictingly attractive in skimpy couerl-print briefs just frustrates him more. So he would definitely hit that... with an axe. Repeatedly.

[asleepinawell]

double pulling on tank!hades in ktisis is so funny to me. like. here’s hades who has been sent on a mission that involves socializing and his emotional support extrovert bf he brought along keeps trolling him (don’t know what he expected) and then he finds out everyone he knows is fated to die horrible deaths and he’ll be left all alone to go insane and evil and commit atrocities and ultimately fail

plus he has venat looking over his shoulder like a critical mother-in-law and the guy he was sent there to interview is trying to unleash his death bird on the universe. things could be going better

and then some idiot kid who’s possibly the soul descendant of his other troll bestie is running across ktisis with a pack of feral couerl chasing them like hewwo mr selch help me pwease! he is so Tired

[drabblesandimagines]

Breathless

Clive Rosfield x female reader Angsty, one swear word, description of panic attack, minor game spoilers?

Inspired by this request.

It has been a trying, upsetting week. Not once, but twice had your unit of Cursebreakers arrived too late in order to free some overworked Bearers. Masters have been working them harder since the crystal magicks have started to falter, depending on their source. You knew you were spread too thin – it was always going to be by a couerl’s whisker if you made it there in time. It still hurts, though, to find the petrified bodies, gathering up their remains to perform another solemn casting in the hope that at last they will have found peace.

You’re exhausted, overworked – by your own hand, you know – and to come back without anything to show for it is so discouraging.

You know you should think of all the successful missions, the ones where the boat had come back filled with Bearers who would be safe for the first time in their lives at the Hideaway, but the failure weighs heavily on your mind. Reporting back to Dorys that, no, you weren’t fast enough, you weren’t good enough…

You shake your head, as if you could physically shake the negative thoughts from your mind. You need a hot meal and a decent sleep – one that wasn’t a short nap on the ground, never allowing yourself to sleep too deeply as you needed to be ready to move at a moment – and to be embraced in a certain Fire Dominant’s arms.

As the Cid of the new Hideaway, Clive is a very busy man. He’s often being pulled in multiple directions with various requests. You both had your own missions too and rarely did the two coincide in nature, but that’s the way your relationship had always been. There’s always been something between the two of you, the spark kindled into a steady flame throughout the past few years, culminating in a passionate liaison under a moonlit sky. The time apart always made the moments you had together all the more special, like no time had passed at all as he held you tight in his arms in his bed at night, when you kissed him as if you needed him to breathe, nipping your teeth lightly on his neck to coax a moan from Lord Rosfield’s lips.

Or other nights when you’d sobbed in his arms – for those you’d lost, the injustices you’d witnessed and he’d whisper soft reassurances in your ear, promising the dawn would come.

The world is wearing you down and he is like a tincture for your soul.

Dorys must’ve been keeping an eye out for the skiff because she is waiting for you as the lift opens up on the boarding deck. She casts a questioning eye over the group who stands behind you, obviously looking for Bearers.

You shake your head, sadly, before she can question aloud.

“You did your best, all of you. Any injuries?” A couple in the group nod and are promptly sent off to the infirmary. Dorys gives you a hard stare as you stay put.

“I’m fine, honestly. Nothing to trouble Tarja with.”

“Then get some food and sleep – we’ll debrief in the morning.”

“Thanks, Dorys.” You cast a glance up at the balcony outside Clive’s chambers but your captain easily catches it.

“You’ll be pleased to know he’s home, I’m sure,” Dorys teases.

--

The ale hall is deserted due to the late hour but as you climb the stairs up to Clive’s chambers, there are noises from within. A light feminine laugh, accompanied by Clive’s deep chuckle and it makes you stop right outside the door. It seems impossible for anything to be funny at the moment, but another intrusive thought comes to mind - when was the last time you’d even heard Clive laugh in your presence?

There’s a bit of warped wood that needs tending to, but no-where near on the list of priorities. If you angle yourself just so, you can see through the crack. Jill and Clive are sat on the bench he keeps in his chambers, wine goblets in front of them, candles flickering throughout the room. It looks romantic. He has his body turned to the door, but you can see Jill is leaning towards him, her hand on his thigh.

You can’t hear what they’re saying – their voices too low for that – but Jill leans forward then and you step back, not wanting to see what happens next. Your heart pounds – you’re tired, you know you’re so tired and upset and a failure and your mind spirals.

Clive is a lord and Jill is a lady – a proper lady – raised in the courts and beautiful and charming and sweet. You don’t dress as fine as she, your hair never sits as pretty, you’re incapable of holding yourself with the same grace she does. You’re coarse, you only learned your letters in the last few years of Hideaway living, struggling somewhat as you don’t practice as much as you should. There had been a handful of nights where Clive would lie besides you patiently as you tried to read aloud a couples of passages from a children’s storybook, for Founder’s sake. Jill could write and read fluently, a dab hand at needlework too…

Of course they belong with each other. They will always have a connection that you won’t, of a shared childhood. They’re Dominants and they spend so much time together, they’re a perfect couple and you’ve been deluding yourself that you could’ve ever had kept hold of his heart in the way you did.

Your chest feels tight. You need to get out of here.

There’s movement from behind the door then and you hurry down the stairs, pressing yourself into the corner, being obscured by the shadows. The door to the chambers open and Jill departs.

“Thank you, Jill, for everything.”

She presses a kiss to his cheek and bids him goodnight, walking down the stairs and heading out via the boarding deck to head down to her room. The door to the chambers closes and you sink down against the wall, cuddling your knees.

Why does your chest hurt so?

You don’t know how long you sit there, eventually clambering back up to your own feet, leaning heavily on the wall, and taking the long way back to your bunk through the forge and up via the atrium and across the bridge, thankfully not meeting anyone on your journey as you crawl into bed.

--

You don’t sleep well, if at all. Your mind whirling with thoughts of Clive and Jill – what had he meant when he had thanked her? Clive is the sweetest man. He’d never want to hurt you, even at the cost of his own heart, but loving someone is letting them go, isn’t it?

You give up on sleep just before dawn, heading up to the mess where you find Dorys, mulling over reports at one of the tables. She smiles, sadly, at the sorry sight of you.

“I did not mean for you to be up with the sun to hand in your report.”

“I just want it over with. There’s not much to report. We failed, we were hours too late to both groups of Bearers. I need,” you swallow, before correcting yourself, “We need to get back out there today to try and get a head start on the next. I’m sure there’s a pattern, or we can stage something or-”

“Absolutely not.”

“Dorys.”

“No. You look awful. Did you even sleep?”

“I’m fine.” You reply, tersely.

“I disagree. I’m not letting you take out a group like this, let alone go out yourself. You will report to the infirmary and you will rest.”

“Really?” You can’t mask the incredulous tone of your voice.

“I’m surprised Clive didn’t say this to you already.”

Your heart skips at the sound of his name, but then Dorys frowns in realization.

“Wait, you came down from the bunks. Did you not see him last night?”

“It doesn’t matter where I slept!” You hiss, remembering to watch your volume at this early hour.

She gives you a hard stare. “If you won’t listen to me, I know you will listen to him. Go and see Clive before I drag you to him.”

You clench your fists in frustration, trying to steady your breath.

“Yes, Captain. I apologise. It was late, I did not wish to disturb him. I will go and report in now.” You spin on your heel and jog down the stairs to the boarding deck and towards the ale hall. The problem is, your frustration drives you until you reach the top of the stairs once more, the handle in your grip but then all you can remember is the scene of last night – how perfect the two had looked together…

It suddenly feels hard to breathe, a tightness constricting your chest, as if you can’t get your lungs to expand fully enough.

You need to get out of here, back into the fresh air.

You turn and stumble on the stairs, catching yourself on the banister.

“Hey, you all right there?” Gav’s concerned voice comes from below – he’d emerged through Blackthorne’s forge. He must be setting out on a scouting mission to be awake this early.

You look at him, trying to get a hold of yourself, force a smile and a word of reassurance, but you can’t.

Your legs give out under you and you sit down heavily on the stairs, still clutching on the banister. Your grip is weakening, the edges of your vision tinged with black. Why can’t you breathe? Are you so useless now you can’t even do that?

“Shit.” Gav races up the stairs, crouching down in front of you, eyes scanning to see where the injury is, because there must be one for you to be in such a state. “Clive.” He bellows in the direction of the chambers. “Clive!”

Heavy footsteps come from the chambers behind and you hear the door open behind you, that familiar gravelly, albeit sleep-tinged voice calling your name out with affection at first, but then again with alarm when he sees Gav’s face.

Gav stands up and back to allow Clive to take his place, before darting down the stairs, yelling something about how he’ll go fetch Tarja.

Clive cradles your face, asking you what’s wrong. He looks frightened, but that can’t be right. Why can’t you breathe?

He says something again to you, but the words don’t go in. All you can hear is how shallow your breathing has become. Tears line those stormy blue eyes you adore so much, the ones you could’ve spent staring into for hours. His mouth continues to move but it’s almost as if you were underwater, a ringing sound in your head, the black continuing to creep over your vision until the world disappears entirely.

--

The next conscious thought is that someone is holding your hand, rubbing their thumb back and forth over your knuckles in a comforting rhythm. Your chest still feels tight, but not as much as it did. You open your eyes and blink at the somewhat familiar ceiling of the infirmary.

“Thank the Founder you’re awake.” Clive says quietly, squeezing your hand.

You try to bolt up at his voice, but he places his hands on your shoulders and keeps you still.

“Easy, darling. You need to rest - please.” You’ve always found it hard to refuse him.

You nod and he smiles, letting go of your shoulders and readjusting the pillows to allow you to rest against a little more upright. “Here, drink.” He passes you a goblet of water from the bedside.  “I will fetch Tarja.”

You nod, taking it in trembling hands and sip the lukewarm water as he gets to his feet and heads around the curtain, soon returning with the red-headed physicker as you place the goblet back down.

“Good afternoon. You gave everyone quite a fright this morning.”

“I’m sorry.”

Tarja gives you a kind smile and takes a seat on the vacant bed. “Can you tell me what happened? Gav, Clive and Dorys have given me their side of the story.”

“I don’t know what it was. I just… I suddenly couldn’t breathe. It was like something was constricting my chest and I couldn’t get the air in.”

Tarja nods. “How had you been feeling before this occurred?”

“Fine.”

Clive and Tarja give you a disparaging look.

“A little tired, then.”

“Dorys told us you’ve been working exceptionally hard, and it has been a trying week.”

“Please, can we not speak of my failures?” Your breath hitches in your throat, your heart begins to pound again. “I’ll do better, I will…”

“Easy.” Tarja chides, leaning forward. “Take a deep breath, hold it, then release. Copy me.”

You do so for a couple of moments, feeling silly, but your chest loosens, your heart settling into a more comfortable rhythm.

“Better?”

“Mm. What’s the matter with me?”

“You’re exhausted, for one. You need to rest and properly look after yourself. You’re taking too much on your shoulders and this is your body’s way of repaying you. Your mind is overwhelmed." She paused for a moment, and nods to herself. "You’re relieved from the Cursebreakers.”

“But-"

“Listen to Tarja.” Clive pleads. “They will cope without you and when you are better, I promise you can resume your duties.”

You know you can’t get out of this, not with Tarja, Clive and Dorys all laying down the law.

You nod.

“Good.” Tarja smiles. “I’m going to brew you some tea and get you a hot meal. I will discharge you later on, all being well.”

“Thank you, Tarja.” Clive nods as the physicker gets to her feet.

“Thank you.” You repeat, softly.

Tarja retreats back around the other side of the screen and Clive takes hold of your hand once more, his brow still furrowed in concern.

“Dorys said you returned last night. Why didn’t you come to my chambers? I’ve missed you so.”

You look down at your lap. It would better to get this nightmare over with.

“I heard you and Jill.”

“Heard what?” He sounds truly puzzled.

“I came up to the chambers and the two of you were laughing. You sounded happy. And all I could think was when was the last time I’d heard you laugh like that? We hardly see each other. I’m always out with the Cursebreakers, and you’re always away with Jill.” He starts to protest, but you hold up your hand. “Please, Clive, it’s okay. I understand. Don’t… Don’t let me stand in the way anymore.”

“Stand in the way - what do you mean?”

“You and Jill are perfect for one another. I understand that you want to end whatever we’ve been calling this…“ You continue talking into your lap, afraid that if you look up you'll see relief in his eyes.

“Now, I admit I’ve been somewhat neglectful of you-”

“No, that’s not what-“

“Please, allow me to finish. I have, and that’s not fair. I desire nothing more than to spend the rest of my days with you, but I have allowed myself to be consumed with the Mothercrystals and the nature of that does mean that Jill has been in my company as late. I can’t take you into an aetherflood, I won’t risk it.”

“Destroying the Mothercrystals is important.”

“It is, and though we are fighting so Bearers and Dominants and everyone can live on their own terms, we still must remember to live in the moments we have.” Clive presses his hand to the side of your face, placing his thumb under your chin and tilts your gaze gently towards him.

“I love you.”

“Clive…” Your eyes burn with unshed tears.

“You, and only you, are the flame that burns within my heart. Earlier, when you spoke of your failures – what failures? You strive to be the best you can every day, darling. I see it, Dorys sees it, Jill, Gav, Otto, Charon – the whole Hideaway. You are passionate, hardworking, kind, considerate… You will have to forgive me as I am no scribe, but I could continue to wax on somewhat lyrically of everything I adore about you.” His face flushes red as he continues to hold your gaze.

“I love you – I do not tell you enough, I know I don’t – and I vow, from this moment onwards, I will make sure you know this every day.”

Your breath catches again, but not in the same way it had previously. You lean forward, allowing yourself to be fully enveloped in his arms and you sob into his neck – releasing the tension that has been building up within you for days.

He holds you close, rubbing his large palm on your back in comforting circles, allowing your anxieties to retreat under the surface. You know they will re-emerge at some point – it would be foolish to think they would not – but for now they settle.

“I love you too,” you mumble, gaining some composure after a period and pull back, wiping the tears from your face before kissing him, delicately. It is a gentle, reassuring kiss – perfect for the moment. Soft pecks against each other’s lips, before you nip his with your teeth ever so slightly.

He pulls back, pressing his forehead against yours. “Careful, my love, or you’ll make me lose my breath.”

--

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

[mosthuggableffxiv]

Most Boopable Minion Part 2: Actual Animals

These minions are all entered in the Most Puntable/Huggable minion tournament I will (Eventually) be running here. If you don’t see one you like on this poll and would like to enter them, click here!

[salternateunreality2]

To improve mental health of SOLDIER, Lazard decided to allow emotional support animals. He was about to make the rules of what is and is not allowed, but the news already spread like wildfire

Cloud: *hugging Zack, pink-faced but determined*

Sephiroth: Strife, I had him first.

Cloud: *shakes head, teary eyed (they are mostly fake tears, but he's good at looking like a sad baby chick and will use any advantage)*

Zack: I can be a support animal for BOTH of you, I have enough support animals of my own to compensate!

Cloud: *considers...nods*

Sephiroth: *joins the hug briefly* Wait, what do you me-

*rats, ferrets, parakeets, cockroaches, crows, lizards, a raccoon, and more start pouring out of Zack's baggy pants*

Zack: MY FRIENDS! 🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞

Kunsel, who had just strolled in with his giant porcupine: Hey Zack!

Random SOLDIERs: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!! GET AWAY FROM MUFFINS! HELP, THERE'S A BAT!!!!

Angeal: *left work the instant the words left Lazard's lips to lock himself in his apartment with his plants and bugs*

Genesis: *screaming and firaga-ing until Zack's emotional support touch-me turns him into a frog, now he's just bellowing*

Roche: *rolling on the floor playfully with his pet couerl* who's a good girl? You are!

Couerl: *purrs like a jet engine*

Roche: THAT'S MY GIRL!

Lazard: ...I may have miscalculated.

[windupiceheart]

ffxivwrite #6 - Ring

wc. 731, B'ig Nunh and you 🫵, pov: you are going on a date with B'ig Nunh

You are going on a date with B’ig Nunh to the Eorzean Moogle Fair this fair day.

He planned it weeks in advance, saying that it was so important that you and him went as it only came around once every couple years. He was super excited about it so you had to say you’d go. Because you love him, of course. 

When you arrive at the fair, there isn’t a B’ig Nunh in sight. Though there are many people wearing hats similar to his moogle hat with a heart pom. You look around, playing a game of spot the Miqo’te in couerl briefs you know he’s going to wear. When you first met him, you thought they were an interesting choice in fashion, but they’ve really grown onto you,   kind of. You finally spot a bright blue spot in the distance, rapidly approaching you. 

“Sorry, I’m late!!!” B’ig Nunh shouts while running towards you. Before he can get to you, he trips and falls and a little kyaa comes out of him. He quickly gets back up. “I’m okay.”

You find this cute for some reason. He’s so funny and interesting and sexy and hot and– you don’t know what came over you, must be the author’s bias. “Hi B’ig,”

“Hi, my sweet snurble,” He says, holding your hands and pulling you closer. You laugh.

“Snurble?” He laughs too. 

“Oh, I made this for you.” he pulls out a bag tied with a very pretty ribbon. “Balls.”

“Huh.” You open the bag and surely enough, those are balls. B’ig Nunh’s homemade chocolate balls that is. You playfully push the side of his head. “You jokester.”

“Let’s go already!” B’ig Nunh pulls you towards the fair. There’s so many moogle themed things here. Anyone who hates moogles must hate this place. Not B’ig Nunh though, how could he hate moogles when he’s been wearing the moogle hat longer than you’ve known him. 

The two of you go on the fair’s attraction rides, whether the ones you ride are like the huge wyrmcoaster or like the moogle-go-round, or both, we will never know. 

“Let’s go on another one!” B’ig Nunh says enthusiastically. You’re actually a bit tired now. 

“I’ll pass, but you can go ahead. I’ll wait here.” 

“What? No, I’d rather stay here with you,” that makes your cheeks flush. The two of you start walking around the fair. 

B’ig Nunh points to one of the stands. “Hey look! Funny hats!” 

He pulls you towards the hats. You both put the novelty hats on each other and laugh.

“Wait,” he grabs one of the headbands and puts it on you. It was a moogle headband with a heart shaped pom. “We’re matching now!”

–

The night sky falls over you. Time flies when you’re having fun. B’ig suggests that you walk along the river with him, a little ways away from the fair. The cool air hits your face. It’s nice. 

B’ig Nunh runs a little ahead of you and crouches, putting his arms behind him. “Hop on.”

“Hop on?” 

“Yeah! I’ll carry you.” You mount B’ig Nunh. He carries you with ease and runs as fast he can along the riverside. This is very impressive or just okay depending on how big you are. Later he puts you down and immediately starts carrying you bridal style. You get a great view of his extremely handsome, hot, sexy face, maybe even the sexiest in Eorzea. You get to a nice area and he finally actually puts you down. He hugs you.

“You know, we’ve been together for,      an amount of time.” He loosens his grip so he can look at you. You gaze into his beautiful hot sexy cerulean and greenish cerulean eyes that glisten in the moonlight. “I love you, Y/N.” 

He takes a step back and bends down on one knee, his bare knee because he’s not wearing proper trousers... Your heartbeat quickens in anticipation. He looks up at you and smiles and pulls an extremely shiny, metallic blue box. He opens it to reveal a silver ring with a heart shaped gem. 

“Will you–”

 “hi b’ig” Vertical said walking downstairs, interrupting B’ig’s reading mid sentence and taking him out of his imaginative delusions. He put down his book and looked up at Vertical from his bed. 

“Hey! B’ig Nunh was just about to propose to me!” he huffed.

“?” 

[thepmmmwitchproject]

Results of the Poll!

Alright, now that the poll has past its deadline, its time to see what you guys as Magireco fans want from the side series. Starting with first place with practically a quarter of the votes...

Kazumi Magica!

As the first spinoff of Madoka Magica, I'm not surprised this was first place. Considering, aside from the three girls we got at the beginning and Kazumi Subaru, there's no other Kazumi representation. Heck, we don't even have the presumable Magireco-original girl drawn by Kazumi's artist yet! We don't even Saki and Niko, who have both made physical appearance in the game already...

In second place with 19% of votes is...

Madoka Magica!

This refers to the girls Madoka in saved in the montage, Cleopatra & Himiko, and the familiars of Walpurgis that appeared in the endcard. You think we'd get at least one of them in Puella Historia. There is a lot of situations where they could add them in, probably as three-star characters to add as permanent units to the gacha, rather than limited one, aside from the bear girl. Also the game (finally) get black representation with the savannah girl! Some of the girls are already shown to be present in the game

That's literally card art right there!! In third place with 19% of votes is...

It's the first spinoff since the release of Magia Record, so of course this one was going to be high up! Really interested to see how Kosane & Eruna would work ingame, would they have separate magi outfits, doppels even? Couerl would probably be a capped welfare unit, much like previous girls named after the color black before her. Maybe even the finger family witch could too? Tying at fourth place with 8.9% of the votes each...

Mobage! and...

Tart Magica!

Mobage is most likely one of the only sources of Magi and Witch context not used in Magireco, and with some pretty interesting characters like Elise or Claire, and the 8 whole exclusive witches, I'm surprised they haven't. Tart on the other hand is probably the side series with the most characters featured in Magireco, now to the point that only a few minor magi could make their debut... and also like, the more than 30 witch designs they could use.

[furys-mercy]

- | Disowned | -

Word Count: 837 Characters: Marcette de Lamoreaux, Sebastian de Vairemont Sebastian Greystone, Dacien de Vairemont (Mentioned)

__________________

As it pleases his lordship, the Baron Dacien de Vairemont, Sebastian, formerly of the House of Vairemont shall be known to all as Sebastian Greystone. Any and all claims to the titles and estates held by the House of Vairemont have hereby been rescinded.

“Why in all of the seven bloody hells are you here?”

Where most would have had the good sense to steer clear of the newly minted Sebastian Greystone, Marcette had been preparing herself for his wrath since she’d received Dacien’s edict. Even going so far as to don her best crimson dress for the occasion, a not-so-subtle nod to recently lost houses and heraldry.  

“Why, my dear brother, might a sister not…” The cold little smirk fell from her lips as she entered the parlor. This was not at all what she had expected. 

“Might what? Come to gloat?” Sebastian lay draped across his settee, shirt open and cravat discarded. “Go ahead. Say your piece.” He took a swig from the half-empty bottle of wine that had been resting in his grip. “But, do choose your words carefully, my Lady Lamoreaux, for they will be the last I shall ever be forced to hear.”

“Is this how you greet your guests, Sebastian?” Marcette gathered her silk skirts and traversed the maze of clothing that lay strewn about the floor. “Mother would be most upset to find that you have forgotten the most important of her many lessons.” 

“You, Marcette, are not a guest. You are a pest. And if I were not absolutely certain that you would howl like a couerl in heat if left on my doorstep overlong, I would not have allowed you entry.” He stared up at her, blue eyes rimmed in dark circles. “Now, was that all?”  

Marcette let out a disgruntled little huff as she perched herself on the edge of the nearby wingback chair that was almost always occupied by her now overly morose brother. The thought had crossed her mind that seating herself upon his proverbial throne might oust him from his stupor. For he had yet to truly rise to her challenge, and she didn’t come all of this way to be disappointed. “Who are you? And what, exactly, have you done with my brother?”

Sebastian nodded towards a piece of parchment on the floor. “You may read for yourself. I am, it would appear, Sebastian Greystone.” His words were punctuated by another swig of wine straight from the bottle, an act that Marcette silently attributed to his recent associations with soot-covered brume rats.

“That is who you have always been.” Her words were matter-of-fact. “Do not act as if today is the first time you are hearing the true nature of your birth. You are a bastard. You have always been a bastard and that truth has never reduced you to…” She wiggled her lace-covered fingers in his direction. “Whatever this is.” 

“That is not the issue at hand and even you are not dense enough to think otherwise.” He pushed himself up onto his elbow, eyes narrowed at her. “Is there no part of you that cares for her wishes?”

Marcette was caught off guard by the question and it showed in her eyes. “She is dead, Sebastian.” A fact that she still struggled with. “Her wishes carry no weight here.”

“And why not? You know as well as I do that Dacien would not have so much as a single cushion to sit his pampered little arse upon if it were not for her. She built our house from near nothing!” He sat up further with each word until he was looming over her, bottle still in hand. “She is owed respect!”

There it was. The rage she had been searching for. Though, she would be loath to admit that it did not truly bring her joy. “Respects were paid and she was sent to the Fury’s halls in fine fashion. You and I can only hope for a mere fraction of the same.” The usual sweetness in her tone was all but gone, destroyed by the weight of the conversation. “She left behind a legacy, I will not argue that point, but you seem to be under the rather misguided impression that said legacy is you when it is most certainly not.” 

Sebastian moved to interrupt her. She raised a single gloved finger. “Ah. Do not worry, dear brother, I do not mean to suggest that I have found myself in the enviable position of filling Ysabel de Vairemont’s rather enormous shoes. I, unlike you, am well aware of my precarious position.” Marcette gracefully rose from her seat, straightening to her full height, which was at least two ilms taller than Sebastian, as she liked to remind herself. “I am also aware of our brother’s position in this family and the power he wields. We rise and fall at his bidding. You must come to be at peace with that.”

The Bastard of Vairemont squared his shoulders and raised his head to meet her gaze. The boy who had been set to drink himself into a stupor was nowhere to be found, having been replaced with the man Marcette had expected to meet. “I have no interest in peace.”