#DRK quest line

[digeethegenie]

Yuyujo Yujo Can't (Eorezan) Common

Day 09 - Lend A Ear Heavensward (3.0) - Post DRK 30-50 questline CW - Minor depiction of depression. Word Crimes

"Hey, Alphinaud."

Alphinaud looked up from his cup of tea. It had been a week of Count Fortamps inforced confinment to the mansion since the misadventure with the Dark Knight soulstone and things had been tense between himself and Yujo. It had been cold ever since the banquet- and not without cause- but he had genuinely thought the two had turned the corner after the blowout with the shade of her self-esteem at Camp Dragonhead.

He knew his absolution was not a godsgiven right. Frankly, after everything, he felt that getting beaten to an inch by someone who practiced The Fist of The Destroyer was the absolute least of what he deserved.

Yujo, for her part, looked akward. Her legs were dangling off the setee oposite Alphinaud. Her disposistion didn't suprise him given the shift in attitude she had whilst she was under the influance of her realised inner self. She had episodes of crying, appologising to everyone, and even spent a whole day in bed sleeping off the sheer amount of energy lost to the episode. The saffron oil that Haruchefant had went all the way to Ul'dah and back to get helped with the worst of the symptoms but he was truely concerned that something had broken in the warrior of light.

"Listen. I said and thought… a lot, 'lot' of really awful things about you whilst... I was under the influance of the soul stone." she stood up from the setee and bowed.

"I'm sorry I thought you a milksup."

The confession caught Alphinaud by suprise. An akward silence floated in the air before he put his tea down.

He ered for a moment before looking at her seriously. "A-Appology accepted, Yujo. But… what's a milksup?"

The blank expression on Yujo's face made it clear she was very confused why he asked that question.

"Y-You know. A milksup? A weak man-child still supping their mother's milk?"

A sudden realisation came to Alphinaud.

"Yujo, you don't mean 'milksop', after the baby food, do you? Someone who is indecisive and/or lacks courage?"

The Lalafell's freckled face grew a shade of red and she cupped her face in her tiny hands. "Oh gods. I ha' dat wrong de whol' time?!" she said, slipping back to her sperian accent out of sheer embarkment. Her head shook in embarassment. "Oh, I'll nev'r hear the 'nd of it from Nu'aka!"

Alphinaud motioned Yujo to calm down. "I-It's OK, really! If it helps, I thoguht for the longest time "milquetoast" was prounced "Milk toast"!"

The two laughed about that one untill Yujo interjected with a smile that made her look like a child "You mean… It's not?"

A sense of panic washed over Alphinaud. In any other scinario learning this new thing about the Warrior of Light would have been, at worst, a funny little thing that would have no bearing on anything. Right now, however, this was 'not' what Yujo needed to deal with.

Suddenly a quick ah-ha moment came to him.

"What about Bon Appetit? It's an Ishgardian term but it's got a lot of use around the whole of Eoreza!"

Yujo nodded. "Yes, I think it's kinda funny that people try to wish away such a disgusting idea of a meal to make the meal they're about to eat taste better better."

That one caused something in Alphinaud to snap and a rush of laughter grabbed first him him and then Yujo.

They just couldn't stop.

The worries of their lives didn't die out with that moment but this one converstaion had lifted their sprits up considerabley. So much so they didn't notice the count or Tataru come into the room as they were laughing.

Seeing the two in such good fell, the count motioned to Tataru and she nodded in agreement as they left the two to it.

[pangolinheart]

*rhiki voice* Okay, but can we discuss it a little?

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

ok i think the best part of the drk quests overall though is the point whenever you open up your journal midway through and abruptly realize that your wol has started taking notes in a completely different voice

[plushchimera]

i’ve been putting off the last dark knight’s quest for so long and now i’m sad it’s over

[ciitrinitas]

hhhh, what job quest line does lyse appear in... i've thought about it, and i legit just want to watch her additional scenes before i consider my involvement in xiv fully wrapped up.

[impossible-rat-babies]

really feeling a way about eyrie being a healer tonight

[mikkouille]

I should be gaming rn

[shades-of-tedium]

People bitching about Dawntrail have really forgotten full circle narratives and can't enjoy WoL beach episode after nearly dying for the xyz amount of times. Let WoL be sassy and take an apprentice! Dawntrail is just hammering in the morals of previous expansions. Its literally telling you to do what you want while carrying on for the folks that died. Go do DRK quest line ffs.

[tainbocuailnge]

Another thing that's... kinda odd about the English translation is in the DRK quests, Myste says "A reckoning will not be postponed indefinitely", which is a big line in basically a secret route of the browser game Fallen London. and yeah, it is a cool line and neat to hear it in FF14... it also doesn't really work for Myste? In it's original context, it's about the remains of a dead demi-god-like being, which was cast into a well, seeking a reckoning and leading the player down a route which will irreversibly destroy their character in pursuit of dark secrets.

Which is not what the Myste sections of DRK were about at all, lol.

oh I could rant for hours about dark knight translations. that questline is actually why I first went to scope out the german script, because I heard drk wildly differs between english and japanese and that german generally stays closer to japanese than english does. I translated some of the fray parts here actually, though you'll note I'm a lot more forgiving of the english script in that one because i hadn't reached sidurgu's parts yet löl

german fray and myste are just completely different characters from english. german myste is upbeat and energetic. he loves people who help others and feels a strong urge to help them in turn. he spawned from the dark knight crystal in response to the loneliness of countless dark knights stored within it so he could console them and be their friend, he's basically the will of the soul crystal itself. he tries to alleviate that loneliness by facilitating reunions with lost loved ones but grows frustrated that this only leads to more partings, so he tries to expand his powers to maintain his illusions forever, because more than anything he just doesn't want to leave his dear friends the dark knights alone. he represents the childish wish at the core of every dark knight for a world where nobody has to lose anyone again.

in the part of the quests where you take myste to the sea of clouds there's this bit where in english he talks about his guilt complex and lets slip that this is also your guilt. in german he tells you that he was always with these people who fight hard for others, watching from the sides, until one day he heard a cry of loneliness and since then he's been trying his best to help people too. that's the moment that for me really hammered it in that these languages fundamentally disagree on what it even means to be a dark knight.

in english myste is desperate to atone for everything he's ever done and fray is your self preservation instinct who is kinda mad that you let it get this far, but they have to forgive him because you're all you have as you walk this lonely and bloody path that you have to believe is right. in german myste is your ideal, the desire to comfort those who have no-one else, crying that maybe it's better to forget altogether if partings can't be avoided and fray is your human heart who agrees that parting will always hurt but that is exactly where you find the strength to continue the fight, because it is worthwhile even if it never ends, and the path may be lonely but you will never walk it alone when there are people who came before you and who will come after you who all share this same dream of a kinder world. of course you won't have to leave us, you're our ideal, you're what we do it all for, as long as we remain dark knights you'll be with us. this all flows very naturally into drk-as-shadowbringers-class and ardbert's deal too but since I haven't reached shb in german yet I don't want to say anything extensive about it yet

i still think english drk was cooking with even your repressed feelings being repressed + the part of yourself that wants to protect itself obviously trying to protect itself and thus not wanting to show vulnerability so en fray postures as the stronger one who will protect you instead, and that fray writing in the journal (and only being able to be honest in a place where you're unlikely to look unless you don't know where to go) is incredibly clever. but in the context of how english treats sidurgu and just the way they handle the entire rest of the game really i also don't think that they were intentionally going for this kind of subtlety, it feels to me more like they just thought sincerity is cringe like usual and decided to make everyone cool and edgy (and thus needlessly mean to each other) instead.

and yeah english fucking loves to just yoink lines from other media whether it's appropriate or not. they turned zenos' final words to wol into a hamilton reference in english, "my first friend, my enemy" is a hamilton line, he doesn't ever call you his enemy in any other language (in german he calls you his hunter though which yes is incredibly horny of him). I'll admit I'm not in a good position to judge whatever epic references the german script makes because I'm unfamiliar with german language popular media so I won't spot them unless someone else points them out but I do know that when german fray quotes fight club it just enhances their characterisation as trying to sound cool and intimidating but failing because they're really kind of lame and awkward and can't hide how stoked they are to hang out with you.

[larchelle-ffxiv]

more 7.0 spoilers bc I was DRAINED after finishing msq yesterday. also a lot of headcanon stuff for my skrungly bc I have THOUGHTS AND THINGS I GOTTA WRITE

- so this expac hurt obviously, but MAN I didn't expect it to touch on grief and loss, let alone HOW it approached that. where shb and ew had similar themes going on of "regardless of the loss and sorrow we are faced with, we will learn to press on and continue", that sorta thing. dt is here like "hiya gamers are you ready to learn how to ACTUALLY LET GO OF THAT LOSS? HOW TO ACTUALLY SIT DOWN AND PROCESS THAT GRIEF? WELL YOURE GONNA LEARN TODAY"

- everything about alexandria/LM BROKE ME. a really powerful message on how impressive and impactful technology can be, but also how quickly it can be weaponized and abused. and the shit about erasing the memories of those who die just being commonplace???? the turali people who were in the dome, found themselves losing THIRTY YEARS OF THEIR LIVES, their loved ones back in tural thinking they were dead or missing and they were RIGHT THERE, some in that time REALLY DYING/BECOMING ENDLESS? good GOD that fucked me up. not to mention EVERYTHING ABOUT SPHENE. she didn't ASK to be made into an endless, she had goddamn levin sickness and WENT TO TRY TO HELP HER PEOPLE ANYWAY, preservation forced her new self to put the people's needs and desires so much in the forefront of her priorities that she became a TERRIBLY FLAWED leader, but was so blind to her faults bc she "did everything for her people's wellbeing". she's a heartbreaking character for sure, ugh

- this expac gave us SO MUCH GOD DAMN WORLD BUILDING. WOW. ive never done every single yellow quest in an expac, but I've made it a huge goal of mine to do it here esp throughout the expac, and it's been SO WORTH IT. the further extended lore, the foreshadowing/clarification and further explanation for things, it was all terrific jfc. now I wanna go back and do yellow quests for all the expansions bc bro. this shit is just SITTING HERE??? FOR FREE????

- I've finally figured out why people (aka capital g Gamers on reddit/ff forums/twitter) don't like this expac. it's absolutely feeling like what stb has become to a lot of the player base. it features a lot of POC, has female leads, and we as the WoL aren't The Main Character. at least in stb we had more of a presence as WoL, but here one title doesn't matter anywhere near as much in comparison. also, with a lot of the dialogue/plot stuff/music (esp the songs with lyrics) , this expac is kingdom hearts coded AS FUCK. it's goofier than EW/SHB, it has more corny stuff going on, wuk lamat is LITERALLY female furry sora. they're mad that we aren't the Main Character, they're mad it isn't as edgy/horrific/depressing, they """can't relate""" bc everything is so diverse and full of hispanic culture, and they're fucking FIXATED on wuk lamat's VA being a trans woman. jfc I'm so glad I'm not on Twitter and I don't look at the ffxiv reddit, bc the shit I've heard has been pathetic and obnoxious lmao. like, try to have ACTUAL CONSTRUCTIVE THINGS to complain about.

also, I hold the unpopular opinion of HW being my least favorite experience in game. the beginning of it is SO GODDAMN SLOW AND PAINFUL, and i honestly got soooo bored of seeing the same looking white elezens/hearing about the Catholic Control and Drama. i also really dont like the dungeons or trials (minus the last msq one, still great thematically), and playing 50-60 as a scholar was NOT fun lmao. hilda, the OST, and everything relating to the DRK quest line are basically all that kept me going through that expac.

But I won't go being a goddamn asshole about it to people who like it!!! let people ENJOY things jfc lmao, also recognize that every single expac takes time to hit the Big Frickin Moments (aka level x7 most of the time), and not everything needs to involve huge amounts of massacre and horror!!! even then, did yall NOT pay attention to what happened with solution 9/living memory??? where goddamn SOULS ARE A CURRENCY???? how about the mamool ja SACRIFICING INFANTS EN MASSE in hopes of a two headed son being born, and putting all their faith in that son to get them out from the deepest depths of the jungle???? or the war between them and the x'braal???? is2g the lack of media literacy/reading comprehension amongst gamers, I'm so TIRED

RANT OVER UGH ANYWAYYYYY

- chelle is absolutely gonna find her adoptive mom satsuki in the canal town section of living memory. hands fucking down. ive had this idea for y e a r s now of them having a chance meeting in the aetherial sea as she "died" after fighting zenos in UT, but it fits SO WELL to have it take place in LM of all places. satsuki spending YEARS trying to find her lil meow meow again, hearing tales of what sounded like her girl, but how in the hell did the shy, sickly child she once cared for get strong enough to become a whole ass HERO??? and just always ending up in each place she was too long after she had left, bc she was only able to work off of hearsay ;A;

me and my partner have it where satsuki's wife and her always hoped to visit tural together, and she gave her wife notes on how she needed to help satsuki find this young miqo girl she adopted after her wife went to travel again. as luck would have it, enna was in tural waiting for satsuki to join her there (satsuki and her were doing research based on chelle's appearance and accent and essentially crossed every continent off the list over time. esp Ala mhigo bc, even tho that's where satsuki found her, enna knew she couldn't be born there based on she herself being Ala mhigan). enna becomes chelle's viper mentor and says that she knows her mother, but doesn't elaborate much until they get to know each other better.

so them finding her in LM? still running a tavern and keeping people happy with booze and food and sea shanties all sung off key? oh it's gonna DESTROY THEM, but be such an important step in getting closure/learning to face grief head on/letting her go without regrets. and they're gonna be a family and UGH I CANT WAIT TO WRITE IT

- fellow wolgrahas. fellow wolgrahas how the FUCK WE DOIN BOYS, LIKE?????? they really gave us a main story quest to help an endless find an engagement ring to propose to his beloved, AND THEN IMMEDIATELY AFTER. put us on a gondola ride with g'raha so he could have a """heartfelt conversation"""with us AGAIN???? BRO!!!!!!

chelle and him are absolutely gonna finally address their relationship again, where g'raha has been struggling to figure out whether or not to propose lol. he really wants to do something to symbolize them being together for life, but knows that she isn't the kind of person who likes just staying in one place/being tied down and isn't really about traditional. well anything lol. he's gonna stumble his way through all those thoughts before she gently cuts him off, reassuring him that she understands and appreciates how thoughtful he's been about the whole thing. reflect a bit on what they've seen and been through, both in the first and since he returned to the source, and with this couple and them talking about "living without regrets/living life to the fullest"(gotta reread the dialogue for when I write this lol). and thought stuffy fancy shindigs aren't her thing, she knows damn well that he's someone she wants to see the world and share her life with.

and SHE'S the one who gets down on one knee and asks him to elope with her/be life partners. the bitch PROPOSES HERSELF, but is too stupid to realize/still too scared of vulnerability to actually call it what it is. and he's about to burst into tears and before he can say anything the gondola knocks into the pier at the end of the ride, as chelle's kissing his hand, causing her to nearly headbutt the poor boy in the crotch and both of them panicked going "OH GODS ARE YOU OKAY, DID YOU GET HURT, SORRY". and they stare at one another before chelle awkwardly laughs going "i guess this would be a bad time to make a joke about "giving you head", huh" or something else cringe like that, to which they both start laughing, holding hands as they step back onto the pier before those laughs are joined with joy filled crying as they hold each other as tight as gd possible and jfeivoeoivoeor

I'm sure I'll have more to say and reflect on but this is already super long and I just. wow. what a goddamn incredible experience dawntrail has been.

[amoirsetpacis]

★ --;; There is wind whistling in his ears until there’s not, until heavy boots thud against the dirt, feathers exploding from their roots in great bursts as he does so, as the roaring of the ship passes by overhead as though to blanket the lot of them; to drown out sound of children screaming, the feeling of bullets lodging themselves into those extensions of himself as the impacts rattle down them and into his nerves.��

The twin suns are high; they beat down hot like uncaring gods, their heat searing through whatever being may dare to tread their endless wastelands, as if to say ‘March on, you sinners; there is no escaping our sight. Nor your fate.’

Get up, Wolfwood. 

He’s still a bloody heap in the sand, pinned beneath what can only be the man he’d spoken of back in the dark of that outcropping, the only thing that had sheltered their tattered bodies after their descent. And he’d moved, but not enough; not enough to stop those bullets in their trajectory, and for those few scant seconds that three armed demon is staring Vash down Wolfwood still doesn’t move.

They need you!

Get up!

Everything gets lost in the chaos; in maniacal laughter and a new rain of bullets, the volley too many, too fast. Power surges through him like a flood, new extensions like limbs of their own borne of desperation for speed, for more defenses he simply doesn’t have. Dust kicks up into his eyes, unblinking and laser-focused with each round as it zips forward, past him, through his periphery. A living shield. What can’t be blocked can be shot– bullet for bullet, minute movements in his arm like lightning moving in tandem with his wings, and yet still there’s suddenly the feeling of his gut being pierced, of the ripping and tearing of flesh.

And then he can smell it.

It singes his nose so much more than the gunpowder and blood, acrid and horrible, and with the sudden deathly silence that follows the wet sound of corpse of that man crumpling against the earth it’s all he can focus on. His stomach churns, feels like he’s swallowed the stuff, like there’s bile at the back of his throat. Now that he knows what it is. Now that he knows what it’s done. That serum signing away another piece of Wolfwood.

Not a piece of his soul, though. Of his heart. The one Vash knows like the back of his hand, that caring man whose hands are shaking as they grip the Punisher, his sunglasses, eyes wild and bright. They’re begging him, he realizes instantly, for the things Wolfwood cannot say; for Vash to hide away the monster he so believes he’s become. 

Can monsters have hearts like this? So full they’re bursting?

“Don’t worry!” He smiles as he urges them inside, despite everything. These children hold Wolfwood's heart, its hidden beat gentle and fierce in tandem with its love (he's seen it, that softness in the corners of his eyes, unignorable); Vash owes them this much, this scant ease in a terrifying storm. “I’m a friend of Nicholas’." The name feels foreign on his tongue, but it rolls off of it like it belongs there. Like it should have been said a long time ago, again and again and again. "Trust me!”

That man fears death more than anyone. Fears leaving them behind in a world too cruel and unforgiving with real monsters lurking in dark alleys as they do. One of them is lying face down in the dirt, only a few feet away, and Vash realizes with a pang that he holds no sadness for its deformity in lifelessness. Instead there's only relief; knowing that this terror hovering over the shoulder of the person he holds closest in this world can't be there to hurt him, any more.

And then the two of them are flowing in tandem again, a dance that only they know, and for the briefest of moments everything is at it should be. They are a team, inseparable, incomparable. They are extensions of one another, and Vash doesn't even have to think; despite the bloodshed it's their own sort of waltz, so much more graceful than any of their stumbled two-steps in dingy bars.

Apart, together, spin, exchange, interlude. (It doesn't even hurt that much when Wolfwood punches him in the head for what must have been the millionth time. Instead it just feels like being welcomed home.)

They both know why he's here. Why he's not chasing after the Ark at full speed. Vash knows Wolfwood knows, and honestly some part of him is glad that Wolfwood is picking on him, instead. That the words don't get the chance to get caught in his chest.

Soon, he thinks, even as he feigns dramatics. Maybe. When this is all over.

Apart again, their dance incomplete and interrupted, their steps just that bit off-kilter. It's just that now, every word coming out of Wolfwood's mouth feels like a stone in his gut; and they keep multiplying, send that horrible sense of wrong through his limbs. It's dread, he realizes. Fear. Because Wolfwood's never spoken like that before, never. Not with that resignation in the corners of his voice despite the roar of gunfire between them. Their steps are becoming more and more misaligned; Wolfwood is dancing a tune Vash doesn't know. Doesn't want to know.

Vash refuses to leave him to die alone like a snarling dog. He can't.

"You have to survive at all costs, right!?"

Wolfwood is steady as stone, even if he's cracked. Firm. Resolute. There, in a way Vash has never once thought of anyone else. Solid. Persevering.

So why does it feel like he's crumbling?

"You have to get back to the kids!"

You have to stay with me.

"Why are you giving up!?"

You can't. Not when you've kept me going for so long.

Vash wants to scream, wants to grab him by the lapels and shake some sense into him, but there's too much distance between the both of them for him to do so. He can't talk like that-- he can't. Like-- like he doesn't expect to finish this.

He doesn't have time to linger, doesn't have time to let his thoughts keep racing with what the hell Wolfwood means, stop talking like that Wolfwood-- before there's pain blossoming hot in his shoulder, rubble exploding around him and sending him flying back towards where he's supposed to be, where his entire body was pulling him to regardless.

Where it would always pull him, he's realized. To the person he wants to spend his tomorrows with. All of them.

And then Wolfwood falls into him, like he's done so many times before. In joy, in brief blessings of respite, in comradery, in drunken shuffles hanging onto each other, in carrying one another out of bloodshed and wreckage, in quiet nights they didn't talk about, with that strong pulse he's memorized so close to his ear.

His heart's failing.

Vash staggers with him, like Wolfwood's leaning all of his weight into him for just that moment-- because he is. Because even for just that brief moment, Vash knows it's because he's there to be leaned on, like the universe is holding up a cruel mirror to the joy he's held so tightly to. Like the weight it almost too much for him, no matter how many times he's helped to bear it.

It may as well be, with the bell knolling.

Everything comes to a screeching halt. The world stops; the only thing Vash can hear is Wolfwood's ragged gasp against his ear, the stuttering of his pulse pressed against his chest. Start. Start. Stop. Stop. Stop. Start. Start. Start. Start. Stubborn, just like he is. And Vash can't move; can't do anything past the steady realization that he's going to lose him. All he can do is tighten his grip, desperate. God, God, please don't.

He doesn't even feel the blades as they pierce his shoulder. They're nothing. Those claws digging their way into his chest are so much worse, hot and serrated, like they're shredding him from the inside out because oh god, not like this.

Vash is only distantly aware he's straightening, that he's pulling Wolfwood along with him as he stands, still grasping hold of him like a lifeline. Because Wolfwood is. They are one in the same, vital. Vash wouldn't have made it this far without him. Couldn't have.

So he lets go.

Slowly, lingering. His fingers loosen one by one, palm falling away slowly until it's just the barely-there curl of his trigger finger- and then nothing. He doesn't want to. Wants to hold Wolfwood like he was never allowed to do-- and now won't ever be able to, some part of him knows. He won't ever feel that solid weight in his arms again, won't be able to help bear those burdens, and he can feels the cracks in his heart- chipping away more and more with it until a little black hole forms there. Expanding.

Fury erupts from it in waves; it has no time to build before it's ricocheting through his body, down his limbs and he's firing, teeth clenched so hard it radiates up in his temples, and god, god he wants to keep at it, some selfish part of him wanting to become that monster he's always been blamed to be just this once; feels it prickling beneath his skin, the want to bare his teeth like the devil and protect. He knows it won't stay long but he hopes the bullet going through Razlo's nose hurts, like he's never wished on anyone before.

But this is Wolfwood's fight. Vash has too much respect for him for that, Just as Wolfwood had with he and Knives-- so he hopes instead it carries through his words. As he turns, knowing what will happen when he does. Crush him.

And he watches on as Wolfwood does. As he does what Vash asks of him one last time. He watches, and he does nothing- doesn't join the fight, because Wolfwood asked him to, even as it eats him alive. Even as he watches Wolfwood pummel that battered and broken face, disfigured beyond recognition; as he sobs, heart breaking for Wolfwood because he knows the priest won't. Knows he won't cry, even as he's killing one more piece of his heart (and feels the guilt clambering up his spine as well, for that hatred that had sung in his bones).

Then there's movement; not Wolfwood, not Razlo, and finally that fury and anguish bubbling in his blood has somewhere to go as he throws his entire weight into those fucking grunts, as the barrels of both his guns tremble with the tightness of his grip, as he all but growls at them. "Don't interfere."

He's trapped now though, those hands wrapped around his arms like iron grips, and all he can do is struggle and scream because Wolfwood's not moving, he's gone still again save for the heaving in his chest, in his shoulders, and Razlo's going to rip his heart out, and--

It finishes. Just like that, it's done. The old man is really dead this time, and Livio is here, and Wolfwood's lying there in the sand with a cigarette in his mouth because of course he is, and Vash feels like he's going to go into hysterics; start laughing or sobbing or both, still feeling the tracks against his cheek and the dirt that's clung to them.

If there is one, singular thing in this living hell Vash is glad for, it's his ability to smile, still. Even if it's hollow and empty, even if he knows Wolfwood can see right through it like paper, Vash holds himself together. Long enough for the kids to leave, to board the ship that will ferry them to safety.

Wolfwood's not getting on that ship.

It was one thing to know. It's another to watch it happen.

(He's glad Wolfwood's cracking jokes, getting angry at him. It's keeping the fragile tape over the fissures in place, keeping him from flying apart at the seams. He couldn't give less of a shit about the half-coins Wolfwood gives him if he tries, penance for Charon in the dried up riverbed of the Styx; wants to say instead to stay. Don't give me this token to carry in my pocket of your--)

"Anyway," Wolfwood says, "Come on. We haven't had a drink in a while."

This side of the building is in shambles. Rebar sticks out in places, rubble littering the earth, wooden beams sticking out at angles they shouldn't be. But the sofa's strangely untouched, and it has a good view of the clear, blue sky stretching on for infinity.

The twin suns are still watching as Wolfwood pours him a shot.

Wolfwood asks him to smile. He wants to scream, wants to beg please don't do this. Oh, god, god, please do me this one favor. I know we're both sinners but don't take him from me, please.

Instead he just tells Wolfwood to shut up. To not say stupid things. Chokes it around the lump in his throat, desperate to not have the last thing Wolfwood hears to be him crying. But now the last thing Wolfwood has heard him say is asking him to stop talking, and he wishes with everything in him he hadn't. Wishes he'd let Wolfwood say whatever he wanted to, let him ramble and bitch no matter how stupid or hateful or ridiculous or painful, if only so he could keep hearing that gruff voice speaking to him, to keep it from leaving.

There's confetti in his hair, fluttering past his eyes and down into the dirt, and then there's a dull thud of the bottle hitting the ground, of the amber liquid inside sloshing out of its neck. It may as well have been a gunshot, with how much louder it is than the bell tower in Vash's ears. It does not ring but it's finality. The end. His chapters of having are gone, and there's not a single thing he can do to read them again. He doesn't have, anymore.

He's alone again.

He can't bring himself to look. Not yet. Slowly, his head sinks down to his knees as the roar of the Ark fills his ears, as it pollutes the beautiful expanse of sky Wolfwood deserves to see. Vash's shoulders are quaking, the meat of his palms pressing too-hard into his closed eyes, anguished howl building in the yawning cavity of his chest where his heart feels like it isn't, anymore; expanding until its fit to burst, until it fills every joint in his body, burns behind his eyelids, screams in his ears--

It ruptures, white and hot and bright, feathers erupting out of his flesh as he finally lets it go, as he feels his throat grow raw with its sheer force. It feels like the rest of him his flaying apart too, raw and stinging like a wound; it may as well be, some necessary part of its glue and seams sitting there next to him, unmoving. The shot glass shatters in his palms, glass splintering through the leather of his gloves and into his palms. Blood drips against the sand, but Vash can hardly feel it; it's so far, so distant, from the agony roiling beneath his ribs.

He will shield this place when Nicholas can not. Will shield this lingering part of his soul, lonely and quiet out in the wastes, from the cruelty the desert cradles in her dunes. From raining hellfire, blades splaying against his field with such great force Vash can feel it all the way in his teeth, but he doesn't care. Doesn't care as he feels the drain, the rot, because oh god some part of him wants it to end, too. Wants to sleep and not wake up, wants it all to be finished. Because even though he stares down his brother floating high above him, eyes bright and wild and furious, that flare of power may as well have been the part of himself Wolfwood is taking with him.

Vash doesn't know how long he sits there, not looking. His eyelids had slipped closed ages ago, when the Ark was finally out of range and he'd let the field drop with a great, shuddering sigh. He's afraid to look; feels like once he finally does looks over at Wolfwood, sees him unmoving, that it will make it all real. That this won't be just some horrible nightmare, one more to wake him up screaming in the middle of the night, one that Wolfwood's calloused palms and sleep-soft voice would be there to bring him down from.

" ... I didn't mean it," he rasps, hardly more than a whisper. Finally, finally, one tear rolls out of the corner of his eye- and then another, and another, and another. His voice shakes. "I didn't mean it. Please say something. Anything. Please."

Some delusional part of him still hopes he'll get an answer. It never comes.

He still doesn't open his eyes- can't, can't bring himself to do it- but he turns, slowly, quaking, the old excuse for a couch creaking under his weight as he does so, and hides his face in the crook of Wolfwood's shoulder. It's still sun-warmed and heart-beat-warm too, still smells like dust and sweat and cigarettes and whiskey and Wolfwood, and if it weren't for the distinct lack of a pulse against his ear Vash could almost pretend he wasn't wrapping his arms around a corpse.

There's the soft sound of paper crumpling beneath his fingers as they curl into Wolfwood's lapel, white knuckled, as if they could drag him back. It feels awful, like an invasion of privacy of some sort, but Vash can't help himself, can't help but slide his fingers between bullet-riddled layers to tug it out. Anything, anything to keep seeing something new from him. To keep him in the present tense instead of placing him in the past.

It's hard to read; between the tears catching in his lashes, one eye still stubbornly hidden in Wolfwood's shoulder, and the holes blasted through it it's a wonder it's legible at all. But he knows Wolfwood's handwriting just as he knows the rest of him, and his hand shakes as it grasps the paper under his thumb.

ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪғ ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴏᴜʀ ᴇɴᴅ, ɪᴛ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴇ ʜᴀᴅ. ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴋɴᴏᴡ. ʙᴇ ᴡᴇʟʟ.

"Ah-- ah--" He's heaving, great breaths, rough, ragged, hitching things wracking his whole frame, every part of him shaking with the weight of grief, mouth falling open and ugly and desperate with his teeth bared and he sobs. Clenches the note in his fist, tightens his hold on this man who was no longer his, who'd finally managed those quiet, unsaid words and left Vash unable to tell him.

"I love you I love you I love you please get up Please--"

I need you.

Get up. Please get up.

That gaping maw in his chest just keeps growing, feels like it's swallowing him whole, and he knows it will never be filled again; this great ugly thing building without mercy beneath his ribcage, burning with agony and grief and fear. An empty nothing inside of him where something fundamental, visceral had been ripped away at the root. He sobs until he can't breathe, like some pathetic, wretched beast.

Time passes. He's not sure how much, suspended in a bubble of his own grief, keeping his face hidden there like a child hiding away from the monsters under the bed until it feels as though there are no more tears left in him to shed, until his body stops quaking like it's crumbling apart into dirt and rocks and nothingness. It's only been hours, but it feels like days, weeks, years already.

The suns are sitting low on the horizon. Soon it will be dark, and even those two merciless gods will not be able to see them.

Slowly, he straightens, finally looking at Wolfwood's face. It's damningly limp, dark eyes slipped closed for a final time, and Vash feels like his chest is concaving, imploding with the weight of seeing. Of it being real. There's no way around it, now.

Shakily, one hand finally comes up to smooth Wolfwood's bangs away from his eyes, his face. Dark skin stained with blood and dried tear tracks exposes itself beneath his fingertips, and Vash chokes on another pathetic little sob as his thumb does nothing to wipe any of it away. It just smudges there, like it's permanent, like it's saying look. This is all that will ever be left.

Vash kisses his cheek, their first and their last, and realizes that he will never know what it feels like to kiss him without lines of blood and grime marring his skin. Will never be held again without his body over taxed, heart stuttering and weak and dying. Will never have that low voice in his ear while he cries again, have it sooth away those horrors, will never feel that warmth as he's held again.

"I'll be back soon," Vash promises against his skin, voice thin and raw.

His hands shake with the weight of the shovel as he digs. Back and forth, back and forth, like some horrific metronome, entire body numb. When he's done the grave is shallow, but it's enough; he doesn't know if he would be able to pull himself back out of it if it were any deeper. If he'll even be able to at all.

The trek back feels like miles and miles. All he can look at is the black shape there, limp and unmoving.

Vash has to bury him, now.

He slips one arm under his back, the other beneath his knees, and lifts Wolfwood gently, carefully, trying to protect him from one last hurt he can't even feel, any more. He feels small, just this once, body cradled against Vash's own. His head rests against Vash's shoulder like he's only sleeping, like Vash is hauling him back to their hotel room after one too many drinks again, but there's no more warm breath to fan across his neck. No more grumbling about how he's fine, damn it.

Vash is trembling almost violently when he reaches the grave again, blindly tracing his footsteps in the sand. He lowers him slowly, only to join him. One last time, in a bed made of sand with a man who can't chase away the hurts, anymore. Vash presses his face into Wolfwood's neck and lies there, feeling like a part of him is dead now, too. Like it will lie in this grave forever, gripped tightly in hands that are not his.

It's dark, finally, when he crawls back out. When he hides Nicholas' body under the sand and the dirt, when he places the marker.

He's hungry.

It's after one in the morning and he's standing behind the club, a cigarette between his lips, eyes turned up to the sky. It had happened while he was in the middle of mixing someone's drink, the screens in the building lighting up with the images of flickering constellations. The voice filtered in not long after.

Wolfwood replays that recent memory back and sighs out smoke that drifts up into the night sky. He should start heading back soon, he just needed one more smoke before he caught the next late-night train back to Fibonacci. Things with Vash are still... tense, after the recent revelation having to do with their missing memories.

But there's a chance they're still floating out there; they'll be returned eventually.

Maybe.

He's just trying to decide if he should go back to his place or knock on the door of Vash's and hope he's still awake to let him in.

Something flickers past him, right out of the corner of his eye. A tiny shimmer of light that floats by, drifts right in front of the glowing cherry of his cigarette like some sort of little bug. Wolfwood blinks, plucking his dying cigarette out and stubbing it against the wall. He reaches out and snatches the data from the air with a complete lack of gentleness.

And then suddenly a headrush, everything spinning, and there's the smell of sand, blood, the sound of gunfire. He's in a desert among whirling chaos and howling voices. The setting is somehow brutally familiar, but these eyes are not his own.

@amoirsetpacis hi hihihihhihihihi

[1driedpersimmon]

don't know if you ever check the journal entries in the quest list but you should absolutely read them for the lv80 drk quest!! and if you read them in game be sure to be drk at the moment of reading, there's some lines that only show when you're drk

I've read them yes!! It's very good... rips my heart out ;;;

[autumnslance]

paladin talk derived- what would you have liked to see as ul'dah paladins or knights? aesthetics, oaths, lore, other stuff?

I've said before in my old post comparing various jobs (PLD, DRK) with the Oaths of 5e D&D that as they are, the Sultansworn fit the "Oath of the Crown" due to being primarily focused on their role as the Sultana's guards; they are there to be old school historical knightly guardians of the ruling family and their palace.

Oath of the Crown The Oath of the Crown is sworn to the ideals of civilization, be it the spirit of a nation, fealty to a sovereign, or service to a deity of law and rulership. The paladins who swear this oath dedicate themselves to serving society and, in particular, the laws that hold society together. These paladins are the watchful guardians on the walls, standing against the chaotic tides of barbarism that threaten to tear down all that civilization has built, and are commonly known as guardians, exemplars, or sentinels. Often, paladins who swear this oath are members of an order of knighthood in service to a nation or sovereign, and undergo their oath as part of their admission to the order's ranks.

So if we're sticking to fantasy style paladins with a hint of history nerding from the writers, this sort of thing suits them, really.

And honestly, what lore we get in ARR isn't bad; the quest story around it is boring, but the concepts, tenets, oaths, history? It could still work. Throw out the HW "job stones vying for dominance" nonsense, and again, don't forget they exist past the starting zone, and it'd be fine! The Sultansworn should be more a part of the messy politics of Ul'dah and involved in some of the central events, especially those in and around the palace and dealing with the Sultana. Where does the order fall during all these events? How many are actually loyal to Nanamo and Papashan? How many are swayed by the Syndicate and allow events to happen? We don't know, and that's one of my issues in how the story unfolded.

Cuz the Sultansworn that are locked to their positions like at the doors to the Fragrant Chamber, it's just...business as usual. And some of it is the shorthand, truncated allowance for story in a MMO environment, but a lot of it also feels like an oversight when plotting out events like a full on coup that puts the Sultana's life on the line and her personal guard are nowhere to be seen.

So where's the storyline about dealing with the fallout of ARR, of the Sultansworn picking up the pieces and rooting out traitors...OR, since we had an Ul'dah paladin story in ARR (mediocre as it is), then give us the Ishgardian one in HW to compare/contrast. Then, let them come together in the Stormblood chain (maybe still have it be a tournament), as the two different paladin orders from two different nations duke it out and eventually come to an accord on how they're more similar than they first appeared and want the same things in the end: the safety and security of their peoples and Eorzea as a whole.

As for aesthetics, the short answer: Dhalmekia in FF16 does a better job at invoking the culture and military (with an elite guardian order to boot) of a desert nation in their clothing/armor and weapons.

However, in original and rebuilt FF14 that's now over a decade old...

The armor we get for the AFs are lacking in religious iconography, but still feel very "traditional Fantasy Pan-European Holy Knight via video game physics" you'll find in any other RPG, either video or tabletop. This includes the first set, which is what we get from our Sultansworn trainer, even if the Player is a "Free Paladin". Like the Valor chest piece almost works in its underlying construction, but they throw that style of tabard and the ridic shoulder pads on top, and those gloves and boots. And a crown instead.

Several of the ARR AFs are taken from earlier games for their iconic looks, and I am not certain if I am missing other historical references in those gearsets, or if it's all simply rendering iconic game gear from earlier FFs into something that works in 14.

Part of the trouble to is all of the common outfits in ARR are, for the most part, real generic tunics, robes, and pants for everyone regardless of region. There's very little change in appearance for outfits across the realm regardless of whether one is in South Thanalan, La Noscea, or Coerthas. And looking at what 1.x material there is, it was pretty much the same. We have various turbans in game since ARR, but I'd like something a little less "generic fantasy armor" and acknowledging other forms...that we don't really get to see until we get some Eastern-themed outfits in HW, and then especially in Stormblood. For the most part, it's either full plate or chain. We've also had curved swords (scimitars, sabers) for awhile, why not make something like that, with a round shield, more the uniform of the Sultansworn, instead of a straight blade and kite shield?

I have a Watcher paladin in a D&D game where I ended up looking into Turkish folk styles and Earlier Ottoman armors for her gear. I've also recently (and this is going a little more into the Caucasus) gotten into traditional Georgian clothes, with the chokha worn by their soldiers developed from earlier century kaftans, as they sat at a crossroads of the trade routes.

Here is an unrolled thread about Crusade history (had to auto-translate) with some art and photographic examples of different periods and regions. Even when the historical Faris (from the idea of Furusiyya, which was a knightly code and concept in Arabic medieval times and like chivalry and knights in the West, started with who had horses) wore more metal armor, it was different from traditional European styles. But given the strictures on styles in 1.x and through 2.0, that really wasn't feasible.

For a huge part, I'm just real done with Pan-West-European fantasy, especially when a token effort is made to add varied regions, but it ends being just that: tokenism, and the rest doesn't take into account the actual environment they've created (which is why I say if you're going to make just another Euro-flavored knight order, stick them in the Euro-flavored knight zone). CU3's gotten better about that over time, especially as they've gotten more budget, more people, and better technology. Development marches on, but it really makes the gaps in early game noticeable, and I kinda hope (but don't expect) for some subtle swap outs and revisions to the generic early gear everyone in ARR zones are currently stuck with.

[pumpkinmagekupo]

So I was going through my old screenshots. I forgot about this from the drk quest line.

In my canon Mizuki lives in Ishgard and is adopted by Edmont. and married to Aymeric at a later date

So don't you worry papa Edmont! Mizuki will always return to Ishgard and her precious family.

Mizuki "I am going to make you so proud!"

And in the words of Stitch: it is little and broken but still good...

we can fix those issues.

[koukouture]

I have decided that I want to be obnoxious so I will be compiling all of my favorite Gposes in this post + context as to why I like it so much.

Also I miss gposing (I'm unsubscribed bc I need to focus on school rn)

This is one of my oldest screenshots from when I first managed to get Anamnesis working on the FFXIV free trial. I've had this idea of Elysia in her dragoon armor falling above Ishgard ala Spiderverse style and I actually tried to draw it once but ofc it kinda sucked ass and this screenshot turned out wayyyyy better. Might just be one of my favorite gposes of all time tbh. Anyways after taking this I kinda came up with a little headcanon that it's a rite of passage for new dragoons to jump off the top floor of the Vault and kind of parkour their way all the way down to the lowest point of Ishgard. So uhhh yeah dragoon supremacy.

I love this one a lot just by virtue of how unexpectedly hard this pose was for me? I has also just finished Stormblood when I started getting into Gpose so I was super Zenos pilled at the time. Anyways, this pose was really hard because a) I was still learning Anamnesis and b) you have no idea how hard it is to make this height different work even when Zenos is lying down 💀

This one was a part of a little photoshoot partially inspired by the hand scene in Perfect Blue where the stalker pretends to hold Mima in the palm of his hand except with my OCs- but it turned out I like the solo shot of Elysia better because idk man LOOK AT IT. The aura is unmatched. Simple composition but it's still so perfect.

These are from the same photoshoot and I'm really only including them because of how hard it was to line this up. But yeah anyways I think I did pretty good.

Uhhhh I really love the Royal Menagerie okay??? Anyways yeah once again just finished Stormblood and I thought Zenos and Elysia deserved a fight scene with a lot of sexual tension so these are like hypothetical shots of that.

AGAIN WITH THE ZENOS- Yeah so- I actually have a lot of more romantic/intimate shots but I feel like they never turn out quite as cinematic as my uhhh normal/more action based screenshots I guess? But I really love this one because the lighting and framing seems so intimate~ Also Zenos being almost reverent with his beast? Hell yeah

Okay I cropped this one that's how you KNOW it's good. What can I say? I really love dragoons. Also I was kind of stressing about this shot because I was worried that maybe Estinien's lance wouldn't be held the right way (I was using the dragoon victory pose) but thank god it was because look at this shot!!!! I have a couple more dynamic pictures where they're both on top of the statue of Haldrath but I think this one takes the cake. Also I captioned this shot "A legacy written in blue- Ishgard's Azure Dragoons" and idk I think that eats.

Okay this one was sooooo fucking hard to get mostly because Anamnesis doesn't let you spawn in actors like Brio does so in most cases you only have your player character, carbuncle, and maybe a training dummy if you're doing a photoshoot in duty finder mode. In the overworld I actually had to use NPCs as extra actors and that is NOT fun. I trailed to nail a more horror-esque vibe but idk maybe this could have benefitted from a little tweaking in Photoshop or a better shader preset because I could NOT find one I liked for this photoshoot. Obviously I love the DRK quests because who doesn't??? Don't worry, I have more DRK themed screenies to come

Oooo okay so this one is inspired by my Hellbound AU fanfic and tldr all you need to know is that Haurchefant is in the Heaven's Ward and DEDICATED to his wife. How dedicated? How about breaking his oath of celibacy and being ready to throw away his nation for her?

Once again super simple composition but immensely impactful. A general tip for taking screenshots in video games is to keep your character either in the center or closer to one of the corners of the frame AND NEVER OFF TO ONE SIDE KIND OF HOVERING IN THE MIDDLE (unless they are framed by something closer to the camera or if there's another character to help draw the gaze/balance the picture) Another things I guess for gpose specifically is to really think about the way your character's outfit will look in the environment. Do you want them to match or really stand out? I should probably make a post of dedicated gpose tips no? Anyways- I really love this one because she just looks so ominous lmao. Btw this is L'hamara! She's not a WoL OC but I still think about my lesbian bunny girl constantly.

Oh Zenos is here again. I promise I ship Elysia with other characters Zenos just has better screenshot potential. Yeah so I think Zenos should have skewered WoL Sephiroth style.

Mmmm okay I know I have a cropped version of this laying around somewhere but little known fact about me is that I LOVE Nier Automata so after I finished Shadowbringers before ANYTHING else I did the Nier raids STAT. The white haired girl is named Saji btw- she's my friend's OC and Elysia's (sometimes) girlfriend :)

God I wish I had nicer screenshots of my other WoL Xia but I don't think I have any cool ones :(. Anyways please perceive my stylish kitty cat daughter and her loser (affectionate) boyfriend. I don't really post about her and I should change that lmao- I keep thinking about how hard it would be on her as a literal teenager being the WoL. I need to do more stuff for her man.

Another cropped one so it bangs ofc. As you can see, I got some mods for Elysia which is really just using C+ to edit her face and hair bones a little lmao. I captioned this one "Hades could not help but hope- for he saw her in the folly of man" which I think is a BANGER fucking line. Something about WoL ultimately proving to him that sundered souls ARE a people worth living... it gets me man. Sometimes it just takes a girl that looks like your dead situationship from 12000 years ago to make you realize that all life is sacred. I will say though I do wish that there was a neat water shadow while in Amarot. I think there's one in other parts of the Tempest but don't quote me on that. I just wanna sell the underwater vibes sometimes yk?

Ugh these... I told you I had more DRK screenshots. This was actually for the entry of this glamour on Eorzea collection and obviously I took versions without the mod but come on man... my girl deserves her luscious long locks. Oh also yes you can pose shadow Esteem!!!! Search "Esteem" when you go to load in NPC appearance and they'll load in- just be careful because the smoke effect doesn't follow them once you've posed them so make sure to position them before you move any bones.

I didn't actually pose Elysia much or anything I just took this before I did the Zodiark trial lmao. I just think it's neat how he peaks between the beams of light almost like they're imprisoning him. I do wish I had changed Elysia's outfit tho because the only think you can really see is her sword while her dress blends in. I had a nice DRK winter glam for the expedition into Garlemald maybe I should have kept her in that.

Oooooh okay these two- The idea behind these two was Elysia and her co-tanks- and obviously Elysia is the off tank because DRK is a DPS job at this point.

Soooo this one is obviously more on the comedic side but this is 100% one of my favourite screenshots ESPECIALLY after adding the text box. Glorious. Imagine your older brother and your pseudo older brother figure fuck I would literally become homophobic too /j

[starlit-seadragon]

Day 3 - Tempest

Here comes the edge

Set during early Heavensward, the Warrior of Light -- presently a Dark Knight -- handles the stress of loss and heroics... somewhat poorly. A tempest of the heart.

Spoiler-ish for the DRK quest line

CW: mental instability, hurt no comfort, death

My FFXIV Write Masterpost here.

She stalked as a shadow through the night.

Though covered head to toe in chainmail, and with a sword as long as she was tall, she moved without sound through cobblestone streets. She had no destination, no path, no reason -- she merely walked and waited for the trouble to find her.

It always did.

Someone looking for a victim. A scapegoat. A lackey. A savior. Day or night, they harried her without cease. When they could see her face, she smiled.

They could not see her face now.

She had only wanted to help people. To make the world a little better. To ease the grief that clung to and through her bones like a mold. She hadn't asked for a spotlight or acclaim. She had not asked to be a hero. She had wanted a quiet life.

But no.

Heroes never rested.

Not even in their sleep.

Not even in their graves.

An Elezen man knelt before her, panting with the effort of holding himself upright.

"Strike me down, and you'll know the Fury's wrath," he spat. "No matter whether I live or die, the Inquisition will find you, heretic. Justice will be done."

She tilted her head to the side. The helmet obscured her face, but she wished for but a moment that it did not.

The better for him to see her smile.

"Aye, justice will be done," she echoed, raising her sword. "I will see to it."

Her sword sliced through the moonlight.

The city reeked of blood.