#Deny The Light To Bring Darkness|Shadowbringers

[thevikingwoman]

Fic Authors Self Rec

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the love ❤️

I was tagged by @myreia and @a-shakespearean-in-paris, thank you both! It's hard to pick favorites? (I cheated)

Tagging forward, and to anyone else who wants to!

@galadrieljones @redinkofshame @ubejamjar @roguelioness @galadae

@bearlytolerant @kittlesandbugs @ellstersmash @janzoo @coldshrugs

@gangrelslut @superfluouskeys @buttsonthebeach

- 1. The Lovers

FFXIV | Shadowbringers | Wol x Tansui | Explicit | 4310 words

After defeating the Rak'tika Lightwarden, Warrior of Light (& Darkness) finds time to teleport back to the source, yearning to see her lover again. Tansui is more than happy to see her again, and their need for each other is undeniable. However, after they come together, something weighs on Tansui's mind

This is one of my most recent fics, and I really love exploring both Meryta's and Tansui's POV in this one. I struggled getting it to where I wanted, but I'm so happy with where it ended up and some of the nuances I was able to get in here.

- 1.5 Passing Through

FFXIV | Stormblood patches | Wol x Tansui | Explicit | 4518 words

Warrior of Light Meryta Khatin, while helping Genbu with the Four Lords passes through Onokoro. She can't help checking in on a friend - and Meryta and Tansui can't deny the attraction between them.

Alright, I'm cheating and adding one more Meryta and Tansui fic. This one was the one that settled the idea I had for them in my mind, that made me think of them as ship - even if they're not there yet. I had such fun writing it, and I think it shows.

- 2. Choices

FFXIV | Shadowbringers | Wol | Gen | 736 words

After the reveal and failure of G'raha's plan, Meryta has a moment - angry, hurt, confused and falling apart

I love this little MSQ coda, it was so great to express the feeling about the whole plot, and how it felt to Meryta. I think I expressed her feelings and interiority so well, and put some great images in here.

- 3. Comfort

Dragon Age | Vampire AU | Solavellan | Explicit | 7107 words

"Brooding alone?” someone asks. A woman, an elf, leans on the bar next to him. Her red hair is up in a ponytail, displaying the tawny skin on her muscular back. She is wearing a shimmering white dress, only a scrap of fabric covering her back. “I am just here to enjoy a drink in peace,” he replies. She laughs, eyes sparkling and lighting up her face. Her lips are painted bold red, and he notices her vallaslin, a dull olive covering the right side of her face. Dalish, then. Not many clans do that anymore. “No one comes here to drink in peace,” she says. “Iwyn Lavellan.” She holds out her hand, and he has to take it, bringing it to his lips in a kiss. Later, he blames the alcohol, or her sparkling the eyes, or the way the dress barely covers her ass. “Solas. Pleased to meet you.”

Probably my favorite AU. I love the little plot, I love the world, I love the dynamic between them. I love writing Iwyn as the immortal. I love the images and descriptions I wrote - and he smut is pretty good too!

- 4. Home

Uprooted (Naomi Novik) | post-book | Agnieszka/ Sarkan | Teen | 2175 words

He misses her, just not more than he fears belonging.

This is probably the favorite fic I have ever written. I think I hit the mood of the book so well, and managed to make a believable continuation. I just think this one flows so well and I'm very proud of it.

- 5. Temerity

Dragon Age | post Inquistion | Solavellan | Explicit | 10728 words

Iwyn Lavellan is doing all that she can to stay one step ahead of Solas, opposing him after he reveals his plans. When she runs into her former lover in an abandoned ruin, they start a tenuous and dangerous dance. They can't help but being drawn to each other, no matter how harsh the flames of love or hate will burn them.

I love this one for so many reasons. Though not Iwyn and Solas canon (in my head) reunion, I love the darkness of this, and the way they're messed up. I'm so proud of myself for going there and writing this and putting it out in the world. I love some of the metaphors, I love the intensity. And I love the open ending I left; do they spiral or do they make it through?

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

Song 5!

"One brings shadow, one brings light One more chapter we've yet to write Want for nothing, nothing denied Wand'ring ended, futures aligned One brings shadow, one brings light" -Shadowbringers by Soken

Carly and Stasia

This is my last one of these and its of the iconic song of the expansion of the same name! I have a dark knight lady and a queen that has the white aesthetic how could I resist? Hope this satisfies you all! Some close ups of the girls and Carly's Esteem!

[minti-tales]

FFXIV Write, Day 15: Portentous

Hey gang, there be Shadowbringers spoilers ahead.

CW: Mental health, Mental corruption, Body corruption, Death.

Please take care of yourselves.

There would be no denying it now - Emet-Selch had won. The drama he had so carefully orchestrated from the shadows was, in his mind, perfection. The arrival of Azem on The First, his on stage appearances with them (changed so dramatically as they were in recent days), the confrontation with the last Lightwarden atop Mount Gulg, the defeat of the courageous Crystal Exarch right when those “Scions” thought themselves victorious. Not even Hythlodaeus could have approved such a perfect idea. The beauty in Azem’s defeat was undeniable! And now, all he had to do was sit back, relax, and watch the so-called “Warrior of Darkness'' tear themselves apart.

This total corruption of the Self, the True Beginning  of the End, would be one last performance, to be enjoyed at Emet’s leisure by the Inn at Journey’s Head, at the tip of the Amh Araeng desert. His fellow artist requested time alone to come to terms with their failure - another self-imposed exile, if Emet understood this incarnation’s history correctly. Knowledge of a creator’s upbringing, as you know, is one way to gain valuable insight into the things they bring into the world. 

Ah, and would you look there, just up by the derrick once used to bring oil from deep within the bowels of this imperfect world. “Our hero approaches the dais, defeated and alone. Observe their hunched shoulders, their simple robes, greatsword dragging at their feet. I can practically see the light ready to spill out from their throat. Time is running out for you, old friend. It won’t be long now. The transformation, as I understand it, is swift. How unfortunate - I could watch you suffer forever.” There was some small part of Emet that yearned to be by Azem’s side in this moment so they could more fully understand their part in the Rejoining, but no, the portentousness would be ruined. Better to wait and watch.

He always thought rabbit ears were a bit much, for an incarnation.

---

(Minti) Are we close? I can’t see anymore. I can feel…sand. It’s hot.

(The Artist) A little more walking, and we’ll be there. We made plans back at the Crystarium, remember? We were ready for this. I even remember the words Shtola taught us, in the event you don’t. If all works out, we’ll be sent back to the Lifestream, and someone on The Source will fetch us - hopefully. 

This place is going to look very different once our friends bomb it into the next Era, that’s certain. We have to make sure that no Wardens or sin eaters come out of what’s left of us. Now, up the ladder. Yes, that’s it.

Minti, fallen Warrior of Light and Darkness, clung to the side of the derrick’s wooden railing. After her battle with Innocence, the last Lightwarden, it was very hard to move, or look around, or really use what was left of her senses. What wasn’t a burning white light was her body telling her, again and again, that it was failing. We are in pain and we don’t understand why. Make it stop. She could feel the bones in her back trying to move themselves, to shift into something more befitting a creature of Light. Just like Tesleen, all that time ago. Poor thing couldn’t stop the tide of Light anymore than Minti.

The voices in her Choir were fading, too, along with Ardbert. Fray - the Knightly Mother - and The Artist were the only two left, aside from a new voice calling themself The Oracle. That one was growing in strength, getting louder and more insistent on taking its place foremost in Minti’s mind. Not too much longer now.

(Knightly Mother) Your heart is failing, and damn it all, I can’t make it right. I know you want to sleep, but I want you to stay awake long enough to feel something. 

(Minti) Feel what?

(Knightly Mother) Put out your hand.

Minti’s outstretched hand was met with another’s, as cold as the winds coming in from the Western Highlands.

(Minti) How…?

(Knightly Mother) One last gift, from someone who cared deeply for you, since the day they rescued you and brought you in from the cold. I am with you until the End. Would you like to hear a story?

The Oracle’s song was so loud now. Minti could feel little else - it took everything she had to focus on the Mother.

A bedtime story would be a good thing to listen to, in these last moments before Light consumed all.

(Knightly Mother) Once upon a time, as many stories begin, there once lived a rava viera, a rabbit person, in the faraway land of Eorzea…

[cloudofdarkness]

His Own Echoes

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning Major Character Death

Category: M/M

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV

Relationships:

G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light

Hythlodaeus/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)

Characters:

G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch

Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)

Hythlodaeus (Final Fantasy XIV)

14th Member of the Convocation of Fourteen (Final Fantasy XIV)

Additional Tags:

Angst

Shadowbringers Spoilers

u ever just sad that you keep losing your lover through every reincarnation

Language:English

Words:1,049

Summary:  This was a quicker, shorter one but have some angst??? We love rewriting a scene to be sadder and gayer

As the final beast was felled and the Scions stood triumphant against an apocalyptic Amaurot, the Warrior of Darkness couldn’t help but sense something off. Everything surrounding them was merely a conjured illusion, sure, but something more pricked at the back of his neck like the smallest of bites from a spider.

The Scions took to exploring the ruins carefully, and as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t help but find himself being pulled, ushered in a certain direction, as if he’d walked this road before, seen the horrors in front of him. It was familiar, wasn't it? Don’t deny it. He wouldn’t want you to.

A small, side path took him away from his team, and he turned to look over the burning world orbiting below him. He wondered then, how many times the Source had suffered the same damage. He’d been barely present for one calamity, he dared not think of another, greater one. It wasn’t as if he didn’t consider the plight Amaurot had gone through, he felt every world was worth saving, but what was gone was gone. He couldn’t sympathize with Emet-Selch in the way that he wanted nothing more than to destroy this shard, as well as every other to renew what was lost. If some part of the warrior had been present during all of this, he certainly would hope he’d have looked past their dying world for the better.

“You seem troubled, my friend. Are we not putting an end to this, as we promised?”

There was no one around for those words to be spoken.

The Warrior’s ear flickered, stopping his trek down the path to look around for any straggling illusions, but nothing came up. Was this another trick of the Ascian? Or was it another sign that he was losing himself to the light? Either way, he had to ignore it.

“Oh, do not worry about me. My eyes feign melancholy, but I could not be more relieved that we should be bringing such hurt to an end. I only regret it had to come to this.”

Another voice, an almost familiar one rang to his ears- no- echoed around him as if the two speaking were simply out of reach.

This had to be an illusion.

He was growing too far from the Scions, too far into the destruction that was Amaurot. He would deny the fear building in his chest, only because it was overridden with curiosity. This was the ascian’s doing, it had to be.

His eyes returned to the path in front of him, observing the cobblestone turning crystalline, it’s deep shade of violet glowing almost serene and natural beneath his feet. Somehow, he felt away from his worries, as if he wasn’t himself in that moment. The burning heat of light in his chest felt numbed and somehow the world around him seemed...natural. Familiar.

And then he stopped in his tracks.

His chest hitched with a sharp inhale, but the sight of the body just yalms away from him stole his breath just as quickly.

He hardly had time to register it’s lack of movement. And his voice rose out of him in a terrified scream.

“Hythlodaeus!”

It was, and wasn’t his voice, and it confused him ever more. He had meant to speak another name, but he hadn’t even noticed the misspoken words, nor did he care. He rushed to the body’s side, his hand shoving itself under his robes and carefully moving him into his arms.

The Exarch was stiff, cold, motionless- practically a dolly in his arms. His head fell limp against his chest as he pulled him in, and he looked as if he were simply sleeping.

“...Raha…?”

The warrior’s voice cracked under his held back cries, searching his face for any sign of a response, any hope that Emet-Selch hadn’t taken what was left of him. Please gods let it not come to this. He was so bloodied and bruised, a gash on his head and at the corner of his lip, and who knew where else...beaten within an inch of his life, mayhap all of it.

His hand came to cup his cheek, thumb gently brushing the crystal coating his jawline and spiking under his eye. This had to be a trick. This couldn’t be real, not after everything they’d suffered. “Raha...please...please wake up...I can’t lose you now…”

A shaky hand ran itself through faded pink hair, brushing the stray strands from his face, now growing cold with the call of passing. His lover cradled him on the brink of their ruined world. Fires burned and buildings were torn asunder around them, but all that was heard were the gentle sobs of the bringer of light as they held their dear friend in hopes that they would awake once more.

There was little hope in it. He had given himself to save their world. To save those they had lost, that they had loved. Why then, did they still exist in this destruction? Did the light not deem him worthy?! He was worth more than anyone had told him. Why was he denied this now?

“Hythlodaeus...my love, you shall not be forgotten...your actions shall forever scar my heart and I will wear it proudly, I swear!” The light bringer, no longer the 14th, could barely croak their promise through the tears, but he would have him hear his promises. His story would not go untold. “I promise you, you shall be remembered…that I would never be without you.”

The warriors eyes fluttered open, and is if it were a calling, the hand pressed against the Exarch’s back felt the smallest of inhales. It was weak, but thank the gods he was still breathing. He hadn’t noticed the tears of relief flowing freely from his eyes until he watched them drip onto the injured miqo’te’s face. Emet-Selch did this to him, but he would not suffer another ill-willed finger on him. As long as the ascian remained and the light inside of him burned, not another soul would come near the Exarch. He would not lose him again.

He stood then, with him in his arms, and dutifully returned to the Scions.

That he wouldn’t never be without him.

[sezja]

Febuwhump Day 27: Survivor's Guilt Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Characters/Ship: Nerise & Ardbert Triggers/Content warnings: Shadowbringers spoilers

"I thought you were lying, you know."

Nerise is getting used to these little intrusions on her privacy; she supposes Ardbert's got nothing better to do. Haunting sounds dull. Given the chance, she can't deny she'd follow around the only person who could see and hear her, too. Still, it's been a long damn day - what with bringing the entire night sky back to Lakeland and the Crystarium and all - and she'd just as soon get some sleep...

With a sigh, she rolls back over, facing the ghost in her room.

He stands at the window, as she knew he would. She's left it open, the better to let in the dark. Overhead, the sky is clear as can be, alight with the gentle twinkling of stars instead of the blaze of eternal primordial Light. I did that, she thinks, marveling at it all over again. I did that...

"Lying," she repeats, sitting up. She doesn't bother to cover up; if he wants modesty, the sneaky lurker can go someplace else. "About where I came from, you mean?"

"When you came from." He starts to turn around, and realizes she's not dressed; he turns back to the window. His ears start to turn pink. "Ah-" He clears his throat. "We... we thought it was an act, all of us. As though we had room to talk, eh? Hailing from another world as we did. What's a thousand some-odd years?"

A thousand some-odd years. An entire war had been waged while she and Sohl Amh were adrift in time.

She rubs her drowsy eyes. "Aye, well. Stupid thing to lie about, isn't it?"

"Adventurers lie about their achievements and backgrounds every day," Ardbert points out, a wry smile in his voice. "Inflating their achievements to win free drinks at the pub. Lying about where they're from to charm a girl into a dance. It's part of the business, isn't it?"

"Is it?"

"For some." He turns again, keeping his eyes resolutely on her face. "Then again, you already had a dragon at your beck and call, eh? Maybe you never needed to tell tall tales - the ones you were living couldn't get much taller."

She thinks of Sohl Amh with a pang; leaving them behind on the Source had been like leaving her heart behind. They would have loved it here... and she would have liked to have their counsel; there is so much about this world she wishes she could speak to her life-long companion about-

The smile on Ardbert's weary face fades. "Did I say something wrong?"

Damn it all. "No." Nerise hesitates. Milla once said it was easier to speak truths at night; the shadows kept secrets well. And who's Ardbert going to tell, anyway? She's sick to death of trying to be strong here, with no Sohl Amh to hear her doubts and fears and questions. She takes a deep breath. Sighs. "It... this world, it..."

He waits. He's had a hundred years of blind, ceaseless wandering to temper his impulsiveness; he can wait a few minutes while she gathers her thoughts.

At last, she manages, "It... reminds me of Dravania, a bit."

"Dravania," he repeats, surprised. "How so?"

She stands, wrapping a blanket around herself against the night's chill, and joins him at the window. "It's... all these ruins, all these lingering traces of a glorious past. You... you remember when those ruins at Laxan Loft were a thriving kingdom-"

"Ah."

"And even this place - the Crystarium? It's built on old bones, like... like Bahrr Lehs, restored by the moogles. You look at those ruins, and all you see is... is-"

"Is what I failed to save."

"Is what you failed to save." She thumps a fist on the windowsill, throat tight. "And it's like that everywhere, isn't it? Everywhere we go, we'll find old cities you weren't there to save, and you'll remember the people who were there..."

Milla...

Ardbert can't touch her, of course, but he rests his own fist on the windowsill beside hers. "As I understand it," he says, quietly. "The world as you knew it came to an end a hundred years or so after you vanished. Time and more for you to have been dead and gone, Nerise. I was here. I caused this world's destruction."

"There might have been something I could have done," she persists. "Something I could have done to change the course of history. Something."

He's quiet, letting her simmer in it. She leans forward, resting her forehead against her fist. She doesn't godsdamned want to be comforted; she wants him to see why this world and everything about it burns her worse than dragonfire. It's like breathing life back into a corpse. But if she doesn't do all she can to beat back the Light... well. She remembers Urianger's vision. She, her friends, even Sohl Amh, extinguished like so many candles, and the world gone dark in their absence.

Saint Shiva, preserve me.

She straightens, heaving a heavy sigh. "Maybe I can change the course of the future here, at least."

But when she turns, Ardbert has vanished, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

[lululeighwrites]

Week 3 — Clatter

characters: kalyna orben (warrior of light), emet-selch

setting: ffxiv shadowbringers, end of the main story quest (there are very obvious spoilers!)

Between the all-consuming darkness and the blinding light distorting their senses, Kalyna cannot recall when they had lost their grip on the axe that belonged to the Hero of the First. They blink a few times as their world stops spinning, locating the marauder’s arm more than a good arm’s throw away on the other side of the platform.

Now, its toe stands wedged in the ground, the weapon visible through the jagged cavity its light-suffused power carved in Emet-Selch’s abdomen.

No, it was their combined power—Ardbert’s and theirs, and whoever else dwelt inside them, both now and once upon a time—that had wrought such a blow. The Warrior of Light hailing from the Source had silenced his dying gasp; this they could not deny, despite the wailing sorrow that echoed from a voice deep within their rejoined souls.

Kalyna does not remember when their greatsword had returned to their grasp. It quickly meets the ground with a clatter as they rush forward on wobbly knees, one word uttered—a name—on a shaky breath as they collapse into the Ascian’s welcoming yet slowly dissipating embrace.

“H-Hades—”

“I know,” he comforts, hands resting on the armour plating of their back. Kalyna sobs a little harder into his cowled shoulder, for now they understand: countless times has Emet-Selch lamented the same, mourning the loss of numerous dear family, friends, and loved ones that had been sacrificed to achieve the plan he so desperately believed would save them.

“It hurts,” they choke out, pained whimpers muffled into his form which feels less and less solid by the heartbreaking second. As fragile as he is, they cannot bring themself to pull away, forehead pressing against the spot with an almost stubbornness where they know his clavicle lies underneath as the edges of their horns dig in on either side. 

Kalyna sputters those words a second time, gauntlets finding the back of his cloak and clinging with all their might. The very fibers of their being hurt, aching like charred firewood that has no fuel left to burn. They had harboured all that light for much too long, and it hurts—maims them over and over again like a dull blade as they remember what it looked like to expel it from their body to pierce his monstrous form.

Maybe it’s only fair—Kalyna thinks—to share this pain. Hydaelyn’s champion, eight times rejoined now, and Zodiark’s tempered vessel. That which is, and that which was. The light, and the dark, foolishly desperate to momentarily coalesce despite existing at opposite ends of the balance.

Three times it has happened now. The first Kalyna does not remember well, given that their mind had been consumed with a ravenous and putrid hunger for aether. The second haunts their vision each time they blink away their tears; they collect in the corners of their eyes for as long as Kalyna can bear, wishing to relive that moment when they smote him as seldom as possible.

And the third—

“Look at me,” Emet whispers, uttered with none of the scorn that had laced his voice before. Had he more strength remaining, he may have permitted himself to quip that they ruined his garments a second time as they wiped the fluids leaking from their face on the fabric. 

Instead, he guides them closer, one hand resting on the back of their neck as their lips meet for a final time. Kalyna notices how much straighter he stands now as they rise higher on their tiptoes, his shoulders no longer forced to carry the monumental burden he has donned for millennia. 

It’s then that his cowl falls free, knocked out of place and revealing just how fatigued he is.

He has not much time left remaining.

to be continued

divider by saradika

[maskedmuses]

Send “New Years Kiss” to give my muse a kiss at midnight on New Year’s Eve || Selectively accepting

@aprisatm​​ asked: New Years Kiss' estinien is here for ysayle 

“There isn’t anything wrong with being around people, you know.”

The pert tone played across her lips as she leaned over the edge of the stone half wall that acted as barrier from the lofty spot and the sheer drop below. One might think her to be fearful of heights after everything that had occurred, but Estinien favored the high reaches of Ishgard, and Ysayle would follow, abandoning fear at the entrance.

Her gaze scrutinized him, icy optics soaking every part of him that she was certain would prefer to be back out onto the road, far from the city that harbored both good and ill memories for the man. His tension nearly palpable while in a location he could relax, below them were a myriad of citizens of Ishgard that awaited the tolls of Heavenstrun to begin. This was a home that they could return to, and forgiveness offered without ask, but it still made them both wish to plunge into the reaches of the snow and vanish.

But with their growing family, such a thing could not be possible forever.

“But I understand where your hesitance stems from.” She placed her hand upon his, her lips quelling in their beam some as she stroked her thumb along the back of his hand. “Even I can find it difficult. Perhaps a resolution is in order.” Ysayle turned towards the man, her free hand coming to rest on her slightly swollen stomach.

“Not for me, but for the future. One that we both wished would come to fruition.” Her gaze cemented on his own, and to ensure he continued to look upon her, her fingers drifted away from belly and hand, coming to rest upon his cheeks and pull him in closer to her. “Let’s just try to be good and present for once.” Meant for both of them, but leaning towards a wish for him to stay. No longer to be the lone Azure Dragoon.

A small chant below, Ysayle paid it no mind as she offered a small huff, her breath blooming in the cold. The edge of a crinkle at her eyes gave away her mirth as she leaned in, a mere clipped whisper against his lips as the cheers began to ring out, the new year striking upon the midnight bell. Her lips pressed wholly against his own, ensuring that no ill words could deny what she had uttered from his saucy tongue.

“No matter where you go, my love is always with you, Estinien.”

[bringsruin]

shadowbringers lyrics from the lyrical tracks in the expansion of final fantasy xiv. maybe not all of them, but my favorites. 

what angel wakes me

❝Yet with each descent do we rise again to our hearts' content.❞ ❝Fly away my friend for a day and then, we'll begin again.❞ ❝Along in the night, joyous cries ring free.❞ ❝Do you love me not?❞ ❝Follow these petals cast aloft.❞ ❝Will you, when I'm gone, remember me?❞ ❝Braving anything together.❞ ❝Learn to play our part.❞ ❝Navigate the dark.❞ ❝Up we reach, catch a falling star.❞ ❝For we'll all be kings tomorrow.❞ ❝Sing in our sweet lullaby.❞ ❝Time wilts and fades.❞ ❝Luster lost in the rain.❞

who brings shadow

❝ One brings shadow, one brings light. ❞ ❝ One dark future no one survives. ❞ ❝ The road that we walk is lost in the flood. ❞ ❝ Here proud angels bathe in their wages of blood. ❞ ❝ At this, the world's end, do we cast off tomorrow! ❞ ❝To this riddle all souls are tied. ❞ ❝ Brief our moments, brazen and bright. ❞ ❝ Sating honor, envy, and pride. ❞ ❝ Run from the light. ❞ ❝ Authors of our fates orchestrate our fall from grace! ❞ ❝ Poorest players on the stage! ❞ ❝ Our defiance drives us straight to the edge! ❞ ❝ A reflection in the glass, recollections of our past! ❞ ❝ Far beyond this dream of paradise lost! ❞ ❝ Riding home... ❞ ❝ Dying hope... ❞ ❝ Hold onto hope... ❞ ❝ One more chapter we've yet to write. ❞ ❝Want for nothing, nothing denied. ❞ ❝We fall unto the end! ❞ ❝We won't end! ❞

tomorrow and tomorrow

❝The days of our years gone. ❞ ❝Our souls soaked in sin. ❞ ❝These memories ache with the weight of tomorrow. ❞ ❝Who fights? Who flies? Who falls? ❞ ❝Stand tall, my friend. ❞ ❝May all of the dark lost inside you find light again. ❞ ❝In time tumbling, turning we seek amends. ❞ ❝Our journey will never end! ❞ ❝A prayer to keep us ever by your side.❞ ❝An undying promise that we just might carry on in a song. ❞ ❝Pray don't forget us, your bygone kin. ❞ ❝With one world's end does a new begin. ❞ ❝And should our souls scatter unto the wind. still we shall live on. ❞ ❝Eternal winds from the land ascend. Here to lift us that we won't end. ❞

return to oblivion

❝Too weary to die. ❞ ❝Too lost to the ice for saving. ❞ ❝My sins claim me, untame me. ❞ ❝Broken, faded, how long have I waited to open my wings? ❞ ❝Turn the light on and let her in. ❞ ❝Won't you turn the light on? ❞ ❝You'll never win 'less you turn the light on. ❞ ❝The pain won't end 'till you turn the light on. ❞ ❝The soul longs for oblivion! ❞ ❝Falling too far for the fear to embrace me. ❞ ❝A voice from the past screaming there is no end. ❞ ❝A slave to my fate, ever doomed to repeat this. ❞ ❝A slave to my fate, ever doomed to repeat this. again and again and again and again. ❞ ❝No it won't overtake me. ❞ ❝No more goodbyes, though my heart is still aching. ❞ ❝One more time, here I come! ❞ ❝Reason resigned. ❞ ❝Spring's promise of sun is honored when winter's weighed down on us. ❞ ❝Clear as diamond, yet fragile as ice. ❞ ❝My heart is racing! ❞ ❝No more goodbyes, I am tired of waiting. ❞

to the edge

❝All our splendour bathed black in silence. ❞ ❝Our surrender a sombre reverie. ❞ ❝Left to sifting through faded memories. ❞ ❝Know our places, for worth is wordless. ❞ ❝Stay this descent to madness. ❞ ❝Come and save us. ❞ ❝Catch us before we fall! ❞ ❝Don't lose hope. ❞ ❝Like broken angels, wingless, cast from heavens' gates. ❞ ❝Our slumbering demons awake. ❞ ❝We only fly when falling far from grace. ❞ ❝Hell take us, heaven can wait. ❞ ❝Our lives a message in a bottle cast to sea. ❞ ❝Quick to their ends, our candles burn until we're free. ❞ ❝In monochrome melodies, our tears are painted in red. ❞ ❝Deep inside we're nothing more than scions and sinners! ❞ ❝In the rain do light and darkness fade! ❞ ❝Yes, time circles endlessly. ❞ ❝The hands of fate trained ahead. ❞ ❝All things change, drawn to the flame to rise from the ashes! ❞ ❝To begin, we first must see the end! ❞ ❝Rock of ages, we cast the first stone. ❞ ❝In our cages, we know not what we do. ❞ ❝Indecision here at the crossroads. ❞ ❝Recognition, tomorrow's come too soon. ❞ ❝Follow blindly like lambs to slaughter. ❞ ❝We're forgotten for now and evermore. ❞ ❝Without a compass wandering lost in lies of faith. ❞ ❝Faith slowly wasting away. ❞ ❝On hands and knees we pray to gods we've never seen. ❞ ❝Come shadow, come follow me! ❞ ❝The final hour upon us, no more time to breathe. ❞ ❝Tonight our time is nigh!  ❞

[crystalbahamut]

become the night

FFXIV Write Day 6: Avatar

Summary: Eulmore has captured its most hated villain. If they want you to be the Warrior of Darkness so badly, then perhaps you will oblige them.

Author’s note: AU thing (I guess?) where WoL is captured by Eulmore having defeated maybe two or three Lightwardens? I’m not sure. Also it’s definitely more AUish in that WoL can better channel the power of the light. I just like the idea of using the dark to filter it– sort of moon-like. I don’t know where this came from but it felt like a neat idea, even if I could only manage a small snippet of what feels like could be a larger whole.

Warnings: Shadowbringers spoilers, some violence, unspecified/ambiguous WoL/D, not dark knight main but dips into it, playing a little bit loose with aether/magic abilities

Words: 1,469

---

“Is the food not to your liking?”

Vauthry is a disgusting man taking advantage of people within and without his city and yet treating you to a saccharine tone like an honored dinner guest. And, as a most exceptional dinner guest, you are sat next to General Ran’jit and attended by no less than eight guards with various sharp objects just waiting for you to breathe wrong.

The situation doesn’t tend to work up much of an appetite.

“I don’t eat food prepared by people I don’t trust,” you say.

“Oh come now. If I wanted you dead, you already would be,” Vauthry says and takes a long swig of his wine.

He would think that. But if you hadn't had to sacrifice yourself to keep Ran’jit from getting Minfilia, you wouldn’t be here, and you know that. “Why am I alive then?” you ask. “I loathe you and I’m fairly certain the feeling must be mutual, given how far you’ve gone to keep me from killing the other monsters blighting this world.”

“No no no,” he says and sets his goblet aside. “You are simply…misguided. The Crystal Exarch has been feeding you lies and false promises, but I will teach you the truth. Here, have some wine; it will relax you.”

“No thank you,” you say, words clipped as you remember the last time you had a glass. Trauma aside, if someone wanted to poison Vauthry, you don’t think you’d mind.

“Stubborn.” His voice is barely raised but he slams a hand upon the table, making everything on it jump. “How will it serve you to deny me? You are here whether you like it or not; if you submitted to me I would make you a citizen of this city. Do you have any idea what people are willing to do for such an honor?”

“I do,” you say. “And if they truly knew what they were walking into you would be left with no sacrifices to your petulant temper.”

He stares at you for several moments– potentially you used too many big words– before he bears his teeth, shouts, and slams his fist against the table a few more times before grabbing a meol loaf and thrusting it at your face. “I’ve had enough– eat!”

You lean back but he presses forward. “Eat, damn you!” he says and pushes it against your face as you can lean away no more with hands holding you in place. You turn your head to get away from the bread that the light inside you reacts to. You don’t know what that means but it feels wrong in a way that turns your insides. However Vauthry is bearing down on you and he reaches in with his other hand to hold your nose.

So you oblige him.

Your teeth sink in to the base of his thumb and he howls. His flesh is pale, putrid, spongy…

…sickeningly familiar.

He rips himself away, leaving you with a tainted taste of sour blood just before the guard rips you out of your chair, slams you to the ground, and descends upon you.

By the end of their assault you wouldn’t claim to have much dignity left, bleeding on the floor as you are, but Vauthry is still whimpering about his bandaged hand so by comparison you’d say you’re doing all right.

There’s a knock on the door and Vauthry composes himself. “What is it!” he barks.

The door opens. “M-my lord,” the servant whimpers. “The- the Crystal Exarch is at the gates. In his words he demands an audience with you, to speak of the wrongful imprisonment of his warrior– his words, not mine!”

“Feh.” Vauthry sneers down at you. You let your eyes close and continue to steel yourself for what is to come. “I’m half-tempted to throw you from an airship and watch you break at his feet. But you may be of use yet. You– bind and bring them. You– tell the guard the Crystal Exarch is hereby an enemy of Eulmore and is to be executed on sight.”

The servant confirms his orders in the most simpering way possible and Ran’jit, finally, speaks up. “My lord, we need not truly negotiate, but we could make him return Minfili–”

“I don’t care about the girl,” Vauthry spits out. And then literally spits. “We have the Warrior of Darkness and the Crystal Exarch’s futile plans will never succeed without them. The girl will fight and die like all the others and a new one will be born. You can have the next reincarnation; the current one is too much trouble.”

“…My lord,” Ran’jit says, somehow deferential and seething with rage both.

As your hands are chained behind your back you feel a familiar calm settle into your bones and seep through your blood. Warrior of Darkness indeed. For a while the title didn’t feel right; you were a Warrior of Light taking the power of the light and everything about you felt too bright and burning. The Warrior of Darkness was a convenient title– a children’s story, a religious figure, and you felt sacrilegious ever even thinking about taking the mantle.

But now. Now the light is dimming as you allow an old friend back into the shadows of your mind and you feel yourself deaden to the world with only Fray’s echoing chuckle in your ear, even as you are dragged to your feet and paraded out to a terrified populace. Vauthry speaks to his people to– inspire them? Cow them? You aren’t truly paying attention. Not until he turns to you and asks, “And what would you say for yourself, villain?”

You look amongst the crowd, making sure not to linger on familiar faces. They don’t feel wrong, they don’t feel deserving of your wrath, and so this is not the place to make your stand. And you’re not a politician. Not an inspired speaker. However the things you have been through have given you just enough experience to know how to stir people. For better or for worse.

“Night is coming whether you like it or not,” you say. A little pull, a little pitch-black glamour, and all across the room you drape all the aether you can muster to…‘turn off the lights,’ so to speak. There are a few shrieks and shouts, and a chorus of gasps– even from Vauthry himself. You look right at him. “So you had best get used to the dark.”

---

“By the Twelve, you’re a right mess.”

You crack open one eye. The other one is too swollen to budge. “Thancred?” you ask with a throat too dry to nearly speak. “What are you doing here?”

He scoffs and starts picking open one of the manacles. This is unexpected– and entirely too soon; you haven’t yet healed enough from the last beating to carry out your plans. “I got in here once already; you can’t think they’d keep me out now?” There’s a clicking sound and Thancred works with more careful motions. “I’ve simply been awaiting my opportunity. Nice little lightshow, by the way; it–”

“Thancred, did you find–” Alphinaud’s gasp is joined by another and both twins exclaim your name.

“I’m all right,” you say as Alphinaud’s healing magic begins to settle into you. It prickles, but after a few moments you can blink open both your eyes, and open and close your now-free fist. Perhaps everything can go ahead as planned.

Alisaie watches you sharply, and when you’re unshackled and healed up enough to start walking towards a collection of old weaponry, she says your name warily. “We should go.”

“Not yet. There’s something I have to do,” you say and dig through the pile until you find a greatsword.

“My friend you are barely healed,” Thancred says and holds out his hands. “We must return to the Crystarium and regroup.”

“We won’t get a chance like this again.” You give the sword a few swings. It’s far from perfect, but it will do. Until you find a guard with a better one. You turn towards your friends. “You don’t have to come with me.”

They look like they might refuse. Thancred looks like he might try to bash you over the head and just steal away, but whether he relents because he wants to or because he senses he can’t win, you aren’t sure. Either way he shrugs and smiles. “Very well,” he says. “Just answer me honestly, my friend– are you certain you feel well enough for this?”

“Yes. In fact…” You turn towards them, light pulsing beneath your skin and ready to be unleashed with the darkness already gathering. Stars and moonlight, there is a place for it, and you will show it where to go. “For the first time, I feel right.”

[ffxiv-ariavitali]

homesick [hohm-sik]: adjective "sad or depressed from a longing for home or family while away from them for a long time."

Writing prompt: mal du pays

Time period: Shadowbringers

Word count: 594

AO3 ver.

❅ ❅ ❅

There would be little moments every now and then, ones that she would acknowledge the minute that she begins experiencing it. It was a cold emptiness eating away at her like winter, a starved beast denied food for disobedience, an ache that only got worse over time rather than healed.

Aria would be reminded when she would see couples going about their day, when parents would dote on their younglings in the city states. She never held anything against them, for it is they to which she fights so fervently on the front line.

(To preserve the smiles of the people of the realm was her ultimate goal. Although it took her a while to reach that point and be confident of her decision, needless to say that it befits her status as the Warrior of Light.)

However, as much as the citizens would otherwise, she missed the gentle snowfall and grey clouds. She missed the crackling of firewood burning in a hearth and the hot chocolate that would be prepared the moment she would step through the front door.

Most of all, she missed the people that she had to leave behind—the family that had taken her in when she and hers needed them most, her brother that could only pray for her safety and do what he can with the Scions left behind...and a lover that had responsibilities just as important as she to attend to.

Aria knew that Aymeric accepted this of her the moment he had asked her to be his. In fact, the second that he discovered that it was the Warrior of Light—and all her titles that could fill a ledger all on its own—that he had fallen for, he should have come to expect it. It didn’t stop the guilt from shaming her and a part of her wondered if she should cut back on her adventuring just a tad to spend more time with him albeit his assurances to remain exactly as she was.

It was then that the sound of a voice snapped her back to attention from her innermost thoughts. When she shifted her head to see what it was, the other hunters of the Cardinal Virtues—Granson, Giott, Lue-Reeq, Taynor, Cerigg and Cyella—eyed her with both concern.

“Is everything alright?” the Dark Knight asked of her, worry glistening in his eyes despite his hardened expression.

Aria smiled softly and inclined her head. “Indeed, pardon my inattentiveness. I was lost in thought.”

Taynor leaned in, unable to school his emotions.

“Maybe some rest would be a good idea?” he asked.

“A tankard of ale would be more than enough, eh, friend?” Giott laughed merrily as she downed one of her own.

Lue-Reeq frowned and shook his head. “I daresay it would make her feel worse rather than better.”

“What did you say?!” the dwarf exclaimed aggressively.

The sight of the two’s bantering was enough to bring good cheer to the table as Cyella leaned in to the Warrior as if to tell a secret.

“Perhaps a return home is in order, is it not?” she offered to her.

Aria pondered on that thought, inclining her head, and the sight of it was enough to catch the attention of the others in the group. Her girlish and innocent appearance caught them off guard, a look unlike that of a seasoned warrior that was a master of multiple martial arts across the realm.

“I think it might just be,” Aria replied excitedly in a soft voice.

Everyone smiled. She could finally rest.

She could finally go home.

[illegiblewords]

8|

HEY GUYS.

GUYS.

THEY’RE ALL LITERALLY ANGELS.

WINGS INCLUDED.

I’ve mentioned in passing before that the Amaurotines were basically angels, but shit man the Ascians are actually fallen angels.

And like, I stumbled into the Elidibus shot but his wings are made of Zodiark my dudes.

Oh shit.

And not just fucking that.

Time to look back at the lyrics to Shadowbringers.

Some quick disclaimers! 1) There will be bits of this where I just go idk. Because sometimes idk lol. 2) I am 10000% sure that this song has layers similar to how Tomorrow and Tomorrow has layers. Tomorrow and Tomorrow I’ve heard people speculate it could be the people of the alternate Source future or the Amaurotines, and if it is the Amaurotines whether it’s directed at the Warrior or Hades or both is also up in the air. So while there is the very, very literal reading where it’s like yes this is the First and the first arc and focused all about things that happened in the First’s plot, I think the secondary meaning might seriously apply to the overarching patch arc/Ascians as a whole. 3) Pls don’t be afraid to challenge me on shit lol I just found this and am flying by the seat of my pants.

For whom weeps the storm, Her tears on our skin The days of our years gone, Our souls soaked in sin These memories ache with the weight of tomorrow

“For whom weeps the storm/her tears on our skin” honestly the most significant point posed imo outside of nice imagery is that the question needs to be asked. Could be either or both, respecting WoL and co. versus the Ascians/dead Amaurot. “The days of our years gone/our souls soaked in sin” again, could be either side here. Depends on what further gets revealed about the fourteenth member of the Convocation and the summoning of Hydaelyn probably, but I think it’s fair to say both sides got stained in shitloads of blood. “These memories ache with the weight of tomorrow” not only is the history painful, having to keep moving forward and figure out some kind of future in light of it just makes it more painful. Also a note, a few other peeps online noted that Emet-Selch reacted insanely strong/negatively when Urianger and Y’shtola commented on his future. And just as another thread, I want to highlight that the Ascians for a good chunk of their appearances talked about things being foretold.

Who fights? Who flies? Who falls?

FALLEN ANGEL MOTIFS. COULD BE WARRIOR. COULD BE ASCIANS. COULD BE BOTH. AGAIN, QUESTION GOTTA BE ASKED BECAUSE BOTH SIDES GONNA HAVE BLOOD ON THEIR HANDS.

One brings shadow, one brings light Two-toned echoes tumbling through time Threescore wasted, ten cast aside Four-fold knowing, no end in sight One brings shadow, one brings light One dark future no one survives On their shadows, away we fly

First two lines are relatively straightforward imo, WoL versus Ascians there. It could be Emet-Selch versus WoL specifically but honestly I’m unsure. Tbh it could be fellow summoners along with WoL versus Ascians or it could be one person versus one person. “Threescore wasted, ten cast aside” IT TOOK ME. A GOOD WHILE. TO FIGURE THIS OUT. There’s a saying “threescore and ten” that existed historically. Threescore is sixty. Ten is... ten. But basically, back in the day seventy years was the generally accepted average livespan for a human being. Threescore wasted = sixty years of a seventy year lifespan in vain, ten cast aside = ten years of a seventy year lifespan. “Fourfold knowing” I think has a double meaning within too. First, there’s an idea in Buddhism called the Fourfold Round that I think is precisely what this is referencing. These come out to direct knowledge of feeling, direct knowledge of perception, direct knowledge of fabrications, and direct knowledge of consciousness. Given these, I suspect that at minimum by the end of patch 5 the three Unsundered Ascians and the Warrior of Light will all fit into roles within this, and we’ll probably be able to tell which is which. Personally I’m leaning toward WoL being direct knowledge of consciousness because especially when you factor in the Echo that gets pretty wild. An additional level though, four in East Asia is commonly associated with death. So no end in sight coming right after FOURfold seems like it’s missing some foreshadowing of the end. Possibly.

The road that we walk Is lost in the flood Here proud angels bathe in Their wages of blood At this, the world's end, do we cast off tomorrow

AMAUROT IS UNDERWATER IN THE TEMPEST. SHIT’S FLOODED. ASCIANS ARE PROUD ANGELS BATHING IN WAGES OF BLOOD. EITHER THE SHARDS + SOURCE GOTTA END TO REGAIN THE ORIGINAL WORLD OR THE ORIGINAL WORLD HAS TO END TO MAINTAIN THE SHARDS + SOURCE. And casting off tomorrow, if we jump up to previous lyrics about memories aching with the weight of tomorrow--I think this foreshadows being liberated from pain of past and future both to continue living in the present. Again, could be wrong about how that gets interpreted, but I do think a link is there. Also I mean the world is ending, that’s the point you no longer have to worry about what comes next. There is no next.

One brings shadow, one brings light To this riddle all souls are tied Brief our moments, brazen and bright Forged in fury, tempered in ice Hindmost devils, early to rise Sing come twilight, sleep when they die Heaven's banquet leavened with lies Sating honor, envy, and pride One brings shadow, one brings light Run from the light

First two lines, everyone who exists is gonna tie into the tragedy of how the shards + Source came to be and the conflict between WoL and co. versus Ascians. “Brief our moments" through “tempered in ice” I think is referring to the whole strength born from limitations and facing negative emotions/obstacles rather than avoiding them. Hindmost devils means the devils farthest back are the first to rise, which could be WoL or Ascians depending on reading. If it’s the Ascians and they’re taken as fallen angels I mean devils are fallen angels. But that also mixes metaphors given proud angels earlier. If mixed metaphors are a non-issue though, “Hindmost devils” through “sleep when they die” would more or less translate to the oldest devils are the first to act and seize power. They celebrate the coming of night and do not sleep. “Heaven’s banquet” through “pride” again, disclaimer mixed metaphor going on but I think it might be neat if it is WoL and co. or more specifically Hydaelyn. I don’t think it strictly comes to Heaven/Heroes = evil but that Heaven has hidden corruption that makes people feel better about themselves but is kind of ugly. Then again, all of this could probably be flipped too. This section is tricky. But if run from the light = Hydaelyn that shit’s gonna be fascinating. Also, I do think Zenos whether he just attempts or succeeds in nabbing one of the big two primals is actually gonna go for Hydaelyn. Lots of reasons for this including “she won the first time” and “Zenos dun give af about creation” and “she’s right there whereas Zodiark is super scattered” and “Zenos is basically an opposite to Emet-Selch philosophically and might work as another way of exploring negative light connotations”. But run from the light would be reaaaaal interesting if that goes down.

Authors of our fates Orchestrate our fall from grace Poorest players on the stage Our defiance drives us straight to the edge A reflection in the glass Recollections of our past Swift as darkness, cold as ash Far beyond this dream of paradise lost

“Authors of our fates/Orchestrate our fall from grace” the characters involved created the primals themselves, in so doing being the authors of their fates and damning themselves when shit went out of control. Could precede that too and be broadened to other circumstances probably. I do think it is gonna come up that all the bad shit that happened stemmed from choices made though. “Poorest players on the stage/Our defiance drives us straight to the edge” references some Shakespeare. This being “Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player/That struts and frets his hour upon the stage/And then is heard no more. It is a tale/Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury/Signifying nothing.” Shakespeare bit is saying that life is brief and ultimately not real/an act where everyone worries during the brief span of the story but all too fast it’s over. There’s a ton of passion but ultimately it’s small and petty and meaningless. If we link this back to poorest players on the stage and the defiance, it is basically challenging the idea of a brief life being meaningless. So would apply more to the mortal characters. “Reflection in the glass” I thiiiink might reference the idea of real identity versus not real but idek. “Recollections of our past/Swift as darkness, cold as ash/Far beyond this dream of paradise lost” these lines are prob linked as a trio far as I can tell. Memory comes fast as darkness/the coming of night (tying back to sing come twilight maybe? also the end of the world as it is), cold as ash refers to the dead of Amaurot probably. And I’m not positive on that juxtaposition with paradise lost, but it may be suggesting that the dream of perfection rings hollow and there’s a reason that what is now being remembered as paradise is long dead.

Home Riding home Dying hope Hold onto hope... Ohhh... Home Riding home Home, riding home Hope, finding hope... Ohhh...

Shits both WoL and Ascians here.

One brings shadow, one brings light One more chapter we've yet to write Want for nothing, nothing denied Wand'ring ended, futures aligned One brings shadow, one brings light One brings shadow, one brings light You are the light

One more chapter = gotta get closure for Amaurot and the Ascians. “Want for nothing, nothing denied/Wand’ring ended, futures aligned” this took me a bit, and it feels like possibly a reach imo, but my guess for now is: Emet-Selch was talking before about maybe there being a way forward without so much bloodshed. I still think guy’s gonna come back as a clone and I think/hope that we can fuckin’ trust recruit him (”I may even lend you my knowledge and strength” I AM HOLDING YOU TO THAT EMET-SELCH IF I HAVE TO BEAT MY ENEMIES TO DEATH WITH YOUR CORPSE) and find some kind of middle ground that doesn’t just = fuck Amaurot and destroy Zodiark. That would feel too simple to me. I kind of think some sort of rejoining will need to happen... but not simply Zodiark rejoining into a giant monster primal. I think Hydaelyn and Zodiark gotta become one being.

Also. If that is the case Lahabrea better have some fucking good notes to justify that dumb attempt to fuse with Igeyorhm in a first-time aether experiment while fighting the Warrior of Light. Because then it would be more cool even if the timing was still terrible life choices.

But yeah I think that’s gonna tie into futures aligned stuff.

We fall We fall We fall We fall unto the end

One world's end

Our world's end

Our end

We won't end

I am shadow, I am the light

This bit’s p. straightforward lol.

But yeah I am still super jazzed about this feel free to challenge my readings! I think stuff is there, just dunno if what I found correctly identifies the stuff lol.

[fourteenth-ascian]

Lightbringer, Shadowbringer

alternative title: i got bored and wanted to write something kind of nice about emet-selch? and thinking about the WoL/D’s past self/true identity which i named madeen because i love ff9 so much and amaurot reminds me of memoria and hades is there. i dont believe emet-selch was right, btw, but i sympathized heavily and i wanted to give him kind of a nice moment cause he was a lot more human than he let on, imo. anyway this is a drabble with heavy spoilers. it’s quasi-romantic but also not really too haha.

---

How nobody had managed to see her within the so-called Warrior of Light was truly astounding. Surely Lahabrea would have seen it. Surely.

Then again, he supposed he had been the closest to her. An unstoppable pair, Hades and Madeen - boundless wells of creativity, and in her case, kindness - she expended less creative energy on personal and general advancement and more on helping the young realize their own dreams. Lightbringer, they had called her, for she had created means of illumination in unexpected sources, but more importantly she'd brought light to the hearts of those creating their first ideas, helping to see them realized. Too selfless by far, even by the utopean standards of Amaurot - but that had always been something he loved about her. She had a commanding presence, and although she encouraged everyone to strike out on their own and achieve their own goals and create for the betterment of society, somehow they still flocked to her, seeking her guidance and approval. A guardian to all who allowed only few to be close to her. She had boundless compassion, but she wielded it carefully. As though it were a kind of shield. Or perhaps even a greatsword - defending and cleaving with it in one.

Perhaps he was only thinking a greatsword because that's what the Warrior held.

The Warrior was decisively not the woman he knew. And yet, at the same time, she was - in part. Cursed to mortality, without the advancement of their society. Their beautiful, perfect society. These half-beings could never make anything close, not without their power. Not while being beheld to petty squabbles and war. And yet, somehow, she could. She could bring them the darkness; she could, with gentle yet firm compassion, bring the people of this doomed world together and create something. She could create in her own right - oh, he knew about the simalcrums and visions she'd brought to life in her journey. Visions of the lost, using her own aether out of guilt and empathy in order to apologise to those who'd had loved ones taken from them (by her actions). She had used her compassion carefully. The Warrior was bound to expend hers without regard for herself.

And yet he, one who had suffered an eternity of disappointment in these broken, incomplete lands, had allowed himself a modicum of hope.

Foolish, foolish hope! Oh, he had allowed emotion to get the best of him for but a brief moment! This iteration was the closest to the real thing he'd ever seen - the way she carried herself, the way she set about aiding people in the simplest of causes with gentle serenity (but in such a way that they would all come to admire and even adore her), even her faint smile when she thought nobody was watching. He hadn't been lying when he complimented her on her way of conquest. Perhaps she, in this broken guise, did not know how easily she could conquer and create, but if she had survived and thrived under the influence of Light, it would have been a genuine pleasure to guide her, to help her reach the fullest potential she could in this form. It would almost be like having the real thing by his side once more, at least until they facilitated the Rejoining.

This Warrior was no Lightbringer. Sure, they called her the Warrior of Light in the Source, but she could not fulfil her role as Shadowbringer in the First.

His disappointment had been immeasurable. All he could do for this incomplete being was to offer her a dignified end, because even if it wasn't truly her, it was cruelty beyond his own to let her die at the hands of the incomplete Scions, ones who brought her down and kept her tethered to this awful world. And he was a cruel man - or at least, he could be. You didn't create empires in the ways he had without cruelty. Compassion, though, he had enough of that to get by.

He'd learned it from her, of course.

He'd allowed himself hope once again - blindly created a shade of a good friend in a last ditch hope that she would remember, that there was enough of her in this poor unfortunate incomplete soul to turn back, to hold in the Light and let it shine through her as it used to, not overtake her and consume her, transforming her imperfect (yet reminiscent enough of perfection) visage in to a twisted abomination.

And oh, it had - but not in the way he'd hoped.

He should've seen it, too. She'd always fought for the young, the lesser - even when the divides weren't so great, she'd always pushed for the little people to create. Of course she'd defend the shattered, fragmented, lesser beings of the star. It was the briefest moment of realisation. How could she have possibly denied their past and their future, and not seen the right of it? She'd always have seen these lesser beings as equal, even when they were so obviously not.

And as he was consumed by the light of her soul - oh, how warm! How comforting! How blissful, to finally be at rest! - he could see her again. The two of them, once more in Amaurot, her hands extending to meet his. She was ghostly and incomplete - her soul still split among the shards of the star - but it was peace in memory. His vision faded, the Warrior standing in place looking more and more like her every moment as his spirit disintegrated.

"Welcome home, Hades." No longer Solus, or Emet-Selch - finally, his true name spoken once more. He closed his eyes, fading away in to the Light, as though he was falling in to Madeen's arms once more. "You will never be forgotten."

[aryalaenkha-a]

Shadowbringers (Lyrics)

(From the FFXIV Developer's blog)

For whom weeps the storm, Her tears on our skin The days of our years gone, Our souls soaked in sin These memories ache with the weight of tomorrow

Who fights? Who flies? Who falls?

One brings shadow, one brings light Two-toned echoes tumbling through time Threescore wasted, ten cast aside Four-fold knowing, no end in sight One brings shadow, one brings light One dark future no one survives On their shadows, away we fly

The road that we walk Is lost in the flood Here proud angels bathe in Their wages of blood At this, the world's end, do we cast off tomorrow

One brings shadow, one brings light To this riddle all souls are tied Brief our moments, brazen and bright Forged in fury, tempered in ice Hindmost devils, early to rise Sing come twilight, sleep when they die Heaven's banquet leavened with lies Sating honor, envy, and pride One brings shadow, one brings light Run from the light

Authors of our fates Orchestrate our fall from grace Poorest players on the stage Our defiance drives us straight to the edge A reflection in the glass Recollections of our past Swift as darkness, cold as ash Far beyond this dream of paradise lost

Home Riding home Dying hope Hold onto hope... Ohhh... Home Riding home Home, riding home Hope, finding hope... Ohhh...

One brings shadow, one brings light One more chapter we've yet to write Want for nothing, nothing denied Wand'ring ended, futures aligned One brings shadow, one brings light One brings shadow, one brings light You are the light

We fall We fall We fall We fall unto the end

One world's end

Our world's end

Our end

We won't end

I am shadow, I am the light.

[civveon]

G’raha Tia is one of the bestest boys in ffxiv and you should play it

That said, a history (as I remember it) and spoilers for Shadowbringers 5.3 under the cut

We (WoL, Warrior of Light, the player character, you) first meet our boy G’raha in the Crystal Tower raids. He’s a Student of Baldesion and he’s well-versed in the study of ancient Allagans. He has one red eye and one blue eye, and according to one of the books, he’s got a smooth singing voice. He really, really looks up to us and idealizes the WoL, seeing them as a beacon of hope, adventure, and good. 

It comes out that an ancestor of his was very close to the Allagan royals and gave a bit of their blood to him, so that the royal line may stay alive. This blood was then carried on through the generations, right back to G’raha, which results in him having one red eye. 

So, the crystal tower has popped up, and some shenanigans happen with Nero and Allagan clones and cloud of darkness. One of the clones ~activated~ his royal Allagan blood and turned both his eyes red. He shuts himself inside the tower for the future, because he feels the power of the crystal tower would be best left in future generations, when (hopefully) people can understand this power better. WoL is sad. 

I’m gonna go chronologically from here, instead of storyline, so extra big spoilers ahead.

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Fast forward 200 years and the world is in shambles. WoL died, everything went to shit because of a brand-new calamity, so the descendants of two really good mechanics - Biggs and Wedge - open up the tower to ask for help. G’raha has been in that tower all this dang time, just about fused to the tower to prolong his life. 

They figure out that the source of the calamity comes from a parallel dimension, or shard, if you will - the First. Together, they mash the power of the tower, the time-travel of Alexander, and the dimension-hopping of Omega together to make a banger of bgm called “a long fall”  travel to the First before any of the bad stuff happens there and prevent the Calamity in the Source (where we’re from). 

They mostly succeed. G’raha managed to plop the tower down in the First and takes up a new name: the Crystal Exarch, and for 100 years his tower functions as a safe haven, a beacon of hope. But now they need to bring us there as well to really Stop the Bad Thing and make it stick, so they summon WoL and Co to the First.We’re kinda angry about it because we were kindof in the middle of something, but we get it after more exposition. 

At this point, Grandpa Exarch is basically glued to the tower because he’s so reliant on the tower’s power to do stuff, and, well, stay alive. He’s kinda sad about it because in the 200 years he’s waited, plus the 100 he’s spent in the First, he read up about us and all he really wants is to go on an adventure with us. But he feels obligated to the tower and to the First, and denies he’s G’raha when we ask him, because he doesn’t feel like he could go on an adventure with us in his current state.

More Shadowbringers shenanigans happen, and when the Big Bad comes down to it, we defeated it together, which made him happy. But the crystal tower is taking over his body, crystallizing him. He dies, standing in the throneroom, as a symbol of hope, a statue of crystal. I confess, I cried here. 

But thankfully, we could keep his memories - which meant that once we were able to go home, we could place the memories in our, younger, just-locked-himself-in-the-tower version of G’raha. And since he’s no longer physically 300 years old and an extension of the tower, he’s free to go wherever he pleases and meet his heroes. 

From that point on, we can take him with us everywhere we go c: him meeting new people he’s only read about is so precious. 

I always forget about G'raha Tia's unique niche as "an immortal time traveler from an alternate future who knows all the events up to the timeline split because he read them in a book and who just lives here now" until he interacts with some guy you never think about and he's like TO THINK I MIGHT HAVE THE HONOUR TO MEET THE LEGENDARY 'SOME GUY', WOWIE

[blueyemxn]

My Persephone (Pt. 4)

Ballad of the Tempered

Spoiler Warning: Content below contains spoilers for the lvl 80 Shadowbringers MSQ, if you have not reached this point in the game and do not wish to be spoiled please refrain from reading. Otherwise enjoy my trash shipping at your own risk.

Relationship: Emet-SelchxWoL           

Ao3 Story - Here    Part One: Here    Part Two: Here    Part Three: Here   Part Five: Here    Part Six: Here

Death was always watching, breathing down her neck.

Death was always ready, snapping at her heels.

Life was always absent, leaving him feel hollow.

Life was always boring, dulling his sharp senses.

Death was empty; it was unfeeling and cold. 

Death was terrible; it was unbiased and untainted.

Life was stagnant; it was filling but couldn’t satiate.

Life was impartial; it was inclusive but didn’t distinguish.

They were neither.

They were different.

He was a passionate and loving death; grasping and holding on, determined to see her live. 

He was a furious and spiteful death; burning and drowning her, unable to forgive.

She was a bold and fervent life; gripping and latching on, not wanting to let go.

She was a stubborn and determined life; shoving and pulling away, refusing his woe.

His essence weaves into hers, dancing in nostalgic bliss. 

His essence suffocates hers, choking her within his darkness.

Her essence intertwines with his, retreading steps of the past.

Her essence struggles against his, refusing to let this breath be her last.

This death was alive, claws ripping the flesh apart. 

This death was feeling, judging her fragmented heart.

This life was vibrant, her searing light burning at his retinas.

This life was ever-changing, challenging what he knew about previous replicas.

He seeped into her crevices, letting her feel whole for the briefest of moments.  

He erupted and tore away, sending agonizing pulses in a torrent. 

She nuzzled into his cavities, filling his touch-starved soul with what he’s craved for eons.

She severed and lashed out, whipping antagonizing tremors in bright neons.

His nose went to hers, humming a tune they used to sing. 

His knuckle-white grip takes her shoulders, bruising as they cling.

Her forehead rests on his, muttering in a language they used to vocalize.

Her strong calloused fingers go for his neck, closing-off his struggling cries. 

He sighs in relief. 

He growls in disgust.

Remember us.

She grins with glee.

She sneers with contempt.

Remember us.

He needs her.

He rejects her.

Remember us.

She craves him.

She denies him. 

Remember us.

He loves her.

He hates her.

Remember us.

She adores him.

She loathes him. 

Remember us.

He wants to save her.

He wants to destroy her.

Remember us.

She has to save him.

She has to destroy him.

Remember me.

They want to remember.

Remember who we used to be.

It can only be you.

It can only be we.

Her eyes snapped open and he is gone. 

Her eyes closed shut and she is alone.

Her hand grips tightly onto the withered ground.

Her hand releases to find a dying flower crown.

Her fingertips were hesitant to touch as the fragile petals eroded.

Her fingertips held them gently as the energies within her molded.

As death brings destruction and peace, life brings rebirth and conflict.

As darkness overshadows and comforts, light illuminates and restricts.

The cycle continues one after another, flowing indefinitely in a predictable spiel.

Flowers bloom in the bosom of their mother, overgrown in hands that couldn’t heal.

Spilling about the ground upon the dead earth, fated to die just like those in the First.

Blooming around the dead gives kindling for the hearth, a fire brimming, ready to burst.

She rises now, her heart beating to the fires.

She looks to the horizon, eyes set on the towering spires.

It was time to end this, to stop this insidious cancer.

It was time to move forward and finally get some fucking answers.

[maskedmuses]

@fantasy-of-iolite​​ wanted a starter!

Shaking her head, a sigh emerged from the woman’s lips as she placed a book down on the table within the Rising Stones’ small library. “Useless. None of these tomes have what I’m looking for, and expending so much energy to read them won’t solve anything.” Irritation was evident in the way Y’shtola’s ears flatted slightly, her company with Z’nakei the only solace she had from expending herself so much.

But if the information was not here, she would need to seek out a place where there would be. Already, she was certain that the other Miqo’te was incredibly bored of the so-called chores she had been requested by the sorceress. An idea piqued at her mind, a devilish smile curling upon her lips as she turned towards the other.

“If there are no answers here, we must go someplace where the aether flow is strong and we could investigate it’s permeability between the worlds. You’ve traveled all about Eorzea and back, Z’nakei: where would you begin your search for such a place?”

Intentionally baiting the dear hero for an adventure beyond the walls of books? Perhaps, but that was something Y’shtola would never tell.