#Emelia Striker

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2024: 6 Halcyon

(2,480ish words taking place about 20ish years before ARR...)

“Papa! The caravan’s here!”

Rashae stood at the front of their stall, leaning over the counter to see farther down the street. Beyond her, he could indeed see the first of the wagons rolling in.

“Gather your siblings and cousins,” he said. “They’ll be weary from the trade routes and we’ll do our part to lighten their load as we welcome them in.”

Rashae nodded and dashed off. Tanzel joined the other men and women of their Cooperative in leaving his store to ensure the warehouse doors were open and the stables ready to accept the chocobos and their cargo. Friends and relatives greeted one another, separated by weeks or months since they had all left Davarresh for this trade season, plying the wares around the island, with some like Tanzel’s family coming straight to the capital.

He grinned as he saw one of the wagons belonging to the Ranaz family. “Jin!” he called, catching a glimpse of his oldest friend.

Jinrahn turned, smiling broadly to return the quick hug Tanzel gave him. “Good to see you, brother!” Jinrahn said. “It’s good to be home.”

“Until we go home to Davarresh when the wind cools. How was the road?”

“Dusty and hot, as always,” Jinrahn said. “But we’re a little lighter than normal for finishing out the season.”

“That good, eh?”

“Well, I had more charming help than usual.” Jin’s smile faltered slightly, a sympathetic tinge to it that Tanzel did not understand, until he followed his friend’s gaze to the two women wrangling the Ranaz children into some semblance of order. He knew Jinrahn’s wife, but the other woman took him a moment to recognize.

“Is that Emelia?”

“It is,” Jinrahn said. “She and her children arrived just before we left the village. That never ending war the Coerthans somehow have with their dragons—imagine!—claimed her husband.”

“I thought she’d married a farmer?”

“Aye. Something about giving succor to a soldier, some hero I guess, and got caught in the conflict. Lost their house and all. So she came home finally. She can still charm the stingiest Arkasodara grandfather into buying more than he meant, too.”

Tanzel nodded. It had been a shock to everyone when Emelia Ranaz had remained in Coerthas, having fallen in love there, after scorning the attentions of every local boy and even a few girls who had looked her way as she had blossomed from Jinrahn’s skinny little sister into a lovely maiden trained in bardsong.

Well, she was still Jinrahn’s little sister, that they had by turns teased and avoided as boys. At least until she turned and saw Tanzel, taking a moment to recognize him, and then smiling, offering a small wave.

He knew too well that particular sadness swimming in her dark blue eyes, the exact sort of tension in her shoulders.

Tanzel saw the same in his mirror every day.

-

The trade season kept the Cooperative families happily busy, another successful year passing by. Tanzel was now familiar with Emelia’s son, an energetic ten year old called Zaine, playing with the other children when not performing daily chores and light work. A helper, that one, willing to lend a hand as needed.

If he kept busy enough, he wouldn’t have to dwell on his pain, Tanzel knew, from watching his own boys.

Emelia’s daughter was a helper too, but she was quiet, and rarely left her mother’s side, unless she was with the old teacher, Shovanna. Still, Aeryn seemed like a good, hard-working child, who otherwise played or read silently, only rarely joining the other children’s games. Some folks whispered about the girl not being quite right in the head���what unhindered child made such little sound?—but everything Tanzel saw showed a bright, helpful girl, sometimes frustrated by her own silence.

He recognized the hurt in her, too. He saw it in his own daughters.

It was their last night in Radz-at-Han. In the morning—late, after tonight’s merrymaking with their neighbors and those of the Cooperative who would stay through the rainy season—most of them would make the trek up the coast to their little village, and the cycle would begin anew. Tanzel was eager to return to the quiet of Davarresh, after months in the city.

He was not so eager to join in the drinking, feasting, and dancing going on in the square outside the Cooperative’s compound. He put in a brief appearance for propriety’s sake, nursing a single drink while smiling politely and speaking to a few business partners and good friends. He soon slipped away, as had been his wont for the last few years. He just didn’t have the heart for it anymore.

As he found his excuse to return to the storehouse, he saw he wasn’t the only one.

Emelia was in one of the stalls belonging to her family, leaning on a stack of chocobo feedbags. Her hands gripped the canvas, her hunched shoulders stiff. Her long, dark hair hid her face, but he heard her sniffle. He made certain his boots made noise and she straightened, quickly swiping her face before turning with her usual dazzling smile.

“Oh. Hello, Tanzel.”

He smiled in return, but didn’t bother with his own mask. “Hello, Emelia. Not feeling up to the party?”

Her smile faltered. “I...no,” she said, letting the mask drop now. “Not really.”

Tanzel nodded. “Me neither.” He pretended to think for a moment. “Come on.”

She raised a brow. “To where?”

“Somewhere we won’t have to deal with well-meaning friends and their platitudes,” he said bluntly, but gently, heading away from the entrance and the festivities outside.

After a brief moment, he heard her light step follow after him.

He paused in his family stall long enough to grab a couple small, brown bottles from under the counter, that he had not yet packed on purpose. Then he led her to the stairs, and the winding climb up past the third story, taking her hand to help her up onto the roof.

The city glittered and gleamed around them, color and lights rioting under the starry heavens. It was a sight he could never tire of, and from the way Emelia sucked in a breath, it was one she had nearly forgotten, and had not yet taken the time to reacquaint herself with since returning home.

Tanzel and Emelia sat on the edge of the roof, opposite of the party up front, looking out over the city. He popped open one of the bottles and handed it to her, then took the other for himself. Emelia wrinkled her nose as she took a swig.

“Ugh, you and Jin still have terrible taste in booze,” she said, taking another sip.

“A man’s gotta have at least one vice,” Tanzel replied.

“Your grandfather’s favorite saying,” she said. “But he had better taste for proper liquor.” Her soft smile was genuine now, recalling those happy days of their youth.

“We can blame my uncles for being poor influences. Or your uncles. I forget.”

She laughed. Not as freely as she once might have, but genuinely, and that was good enough. “Remember when Uncle Fahr convinced you and Jin that a wish-granting djinn lived in a cave in the cliffs south of Yedlihmad?”

Tanzel chuckled. “I do, and the punishment we got for investigating—and stumbling on a nest of efts instead. You’d think that’d be punishment in itself!”

“Perhaps had something to do with leading them back to town.”

“Oh, perhaps. But you weren’t exactly a saint, either, as I recall.”

“I don’t know what you could mean.”

“That incident with the silk merchant and the fish comes to mind.”

“It was a crab, and that was a perfectly formulated plan for revenge.”

“My mistake. I do have to question your definition of ‘perfectly formulated’ though.”

“My plan was fine,” Emelia insisted with an exaggerated pout. “It was the crab and my target who were uncooperative.”

Tanzel laughed. They continued talking, recalling childhood and adolescent adventures and achievements, bright days when their futures had yet seemed limitless in possibility.

“And I remember,” Emelia said, as the contents of their respective bottles were low. “At your wedding, my brothers were so—” She stopped suddenly, looking away. “I’m sorry.”

“What for? If it was about the pranks they pulled on me just before we were to give our vows, I have it on good authority you had nothing to do with that.”

“I just,” she hesitated. “I heard what happened. And I haven’t taken the time yet…”

He leaned over and bumped her shoulder—not quite like when they were children, but in a similarly familiar manner. “It’s fine. I’ve heard the words often enough. Just like you have by now.”

She peered at him, absently batting him away, as she had done when a girl and he and her brother had pestered her like that. “Doesn’t it still...Are you…”

“Yes, it hurts,” Tanzel replied quietly. He looked out over the city again. “I’m not sure it will ever stop hurting. I might have lost myself in a pile of these bottles, if not for my children.” He smiled. “Rashae’s so much like her mother. Looks like her more and more, too.”

“Zaine looks like his father,” Emelia whispered. “And they both have his eyes.”

“Blessed reminders,” Tanzel said. “At least, that’s what everyone tells me. And on good days, I agree with them.”

“And on bad ones?” She didn’t quite look at him.

“I curse the gods for such a constant cruelty. Then I continue on, trying not to feel guilty, because what else can I do?”

He saw her bite her lip and nod ever so slightly.

“Still,” Tanzel continued, finishing his drink. “It doesn’t hurt to think of our wedding—not anymore. It’s still one of the best days of my life. Then our children were born, and those were blessed times too. At least until the little monsters started keeping us up all night,” he joked.

She chuckled, and he again took it as a victory. “At least you had family with you.”

“That did help.” He frowned. “Did he not?”

She shook her head. “His mother disapproved of me. So we settled in a village where he had friends, and...we did have good neighbors, who helped.”

“Fool woman, to not know what a gem of a daughter-in-law she had,” Tanzel sniffed.

“Thought I was Jin’s bratty little sister.”

“I never said you weren’t still that, too.” He bumped her again. She smiled wanly and shook her head. “You were happy though, weren’t you, Emelia?”

Her face crumpled. “Mostly. I loved him enough to stay in that cold, colorless land—I wanted to come home for years, but he didn’t want to leave, and now...” She leaned forward, face in her hands.

Tanzel rubbed her back for a time, letting her crying, saying nothing. Eventually she calmed, taking a shaky breath, and accepting his handkerchief to wipe her eyes and nose.

“Tell me about Coerthas,” he finally said. “It can’t have been all terrible, if you stayed for so long.”

“It’s all...tangled up in memories of him.”

“Of course it is. But the good outweighs the bad, doesn’t it?” As she considered that, he continued. “That wretched moment cannot overshadow all the time proceeding it. It’s a disservice to them and the joy they brought us. The children they left with us. The only thing that comes close to helping is remembering the times we laughed and loved. That one terrible day can’t take away the rest.”

They were silent for a long while.

“It had its own beauty,” Emelia finally said, voice hushed. “More stark, the mountains swooping over the vales. In Springtime suddenly the fields would go from gray and brown to a lush green and the flowers would bloom like rainbows fallen from the sky. We’d walk along the sheep paths and deer tracks…”

He listened, as she described the idyllic life of a Coerthan farm family—not that they hadn’t known hardship, and he understood her sighing about little Aeryn going through clothes and shoes like water, his Rashae was too similar—but what began in fits and starts soon fell into familiar bardic story rhythms as she told stories until they were both laughing over her children’s antics, her neighbors’ strange foreign actions, and her happier memories of her husband.

The bells chimed thrice, startling them both. The sounds of the party up front had long since faded, though there were still a few revelers wearily talking and stumbling themselves and others to bed. Tanzel stood and stretched, offering Emelia a hand up. She took it, and continued in to give him a tight hug. He returned it, and they stood like that for a long moment.

“Thank you, Tan,” she said, still leaning on him. “I wish...I wish you didn’t understand. But I’m,” she hesitated again.

“But I do. And I’m here, when you need to talk. Or just get away from others who say things, without knowing it how we do.”

She nodded against his chest, then, with a deep exhale, stepped away. “Shovanna said she’d stay with the children, and they should all three be asleep, but I ought to check on them.”

“Mine were probably up too late and getting into mischief until their grandmothers caught them,” Tanzel said. “I’ll get an earful in the morning.”

“So you’ll do as when we were children, and you and Jin used to blame me to try to keep out of trouble.”

“Ah, you’ve caught on to my dastardly plan.”

“Next time, consult someone whose plans are perfect,” she said, affecting a haughty sniff.

“If I find someone like that, I’ll let you know,” he replied, laughing as she bapped his arm.

He helped her off the roof and into the stairwell, and they made their way down in the dark, still joking. They parted at the base, he heading to his family quarters, Emelia to her family’s. He glanced back before stepping inside. She had also stopped, and waved to him.

Tanzel returned the wave before Emelia vanished behind the door. He felt better than he had in awhile. If this pain he carried, and how he was learning to live with it, could help his childhood friend...well, it was far from worth it, but it was something useful, at least. Maybe.

He wished it hadn’t taken this sort of wretched circumstance to reunite them. To make her more than Jin’s bratty little sister, but someone who understood, and needed to be understood herself.

Tanzel shook his head, disposed of the bottles, and continued on to bed. Morning would come too soon and a lot of work with it.

He dreamed of his favorite days with his wife, and then of youthful days playfully teasing his friend’s little sister.

[autumnslance]

Aeryn doesn't remember much of her birth father, Corran; she remembers he had a gruff voice perfect for telling stories, called her "Hummingbird", danced in the kitchen with Mama. Aeryn found out as an adult that he was a secret heretic, able to transform into a dragon thanks to ingesting blood (and for long enough it had an effect on her), and was killed by Ser Alberic when he was still the Azure Dragoon. Ser Alberic lied to protect the innocent members of the Striker family and allow Emelia to take her children to Thavnair.

Aeryn is still trying to process how she feels about all of that, and how it explains much of her life. Her father is long gone, though, and so she is only left with spotty early childhood memories and pieces of a stranger's story.

Emelia is where Aeryn gained her appreciation of stories, song, dance, arts and creativity, and fashion. Emelia was a supportive and caring mother, if a little precious about her children, especially her daughter. That nervous protectiveness exploded when the siblings revealed their (mostly Zaine's) desire to leave Thavnair to be adventurers...starting with returning to Eorzea. Emelia put her foot down, fighting and tears were had, and in the end, Zaine left but Aeryn stayed. Emelia couldn't, wouldn't lose both of them to the realm where she'd lost so much, had given everything to leave to see her children safe.

Emelia also told Aeryn, but not Zaine, that she was ill; mother and daughter had always been closer, and he wouldn't have stayed either way. But Aeryn did. The alchemists staved it off for a time, but it was a slow dwindling of Emelia's vibrant life. Zaine seemed lost to the Calamity, proving Emelia's fears founded, and she deteriorated further.

Aeryn adored and admired her mother, but there's a resentment and relief and guilt mixed in with the love and grief, due to those last few years. It was a bit over a year after Emelia passed that Aeryn finally left home, to seek out her brother's fate.

When Aeryn does talk about her Papa, or is asked about her father, she thinks of her stepfather, Tanzel Eadir. Emelia married him a few years after their return to the island. A widower with (at the time) preteen and teen children himself, Aeryn became the youngest of a much larger family. While she was slow to open up to Tanzel, she always liked and admired him; she was simply shy as a child. But he was respectful, careful, warm, and loved the Striker children as his own. He saw to Aeryn's education, and her training, and though it broke his heart, let her choose her path and leave to live the life she wanted after Emelia passed. Tanzel has opened his home now to Aeryn's friends in the Scions, whenever they need; he's just happy to have his little girl able to visit and relatively safe. Her partner seems to be a decent man. Tanzel's boggled by her fame, the things she's done and seen. He can't comprehend what she's been through. How his family's status has changed (he is now on a few committees at the Satrap's request!)--how he has to watch out for greedily opportunistic relatives and acquaintances suddenly, too.

But it doesn't matter. Aeryn's his daughter, and Tanzel is there when she needs him. And she is so very grateful for that, and hadn't realized how much she missed it in the whirlwind of adventure since she first arrived in Eorzea finally.

Question of the Day [WoLs]

Since it seemed to have meet some success, I add another to the list. This time about a subject I don’t often see talked about when it comes to WoLs specifically:

What are their relationship with their parents? Are they still alive? How do their parents live with the risk their child has taken to help people/save the world?

[soccernetghana]

VIDEO +PHOTOS: Black Stars Striker Emmanuel Boateng weds Girlfriend Barbara in a beautiful ceremony

Ghana and Dalian Yifang F.C. Striker Emmanuel Boateng (EB21) tied the knot with longtime girlfriend Barbara in a beautiful wedding ceremony held at the Golden Bean Hotel on Saturday.The wedding was attended by family members, Coaches such as Kwesi Appiah, Maxwell Konadu,  some Black Stars players, (Frank Acheampong, Lawrence Atizigi, Nana Ampomah  Kumawood actors and actresses, Emelia Brobbey, Daabo, Kweku Menu and many more celebs, both local and some foreign players,Ernest Ohemeng, Caleb Salifu, Jerry Thompson, Ghana top Music Artist Kwabena Kwabena, Fameya  and friends of both Emmanuel Boateng and Barbara Boateng grace the occasion to celebrate the beautiful day with the newly wedded couple's.Here are some photos from the event: source: https://ghanasoccernet.com/

[wearemmauk-blog]

Top 10 fighters to never capture UFC gold

Top 10 fighters to never capture UFC gold - http://mmauk.net/2019/02/12/top-10-fighters-to-never-capture-ufc-gold/

Top 10 fighters to never capture UFC gold

In the unforgiving sport of mixed-martial-arts, not all fighters get the career-defining moment of capturing UFC gold. Being a world champion in the sport’s flagship organisation is every MMA fighter’s dream, but many fighters just fell short of realising that dream. These are the best MMA fighters that never captured UFC gold. (Interim titles not included)

10. Anthony Johnson 

Anthony ‘Rumble’ Johnson is often considered to be the most powerful striker in MMA history and one of the scariest men to ever set foot in the octagon. Making his light heavyweight debut back in 2014, the now-retired knockout artist sent a shockwave through the division with wins over the likes of Minotauro Nogueira, Alexander Gustafsson and Ryan Bader. Finishing each of these men in the very first round. There were not many men that were able to stand and trade with Johnson, especially at the later stages in his career.

But his attempts at gold were shut down by the one and only Daniel Cormier. Rumble’s rematch with DC at UFC 210 would be his final fight, retiring during what many thought to be his prime. Will Rumble ever return to the octagon?

9. Alexander Gustafsson 

In a division dominated by two of the all-time greats, Alexander ‘The Mauler’ Gustafsson always manages to keep his name at the top of the 205lbs division. One of the most underrated fighters on the UFC roster, the Swedish native has displayed time and time again why he’s one of the best light heavyweights on the planet. With only 5 losses over a 12-year career, Gustafsson has always kept consistent, with most of those losses coming from the best of the best.

Similar to Anthony Johnson, it seems as though the division Alex competes in is as much as a gift as it is a curse. Just as he reaches the top, he faces the likes of Daniel Cormier or Jon Jones. Saying that, despite losing to these men, Gustafsson arguably gave Jon Jones his toughest fight back in 2013, with many still believing that The Mauler defeated the champ that night. Do you believe he won? Or were the judges right?

8. Carlos Condit 

No nickname would fit Carlos Condit better than ‘The Natural Born Killer’. A true warrior in the octagon, it’s no surprise that every time Carlos steps in there the true MMA fans will get behind him. Just a few years ago, the former WEC welterweight champion was considered to be one of the best in the world, finishing the likes of Rory MacDonald and Dan Hardy back-to-back, and defeating Nick Diaz to become the interim welterweight champion.

Before his recent decline, Carlos was always up in title contention. Putting on a solid performance against Georges St-Pierre at UFC 154, and being on the end of a razor-sharp judges decision against Robbie Lawler in an all-time classic with many still believing Condit won the bout. Since that fight, Carlos has struggled to gain any momentum, losing his last 5 fights. Is it time for ‘The Natural Born Killer’ to retire?

7. Alistair Overeem 

One of the best strikers to ever compete in MMA, Alistair Overeem has been a champion in virtually every organisation he’s ever competed in while also winning prestigious titles in kickboxing throughout his career. Beginning his MMA career in 1999, ‘The Demolition Man’ has over 60 fights behind him with a stacked set of names including many former UFC champions on his record. Wins over Vitor Belfort, Mark Hunt, Fabricio Werdum, Brock Lesnar, Junior Dos Santos and the list goes on.

From PRIDE to Strikeforce, to DREAM and to the UFC, Overeem has done it all. Except holding UFC gold. Despite being one of, or if not the most decorated heavyweight in MMA history, he’s failed to have a UFC title wrapped around his waist. Still though, at 38 years of age, the Dutchman still manages to keep himself at the top of the heavyweight division and could very easily find himself competing for the title once again before his retirement.

6. The Diaz Brothers 

Pioneers and legends of MMA, The Diaz Brothers perfectly encapsulate what it is to be a fighter. With a combined number of over 60 fights, fan favourites Nate and Nick have been in there with the best, putting on some instant classics along the way. Possessing some of the best trash-talk in the sport and some memorable rivalries, it’s no surprise that when either of these two fight the PPV ratings will rise.

Competing in a range of organisations over the years, The Diaz Brothers have created some career-defining moments. From Nate’s historic upset and epic rivalry with Conor McGregor to Nick’s dominant run as Strikeforce champion, the sport of mixed-martial-arts really wouldn’t be the same without these men.

Despite never capturing a UFC title, neither of them have ever expressed their desire to be the champion. They are here to fight, and that’s what they do, and that’s why we love them.

5. Donald Cerrone

Whether it’s inside the cage or out of it, Cowboy Cerrone is one of the most entertaining fighters in MMA. Since starting his MMA career in 2006, Cerrone has gradually become one of the most loved fighters within the sport. With a dangerous set of skills consisting of a black belt in BJJ and some beautiful Muay Thai, Cerrone still poses a threat to anyone despite his age. Also known for his daredevil attitude, Cowboy is always willing to bring the fight no matter who when or where.

Cerrone holds the records for the most wins in UFC history, the most finishes, including the most finishes via head kick and the most post-fight bonuses. If that doesn’t show how prolific of a fighter Cowboy is, then I don’t know what does. At 35, his chase for a UFC championship continues. He’s fell short multiple times, but will he finally capture the one thing he’s never had?

4. Wanderlei Silva 

Wanderlei ‘The Axe Murderer’ Silva was once considered to be one of the best pound for pound fighters on the planet. One of PRIDE FC’s greatest fighters, his run and championship reign with the organisation is nothing short of legendary. With a 5-year undefeated win streak and multiple records set for the organisation such as the most wins in PRIDE history, the most knockouts and the most title defences, his ultra-aggressive fighting style combined with his explosive speed and power saw the Brazilian obtain a ferocious highlight reel. His berserker approach to fighting quickly got him a reputation, and a feared one.

Despite his best days being behind him when he re-signed with the UFC in 2007, Silva still continued to put on some legendary performances and form rivalries that would be remembered forever as well as keeping previous grudges bustling. Wanderlei Silva is a legend of mixed-martial-arts and a key figure in the evolution of the sport.

3. Urijah Faber

Perhaps the biggest pioneer on the list, UFC Hall of Famer Urijah Faber’s impact on the sport will always be present. Without Faber, the lower weight classes such as featherweight, bantamweight and flyweight wouldn’t be where they are today. They may even cease to exist. His rivalry with Dominick Cruz remains one of the sport’s greatest and it helped pave the way for the next generation of bantamweights. He helped build the framework of the division and allowed it to be legitimised.

And now that the former WEC champion is retired, he continues to train and support the new emerging talent at Team Alpha Male, the gym that he established back in 2004 which has contributed to many champions of the sport. Although ‘The California Kid’ failed to win a UFC title, his impact on the sport alone outweighs that unfulfillment.

2. Mirko Cro Cop

Mirko Filipović, better known as Mirko Cro Cop, is one of MMA’s all-time greatest strikers and was once seen as the best heavyweight in the world. With what many consider to be the best kicks in the sport’s history, Cro Cop ’s highlight reel is stuff of legend. High kick KO after high kick KO. Cro Cop holds the record for the most finishes in PRIDE history, including the most via. head kick. His striking was so powerful and explosive yet very technical.

Also considered to be one of the greatest kickboxers of all time, Mirko is one of the first kickboxers to successfully transition over to mixed-martial-arts. With some of the best takedown defence the sport has ever seen, Cro Cop perfectly prepared himself for the ruleset of MMA. This then influenced other kickboxers to make the switch to MMA. You could argue that without Mirko we wouldn’t see half as many kickboxers competing in the sport of MMA today. He is without a doubt one of the greatest heavyweights of all time and a true legend of the sport.

1. Dan Henderson 

When someone discovers that Dan Henderson was never UFC champion they are usually surprised as they assumed that he had held UFC gold. Hendo has held a title in every major organisation he’s competed in other than the UFC, but that doesn’t take away from his legacy. He is easily one of MMA’s all-time greats as well as one of the most decorated mixed martial artists ever. His iconic H-bomb has created some historic moments within the sport, and his knockout over Michael Bisping at UFC 100 remains one of the most vicious KOs ever.

As well as providing us with one of the greatest finishes the sport has ever seen, his first fight with Mauricio Rua at UFC 139 is considered by many to be one of the best fights of all-time, with Hendo getting the decision win in an all-out war. The fight was inducted into the UFC Hall of Fame’s fight wing in 2018.

Names that occupy Dan’s record are also outstanding. Wanderlei Silva, Rich Franklin, Michael Bisping, Mauricio Rua and even Fedor Emelianenko have all suffered defeat to Hendo. With him finishing Fedor in the first round. Fighting was Dan Henderson’s life, and that’s evident when you look at the fact that he fought until he was 46 and at that age still secured a performance bonus for his spectacular KO of Hector Lombard, which would go onto be his final victory.

While it may seem unsatisfying that Hendo never held UFC gold, don’t let that distract you from the legendary career that he had. Some overlook Dan in the all-time greats discussion, but he is without a doubt one of the greatest MMA fighters of all-time.

[autumnslance]

Aeryn has a great relationship with her maternal grandmother and her stepfamily, and enjoys playing auntie to the kids. The rest of her maternal blood relatives has always been a strained relationship, many of them bullying the young Strikers and their mother as Aeryn grew up in Thavnair. Post-Final Days some of them are coming around, but others are simply taking advantage of the fact their relative is the Warrior of Light. Aeryn’s stepsister Rashae has been dealing with a lot of that and trying to keep it from Aeryn, lest she be distressed by her former bullies’ attentions.

As for Aeryn’s paternal family, none of them survived the Calamity. Corran’s mother had disowned him for marrying a “heathen foreign witch who would distract him from his mission” as while not actively heretical herself, she knew and was sympathetic to his and his father’s work. Corran and Emelia had moved villages to get away from her and cut off contact; Emelia didn’t even inform her of Corran’s death nor attempted to talk to her after. She simply took her children and left. But the rest of the Strikers were also in the Eastern Lowlands, and those not killed by the War were lost in the Calamity.

Aeryn prefers the Thavnairian culture and lifestyle she grew up with to the cold, orthodox society of Coerthas. She found little to love about Ishgard’s culture and attitudes in her time there as an adult. While she knows much of that was due to the War and the manipulations of the corrupt Church, she’s also rather relieved she didn’t grow up there after all.

Dark has a great relationship with her parents and many of her siblings and their families; there aren’t many cousins for her to interact with, though, and her mother’s only cousin, that Dark did learn from, died at Carteneau. Dark is an introvert in a large, boisterous family though, many of them leaning more on the extrovert side of the scale, so her natural quiet and need to be alone more often than feasible in such a large cluster of children could cause some strain. As they’re all older and scattered about to their own lives now, it’s actually gotten easier and they’re more understanding.

The loose Hellsguard community Dark’s family belongs to was cut in half by the Garlean occupation of Gyr Abania and the raising of Baelsar’s Wall. Some of them, like her family, had already lived more in the Twelveswood with the blessing of the Elementals. Some fled there as the civil war and subsequent invasion happened, while others stubbornly stayed in East End. Not many of the ones who remained in East End survived thanks to the initial Black Rose experiments, though Dark’s made a project of finding some of the old folks and their scattered relatives to bring answers back to her own family and their neighbors who were missing friends and relations over those twenty-odd years.

C’oretta has a complicated relationship with her mother, her only living relative. C’leiha had no siblings or cousins (that C’oretta is aware of), and Khell was an orphan. They were city miqo’te living as other Ul’dahns, with no traditional clan connections; Khell was never a Nunh, for instance, and their marriage was more like that of their hyuran and lalafellian neighbors. C’leiha’s mental state deteriorated after the Calamity and Khell’s death, the aetheric shifts triggering early onset dementia in addition to her grief and depression. C’oretta had to finally place her mother in a facility to be cared for. Some days C’leiha knows what’s going on and isn’t happy about any of it. Most days, though, she still thinks it’s pre-Calamity and C’oretta is a girl still, and Khell will be home soon.

C’oretta considers herself a regular Ul’dahn girl, and aside from the remaining C in front of her name, has no connection to that tribe or its traditions.

Iyna lost her entire family, her entire village, in the earliest days of the Garlean Empire’s expansions. She barely knows anything about being a Rava Viera at all, learning more from Fran in recent years than she knew growing up.

FXIV Daily Question n°16 : What kind of relationship have your character with their family / tribe / clan ?

[autumnslance]

Tanzel and Emelia sat on the edge of the roof, opposite of the party up front, looking out over the city.

The city glittered and gleamed around them, color and lights rioting under the starry heavens. It was a sight he could never tire of, and from the way Emelia sucked in a breath, it was one she had nearly forgotten, and had not yet taken the time to reacquaint herself with since returning home.

-FFXIV Write 2024 entry 6 Halcyon

I didn't do screenshots during the FFXIV Write, but decided I wanted a scene of these two having their conversation. The best way to get on the roofs of Radz-at-Han is of course via the jump puzzle, which I'm hopeless at. Thanks to @driftward for helping me cheese it to get the sightseeing log entry and these shots!

[autumnslance]

BLINDSIDED and HELPED for the meme!!

(Yes these are taking me awhile. I do not control the rate at which I respond to prompts. You'd think so, but you'd be wrong. *pokes OCs with a stick, gets slapped back*)

send HELPED for a scene from my muse's past in which someone helped / saved them

“I can’t use magic,” Aeryn whispered, the admission stinging. “I’ve tried and tried, and I know it’s there, but it just…won’t come.”

The old woman nodded. “Perhaps one day you will find out how to change that,” she said. “But there is more than magic.”

Aeryn couldn’t help wrinkling her nose.

The old woman chuckled. “Yes, all the platitudes and reassurances you’ve doubtless heard before—but also more than that. Aether is not the only way in which we interact with the world.”

“But aether is everything,” Aeryn answered.

The old woman chuckled. “Spoken like a well-taught academic. Well, my teachings are not those of a university curriculum.”

Aeryn watched and listened, a small frown on her face, head tilted in curiosity. There were those who said the old weaponmaster’s wife was a witch. She hadn’t given the rumors any thought, when her stepfather had arranged her instruction for her requested nameday gift.

The old woman smiled, reaching a hand out. “Tell me, dear, in all your many readings, what did you learn of akasa?”

—-

(This one got a little long, so going below the cut, BUT how about something from my Free Company’s FF16 AU "On Our Fates Alight"…)

send BLINDSIDED for a scene from my muse's past in which they were betrayed or shocked by what someone did

Everything was supposed to have been better, once Emelia brought her children to Thavnair.

Away from Coerthas, away from its never-ending war. Away from the Inquisition and the dragoons, away the betrayal of the village priest.

Away from the loss of her husband and home.

Instead, she stood in the opulent chambers of the Meghaduta, trying not to tremble in the face of divinity.

The great wyrm sighed heavily, pain in his motions. Her eyes flicked to the wounds and burns scarring his massive form. “Worry not,” he intoned, the words clear in her mind as much in her ears. “I shall heal.”

“I’m so…sorry,” she said, the word trite and absurd for the enormity of the situation. “I had no idea…”

Aeryn, so small and young, so timid now since the events in Coerthas, had panicked—and the Manusya Eikon of War, Asura, suddenly stood in her place, roaring in fury, light and fire and storm flashing with each of her many blades.

So Zaine, to protect his sister, had rushed forward, heedless of danger. And then in his place stood Daivadipa, the Mrga Eikon of War, drum rumbling, snakeheads hissing, as he met Asura in battle.

It had taken the island’s protector and true ruler, the Great Wyrm Vrtra of the First Brood, to stop them from leveling Vanaspati.

Her children were Dominants. Her children were Dominants.

Vrtra shook his head. “Thou has but recently returned to our shores, and while the Eikons often take time to manifest, thy recent struggles hath primed thy children to accept the gods’ favor.”

Favor. Not how they would say it in much of the world. Memories of the Inquisition, rumors of Garlean hunters, crowded her mind.

“What do I do?” she asked, voice small.

“The children must be guided, as well as guarded,” the wyrm answered. “They shall be my wards, and I will teach them to control the divinity within. To the rest of the world, they shall be under the care of the Satrap—those of Alzadaal’s line who maintain my secrecy. You understand you are now part of this secret.”

Emelia nodded, mouth dry. “I want to stay with them.”

“Of course,” Vrtra replied, a warm gentleness in his tone she had not expected. “I would not separate them from thee.” He looked away briefly in thought, and she could swear he was frowning. “Emelia, what dost thou know of Aeryn’s Eikon?”

She blinked. “Asura is the Goddess of War; not always well-regarded among our people, who ever strive for peace, under your all-seeing eye. She wields many blades, and has many faces, all aspects of why one fights in war—justice, vengeance, conquest…”

He nodded, stretching his torn wings with a groan. “I hath known many a Dominant of Asura in my time. Yet none have also wielded the power of dragons.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Asura drew not only upon her own power, but upon Aeryn’s own. The inherent qualities of her bloodline have affected this manifestation of the goddess.”

“What are you talking about?” Her voice came in a hoarse whisper, her heart hammering in her chest. What was happening to her baby?

Vrtra’s head hung low. “Many Coerthans carry within them part of my sister, Ratatoskr, betrayed by mortals a thousand years ago. And in the time since, those men call heretics have found ways to strengthen the dragon within, by consuming the blood and essence of other dragons, as their ancestors did her.”

Emelia stepped back, bile rising in her throat. “That’s not how I’ve heard the story,” she said. “They only speak of Nidhogg, and his rage. Regardless, my daughter is five—she’s no heretic, and we’ve never…eaten…a dragon!” The very idea was blasphemy, even if it wasn’t already disgusting.

“No, she hath not committed such a sin herself,” Vrtra agreed. “And yet I sense my sister’s daughter’s blood within her. Thou hast obviously not partaken. Which leaves—”

“No,” Emelia sobbed, clinging to herself.

They had said the old priest was a heretic, secretly corrupting others for decades. Corran had been one of the men in town to spend time with Father Comfraire. Corran had so often worked longer, later, than some of the others, with certain comrades. Strange behaviors, strange scents and stains, strange secrets she had never looked much into; she had her own harmless friendships and interests, didn’t she? She trusted her husband implicitly, why shouldn’t she?

Emelia had seen Asura’s red draconic face, in the place of fiery Vengeance. Heard the goddess cry out in the draconic language as she had slammed magics into the wyrm repeatedly as Daivadipa tried to wrestle her down.

Vrtra tried to continue to explain in his gentle, rumbling tone, but all Emelia could do was fall to her knees and scream.

--

(No I did not proof Vrtra's Elizabethan language maybe later when it goes on Ao3.)

[autumnslance]

Intimacy prompt, #23, anyone except for Aeryn! #41 for Aeryn! :D

(Two prompts, both kinda long, so below a cut it goes!)

23: wearing someone’s clothes

The house was far too quiet.

Iron Summer could hear the sounds of the forest shifting from night to morning songs as the sun slowly rose over the Twelveswood. Inside the house, however, were only the muffled sounds of his wife already in the kitchen preparing breakfast for just the two of them.

It was unusual that they were alone in the sprawling farmhouse; some of their many children usually stayed with them, grandchildren were often present (and sometimes snuggled alongside them in bed, as their parents had years before), even members of Gage Acquisitions were often guests in their home, using the family farm as a safe waypoint when they had to travel through the Shroud.

But at the moment, those children with their own homes—in Gridania, or even elsewhere in Eorzea—were at those homes. A pair were in Ala Mhigo aiding their rebuilding, another in Yanxia helping with theirs. A couple were even in Garlemald, aiding the Contingent’s work (despite Iron’s own ambivalence on that matter). Their youngest was a grown adult now, and training in the Fane.

They had wanted a large family, he and Singing Willow, and the Twelve and Elementals had blessed them, and granted strength through the few losses they had suffered along the way, for what life didn’t experience strife? He was still a luckier man than many.

And a man about to be in trouble, if he didn’t get up as the first rays of sunlight peeked over the windowsill. He heaved himself out of bed and got ready for the day’s work, though some things would have to be put off until at least one of his children, or older grandchildren, came around. He wasn’t as young as he used to be, and Sing had her own work to do—and some of that she could use more help on. Perhaps he ought to consider hiring a field hand and a house worker, though his wife might protest…

Iron frowned as he finished his morning toilet, except he couldn’t find the shirt set out the night before. More curiously, Sing’s clothes were still where she had neatly left them. His eyes narrowed. It had been awhile since she had played this game.

He tromped out to the kitchen, shirtless. “Sing?” he called.

“There you are, love. I thought you might sleep in with how quiet it is.” She had just finished making the usual hearty breakfast that would see him through the day, but was doing so wearing his shirt, far too large for her, one shoulder bare from the wide collar she hadn’t fully buttoned, the hem to her thighs.

It took him a moment to realize she was wearing only his shirt, a saucy smirk on her face as his brows raised. “Well,” he drawled as he moved closer. “It isn’t usual, for us to have the place all to ourselves.”

“No,” she breathed as her hands ran up his chest to his shoulders, his own hands sliding down her sides to find the hem of his shirt. “I thought we might take advantage of that.”

“Breakfast will get cold,” he murmured in her ear.

“I made it to eat either way,” she replied. He laughed; of course she had.

The work could wait, Iron decided. They could take this rare day for themselves.

41: washing each other’s hair 

The sticky heat of Thavnair’s summer persisted even as the sun sank beyond the purple mountains, bathing the sky in warm colors as it journeyed toward the western sea. As her brothers argued, laughed too loudly, and made crude jokes at each others’ expense, Aeryn wished her sisters were along on this season’s trade circuit, but they and the grandmothers had remained in Davarresh due to Rashae’s new baby. There were other families traveling with them; maybe she could sit at one of her friends’ quieter fires later to get some peace.

“Come on,” Mama said, carrying a small basket, towels draped over it. “Let’s go to the river.”

Aeryn leapt at the chance, following her mother away from the caravan, until the sounds were an indistinct hum combining with the background song of Vanaspati’s jungle. They did not have to go far, the path to the riverbank clear, but they did walk alongside it a couple more yalms, putting trees, brush, and a little rocky outcropping between them and the others.

There were already markers among the trees and stones, indicating where it was safe. Sweetly pungent incense smoldered on torches, and even buoys placed a little ways out in the water to keep most creatures away. Even so, the pair swept their eyes over the designated bathing area before stripping their outer layers and playing in the shallow water for a few minutes, soothing the aches and grime from the day’s work.

Aeryn heard the other women and girls making their way down the path; she and her mother had been the first, but by no means were the only ones wanting to relax as camp was set, the next town on their group’s route still half a day’s journey off. “Here,” Mama said as they returned to the edge. “Sit on this rock and I’ll wash your hair, and then you can wash mine.”

The stone left Aeryn half submerged still. Her mother’s sure fingers massaged the foaming soap into Aeryn’s fine hair, nails very gently scratching across her scalp. Her head bobbed in whatever directions needed, any tension or stiffness melting away. Mama was careful to not pull or yank, nimbly untangling any snarls or knots, smoothing the long dark strands. “Rinse,” Mama said quietly, perfectly audible over the background of the others’ conversations and laughter. One hand on the back of Aeryn’s neck, the other on her collarbone, guided her back and down, hair fanning over the water, Mama careful to keep Aeryn’s face just above the surface—harder now, with their friends nearby.

Mama helped Aeryn back up, squeezing the excess water from her hair. “There we are. Now you wash mine; it feels full of dust yet.” They swapped places, and it took Aeryn a moment to realize her mother had maneuvered them to a space off to the side, their backs to the others. Bathing on the road like this was usually a social time—and the other women and girls were making use of that, the day’s work complete, unwinding amongst themselves—but Aeryn appreciated this little pocket of solitude with just the two of them while she worked the sweet-scented foam through her mother’s hair, as fine and black as Aeryn’s own. “I’ve been so busy with helping Rashae lately,” Mama suddenly said as Aeryn massaged her scalp. “I feel it’s been too long since we’ve had time for this.”

“It has,” Aeryn said, realizing how true that was, and how much she had missed her mother’s direct attention. “But it’s all right; we’re here now. And it’s time to rinse.” She helped her mother lean back, carefully balancing to keep her face above water while she washed out the foamy soap.

“You’ve gotten strong, love,” Mama said, smiling up at her. “I’m barely holding myself at all now.”

“Learned from the best,” Aeryn replied, face warm from the praise, from being able to take care of her mother, as Mama had always taken care of her. She helped Mama sit up, squeezing out her long hair for her.

Another woman called to them as they left their little corner, Mama returning the greeting. The other girls called to Aeryn, inviting her to join their game in the slightly-deeper water. Mama laughed and shooed her off to join them, their quiet semi-solitude broken, but the feeling of her mother’s certain hands on her head, in her hair, lingered even as she and Aeryn stepped away from one another.

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2023 Day 6: Ring

“What is all that?” Zero asked as Aeryn set a box on the table. Y’shtola looked up from her own work at Aeryn’s desk, a brow raised.

“A box of my mother’s things,” Aeryn said. “My sister had it brought from Davarresh, since I’m staying in the city…pretty much indefinitely, when in Thavnair. It’s more convenient.”

“Your mother does not need these things?”

Aeryn paused. “My mother died due to an illness several years ago.”

“...Oh.” Zero thought for a moment. “I am sorry.”

Aeryn smiled. “Thank you. It’s all right; I never explained.” She frowned at a small jewelry box among the keepsakes. She picked it up and opened it, showing a gold band with the tiniest of colored gem chips in it, connected by etching to make them look like flowers on a looping vine.

Y’shtola came over to the table, taking a break. “What is that? It looks like—”

“Her wedding ring,” Aeryn said.

—

It was a sunny day, and a good day; Mama was sitting with her on the patio, taking in the fresh warm air. They talked about everything and nothing, simple pleasant conversation; Aeryn’s studies, family gossip, speculation about the trade caravan currently wending its way through Vanaspati and how they missed being on it. Eventually it turned to older memories, things Aeryn could barely remember as Mama told stories of far-away Coerthas and Aeryn’s first father.

“We have so few keepsakes of that time,” Mama sighed. “Everything was lost in the fire, the dragon’s breath was so fierce.” She twisted the ring on her own finger, the light catching the miniscule gem chips. It was looser than it should have been; her hands were thin these days.

Aeryn shrugged, unconcerned. It bothered Zaine and Mama far more than her; she was content to hear their stories. Then again, she carried in a pocket the little worn toy soldier Zaine had left with her, before he went off to Eorzea. Without her.

Mama thought for a moment, then pulled the wedding ring off her hand, holding it out to Aeryn. “Here; I want you to have this. As a keepsake.”

Aeryn’s brow furrowed. “But Mama—”

“The fires that will consume my body won’t be so hot as a dragon’s,” she said quietly. “A remembrance, of what your father and I had, once upon a time.”

Aeryn reluctantly took the band, holding it in her hand. Such a simple thing, still warm to the touch. She nodded, but did not put it on.

Later, after Mama had passed and her ashes interred, Aeryn put the ring in a little jewelry box in her room, left open to show it off and letting the light catch the tiny gems. There were sometimes days she would pick the wedding band up, running her thumb over the design and recalling stories, before putting it away again.

When deciding what few items to take with her to Eorzea, the toy soldier had remained in her pocket, but the ring she did not want to risk being lost or stolen, and so left on the shelf of more recent keepsakes her mother had left her, in her childhood bedroom.

—

“Aeryn,” Y’shtola’s voice, sounding strained, cut through. “Your Echo shared the memory,” she said.

Aeryn blinked, looking at Zero grimacing and Y’shtola holding her own head. “I’m sorry. Still getting used to how that works.” Venat’s brief lessons and learning how to further use her Echo had opened up her still often involuntary abilities. Would that the lessons had included how to make the Echo behave itself, given how sensitive hers was to akasa.

“You’re ambivalent about the ring, even now,” Zero noted.

The Echo of Alberic’s memory rose in her mind, of what her father had truly been. “It’s complicated,” Aeryn said.

She put the ring back in the box. “Its mate was lost to dragonfire when my first father died; maybe someday I’ll figure out what to do with this lonely little band. For now, it’s a reminder of a few old stories, and happy times.”

Times when she had seen it glinting on Mama’s hand, tucking her own hair behind her ears, or how it sparkled near Aeryn’s eyes when her mother wiped her face as a child. Mama had worn it even after marrying Papa and while wearing his bracelet, to “keep both my loves close, especially for my children’s sake.”

Aeryn’s memories of Corran Striker were dim, and mostly belonged to other people—in one unfortunate case, literally. She did not want to associate the ring with him, when everything about it reminded her of her mother.

“First father?” Zero asked.

“Guess it’s time to explain family structures,” Aeryn said. “You somewhat recall your own mother, but the rest seems to be a bit confusing, right?” At Zero’s nod, Aeryn smiled. “I can speak to Hyurs, and Y’shtola’s here to explain Miqo’te; we can make a lesson of it.”

“Indeed,” Y’shtola said quietly, giving Aeryn a sympathetic look.

Aeryn put the open jewelry box on a shelf, to let the lamp and sunlight occasionally catch on the tiny gems, where she could see it and sometimes take it out and run her thumb over the design, and think about her Mama’s love and stories.

[autumnslance]

(@driftward) Glimpes of the past meme. What has AERYN ACHIEVED? A CRITICAL C'ORETTA moment? When was IYNA INJURED? And when Dark, uhhh, Dark.. uhhhh.. AUTUMN AFRAID? And maybe a bonus MORTAL moment with... (wait for it) MEVAN?

Gremlin. All of these prompts on the same doc came to a bit over 4000 words. Half of these words are these scenes.

There's a lot here, so under a cut they go!

send ACHIEVED for a scene from my muse's past in which they completed / achieved something they were proud of

“Top marks again,” Emelia said, smiling brightly. “Even beating out the older students.”

Aeryn shrugged, trying to remain modest but seeing how pleased her parents were made her smile in return.

“Your academic skill has been noticed,” Tanzel said, reaching over to squeeze her skinny shoulder. “My old friend at the High Crucible has been following with interest. He is willing to sponsor your continued studies, on the condition you apprentice with him afterwards.”

“Truly?” Emelia asked, while the grandmothers murmured in the background.

Aeryn frowned. “I like alchemy, but I want to study magic.” She ignored Nani Shaila’s derisive snort.

Tanzel nodded. “I told him so, even with how…difficult, casting has been for you,” he said diplomatically. “But he thinks a well-rounded education in the current theories will be an excellent foundation, given the work they must do for the satrap.”

Her heart beat a bit faster. She could still study what she wanted—she was so close to figuring out how to tap into her aether, she just knew it—and would have secured herself a position in the High Crucible as well. She nodded eagerly, trying to contain her excitement.

Even better, Zaine was coming home on leave in a few days, and she couldn’t wait to tell him.

send CRITICAL for a scene from my muse's past in which they thought about / were reminded of something they're insecure about

C’oretta paused just inside the door of their house, hearing the nurse Master Hamon had insisted upon talking with her mother. “Now then, Miss C’leiha, let’s get this done before your daughter gets home.”

“I told you before, Mida,” C’leiha said. The nurse’s name was not Mida. “Khell wants a big family, but I am not interested in having children.”

C’oretta bit her lip as the nurse took in a deep breath. “Is that so, Miss?” The nurse said mildly.

“Pregnancy is awful, and the changes to one’s health and body, even lasting after, ugh,” C’leiha shuddered. “And I’ve missed opportunities with my career I wouldn’t otherwise. No, we shall not be having a big family. I’d be happy with just the two of us.”

C’oretta forced her smile back on and called “Mama, I’m home!” before she stepped into the room.

C’leiha sat up, beaming. “Oretta! Welcome home, darling, did you have a good day at school?”

Reminding C’leiha that she was training at the Pugilist Guild now wouldn’t be useful, so C’oretta only nodded, still smiling, shrugging slightly at the nurse’s apologetic look.

send INJURED for a scene from my muse's past in which they sustained a significant injury

To all of my children in whom Life flows abundant…

The sky burned. Iyna’s head ached as if struck, though it was her side that felt every flame.

…To all of my children, to whom Death hath passed his judgment…

She had been returning to the Citadel when something had obviously, terribly gone Wrong with the transmitter, Dalamud distantly pulsing red in the sky above.

…The soul yearns for honor, and the flesh the hereafter…

Her flesh was certainly yearning for relief of some kind, though not that of the Lifestream just yet. She pulled herself to her feet, wincing and holding the gushing wound at her side. That wasn’t good.

…Look to those who walked before to lead those who walk after…

Her ears rang, the words hard to make out, but she turned back to where her contacts had risked dropping her off and hobbled that way.

…Shining is the Land's light of justice…

The land was twisted and torn, what parts of the city that hadn’t collapsed burning. She blocked out the sounds and scents of people dying, as she had hundreds of times over the decades.

…Ever flows the Land’s well of purpose…

What the fuck had Garlond done?

…Walk free, walk free, walk free, believe…

She stumbled on, holding her side, calling on years of training and discipline and hate and stubborness to keep going, the ringing sound almost like a song in her ears urging her forward…

…The Land is alive, so believe…

“Iyna!” The familiar voices of her rebel contacts drew near, and she almost wanted to weep in relief. They were still there. They had come to find her, knowing she wouldn’t have gotten to the city proper yet, in her circuitous route to throw off suspicion.

Caution was no longer needed. There would never be a better time.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, swaying into her allies’ arms. “They’ll think I died with the rest.”

“You still might. Gods, this is a lot of blood!”

“Carry her, we have to go.”

A hrothgar scooped her up, and they ran through the burning woods to their transport.

The song continued, a terrible lullaby sending Iyna into dreams of more fiery skies and burning cities.

When she woke days later, side stitched and burns covered, she did not remember the dreams nor the song.

(Later she recognized the voice)

send AFRAID for a scene from my muse's past in which they were scared / under threat

Dark shouldn’t have wandered away from her siblings.

They were noisy even when not chattering and laughing and so she had slipped away to hunt for herself, and had found a nice young antelope she could easily take with her bow.

Then the boar had arrived, scaring off her quarry and staring at Dark with its angry eyes.

She stood frozen, hoping if she just didn’t move one way or another it would go. At thirteen summers, she was taller than many adult Hyurs, but still unmistakably adolescent in her gangly limbs that did not match the size of her hands and feet, nor her still plank-straight torso. Her shortbow’s pull was strong, enough for wildlife up to small deer, but a boar?

It was larger than her, its hide thick and tough, its yellowed tusks long and pointed. It huffed out a heavy breath.

Dark swallowed a whimper and tried to stop her trembling.

It rushed forward. Dark screamed, loosing her arrow instinctively. It pinged off a tusk.

There was a shout, and the boar was body checked by a large roegadyn man, his spear driving into the creature’s side. Dark let loose another arrow. This one, luckily, pierced through the boar’s eye, finishing its ferocious death throes.

She fell to the ground, shaking and choking out a little sob.

Cold Autumn pushed himself off the boar’s twitching, whimpering, dying body. He stood there for a moment, shaking himself, muttering prayers and curses to both Nophica and the Elementals, apologizing for what had transpired, thanking them for the bounty of the boar’s body while keeping his sister safe, promising to see none of the boar wasted. The ritual helped him calm down, giving Dark the time to settle as well, and whisper her own prayers in response, following her eldest brother’s example.

His broad shadow fell over her, and she looked up. His expression of relieved anger was almost more frightening than the boar had been. “I told you to stick with us,” Cold said.

She nodded. She had disobeyed. The others were calling from the woods, hurrying through the underbrush, asking if everything was all right.

“We’re fine!” Cold called, deep voice easily carrying through the woods, slowing their siblings’ rush. He reached down and grabbed Dark’s upper arms, his hands huge and strong as he hauled her to her feet and looked her over. “Hurt?” he asked, tone gentler.

She shook her head.

“Good shot,” he said. “Finished it quicker than I could alone. Don’t do this again, Mouse.”

She nodded, flinging forward to hug him tightly. He returned the embrace, and then led her to rejoin the others.

send MORTAL for a scene from my muse's past in which they had a brush with death, either themselves or someone close to them

The tunnel’s collapse was sudden, no Earth inspired nearby to sense, let alone stop, it. Mevan’s training with the town physicker wasn’t so much interrupted as changed in its course, following him to the site as people were pulled out of the rubble. She and the physicker were kept busy, hours passing in a blur.

She used the basic cleanse inspiration, many of the miners too injured to hiss at the sharpness of the aether scouring their forms. She used alchemical solutions to dull their pains and medicate scraped and torn flesh. She traced her hands over their wounds as if she were stitching them, her inspiration knitting them together. She set broken bones, weaving torn tendons, ligaments, muscles, flesh into whole pieces before splinting the limbs or wrapping the ribs, the spines.

Through it all, Mevan grit her teeth, mouth full of the taste of copper and grit, bones aching, skin tender, innards twisted. She felt each cut and bruise, each break and tear, that her patients experienced, her inspiration’s sympathetic reactions guiding her to what needed healing.

Her back ached, legs tingling as if asleep as she worked on a broken spine. She wasn’t good enough to deal with nerve damage yet; hopefully Master Ildris would come soon, a message had been sent to the enclave…

A shout, as one more body was pulled from deep in the rubble. They called for Mevan, and she ran to see. The man barely breathed, every attempt a shallow, raspy hiss. He was a mass of blood and bruising, limbs crushed and mangled. She set to work.

Sparks danced in her hair as she cleansed him, more blood welling and pooling in places it should not be. His skull had been mostly protected by his helm and luck besides, so there was no brain damage—not from being struck, anyway. She ignored his extremities for now, seeking the damages in his pulverized and punctured torso.

It was so much. Too much, making her sway as blackness crowded her vision. But she sucked in a breath and set to work. Mevan was only Seraphic inspired, but she had aetheric reserves that made even Divines jealous. She could keep going. She had to.

So she began knitting his wrecked organs back together. Clearing and repairing his lungs so he could breathe…but his airways were blocked, so take care of that. That caused a skip in his also damaged heart, so hurry there, finish the lungs in a moment…but now other things were failing, more blood and bile where it shouldn’t be, a cascade that she chased, trying to catch up to the failing pieces. She even tried turning the sympathetic bond around, willing her own organs to remind his how they ought to work—

“Mevan,” Ildris’s voice, soft and sad. Her thin, calloused hand rested on Mevan’s. “Ease his pain. And let him go.”

“But I can—”

“No,” her mentor said. “There are some things beyond even Inspiration. You’ve done more than could be expected, but it’s just as important that we know when to give in to fate.”

Mevan’s vision blurred, from both weariness and tears. The man was too weak to groan, but as deep as she was in his innards, she felt every agony. She withdrew; slowly, carefully, and with Ildris’s guidance, dulled his nerves and released the humors that would make him feel better than he was. Mevan fumbled for one of her vials, pouring it down his throat, sensing further relief as he relaxed, little other sensation left to him as she watched his battered organs fail.

Her own breath paused, briefly, as his finally rattled to a stop.

Mevan slumped against Ildris, who held and rocked her, brushing a kiss across Mevan’s temple, as she had when Mevan was a child and sobbing about how she missed her home, how she couldn’t reach the promise of her inspiration—not until she found her calling to heal.

“I know,” Ildris said. “The first is the hardest.”

“It gets easier?” Mevan rasped, her vision swimming, darkening as she shivered; she had been healing for hours, and this had been the worst. She had hit aethershock.

“No,” Ildris admitted, as Mevan’s consciousness faded away.

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2023 Day 12: Dowdy

Since the moment she was put into clothes for the first time as a newborn infant, Aeryn Striker had Opinions about what she wore.

From the feel of the fabric to its color to the number of buttons or hooks or strings, to the patterns and designs, cut and quality, the child was pickier than her parents often knew what to do with. Her elder brother was the first to realize the baby’s fuss came from disliking certain clothing items.

Unfortunately for tiny Aeryn, her parents were not wealthy, and clothing for an active, fast-growing child in a farming community needed to be economical above all else. So hand-me-downs from her brother and other village children, and cheap, sturdy fabrics that could take the wear and tear and staining, and could be let out for a time until she entirely outgrew them.

There were tears and pouts, shouts and crying, when she didn’t like her outfits. One summer morning everyone had a good laugh as Corran tried to catch an entirely naked three-year-old racing through the village.

In the end, Zaine could usually, mostly, get Aeryn to acquiesce for a time, distracting her with treats or toys or exploration or other childish games. Her natural inquisitiveness and sense of adventure could make her temporarily forget the uncomfortable, the shapeless, the ugly.

And she would “lose” things she particularly hated, in convoluted ways that left them unsalvageable. Otherwise Zaine would just find them and make her wear them again.

Finding outfits Aeryn did like came with their own problems of her wanting to wear them always, until entirely stained and discolored, and worn all the way through; they rarely lasted long enough for her to grow out of, and there was no handing them off to someone else’s child.

“She’ll eat everything put in front of her, listen to long sermons politely, be quiet when asked—and given a ‘good’ reason, sure, but still,” Emelia sighed. “I do not know what we are going to do if she ‘loses’ another pair of shoes, let alone this year’s winter coat.”

These habits only changed slightly on the family’s move to Thavnair.

The lighter fabrics felt better, and the patterns and designs, the colors and embellishments, all pleased Aeryn greatly. Some of it was the novelty at first, but even once she was used to the Hannish styles, she found…less to complain about.

She was old enough to no longer streak through the neighborhoods in fits of toddler petulance, for which Emelia thanked every divinity, and hoped the worst of this particular difficulty finished.

—

It could be said that Nani Shaila didn’t really get along with anyone, but she particularly disliked Zaine and Aeryn. The mother of Tanzel Eadir’s late wife, Nani Shaila resented his marriage to Emelia, feeling her own daughter was being replaced, regardless of her grandchildren assuring her otherwise.

She stayed under Tanzel’s roof for them…and also because none of her other children wished to deal with her. Tanzel was a man of patience and a firm enough will to mostly keep his first mother-in-law in line. His own mother, and new mother-in-law, helped.

But Tanzel was also a busy man and important to their Coooperative’s business dealings. So of course, the first time back in Radz-at-Han since her mother had married Tanzel (whom Aeryn liked quite a lot, but still felt painfully shy around), it was Nani Shaila minding the younger children as they went shopping in the Bazaar. And Aeryn being the youngest of all the Eadir children, Nani Shaila felt she had to keep the little girl at her side the whole time.

“I’m eight, Nani,” Aeryn tried to remind her. “I’m big enough to go ‘round by myself. I’ll even run errands for you!”

“Hrmph,” Nani Shaila looked down her nose. “You’re scrawny for eight,” she said again. “And tend toward trouble besides. Oh, you’ll complete the errands—in your own time and way, and I shall be left to clean up after you.”

“Or send Rashae to do it,” Aeryn said, before thinking. She winced, and then winced again when Nani Shaila gave her cheek a finger-flick. 

“Mind that impudent tongue, girl,” her step-Nani said. “Just for that, the book stall’s where we shall visit last. Now take my hand; it’s far too busy today and you’ll get stepped on by an Arkasodara otherwise.”

Aeryn doubted that, but slipped her hand into Nani Shaila’s iron-claw grasp and hurried after her longer stride. She said nothing else, paying half-attention as Nani Shaila visited various shops and stalls, many of them wholesalers, haggling for prices, and having her goods packaged and delivered to the Cooperative’s building.

“Almost done,” Nani Shaila said over three hours later. The sun was well past noon, it was hot and sticky-humid, and Aeryn was tired, hungry, and bored. Her arm seemed nearly pulled from its socket, drug about by Nani Shaila all afternoon. It wouldn’t be so bad if it were her own Nani Zahra, or even Dodi Anya. But they wouldn’t have kept her at their sides and then complained about her being underfoot all day, either.

Still, Aeryn perked up when she saw where they were headed next; a dress shop, yalms of colorful, silky fabrics on display out front.

“Hrm. I hear they’ve come under new management,” Nani Shaila said. “Behave yourself.”

Which meant “don’t touch anything,” which was quite possibly the worst thing ever.

The Hyur shopkeeper behind the counter had a mustache, so Aeryn supposed he was grown up despite how roundly soft and smooth his face was, and that he was only as tall as her Nani. He smiled too broadly and greeted them. “Welcome, madame, welcome! What might I do for you and your grandchild on this fine day?”

Most of the other shopkeepers had immediately recognized Nani Shaila as a Cooperative representative. Many of them had known her (unfortunately) for years, but others had taken one look at how she wore her jewelry, turban, and dress and knew.

But this man was young, and new, so maybe he didn’t know how to tell yet. Aeryn watched him, since she was allowed to do little else.

“We had a deal with your predecessor, and I mean to see if that might continue.”

“Mmm, yes of course. I cannot honor any prior bargains, of course; times change, prices go up, and if one doesn’t keep up, well one doesn’t keep a shop. But I’m sure we can come to an equitable arrangement.”

Nani Shaila’s eyes narrowed. “Hmph. We’ll see. To start, young man, I want to check on bolts of Doman silk.”

“Ah, yes of course. Just a moment, let me go find those for you…” He turned and began checking the stacks behind him.

“They’re right there,” Aeryn said, pointing to a rack covered in a brilliant rainbow of bolts. She was fairly certain an adult should have been able to see it from the counter.

“Why yes, good eye, little one!” the clerk said. “If it had been a bhujamga it would have bit me. So many things to keep track of.”

Nani Shaila squeezed her hand in a warning, but Aeryn really was trying to be helpful, and the clerk seemed glad for it.

“Here we are then, madame, the finest and newest of Doman silk!” He lifted up one of the bolts. Aeryn saw dust on the cloth when it caught the light. “Perfect for a new sari, or even just something to spruce up an old market dress, eh?”

“This is a new dress,” Nani Shaila said coolly, checking the edge of the silk. “But I see your meaning.”

“I perhaps misspoke to say ‘old’ when I meant more…classically styled.”

“You’re wearing last season’s style,” Aeryn said. “And it’s not even fit right.”

“Aeryn.”

“But Nani—”

The clerk frowned now. “Your grandchild doesn’t know when to stay quiet, I take it?”

“She does unfortunately tend to be honest,” Nani Shaila said. It took both Aeryn and the clerk a moment to realize what she had just said. “I believe we’ll be shopping elsewhere. Good day.”

She turned, dragging Aeryn along as she strode out of the shop. 

They were halfway down the block when Nani Shaila suddenly laughed. She had a sharp, cackley sort of laugh that Aeryn didn’t hear very often. “I meant to drag that out longer before laying into the poor fool, but his face! Leave it to you to know when something’s wrong concerning clothes.”

“So I’m not in trouble?”

Nani Shaila looked down her nose at Aeryn. “There’s still time in the day,” she answered acerbically, then paused and looked along the road again. “But I suppose it is past time we went to the book stall.”

Aeryn grinned. It may not have been the best day, and there weren’t new clothes nor even bolts of cloth to make any, and she was still stuck with Nani Shaila, but it wasn’t all bad.

[autumnslance]

Commission of Emelia and Corran Striker, Aeryn's parents; artist is Barn-Swallow. Lovely to work with, will try to comm again in the future. And I do so love the details!

Carrd Twitter

I did not mention that Vrtra was a secret when I supplied the references; just that he was important to Emelia's homeland and its lore, and that his motif should be on her side. The refs for Emelia were in the Thav Wool dress, and I mentioned roughly style, fabrics, colorful. I always give creative license for artist cuz MMO clothes. So she designed that dress and when in the color checks I saw that just one little bit of green, tying Em back to the dragon on her side, I was gleeful.

Especially since Corran is pretty well dressed as his references, including an entirely red shirt, tying him much more closely to Avengret. Also he's such a handsome dork, with his lovely bride and not quite realizing how in over his head he is.

Also if you look closely, Emelia has a nose piercing. That's actually something I want for Aeryn in game someday too.

I'm loving this piece. It's so pretty.

[autumnslance]

(@driftward) Send-a-heart? How about three? 💘 fake relationship / mutual pining / dared to kiss, 🤍 kiss at the wedding / milestone, 🖤 kissing while crying / goodbye kiss / desperation

Some bots are menaces. 3 short scenes, what finally came to mind, not maybe what's expected in all cases:

💘 fake relationship / mutual pining / dared to kiss

The Imperial soldiers were close, having taken note of movement in the alley.

“Swiving—Can you follow my lead?” Iyna asked quietly.

Valdeaulin frowned. “I think so—”

“Then push me against the wall—quick!” she maneuvered herself into position.

He hesitated only briefly, dropping his staff to the ground before doing as she asked, standing close, hands on her shoulders. As the first soldiers came around the corner and shone their light down the alley, she almost startled him by laughing.

“Darling! We’re going to be seen like this!”

“Who’s there?” A soldier demanded.

Iyna pretended to let out a giggly little shriek of surprise. “Looks like you were right, dear,” Valdeaulin said a little too loudly, trying to affect a slightly-drunken stagger while pawing at his partner. He blinked at the Garleans. “Oy, we’re havin’ a moment, here!”

“Ugh, bloody savages,” the soldier grumbled. “Get back to your homes, citizens.” 

“Unless you’re willing to share,” his partner said just loud enough for them to hear as they began to stagger together down the alley, Iyna “accidentally” kicking the “stick” on the ground ahead of them, the Garlean’s light having already turned away.

“Really?” the first soldier said as they moved on.

They sighed in relief. “That was a little too close,” Valdeaulin muttered. “We need to get back to Severa and the others.”

—-

🤍 kiss at the wedding / milestone

“And now, by the grace of Halone, and in the Light of the Crystal’s Blessing, I pronounce you husband and wife!” Comfraire decreed, smiling.

Emelia laughed as Corran dipped her into a passionate kiss, the few gathered friends cheering and laughing with them, colorful spring flower petals falling around them in the soft, warm winds of Coerthas.

—

🖤 kissing while crying / goodbye kiss / desperation

“Go go go!” Howling Rain shouted as the debris from the moon exploded onto the battleground. He tracked Dark Autumn, her long-legged stride taking her from the field; fast enough? Twelve, he hoped so; he had sworn to his cousin he’d watch out for her girl. This was the best he could do now.

He lost sight of Dark, which meant she had no sight on him, and he finally allowed himself to slump and then fall, the wound on his side from that imperial halberd bleeding heavily.

“Howl!” Dancing Lily crawled toward him, one of her legs mangled by magitek. He reached out, hauling her closer as soon as he could grab her armor.

There was an odd second of silence as Dalamud pulsed, fire running up the artificial slides to let loose whatever was inside.

Dance tried to staunch the bleeding on his side, weeping.

“Hey, pretty lady,” he said lightly. He tucked his hand under her chin, making her look up. His own face was wet, thinking absurdly how she would never dance again, even if they had the Spinner’s luck in getting out of this hell. “I love you, Dance.”

Sound returned, drowning out her response, but he didn’t need to hear it when he saw the shape of the words in her mouth. He leaned in to kiss her one last time as the moon exploded and fire rained down.

[autumnslance]

Soon...

In FFXIVWrite2020, I wrote a prompt near the end about a secret Alberic kept, concerning my WoL, Aeryn's, past. In FFXIVWrite2021, I ended up writing quite a few more prompts about that, creating a story about Corran Striker's actions, what Alberic did and why, and the dragon at the center of it all, an ancient red named Avengret.

I've finally gotten a draft more or less hammered out; re-ordering, revising, adding, removing, and shuffling the original prompts into an actual (I hope) story. I'll be posting to Ao3 every few days, with notifications here on Tumblr (and probably other places).

In the meantime, the initial prompts in their original versions and order for perusal (and for me to see how very much I've done with this...). Set in that nebulous time between the very end of Shadowbringers and the start of Endwalker, there might be some random out of context spoilers for sprouts not through those expansions yet.

1. Paternal - X’rhun discovers a past truth Alberic keeps hidden. 2. Aberrant - Backstory; Corran Striker starts his doomed path. 3. Scale - Backstory; more of Corran’s heretical history. 4. Baleful - Keeping the Warrior of Light out of trouble is tough. 5. Passion - Corran & Emelia’s spicy followup to “Aberrant” 6. Speculate - Backstory, Ser Alberic Bale seeing through a promise. 7. Friable - Backstory. Vignettes of Emelia’s POV over time. 8. Heady - A reason Alberic feared Aeryn meeting Avengret. 9. Preaching to the Choir - Brotherly understanding after “Heady.” 10. Strained - Immediate follow up to "Preaching", more Estinien. 11. Thunderous - Aeryn finally Echoes That Moment from Alberic. 12. Devil’s Advocate - Plans to deal with Avengret are debated. 13. Soul - Aeryn has concerns about Alberic versus Avengret. 14. Bow - The team attempts their plan against Avengret.

[autumnslance]

👎 = Is there anyone in your muse’s family they dislike, why? for Aeryn

Most of the Ranaz side of the clan; Emelia's birth family.

Emelia's the youngest of five; two older brothers, two older sisters. She was a bit babied by their mother, Zahra, as a result, and while her brothers paid her little mind, her sisters had a few more Opinions on what they saw as leniency for Emelia that they did not receive.

Then Emelia left for thirteen years, and after disinterest in all her suitors in Thavnair, she married some foreigner from a heathen land where they warred with the divine, and only returned after a disaster she should have long seen coming.

You can maybe see the start of the issues there.

Emelia and her sisters did not get along, and Zaine and Aeryn's cousins were predisposed by the aunts' influence. Being part-Coerthan was an easy target for the few bullies they ran into, and Aeryn unable to speak for nearly a year due to traumatic mutism made things harder.

Zahra still isn't sure where she went wrong with her older children, but is fairly certain it's her fault, despite Emelia and the Eadirs all telling her differently. Aeryn's stepsister, Rashae, is of the opinion her step-cousins are simple brats, doted on by their own mothers and influenced by fathers who care more of their trades and profits.

There's at least one story of one of the cousins running afoul of Rashae's rare temper, as some of the Ranaz family seek now to profit off Aeryn's status as Warrior of Light and Savior of the Star, and how the satrap looks to the Cooperative to help rebuild Thavnair, though he works primarily with Rashae as their representative.

Aeryn...mostly avoids her Ranaz relations when she can. She does the bare minimum required for politeness and civility when she must, but otherwise does not interact with them. The Eadirs are her family and that's enough.

If any of the Ranaz relatives did try to push Aeryn around now, they would sorely regret it, no matter how much she holds back. Her bardic skills and witticisms have sharpened over the years, and the reticence of her youth has fallen away as she's gained confidence. She's a 30ish year old Warrior of Light now, not the little girl they used to push around.

[autumnslance]

Bearing Sins of the Past Ch 3 Passion

(The one with the Spice)

Then she cupped his face in her hands and he thought perhaps he could ascend to the Heavens after all. “This isn’t like you; are you alright? What did you drink tonight?”

“Something new. Think I’ll try it again—if you’ve no objections.” He rocked against her.

Emelia gasped and shivered, then bade him pause, swallowing hard. “Just the one,” she said.

Corran blinked, confusion warring with the fiery instincts raging within him.

She giggled, still blushing. “The kitchen hasn’t a door, let alone a lock, to keep a little boy at bay should he wake.”

He laughed now, perhaps too loudly, as she tried to hush him. He scooped his wife into his arms to carry her to their bed to love and worship her as she deserved.

Chapter 3 is now live on Ao3!

Mind this is the story's single sex scene, there's additional tags/notes in the summary at the top.

This is also the only time flashback chapters are back to back.