#FFXIV Fanfic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

idalenn · 2 months ago

Text

Day 4 - Reticent

Worqor Zormor - Lillian and Alisaie switch up the plan to harry the Second Promise. (7.0)

Major characters: Warrior of Light, Thancred, Urianger

Full text below the cut

Quick as a lie, Lillian’s hand snapped away from her forehead and a golden cord yanked Alisaie whole into her grip.

“We’re changing the plan,” Lillian growled, twisting the younger girl around to get at the leather tube slung across her back. “Alisaie, you and Krile stay with Wuk Lamat, and I’ll head off the others at the pass instead.”

“What’s come over you,” the girl cried. “So. Suddenly?” Wrenching with all force in her Elezen frame, she tried to free herself to no avail. Lillian’s arms were muscle woven with steel.

“Thancred got the best of us. Heard all we – quit moving – intended. They’ll expect your harassment up ahead.” Her deft fingers slid around the tube’s hooks, undoing them one after another. So much easier without gloves, she thought. In short order the map was flapping in her hand. “But not mine.” Krile nodded, clarity writ plain on her face.

“The Echo. We’ll leave this to you, then.” She knocked their Hrothgar claimant across one hand with the dripping end of her brush. “Worqor Zormor awaits us, Third Promise. Our friend will rejoin us once she’s finished.”

Confusion reigned over Wuk Lamat’s own expression. “Does anyone care to enlighten me on this?”

“It must needs be later, I’m afraid. Just run for now. I’ll do my best to inform you of the basics on the way.”

“So it goes.” Wuk Lamat’s shoulders slipped with a heavy sigh. Beyond a protesting Alisaie, Lillian hurriedly crumpled the map into a long green pocket of her cape. “I bring you into my circle for help and you look to escape me at the first chance. Sometimes I think you just can’t toler-AH–” Wind took the rest of her words, loose earth and shards of rock showering the remaining party as Lillian raced off with its power at her back, yalms melting away with each stride.

Up the path she went dodging around fallen stone outcroppings and growths of blue and violet crystal, the image of the Second Promise’s ascension on a column of air with Thancred and Urianger in tow still burned into her eyes. Not one soul in that damned town malms below had mentioned that was a possibility. Or perhaps her attention had fallen off at the wrong time in conversation and missed its passing mention in one of many grand tales she had been forced into hearing, some unexplainable act that had allowed the defeat of a rampaging beast like Valigarmanda. That was the irritating part about scholars like Koana; legends always held a grain of truth, and those learned as he always knew how to exploit those grains. Like as not down in the valley there existed some Sharlayan device he’d built capable of calling tempests to aid him.

Irritated, she slammed her staff into the mountain face and flooded it with aether. Juts of jagged, black stone ground out, dislodging flora that had lain root in the rock and birds that had found roost in the plants. Once extended enough for use, she bound up the cantilevered platforms, staff readied, its tip alight with pearlescent aether. One bird arrowed towards the Miqo’te, squawking complaint till light and petrichor found their mark, the smell of roast windkin filling Lillian’s mouth with water and nearly sending her feathered cap flying into the abyss. She almost shed a tear as the bird tumbled limp trailing feathers through the clouds.

After the last step, Lillian found herself on a mountain ledge flanked by a low rise of boulders and flowered moss. She drew out the time weathered map and flattened it on the ground, tsking at a tear she made in her haste to abscond. Wuk Lamat had been correct, but why waste time and confirm to the child claimant what she already knew? She was haughty, naïve, self-absorbed, and above all, a fool who believed Lillian’s actions took her well-being into consideration.

Were you not similar once, and did you not learn better? The voice of logic nagged. Quiet. Never so much as she, Lillian thought back, smoothing the spot Thancred pointed out to the Second Promise; a wide pass dotted with the ruins of ancient walls

“Alisaie plans to harry us here. She’s a quick-footed little pest, but we’ve battled alongside long enough for me to know exactly where her faults lie, and I’ve been itching for the opportunity to knock her down a peg or four. I’ll have her in bed without supper and you your victory before the Third Promise realizes she’s been made.”

We’ll see if you can manage the same against me, she thought, stuffing the map back down, wind licking at her heels as she ran. Beastkin poked their soft, red noses from their dens as she passed and retreated just as quickly. Excitement made her ears unable to stay still. They beat a dangerous leather heartbeat against their coverings sewn into her cap. Her thoughts were smothered, but so were the land’s whispers.

The ruins were a short jaunt away. There, the ground was soft and pocketed with fist-width craters filled with tepid water. Vegetation grew verdant from the civilization’s desiccated corpse to cover the bones in green embrace.

There it was. Along the path to the mountain’s summit, a towering stone barrier stood solemn. Dutiful. For a Miqo’te clad in forest colors: easily concealed behind. Some great hand had torn a hole through its skin and left a passage from ruin to path providing the perfect redoubt from which to utilize a White Mage’s magic against unwary passersby. Lillian sprinted across the sodden field, her mind bursting with all the possibilities to slow down her opponents.

As she reached the hole, a white blur faded into the open space.

A reticent blur of white absent of sound, of tension, of presence and definition. The pressure of existence swelled gradually with each fifth of moment. Her brain fired desperately on every available detail.

Bulk; clothing; the jangling of canisters; his interwoven bandolier; plant musk hiding his scent.

Thancred?

Who could claim the greater surprise? Not he, who knew of a coming. Not her, who knew of an arriving.

But if anything, he didn’t appear surprised at all. In fact, he was even –

Smiling?

A strong, hardened jaw stared back at her, yellow teeth glinting from a light growing –

From below?

A tickle started in her brain. Understanding came before the knowing.

Water flew into her hand from the puddle below before growing outward in a blue, glass-thin sheen in the path of the gunblade’s edge, hardening into a shield faster than the blooming muzzle flash. The explosion sent her flying back in a trail of dust and smoke. Powder smell filled her nose. Her ears rang with a cannon blast. Wind gathered thick around in a shroud of green aether to carry her from danger, willing herself to land upright on stable ground.

But as she did, a sigil circled with arcane letters expanded across the stone.

Rolling in the air, her hand wreathed in blinding green tore across the space as a wave of wind struck her full in the side mere ilms from the sigil, lifting the Warrior of Light to send her tumbling bodily across the ground and out of the way of harm as the sigil vanished in a thunderclap of dust and heat. Coughing up more dust caught in her throat, she turned blazing yellow eyes to the cloud of soot obscuring her would-be assailants.

“Bastards… the both of you.” She rose on shaking legs. Shards of broken stone had ripped tears in the cloth of her garb. Blood sheathed from a deep, muddy cut on her arm, but nothing else felt broken.

“Come now, we’re all friends here, and what’s a scuffle between friends.”

Thancred sauntered out from the debris, a shite-eating grin ballooning across his handsome features. Following suit with a light chuckle was Urianger, his astrometer spinning at the ready with cards prepped for reading.

“Our comrade believeth her hand superior to thine own.”

“Count yourself lucky that Alisaie hadn’t been the one around that corner.” Lillian spat a globule of saliva laced with red. “You might have killed her.”

“And I would have been eternally guilty for the act, make no mistake.” Somehow Thancred’s smile grew wider. “But, thankfully, no luck was necessary. You came around just as I had planned.”

“Planned? Ha!” Lillian tossed back her head to laugh. The movement made her wince. “Unless one of you can divine the future, my being here is all luck. And where has the Second Promise gone?”

“Ahead,” Thancred said.

“Thou would beggar of us an explanation?”

“Please. I’m all ears – hold…” She held up a finger hazy with radiant white and plunged the digit into her ringing ear. As the aether healed the damage from Thancred’s attack, the plants around her feet withered into brown husks and crumbled to join the dirt. “Apologies – Now I’m all ears.”

“Your Echo.” Thancred wore the face of a child swimming in an ocean of unwrapped candies. At Lillian’s widened eyes, he continued. “A most useful tool in our adventures, being allowed to witness past events as they occurred. But only as they occurred.”

“Of strength in sight does it boast, yet Master Thancred, awash in inspiration and long accustomed, privy to thine Echo’s potency, hath discovered the flaw in its making.” He held a hand to his lips and laughed lightly. Lightly and restrained. “Deceived we were, as means to deceive you.”

Lillian shook her head. “Somehow I believe this is just some trick to keep me here.”

“Oh, you were tricked, all right. Now your turn comes – what did the Echo show?”

“And why would I tell you?”

“You saw us discussing plans with Koana; plans to ambush Alisaie; plans in which I spoke of knocking her down a peg or four? You witness events exactly as they occur, so once we witnessed you succumb to the Echo’s effects…” Thancred placed a hand to his forehead.

“Into the fold were the Second Promise and I giveth allowance, and a trap thus lain for our dearest friend.”

Thancred’s fingers drummed along the gunblade’s handle. “Do pass on my thanks to Alisaie. Had it not been for her plot on Ultima Thule confirming you’ve density common with archon loaf, this endeavor may not have been as fruitful as hoped.”

The skin under Lillian’s left eye began to quiver. White aether burst at her wounded arm as the dirt crumbled into fine powder under her boots. “I hope you realize what you’ve earned.” Her words came out as a low hiss, the corners of her mouth twitched ever so slightly upward.

“A prize, I wager! And a prize Urianger and I have wished so long to taste.”

“Indeed. We bringeth all our might to bear, that we may witness might worthy of song and notoriety, what bringeth even eikons to heel.”

With a malicious cacophony, like to an endless sea of keening glass, from Lillian’s back spread opalescent wings of aether aflame, size and ferocity swelling until she was rendered a silhouette before their crescendo. Sensation of needles prickled against the Scions’ skin, and the myriad wounds below notice across her flesh steamed forth white clouds until hale and closed.

“Try not to choke on it.”

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxiv fanfic #ffxivwrite2024 #I love Temperance. i think it could be scarier.#7.0 lillian post character development isn't she beautiful

27 notes · View notes

thevikingwoman · 2 months ago

Text

FFXIVWrite2024 - Prompt 10

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV | Words: 227

Meryta Khatin (wol) | ARR patches Rating: Gen. Just chocobo feelings

Stable

Meryta leads Lucida, her chocobo, into the stables in Mor Dhona. The yellow bird chirps, and shakes her head when Meryta untacks her. She finds some gysahl greens and feeds her, then Meryta cleans and hangs the tack.

She goes back to the stall, and rests her forehead against Lucida’s feathers. The bird gently touches her beak against her horn, making her smile. So much is happening. A Royal banquet, a new alliance with the reclusive nation of Ishgard. It’s very much over her head, but she hopes she doesn’t make a fool of herself and the Scions.

Lucida chirps and bonks her again.

“I got it, I got it.”

She finds an apple in her pouch, and a handful gysahl more. She remembers when they first were introduced in Bentbranch Meadows, what now feels so long ago. Meryta was unaccustomed to chocobo, used to the horses of the Steppe and deeply suspicious of the long legged birds. Lucida won her over, though, her demeanor sweet - as long as treats are on the horizon. Meryta checks her legs and claws. Everything looks fine.

“You be good here, while I’m in Ul’dah. We’re travelling by aetheryte. No need to arrive dusty for the fancy banquet.”

Hopefully everything will go smoothly, and she won’t have to say much. Lucida will be fed and happy here in the meantime.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite2024 #ffxiv fanfic #final fantasy 14 fanfic #listen I love chocobos they are just very shaped #but I don't have a lot of lucida lore #so a little moment #before everything HEH #she knows something is up with the crystal braves but didn't connect it to the banquet at all #arr patch spoilers #meryta khatin #writing about meryta #viking does ffxivwrite2024 #published 9/10/2024 #viking writes

20 notes · View notes

wilanserulia · 2 months ago

Text

FFXIVWrite2024 - Prompt 2 - Horizon

The squawking of seagulls and the sound of the waves were often the only noises you could hear, out in the Rhotano sea. That day a flock of the marine birds had gathered nearby a lonely fishermen’s boat, the only thing on the waters’ surface for malms and malms. A young boy stares wistfully at the expanse of water around himself, leaning over the boat’s edge, his green eyes scouring the blue sea as if hoping to see something over the horizon.

“Wilan!” shouted a warm, but rough voice, and from the sound of it it wasn’t the first time he’d been trying to catch the kid’s attention. Startled, the boy turned around. “Yes, father?” he hurried to reply. “By the Navigator, would you stop gawking at the water and help us? I take you out at sea so that you can learn the trade, not enjoy the view” Wilan could hear the waning patience in his father’s voice. He wasn’t in a hurry to have the same discussion once again, so he hurried to do as he was told and joined a couple more fishermen as they were working on fishing nets. Dutifully, he sat down and started disentangling the net as he was shown, doing his best to stay focused. The young hyuran boy had no love for the profession. He hailed from a small island to the west of Vylbrand, and he knew not much else of the world beyond the shores of his homeland. What little land he had access to, however, he thoroughly enjoyed exploring, often leaving home for afternoon expeditions around the island, sometimes taking his little brother along but most of the time by himself. He knew it like the back of his hand by now, every hideout, every shortcut, every vantage point. But his heart ached for more. Increasingly often, he would climb to the island’s highest point and just stared at the horizon. That was the whole reason he was happy when, once he was about ten summers old, his father told him it was time he’d start joining him out at sea to learn the profession. Finally, he thought, a chance to escape the suffocating confines of this island! To see the big, vast, incredible world that he had only heard bits and pieces about from other fishermen. At least, that’s what he had hoped. Yet there he was, in the middle of the sea, with a whole lot of nothing all around him. He had never been this far from home, and yet he felt even farther away from anything worth seeing, now that he realized just how big the Rothano Sea was.

A tap of webbed feet caught his attention, pulling him out of his self-wallowing. A seagull had landed on their craft, caught an anchovy in its beak and flew back up in the air the moment his father shooed it away. He followed it his gaze, flying in large circles around their boat, and then out toward the sea. Toward the horizon.

“...Dad?” “Hm?” his father asked, looking up to see his firstborn staring once again out to the sea. The kid was pointing eastward. “What’s over the horizon?” he asked, his voice quiet, but barely hiding a burning curiosity. His old man sighed and followed the direction he was pointing at. After taking a moment to orient himself with the sun, he replied “That way? Galadion Bay. There’s better fish out here though.” “More sea, then...?” “Aye. But a bay is not exactly open sea. It’s near a landmass, so the currents are different there, and that means...” “So there’s land that way!?” Wilan asked excited, interrupting his father. “And there’s people?” The fisherman tried to keep his calm with a long breath. One of the other fishermen, however, chimed in. “Aye boy. Limsa Lominsa’s that way.” The kid’s ears perked up. “What’s Limsa Lominsa?” “Biggest city this side of the Strait of Merlthor.” supplied another. It’s something else, that place.” “A city? Will we go there!?” the boy inquired, his imagination already conjuring up dozens of versions of this settlement. “Will we go fish there?” “No one fishes that close to that kind of city, boy.” bit back his father, evidently annoyed by his son’s daydreaming. “But we go there when we have too much fish, to sell the excess at the market.” Wilan’s eyes flew wide. “Can I come next time you go sell fish then? Dad, please!” “Enough of this, boy! Get back to work!” “But dad, I want to see the cit―” “Not another word!” he all but shouted, rising to his feet. Everyone on the boat fell quiet. “That city’s no place for a kid like you. Your head’s already full of nonsense, and the last thing you need is going to a place where people believe they can just do what they want in life. What you’re gonna do is honest work, you’re gonna learn how to fish and you will like it, is that clear? The kid bowed his head, pursing his lips, his traveler’s heart aching, the horizon’s call as tempting as it had ever been. “Is that clear!?” his father asked again, raising his voice. “Yes, father.” Wilan all but whispered.

#FFxivWrite #FFxivWrite2024 #Wilan #gpose #ao3 #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #FFXIV fanfic #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #FF14 #FFXIV WoL #FFXIV OC #FFXIV OC Lore #Hyur

20 notes · View notes

umbralaether · 2 months ago

Text

FFXIV Write 2024

Day 1: Steer

Steer clear of Pandaemonium, lest you never return.

Astraea had heard the whispering about Pandaemonium, how the wardens and creatures alike were imposing and dangerous. You certainly did not want to be caught poking around where you shouldn't be, as the place was off limits for most people.

Still, her creation locked away here? Unfair, and certainly stunk of ulterior motives.

She stalked silently along the shadows, trying to sense the creature she was looking for. She pulled her hood tighter to her head, obscuring her face from the wandering watcher of this section. Slowly, she approaches the cell where Cactua was being held.

"Finally… free…!"

The voice that popped into her head was not her own, but that of Cactua. Somehow, telepathic speech was it's preferred method of communicating, though it seemed to only work one way at this time.

"Shh.. Yes, yes Cactua. I'll get you out of there."

Astraea worked quickly to unlock the door. Hades had told her explicitly not to come here, to let what had been confiscated stay that way. It wasn't worth her status, her reputation, to be caught in Pandaemonium of all places.

Click!

Cactua does what Astraea only assumes is a dance of joy, before it quickly ducks itself under her robes and out of sight. Now all she has to do is make her way out of here…

She makes a quick incantation to perform the teleportation spell to take her home and just as the aether begins to fizzle around her, her heart stops.

There, a short distance away, piercing blue eyes bore into her own. Arms crossed, a woman with brown hair begins her way towards her before the spell whisks her away.

Somehow, Astraea feels the icy prickle of that gaze even back at home.

#ffxiv #FFxivWrite2024 #FFxivWrite #my writing #ffxiv write 2024 #astraea #my azem #ffxiv Azem #ffxiv ancients #ffxiv fanfic #ffxiv writing

24 notes · View notes

capriccio-ffxiv · 9 months ago

Text

NSFW version of this poll (asking about other, ahem, anatomy) available here

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv miqo'te #hrothgar #ffxiv hrothgar #ffxiv #miqo'te #ffxiv roleplay #ffxiv fanfic #ffxiv lore #ffxiv headcanons

61 notes · View notes

neneru-nowhere · 3 months ago

Text

Getting to actually enjoy myself at the moment instead of just sleeping off my covid. Made it to Fantasy Texas in FFXIV. Wander into town and the first thing that happens is I run into trouble with the local gang.

Erenville is like "Whoah, I know unspeakable bloodshed is your thing, but we don't want to get in trouble with the law"

except I'm a three foot nothing toddler with a juice box and a bad attitude. My main weapon is a paint brush and an overactive imagination. These bandits are thinking "The only person this kid is going to upset is a preschool teacher" but they're wrong.

I draw my brush and mutter "Y'all just painted yourselves into a corner, amigos."

#This town ain't big enough for the two of us #Was that a short joke?#ffxiv arr #ffxiv oc #ff14 #ffxiv #ffxiv lalafell #lalafell #ffxiv rp #ffxiv fanfic #ffxiv fanfiction #shaaloani #yeehawgust #riding off into the sunset on my medium sized fantasy chicken #it's not a large sized chicken because I'm smol

18 notes · View notes

landshorizon · 5 months ago

Text

(Count)Down to Dawntrail // Day Two - Heavensward

"I... I couldn't save him. Why couldn't I save him?"

Edvard fell to the floor, onto his knees, his sollerets scraping against the marble flooring of the Chancel.

"Why..."

His stomach lurched as he brought up the contents of it. He could smell Haurchefant's blood still on his gauntlets, and sprayed up the front of his curiass, along with the scent of incense and something like ozone.

It was overwhelming in the worst of ways.

The delayed shock of Haurchefant's passing hadn't come with a bang, but with a whimper. Ed didn't know if he wanted to continue to fight. He'd lost two lovers. Two. In the space of a scant year, two lovers lost to the lifestream...

First it had been G'raha, and his immense self-sacrifice at the Crystal Tower, sealing himself away. And now Haurchefant...

He should've been able to save him.

He should have seen it coming, should've been the one to take the bolt through his stomach. It should be Haurchefant there, still; grieving maybe, for the loss of Edvard, but hale and hearty and breathing.

Eddie had kept waiting for Haurchefant to breathe. Even as he lay unmoving, Ed had summoned magics just barely within reach to try and save him, pouring what little knowledge of Conjury he had into spell after spell after spell, Cure after Cure after Cure.

Futile. It was all futile.

He had known such deep, profound loss already on this path... Couldn't the universe have given him a happy-ever-after, when the battles were over with? Couldn't Hydaelyn have given him this mercy?

Ed spat onto the floor and rose to his feet, shaky, barely able to stand. The lone Warrior of Light. Destined to be alone forever, he felt...

Everything and everyone he touched crumbled and fell away, after all.

#ough angst time #ff14 #ffxiv #gposers #gpose #gposer #warrior of light #ffxiv rp #wol #ffxiv gpose #ffxiv screenshots #ffxiv fic #ffxiv fanfic #ffxiv fanfiction #(count)down to dawntrail #heavensward spoilers #hw spoilers

25 notes · View notes

laspocelliere · 2 months ago

Text

Day Nineteen: Taken

“The stranger seems quite taken with her, no?”

Koana’s tone was low and studied, arms crossed across his chest as he watched the impromptu celebrations below. He and his unmatchable sister had been crowned as Heads of Reason and Resolve a full day prior, and the celebrations weren’t showing any signs of flagging. The streets were full of dancing and music, faces lit up with laughter in a way that warmed the private, secret recesses of his academic heart.

These were the people that Lamaty’i had been speaking so warmly of all along. These were the ones that she would grow and love and fight for.

He was immeasurably grateful that he hadn’t taken too long to see it too.

But that wasn’t his focus tonight. Tonight, he was focused on the revelry, and the celebration…and the champion that his sister had brought from across the Salt to support her.

More specifically, the stranger at her side, who’d arrived by ship only a few days prior.

In the flickering lamplight, with coloured lanterns dancing bright across her skin, the Eorzean hero moved with a lightness of foot that he’d already begun to associate with her in battle. She didn’t dance, not truly; not in the thick of the crowds, where the mezcal had been flowing freely, and hands had gone wandering in time to the beat. Still, she was sure and graceful, moving around her partner, linked by their entwined fingers only. They seemed to have eyes only for each other, regardless of the party around them, and Koana’s shoulders tightened involuntarily.

The stranger had arrived quietly a few mornings prior, without fanfare and without announcement. Since he’d come from across the Salt, he’d apparently been taken in to speak with Gulool Ja Ja not long after his arrival. Their audience was private, but the fact that the stranger had been summoned at all was buzzed about throughout the markets and residences – not in the least because of the newcomer’s unquestionable good looks.

Koana watched him with a critical eye, sharp on the two of them despite how they kept to the fringes of the crowd, private except for those who thought to watch. He’s nothing to write home about, he reassured himself. He’s certainly far more…shoulders than the scholarly types in Sharlayan.

Types, he refused to admit to himself, that he hoped the champion would lean towards, rather than the sort of looks this salted stranger had. The kind that all the young girls of Tuliyollal seemed to already be fawning over, despite him, oddly, never looking twice at a single one of them.

From his perch above the beach, he watched the warrior move absently to the rhythm of the drums, her bare feet sinking into the cool, dark sand while the sun sank beneath the sea beyond. There was something delicate and forbidden about her bare ankles, pale and lovely in the setting sunlight, that made him want to look away.

But her fingers were still laced with the stranger’s, and he pulled her gently towards him by those fingertips alone.

And she didn’t resist, even when they pressed palm to palm. She turned his face upwards towards him, and her expression caught in Koana’s throat.

Gone was the cold, impassable stance that he had grown so used to on her, the one that he so enjoyed puzzling out. Gone was the guard in her eyes, the hardness to her lips. If she hadn’t known this man before, she knew him now, and in his presence she softened like a flower, blooming into a sort of loveliness in the rising moonlight that the Head of Reason couldn’t tear his eyes away from.

By then, he’d forgotten he’d spoken, but his sister wasn’t one to let a conversation linger and rest in silence. At his side, she peered thoughtfully down at the pair, her ears twitching as she examined the sight before her, her nails drumming rapidly on the railing before them.

“I like him!” She declared brightly after a moment, arching back as though to stretch, her grin spreading wide. “He looks at her the right way, you know? Maybe she’s finally met someone.” Lamaty’i’s smile was bright and cheerful. “It would be good for her to relax, I think.”

At her side, Koana made a quiet, noncommittal noise. His eyes never left the hero’s face, even as his stomach plummeted with a disappointment that he didn’t know how to name.

#ffxivwrite2024 #ffxivwrite #ffxiv fanfic #ffxiv dawntrail #dawntrail #dawntrail spoilers #koana #koana ffxiv #if Thorne had a nickel for every time a nerdy catboy fell in unrequited love with her #she'd have two nickels #which isn't a lot but it's weird it happened twice #also no one realizes that that man is actually her husband #bless 'em

12 notes · View notes

bananarose · 2 months ago

Text

FFXIV Write 2024 - Day 1 "Steer"

Characters: Banana Rose (WoL) Zero

Length: 415 words

Spoilers: Endwalker

~ ~ ~

“Would I ever steer you wrong?” Banana smiled, gesturing to the plate on the table in front of her new voidsent friend.

Zero didn’t know how to answer that question, looking expressionless between the plate and the warrior of light sat across from her. On the plate was something that people here on the source ate for sustenance, rather than consuming the aether of others. Zero thought it a bit odd, but figured that aether is aether afterall.

Banana pushed a metal object closer to Zero across the table: a fork, she had explained. Zero picked it up in her hand the way she was shown, her grip a bit different from the lalafell’s based on the size difference of their hands.

“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to finish it. And you don’t have to be afraid to say you don’t like it, we can always find something else.” Banana gives a reassuring nod at the end, hoping to ease the voidsent’s worries about the food.

Zero shot a last wary look across the table before stabbing her fork into what she could only assume was a chunk of meat. The first food she had tried was fruit, and from what she was told meat was quite different. She couldn’t remember eating, though she must have at some point… learning, or re-learning she supposed, was a strange experience. Maybe more hassle than it’s worth. It was much more tedious than simply taking the aether she needed from another, and apparently came with many social rules attached depending on where you consume the food.

Such an odd form of sustenance.

The voidsent lifted the fork to her mouth, giving the meat a cursory sniff before slowly placing it in her mouth, unaware of the excited bouncing that the lalafell across the table was failing to conceal. She chewed slowly, a vague sense of some flavor on her tongue… it seemed to have more taste than some of the things she had tried.

“Do you like it? The spice blend they use is a house special. I thought we’d try something without too much heat - spice heat, not temperature - just to start out with.” The lalafell barely held herself back from babbling on. She didn’t want to overwhelm Zero, when everything was already so new for her.

Zero thought for a moment, continuing to chew and swallow before answering the question. “It is… passable. I think.”

Banana smiled. That was good enough for now.

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2024 #ffxiv writing prompt #original character banana rose #zero #zero ffxiv #endwalker spoilers #my writing #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxiv fanfic

14 notes · View notes

stars-and-clouds · 2 years ago

Text

All of Coerthas Map (pre-calamity)

I was using this as a reference in my fanfic for Estinien’s backstory and thought it might help others too!

The picture is from this blog page. It is not mine. The blog also has some 1.0 information that might be useful for some writers.

Edit:

Map is originally by: @chrysalisthoughts

#ffxiv #writing aid #ffxiv lore #ffxiv writing aid #estinien #ferndale #aymeric #haurchefant #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxiv fanfic #aymeric x wol #estinien x wol #haurchefant x wol #ishgard #ishgard official #heavensward #ffxiv 1.0 #coerthas #ffxiv fic

719 notes · View notes

myreia · 2 months ago

Text

Sketches of Times Lost

Day 17: Sally

three times rielle has cried. rielle POV & character study. appearances by rielle's father, ystride de caulignont, sidurgu, and fray. written for ffxivwrite2024. rated: teen 2200 words. ao3 link content warning: mentions & brief descriptions of child abuse.

The girl raises the doll high in the air, her little round fingers holding it suspended by its arms on either side.

A pastel green dress, like hers. Buttons for eyes. Yarn for hair. An endlessly toothy smile.

She smiles back and giggles. The doll’s head flops to the side, staring at her with the same joy she had when she unwrapped her only moments before. But time goes quickly for a child this young, and there is a difference between then and now. Before and after.

Before, she was perched on the windowsill of her bedroom, having pulled herself up onto the place Mama forbid her to go. She knows she could get in trouble for it—already she flinches inside just thinking about it, imagining Mama’s tall shadow on the wall, the way her face twists when she yells, how cold her fingers are when she grabs her and puts her back in her place—but some days she doesn’t care. No matter how many times Mama has said the windowsill is dangerous, that she could fall and hurt herself, the girl still climbs on it when no one is looking.

There is a world outside, a world far more interesting than the wooden toy blocks on her floor or the pages of a little book of King Thordan and his knights twelve with their glittering armour and golden lances. A world of wide green fields and clear blue skies and little pink and yellow blossoms that float in the wind. Sometimes she thinks she can see dragons dancing round the mountaintops, magical and bright. She pointed to them once, and Mama batted her hand away, telling her she should not look for such things. Dragons are a omen of the evil that lurks in near their home.

But Papa doesn’t mind. He lets her look out the window all she wants. Sometimes he sits on the sill and holds her in his lap, letting her scrunch up her face and press it to the glass. He tells her stories of dragons and Elezen long ago, before there was such a thing as war. Before there was such a thing as the evil in the woods and the secret things that go bump in the night.

That’s where she was when Papa came to visit. He sat with her by the windowsill, a sad look on his face, his hands clasped behind his back. Why did he look so sad? She can’t remember the last time she heard Papa laugh, save for these small moments when he comes to visit. He’s gone most of the time. He has a duty to Halone and to House Caulignont, you see.

“Rielle,” he said. “Sweetheart. Come away from the window.”

It’s different when he says it.

She did as he asked and waited patiently, sitting on a little stool by the hearth with her hands clasped in her lap. That’s when he gave her the box. Small, simple, wrapped in brown paper. Her eyes lit up and she could not hold back her gasp. Mama has given her gifts before—a pretty dress whose hem is now ruined (her fault, she stained it with mud), a locket with flowers engraved upon it (lost in the snow when its chain broke), a book of devotional prayers (Mama doesn’t know she moves the bookmark every day)—but not like this. She tore through the wrapping eagerly and found the doll within, smiling that joyful smile up at her.

Which brings her to now. After.

The girl swings her legs back and forth as she holds the doll, taking in her beautiful hair and her beautiful eyes and her beautiful smile. A friend, perhaps—a perfect friend for a lonely girl has little else than the warmth of her father’s fairy tales and dreams, and the cold of her mother’s pious devotion.

“What are you going to call her?” Count Caulignont asks, resting his forearms against his knees as he watches his treasured daughter with a distant smile. “All little girls need names.”

“I’m not a little girl!”

He chuckles at her fierceness. “Very well, I stand corrected. Not little. But your friend there still needs a name.”

She stares up at her father with wide, shining eyes, and grins. The name comes to her immediately and she declares it loud and proud, hugging the doll tight.

There is no more windowsill to get her in trouble. No more glass to press her face against. No more mountains or clear skies or green fields or dragons.

And no more Papa.

That all disappeared after the sky bled red and the moon came tumbling down and an everlasting snow swept over Coerthas.

Some days she lies on her cot and bundles her blanket together and hugs it. She’s cold and shivering without it, goosepimples breaking out all over beneath her threadbare dress, but at least she can pretend there is someone else here with her. At least she can pretend she still has a friend.

The doll isn’t here anymore. Mama took it from her, a punishment for not reading her prayerbook. She finally saw through the trick with the bookmark after all these years, even though the girl has read it out of want for something to do. But it doesn’t matter how many hymns to Halone she can recite or how well she can retell the tale of King Thordan and his knights, no amount of prayer can burn a heretic’s blood from her veins. Mama was so angry that day. The doll was tucked between the girl’s arms. She seized it and pulled, expecting it to come freely, but the girl could not let go.

Her friend’s head tore clean off, stuffing falling limply to the cold stone floor in puffs like snow.

The girl wailed in the aftermath, eyes shining with tears.

“Look what you’ve done, Rielle,” Mama said, her lip curling with disgust. “Don’t cry. This wouldn’t have happened if you had just given it to me. Now who’s going to put it back together? It’s ruined.”

But the girl could only cry.

And Ystride de Caulignont sighed, exhausted by her little girl, and walked away, heels treading across the doll’s ruined remains. She slammed the door behind her and left without another word, her voice later echoing down the long stairwell to the cells as she complained to a guard about the weeping child.

The remains are still here. Bits of cloth and stuffing stuck between the flagstones, unravelled yarn twisted around her bedpost, broken buttons rolled int the corners of the cell. Sometimes the rats pick away at it, stealing another bit to carry back to their nests. She’s seen it before, at night, their yellow eyes glowing in the dark when she jolts awake. They stare at her, as if surprised they are caught in the act, then squeak squeak squeak as they scutter away across the floor.

She knows what happened to her only friend.

She can only wonder what happened to her father. She understands more as she gets older, from conversations between the guards when they think she can’t hear her. Heretics and dragons and something in her blood. Something in her father’s blood. Some days she finds herself praying—not to Halone, but to whatever else is out there—that it will awaken and she will burst forth from this tower and tear it down.

Papa wouldn’t like that. He didn’t like violence, he didn’t like fighting. His face was too kind for that. He was a knight and he performed his duties well, right up until the day he never came back.

Was it the sky that killed him? That awful, awful day of the moon? Or did Ystride kill him, too? Pop his head clean off and leave him for the rats? She hates that she can imagine it so well, blood and all.

It’s the nightmare that haunts her when she’s asleep and shivering, when she should be dreaming of those pink and yellow blossoms she never got to see up close.

“Godsdammit, Fray, where do you think we’re going to get the gil for this?”

“A problem for later. This is a problem for now.”

“It’s only a problem because you’ve developed a frivolous streak. What happened to frugal living?”

“Call it living a little. Besides, frugality is something only Temple Knights care about, Sid. I never thought you’d be one to pick up their habits.”

“Bloody hells—”

Fray laughs and adjusts his helmet, striding faster down the street. Sidurgu curses again and stomps after him, his hulking form cutting a swath through the crowd. Not that there’s much of a crowd here. The village is small, nestled on the border between Coerthas and the Dravanian Forelands, far enough down the slope to escape the snows. She’s not sure if it even has a name. Fray and Sidurgu stand out among the locals, but no one pays attention to her. She fades into the background, unnoticed. She can pick the pink and yellow flowers from the terracotta planters without anyone yelling at her. Steal an apple from a vendor’s table. Nick a bracelet from a merchant.

“…say what you want, but she needs something.”

“She doesn’t need a doll, she’s too old for things like that.”

“How would you know what she needs? Have you ever been a little girl, Sidurgu? No? Thought not. You’re far too spikey for that. Besides, I have it on good authority that it’s not only little girls. Perhaps the world would be a better place if we all carried a stuffed animal or two well into our adult lives.”

She makes a face. I’m not little, she wants to say, but when do adults ever listen to her.

Sidurgu, meanwhile, grumbles under his breath and reaches around his horns to scratch the back of his neck. Strange to think that she was afraid of him at first. She had never seen an Au Ra before. But no matter what some Ishgardians think, he isn’t the one who is part dragon.

She’s not so sure about herself some days.

“…gods bloody well dammit—”

“Must you swear so much? Children have ears, you know.”

“And children are smarter than you think, Fray, little cursing won’t hurt her.” He sighs and shakes his head, passing a hand across his face. “Let’s split up. We’re getting nowhere.”

The girl watches as her guardians part ways, disappearing through the crowd, each assuming that she is following the other without checking. She would call them dunderheads if she could get away with it, but for now she errs on the side of caution. As nice as they have been—swearing and all—she doesn’t know them and they don’t know her. She’s simply a girl in a tower, imprisoned by monsters and rescued by knights.

Papa told her a fairy tale like that long ago.

For now, she perches on the edge of a bridge, swinging her feet back and forth as she watches the river rush below. The sun beats down, warming her neck, and the warm air is pleasant on her face. She clasps the bracelet around her wrist and dumps the flowers in her lap, poking through them as she takes a big bite out of the stolen apple. It’s sweet and juicy, far better than anything she has tasted in a long time.

“Rielle!”

She finishes her apple and tosses it away, watching it plunk into the rippling water.

“Rielle!”

She swings her legs and plucks at a flower, pulling it apart. She scatters the blossoms into the air and watches them soar.

“RIELLE!”

The girl startles, looking up as Sidurgu runs down the bridge, armour clanking frightfully with every step. He’s gasping by the time he reaches her, either with relief or panting for breath or both.

“Bloody hells,” he rasps. “Please say something before you disappear like that.”

She blinks and rises to her feet, brushing down the front of her dress. “I thought it was all right,” she says. “You and Fray weren’t far.”

“I know, but…” He trails off, an anxious look crossing his face. “Tell us next time. Please.”

She nods. She can do that. “What’s that behind your back?” she asks, pointing.

“I, uh…” He pauses. “It was Fray’s idea… well, mine, too. But…”

“What?”

He exhales a breath and kneels down, lowering his towering height so they can see each other eye to eye. “We thought you might like something,” he says gruffly. “A friend to keep you company on the road, wherever we might find ourselves.”

She nods again.

“I, uh… Here.” He removes the object from behind his back and presses it into her hands. Not wrapped this time. The eyes are different. The hair, too. But the smile is the same. “The woman told me its name is Sally, but I suppose you can call it whatever you like—”

The familiar name hits her like a lightning strike. With a sob, Rielle takes the doll and crushes it to her chest, hugging it as if she will never let go.

#ffxiv #ff14 #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv fanfic #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2024 #writing tag #myreiawrites2024 #rielle de caulignont #ystride de caulignont #sidurgu orl #fray myste #drk spoilers

21 notes · View notes

idalenn · 2 months ago

Text

Day 1 - Steer

Aftermath of the Crystal Tower. Alphinaud learns from a true businessman. (A Realm Reborn)

Full text below the cut if you'd rather read it on Tumblr instead of Ao3.

“And of the boy – were you successful locating his next of kin?”

“The documents provided by NOAH were bereft of evidence related to his origins. Unofficially, we’ve heard claims he may have familial ties within the Corvosi of southeastern Ilsabard.” The Elezen woman tapped a quill to the open, hide-backed volume in her hands. “But we are unable to confirm their validity at this time. It remains hearsay.”

“Then our efforts must be concentrated in a more scholarly direction. We cannot simply shrug our shoulders when it comes to Sharlayan. Having the loss of their pupil go unrecognized, or worse – underappreciated – will impact future endeavors. Reparations will soften the blow and secure fertile grounds for tilling.” With his own writing tool, edges leafed in gold and tipped with a brilliant ruby, Lolorito scratched his final signature onto the treaty.

A click of the inlaid jewel sent the tool’s end retreating into itself. Black ink dripped from the hole; blood from an open wound. One quick swipe with cloth made of finer material than Lillian would ever own picked it up without a trace left behind. Lolorito curtly tossed the cloth back among the ink pots. “A veritable drop in the ocean of spoils we’ve earned this day, wouldn’t you agree?”

Lillian felt a veritable ocean of sweat growing in her boots. Devoid of windows or any sort of opening to the outside save the single door combined with an abundance of crystal-lit lanterns, the Monetarist’s chamber buffered her and Alphinaud with a furnace’s heat. Even wearing gloves she feared taking the document in hand and drenching their hard work. The scars across her face ached under the pressure.

“Adamantite. Allagan technology. Wisdom beyond measure and reach, and beyond price some might claim, but there will be a price, and as sole owner of that crystal tower, the price shall be any figure negotiable.” The Lalafell chuckled to himself as he sealed the treaty with wax and sigil before sliding it across the desk. “And this is just the beginning. I know our contract was only for the tower’s acquisition, but I have grand plans in motion for future expansion, and you’re just the two to help see them bear fruit.” He spread his arms wide as though welcoming them into his embrace. “Care to stay for a time?”

Another cramp ran through Lillian’s leg. The chairs they sat in were perfectly Lalafell sized, undoubtedly Lolorito’s primary audience, but less so for the snow-haired Elezen child across from him, and unbearably small for the Miqo’te dwarfing every other soul in the room, whose legs were forcibly kept at such an angle between chair and desk that, if this meeting continued much longer, were liable to fall off.

“Other business calls.” She said.

“Of course. Scions and governments running you ragged must come first, but forget not my offer. And you, Master Alphinaud? From your quiet I must believe in some thought being given.”

Alphinaud took the treaty in a shaking hand. “Your assistance to the Crystal Braves is greatly appreciated, Lord Lolorito. If I may, I have but one more question, and after we’ll be on our way.”

“Then I take it you need time to consider.” Lolortio stroked his goatee, smiling with brilliant white teeth. The mask made interpreting his expression impossible. To Lillian it appeared a predator’s grin. “Very well. The floor is yours, my boy.”

“Care to share the details on how you intend to move forward? Specifically, I wish to know how you will honor the loss of G’raha Tia, without whom this endeavor would have ended in failure.” The Elezen aide narrowed her eyes. Lolorito’s smile never dropped an ilm.

“For effort contributed, I suppose you can be trusted with particulars. I am nothing if not fair, as Nald’Thal demands.” One of the lanterns flickered, and a glint off a gold-plated scale on the Lalafell’s desk caught Lillian’s attention. “G’raha Tia has no will, no family of note who can be contacted or given payment, and represents no organization outside of one within Sharlayan. Any and all possessions within NOAH’s hands will be returned to that organization. His share will, of course, be divided amongst all hired.

“Sharlayan will receive a lump sum of gil in an amount yet to be determined but no less than two hundred thousand. That previously mentioned organization will also partake of a sizable donation. Ah, but this name eludes me.” He snapped his fingers rapidly as if trying to light a spark. “I’m sure it began with ‘students’ something or other… the students of…”

“Baldesion.” Alphinaud finished through gritted teeth.

“It is refreshing, Master Alphinaud, to meet another so untrained in subtleties and be reminded I am not so alone in this world. As someone eyeing to hold a position of political power in our realm, you would do well to either hone a silver tongue or abandon all pretense of furthering your cause with it.”

“You only saw our friend as numbers to be counted!”

“Absolutely! Much in the same way you yourself only see the Syndicate in measures of usefulness and value to your coffers. Life is a series of numbers! You sought profits as well as I, my boy, and in doing so one must on occasion plan for declines. All gathered in this room have value, and all will be made equal should misfortune come to pass.”

Lolorito leaned forward over the desk, his hands folded together in a wall from which atop he stood a giant before Alphinaud and the Warrior of Light. “You captain an uncertain ship, Master Alphinaud, and unless you wish your company dashed amongst the rocks, you had best learn to steer.”

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxiv fanfic #ffxivwrite2024

24 notes · View notes