#FFXIV Writing

[justalilmiqo]

For creation process-

Mostly just from what I find interesting at the time/what I'd like an alternate take on! Like for background lore: what exactly grants an Archon mark, what if White Mages weren't restricted to Padjals (accessible to more than just our WoL), what would be Auri dynamics outside of the Steppe? And then for MSQ moments because I have a light party of WoLs I get to decide which one gets what major event LMAO (In From the Cold, what the soul snatch order is in the Stormblood patches, how everyone gets to Ishgard, and more!)- stuff relating to my WoL's background obviously gets more of a creative priority lol, FFXIV is very much a playground that I can focus on what I want whenever I'd like

For organization-

For artwork I have it divided by folders! One for each expansion, ancient times, and extra doodles that either don't fit in a particular expansion's lore or spans multiple expansions. Writing wise I have an entire google doc just popping off lmao, and I use headers to easily jump around from Echo Abilities to timeline to character dynamics \o/

Ffxiv is the one au I actively organize stuff for because there's so much/I draw for it so often, everything else is a clusterfuck ngl

11/22/24

How do you create and organize your wol(oc)'s lore?

[thewordkeep-ffxiv]

FERAL

There is a difference between the executioner and the hunter. The former is about snuffing a life--orphaning children, stealing away loved ones, ending family lines, the outside-corrupted body wasted, the forbidden items left behind useless to the Wood. The cost of keeping the Wood safe is being left with that final gaze before death--despair, regret, desperation--and seeing a soul dim from lifeless eyes. It is kill or be killed, but each take haunts my every dream.

This need for survival is also present in the hunt, but there is a mutual understanding in it. My death would mean sustenance for an ecosystem, my body a contribution to the Word. My kill would mean sustenance for me, warmth in the hide, the use of bones and claws for tools. There is no hate in the eyes of the dying creatures of the Green Word, just acceptance, resignation into the circle of life. I can revel in my victory and enjoy my spoils in full belly and warm back, contributing to balance.

To hunt is to worship the Green Word. To kill is to merely defend it.

[mimble-sparklepudding]

The Etheirycrumb OCs Revisited.

A is for Amon, with charisma in spades, B is for Banri, and his collection of blades, C is for Clara, who’s often confused, D is for Damien, with shadow infused, E is for Estelle, who’s hard to outplay, F is for Feldspar, with his legs on display, G is for Gigi, the safety inspector, H is for Hwyl, the glamour collector, I is for Iris, genteel and refined, J is for Jess, who knows her own mind, K is for Kai, in a tender romance, L is for Lejo, who really can dance, M is for Mizuki, with her tricky upbringing, N is for Nate, and his magical singing, O is for Osric, both wolfish and brooding, P is for Podolly, and the warmth she’s exuding, Q is for Q'ruhka, setting sail through the sky, R is for Rowan, who at first seems quite shy, S is for Saeed, who vowed to resist, T is for Tsukia, a brave altruist, U is for U’lohi, the spreader of joy, V is for Valentin, that flirtatious boy, W is for Wolfram, and his undisclosed bond, X is for Xynal, drawing power from beyond, Y is for Yume, with an un-charming prince, Z is for Zuzunzo, and the skill he'll evince.

By Blake Primping-Muddles.

(With further apologies to Edward Gorey)

A couple of years ago I wrote a very silly poem, in the style of Edward Gorey's The Gashlycrumb Tinies, in order to celebrate some of the wonderful FFXIV blogs and OCs on Tumblr. You can find the original here. Recently I thought it might be fun to revisit the idea and celebrate some more of my favourite OCs...

Hopefully nobody minds me borrowing their characters for further silly purposes! And apologies to the many wonderful OCs I had to leave out - there are an awful lot of characters starting with M and S etc.

How many characters did you recognise? Why not follow their respective blogs and find out more about their stories!

Amon @spotofmummery

Banri @aoife-asturmaux

Clara @confusedau-ra

Damien @damienward-ffxiv

Estelle @viiioca

Feldspar @loldragoon-ffxiv

Gigi @gigifujijifu

Hywl @hywl

Iris @irisopranta

Jess @sasslett

Kai @kaitontenchu

Lejo @naejlas-axe

Mizuki @pumpkinmagekupo

Nate @calico-heart

Osric @osric-giroux-ffxiv

Podolly @roxinova

Q'ruhka @placesyoucallhome

Rowan @tallbluelady

Saeed @stalwart-spirit

Tsukia @tsukiakurotori

U’lohi @humblemooncat

Valentin @cadrenebula

Wolfram @xiv-wolfram

Xynal @qxynalvaleroyantb

Yume @firelightmuse

Zuzunzo @zuzunzo

[iron-sparrow]

death is not the end

When storm clouds gather around and heavy rains descend Just remember that death is not the end ⸺ ♫

As Gulool Ja Ja lay dying, his flesh withering, his milky eyes shift their focus to find the champion ⸺ his champion, his Yein of Iron ⸺ knelt in the corner of his vision.

"I see... a sparrow," he rumbles weakly, the corners of his mouth raising half an ilm in a valiant effort to smile. He can hear his children's weeping still, despite his efforts to assuage their sorrow.

Yein returns his smile, as he knew they would. Bare palms normally protected by leather and metal touch his lips, brushing over skin and teeth. It touches him in a way he had come to love.

"We might be too large in size," he muses, "to become one of your little birds..."

A wet sound leaves Yein's scarred lips, letting the dying sovereign glimpse their pointed teeth.

"Maybe you will return as a very large bird," they offer, "with two heads." Despite their forced mirth, their fingers are trembling as they caress him.

"Perhaps," Gulool Ja Ja heaves in agreement. He attempts to see them more clearly, hoping to commit their shape to his final memory. A quivering smile shifts his wrinkled lips against their touch.

"I cannot wait... to introduce you to him. My brother..."

"Me too, dawnlight," the elezen says. As Gulool Ja Ja's eyes drift shut, they mirror his expression and curl forward to press their scarred cheek against the skin between his eyes.

Nearby, Wuk Lamat is screaming one last time for her papa.

For the tree of life is growing where the spirit never dies ⸺ ♫

[foamofthe-sea]

Found some questions rummaging through the xiv tags while I wait for this social event to start so send a number and I'll answer it? Feel free to reblog and do the same.

1. Where were they during the Calamity? 

2. How did they acquire their Echo? 

3. Does their Echo function like it does in the MSQ? Or is there a twist to it? 

4. Do they have a canon mount or minion? What's its name(s)? 

5. Where are they from? What was their childhood like?

6. How did they deal with the massacre on the Waking Sands?  

7. How did they deal with Haurchefant's death? 

8. How did they feel about the liberation of Ala Mhigo? Do they feel it could have been handled differently? Where they at all bothered by how they were involved? 

9. How do they feel about Zenos? 

10. How do they feel about their relationship with Hydaelyn? Midgarsormr?

11. Were they more sympathetic to the dragons, Ishgardians, neither or both? 

12. How has their job affected whatever headcanon version is of the MSQ if any? 

13. Are they close with any of the other Scions? Who do they get along with the best? 

14. Of the Scions, who are they most worried for? 

15. Is your WoL promiscuous? Celibate? Or just waiting for the right person? 

16. What does your WoL do to relax? What sorts of distractions do they seek? Do they foster any bad habits as a result?

17. Who is their favorite Alliance leader? Who do they get along with the best out of them? 

18. Does your WoL fully embrace their role as the WoL or do they try to remain humble? 

19. What do they think of the Heaven's Ward? 

20. Of all the places they've been to, which is their favorite? Do they like to go back there? 

21. Are there any raid storylines (Ivalice, Coil of Bahamut, Werlyt, etc.) you consider to be canon for your WoL? Which ones don't you consider canon? 

22. Do you  have a unique tale for their job class or is it pretty much like what it is in the game?

23. Are there any side quest storylines that you're particularly fond of or think of as being canon to your WoL's experiences? 

24. Does your WoL have any phobias? 

25. Do they have any habits or rituals that they do to soothe themselves? I.e. Playing with their hair, chewing their lip, fidgeting, etc. 

26. Do they suffer any traumas from any of their adventures? How do you foresee this affecting them going forward? 

27. How did the events of Shadowbringers impact them? 

28. Were they suspicious or open to Emet-Selch's presence when he first appeared? 

29. Did your WoL suspect anything was amiss with Urianger or the Crystal Exarch? Did they feel betrayed? Upset? When the truth finally emerged? 

30. What was their highest point in Shadowbringers? Their lowest? What caused it? 

31. What were their first impressions of Hien? 

32. Did they trust Asahi right away? Why or why not? 

33. How did they feel about what happened with Yotsuyu? Did they feel like she was justified in her actions?

34. Would you say your WoL is fundamentally a good person? Or are they a bad person that's been persuaded to do the right things? 

35. How do they feel about the fact that they've killed a lot of people and/or things?

[shroudkeeper]

Not the warmth of the sun, nor the perfumed spring air, could quell the ache that began budding in my chest, taking bloom, the longer I stared at them. I did not recognize the armor of this warrior being one that belonged to her clan, nor had I spied him before in Kugane during business with her father. Broad. Tall. Armored. ..and handsome considering how her lady reacts to just glancing in his direction. Such things wouldn't cause much stir within me, except there was his hand pressed upon the fabric on the hakama, ever so gently. A part of me wanted to approach, to casually spark conversation, to probe, yet I could not bring myself to take another step forward as I felt my stomach twist with doubts.

[fair-fae]

FFxivWrite24 Entry #6: Halcyon

FFxivWrite 2024 Prompt #6: Halcyon It was a lazy summer day like any other in the Black Shroud, humid heat hanging heavy in the air outside the Covington manor, a marvel of tall, white marble and manicured gardens that stood in stark contrast to the wild woods surrounding it, either a bastion or a blight of mankind among the expanse of nature. Faye rested upon a bench outside her home, a half-emptied and forgotten cup of tea sat surely now cold beside her as she focused on her embroidery–or tried to, anyway. It was a quiet afternoon, only the birdsongs and the ambient buzzing of insects breaking the silence. That was, until Zularti had found a long, skinny stick and decided to pretend it was a spear. He paced around the garden, thrusting the stick this way and that, adding in sound effects and striking occasionally at a nearby tree, fighting off invisible foes. Faye did her best to tune him out, quite accustomed to his antics by now, and kept her focus on her needlework and the piece of fabric in her hands. Suddenly, however, her attention was stolen away as the boy suddenly exclaimed. “Guhhh! I’m so boooored!” He easily snapped the stick over his knee, tossing the two halves aside and wiping away the sweat that matted his dark auburn hair to his brow before he dramatically collapsed onto the grass. Faye heaved a sigh, giving up on her task and setting her embroidery hoop aside. “You could try doing something useful for once,” she offered helpfully. “You could try shutting up for once,” he muttered in a mockery of her own tone, squinting up at the sun bearing down on him from the cloudless sky. Perhaps she should have appreciated those days more, when life was simple and everything was peaceful, when all the horrors of the world were far away things that happened to other people and there was no cause for pain or want. But the truth was, she was bored, too.

[umbralaether]

FFXIV WRITE 2024

Day 4: reticent

Erenville was a man of few words.

He preferred being straightforward— saying what you mean, when you mean it, all feelings aside. Feelings were messy, a distraction from your work so he hid them deep within and moved forward. It had worked just fine for him for years.

Then he met Eisha, the warrior of light who's very gaze could pierce through the walls he'd put up. Perhaps it was the healer in her, the way she could pinpoint an injury with focused precision. He hadn't anticipated the scale of her empathy, and his reticent nature began to unwind itself when in her presence.

He had been… unkind, when she came to him in Living Memory. She'd had that look of worry on her face ever since they'd arrived in Yyasulani, and the deeper they dug into this wound, the more horror he'd had to choke down.

His home was gone.

His mother was gone.

Everything he knew was gone.

Erenville, I—

Don't say it, Eisha. Just go.

Curt, barked out words were the only thing he could think of that would keep her away and still she hesitated before returning to the others. He knew as soon as she walked away that being alone was not what he wanted after all.

Now, sitting on the deck of his cabin alone, he ached. A hollow kind, deep inside.

Rain sprinkling from the storming clouds above began to pick up fervor when he heard a voice from behind.

"You'll catch a cold sitting in the rain like that," Eisha says. He turns his head to see her standing a few fulms behind him, arms crossed.

"That is an old myth, one mothers say to their children to keep them inside." He's certain his own mother had said as much, at least once.

"I like to call it 'your local healer's recommendation' but you might be on to something." She makes her way over to sit next to him, close but not quite touching.

They sit in silence for a moment, before eventually she speaks again, "You're not okay. This is know, and yet I stayed away because you told me to."

He stays silent, thinking and not thinking. He had gone to the celebrations, paid his visits where he needed to. She came to his door every night, and he sent her away each time.

"I think you deal with everything by yourself because you've had to, and then you didn't know how not to."

He stops breathing for a second, caught off guard at how easily she reads him. He looks over to her, her soft aqua eyes an ocean of concern.

"I want to be there for you, Erenville. I care about you, and I'm not going anywhere."

She reaches for him, and before he can stop himself he falls into her embrace— letting himself come undone. He clings to her as the tears fall, and she runs her fingers through his wet hair as the sobs wrack his body. She hugs him tightly until he has nothing left to cry, empty but no longer aching.

He pulls away just a bit, "Thank you, Eisha. Words cannot express—" He's interrupted by a violent shiver, their clothes now fully soaked through from the rain.

"Shall we go inside, get dried off?" She asks, lacing her fingers with his own.

He nods, and they make their way inside. While she rummages through the cabinets for towels, he comes to a simple conclusion.

Everything hurt less, when she was around.

[somehumandrawing]

Chapter 5 - Stamp

Hey look a Moogle!

This cleaned up pretty ok given I only spent like three hours on it!

@dissociated-and-tired I will draw your WoL eventually! I promise!

[paintedscales]

AuRaugust 2024 :: Day Twenty-Five :: Myth

"Something weighs heavy on your mind..." It was an observation and to the point from G'raha as he and Nomin paused on their way to the exit of the Omphalos. Deryk simply continued on, the baby opo-opo that imprinted onto him sticking close to his heels. Instead of answering right away, Nomin turned her gaze upon the lit up beacons of the Twelve, her eyes darting between each one, and her memories going back to each of her encounters and shared words with those that the Eorzeans worshiped.

"... It's just..." Nomin began in response, her mind going to Menphina and the words the Lover imparted to her. "I don't know how I am to react if..."

Nomin's words trailed off, her mouth curving into a frown.

G'raha turned his gaze upon Nomin, his ears flattening slightly. There was much he learned about Nomin through what she told him, and...the memories of knowing her from a time long forgotten. Reaching out, he placed a hand upon her shoulder, just as she had done for he and others before to show that someone was there.

"You worry about should you come face to face with the deities that preside over the Steppe..." G'raha said. There was no questioning intonation to his words.

"... After a time, it gets hard not to question your own Gods when it feels like they've shunned you. When the Twelve have treated me so kindly, and when I think of how much disdain and anger I have toward Azim and Nhaama...what would it ever come to should we ever meet?"

Though Deryk continued his way, he was ever perceptive to their discussion. A small, knowing smile, hidden from the other two, spread over his lips. Perhaps time would answer Nomin's question. But he believed in the words of his now departed love; she would have known best, after all, in the affairs of all matters of the heart. If she believed Nhaama loved Nomin in her own way, then he, too, would believe it.

And...since Nomin bested Them with the help of those she considered trustworthy and strong enough, he was sure that she would find a way to overcome whatever fears or trepidation she had when the time came.

[avirael]

The Price of Failure

“Seven hells, A‘viloh! Open the damn door right now! I am worried about you, you idiot!”

After Haurchefant’s death the Miqo’te had locked himself up in a room at the Forgotten Knight and had barely spoken to anyone at all these last few days.

Go away - This is all my fault - They must hate me so - Stay away from me - I don’t want you to get hurt too.

With this and similar sentences, which Rael had day by day only heard muffled through the closed door, A’viloh had tried to get rid of them. Rael had expected the Miqo’te to blame himself for what had happened, they had even understood that A’viloh in his bizarre sense of self-loathing had decided to leave Fortemp Manor to not cause anyone any more pain. Anyone except himself of course.

Once again Rael felt so powerless seeing how A’viloh apparently saw all his fears confirmed, that as soon as he was involved in something, everything would eventually go horribly wrong and people would get hurt. Of course that was nonsense. But with the “evidence” at hand - and the poor Miqo’te really was a pretty unlucky fellow in this regard - it was also quite difficult to argue against it.

Seemingly he had also stopped letting Rael convince him of the opposite as they usually had so far. At least he had still talked to them. Through closed doors, but at least he had not ignored Rael entirely in another attempt to drive them away.

Well, not until today…

Another time Rael’s fist loudly drummed against the door.

“I swear, if you don’t open this damn door right now, I will break it down!”

Maybe getting angry at him was not going to encourage him any more than politely asking had but by now Rael’s patience reached its end.

“You are looking for the young Miqo’te, who’s living here since a few days, don’t you?”, a voice asked and Rael turned around to find the owner of the inn standing at the end of the corridor. “I saw you two together with mistress Tataru before.”

“I am.”, Rael confirmed and tried to look a little less like some hooligan about to trash the inn and attack its guests. “I am just worried about him…”

“Mhhh…”, the Elezen made a contemplating sound. “Well, all I can tell you is that your friend left a few hours ago and hasn’t returned since.”

“Left?!”, Rael blurted out, while their mind began to race. “To where?”

“That I don’t know, I am sorry…”, the man apologised.

It may have looked impolite but Rael left in a hurry without another word. Barely back outside they paused and realised that Ishgard was too big to just aimlessly run around and look for him. But where could he have gone?

At First Rael hurried to the chocobo stables. Somehow they had hoped to find him here cuddled to the bird Haurchefant had gifted him. It had been a naive hope, that of course proved wrong.

Then they ran to the city gates asking the guards if they had seen a person fitting A’viloh’s description leave the city and after that they did the same at the airship landing. Both times unsuccessful.

By now the sun, that had spent most of the day hidden by thick grey clouds, was slowly surrendering her last weak rays of light to the darkness of night. The lack of light would make searching even more difficult and Rael was out of ideas. Where else would A’viloh go?, they wondered when one last horrible idea crossed their mind.

As fast as Rael could they hurried back to the upper parts of the city, where at its highest point stood one of the most important places in town: The Vault.

The place where Haurchefant had been killed while trying to protect A‘viloh.

In a way it would be just like A’viloh to return here, if only to inflict more pain on himself and punish himself in the process. However as Rael walked towards the tall building they noticed the entrance had been sealed with a barrier and additionally a guard was stationed in front, informing Rael that the building remained closed for now due to ongoing investigations of the happenings around Thordan and his knights.

The guard hadn’t seen any Miqo’te around either and so Rael began to wonder what to do now. They could return to Fortemps Manor and ask Alphinaud and Tataru for help. Maybe even Artoirel and Emmanellain. Or go to the headquarters of the Temple Knights and speak to Ser Aymeric. Although every soldier in the city searching for A‘viloh possibly was a little exaggerated, this idea began to look more and more tempting to Rael with every passing minute. There was a nervousness inside their heart, a bad feeling, that was getting worse and worse with every passing second.

Rael had just walked down the first set of stairs when suddenly something in the cold night air changed. A strong breeze picked up, wind howling through the streets like a ghost. Feeling the strangeness of this sudden change Rael looked up to the night sky, where for a second they thought they saw the form of a bird circling in front of the glimmer of stars.

Then they blinked and it was gone. A shiver ran down Rael‘s spine. The feeling familiar but nonetheless in this case strangely unsettling, they gasped and almost stumbled. Their vision blurred for a moment and their eyes turned milky white, as Rael‘s mind was forcefully pulled away by a sudden vision.

Rael found themself standing on a square somewhere in Ishgard. It seemed familiar and Rael thought they recognised it from somewhere near Fortemps Manor. The air felt unreasonably chilling even through their warm clothes and Rael only slowly adjusted to the feeling of having a vision after none of them had shown up for so long.

Then Rael saw A’viloh.

There he stood, only a few steps away, at the edge of the square, where the higher parts of the city bordered onto the vast, foggy nothingness of the Holy Sea. But the Miqo’te’s tear-stained gaze was not focused on the bottomless depth below, but on the moon and the stars above.

This world… wouldn’t it be better off without me in it? No one would miss me at all…

A‘viloh did not say this aloud but Rael heard his voice just as clearly as if he had spoken instead of just thought it. It made Rael’s blood freeze in their veins.

Like petrified they watched A’viloh slowly raising his arms as if they were wings, like a bird that wanted to take flight.

Just that he wasn’t flying.

He was falling.

In an unnaturally slow motion he tilted forward, falling into the abyss and while Rael began to scream he was already gone.

[primamchorus]

"And...these islands you say you come from..." his voice was gentle, patient, though was a window into the him that sought to learn. "What was it like there and would you ever like to go back?"

"I'd love to go back," she sighed longingly. "My family still lives there, and after...after everything with the Final Days, it should be my first priority to go back. But..."

She shook her head.

"But...to answer your question... It's balmy on good days, the warm sands perfect to walk on as the sounds of the ocean break upon the shore, a backdrop to the seabirds that fly overhead, or nest around. Wild fruits grow all around, the islands offering its incredible and sweet bounty to our people." She smiled, a distant, though warm look in her eyes. "And the people...oh, how they all come together -- be it times of sadness, times of mirth, or simply just...times."

He chuckled lightly. "And what does that mean?"

"It means your cousins, siblings, aunts, uncles, and friends coming over whenever they feel like it!" she giggled. Calming, she only offered a last amused scoff before going on, "But it's always just...that... Family, community. Sometimes it drives you wild, but at the same time? They're always there, sticking their necks out for you -- for each other."

"Do you miss it?"

"Sometimes."

[thewordkeep-ffxiv]

MACHINIST

Deft fingers, stained with the daily courses of nature, sifted through the trimmed leather, tightly woven cotton, embroidered silk, and crafted steel adorning the body claimed by the Wood, this intruder now a gift to the moss, leaves, and vines of a beautiful, savage world. Outwardly, the deceased Garlean soldier had nothing in common with the forest dweller of frayed hemp wrappings around calloused hands, roughened leather encasing a lean, scarred body, and battle-beaten metal that protected head, limbs, and heart.

Nothing went to waste under the laws of nature as the Child of the Wood took the offerings of fabric to be used for cleaning, of leather to be fashioned for tools, and of armor to be re-purposed to shelter or to hold sustenance. The remaining body would be given to the Wood, to nourish it, life reclaimed by the mystery and majesty of the Green Word.

But the gun would be left behind, untouched, an abomination to nature's harmony, ceruleum devilry forever locked in its prison of metal piping, never to be used again.

The Viera yanked his arrow from the body, a well of congealing blood spilling over the wound where a heart once beat. He would use everything else, but never the gun.

~~

Those same deft fingers, stained with the daily living of lower-rung society, creased tightly woven fabric against his skin, adjusted embroidered silk around his neck, shifted the finely cured leather that protected and adorned his lean, scarred body. He stood in a world of metal now, and beyond this room was a forest of stone, of glass, of steel, and life hard won by grit and perseverance, an existence that demanded a sacrifice of the soul. He adjusted the harness strap holding his rifle, ceruleum devilry trapped in metal piping that would honor his intention. He no longer thrived in a cycle of rebirth but existed in a path of survival, vengeance soothing the ache of where his heart beat.

This Child of the Wood had become lost, but by fire or by vine he would be found again.

[mimble-sparklepudding]

1. Steer.

On a road trip with a stern Oronir,

I was attempting to switch into first gear,

When he caused sudden drama,

Claiming he'd seen his Nhaama,

Which made it quite tricky to steer...

FFXIVwrite2024 Silliness begins...

[koijikido]

🌀R U N (past)

Running. He had been running for so long. How long, he no longer knew. After he had left the mountains and stood on the hillside, Koiji had stared into the distance for a long time. Ignoring all his wounds, he had run as if pursued by the darkest shadow. And it wasn't even a lie. This dark shadow of horror, the smell of blood in the air, in the snow, burnt wood from afar, deep freezing silence and an icy biting cold wind. This deep red that had colored the white innocent sparkling snow in such a warm yet frightening color. Bodies, so cold and lifeless, faded and the breath of life that vanished.

********************

Sobbing and crying, he shoveled away the snow. The young Viera was desperate, shocked, deeply frightened and broken. His trembling hands scraped over the cold, frozen ground that had been uncovered by the snow. Hard, too hard, he couldn't get through, he just couldn't get through! Uttering a loud, desperate scream, he hit the ground again and again, and cried, pressing his forehead against the cold ground. The deathly silence around him.

It was piercing and the noise in his ears sounded even louder. Sobbing, he stood up and looked around before going to one of the lifeless bodies. Carefully, he removed one of the shoulder plates and then rammed it into the ground with all his might. It made it through the icy resistance. So he began to work the soil with the help of the shoulder plate, dig by dig. Minutes turned into hours. No animal dared to come near him, everything stayed away from him. Scattered snowflakes mingled with the wind, which blew relentlessly, carrying the lamentation of the Viera through the forest.

With an exhausted movement, he dropped the shoulder plate and wiped his eyes with his forearm, his face now a mixture of tears, blood and dirt. The blue eyes that once were so bright and blue as the sky itself on a sunny day, now cold and dull, went to the two lifeless bodies that had been lying next to him the whole time. Koiji closed his eyes and gathered himself before he took Oruro's body and placed it as carefully as possible – almost as if he wanted to prevent hurting him even more and causing him pain – in one of the pits. He placed him very carefully and with the utmost effort. Slowly, he reached for the hairpin that had been in his hair and put it in his bag, before turning to the cold body of Arun. He placed him with the utmost gentleness, too. And yet there was so much pain in every move he made – physically and emotionally. He gently removed Arun's hairpin, too, and put the broken pearls and everything else safely into his bag.

He stood there, trembling. Looked at the two of them. Stared at them for what seemed like endless minutes. Night had long since fallen, but the moon was bright and clear that night, no clouds in sight. A sad blue glow fell over them, bathing their bodies in a ghostly white that was so cold and sad as the snow when melting and fading away. Koiji coughed. He looked at his hand and saw fresh blood splatters. But he ignored them. Instead, he sobbed again and began to fill the graves with the shoulder plate, slowly and shakily. It was not typical for Veena. They did not bury their dead in the mountains. If they died in battle, they were not moved. They were left in place to become one with nature again, in recognition of their achievement and their deed. But Koiji knew about the customs of others – he had heard about them, and he wanted to implement this custom. He did not want to leave them lying in the blood-soaked snow next to the disgusting invaders. It was not honorable. It was anything but respectable and honorable! It took a long time; the Veena, with his injuries, had neither the strength nor the speed he usually had. But he didn't care.

When the graves were covered, he placed a shoulder plate in each of them and tied a ribbon around them – one red and one yellow-ochre. Koiji looked around and found untouched yellow winter aconite blossoms growing near a tree. He plucked them and placed the flowers on each of the graves, carefully placing each one so that they would neither be blown away nor simply fall down.

His heart beat heavily, almost too slowly, he felt. He could hear every heartbeat, roaring loudly in his ears, feel the pulsation in his chest. Koiji reached for his chest and clawed into the fabric.

“You said... you said you'd always be with me, Arun. You wanted to see the world outside just as much as I did. Now you can't anymore.” His voice faltered. "I wasn't strong enough. I wasn't attentive enough. You put yourselves in danger and instead of saving yourself, you searched for me. How could it come to this...?" Koiji sobbed bitterly and looked to the left, where the bodies of the Garleans still lay in the distance. His eyes fell back on the graves. “I promised to be brave. I promised to leave. To see the world. I promised to do it for you. You were my family... my real family. We laughed by the fire, we looked at the stars, we talked about all our feelings and thoughts. We trusted each other. I'm so sorry...” he whispered the last words painfully and began to weep bitterly again, shouting and crying. How many tears could one have? How long would it take to cry until they no longer came? How often would one scream until the voice failed and no more sound left his throat?

More agonizing minutes passed before he somehow regained his composure and looked at the graves. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply and quickly, and looked at the graves again. His heart, which had been beating painfully slowly, quickened. “I will come back. I won't forget you. I will come back again and again. I will be brave for you. I will show you the world out there. You will see it, too!” His hand touched the bag with the two hairpins of his friends, which were carefully stored. “I will never forget you...” he whispered. Koiji turned. Suddenly he started running, at first slowly, painfully slowly and limping in pain, but soon the limping became less, the running faster and finally he was racing. He raced through the snow-covered forest, panting with burning pain in his body, glowing pain in his heart and soul and burning eyes. He ran to the end of the forest, as if pursued by the shadow itself and without stopping.

He had lost all sense of time, he felt nothing at all except the burning and the pain, the loss and the grief. How he had made it out of the mountains and on to the edge, he no longer knew.

Koiji was almost at the edge of the forest when his legs gave out and he collapsed near a pond. He lay on the ground, panting heavily, barely able to move. His body felt like a stone, no, like a rock that had rolled down the slope and came to a halt.

Koiji closed his eyes, panting, feeling the ground on his cheek, on his whole body, as if he would merge with it any moment. Horrible images flickered before his mind's eye, he couldn't banish them. Not from his mind, not from his thoughts, not from his heart.

Suddenly, a soft rustling sounded not far from the Viera. His eyes opened, but it was so difficult for him to move. So difficult to turn his head. He had hardly any strength. Was it other Garleans? Had they followed him? Was it one of the beasts of the forest that could devour him, hungry and following his scent of blood?

Koiji closed his eyes. Should it get him, no matter who or what it was. Should it just get him and finish it. Then he would be with Arun and Oruro. Then the pain and suffering would be over. But the words that Arun had told him and the words he had spoken at their graves shot through his mind. Koji heard footsteps approaching him. Opening his eyes again, he turned his head with difficulty. At first his view was blurry, then it slowly became clearer. But he saw neither a Garlear nor a wild beast in front of him... His eyes looked up along the legs in front of him. A deep, fiery red plumage was in front of him and a large beak was bending down towards him.

“Kweh!”

**********

Note:

Being one of the earliest Spring flowers, Winter Aconites symbolize hope, rebirth and new beginnings.

[ungrateful-cyborg-moved]

You're busy? Don't have a Viera or a Lala or a Miqo'te but want to participate in a challenge anyway? We've got the perfect one for you over Etheirys: a chill challenge with 7 prompts to fill over 2 months, and a few spare ones in case you're not inspired by the full list!

And if you come on the forum directly to participate, you'll even get comments on your art. Isn't that nice?