#FFXIV Writing

[shroudkeeper]

I have memorized the very silhouette of your body, the taunt written in your stride, the glint of defiance found in your golden, cold gaze. I have decrypted the blueprint of your motivation, what drives you..and it is the chase. The thrill of dismantling everything I serve while swathed in the shadows of your network.

..that is why it was easy to see through this farce before me.

It was just another birthed from the deafening sounds of your silent revolution. For your cause, they would wear your face, carry a replica of your ceremonial blade, and die all the same under my command without hesitation.

How many bodies will I have to pile for you to rise up and face me? How many will be sacrificed to mold the world as you see fit? Tell me Kikyo, daughter of dissonance, devil strategist..

..my tormenting affliction.

[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.

[mist-touchedxiv]

OC Vibes

Rules: post your OC and then 4 (or more) random pictures with no explanation to convey your characters vibe.

Loksen Tyrwesfv (he/him)

Forced to this at gunpoint by @thefreelanceangel and @roadbound-scholar (SEND AN AMBULAMB)

I'm still kinda on hiatus, so I haven't been checking my dashboard. If you've already done it, OOPS. But, I'll nominate: @amalthea-felsblood @upatreewithoutaharness @chadhunkler @phoebe-of-ivalice @high-and-mighty-odyssean @thefrostflower @madalyn-maeve @lukawarrioroflight @lollybunxiv @but-first--tea @shadesofblades @mistchievousaura @cadrenebula @captainqster @the-doman-oni @elvenarcane @fatecalibration @dragonsongmakhali

[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

[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?

[hazelkjt]

"You never told me you and Mother were world-famous heroes!"

Ah, so that's what it was. Hazel was concerned for a while when Perseverance was more quiet than usual tonight. It was a rare night where Zero was able to take time for herself and visit her family in the Source, taking to reading to Percy while Hazel prepared supper. It was a setup they familiarized themselves with back in Tural, before the family took the journey back to Ishgard where Hazel's own abode resides.

Normally Percy is very interested in what Hazel is making for dinner, but tonight she didn't say a word after entering the apartment. She didn't speak up when Zero asked her what book she wanted to read, so the Voidsent picked up the next in the current series they were in the middle of and began reading. A strange kind of tension was building in the room, Hazel could feel it. But at the same time she had no idea how to address it, at least until Perseverance did.

"You never told me you and Mother were world-famous heroes!" She exclaimed out loud, pointing at and singling out Hazel by the kitchen. Zero shifts slightly from her place on the couch next to Perseverance. It’s been a few weeks since Percy decided to start calling Zero ‘Mother.’ In the child’s own words, “you love Mom, right? So that makes her Mom and you Mother!” Zero of course accepted the title without any hesitance, but it appears she still needs some time to get used to being called that.

Percy was quite upset by this it seemed, but for what reason Hazel didn’t understand. “And…who told you this?” Hazel was genuinely curious, not knowing who among her circle of peers would gossip with Perseverance like that.

“Uncle Thancred.”

Hazel’s eye twitches.

“…Uncle?”

“Yeah.”

No…

“Who told you to start calling him UNCLE Thancred?”

He wouldn’t…

“Uncle Thancred did.”

…He did.

The Au Ra rolls her eyes in disbelief while Zero hides a small smirk behind the novel she was holding. Hazel lets out a sigh and twirls the end of her hair around her finger. How to phrase this…

"I mean, in all honesty it never felt all that necessary to bring up. Neither of us exactly chose to have that hero title thrown on us." Hazel couldn't help having a bit of vitriol slip into her voice near the end. Her attention is caught by Zero closing the book and placing it down next to the child on the couch.

"Hazel is correct, neither of us have ever taken to calling ourselves heroes…though if we were to, she is much more of a hero than I." Zero’s smooth voice softens ever so slightly when complimenting her partner. Hazel, of course, shakes her head in denial to the sudden praise. The Au Ra begins to make her way over to the couch and sits down on the other side.

Perseverance was pouting and looking into the fireplace. It was to be expected, Hazel supposed. Percy had always love stories of adventuring heroes and grand tales of adventure, ever since Hazel first read ‘The Gilded Prince’ to her back in Tural. No, that’s not entirely true…the young girl’s fascination with heroes most likely began back when Hazel first saved her life in Solution Nine, when they first met.

Hazel takes the child’s hand into her own, squeezing it softly. “I’m sorry Percy, we weren’t trying to lie to you or anything.” She does her best to sound reassuring, but Perseverance doesn’t budge an ilm for a few moments. Then, all of a sudden she sits up and stares directly into Hazel’s eyes.

“I wanna be a hero, too!”

The room fell silent except for the crackling of the wood in the fireplace. “I wanna help people, like you!” Perseverance continued, wide eyed while glancing back and forth at both her parents. Zero gives Hazel a subtle look, but one the Au Ra picks up nonetheless. The Voidsent didn’t know how to respond, not that Hazel blamed her. She had no idea what to say either.

Percy continues to glance back and forth between Hazel and Zero, her determined expression slowly turning to one of confusion and sadness. “Did, did I say something wrong?” The young girl looks down sullenly, removing her hand from Hazel’s and curling up to hug her knees on the couch. This snaps Hazel back to attention, her tail smacking the side of the furniture out of surprise.

“No! No, no no no! You didn’t do anything wrong!” She smiles while reassuring her daughter, ruffling the young one’s hair in the process. “Indeed, if anything we should be apologizing for not informing you earlier.” Zero adds on while placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder. The Voidsent gently begins to rub Percy’s shoulder with her thumb, something she picked up from the many times Hazel did it to comfort her.

Percy’s worry fades from her face, but the confusion remains. “Then why do you look sad?” The child asks, still holding her legs tight to her chest. Another difficult question, one that the two take some time to think about before answering. Hazel opens her mouth to speak, but Zero beats her to the punch.

“There is nothing wrong with having dreams about the future…but being a hero isn’t something you should wish for so innocently.” The Voidsent’s eyes seem to darken with those last words, any semblance of warmth fading from her face…

And yet Hazel agreed, as images began flashing before her eyes…

A fallen axe…a broken shield…a shattered staff…a warm smile…and so many more that had died. All the pain, and suffering, and loss that became tied to her life, all because of the damn title that was forced on her, and-

“…Mom?” Perseverance’s shaky voice pulls Hazel out of her own head, back to the image of her daughter looking very concerned up at her. The Au Ra takes a few deep breaths to steady herself, then looks to Percy with a smile. “I’m okay, sorry.” Her voice was still a bit shaky, but she tried her best to give a genuine and warm smile.

“Zee’s right…being a hero isn’t something you can just decide to be. And even then, it’s not always like how it is in the books. You don’t always get a happily ever after.” Hazel gives a quick look up to Zero, feeling a pain in her heart over everything the Voidsent has lost and been through.

Percy grips the fabric of her pant legs tighter. “I know that, but…” she trails off for a moment before letting her legs go, sitting back normally on the couch. “But I wanna anyway. I wanna help people. I wanna save people!” Hazel lets out a defeated sigh and looks up once more to her partner. Zero’s facial expression doesn’t change from her usual neutral gaze, but she does give the smallest of shrugs while looking down at Perseverance.

“Alright then…” the Au Ra gives in, standing up from the couch. “If you’re dead set on this we can talk more after dinner. Deal?” Percy’s entire face lights up as she grins from ear to ear. “Deal!” The young girl practically shoots off the couch and over to the large pot in the kitchen area, peering over the side and taking in the smell. Hazel begins to walk over as well, taking a detour to cross Zero’s side of the couch.

“Are you sure?” Zero pulls Hazel down by the arm and whispers next to her horn. The Au Ra takes a deep breath and smiles. “She lives up to her name, if we said no she’d just try it behind our backs. At least this way I can prepare her the best I can.” Hazel keeps eye contact with Zero for a few moments, giving a slight nod to the Voidsent.

Zero closes her eyes and turns her head away from Hazel, letting go of her arm. “Very well then.” She moves her hand up to her head, grasping at nothing just above her brow. She still hasn’t gotten used to not wearing her hat, it seems. Hazel tries her best to hold in her laughter, but a slight bit leaks out the cracks of her mouth. “Old habits die hard, huh?” She jokes as some color floods the Voidsent’s cheeks.

“Yes yes, amusing.” Zero rolls her eyes and stands up from the couch, a small smile on her face as she and Hazel gaze towards Percy. The young girl was on her tiptoes staring over the edge, trying her best not to touch the hot metal of the pot. Hazel slowly begins to intertwine her fingers into Zero’s hand, wrapping her tail around her waist for good measure. The two exchange no more words and simply take in the moment in front of them.

Their daughter…

Their future…

Their everything.

[cimarraskylark]

Tonight is a night for some of my favorite feels. 😭💕

“I know you will long outlive me... But, even so—” “Aymeric.” She took his face gently but firmly into her hands, lifting his distressed gaze to meet hers. “No matter when or how, my place will be beside you. Your time may come first, but when mine comes, I will lie at your side. For there is nowhere else I wish to be.”

[umbralaether]

[ hummingbird ] a series of light, rapid, and fluttery kisses on a small area (feels very G'raha to me)

Ever since their baby started kicking, G'raha was obsessed.

This precious thing, created by the love of his life, felt the need to let its presence be known every time he was there. It was after the third or fourth instant that Eisha had to remind him that it was his voice that had the baby's attention.

“It likes when you sing. You have another fan.” Her smile is so sweet it makes his teeth hurt.

“Oh, is that so?” He leans his face closer to her belly, “Little one, does my singing please you?”

A soft bump against his hand, and the two of them laugh.

It hadn't been easy, her pregnancy. The morning sickness was an unwanted guest that left her miserable, and she worried constantly about losing the baby. Things had smoothed out in the second trimester, and now nearing the third she was ordered to stay home, rest and take it easy.

She was never one to ask for help and hated to feel useless, so G'raha made sure to spoil her senseless in every way he could.

That meant learning how to bake a very specific type of chocolate cake, but after three failed attempts he finally got it right.

There were handfuls of friends and colleagues sending gifts, offering to help. There was a baby shower, and they wanted for nothing in terms of supplies. The entire nursery had been decorated by Tataru and Krile. There was a buzz of excitement in the air that seemed to infect everyone around them, too.

Now, he just wanted to spend every second he could with her. It wouldn't be just the two of them forever.

The baby seemed to read his mind, fluttering again against Eisha and his hands.

“Very active today, aren't you?” Eisha coos.

G'raha can't help but grin. By the Twelve above did he love her more than anything. She was giving him the family he had always wanted. He nuzzles closer to her, a soft kiss on her cheek followed by a hundred more peppered along her skin— her forehead, her temples, along her cheek to her nose.

“Raha, that tickles,” She giggles, and the sound is music to his ears.

He continues the assault of kisses all along her face.

[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.

[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.

[shroudkeeper]

.beloved

She was meant to be a device to utilize for his means, one who had amassed a faithful following that he could seize if he could claim her. Scáthach was rumored to be an eccentric queen, preferring neutrality in her rule, yet held significant power over the dead and voidsent who sought refuge under her dominance.

He would convince her, and if necessary, by force to forge an allegiance. He'd offer an arrangement that would provide equal control over the regions of this ravaged world, wrangle it free from obstreperous, and weak figureheads, to unify it. To help it thrive.

Though he was not one to share.

His ambitions were set in place, and he knew well what needed to be done to accomplish it. Yet, they bore no fruit in the end; he misunderstood the source of her power and why she held on to it for long, even when slumbering in her solitude.

..because she was beloved by those who served her.

Beloved.

It was both a nightmare and a blessing to know the meaning of what it was to be beloved now after her passing. Before she came into his life, such a foreign word had lost all meaning in this space and time, long forgotten by the residents that dwell here. However, she gave it a physical form with her existence; her presence defined this accursed, beautiful word. Try as he might, he could not forget that day when he first met her and the impact she left after her death.

It started in the desolation of her sanctum, where she was still praised as the current sovereign, she was roused by the oppressive aether that slithered into the tranquility of her dormancy. An all-out battle was anticipated by those who kept guard of her, for the trespass was a declaration to overthrow her.

There was little opposition in his way, instead little stood in the way of this demonic abomination treading her vast halls, where twisting macabre shadows, forged from flickering hellfire, herald his welcome. Roses parted their petals along vines long affected by rot, revealing an eye that watched every movement made by his company. Whispers and snarls resonated against the dilapidated stone, cursing his lot until it all fell silent when he reached her chambers.

Beyond this door he believed that what he would discover would be the missing link to put him closer to his goal of conquest, however, it only led him to the subjugation of his heart.

[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.

[mist-touchedxiv]

What's In Your OC's Bag?

Just for fun/character details, here are some things that Loksen keeps on his person as he adventures.

Feel free to list some of your OCs'!

Hyotan gourd: Usually carries some nice sake when he can get it or water. The sake is usually infused with Aether to aid in recovery and also ignite to great effect

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Survival knife: A Wood-warder's best friend. From hunting to crafting to shoveling to building, it's as precious to Loksen as a limb. A gift from his father.

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Loksen's Bow: A Wood-warder's weapon. Tweaked and perfected and sometimes rebuilt over the years by Loksen. His praeternatural skill with it has earned the respect and admiration of the Gods' Quiver and Woodwailers of Gridania. From hunting to combat, it has been a vital part of his life for as long as he can remember.

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Straw Hat: Keeps his head dry in the rain and the sun out of his eyes. Has small slits for his long leoporine ears.

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Small ceruleum cartridges: Cartridges about the size of an adult's thumb with refined ceruleum. Used to power the modified quickdraw scabbard he utilizes for his blade. Something like the above photo, but with glowing blue piping.

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Hand fishing rod: A small fishing rod and assorted bait. Growing up amongst the waterways of the Skatay Range, Loksen is an avid fisherman and likes to be prepared for when the opportunity arises to do some angling. For sport, for survival, for gil, he's always ready.

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Garlean gunblade: A strange blade for a samurai, Loksen sometimes keeps it wrapped in a large cloth when he's not on a job that requires his sword skills to avoid unwanted attention. From the numerous folks with an understandable grudge against Garlemald who would mistaken the wanderer for an enemy and would want to strike first, ask questions later to Garleans who would be outright disgusted and enraged that an Eorzean savage would have possession of such an honored Imperial weapon. The gunblade has been modified to be suitable for use as a samurai weapon.

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Book of Viera romance poetry: An object that would be of great interest to Sharlayan literary scholars that offers insight into the romantic lives of the notoriously secretive Viera, as those who have left the Green Word tend to embrace the culture of their new homes. Loksen found this among the refuse of the Ossuary, a find that was overlooked due the largely unfamiliar Viera written language. Despite a bit of an aversion to more academic pursuits, Loksen has a great love for the familiar poetry of his people, which ranges from the sentimental beauty of longing to the titillating erotica that has warmed him on lonely, cold nights.

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Kiseru pipe: A nasty habit, but the fragrant smoke helps to dull his extremely strong sense of smell when necessary. Plus, it's nice after a good meal or sex.

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@amalthea-felsblood @thefreelanceangel @chadhunkler @umari-xiv @upatreewithoutaharness @rinakagane @selnyam @roguestly @lal-ffxiv @vasheden @astrology-bf @dasulqui @duskmother

Whetstones

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What's in your bag?

[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...

[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.