#FFXIVWrite2019

[miqojak]

Once upon an FFXIVWrite I made an homage to Disney's Aladdin, and somehow Crying Dove, the brothel Madam, became a recurring NPC.

Prompt #5: Vault

( @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast​ for the prompt! And @miqo-vynnie for the mention!)

“In trouble a little early today, aren’t we little Jackal?”

Her lungs burned, and the warped wood of the door against which she pressed herself scraped against cloth and flesh alike, splinters prickling like burrs.

“Only in trouble if I get caught!” Breathlessly, does she spare a disarming smile for the matronly woman sweeping her stoop, and she was off again - long legs carrying her down yet another of Ul’dah’s alleys - as a man’s voice cried out behind her, “Thief! Street rat!”

As she vaulted herself over a low wall, she clutched the parcel with its contents close, “It’s just a little lunch!” The bite of a blade into the wall behind her was all the answer she needed, as her tiny feet skidded around a corner.

None of the passersby stood in the way of her escape…but neither did they assist her. Such was the way of the world - each and every one of them struggled, but to aid another in their survival could cost you your own. 

One stolen cloak later, she’d curled her tail up and around her - hood pulled up - and ducked into one of the less seedy brothels. She didn’t begrudge the workers…she and Vynnie did what they had to do as well, after all…but today’s mission was, quite simply, to cut through to their back alley and backtrack on her own trail. The guards would keep going, and she’d be -

“I told you to keep your little Jackal paws out of my den of debauchery ‘less you was lookin’ for work!” The buxom madame stormed into the room, and Jak picked up speed, calling over a slender shoulder, “The Blades don’t appreciate I’m broke, Dove!”

Crying Dove was a towering woman, and Jak would rather have the Blades pissed at her, than this woman. You didn’t fuck with Crying Dove. Not even the Brass Blades…unless it was in the literal sense.

“Yeah, and they’d appreciate you more with your legs open, and mouth shut - instead of all the grabbing you do with those damn sticky paws of yours!” Dove didn’t give chase - there was some…grudging respect there. Both women made their way in the world the only way they knew how. Dove just didn’t want the law coming down on her in force, and the little thief tried to respect that. Even if she did keep refusing Dove’s offer to earn a more…’steady’ income. 

With time, and a nigh photographic memory of Ul’dah’s interconnected alleyways, she made her way back to the grungy shithole she and Vynnie called home - and tossed the little burlap-wrapped bundle his way, where it knocked him in the side of the head, “Eat up.” She threw herself down on a pile of dilapidated cushions, “We’re going to have to switch up how we do this, because I can’t keep leading the Blades through the alleys of Ul’dah like baying hounds.”

He rubbed at his ear, and spared a look half-frustration, half-concern, as he rather obviously looked her over for blood, or wounds. “You know, I had an idea.”

His twin looked at him quizzically, in the fading light of day, as he continued - mouth full, “I call it: The Seduce and Snatch.”

[nalukahvi]

And, because for a couple years there I was locked out of this account, here is the last 4 years of participation prizes I’ve done! 

[benjimirthursby]

FFXIV Write 2021, Prompt #1 "Foster."

FFXIV Write 2021 entry, prompt #1 “Foster.”

The Book of Thursby: Scions of Numenor “Fetch and Carry.”

“Boredom is the birthmother of frivolity. Given enough time a sufficiently unengaged people will give rise to the same trinkets and distractions and the craft which makes them possible.”

-Ossmira Miegs, “Technospectives.”

Ches sifted her way through the dirt with a soft brush from her kit until reaching solidly packed soil, hardened for a millenia or longer. She replaced the brush to her leather dig kit and withdrew a small rock hammer. The head was new to the handle, made of pure Mythril from the east. It was a gift of sorts from a close associate who was bound to a pack of private mariner soldiers for hire. There was as story, even a song about the broken hammer heads his kindred. They were foster children to a venerated woman named Mother Maxwell. Not unlike herself.

The hammer made short work of the condensed dirt and after further work she came upon her quarry. Drawing it from a pocket of soil, which had produced a form fitting pocket that protected it for until she found it, she packed her kit and wrapped the strange object in an oil rag and deposited it in her long leather duster. Satisfied her work was done, she adjusted the rim of her leather fedora, turned and spied a ring of men in the hall between her and the exit. “Chocopoo.” she muttered.

Baxter Twinkinryker IV, “The Quad,” as his kindred Lalafel dubbed him, favored a tweed jacket with leather elbow pads and a rust hued fedora favored by his compatriots. His broom like mustache was not common but seemed to complete the quasi academic look he favored.

He awaited Ches’ returned quietly outside the archway to the ruins. The fat chocobo he rented from the keeper in Ul’Dah cooed and pecked upward at the bait at the end stick riders would use to direct it along, hoping for a random bite.

At last the rapid footfalls from within the entrance faded as Ches came in a tremendous rush out of it. As she passed him and began to mount the Chocobo he asked, “Was it there? Did you get it there?”

Not stoping, She lept upon the saddle and reaching down she grasped Baxter by his tastefully matched tweed vest and flung him into the rumble seat behind her. “Yes it was, yes I did. We go home now” Ches said, pulling the direction stick from it’s mount, spurring the Chocobo and reeling it to the left. Baxter could hear the report of weapons and feet rising from the entrance to the ruins again as the great and fat bird lunged forward and away. At once there was a sharp crack, then another, and the arch of the entrance collapsed. Standing in his little seat behind Ches Baxter looked aghast at the runs all about seeming to fall pel mel. “What did you do?” he asked. “Making friends and influencing people.” Ches replied.

[karoiseka]

Day 8 for MiqoMarch: Formal  I’m going to link, and copy and paste a prompt I wrote for FFXIVWrite2019 for this one because... I finally have crime and could screenshot it semi-properly.  (I had to glove the boy, because his crystal arm/hand is tied to his robe, and I needed/wanted the tail damnit)

Hesitation is found Here originally.

   Crowds filled the Musica Universalis as the residents celebrated the defeat of the Lightwardens, this time at the two month anniversary of the Exarch and the Scions returning to the Crystarium after the battle in the Tempest.  Karoiseka walked alongside the Exarch observing the festivities and happiness that permeated the atmosphere of the dome.  She could feel how close he was, their shoulders almost brushing, as they stole glances at each other, ears flickering.  Their red and black tails as well as shy hands reached for each other time and again, never quite touching before swinging apart again with flushed cheeks as they turned away from each other quickly.  The two had only recently acknowledged their feelings for each other privately, the celebration being the first public event since.

   Karo knew that it was only a matter of time before the entire Crystarium knew, but she still hesitated.  She had faced Primals, Lightwardens, Asciens and more, yet, this simple gesture made her heart beat as fast as any battle she had been in.  Glancing over at G’raha Tia once more, she couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she watched his ruby eyes light up as he talked to the young healer from Fort Jobb.  His long red locks fell into his face as he talked, and Karo felt her heart swell. He had waited decades to even see her again, where it had been a scant couple of years for her.  Why should we hide? We’re happy, and might not have all the time we want, but we have here and now.

    Finally grounded, she shifted just slightly to finally capture his hand in hers, their tails automatically mimicking their clasp hands. His words stumbled as his face flushed, but he soldiered through his sentence before turning towards her with a dazzling smile.  G'raha lifted their joined hands, placing a delicate kiss on the Bard’s knuckles before squeezing her hand and continuing to hold it between them. His ears flicked with joy as he continued his conversation, obviously distracted at this point. Neither of them saw the residents of the dome slowly take notice, nudging each other and not quite whispering their glee.  Just as the healer was called away from their chat hands landed on both Miqo'te’s outside shoulders, and a silver haired head leaned down between their startled faces.

    "About time…" is all Lyna said with a mischievous grin before heading up the stairs to the Winding Stairs. The Exarch chuckled softly as he watched his ward walk away, glad that she approved.  A soft whisper escaped his lips as they started to meander once more, this time hand in hand as one.

    "Yes, yes it is…"

[sea-wolf-coast-to-coast]

FFxivWrite2019

FFxiv 30 Day Writing Challenge SEPTEMBER 1st - 30th, 2019

Welcome to YEAR 3 of our annual FFxiv 30 Day Writing Challenge, folks!

In 2017 we saw 2,451 written pieces ranging from three-lined haikus to multi-paged stories. 2018 ramped up even more with 3,641 written pieces! 

We are a merry band of prolific writers, FFxiv RP community, and I couldn't be prouder of our willingness to challenge ourselves creatively, using our RP craft as inspiration. Let’s see how we do in 2019!

Here’s the gist:

Runs from September 1st - 30th, 2019. During that timeframe:

Visit @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast​ once a day at 12:00pm (noon) PST for the prompt of the day. All prompts will be one word or brief phrase that you can interpret however you please.

You have 24 hours to write something for that prompt.

Submit the link to your entry post via this Google Form: https://forms.gle/EJV82Wh85BZpwaFa9  – Tumblr has been hiding @ mentions from my dash which means that I’m missing so many of your entries. :( Submitting a link to your post via this Form will ensure that everyone’s posts are seen and tracked! Please help me, haha. Tag @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast​ in your post, and use the hashtag #FFxivWrite2019.

There are no length or skill requirements (short & sweet is fine!).

There will be no 24-hour deadlines for the first week, September 1st - 7th.

Makeup/extra credit days every Sunday.

Every entry posted within its 24-hour deadline will count toward a participation prize raffle at the end.

You can join any time - late entries are welcome! They simply won’t count toward participation prizes - unless submitted on a makeup day.

If you’re an artist and you would like to volunteer to do a simple black & white illustration as a participation prize at the end of this challenge, please let me know!

RULES & MORE INFO below the cut~

What’s the purpose of this writing challenge?

First and foremost, the purpose of this challenge is to break the power of perfectionism over your personal creative process. Some folks frown on my 24-hour submission deadline but I think that it’s a critical part in getting people to just go ahead and submit something, even if it’s not perfect, and in doing so perfectionism begins to lose its power day by day.

If you’re someone who rarely creates because the fear of it not being perfect keeps you from starting or finishing, then this challenge is designed for YOU!

Of course, connecting FFxiv writers, of all skill and experience levels, and sharing our work is also a perk!

Rules:

You cannot submit things that you’ve already written – Even if the topic is the same. All entries must be new and freshly written for this challenge!

No rough drafts and no redos – Relax! Use this as a low-pressure opportunity to loosen up and de-rust your writing chops. No one will be judging your work for quality or length. The purpose is to get into the habit of writing daily. Don’t overthink it, and don’t put too much pressure on yourself! It’s all for fun!

Submit the link to your entry post via this Google Form: https://forms.gle/EJV82Wh85BZpwaFa9  – Tumblr has been hiding @ mentions from my dash which means that I’m missing so many of your entries. :( Submitting a link to your post via this Form will ensure that everyone’s posts are seen and tracked! Please help me, haha. Tag @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast in all of your entries and use the #FFxivWrite2019 hashtag – Thanks to Tumblr shadowbans, using a hashtag alone is no longer a great way for me to track prompt entries. :( So! Tag me, please, so that I don’t miss your posts. You’ll know that I’ve tracked your post when you see a like from me (NOTE: sometimes it takes 48 hours for me to catch up to your latest posts). 

Select which Prompt # your submitted link is for in the Google Form  – There’s no longer a need to include the Prompt # in the title of the post unless you want to for your own tracking purposes. Include the prompt number in the TITLE of your post – Example: “Prompt #10: Your clever post name.” Entries without the prompt number included in the post title won’t be counted toward prizes.

You have until prompt #7 to back write for participation prizes – That means that if you discover the writing challenge a few days, or even a week after it’s started, you can still jump in and back write as many of the first 7 prompts as you want and they’ll count as entries toward the participation prize! After day 8, however, no back writing will be counted towards the prize - unless it’s submitted on a makeup day. That being said, it is totally possible for someone with only 1 participation entry for the duration of the contest to be drawn as the participation prize winner so don’t give up due to lack of participation overall!

Absolutely no griefing, harassing, or trolling other writers – This will earn you an automatic disqualification from the event.

Tag NSFW content with #NSFW and put it below a cut – Similarly, if your entry contains graphic or violent content that may be triggering to others, please include a brief trigger warning at the top of your post. Be considerate of your readers!

Make-up Days / Extra Credit Days:

EVERY SUNDAY will be a makeup/extra credit day. No prompt will be provided on these days. Instead, you’re welcome to back write and submit as many entries for previous prompts as you’d like! You can also make up your own prompt to write to for the day and submit that as extra credit.

Completing all prompts + extra credit will put you at 30 entries total toward the participation prize raffle.

Participation Prizes:

In early October, I will total up the number of all entries made within their 24-hour deadline, or on makeup days/extra credit, and draw winning numbers for a black & white portrait of their character drawn by one of our volunteer artists.

The number of available prizes depends on how many artists volunteer.

While we do have prizes, remember that getting a prize is not the ultimate purpose of this challenge. It’s a chance for you to beat the snot out of perfectionism in your creative process by just DOING IT! :D

As always, send me an ask or a message with questions. 

Let’s do this, FFxiv community!

(( FFxiv2019 banner art by @dantinmikannes ))

[astraladvent]

Prompt #8 - Clamor

((cw: blood))

The chrysalis was warm, pleasantly so. It almost didn’t want to leave -- yet in order to escape the prison man had so painstakingly constructed for it, leaving the comfortable warmth was a necessity. Perhaps outside it would be warmer, more pleasant. There was a light pressure upon the fleshy wrap that surrounded it; muffled sounds, wild aether cast about like spilled wheat. A feast, if anything. It could feel its host dwindle in number -- that wild aether the result of fevered battle. There was no time to waste. 

The flesh tore, and a great deluge of red spilled forth onto the already blood-slicked stone road. The clamor of battle rose from a muffle to a roar, and red light burned down from a damned sky. The scattered aether was delicious, and it instantly partook of it without shame or hesitation. Who would deny such a feast? Unlike the traces it had sipped on during its long stay in its pupal stages, however, this aether would not influence its form. Not like the Hellsguard who dared to command it had. Not like the Hyur who had dared to touch its mind had. Not like the hyur it had supped so greedily on had. Not like the Miqo’te who sought to play its master had. Not like the Miqo’te who had touched its essence had. 

It was grateful to them all, for without them, it would not have perceived how to make its flesh -- flesh that stood in the middle of the road, soaked in red and still draining above the slick remains of its own womb. It stood tall and powerful as a Hellsguard in stature, strapping and muscular with skin like red clay. Granted, its skin was not quite visible under the coating of dripping blood. The Hellsguard’s influence ended just at the end of its thick neck, upon which a hyur’s head was awkwardly perched. It was a worn, midlander sort, smoothened by a red film. Thick crimson dripped from what would have been a blond beard. Large, bright blue eyes peered about, eyes that seemed a bit ill-fitted to the head’s bone structure, and perhaps just a tad too large for its face. The mouth was of a similar, oddly placed quality, a tad too small, with the definite and subtle placings of a Miqo’te. Even more curious were the hair and ears -- the hair was brown, in comparison to the blond beard, and from them pricked up a pair of Miqo’te ears that didn’t seem to have cared that there were already a pair of hyuran ears on the sides of its head. 

There it stood, an agglomeration of those who had recently touched it, a macabre tribute to the contributions of those who would see it free. A monument; a memorial. Ever would their image live on in it, for the time had come for their flesh to pass. It did not draw breath, for its lungs were full of blood. It did not hunger, for its belly was heavy and sloshing, and the aether around it provided much. It did not lust, what was placed between its legs was of no consequence. It did, however, wish to kill -- and as its malice extended to connect to every heart and brain around it, its bloody dirge spelled itself out in a circle of glowing symbols at its feet. To the eye of anyone who knew, the symbols were spelled out clearly.

Racing hearts feed rushing minds, and from such heavy bounty I sup.

Every heart around it thundered, every mind around it buzzed. These...adventurers, these mortals -- they would pay the final toll.

[grumpy-limsan-customs-cat]

#4 - Clinch

"Ooooh! As I thought, they fit you perfectly!"

The short, stocky huyran woman buzzed around the Viera, the sudden tug on the waist making them flinch slightly as she adjusted the sash wrapped around it. She hummed softly to herself, a cheerful lilt in her voice as she gave her new customer an appraising eye, only making the tall fledgling even more tense under the staring.

Fymh still wasn't sure just how they had got themselves into this situation. Just a moment ago they had carefully entered through the door, just to look around the shop in search of something to replace their usual attire with, as the more tribal outfit had been a little too alarming for possible job givers. And, before they had had a chance to speak, they had been whisked away. The never ending stream of cheerful, excited words had echoed through the one long ear and out the other as the huyr had ushered them into one of the changing rooms, with a pile of clothing in their arms.

"Yes! Yes, this is it! The simple, dark tones with a hint of blue, not too showy in design, but still clean and functional. Shirts like these are very popular with adventurers nowadays, you know?"

Functional, that was something the viera had to disagree with. Perhaps the long, loose sleeves were comfortable and kept one warm in most weathers, but they could already feel the cloth pulling and tugging against their shoulders, restricting every movement. How did people fight in these?

"Ahh, they work perfectly with that wild, handsome look of yours too! Those sharp features, that slight frown, the tall, strong but slender frame...I'm sure you've made plenty of gals swoon in your time, hmmm?"

Too close. She was standing too close. The hands idly, but curiously patting their waist and shoulders made Fymh's head spin, only soft, stammering murmurs escaping their lips, unsure whether to agree or disagree. They wanted to retreat into their mask, out of here, out of the city, and up the nearest tree. At this point any tree would've been fine. As long as it was tall enough to completely disappear into.

"Oh! You agree, yes? Then you will take the whole set, right?"

Their mismatched hues could barely hold contact with those eager eyes trying to catch them, the viera's head finally dipping into a slight, timid nod of resignation.

"Y-yes, I...I will take them."

[cactuarjen]

FFxivWrite2019 Participation Prize

For the super great @onwesterlywinds of the adventurous, quite possibly headstrong Ahtyn of Balmung. Looks like Feo Ul is having a hard time with her. 

I was really amused with the entry this piece is based on, and you can read it here.

Big thanks to @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast for putting in the hours to keep track of the literal thousands of posts participants shared this year! It’s gotten bigger and bigger every year, so I look forward to being awed by the mountain of posts next year too!

[hithren]

FFXIVWrite2019 Participation Prize

For @aegis-fate A big thank you to @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast for running this whole thing again, and I was happy to help with a raffle prize.

[fuditika]

冬コミ取れてたので新刊出す予定です。

12/29 西２ホール い-04b パドックはげ頭で参加します。

[aethernoise]

FFxivWrite2019 Participation Prize

Orara Ora for @axispheydra 

I was super excited to get to volunteer art this year and even MORE excited to draw this strong and lovely little Paladin. Thank you again to @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast for organizing the event, and to everybody who participated. See you all again next year /cheer

| ko-fi | patreon |

[owlespresso]

Aymeric / Prompt #2: Bargain

Playing catch up in @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast‘s September FFXIV challenge! I only type with my left hand, so this was a little difficult.

“Where are you going, if I may ask?” The low thrum of Aymeric’s voice isn’t accusatory, rather curious. It makes you freeze in place, nonetheless. Your chilled fingers clutch onto your boot, dropping it moments later as you turn to look at him.

He’s still nestled underneath the sheets. The broad expanse of his body is lavished by rich, blue sheets, which conveniently dip over his hips to conceal his modesty. Your mouth goes dry at the sight, and his lips quirk into a little smile. I’ve got you, he says, but doesn’t say it at all. 

You wish he would. You wish he’d cave in and just admit that he wants less or no space between you, wants to hold your hand, wants to feel the press of your body fitting snuggly against his own. He never does. It’s guerrilla warfare, composed of coy smiles brief touches and soft words. He pretends to not see the way your gaze lingers on his plump lips when he talks, pretends that he’s not looking for an opening, a chink in your armor that he can hook into.

“Leaving,” you respond, “I want to go see how the Sultana is fairing.”

“At four in the morning?” you look down at your lap, hands pressed over the cotton fabric of your pants, “If what the reports say are to be believed, she’s just woken up. And I assure you that she won’t take kindly to you barging in at such an ungodly hour.”

“I…” it’s difficult to articulate your feelings. You want to stay, but to stay without complaint is to surrender, to give him what he wants. And is that so bad? No, it’s not. You should be giving him the world, should be falling at his feet. Citizens of any sex and class would kill to be where you are right now, but knowing that makes it all hard to stomach. Overwhelming.

All you’ve ever known is violence and competitiveness, and you’re scared to leave it.

“Stay,” he beseeches, voice a low croon. It sends a shiver up your spine. His eyes crinkle upwards with his smile, a show of unadulterated joy. He hides nothing from you, shows you just how much he wants with the look on his face.

“I have places to be,” your voice crinkles. You want to stay. You really do. But there’s the tiny voice in the back of your head that says “If you stay, this becomes real. This becomes commitment.”. It scares you.

“Can I not persuade you?” his voice melds against the silver of the walls and tiled floor, the blue tapestries that hang from the walls. You drag your gaze along them and pretend you can actually see their intricate details. It takes another sigh of your name to get your attention, “I’ll have you brought the finest breakfast in the morning. Whatever you’d like.”

“You’re trying to bargain me into your bed, now?” you can’t keep the smile off your face as you look at him once more, “Honestly, I’m not worth all this, Aymeric.”

“Your modesty is appreciated, but I think that is up to me to decide,” he reached a hand forward, eyelids drooping in a sultry, soft look. Your eyes glued to the move and stretch of his muscular torso. How warm he must be. How handsome he is. How dedicated he’s grown towards you, despite your warnings, “Come morning, I’ll have the chefs make your favorite.”

Your hand trembles as you reach forward to take his, thoughts rumbling and shaking like a cart’s precious cargo over rugged, bumpy terrain.

His blue gaze locks with yours and he has you hook, line and sinker.

[nalukahvi]

FFxivWrite2019 Participation Prize  - @ahlis-xiv 

I had the pleasure of drawing Ahlis’ name from the pool of participants in the 2019 FFXIV Write challenge hosted and maintained by @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast ! 

All Rights Reserved; This work is not free-use and may not be taken, claimed, edited, copied, redistributed, or otherwise used without my consent. Reposting is 🚫, Reblogging is ♥

• • • ⦃ Twitch ⦄ • ⦃ Twitter ⦄ • ⦃ Commission Info ⦄ • ⦃ Ko-Fi ⦄ • • •

[benjimirthursby]

FFXIV Write Prompt #3, “Scale.”

The Book of Thursby: Scions of Numenor - “Pressure Bands.”

FFXIV Write Prompt #3, “Scale.”

“Osimira’s unchallenged purview was in matters of technocraft, engineering, Dossimir theory. I hold her in the highest respect as I would like to think is mutual. She recognized not all answers came by equation or through electromagnetic bonds. So she turned to me in compiling a base of information from historic records and journals. It was a successful project, but we began to discover more than we were looking for. It was not long before our research gave rise to the keeping of dream logs. Not all answers were to be found in history either.” - Tinifalas Thursby, “Stranger in a Strange Land.”

Bondermir arrived to find Wang, Vilnius, as Osimira, and Vaunter already assembled about the room. A chart table, rounds of drink and the plates of at least one meal already atop of it. Osimira and Wang were pondering numbers and such on a chalkboard. Vilnius and Maxwell were at the far end of the table gamefully discussing a small chart between them over cups of wine. For his part Benjimir was enraptured by his book. The title read “Thermobaric Physics in Application.” in inlaid gold pressed letters. “A bit of light reading?” Bondermir asked as he drew a chair up near his brother at the table. Benjimir lowered his book and adjusted his glasses on his nose. “Light” he spoke with emphasis, “is almost precisely the problem, ironically.” he said, pulling the bookmark between the pages and closing the book as he dropped the book between them.

Picking the book up and look over the title and thumbing through the chapter Benjimir had been reading. “There are alternatives to this. Simpler.” Bondermir said. “Again, no. Simpler to employ, more complex in the repercussions.” Benjimir said. Another round in a lingering difference of opinion began. “A lot has been….and will be sacrificed to make the moment possible. If this phase does not succeed it may all prove for nought. And for a matter of principle.” Bondermir replied but Benjimir was having none of it in this iteration of the debate.

“Sacrificed for these principles. Not because of them.” Benjimir said firmly and with a glare leveled into Bondermir’s eyes which made it clear the issue was closed. Bondermir nodded low and held his open palms up in supplication. Then he leaned back and gestured to the book and table charts. “And how goes it with this?” He asked. “It does not scale.” Benjimir said, shrugging and glancing with his eyes and a nod to Osimira and Wang who were gamefully drawing and counter-drawing on the chalkboard. On a smaller scale, yes, but the volume of space at the objective, not so much.” Bondermir nodded. “Fuel problem?” He asked. “Volume and chemistry actually.” Benjimir answered. “Ceruleum is well suited for the task. But how to transport the volume needed and the mix that will sustain the detonation.”

“The detonation won’t support itself even with Ceruleum?” Bondermir asked. “Within certain pressure bands, yes, but as the explosion expands it fills the space, the physics change, the ignition point to trigger the ceruleum changes. On a smaller scale different mixes can actually detonate as that happens and sustain the explosion. But then pressure builds, the physics change again, and so forth. Bonding the Corillium infused gas with third elements, mixed in fourth or fifth elements, that is nothing that has been done before.” Benjimir elaborated to the extent of his understanding of the matter. “Wang and Osimira are working the problem now. Until the delivery method is determined the rest is moot.” Benjimir said as he reached for another cup of tea. “What are we calling this phase, should it be included in the final plan?” Bondermir asked. Benjimir took a long sip and replied.

“Almighty.”

*******

[karoiseka]

Day 11 of MiqoMarch: Desert!  Went for another old prompt to finally add screenshots to properly.

Originally found Here: Wilt

The unrelenting sun of the First beat down on Karoiseka as she scoured the desert for her dear friend.  Alisaie was out here somewhere, and Karo was frantic to find her, to see her, to know she was hale.  Amh Araeng’s sand was creeping into her boots as she rounded the corner of one of the towering ruins around her.  Wilting under the oppressive heat, she sipped from the waterskin she had brought along.

Hearing a noise from above, her heart skipped a beat as she saw the Red Mage drop down from the top of the building in the pursuit of a sin-eater.  Dispatching it quickly, her friend left her back to her.  Karo knew she had been spotted, as their eyes had met on her jump down, but Alisaie had yet to turn.  Karo’s heart fell.  Was she truly so disappointed that the Warrior of Light had not arrived sooner?  Was she not glad to see her friend after so very long?

Doubt disappeared, and Karo’s heart flourished as Alisaie finally turned, and after a moment fell into each other’s arms holding tight.

“I thought I had lost you. I promise I didn’t leave you,” Karo choked back a sob, trying to stay strong in the hot sunlight, the pain of a scant few weeks ago still raw in her heart.  She knew it had been much longer for Alisaie, who had seemed to come to terms with it until Karo had pulled her into a tight embrace.  They clung together, not letting go for quite some time, finally satisfied the other wasn’t going to vanish.

[autumnslance]

Prompt #23: Parched

((I am blaming @escapism-velocity and @castthemintotheabyss for this. You know what you did.

...OK, so maybe the “annoy Emet-Selch” bit already existed in shorter form in a draft scrap, but most of this is new, tangentially related to the prompt at best, and all y’all’s fault so there.))

“...Did you somehow adopt another one?” Aeryn asked.

“What?” Thancred blinked and looked down. A nutkin sat at his feet, gnawing on an acorn. It looked up and chittered, running around his boots upon being noticed. “I did not adopt it.”

“Really? Seems to think you belong to ‘em,” Aeryn noted as it tried to climb Thancred’s coat.

He shook the little creature off, one hand fishing in his pockets. “It’s been following me whilst here in Fanow--probably belongs to one of the hunters. Minfilia finds it amusing, at least. For gods--here!” He tossed a small red berry across the platform, watching the nutkin scamper after it.

“And you miss having one around, so go ahead and feed it regardless.”

“...I will not confirm such an accusation.”

“Sure, Waters. You take no joy in cuddling a small furry critter.”

“I could always pick up a rat instead.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“What’s the matter, Striker? The famed primal-slayer afraid of certain critters? Need to be kept safe from their nibbling?”

“Would you two please stop flirting?” Emet-Selch sighed dramatically. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

They both turned to glare at the Ascian. Aeryn wondered why some men--apparently including impossibly ancient ones--assumed all friendly banter was flirting. Then again...

“...No,” Aeryn said, turning her back on Emet-Selch. “Anyroad, Thancred, just mind it stays out of my pack this time, would you?” She asked sweetly.

“But how else am I--it--supposed to accidentally filch some of your personals and feign absolute innocence of the fact?” He responded, matching her tone.

“Ugh!” Emet-Selch walked off, rolling his eyes.

Thancred and Aeryn looked at each other and grinned. “That worked rather well,” Thancred said with a snicker.

Aeryn nodded. “We’ll have to keep that strategy in mind. But seriously: keep the nutkin out of my gear.”

“I make no promises, they have minds of their own, my lady.” He gave her a saucy wink before turning to call Minfilia and Urianger to get ready to go.

“Managed to chase off our unwelcome guest, have you?” Y’shtola asked.

“For now. He doesn’t like banter. Who knew, given his fondness for witty retorts.”

“I haven’t seen you two go back and forth like that in some time,” Y’shtola remarked, offering the canteen she had been drinking from to Aeryn.

“Well for you it’s been a few years,” Aeryn replied. She glanced at the canteen and shook her head. “You need that more than I, after your ordeal.”

“Ah, my mistake,” Y’shtola said, a dangerously amused tone to her voice. “I thought you seemed parched, but I suppose these aren’t the waters you’re thirsting for.”

It took a moment to sink in. “Y’shtola!” Aeryn hissed, feeling her face burn--and glancing around to make sure the others hadn’t heard.

Y’shtola giggled. Giggled. “Don’t think I have forgotten--and it was nice to see you two a bit more at ease around each other again.”

“You know, I hate admitting Emet-Selch’s right, but we do have a Lightwarden to hunt down,” Aeryn grumped.

Y’shtola patted her arm. “I shall not press, nor pry, though I cannot say the same for our comrades; ‘tis not the secret it once was, you know.”

This was really the reason they couldn’t let Y’shtola take anymore dips in the Lifestream; she was in far too high spirits, practically giddy. “I did maybe say something to Alisaie...”

“I had figured as much, honestly. But who do you think he confided in these last few years?” Y’shtola asked, head tilting toward where Thancred and Urianger were preparing their supplies for the journey to and through the Qitana Ravel. Thancred laughed at something Urianger said, and Aeryn felt the jolt of it from her flaming face down to her toes.

Minfilia and Runar were off to the side, playing with the nutkin, thank goodness.

Aeryn sighed heavily. “I can’t be surprised, either. And it...was nice, while it lasted.”

“Perhaps soon there shall be opportunity for an honest discussion as well as flirtatious banter,” Y’shtola said. “In the meantime, shall we finish our preparations?”

Aeryn nodded, not even bothering to try and correct Y’shtola with reminders that Aeryn did not, could not, intentionally flirt if the fate of the world depended on it.

She did have to admit though, it had been nice to have a silly conversation again--particularly with such satisfying results--with Thancred, especially after their last attempt at a conversation about...things...had not gone so well. She really hadn’t realized just how much she had missed it, and wondered if he had as well, especially with the time discrepancy.

Urianger called to her, but Aeryn only waved vaguely in response. She dared not turn their direction; her face still felt as if it were competing with the glaring skies above the canopy.

“...Hey, Y’shtola? I think I need that particular drink of water after all.”