#I guess she's half Elezen now

[eorzea80]

Pryne is kind of short, for the child of an Elezen. She is not above hauling her petticoats onto the sodden bartop so she can toast a favorite customer. [omg this took all day...and I still haven't done Thom's pose yet...I'm crying.] [the face looks funny because at the eleventh hour, the upper lip got majorly distorted and it took an extra half hour to fix. i will never get the hang of the The Face BonesTM]

[briar-ffxiv]

FFXIV Write #08 - Spontaneous

FFXIV Write 2024 Master Post

Prompt #8 - You Pick - Spontaneous

Note: This is how Briar ends up with some Silkie chickens!

Briar looked around, green eyes wide and fascinated. He couldn't stop turning his head, trying to see everything at once between the beautiful shops, bright colours, and general people flowing around the market stalls. Too busy staring, the half-Elezen didn't notice unevenness in the cobblestones and gasped as he tripped. Pain shot through his right leg where the deep claw marks on his thigh were still healing. For a moment, Briar teetered, trying to catch himself with one weak leg.

"Whoa! Easy!" Aeluan said, reaching out quickly to wrap a thick arm around Briar's slim waist, half-lifting the half-Elezen. "Steady now." After a long moment, he eased Briar back to his feet. "Are you all right?"

Briar turned bright pink and nodded, clearing his throat sheepishly. "Y-yes. S-sorry," he murmured, brushing his hair behind his ears. "I wasn't watching w-where--"

The Raen paladin gave a soothing chuckle, carefully patting Briar's back. "It's okay. New, huh?"

Briar nodded and looked around, ears working and eyes darting. "Yes. It's so..busy and bright." He instinctively moved a little closer to Aeluan as a pair of Roegadyn porters with heavy loads balanced on their shoulders. "I have no idea where to start."

Aeluan laughed and flashed Briar a bright smile. "Well…I guess we start at one end of the market and head toward the other. Let's go, but let me know if you get tired."

Briar nodded obediently, one slim hand clinging a little to Aeluan's loose sleeve for comfort as he followed the Raen forward. While he was careful to stay close as Aeluan had urged, he gradually relaxed into exploring with the other.

As the day passed, Briar got to see beautiful silks and lovely carvings. He got to try a bite of dango, fried treats that he didn't know the name of, and some fruits dipped in honey. They even paused for a few minutes at a shadow puppet show, which fascinated Briar who gasped and stared as much as the children also there.

It was afternoon and Briar was starting to feel tired, but shook his head when Aeluan asked if he was ready to go back. There wasn't much left of the market and he wanted to see it all. This end was mostly various fish and animals for sale. He watched fish with long elegant fins in small bowls and gasped at the sheer mass of huge koi as they lazily circled a large but shallow bowl. He patted a few sheep and cooed over a few young ponies before the sound of familiar peeping caught his attention.

"Oh! Chickens!" Briar said with delight, heading toward a stall that had several baskets and bamboo cages holding various birds, who clucked and peeped. Many of them were quite different from his chickens at home, which were smallish, sleek birds used to foraging and avoiding danger on their own. Some of the chickens were massive with fluffy legs who clucked and regarded him with interest. Some were long-legged and tight-feathered with flowing tails.

"They're so pretty," Briar said with awe, missing Aeluan's look of bemusement. Most probably wouldn't find a handful of chickens so fascinating. "Oh, what are those?"

The half-Elezen was caught by a basket of six or seven little chicks. At a glance, they weren't much different than normal chickens. Then Briar noticed their feathers were strange, almost like fur. With a glance to make sure the vendor didn't mind, he picked up one, admiring the silky soft fluff that didn't have the stiffness regular feathers did. Briar murmured in surprise, now seeing that the chickens had very dark legs and beaks. Even their skin was a deep ebony-black that was nearly blue. "How strange!" He looked up at the vendor, a smiling Hingan woman. "What are they?"

"Chickens!" she said in heavily accented Common.

Briar smiled and nodded. "Oh! Yes, but…what kind? Their feathers are so different."

"Oh!" she laughed and pointed. "Silkie! Silkie chicken!"

Briar hummed in thought and nodded. He could see why they had such a name. Compared to the feathers of other chickens, they were indeed silky soft. He stroked the one in his hands, admiring the soft grey feathers. The others were a mixture of colours: soft golds and creams, a brown one, and one that was pure black. "They're lovely," he said wistfully, gently setting the little chick down.

The little chicken wobbled a moment and then peeped, turning back toward Briar. It tried to get closer, peeping in protest at the basket being in the way. Likely it was just Briar's warm hands the little bird was missing, but the half-Elezen looked a little stricken, reaching for a moment to stroke the chick's back. "Sorry, little one. I have to leave."

Aeluan had watched Briar handling the bird curiously, enjoying his happy fascination and delight. Now, the redhead's ears were tipped down and he looked sadly at the little bird before starting to turn away. In a moment of spontaneity, Aeluan looked at the vendor. "How much?" He gestured toward the basket. "How much for those?"

The vendor smiled, naming a price even as Briar gave a noise of surprise. "Oh! Aeluan, you don't--"

The paladin waved a hand with a smile, paying over the price without complaint. It might have been a little high, but he had plenty of coin to his name. It was worth it to see Briar's ill-hidden joy. "Don't worry about it. We'll find somewhere for them to stay until you can get them home."

Briar could only make a noise of delight as the vendor checked the chicks and then covered the basket, pushing it into his hands. "Yours now," she said quite happily. "They are good chickens, nice chickens. They taste good and have nice eggs," she nodded. "Best chickens to me."

"I--O-oh.." Briar hugged the basket carefully against his chest. Inside, the chicks peeped and rustled, settling into the hay at the bottom. Briar just clutched them and looked up at Aeluan, eyes stinging a bit. "Thank you, Aeluan. They're beautiful."

Aeluan wouldn't have guessed a few chickens could make someone so happy, but Briar's smile gave no doubt that in this case, they very much did.

Aeluan belongs to @valdiis / @sword-and-surfboard

[flame-of-tar-valon]

End-of-Year Special 6: Buscarron's Scar

The small party trudged through a particularly muddy crevice. “Careful!” Sylphie called. “It’s just rained, you know!” Silvairre shushed her with a sharp wave of his hand, and, chastened, Sylphie fell silent once more.

“What can you tell me about Pawah Mujuuk, Leih?” Nia’a asked, keeping his voice low.

“Well, I… To tell the truth, I don’t know her, really.” Leih hung her head in shame. “After the Calamity, my family home was wiped out, and I ended up in Gridania. You’ve stayed around Buscarron’s for a while, surely you know more than I at this point.”

From several paces back, Silvairre cleared his throat pointedly. Nia’a looked back toward him and found him wearing the most insufferably condescending expression. “Truly times must be hard if neither of the two Miqo’te on our mission even know of our target.” Leih’s face twisted in hurt and anger, but Nia’a just sighed bitterly. What sort of lesson the Archer’s Guild hoped to impart by pairing the two up for missions was beyond him.

As for himself and Sylphie, Leih was still serving as Sylphie’s bodyguard, and Sylphie was due for her pilgrimage to the South Shroud, so at some point the two girls had agreed that it was best to wipe out two birds with the same stone. Nia’a wouldn’t have joined them if O-App-Pesi hadn’t dangled his leverage in front of him, but… in truth, Nia’a was starting to acclimate to the new status quo of being perpetually ordered about by the man. Even if he weren't Tree-Blessed, he seemed to have a knack for getting people to do what he wanted.

And, it seemed, today he wanted Nia’a to accompany Sylphie, Leih, and Silvairre on this mission into the South Shroud, to stop the K eeper of the Moon Pawah Majuuk.

“She is the most infamous poacher ever to walk the Twelveswood,” Silvairre explained, his Elezen features twisted into a sneer. “A born leader, deadly with the bow, she formed her own gang of Miqo'te hunters in the wake of the Calamity to take advantage of Gridania’s weakened forces. She has thrown the balance into disarray. She was apprehended once, and would have been brought to justice...had she not tricked a foolish young sentry into releasing her, before vanishing without a trace.”

[…]

“An’ what have we here?” Nia’a heard from behind him. He froze.

Pawah Mujuuk strolled into view, sizing him up with a glance. “Well, well. If it isn’t ol’ scaredy-cat himself. Thought you of all people would’ve had the brains — or the cowardice — not to step into my corner o’ the Twelveswood.”

Nia’a stayed frozen. She knew of him, at least. Hopefully she knew enough to not consider him a threat. He had to get out of this.

She walked up in front of him. Why had he knelt down to the ground to investigate the footprints?! He tilted his head back to look up at her, fear hammering in his chest.

“Ye know ye were the talk o’ the forest for a while. Not only are ye a half-breed with some bloody Sun-addled vagrant, but a runaway who don’t even have the stones to pick up a weapon? I s’pose it must be a relief fer yer mum, havin’ one less mouth t’ feed.”

Shame, loathing, disgust filled Nia’a to his core. “Yeah. Ye get it now, don’tcha. We’ve been watchin’ ye. Fer awhile now. Once upon a time we thought we could extend a job offer. One o’ my best hunters fell that day, right when you came up — the shame of the entire Tsara family — and ye had a prize bow sittin’ on the ground in arms’ reach. But no, ye couldn’t be one o’ us. I guess yer dear old mum never told ye: A hunter with no fangs ain't nothin' but prey.”

That had only been a few days ago. After five years of waiting around after the Calamity, Nia’a still couldn’t brave the depths of the Shroud. The monsters that lurked in the treeline wouldn’t have overlooked him just because he was an herbalist or botanist — a noncombatant. Like fate, a bow had been presented to him. A familiar bow, one carved in the traditional style of the Rootslake clans. Just looking at it had made him feel closer to home.

He had wanted desperately to find his father, but he had likewise known he was the worst person for the task. He had seen the bow and pictured himself, fierce and brave, loosing a volley on whatever fiends had torn his family apart years ago, his braided hair flowing behind him in the wind. He had pictured himself as if he was his eldest sister — the pride of the family — instead of… himself.

And when he had snapped back to reality, the thought of firing an arrow at another living being — coupled with the recognition that he would never be his family’s pride — had turned his stomach so violently that he had immediately dropped to his knees, ill. And Pawah had seen his shame.

“Now, the question is, what do I do with ye,” Pawah mused. “Like hells are ye capable of layin’ a finger on me. But I can’t just let ye flap yer tongue to the Wood Wailers that ye saw me here…” She smirked. “I s’pose we can cut out that tongue of yers t’ keep it from flappin’ and send ye on yer way.”

“No!” he yelled, voice cracking. “No, I’ll go with you! I may not be able to— to hunt, but I can tend your wounds or— or mix poisons for your arrows, or—”

Pawah squatted down to look Nia’a directly in the eye. “Ye know what I hate about ye? Granted, I don’t know ye very well, just through reputation, but ye’ve confirmed the worst o’ the worst fer me already.” She grabbed him by the collar and pulled his head closer to hers. “Ye don’t got a backbone. Ye don’t choose a side; ye stumble into one or th’ other. And when the goin’ gets tough, ye’ll sell anybody out t’ save yer own skin. That’s why I don’t buy into yer shitty ‘never hurt a fly’ preachin’. How many o’ yer tribesmen have ye killed by runnin’ away?”

She threw him back to the ground, and his head collided with a rock. He thought he heard the rock apologize for hurting him in its alien whispers. The ground was too noisy here, he could barely hear himself think, let alone figure out how to escape —

“Get away from him!” Leih yelled, and an arrow zipped past Pawah. A warning shot.

Pawah jumped. “Well, well. Seems ye should be grateful yer friends are more loyal t’ ye than ye are t’ them.” With one final wicked sneer in Nia’a’s direction, Pawah leapt into the air again, and was gone.

* * *

Yay! What a nice touching family reunion for our Twelveswood miqo'te!

This was a very recent scene. I've long known I want to do something with the combat guild quests for Gridania. They're such an insular society and they have such a complicated relationship with the Keepers of the Moon and the Duskwights —both of which are a uniquely Gridanian thing. Ul'dah has something similar-ish with its treatment of refugees, but Ala Mhigo gets its own geographical area and its own expansion.

I don't exactly know how everything is going to resolve, on a large scale, with the different groups around Gridania. But I was thinking about the parallels between the insular Gridanians and the insular Keepers of the Moon, and I think things are very difficult for Nia'a in exile.

Join me tomorrow as Vivimani completes a couple quests that he's 50 to 60 levels too weak for in canon. He cannot be stopped.

[dubiousduskwight]

Day 1: Steer

When he was a kid and things had been better, Rorogino’s mother had made a point of telling bedtime stories to he and his siblings in that fraction of years when they were young enough to demand and be enthralled by such moments. She never told them anything of Sharlayan origin; after the first few attempts, the attitude among the Papagino family was that stories should be about more than excelling at schoolwork and certainly shouldn’t require footnotes. Instead, they settled on the kind of insomnia-inducing Gridanian beditme story about clever boys and girls coming upon wildlings and witches in the woods. Though menaced by dark magics and a dangerous forest, quick wits let them bargain with their foes and good hearts let them get what they wanted while skirting the consequences and reach their happy ending.

At the time, he’d loved those stories. Twenty years, one expulsion, and two major changes in life circumstances later, and he was now of the opinion that the kids in those tales were a pack of worthless ingrates.

“You’re asking too much,” Emyr said. Rorogino wasn’t looking at him, focused on comparing the small cameo portrait he held in one hand and sketching out its likeness across canvas with a cheap piece of charcoal in the other, but he could hear the quiver in the man’s voice, and guessed that his hands trembled in his lap. It wasn’t fear in Emyr’s tone, he was certain of that.

“I’m asking exactly what I said I’d ask, what we agreed on, what you paid for.” He squinted at the cameo, taking in the details of a handsome-looking elezen, with strong ears, sharp nose, and a warm and friendly expression, even with a set mouth, that one didn’t often see in miniature. Granted, his chin was a bit on the absent side, but perhaps the artist had missed a detail somewhere. He was somebody that almost certainly wouldn’t be seen anywhere near Emyr’s scraggly ass in any other circumstance. “Do you want it or not?” “I do!” Emyr looked up from his hands in protest, trying to catch Rorogino’s gaze. “But I can’t even get close enough to converse, most days, just a few scant words, and he’s always got his staff, they’re watching – I don’t think I can get it, Gino, not this time.”

Heaving a heavy and deep sigh, Rorogino put his charcoal away, set the cameo where it would fit on the tiny stand that he kept near his canvas, and rubbed his broad forehead. He swivelled in his stool, which gave a loud squeak in protest, and looked up at Emyr, scrutinizing him with bright blue eyes. There wasn’t much worthwhile about the man except his net worth: His father had done well in copper speculation and landed them comfortably in the middle tier of the Monetarists, and Emyr was content to live on the family wealth and waste it to the best of his ability. His hands shook, his eyes were constantly bloodshot, his voice had a quality not unlike that of a frightened shrew, and his chin and cheeks seemed scarred from a disease in his youth. Fortunately, his personality was repellent to compensate. Rorogino had no doubt he would do well in an unhappy marriage in his distant future, and wished he could deal with that version of Emyr instead of this one.

Nevertheless, this was the version that had paid him half up-front, as prompted, and he would very much like to have the other half in his possession, thank you very much. Aetherially-conductive paints were expensive in the best of times.

“Tell me about his eyes.” The prompt made Emyr blink in surprise, his eyes shining and watery enough to drop a tear.

“What?”

“His eyes, tell me about them. The cameo’s too small,” He lied, “And all I can see are a couple of black dots.”

“Yes, well. They’re a sort of a brown, but not so dark as that. Leaning into amber.” As Emyr spoke, Rorogino watched the man’s hands where they lay in his lap, trembling. “They’re warm,” he said. “Like the rest of his face. And kind. When he told me ‘mind the stairs’ in the ballroom, it felt like my minding them was the only thing that mattered to him. And when he asked for a glass of water?” The trembling had stilled. “The way they squinted around the edges, little wrinkles in the skin like he is wiser than his age. I wish I could show you, Gino.” “Thanks, but I get the picture. I can work out the rest. Now.” Placing his hands on his knees, Gino kept looking straight ahead, only tilting his eyes upwards. “You want those eyes looking at you and nobody else? That’s what you want, right? That’s what you asked for when you came here. That still true?” “Yes,” There was that quiver in his voice again – not fear, but a desperation, that he might not be desired.

“Then get me his godsdamned eyelash. Pigment won’t make itself. And don’t come back until you do.” With another horrible squeak, Rorogino turned back to his canvas. Emyr could see himself out, and, seeing him rise from his chair out of the corner of his eye, was satisfied that he’d do so.

He picked up the cameo again, squinting at the expression in the elezen’s face. Emyr had certainly gotten the color right, but they didn’t seem so warm to Gino. Then again, he’d said the same thing about the last two commissions as well. He was always after warmth. One of these days, one of these men would actually have it.

“Ingrates,” he muttered to himself, thinking back to the old stories. They always got their boon from people like Gino with clever wits and good hearts. One of these days, he thought, he might get a patron with either quality.

[bozjabun]

"Keep your eyes on me/Just look at me"

More random prompts! Something smuttier this time. I've got a small backlog of these to work through still now that I'm not dead on my feet every day.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sound Rem made when his back hit the wall was all the encouragement Lissandra needed. It wasn’t a new sound to her, but the mixture of gasp and moan and exhale from the redheaded viera was a music Lissandra needed more of.

They’d been circling each other for some time now, as friends and comrades primarily. But Tural had brought them together in a new way, pulled them into a proximity neither had expected, anticipated, or been remotely prepared for. Both had found a comfortable niche in The Arcadion, crashing into fight after fight and showing every contender from Solution 9 just how fierce the fighters from the Source were. And, through the fights, the team-ups, the exploration of cities, and a great number of nights spent drunkenly wandering and chatting… they’d formed something new.

Currently, that new ‘something’ took the form of Lissa peeling off Rem’s shirt while he slid his pants down, his back pressed to the wall and Lissa pressed against him. It was a fumbling, frantic series of movements - they’d just finished a match and flirted intensely throughout the fight -and- on the way to the locker rooms. Rem had, playfully, teasingly, locked the door behind them. Lissa had, after a long moment’s consideration, called his bluff.

His shirt was tossed aside with little ceremony as his hands moved to pull her jacket off and add it to the heap, and all too late Lissa noticed that his eyepatch had gone with the shirt. She froze for only a moment before slamming her eyes shut, and putting a hand over the half of his face that the rough cloth patch always covered. She had never seen him without it and, as she knew from conversations with their shared paramours, neither had anyone else. Rem was always careful, always deliberate in keeping the eyepatch affixed firmly to his face in the company of others. Bathing, traveling, fucking - it didn’t matter.

Rem had stilled against Lissa, felt her palm against his face, watched her eyes close before they could catch any detail of the half his face he kept hidden. He couldn’t help but smile. He’d placed a hand her hip once he’d freed himself from the constraint of pants, intending to guide her closer and bring their hips together. Now, all that frenzy was gone. His hand moved in a slow, gentle caress up her side. His fingertips crossed her ribs, rounded her shoulder, ghosted down her arm, and came to rest on the hand covering his face. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to the Elezen woman’s ear, and murmured: “Open your eyes, Fix. You can look. I don’t mind.”

Only a moment’s hesitation passed before Lissa opened her eyes, both their hands still on his face. “Here,” he whispered in her ear again, and he leaned back against the wall and moved her hand.

Lissa had imagined what he looked like under the patch. They all had, privately or openly, guessed at what he kept hidden. He’d only ever said that he’d smashed his face on an ancient altar at the bottom of a temple - Rem did not offer many descriptions of what that had done to him. In truth? It wasn’t that bad.

Lissa had grown accustomed to the bright yellow eye he watched her with, but seeing it joined but a faint purple iris was jarring. Not unpleasant, she thought, her fingertips brushing against the small gemstones embedded around his eye and in his cheek. No wonder he kept the whole thing covered - his face both looked more complete this way and like something was missing. And certainly he’d be more prone to draw attention with these flashes of crystal or gem or… whatever they were, embedded as they were in his flesh. She thought it a terrible waste of a very attractive face and also horribly prudent.

She also decided, very quickly, that she was going to stare into those eyes until they were seared into her, and there was very little he could do to stop her. She pulled him from the wall and practically threw him onto a bench nearby. He couldn’t help but laugh as she straddled his hips, tugging aside the minimal fabric that made up her Arcadion costume. She leaned forward, placing one hand beside his head while the other took hold of his cock and, eyes locked on his, guided their hips firmly and completely together.

[thefinalwitness]

who remembers that not-an-au-ra, not-an-elezen, but-a-secret-third-thing oc? i ended up mashing her together with a couple other old oc concepts i don't really use anymore and she's Pink Now. *says this like it's the only thing that's different*

her name is yll rhei, and she's a dragonet whose eyes were stolen by an elezen man who hoped to use them to resurrect his young daughter. :) he gouged out his daughter's eyes and replaced them with yll rhei's, but guess which one came back! (she proceeded to kill the shit out of him.)

she's stuck as an ashkin now, but she's determined to live her (un)life. she has a glamoured form to make herself look like just ye average prepubescent elezen, because she QUICKLY discovered that if you LOOK like a dragon-worshipping, half-mutant heretic, ishgardians WILL hunt you for sport.

also i lied she Is actually an elezen now. kind of. technically.

[katalinhunter]

Humdrum

"So it started with a girl. I think."

"You think? Are you confused about the starting or the girl? is this someone you dreamed of?"

"No, this was the afternoon before. She was tall, dressed in one of those modern outfits that people are wearing nowadays. All rebellious and flaunting traditions and Twelve, she was so loud. Half-drunk or something and heading towards the Beds. The whole reason I was watching her was because she reminded me of my younger son."

"Okay..." Katalin prompted as she resumed eating. The urge to create her own topiary had passed and the food was okay if not great. The wine was decent. Also, she had a pretty good clue who the retired Adder was talking about.

"Anyroad there was this strangest sensation, just a flash of a headache. It didn't last and I only remember it because I was afraid of the migraines coming back. For a couple of years after Carteneau I kept getting these weird migraines. I checked with the healers but there was nothing to be done for them. Then one day they just faded away."

"Glad to hear that. The dream though?"

"Right, right. That night was when I first had the dream. There was a flash of light then I was up in the sky, like a bird. Swooping in like this:" Rodriant held out his arms as if gliding through the air with outstretched arms. It was a fair impression and the subtle smile on his face as he did so just made Katalin smile more broadly in return.

The Elezen continued. "I didn't recognize the land or the trees, nothing from the Shroud or anywhere nearby. I knew where it was though as if the name was written across the sky. Meracydia. Maybe I saw an illustration in a storybook once."

"Probably. Minds are weird." Especially hers after everything. "So you swooped in and saw me just standing there? Dancing a sailor's jig? Looking for a cliff to dive off of?"

"No, nothing like that. You were just there, looking up into the sky. Not at me but at the stars I guess or something else beyond my sight. There was this sense of something twisting around you."

"Was I screaming, struggling, twisting along with it?"

"No, nothing like that. You were just... accepting I guess. And the dream ended."

"Just ended?"

"Just ended. Nothing more and I wouldn't have thought any more of it. Like you said, minds are weird, especially after seeing so much over the years. But I have had the same dream twice more so I got curious. I was actually looking for that girl when I found a picture of you in some old records. Known associate of-"

Katalin cut him off with a hand wave. "All done, we're good now, was it a good picture?"

"Not really but the tattoo is distinctive."

"Ah well."

"So, that's pretty much it. I tracked you down from there then decided to see if you knew anything more. Do you?"

His story finished the man poked at his food finally, disassembling it then taking a bite. "Damn, it's gone cold."

[voidsentprinces]

Fray: FUCK ISHGARD Azem: ...a'ight. Fray: WAIT NO! Azem: Too late...all of Ishgard is now my polycule... Fray: All of it!? Azem: The Knight Commander, his lady knight, my dead husband's brothers AND HIS FATHER, the half-elezen gun wife and her gun totting wife from the Machinist Guild AND her partner the gun enthusiast nerd AND his sailor mentor, the manwhore from the Astrologian's Guild, the platonically supportive Leveva and the Eastern Geomancer she doesn't know she pulled, Sid and your adopted daughter are now part of my family, not to mention all the people I adopted or absorbed into this from just crafting and gathering. Like that eccentric fisherman or the bard. Really its too bad I killed the Heavens Ward, I could probably fix some of them boys. Fray: I highly doubt that. Azem: You're right...I'd make them worse. Anyway--So there, I fucked Ishgard. Fray: ......I GUESS! Next lets get in touch with the dark side of your soul. Azem: I DO enjoy a little snack now again. Fray: This is going to be a long day.

[keicordelle]

The Daily Inconveniences of an Au Ra: Scale Pattern

The Coerthan cold bit at Keshet's skin, but he was too stubborn and prideful to put back on the bulky coat Tataru made him wear to keep his tail from freezing off. The lalafell would surely skin his hide if she found him out here, stripped to the waist as he trained, but he was far too used to the freedom of movement granted to him by his usual attire to swing a sword as long as he was tall and half as heavy with his movements so constricted by a half dozen layers of furs and fabric. Besides, the exercise was good for him (even if it didn't keep him strictly warm), and the time spent in the company of another Au Ra was even better.

"Your scales are different than mine," Sigurgu observed from where he was warming up by the fire a half dozen fulms away.

Keshet glanced up in surprise, nearly cleaving off the end of his tail when he forgot to pull it out of the way of his swing. "What do you mean?" He couldn't exactly see most of Sidurgu's scales to compare, but he hadn't noticed anything about the other Au Ra that would lead him to believe he had some sort of scale abnormality... Then again, he supposed there probably weren't too many medics in Ishgard well versed in auri anatomy, so if he did have some kind of problem, he may not have known about it until now.

Fortunately, the truth was much simpler than that. "Their pattern. They don't cover the same areas that mine do."

"Oh. Of course not," Keshet responded easily, heaving his sword once more as he returned his attention to his training, his worries dismissed. "Every Au Ra's scales are unique. Like... birthmarks, I guess, on an Elezen." He paused, frowning. "You didn't know that?"

Sidurgu grimaced, tail lashing. "There aren't many Au Ra here to compare myself too. And once my parents were killed, there was no one to teach me such things."

"Oh." Keshet's motions slowed then halted as he considered that. What a horrible life that must have been, to lose your people so young that you never even learned about your own kind. Resolved, Keshet abandoned his training, driving his sword into the snow and making his way over to stand next to Sidurgu at the fire.

"Most Au Ra have scales covering the majority of their joints," he explained, tapping the dark patch over the back of his wrist. "The spine, too, is very common, though I know plenty of people without. The throat seems to be fairly universal, I don't think I've ever seen anyone with their throat fully exposed..." He tilted his head, considering for a moment, before giving it a decisive shake. "No, definitely not." Urianger would probably say something like that it was an evolutionary advantage for Au Ra to have their necks protected, but all Keshet knew was that it had saved his skin more than once and he was grateful.

"The rest tend to be variable," he continued, feeling rather like his scholarly friend for once, instead of the weary science experiment he was often reminded of when Alphinaud peppered him with questions. "Some have scales spread across their chests, like a breastplate." He traced a pattern over his bare skin, arching down from his throat and between his nipples down to the base of his sternum. Sidurgu nodded along in recognition, tail quirked behind him. "Others are protected over their sides or stomach, or lower, over their groin." He gestured to where the pointed edge of scales peaked out over the tops of his shorts, leaving Sidurgu to infer how much of his hidden skin was covered.

"They can come in in any number of patterns, from the winged points you see on me to the more delicate spiral shapes some women sport, to blocky, heavy sections and everything in between. And the pattern can change as you age. I'm sure you've noticed that your scales filled in more as you grew up. They'll continue to spread as the years pass. Eventually, the slivers of skin you can see on your neck" -Keshet paused, realizing for the first time that he had no idea how old Sidurgu was, and tilted his head to examine Sid's neck and ensure he did still have skin visible (he did)- "they'll vanish as the scales grow denser and spread across more of your body. You can guess an Au Ra's age reasonably well like that if you know what to look for, but everybody's different, so it's not foolproof."

Keshet drew himself up short, clamping his lips against the next bout of words that threatened to spill forth as he realized he'd crossed the line from helpful friend to brotherly mentor mode, well-honed from years of explaining to the younger children of the tribe. It's a miracle I've never slipped that far into lecturing in front of Alphinaud - though I bet he'd be thrilled. Never let me have another evening to myself though.

"Hm. I see," was all Sidurgu said when it was clear Keshet was finished, but the quirk to his tail belied his interest.

"Er, sorry for the lecture. You didn't exactly ask."

Sidurgu grunted noncommitally, and Keshet reached for his sword, content to return his attention to the actual purpose of their snowy sojourn and leave auri anatomy lessons for another day. It took him by surprise to hear Sigurgu say gruffly from behind him, "Thanks. I never thought much about this stuff when I was a kid, and then it was too late to learn."

"If ever you have any questions..." He left the offer unfinished, and Sid nodded to him. He returned it, and that easily, the bond of kinship was solidified. "Now come on, let's see just how well my scales hold up against your sword."

Read the rest of the series on Ao3!

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[laeorinel]

FFXIV Write 2023 - Day 14 - Clear

Minor Endwalker spoilers. Sort of continuation of this piece Once bitten, twice shy

You don't need to have read the other piece but it adds a little bit of context I guess.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thancred paced around the small inn room as Urianger tended to Samara, his jaw clenching and fingers digging into the leather of his coat every time he heard her cry out as the elezen tried to purge the remaining poison from her body. 

It was a wicked poison they could not easily remedy without knowing precisely what it was. Magical purification was their only option, but that came with the downside of being a more painful treatment. Whereas most assumed healing magics were always kind to the body, it could not be further from the truth when it came to poisons. Forcing aether into a body to purge a toxin from every ilm of tissue was neither pleasant for the practitioner nor the patient. 

After a torturous amount of time, the flow of Urianger's aether slowed, the treatment coming to an end. Samara lay twitching on the bed, faint whimpers and sounds of discomfort mingling with her shallow but even breathing. 

"I have done all I can. She must needs be watched for any signs of decline. Should the night pass without incident, she will be beyond the worst of it." With a weary sigh, Urianger sat down on the small stool by the bedside as Thancred made his way over. "'Tis fortunate you were so swift in your rescue. Had she been left to the mercy of the poison for much longer, I dare not consider the consequences." 

"Yet not swift enough to prevent this from happening to begin with. Clearly, there are some voids in my information network. There was nothing, not even a whisper, of any ill will towards Samara." he pulled out his water canteen, offering it to Urianger while he kept his gaze on the Auri woman.

"An attack of opportunity?" questioned Urianger as he accepted the canteen, greedily drinking the contents. 

"Perhaps..."

Finishing the canteen in one swift go, Urianger glanced up towards Thancred, already aware the elder Hyur was plotting something. "I can tell from thine countenance you wish to take action. I would counsel caution lest we be removed from the city before our friend is fully recovered." 

"Whoever is behind this will likely not give up on their prize. They will prevent us from leaving the city. Given there were Samurai with the group trying to capture her, I imagine the Sekiseigumi are already on the payroll of the person responsible."

"Then what does thou suggest?"

"The moment Samara can be moved, we take her to the Sharlayan embassy. It is the only place in Kugane she will be safe. Not even the most arrogant Hingan Lords would dare cause a diplomatic incident. Once she is there...I will take care of the problem." 

"Thou realises the protection afforded by the embassy does not allow us to conduct ourselves as we please. Should thou be caught-"

"Caught? Me? Come now, Urianger."

"I am being most serious, Thancred. Scion or not, we cannot act with impunity." 

"I know, and under normal circumstances, I would not elect myself to be judge, jury and, if needs be, executioner. But there is a present and clear threat that must needs be dealt with. If they are targeting Samara, it is entirely possible they will target any or all of us."

"And were anyone else the victim, I would believe thine words were born purely out of concern and pragmatism, yet we both know that is a half-truth at best. Retribution is unbecoming of you."

Thancred sighed, pulling the sleeves of his white coat free from his gloves before taking it off and laying it over Samara, the faintest smile tugging at his lips as the Auri woman curled up beneath it. 

He ran his fingers gently through her tangled mess of hair both to soothe her as well as himself. "It has nothing to do with revenge. I-...we have come so close to losing her so many times, and each time, there was nothing I could do." 

"When she returned to us on the Ragnarok, her body broken and bleeding with only the faintest flicker of life...I could only watch, wait and pray to every God in creation. I was useless. Powerless. But here...? I can do something here, Urianger. I can protect her." 

"Even if thine act of devotion ends with thou stained in blood and shackled in a cell? 

"It would not be the first time..."

Thancred moved away from the bed and over towards his travel bag, pulling out a long red scarf that would easily hide his face among the crowds of Kugane. 

"I've failed too many people, Urianger. I've failed her too many times. I will not fail her again."

Thancred then collected a pair of daggers from his bag, ones he had not used in ages but still carried out of habit. No further words were spoken between the men; a silent agreement had been made as Thancred left Samara lightly dozing under his white coat, safe in Urianger's care. For once, he stepped out into the shadows dressed almost entirely in black, the red scarf the only shade of colour to be seen and not a shred of white present. 

[kannedia]

Adventurin's a risky business

What drew you to it?

Points in the journey between Satasha, Tam Tara, and Copperbell.

Written for FFXIV Swap.

"For Glory!"

"Honor!"

"And the many songs of Bards!"

Daca'li watched as the trio made a toast with one brow raised. The words seemed familiar to them. Almost as though they had said them before. He half imagined they said such at nearly every bar.

Dolorous Bear was grinning in his mug as he drank and was still grinning as he turned to face Daca'li. "You do not wish to join our toast, sir?"

"It's Daca'li." Daca'li corrected quickly, he hoped that his armor successfully hid the flush climbing up his neck. "You can just call me Daca'li"

The other two were smiling at him. For what reason, Daca'li couldn't be sure.

"I'm E'manafa." She was half done with her drink. A feat that would have been more impressive were he not to know the quality of ale they could afford.

"You may call me Kikina," She was working on her drink small sip by small sip. Which was good for her sobriety, Daca'li guessed, but not quite helpful when it came to the taste.

"And I," Their leader put his cup down carefully yet sturdily before proclaiming. "am Dolorous Bear. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Kikina and E'manafa agreed heartily with him at this.

"I think we would all like to thank you for joining us for drinks too," E'manafa added before taking another drink.

"Now let us have another toast." Dolorous Bear chimed in, raising his own near-empty glass.

Daca'li smiled half-heartedly, nodded, and joined the group in the new toast. This one was much more quiet. Which was for the best as Daca'li had noticed Baderon sparing them occasional glances. Perhaps the volume wasn't welcome.

---

Edda was barely touching her tea. Which, he supposed, was understandable given the circumstances.

Daca'li wasn't sure why he had invited her. He couldn't say he knew the young woman. They had never spoken before. Though he had overheard her being yelled at by her friends outside Satasha.

An uncomfortable memory given what had happened to the group. And perhaps why he couldn't bring himself to leave the young woman alone. If nothing else, he hoped some tea and a listening ear would help her.

Daca'li took a drink from his own cup before he spoke up, voice gentle. "Do you have any plans for where you'll go next?"

She blinked owlishly at him, seemingly startled by the sound of his voice.

"I... I'm not sure. I was thinking of going back home and restarting my training." Edda answered after a moment of thought.

Daca'li leaned back in his chair as he listened to her continue to speak. Her words were slow but steady. They were mostly of Avere, the lad who had been yelling at her and apparently, her intended. The two apparently had many plans for their future together. Or at least she did. And they all involved seeing the world together as adventurers.

He didn't know quite what to say to any of it. He couldn't exactly share his opinions of Avere. That would not be helpful. At all. Nor would more condolences, though he doubted she received any from her teammates.

He tried to think of what he would say to one of his nieces in such a situation. Only to promptly wish to any divinity that was listening that they would never have to.

Daca'li held back a sigh. He felt he really should help the lass. If not as a fellow adventurer then as one of her elders of sorts.

"Edda," He started once she had finished speaking. "If there is something I can do to help, please let me know."

----

"Well, Daca'li. Do you think you'll be taking them up on that offer?"

Daca'li paused looking from the older elezen Isildaure to his grandaughter Alianne and then back again. Isildaure seemed to be genuinely curious about the whole thing. For a mercy, it sounded like a rather supportive curiosity.

If Alianne shared her grandfather's interest, she wasn't sharing it. Instead, she seemed to be stuck on whether or not she should make some displeasure with his bluntness obvious.

Daca'li really should have seen this coming, or so he was telling himself, when he mentioned that he was offered an interview for a group. He had not told them the name.

Or even a little further back when he ran into them at the Quicksand. He had just been leaving after asking Momodi about the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. They were entering to speak to Momodi for their own reasons. There was an invite for drinks and talk. It seemed like a good idea at the time to agree.

If he were honest with the two of them and himself, he would say he wasn't entirely sure. This was the first time he had even heard about the group. Momodi said they were to be trusted. That their goals were honorable ones. And there was the chance that they could help him with his sudden headaches and the visions that came with them.

"I think I'll wait until I've met the rest of them before I've made that decision." He answered, earning an approving look from both Alianne and Isildaure.

"Good, good." Isildaure smiled at him, "I was worried that what had happened had soured your taste for adventure. It's good to see that this generation is so resilient."

Daca'li returned his smile and did his best to not lend voice to the feeling that a similar conversation was had with Alianne.

"Do you two have any plans for where you'll go from here?" He asked instead.

Isildaure deflated slightly at the question. Daca'li had a feeling he knew why.

Alianne put a hand on her grandfather's shoulder. "We're not sure at the moment. Probably a short break. Perhaps we'll be able to travel together in the future."

Daca'li considered the idea for a moment. "That sounds good. I hope we can."

"To the future?" Isildaure offered, picking up his tea cup.

"To the future."

"To the future."

For the sake of Momodi and themselves, they did not clink their cups together.

[shivasdarknight]

oh i've got a few of those! lemme just throw this under the cut

one good example for this is Lillith!

(he/him only, but v much so not a man)

So Lillith is mixed, specifically a hyurezen with a Sharlayan elezen father and an Ala Mhigan mother. He takes way more after his mom and keeps that haircut because he's got slightly pointed ears and he's frankly sick of how Eorzea treats kids like him and his brother, Bertrand. It wasn't an issue in the New Sharlayan colony, but is an issue now in Gridania, specifically because he's half Ala Mhigan. Obviously the goal for having stuff like that is to address it because he and Seraphin (a Duskwight raised by Ala Mhigan refugees) are two of the strongest advocates for the nation I've got and put in the work to deal with those prejudices. This one is just a petty thing because you can't make mixed kids very well, but also hooked noses for afab highlanders is impossible and I'm fucking tired.

then there's these two:

Iolaine and Ammut are Allagan elezen, so they're both over 10ft tall (Iollie is 10'2", Ammut was 12' even). They're both of the empire, worked together against it, but Iolaine was the one to walk out of it alive and very immortal. She's since become the reason for the maintained presence of Odin, while Ammut reincarnated into Surkie. Iolaine is only partly possible in CC? Like, for her it's mostly her height that I need to mess with + her hair and other stuff, but Ammut has his height, skintone, scar, and so much other shit it's exhausting.

Then there's Macchi

He was a Mithra, so way furrier than this + 6'3". Lot of stuff I'm trying to piece together, but he's basically a halfway point between Hrothgar and Miqo'te. He also drank Tiamat's blood, so he had access to a draconic form. He was executed alongside Ammut and reincarnated into Ysayle. Macchi's way worse than the others present as I can't even get his appearance through mods. Sure, he's humanoid but his nose isn't right (hooked, flat at the bridge's junction with his forehead) and he's supposed to have a thin layer of fur? And stripes? His height, hair, tail, claws, arm hair, snoot marking, and eyes are all mods and it's still not enough!!

Saoirse's worse, though.

This is just me giving up because she's so frustrating + there aren't good mods for properly monstrous characters (i know about longerrpigs, she's wearing so much of their stuff and relies on their mods + ive gotta play around more). Saoirse when she was still a mortal? Easy, nbd. But how she is now? I'm using...dozens of mounts turned pitch black + vague approximations that aren't anywhere near as monstrous as I wish they were. She's the voidsent known as the Morrigna, who has a fluid form but often draconic that...doesn't really exist in game. I guess the closest would be one of those spirit dragons from Ultima Thule, but it's still not right. Gposes with her are just constant approximations and dozens of mods and it's not even accurate in the end!!!!

yeah anyways she's a big scary voidsent that's on the hunt for her assumed-dead girlfriend because she's chasing her loved ones from the Thirteenth around in hopes of taking their power so that no other can lay claim to it first. she was once known as Saoirse Ó Dubhshláine, but hasn't heard any of those names in eons. Her powers are beyond crazy and she commands a massive army, with her three most prominent allies being The Morrignae: Badb, Nemain, and Macha. She is the Thirteenth Shard of my main wol, Surkukteni. The other au ra (lamia, actually) is Philomène Sonrel, the Fourth Shard of Ysayle - as Cylva is the Thirteenth Shard, The Morrigna was naturally drawn to Philomène.

Melisande's deceptive, but she's still on here

While her mods are fairly minimal (recent eye mod to make the crystal eye glow), there's a facet of her that I'm struggling to replicate in game. Melisande is the first example of a Great Wyrm reincarnating, as she bears the soul of Ratatoskr unknowingly. All she knows is that the dragon's blood she took barely did shit to her at first, only to discover that its effects were unusually subtle. Increased strength and aether capabilities, as well as a way to shift into a draconic form that is not in the game. The closest would be a dragon like Vishap, but that's still not how she looks. She does not turn into one of the heretical forms and never has + has partial transformations that she slips into combat. None of that is possible in game so here we fucking are.

This guy, I can't even get in game.

Diarmuid Ua Duibhne is another voidsent and is one of the Morrigna's targets. He used to be known as the seelie adventurer, Donovich Ó Conghalaigh, and was the older brother to "Silbhé", or the original name of Cylva (pronounced the exact same way too). Like the Morrigna, he's a ridiculously old Voidsent that remembers how the Thirteenth used to be. Unlike the Morrigna, he wants nothing to do with the territory wars and has secluded himself deep within the Void. He's still managed to become one of the nastiest voidsent that could likely come close to rivaling the Archfiends. The gold tail does nothing; the red tail inflicts wounds that will never heal. His face constantly looks like melting bone, with hollow eye sockets that sometimes flash an electric blue. He's the Voidsent that was used to kill Ammut, and three thousand years later he's summoned by Ammut's reincarnation, Surkukteni. Presently, he's stuck on the Source since he willingly fused part way with Surkukteni to save her life. But that means he's now all the more vulnerable to the Morrigna, who has similarly found a way to slip onto the Source.

Even if I can't have him in game, I do have how he used to look. Top is how he genuinely was; bottom is how he remembers being and can shift to when chilling.

And yeah, this is Estinien's shard on the Thirteenth.

My mood is down, so:

FFXIV tumblr, show me/ tell me about your characters who do not fit neatly into the in-game playable races! Any character whose race is not simply "an Elezen" or "a Hyur", etc.

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

Free Write #1:  Invitation

Astrid pressed her lips together to keep from chuckling.  And made a mental note to surprise Roderick and Emma with a nice present when they returned from their vacation.  She could not have asked for a better situation to flummox her current guest.

“My lady.”  Helena offered the tea-tray, and Astrid took it with both hands.  Nothing but the best china and leaves for Fourchenault Leveilleur, the Forum’s newest darling.

“My thanks, Helena.”  Astrid paused at the worried expression on her maid’s face.  “What is it?”

“Are you sure it was safe leaving him alone in a room with Kari?”  Helena ventured.  “The little mistress is still so very ornery.”  Now Astrid had to work even harder to not laugh, remembering the wary side-eye the elezen had been giving her granddaughter.  Dear Kari was ever so grumpy when she woke up from a nap, and currently Fourchenault was being treated to the very best suspicious stares that the six-month old could offer. 

“If he could win the Forum over with...and this is a personal opinion-unfortunately flawed reasoning for us leaving Eorzea, but cannot handle being in the same room with a very cantankerous infant, then that’s just a personal problem that will bite him in the arse in the long run.”  She said.  “Besides.  I suspect Ameliance is launching her own campaign to get that man used to the idea of children.”

---------

He was beginning to see why Astrid DeGlass was considered dangerous by some of her peers.  It was impossible to know what she was thinking, let alone guess at her next move.  But to have her support meant one possessed an invaluable ally.  And despite his...personal grievances, Roderick DeGlass had made passionate and ironclad arguments for Sharlayan to remain as it was.  It was only logical then, to offer an olive branch. 

And so Fourchenault had been invited to the DeGlass manor for tea.  While not as large and as grand as the Leveilleur home, it was elegant.  The hyuran family had made their money in tradecraft, and Astrid’s tastes in fashion and antiques was well-known.  Fourchenault had felt in his element.  When he’d been admitted into the parlor, he’d been prepared and ready...

But he had not been prepared to see Astrid laughing and cooing over a small hyuran baby, especially as he’d seen her brutally and ruthlessly destroy a proposal on the Rostra’s floor the day before.  Nor had he expected the parlor to be overrun with toys and other bright things pleasing and safe for the child.  It brought back memories that were now painful, of playing in his father’s study while Louisoix was deep in research.  Playtime would always end with Forchenault either on his father’s lap or peering over his shoulder at what Louisoix was working on, the older elezen patiently answering all his questions.

And he definitely had not anticipated Astrid asking him ever so sweetly ‘would you kindly just keep an eye on Kari’ while she went to get the tea-things?  It wasn’t that Forchenault didn’t like children.  They were just...very small.  Breakable.  Hard to please.  Unpredictable.  Breakable.  He halfway expected to turn around to find his dear Ameliance laughing at the situation.  But before he could protest, Astrid had hurried away with a ‘thank you!’, and Forchenault found himself all alone. 

In the parlor.  With the small baby--holding court on the sofa, nestled inbetween mounds of plush toys--glaring at him.  Forchenault glanced over-yes, Kari had not let up.

“...You are aware that expression is entirely too old for you.”  He said into the silence.  Thaliak, he’d seen that same look on both Astrid and Roderick’s faces, and it was unsettling to see it replicated on an infant that was half a year out of the womb.  In response, Kari wriggled even more into the comfort of her plush throne, narrowing her eyes until they were practically slits.  Forchenault could feel the silent judgement in the air.

“Do you know they’re still talking about you and your mother between the Studium and Noumenon?”  Why he felt the need to fill the silence with conversation, Forchenault did not understand.  Perhaps it was self-preservation.  Or the possibility that his small host could understand his words.  Six moons prior, Emma DeGlass had walked into Noumenon, one week overdue from her labor date, wanting to borrow a book.  She’d gone to the fiction section, selected a novel and started to page through it.  Then she’d dropped the book with a ear-splitting scream, clutching at her belly.  There had been no time to take her to the healing-halls, no time to call for help.  Kari’s birth had been on a floor of Noumenon, her first cries breaking the library’s hallowed silence policy.  Forchenault remembered the page that had hurried into the Forum’s meeting on that day, whispering to Astrid--and watching the older woman bolt from her seat towards the nearest exit. 

“You know, it would have been good manners for you to wait until your mother was in the hands of proper medical professionals.  Or perhaps have arrived at your actual due date.  A rapid labor is very dangerous for both mother and child.”  That earned him tiny grumblings.  Before Forchenault gave into the urge to reply, Astrid reappeared with the tea-tray--and a bottle.  Immediately Kari’s attention latched onto her incoming meal, and Forchenault was all too grateful to turn his focus on more grown-up affairs.

Or he tried to.  Because even while gripping a bottle, the baby was still capable of giving him absolutely dirty looks.

----------

(a thank you to @erickgage​ for helping me sound out some things!)

[sezja]

Green Recruit

Important Note: I always write Sanson Smyth as a trans man, and this fic, set when he's 15 years old, takes place before he realized he was a man.

Ywain, guildmaster of Gridania’s lancers’ guild, is not an imposing man - calm and not easily ruffled, steady both in stature and in nature. Nevertheless, the girl is daunted, fighting the urge to retreat back to the safe haven of home. If Ywain can sense it, he hides it well; he fixes the hopeful young visitor with a considering gaze, and whatever might be going on behind those steely eyes of his, no one can guess… save perhaps for the smiling Wildwood man beside him, though he betrays nothing, either.

She’s out of her depth here, standing just a short distance away from the sparring lancers that occupy the training floor. The guild is quiet this morning, only a handful of other novices - some of them her age, all of them half again as strong as she is. The girl knows what Ywain sees: she’s tall for a midlander who has only just scraped into her fifteenth year, but scrawny and gawky with it, from a sheltered life spent poring over books and notes. Never so much as laid a hand on a weapon, let alone trained with one; her hands are soft, and they’ll blister terribly after a bell or two of holding a lance. Still, she tries to stand tall and proud, as best she can, determined.

Whatever it takes.

Foolish though it feels to try to join a guild, any guild, on the strength of a storybook, for moons now, she has been unable to think of anything else. The tale of a wandering minstrel… and her pike-wielding bodyguard, strong and faithful, following her wheresoever she may go, defending her from all dangers, that her song may ring true. The minstrel’s beauty and grace make the girl’s sisters sigh in delight… but it is the bodyguard who pulls at her. Something in his strength, his steadfast discipline, his resolve in the face of his foes - it calls to her, stirs something, a deep longing.

I want to be that. Even if only for a while, I want to be that!

“You have no prior training,” Ywain says. It is not a question, but an evaluation.

She flushes. “No, sir, but-”

“Are you not one of Sandre’s daughters? The bard?” The man at Ywain’s side speaks - a tall, sandy-haired Elezen, not of the guild, but bearing a lance on his back regardless. She does not recognize him, but perhaps that oughtn’t come as a surprise: nearly everyone seems to know her father. Or did, before retirement sent him into hiding, shortly after she and her two sisters were born. “How fares your father?”

“I-” She blinks. “H-he’s well, but I-”

“I’d have expected the archers’ guild.” The man’s eyes are friendly, his tone mild. Still, she feels unsteady under his gaze, uncertain. “What brings the daughter of a bard to the lancers?”

Oh, to have a lie prepared! She tries to come up with one on the spot, and fails, her thoughts already too scrambled to obfuscate the truth at a moment’s notice. Mortified, she nonetheless manages to meet the Elezen man’s eyes, head held high. “A tale, sir. A story I read.”

He laughs, as she knew he would, but there is no mockery in it. “A bard’s child indeed!”

“A story,” Ywain repeats, dubious. “Indeed. Perhaps you would be better served by observing, rather than training-”

“No,” she interrupts, urgent. Heart in her throat. No, watching isn’t enough - she has crept to the edges of Gridania’s gates since reading the story the first time, to watch the Wailers fend off wildlife that draws too near. She has watched them sparring outside the guild, hiding near the markets for the best view. How her sisters tease! They think her infatuated with the handsome young spearmen, or perhaps that she’s taken some fancy to a specific Wailer - they don’t understand that it’s the skill she craves, the strength. The competence.

If watching were enough, she’d be long since sated. But the need grows stronger instead, and any more of this will find her attempting to replicate a lancer’s attacks with a broomstick, and then she will begin breaking furniture in her clumsy efforts.

No. No, observing isn’t enough.

“No, sir, I-” She clears her throat. “Please, sir, all I ask is a chance.”

The Elezen says, “She’s spirited. Have you not been lamenting just this very morning the lack of enthusiasm among your recruits?”

“So I have.” Ywain’s appraising look is less doubtful now, and hope stirs. “I can’t treat you any differently than a normal recruit,” he warns. “Drawn here by a story or no, once you’ve joined the guild, you will be a recruit like any other. I cannot afford to be lax on others’ training for your sake.”

“No, sir,” she says, heart soaring. “Please! You’ll not have cause to regret it, I swear!”

“So you do mean to recruit her, then?” The Elezen man smiles, nodding his approval. “Excellent.”

“The greenest recruit I’ve taken on in some time.”

“Certainly, green as summer grass,” the man says, not unkindly. “I’ll administer her first lesson myself.”

“Vorsaile?” Ywain sounds surprised, blinking. “You’re certain?”

The man - Vorsaile? - nods, stepping forward. “She has a great deal of catching up to do before she’s ready even for the earliest of novice lessons,” he explains, still smiling. “Come, then,” he says to her, gesturing for her to follow him to the training floor. “What shall we call you, miss?”

“Ch-” A whim stops her; she’s never cared for her name. She could be anyone here, after all. She could set aside everything she is: the scholar, the quiet sibling. “Sanson,” she says instead, accepting the training spear. Light as it is, it’s heavier than she expected, and foreign in her hands. It fits, as the name fits: new, but right. “My name is Sanson Smyth. After… after my father.”

Curiosity plays in Vorsaile’s kind eyes; he knew which of the sisters she was before he asked, then, and knows he’s been given a false name. What he makes of it, she does not ask, and he does not speak of it. “Sanson, then. We will begin with your stance. A spear requires balance…”

She listens, she follows. Clumsy and halting and awkward as she is, still there is no denying the elation in her heart: this is right. This is right. For the first time in her life, this is right.

[potassium-pilot]

Prompt 24: Illustrious

“Is it done, Alphinaud?” Dia pestered excitedly.

“No, it is not.”

She waited for approximately five seconds before asking again, “How about now?”

“Do you really want me to rush through this?”

“You’re the Artist Alphinaud, I am your assistant; what else can I do if not make sure you finish?”

“Will you ever let go of that?”

“Never.”

Alphinaud sighed defeatedly and continued his drawing. He was commissioned to create a current portrait of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn to hang in the Solar. To their relief, he had everyone’s figures wrote to memory and therefore, did not require them to pose. That in mind, Dia couldn’t help but be a shadow to the boy, watching his artistry at work. The Warrior of Light was many things; an artist, she was not. It seemed the act of using a paintbrush did not come with the same ease as using a sewing needle, or a cooking utensil.

In the middle stood what he believed looked like himself holding a carbuncle while Alisaie stood on his right side at roughly the same height with her rapier held out in front of her. Dia towered behind him carrying Tataru on her shoulders (at her behest) with Thancred on her left with his arms crossed, Y’shtola on her right with a cane being wielded, Urianger on Thancred’s left with a book in hand, G’raha between Alphinaud and Alisaie with a big grin on his face, and Krile in front of Y’shtola to the left of Alphinaud leaning up against him.

“All right, I’m not done, but what do you think so far, Dia?” She scrambled from the Solar door to the desk to look it over with enthusiasm. “Ahh, I love it so far! Why’d you make yourself so short though?”

“What do you mean?”

“Alphinaud, you’re not that small. You almost made yourself into a lalafell compared to me.”

“It feels accurate to me…after all, ‘tis no secret I’m of a smaller stature in comparison to many of you.”

“Smaller stature, sure, but you’re not miniature. Give yourself more credit.” He shook his head before she inquired, “And where’s Estinien?”

“Oh…”

“What?”

“He…told me not to draw him…”

If her eyes could turn red in fury like Nidhogg, they would have in that very moment. “Give me but a moment, Alphinaud…” she told him quietly. She turned away from the smaller elezen and exited out the door in a seemingly calm manner, concealing her fury.

*********

Estinien, Thancred, and Urianger enjoyed a cup of coffee in the lobby.

“So you sort of just…wait for an assignment?” Estinien confirmed. The other two nodded. “Frankly, it’s been a bit more trouble to have the patience recently, particularly since our last assignment wasn’t exactly taken by choice”, Thancred stated.

“Indeed. Though we only aged some few moons in the Source, our souls hath lived on for years in the First, and kept us all plenty occupied, particularly when our friend finally arrived”, Urianger affirmed. Estinien made a hum. “What did you do while waiting before?”

“Oh”, Thancred began nervously, “Nothing too unusual. We just took our rest, did something leisurely, enjoyed ourselves whilst we waited.”

“Is that what thou calleth courting several maidens at once?”

Thancred scowled at Urianger while Estinien made a slight smile at the remark. Suddenly, Thancred and Urianger made horrified faces and scattered from their positions, abandoning Estinien to his fate: a furious Warrior of Light, wearing a look she wore when she killed gods.

“Do you want to explain your thought process here?” Dia confronted him.

“You’re under the assumption that I care to explain anything.”

“Look, I get you that you like to work alone; frankly, it’s understandable in a way. Twelve knows half the work I do needs to be done alone, lest anyone without the Echo be tempered, but I have news for you: you are not alone anymore!”

He growled, “I still don’t know what you’re talking about.” She placed her face in her palm, then explained annoyedly, “The portrait, Estinien.”

“By the Fury, you’re angry with me about that?”

“Yes, yes I am.”

“It’s a bleeding portrait. What does it matter?”

“It matters, Estinien! It matters a lot to me, to Alphinaud, to quite a few of us.”

His face betrayed his befuddlement. Not having been a Scion for very long, her irritation seemed misplaced.

“That portrait’s not my place”, he attempted to explain, “And quite frankly, I don’t understand why you all so desperately want this portrait in the first place.”

“We want to commemorate our little family.”

“This isn’t my family. It never was.”

“Never?” she repeated incredulously.

He raised an eyebrow at her tone.

“Estinien, Alphinaud fought for you after your possession by Nidhogg. I fought for you. When everyone seemed intent on killing you, even yourself, we did everything we could to keep you alive. We even entreated Hraesvelgr to help us save you when Aymeric seemed content with just stopping Nidhogg at any cost. Then you go and follow us through Gyr Abania, to the point where you even pushed back an Ascian in the body of Zenos yae Galvus, and pulled my comatose body out of a battlefield and back to the front. And on top of that, you helped take out Black Rose facilities for us while the rest of us were off in another world. You mean to tell me that meant nothing?!”

Estinien blinked.

“Guess what, dragon boy? You were a Scion before you even offered your lance!”

He looked away to the floor, pondering her words, irritated by the nickname.

“Don’t call me ‘dragon boy’…” he snapped.

“That’s what you’re taking from this?”

He remained silent, still thinking through. What in hells had he done? What did he get himself into? He let out a frustrated breath and walked away. She watched him get away from her in disbelief, and followed him as he aimed for the Solar.

Estinien opened the door and called, “Alphinaud?”

The young elezen looked up and away from his efforts. “Yes, Estinien?” The dragoon hesitated, then begrudgingly ordered, “…put me in your damn portrait.”

Dia flashed a huge grin, and Alphinaud’s eyes lit up in excitement. “I’ll do just that! Thankfully, I was still sketching, so I can find a way to add you.”

“Hm…good, I guess.” He closed the door behind him and glared at Dia, still chipper from his agreement. “You’re a pain in my side, Dia Sito.”

“You have to be to do what I do. Thank you, Estinien. He’s a great artist; he’ll do you justice.” He shook his head and stomped off while Dia hurried back inside the Solar.

*********

A bell had passed since Estinien agreed to be in the portrait. Making sure he wasn’t followed, he quietly slipped into the Solar where Alphinaud continued his work unabated. He sat down in front of the young artist and bade him, “How goes the portrait?”

“Quite well, all things considered. I did have to remake the idea a bit, but overall, I’m quite pleased with how it turned out.”

“I see.” The dragoon shuffled in his chair for a moment, unsure how to phrase his next question. “Alphinaud…you are doing this of your own free will, correct?” He brought his attention from his work to the question brought before him. “Of course I am”, he answered incredulously.

“You’re sure, Alphinaud?”

“I am. Why do you ask?”

“I want to make sure this is something that you truly wish to do. Dia has a tendency to be a bit dramatic as I’ve recently learned.”

“Fear not, Estinien. I’m under no influence but mine own.”

Estinien let out a long breath and asked, “I know her reasons, but what of yours? What does obsessing over a painting get you?”

Alphinaud smiled at him. “I get a chance to relax.”

“Really?”

“I do. The past few times I’ve drawn, ‘twas out of necessity in order to locate our missing comrades or to gain entry into forbidden cities. This isn’t like that at all. Despite our friend’s being a bit more enthusiastic than I’m used to, I feel no pressure.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself at the very least, Alphinaud. But is that the only reason why?”

Alphinaud brought his gaze back to the portrait. In particular, he focused on the outlines of two people; Dia and Estinien.

“When I lost command of the Crystal Braves…when I heard that everyone I knew had been lost to that bloody banquet, all I felt was hopelessness. I felt stuck in a dark abyss, where nothing could see me nor pull me from it’s shackles. That’s what I earned for dehumanizing those who would help me, for seeing them all as pawns in my game to unite Eorzea.

Then Dia pulled me out of it. So did Tataru and Haurchefant.

Despite everything I ever thought of her, despite the way I would send her out as though she were my trusty god-slayer from my toolbelt, she stood with me, and helped me find a new home. Had she not saved Haurchefant’s friend from the Inquisition, and slayed Shiva, and the dragon that threatened the gates of Ishgard, we would not have found refuge within it’s walls.

After everything that came of our tenure in Ishgard, the Scions became something different. Especially now that my blood family has forsaken me, the bonds I’ve formed with my comrades became a great source of comfort to me. Everyone has their reasons for why the Scions are their home. If we wish to commemorate that with a painting, I see no reason not to oblige.”

Estinien didn’t usually pry into this sort of business; that was Aymeric’s domain. Yet, he did find himself in a better understanding of Alphinaud after that. He met the boy when he was still so immature, inexperienced in many things that were obvious to him growing up with Ser Alberic. It was interesting to hear how he changed, and what he missed.

“So this truly is more than just Dia’s will being imposed on others, then.”

“Dia’s not wont to impose her will onto others. She merely expressed a wish that the rest of the Scions shared, myself included.” Alphinaud raised an eyebrow. “Now that I think of it…I’m not entirely sure what her will is on a normal day. What does she want?”

“I have no idea. Perhaps it’s best for that to remain her business, hm?”

“When this is all over, and the Final Days are halted, I mean to express my sincere gratitude to her in any way I can.”

“Heh. Good luck with that”, Estinien commented as he rose from his chair. “Well, I won’t pry from your work any longer. Keep at it, Alphinaud.”

“I will, Estinien, thank you.”

The dragoon turned away and left through the door to the Solar. Alphinaud returned his full focus to the portrait.

******

The days passed while Alphinaud took his time to focus on the painting. The Solar was nearly forbidden territory, with the exception of Dia, who nobody would dare try to stop. After nearly a week’s worth of effort, Dia finally opened the door, and approached her fellow Scions.

“If any of you would like to view the portrait and help us decide where to place it, that would be most welcome”, Dia announced to the group as they sat in the lobby. All but Estinien rose from their chairs and walked towards the Solar.

“That means you too, Estinien.”

“Your suggestion is noted.”

“Get in here, or I’m telling Alphinaud to put it on your bed.”

He stood up reluctantly and followed her into the Solar, where they beheld the group fawning over the portrait. Estinien and Dia looked to each other, Dia wearing a smile on her face, Estinien his usual stoic look. He slowly walked towards the portrait to join the group.

For the most part, the positions of everyone stayed the same with one notable exception; Estinien stood between Dia and Thancred with a smirk and with his hand placed on Alphinaud’s head.

“I’m glad he took my suggestion and made himself taller”, Dia mused. Estinien tore his eyes away from the painting and looked to Dia. “Didn’t he do a good job with you, Estinien?” He nodded, “Aye, he did.” He brought his attention back to his portrait self.

Is that how he sees me, he thought.

“All right, now the question remains: where do we place it?” Alphinaud asked the group.

Everyone took a moment to think. “What about up there?” Estinien suggested, pointing to a spot above the desk…the spot that once held Tupsimati. Most of the group shifted uncomfortably with the exception of G’raha and Dia.

“Well…” Alphinaud started.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Dia defended. The group made faces of disbelief towards her. “Look, I will never forget Louisoix, nor will I forget Moenbryda’s sacrifice. But that spot is perfect. Anytime we walk in, we’ll see us hanging there proudly. After all, Tupsimati’s not hung there in how many moons now. Why don’t we use that spot to honor a new legacy?”

The Scions considered her words. “Did I touch upon something sensitive?” Estinien whispered to Dia. “‘Tis a long story. You did nothing wrong”, she whispered back to him.

“All right. Perhaps it would be better for us all to let our own story be told. After all, we saved not just one world, but two. That should be worth a nice spot, don’t you think?” Thancred reasoned. The group nodded.

“Allow me”, offered G’raha. He took out his staff and levitated the portrait from it’s spot. Y’shtola took out her cane and prepared a nail for the painting to hang upon. The two combined their efforts, and in a matter of minutes, the portrait hanged proudly in the very same spot Louisoix’s legacy once stood, the legacy that Dia had unfortunately sacrificed along with Moenbryda in her attempt to destroy Nabriales.

“There. I like it there quite a bit”, Dia complimented. “Thank you, G’raha, Y’shtola.”

“Of course. Now would you care to explain to me why that spot seemed to cause discomfort?” G’raha questioned.

Dia smiled. “I owe you two an explanation, it would seem.”

[capsicrew]

Okay, half of them had a process and the others were just off the cuff--

Jalliim-- So I came up with this when I was just downloading the up-to-level-30 free trail way back, so I had no context for lore or names. When making an Elezen, I saw most of the suggested names were, like, faux French-sounding names, and I thought something along the lines of placing him more geographically south of that, and since Spain was south of France, I thought I’d come-up with something fake-Spanish-esque. And what says that than J having an “h” sound right (like a jalapeno pepper--which inspired the shared last name)? lmao, from there I just kinda filled out the name based on how I felt in that theme, but not based on anything in particular. If it wasn’t clear before, his name is pronounced “ha-leem.”

Capsisi-- Originally, Capsisi wasn’t gonna be, like, a “main character,” so I didn’t put a whole lot of effort in the name. I wanted to keep the same last name Jalliim had as sort of a joke, but still fit in the naming conventions of a female plainsfolk lalafell. The last name doesn’t quite fit the naming scheme, with its extra syllable, but that’s fine.

Kola-- This one was kinda off the cuff. I was struggling to think of a name--and I fell back on a tactic I often employ when struggling to think of a nickname for, like, Pokemon or something similar--food names. Keeper Miqo’te have short names, so I wanted to keep it to 1-2 syllables and I like soda, so here we are. I switched it from a C to a K because... well I don’t remember if I had a good reason lol

Beutiq-- I actually tried to put in some effort into this one. I did some (admittedly not terribly deep) looking into both Mongolian names and words to craft a name for the boy. I tried just now to do the same digging because... I actually don’t remember the names/words I used to create Beutiq’s name ;; I do remember selecting two which I pushed together as a name, then altered the spelling due to the in-universe leaning on phonic spellings in this case, rather than a strict writing guide among Xaela tribes. I do remember looking into words and name meanings that leaned into my expectations for Beutiq as a character (or a parent for their child lol), and leaned into meanings for creating, beauty and strength. It was a complete accident that it also looks/sounds like the word “boutique,” which I’m going to say was an accident in-universe as well--so it’s always amusing when Tataru talks about her boutique to Beutiq. “Bow-tick,’ btw

Ejvi-- I started creating Ejvi after Veira were announced to be added to the game, but also started to name her before we had official naming convention guidelines. Fortunately, she wasn’t born in the Veira homeland, so it didn’t super matter. We already had a good guess that Veira names would likely continue to take Scandinavian cues for inspiration. So while perusing a variety of names for inspiration, I also half-joked to myself that, like Jalliim’s inspiration, they also use a different sound for J than exists in English, and I should lean into it. As Ejvi developed more as a character in my head, I also decided to try and lean into a nature-inspired name. Eventually I decided on Ivy, and bumped it into Ejvi. It was keeping in that theme that her Chocobo is named Kudju (kudzu).

And they also all share the surname of Capsicum. As I mentioned, this is literally named after the pepper plant. Jalliim Capsicum is almost just “jalapeno pepper” lmao, and then I just kept attaching the name to all of them. While I don’t have an in-universe explanation for why they all have the same name other than just “extremely wild coincidence” (nor, I think, will I come up with one), it did at least inform part of a couple of their backstories/histories--such as what Capsisi’s parents are like to just slightly askew naming tradition, and why Beatiq’s tribe is not one of the “official 51 tribes” (lore here allows for more tribe names than those 51, so I’m not too off the mark), and thus developing a whole family history there.

As an bonus, a quick look at the chosen names for their retainers; F’lossi Tia is literally named after candy floss, and thus why I tend to dress him in soft pink. Shambo Ro is literally named after the Roshambo mini game in Paper Mario: Color Splash--which itself is named after a false story on an alternate name for Rock-Paper-Scissors. Infinite Stars was me getting poetic in a space-themed Hellsguard name and Laikmund Widalds was, like Ejvi, me picking a real world-thematic name I liked before actual Hrothgar naming conventions were released.

WoL QotD: What made you choose your WoL's name? Does it have any important meaning or did it just sound nice?

Follow up: Is it lore accurate? If it isn't, why not?