#I hadn't been to ishgard in a while

[sunnythanalan]

Jeweled Crozier

[hazelkjt]

quarrel — for the single-word drive!

"Quarrel- A heated argument or disagreement, typically about a trivial issue and between people who are usually on good terms."

Light snowfall danced upon the winds at Falcon's Nest, the sun fighting its never ending battle to pierce the clouds. The cold atmosphere usually gets to Hazel, but something else was currently on her mind at the moment. Someone else, more specifically. As the Au Ra waited by the airship landing zone for the next flight back to Ishgard, her gaze was fixated on a certain young Elezen tending to his bruises and aches. Despite the obvious pain he was in, Emmanellain de Fortemps had a curious smile across his face. "Ugh...I know I had asked you not to hold back against me old girl, but you may have gone overboard this time." He remarked to Hazel with a pained chuckle in his voice. The Auri woman turned her face away from the man and scrunched her nose. "I have no idea what you mean, I sparred the same way I always do." She spoke while trying her best to keep her disdain as low as she could, to little effect. There it was again. "OId girl." A term of endearment Emmanellain used for his female friends, however few he has. Hazel knew she shouldn't hold it against him for using it with her, she knows that...but regardless...

"...or perhaps the fact that you have been fighting more fiercely of late means I truly am improving! Lady Laniaitte is sure to take notice!" And the mention of her brings Hazel back to Emmanellain's rambling she was ignoring. Hazel turned back to face the Elezen, the look on her face enough to wipe the dazed grin from his. "Is something the matter, old girl?" He asked, genuine confusion in his voice. Hazel had kept her mouth shut for as long as she could, but just couldn't stand it anymore. She stands up, hands curling into fists as she stares daggers at Emmanellain. "How long do you intend to keep living in your own little fairy tale about her? There's no fucking way you're this dense. You've got something resembling a brain in there, Emm." A slight scowl formed on her face as she began to air her frustrations. Emmanellain stops rubbing his bruised ribcage and leans back on the ground, breaking eye contact with Hazel. "I...haven't the slightest what you mean, haha!" He forces a smile to the surface, but the shaking in his voice gives it away. So Hazel continues to press the subject. "Oh come on Emm, it's the most obvious thing on the star. She doesn't care for you! At all! You're just a nuisance to her!" Emmanellain begins to stand and opens his mouth to respond, but Hazel cuts him off, taking a step closer and folding her arms. "No matter how much you try and improve or impress her, it won't work! So why in all the hells are you so determined to try and woo her when-" Hazel suddenly stops mid-sentence. Idiot! What, were you really gonna say 'when I'm right here!?' How stupid can you get!?

The pained look in the Elezen's eyes is quickly discarded as he lets out another chuckle, closing them with a self-assured smirk rising on his lips. "Ah, old girl, you must be mistaken. Love is not something that is created in an instant, and...let us call it general annoyance is not the natural opposite of love. The fates call Lady Laniatte and I together, and one day-" Hazel cuts him off once more with a stomp of her foot, tail flying up behind her in anger. "Would you wake up already, dumbass!? Even you can't be stupid enough to believe that!" Emmanellain's brow furrows, but his smile remains. He opens his eyes to make contact with Hazel's, but her intense stare quickly makes him avert his gaze to the side. The young man is more visibly flustered, playing with an end of his hair for a moment before continuing. "Ahh...well...have you ever heard of the expression 'Tis better to give love without receiving love, than to never have loved at all?' Quite the simple yet powerful saying, I would say." Hazel's tail drops in surprise, she hadn't expected him to give in so quickly. "...So you do know? Then why the hells do you keep trying when you could be giving your 'love' to someone who'd be happy to give some back!?" The Au Ra's cheeks slowly turn a light shade of pink as she processes what she just said. "I think um-y'know, uh-I mean, there's gotta be someone out there!" She stammers, cursing her voice for getting a little higher pitched and her tail for beginning to sway side to side.

The smile fades from Emanellain's face for a moment before another takes its place, one very obviously forced. He scoffs and crosses his arms. "What, others interested in me? When my much more esteemed and accomplished brother is right there as well? That's quite a reach, old girl." Hazel's nose scrunches again as she frowns. "Stop calling me that..." She mutters under her breath, but the flash of confusion on the Elezen's face makes it clear he heard her.

Eager to change the subject, Hazel once again glares at Emmanellain. She could feel her anger getting to a boiling point. "I thought you were past this whole comparing yourself to Artoirel thing? You don't have to be better than him at anything! Just a better you!" The young Elezen rolls his eyes and runs a hand through his hair. "Oh, do not misunderstand me old girl-ah, apologies. Hazel. I am quite comfortable with who I am...comfortable enough I suppose. But as you said yourself, I am not that big of a fool. His reputation precedes him, as my reputation precedes me." Hazel found herself grinding her teeth as the man continued, her temper rising once again. "I understand well enough why those seeking courtship would not give me more than a passing glance. And I have made peace with that...so I instead give my love to those around me, even if I receive none in return." A sad smile rises on his features as Emmanellain brings his arms up, as is presenting himself. "After all who would harbor love for a man like me?" And there it was, her breaking point. With a growl and her tail pointed straight upwards in anger, Hazel lunges forward and grabs the straps of Emmanellain's armor. The Elezen became wide-eyed in both confusion and fear as Hazel glared at him, her cheeks beginning to burn bright red...and tears beginning to form in her eyes. Before the man could say anything or push her away, she yelled directly in his face.

"I DO, YOU IDIOT!"

Emmanellain could only stare in shock as Hazel fought back tears. "Wh-" his question was interrupted by Hazel pulling him into a tight hug. "I love you..." Her voice was barely more than a whisper, he could barely make out what she had said. The two stood there in silence, only the occasional sniffle from Hazel to break the quiet atmosphere around them. Eventually, Emmanellain spoke up. "...How long?" He asked, still too shocked to return the hug he was receiving...alongside the aches and pains from training.

Hazel prepared herself to answer by taking a few deep breaths, loosening her bear hug on the bruised man ever so slightly. "I don't remember when...but it's been a while..." She weakly gets out, slightly louder than before. Emmanellain is finally able to close his gaping mouth and begins to stir, hesitating still however. "Me?...are you sure?" The uncertainty in his voice was clear as day, almost as if he was also about to cry.

Hazel responded by holding him tighter in her arms. "Shut up and hug me back already." With a strained chuckle, Emmanellain slowly brought his arms around the Au Ra, taking a deep breath himself. "Of course." And with his final words, the two stayed in silence while awaiting the airship, both oblivious to the streak of sunlight breaking through the dull grey of the clouds.

[promethea-silk]

DWC Nov 2024 Day 1 - Haze

The night had come quickly, all the busy sounds of the day falling quiet within the household, leaving but the haunting creaks and moans of the home's bones and the crackling of the fires within the fireplaces. As often she did, Cordelia had taken to her reading room, steam rising from her brewing tea with book in hand as she found herself deep in the throes of the written pages. That was until the soft sound of footsteps could be heard behind the closed door before it was followed the gentle sound of rustling. "I know you are out there, I can hear you." She called out sternly but not in a demanding tone as her book was closed and set aside. "Come inside." Taking up her dress, as she had not yet readied for bed, she turned to greet her visitor, no smile but somehow her features still held a softness to them. As she came closer, the small figure meeting her by the nearby sofa, she lowered herself to be more on his level. "Now, tell me, why are you up at this hour? Your father would be quite displeased should he find out you're not in your bed, dear one." The young boy with dark brown hair and blueish gray hues gazed at her sleepily. "I couldn't sleep, the wind is loud and I hoped you could tell me a story." His sheepish tone brought a flicker of a smile to Cordelia's feature as she reached out to cup her son's cheek before nodding and reaching for his hand. "Let's go find your father, we can have some milk and honey and snuggle up in bed together."

Lids fluttered as Cordelia was pulled from her sleep by the shifting form at her side. She hadn't needed to glance over to confirm it was Ricard but for some reason she always felt the desire to. A hand moved to trail over his arm briefly before she turned to roll over to the opposite side, swinging her legs over and sitting up with a quiet sigh. With every attempt to not wake him, she crossed over to the window, a single finger slipping behind the darkened curtains to allow vantage for her to gaze outside. The cold early morning still held a snowy haze over the surrounding of Ishgard, the time feeling later than it truly was as the sun struggling to peak beyond the snow clouds.

It had been a few weeks since Valeria's passing, she had not heard from Vahalia despite her attempt to leave some sort of comfort and even though through her talks with Ricard that she should try harder to reach out to her, Cordelia found herself struggling to do so. What would she say? What could she say, really? None of it truly mattered as she stood silently dissociating out the glass panes, an emotion rising in her chest that she had never experienced much before. She missed her sister, missed her niece and nephew. She missed someone and as she continued to shake away the dream from moments prior, she realized her conversations had been true. Cordelia would make it a point to pen her another letter once the household was awake for the day and she made it to her study.

Cecily had continued to prove to be a thorn in their sides, playing her angle of the game tried and true and entirely resolute. It was still not yet time for Cordelia to make her entrance on the chess board in that regard, Delwyn still had plenty of work to do while she and Ricard did their best on the back end while ensuring the Grays did not catch on that they knew of their plans.

Stress, more stress. That's all this was. Intriguing stress, but it was all the same nonetheless. Ricard's emotion fueled conversations with her seemed to have planted a seed, one she had no intentions of feeding but it seemed her subconscious had other ideas. He had been affected by the events of the past month and she understood why and how it shaped his outlook on things. She also knew the expectations of her for the future, with Ricard or otherwise but right now was not the time to see them through, it could not be. She needed to reconnect with Vahalia, deal with Cecily and her siblings, and get through Starlight, then they could move forward in some direction.

She glanced over at the man sleeping in her bed, the sound of him stirring likely to feeling her absence distracting her from her thoughts briefly. They had time, even though time felt fleeting for them both. She didn't want this yet, or so she continued to try to convince herself despite how she felt herself smile upon seeing him roll over toward her and beckon her back to bed.

Reconnect with Vahalia.

Deal with Cecily.

Get through Starlight.

@daily-writing-challenge

[ @vahalia-cress @ricard-blythe-ffxiv for mentions]

[keicordelle]

"I must stop him, for the sake of Ishgard," Aymeric insisted, teetering to his feet. I hadn't even thought to check if they had healed at all under Alphinaud's care, yet here he was standing on them.

"Fuck Ishgard!" I snarled, stunning my three companions into silence. "Nidhogg is vanquished, and if they wish to burn themselves alive, then let them. Please, for once, think about yourself first instead of fighting battles that are not your own." By the end, it was not anger that colored my speech, but supplication. I found myself on one knee before him, his hand clasped gently between both of mine. "I do not wish to see any further harm come to you."

He hesitated, crystalline gaze conflicted as he looked down at me, but I knew even before I read the decision in his eyes that it was futile. That even begging him on my knees was not enough to keep him from what he judged to be his duty and his destiny, and in that moment I loved him and hated him for it in equal measure.

He shook his head, resolute. "This is my battle. I must do this. I pray you will understand."

Resigned, I stood and stepped back, scooping up my lance once more from where it had fallen, forgotten. "Very well. But you shan't go alone." You'll never be alone again. I shall accompany you ever and always.

-

My favorite section from my estimeric fic Rescue, set during the Vault and before either of them had realized their feelings. Aymeric has been held captive and tortured by Thordan, and Estinien frees him while the Warrior of Light confronts the Archbishop.

I like this moment as Estinien's first real dereliction from duty. Like yes he ran away with the Eye earlier, but he was, for the most part, doing it for the benefit of Ishgard. I feel like the Vault is a great moment for Estinien to go for the first time "Fuck Ishgard." They've done their part. His beloved best friend has been held prisoner and subjected to the whims of the most sadistic people in the country, yet the first thing he wants to do is confront him again?

Estinien realizes his priorities for the first time, even if he doesn't realize yet why or even that he feels so strongly for Aymeric. And he can't even hold onto his anger. The rage that has consumed him for so many years fails him in the face of his friend in danger, and all he can do is beg Aymeric not to go.

And yet even from the start, we know how it's going to turn out. We know that Aymeric is going to go anyway. That story is already written.

So instead Estinien promises to go with him. He'll stay by Aymeric's side and ensure nothing ever happens again to hurt him.

Except we know how that story goes too. Estinien will leave him. He will leave, and Aymeric will be hurt again. Both by his absence, and during it.

[valdiis]

FFXIV Site Write #9: Lend an Ear

Onaerion spent large swathes of the day alone. Not just this day, but all days. His life was not given overmuch to company. He had been an active and gregarious youth, but since the accident (and he knew it was an accident) he had become a recluse. The typical ton of Ishgardian high society had long since stopped trying to court him, given that he had become a very contrary and difficult man. And the house staff more often than not just irritated him. This state of affairs typically did not bother Rion anymore, but there were occasional days when he really missed just having someone to talk to. None of the friends he'd had before had stuck around after, and all it took to lose his brother was to yell "I hate you and I never want to see you again." It had taken seven years to undo that damage - if it could ever truly be undone.

Rion leaned his head back in his chair and sighed heavily. He just wanted someone to talk to, someone who'd lend an ear to his troubles without trying to solve every bloody thing or - just as bad - writing his concerns off as vapid rantings. It was too much to ask for a friend when he was such a dragon to deal with, but he found himself wishing for a friend anyway.

After a few moments of feeling sorry for himself - a common but ultimately fruitless pastime - he straightened in his chair and set his hands to the wheels. A little maneuvering had him across the room to the nightstand beside his bed where he kept the detritus that would otherwise go in pockets. It was a pain to fish things out of pockets when you were always sitting down. He rummaged through the items sitting on a porcelain tray until he found the little pearl his brother had given him.

A linkpearl, he and Jaxon had called it. Rion had done a spot of research afterwards and discovered they were a fairly common Eorzean invention. Why it hadn't taken on in Ishgard was beyond him, but maybe now that the Dragonsong War was over, trade and commerce would bring new ideas to the nation. He plucked out the linkpearl and eyed it with an expression somewhere between wary and dubious (which were not far enough apart to make much distinction). So he'd just...put this in his ear and tap it, and it would make a noise for the pearl it was linked to. And he could ring up his brother. Just like that.

A damn sight more convenient than writing letters. He rolled the pearl in his fingers. It hadn't been more than two days since Dae and his boyfriend had visited and already he was craving more interaction. He was so bored. It was almost bad enough to have him wanting to see this chirurgeon they'd talked about, just to have someone new to talk to.

The mere thought pulled a grumpy noise from him and he set the linkpearl down on the nightstand. Chirurgeons. What a waste of time. Rion sighed heartily and reached for the book on the nightstand instead. Might as well read for a while. Daephrin was probably busy anyway, doing...whatever it was sky pirates did. Maybe the next memoir Rion bought would be about them. It wouldn't hurt to do some research. Besides, there were only so many memoirs about clergy he could stomach.

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

on our fates alight--request

"Give him what he wants."

The statement had the effect of a bomb going off in Count Edmont's study. Shocked silence met Haurchefant's words, and then the hush was broken by Artoirel.

"What did you just say?!"

"Give the brother of Halone's Dominant what he wants." Haurchefant repeated. "Let them shelter with us, and draw a line with the other High Houses and the Church."

"Steady on, old boy!" Emmanellain protested. "Do you ever hear what you're saying?!"

"One of the most dangerous men in Ishgard was chosen by the Fury to be her flesh incarnate amongst us." Haurchefant fixed his gaze on his older brother. They didn't have a relationship, but he knew that Artoirel was every inch a solider much like the men and women that he commanded.

"He has scandal attached to his name." Artoirel replied. The look on his face was thoughtful, and Haurchefant seized the opening.

"Would you call it scandal or cleverness? So yes, he left the city for Ul'dah. Yes, he fought on the bloodsands. But he left as one of their most acclaimed champions--and wasn't even after the glory! He wanted only to better his skills in combat and to have the money needed to free himself from the vultures that call themselves his kin!"

"Haurchefant." Count Edmont warned, but it was without heat. He watched as his middle child spun on an armored heel to face him.

"Am I wrong? Of all the vipers in the pit that is Dzemael and their vassal Houses, House Seymour is the worst! How Ser Augustine was able to come out of it with the purity of heart and spirit that he bears has been remarked upon by many!"

"It's said Ser Vellguine was torn between him and Zephirin for the position of Archimandrite." Emmanellain crossed his arms, musing. "And he was in the running for at least second-in-command of the Temple Knights. If he hadn't gone to Ul'dah, he might have at least been able to obtain the latter."

"He's kind-hearted." He could see what his...brother was getting at. And if Artoirel was honest with himself, he'd thought upon it too. Kindness had no place on the battlefield with the dragons. Yet Augustine Seymour--now Bishop-- was praised for his gentle heart...but also feared for his utter ruthlessness and skill in battle. From healing fallen comrades to turning around and completely decimating his area of the field in a dance of blood and steel without so much as a blink... Artoirel looked at his-no, their father, who had leaned back in the chair. The older Fortemps' eyes were closed, and his arms crossed.

"This is not a light thing you are asking for, Haurchefant. His own deeds aside, there is still the matter of the Church and just how Halone came to choose him instead of the Archbishop." He said, opening his eyes. Not to mention there was an elephant in the room that everyone was steadfastly ignoring...Augustine's own bastardy.

"We declare ourselves neutral." His son countered. "We draw the lines, father! We are neutral due to offering sanctuary to Halone's Dominant and his kin! Anyone who tries anything would be violating the law of hospitality!"

"It could work?" Emmanellian held up his hands as all eyes focused on him. "We might have to withdraw on some matters--or ask for impartial judges--but I doubt that anyone would want to dare raise a sword against the Fury herself, let alone Her Chosen! If anything, it could possibly elevate our standing!"

"The other Houses." Edmont began.

"Nothing ever pleases Dzemael, and we know Durendaire will complain! Hallienarte would come around--in fact, they have no choice! They don't have the means to support or protect them!" Haurchefant urged. He watched as Edmont looked at Artoirel. His older brother nodded.

"We would have to be careful for a while. No mistakes, no scandals--" Artoirel glared at Emmanellian, who pouted and crossed his arms. "And we have to stay out of any business involving the Church. We have to be perfect until everything...settles."

"We can do it!" Haurchefant declared. "We don't even have to house them in the city. I can prepare quarters for them at Camp Dragonhead--in fact, that's what he wanted."

"His brother asked specifically for that?" Edmont repeated, his brows furrowing. Haurchefant nodded.

"He did. It was a request not only from him, but from Ser Augustine himself." The silver-haired elezen gestured. He watched as Edmont absorbed those words.

"...The business with the Fury aside...I cannot blame them for wanting out of the city. It could be that they are safer here than there." Edmont uncrossed his arms. "Very well. Extend the offer of our House's hospitality to them both."

[ofdragonsdeep]

29: Style

A distinctive manner of expression.

Ar'telan considers the strange place he finds himself in.

Everkeep was a strange place.

They had been granted access as Sphene's guests, but i thad not been an auspicious start - waiting at the automaton on guard duty to see if they would need to subdue it violently instead. The lift was bright and harsh, an electrope box that ferried them up to Solution Nine.

Bright. Purple. Flashy. Every wall had something daubed upon it, either as some kind of moving advertisement or grafitti. It was loud and overwhelming, and while the others seemed fascinated, Ar'telan wanted to find a quiet hole and hide in it until the noise died down.

While the others had begun their exploration, he had found the residential blocks. They were still large, and loud, but the little ornamental pond and tiny garden were grounding. He sat himself on one of the benches, staring at the fish ambling through the water, and thought.

He didn't understand how it worked. On the surface, he saw the appeal that Sphene's setup might have - forgetting death. Escaping the pain of loss. But they knew people died. They just didn't face it.

He put one hand up to his head, where the Regulator might have sat. There was nothing inherently wrong, he thought, with the way they used souls. Assuming tey weren't consumed permanently - their methods would have collapsed long ago if they were - they were simply empty energy. It was everything else.

Mourning wasn't easy. He had mourned so many people, and it had never got easier. But the idea of instead forgetting them…

What holes would it leave in the heart? To forget Moenbryda, who had sacrificed everything in desperation. For Urianger to not know why he knew her parents so deeply. It had been a hard trek for all of them to Rathefrost, but they had all made it for a reason.

What of Nidhogg? The stretch of time leading up to their final confrontation on the Steps of Faith had been trying, and he would never be free of the guilt. But would it leave if he forgot? If Ishgard had a history of agony and regret framed by an empty space?

But they tried to avoid that, too. The lightning made things dangerous, true, but there was a plenty surrounding them that tried to prevent conflict. No-one wanted for food, for shelter, for coin - if they even had coin here. Work was expected, but they were not left to starve in its absence - only without souls.

And so that formed their heirarchy.

It was empty. Sphene had been so delighted to tell them that she had supported the Turali caught under the dome, but she hadn't. Yyasulani was crumbling. There was nothing not driven levin-mad to hunt. The crops were entirely dependent on Everkeep's complex electrope mechanisms. The livestock were an afterthought. And no-one remembered the elders whose traditions they kept. Over time, it eroded into nothing, and they only carried on because they thought they had to, because it was work, and work granted them souls. There was no connection.

Maybe that was the core of it. Meracydia would never be free of the scars Allag had left on the land, but with Regulators, over time they would lose the reasons why. The watches they kept and the stories they told would become an empty tradition, meaningless and quickly abandoned once the last person who understood why was gone. There was a reason Sphene's people had created the Regulators, but none living now remembered why. There was a cause for the fulminous cauldron the sky had become, and nobody knew it. They simply lived, and made no impact, because even if they did it was ripped from the minds of everyone they knew when they passed on.

Fast. Ephemeral. Show without substance. A placid existence, all idea of strife or concern scrubbed out, so they could live and die and leave no wound when it was removed.

But if that were the whole truth, why Zoraal Ja?

Sphene was no fighter, but she had a mountain of automata at her disposal. Zoraal Ja was strong, but he had been alone when he had found them - he was never anything but. someone had given him control of the army, an army they would not even have needed if they had continued to persist alone in their isolated little bubble. Their King's only goal was war, an engine of death whose only outcome was the inexorable repeat of what had happened in Tuliyollal. Why?

There was more to it. A more that even the people, content in their bubble, hiding from the consequences, likely didn't even know. He had to find out what. Find out why. Make this bright, empty paradise make sense.

With a purpose, he could weather it.

[anneapocalypse]

Thoughts Before Endwalker

As I'm about to start Endwalker, I thought it was high time I actually write up some closing thoughts on Shadowbringers, and since I really haven't done this for any of the other expansions, this has turned into a general "thoughts so far" kind of post! And also long. This is not any kind of an essay, just a big long thoughts dump. Spoilers for everything through the end of the Shadowbringers patches.

And I trust I don't have to say this to my own followers at least, but just for the record: please do not tell me anything about Endwalker here, even if you think it's minor, even if you want to hint at something I'll like. I know very little and I'm looking forward to watching it all unfold.

How it started!

It's been a year and change since I started playing this game in the fall of 2022. I didn't actually expect to play very far (I only picked it up in the first place because I was helping a friend set it up! I swore I would never play an MMO! I hated multiplayer games!) and I certainly didn't ever expect to get as deep into it as I have! ARR is very handholdy for new players, which was exactly what I needed to enjoy playing and keep playing. I love the story and the characters and the world and while I do enjoy the solo aspects of the game very much, I've also ended up really actively enjoying playing with other people! I enjoy dungeons. I enjoy raids. I run roulettes more or less every day. Free Company life hasn't always been smooth sailing (long story I won't get into here), but it's also brought me a lot of fun times and some new friends, as well as seeing me step into an active leadership role and not hate it. Who am I? 😂 I don't know! It's not that I've never tried to step out of my comfort zone before when it comes to games and hobbies, it's just that most of those experiences haven't been good and I've ultimately walked away from them. I don't know why this has been different, but it has. It's challenged me to tackle and let go of a lot of old insecurities, which I'm glad for (and grateful to friends who've been patient with me along the way). It's also just been a really good time, and continues to be.

How it's gone! (ARR through Stormblood)

So here I am, in 2024, about to start the last current expansion! Shadowbringers is easily my favorite expansion thus far, but I have really enjoyed the whole ride.

I enjoyed all of ARR, because while I don't think it has the strongest writing and certainly not the strongest characterization, it's really more a very long introduction to the world and its major players and conflicts, and while slow-moving, it does serve that function, and for someone brand-new to MMOs like me, slow was okay. It gave me time to get my bearings and learn the game.

I did really love Heavensward. It hits on several aspects of Fantasy Politics that I enjoy (generations-long war, class politics, structural reform), and postwar Ishgard, while maybe still a little rosy, still doesn't shy away from the growing pains of social change. Also the dragons were cool. I loved Haurchefant a lot, and was heartbroken by his death even as I knew it was coming; I also wouldn't change it. I think his death was meaningful and the natural culmination of his character. A Knight lives to serve. I think Haurchefant was always going to go out sacrificing himself for someone else. If it hadn't been the Vault, it would have been somewhere else. He was a delight and I miss him dearly, but it was a good narrative beat and one I wouldn't change.

Ysayle, on the other hand, I really don't think needed to die. She undergoes a fascinating character arc in Heavensward which I think the writing really drops the ball on at the end. Ideally, I think Ysayle coming to terms with her missteps while continuing to fight for what she believes in would be fantastic. She could have been a meaningful figure in Ishgard's reforms, and she would have made a great Scion. Her death also simply isn't treated with the same reverence as Haurchefant's, and I think that's sad. Heavensward has a bit of a Women Problem, in that it really doesn't give us a lot of female characters who are central to the plot, in contrast to a lot of great and memorable male characters. And the one who is most central dies with a lot less fanfare than WoL BFF Haurchefant. (And I'm not knocking Haurchefant, whom I love dearly, or Aymeric or Estinien! The imbalance is just very noticeable and I wish it wasn't so.)

Stormblood tends to get a bad rap among FFXIV's expansions. It's so common to hear people say it's their least favorite, it wasn't as good as Heavensward, etc. It came up recently in a server I'm in, where a newer player said they were having a bit of content fatigue after Heavensward, and having heard that Stormblood wasn't very good, they were considering buying a story skip. Other responses were, not outright negative, but mostly lukewarm, and I felt like I was the only one who really came out for Stormblood's story. First of all, I don't agree that it's not as good as Heavensward! I grant you that not everyone is as enamored of Fantasy Politics as I am, but as mentioned above, Heavensward is also very political, so I don't really think that's the big difference. Stormblood is maybe a bit grittier in its depiction of war, and that's something I like about it; it's really about the horrors of imperialism and the cost of resistance, and it doesn't pull its punches on that.

Ironically where it does pull its punches is with character deaths, heroes and villains alike. It does feel a little like someone thought they might have hit us too hard in Heavensward, given that we haven't had a lot of major character deaths stick since. I'm not complaining about Gosetsu's return, as I liked him very much and was very happy he lived. I will grumble a little about Zenos, though I'll go easy because I know a lot of people like him. 😛 He just doesn't do much for me. Yotsuyu was a great villain, and I was really dubious when they brought her back, but was pleasantly surprised with how her story ended, to the point that I'm willing to eat a lot of what I said about memory loss as a plot device. They did well with it, and her ultimate death did feel appropriate. Yotsuyu was never going to have a redemption arc, because she didn't want to be redeemed.

It was very refreshing in Stormblood to have more female characters taking essential roles in the plot. Colorism issues aside, I do really like Lyse as a character, and I also loved seeing Yugiri and Alisaie taking prominent roles, especially Alisaie who really hadn't gotten to be in the main plot much before. Rolling around with the three of them was a blast. Raubahn is also a favorite of mine, so seeing him play a major role in Ala Mhigo's liberation and get some character development was excellent. I'm happy that he's stayed involved with the Resistance in the time since.

I also just think Stormblood's new areas are absolutely beautiful. Kugane and the Azim Steppe are particular faves, but I just think they did a great job with the environments and I loved exploring them, including the underwater bits! Eorzea and Ishgard are so European-inspired, and I really enjoyed seeing Asian cultural influences in a fantasy setting. It is after all a Japanese game!

Just this week I finished the reconstruction of the Doman Enclave. As a player who's joined the game more recently, it's always bittersweet to learn about game elements that were temporal and are now lost to time, like the evolution of Mor Dhona during the ARR patches, or the Ishgardian Restoration in the Firmament. I can go hang out in the Firmament and craft and do fêtes and custom deliveries, but I'll never get to see the Firmament being built. It was done when I got there, which for me was after completing 3.3, very soon after completing the main story of Heavensward. The Doman Enclave goes in the other direction. It is a solo experience by necessity, but it's an experience that every new player can have: making their donations every week and watching the Enclave grow. Such things are always a trade-off for an MMO, but between the two, I would definitely choose the one that doesn't lock new players out of the experience.

And to give one last shout-out to Stormblood, I think it's pretty essential setup for what's happening when Shadowbringers begins. It's not just that the Scions are dropping like flies, it's that this is happening on the brink of a full-scale Garlean invasion. Said invasion is also critical to the bad future that G'raha is ultimately trying to prevent. The state and history of Garlemald is inextricably tied to the Ascians who are tied up in all of this. Stormblood is arguably more important to the events of Shadowbringers than Heavensward is, though Heavensward is also not unimportant, both with the continued presence of Estinien (reluctantly so if we believe him 😉), and with the involvement of Tiamat in the Shadowbringers patches. It's all connected!

How it's going! (Shadowbringers)

Urianger is, unsurprisingly, a big part of why I love Shadowbringers so much, as he gets some wonderful character development there and actually gets to be in the plot! But it's not only him—I like how character-driven Shadowbringers is overall, how much the major characters are driving the story and not merely reacting to events. ARR was largely driven by the world itself; the expansions are where the story starts to become character-driven. The driving forces of Heavensward's are much bigger than the main characters, but Haurchefant and Ysayle and Aymeric and Estinien bring a personal face to the conflict and a reason for us to be invested in it. Stormblood's emotional core is Lyse, Yugiri, Gosetsu, and their collective drive to liberate their homelands from Garlean occupation.

Shadowbringers, to me, really brought all of that home. It's not only character-driven but it brings a much more personal touch, I think, to the Scions themselves, with the major players being characters we've known since ARR but now get to know in a deeper way. I've always liked Y'shtola as a character but never felt I really connected with her, and Shadowbringers changed that, even as her story in Shadowbringers is in many ways about her isolation from the others, her (sometimes justified) mistrust and the way she closes herself off even to the people closest to her. Yet there is a deep caring beneath Y'shtola's prickliness as well, which we see in her leadership of the Night's Blessed, the new family she is willing to risk her life for. She's complex and difficult, sometimes angry and stubborn, and we all know I love that in a fictional woman. I really gained a deeper appreciation for her as a character here.

I've said my piece on Minfilia already, so I'll try not to repeat myself too much. I will say that Thancred is the main character I have the hardest time with in Shadowbringers. I appreciated the additional character development given to him at first, but as the story made Minfilia's death more and more all about him to the exclusion of everyone else, the more I started to kind of resent it. It really gets under my skin how he treats Ryne for like, the entire time until Minfilia Prime's final departure. The narrative kind of treats it like oh, he just has a hard time expressing how he really feels! and honestly I don't fully agree with that framing. I think Thancred's cold and harsh attitude toward Ryne does reflect how he really feels at that time—namely, he's angry and lonely and upset for valid reasons, but he's taking them out on a teenager who's fully dependent on him for her survival, to the point that she admits she thinks he hates her. His legitimate pain doesn't justify that to me, and it really kinda chaps my ass how everyone just agrees that he's the one with the most claim to call Ryne family, when Urianger was far kinder, gentler, and more comforting to Ryne than Thancred ever was. And Urianger was in pain too. He also regrets what happened to Minfilia, and his part in it. He was carrying a terrible secret that he couldn't tell his closest friends, which put one of those friends' life in danger. He just owned his feelings, instead of taking them out on a scared kid. I know my bias is obvious, and I swear I don't hate Thancred 😛 but I really didn't like his behavior here and I wasn't really satisfied with the way the narrative handled it.

Probably my least favorite part of Shadowbringers was Vauthry. I just do not like "fat" as shorthand for "evil" and I think there could have been better ways to design him that didn't fall back on that trope. Even Dulia-Chai, a very lovable character in the end whomst we stan, does fall into some fatphobic tropes, and it's unfortunate that in a game without much body diversity (not to single out FFXIV, that's a problem for games generally), we only got fat character models as signifiers for "rich person" (yeah, I get that "fat cat" is the joke, it's just not a good joke) and "repulsive, evil abomination." No love!

On a lighter note, the return of G'raha Tia as the Crystal Exarch was simply wonderful. G'raha was very cute and fun during the Crystal Tower story but his presence was quite short-lived, so we didn't fully get to know him then. I think it's pretty easy to guess that it's him under the hood; he has a distinctive voice and lip shape and also the tower is right there. So the question becomes why he is hiding his identity, what his true motives are, and that's all intriguing! The fact that his plan hinges on his pretending to be the villain at the end and he utterly fails at convincing anyone is… deeply charming. But one of the things I love most about him is the kindness he extends to the people of Norvrandt. Even though his primary mission is the salvation of the Source, he gets attached to these people, offers up the resources of the Crystal Tower freely to improve their lives, helps build a home and sanctuary, fights for the First and becomes deeply invested in their survival as well. He has a huge heart, and I love him. I'm delighted that he gets to return and join the Scions at the end, and it's already been a lot of fun to have him along on the patch quests.

And of course, Urianger my love. 💜 He really shines in this story and every scene with him was a delight, even when I was climbing the walls needing to know what he was hiding. He gets so much good character development in Shadowbringers I could go on for hours about it, but I did especially love the Echo scene where you see G'raha asking him to lie—and you see how much he doesn't want to do it. Urianger's really been on a long arc ever since Moenbryda's death, and I don't think that arc is over yet, but my biggest worry for him as the cracks started to form in his story was that we'd find he hadn't changed, and was lying here for the same reasons he did in the Heavensward patches, and as easily. And that's not the case at all. He hated doing it before, and he really doesn't want to do it again, but G'raha's reasoning is just too strong for him to refuse. I brought it up recently but I think Shadowbringers reveals an Urianger who despite his long isolation really doesn't want to be alone, and does want his friends' understanding and approval and their trust. The look he gives the Warrior of Light if they say they trust him, and then the way he submits himself to their judgment when things go wrong while begging to be allowed to help fix things… god. I love him. And I'll stop there for now, since I'm sure I'll have a lot more to say about him in the future. ;)

Emet-Selch is a fascinating villain, certainly the most interesting Ascian we've seen so far, and the one who finally turns what have been fairly two-dimensional powerful bad guys into a truly motivated and complex faction. My favorite villains are always the ones who believe they're the hero, and there are a lot of parallels between Emet-Selch and Solas from Dragon Age: Inquisition which will be obvious to anyone who's played both games. FFXIV being a more linear story afford the player a lot less choice in how they respond to their villains true motives and history, but there's definitely still an expectation that we will sympathize somewhat with Emet-Selch, and recognize the tragedy of what happened to his people.

Ardbert's ghost, too, was a welcome addition to the story. Between his presence and the role quests (which were 100% worth doing in their entirety), I felt like we finally got to actually know the Warriors of Darkness against which we briefly clashed back in the Heavensward patches, and I really felt the pathos of their story, all they fought for and lost, but also their friendship and how they cared for one another.

Shadowbringers is beautiful in so many ways. The design of the Crystarium is gorgeous. Il Mheg is probably my favorite location in the game so far. Eulmore is a fascinating dark mirror of Limsa Lominsa. The way the game takes the idea of "a world being swallowed by light" and interprets that visually is so stunning. The sky over Lakeland arrests you immediately upon arrival, and the crystallization of the Flood of Light where it was halted at the edged of Amh Araeng is a chilling reminder of how much the First has already lost. The music has also been a highlight for me! I really adore the Shadowbringers music, and it has prompted me to go about collecting orchestrion rolls more deliberately than I had before.

The more I sit and write about how much I loved this expansion, the more I think of, so while I could definitely go on, I think I'll wrap it up there. 🙂

Onward to Endwalker. I'm not making any predictions this time, because I have done my absolute damnedest to stay unspoiled for this one and I know very little about what's coming other than what the locations are, what's been revealed in the Shadowbringers patches, and that it's the end of the big story arc we've been on since ARR. I'm extremely excited.

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 20: Duel

If there was one thing most people could agree on about Esredes, it was that he didn't forget the past.

A long time ago, he was but a green little trainee, not even a squire. He was tasked to deliver a report letter to a Captain about their patrol details, and that was when he first met him.

Ser Astor Chevalier was towering and commanding, complete with a verdant cape. To say the little Elezen who had yet to hit his growth spurt was intimidated would at the least be accurate, and he barely knew how to even dare approach the man. "E-excuse me, Ser!" Was his best attempt, as he stiffened his body language and saluted him. "A-are you Ser Astor?"

The man turned around to fix him with an expectant stare, folding his arms behind his back as he took Esredes in. "And what's this? You're not one of mine." His voice was resonant, but it carried an unexpected softness to it underneath. "At ease, son. Indeed, you've got the right man. What is it you need?"

"I've a missive from Ser Bishop to deliver, Ser. Report of the most recent patrol. He said you would want to read it first."

"Ser Bishop, eh?" He took the missive from Esredes' hands and opened it with a letter opener, addressing Esredes as he read. "What's your name, son?"

"Esredes, Ser. Esredes Rosemond."

"Rosemond? Did I hear that right?" He nodded as his eyes snapped up to meet Esredes'. "Not oft one of yours comes our way."

"Ah, no, Ser, but I'm proud and happy to be here."

"And you're still green..." The man shifted his jaw and waved a hand out towards the training field. "Tell me, Rosemond. What made you so keen on joining the ranks?"

This was not the first time Esredes had been asked this question. He broke eye contact to look out at the field with the commander. They all said it in that same tone, like they expected a correct response. He simply needed to give that response. "I have wanted to since I was younger." He settled on with firm eye contact. "But I was not allowed. Not until I finished schooling, my parents said. However, I studied everything I could from books, and I watched a cousin train. I read all the stories, I listened to what knights had to say. I know deep in my soul this is what Halone wants for me. No other path forward has opened up to me but this. I want to protect and save others, Ser. I want to do right for the people of Ishgard."

"Your parents were wise in telling you this. A man-no matter his reasoning-should never wish to go to war. It is a harsh, cruel, unrelenting force, not unlike the chaos of nature itself. Only nature, however destructive, serves purpose in its discord. War bears no cause, sowing nothing but blood and loss." He turned. "Come with me, Rosemond." Oh no. Esredes had said the wrong thing, hadn't he? Esredes followed in silence, heart pounding a little as they climbed the steps that afforded them a better view of the entire camp. "What is it you think they all hold in common, regardless of their drive-their reason for wishing to enter knighthood? To face war head on?"

It was a riddle, Esredes reasoned. It was always a riddle with them. “They’re… human? Vulnerable? Willing to do it? Not ready?”

Astor's arms clasped behind him. "All good answers. And none of them wrong. But they have one other thing in common. One more aspect to their lives, true for any man or woman who steps out unto the fray." He turned his head to look at Esredes. "You, all of you, are someone's child. Perhaps to nobility, highborn of the purest bloodline. Perhaps not, born to little or nothing at all. Perhaps some have never met their own, while others know well their lineage, and can trace it back generations." He waved an arm out over the scene before them. "But you started somewhere, born of another. You have a family, a home, which awaits your return. This is why I have two goals in this war, Rosemond. The first is to stand and fight, and see to it that we are the impenetrable shield between the Dravanian threat and Her peoples." He raised his chin. "...The second, is to see all such soldiers returned to their families. Their homes. Their lives... where they ought to be. Where this war steals them from. Some for moons. Some for turns... Some... forever more."

The emotion of his words washed over Esredes like a tide retreating too quickly. It didn't settle in beneath the skin, and he felt lost. All he could do was frown. "I... I see, Ser. That is... very noble and good of you. I... hope to be like that, too."

"Tis not noble, son. But the wish of a husband, and a father." He said. "Forgive me my suddenness, but I do believe we have volunteers to aid in making supper. Oh-and give Captain Bishop my regards, yes?"

"I- yes, ser!" Esredes said as the Captain headed out with that. And so Esredes went back to his tasks.

But that would not be the last Esredes saw of that Captain. Not at all. It was when Esredes had become a squire that he returned in the winter, very suddenly, behind Esredes just as he was cleaning his armor with a simple "Rosemond." And it sounded like it was coated over with malice. "Full glad am I to see you taking so well to your duties. Got a headstart on cleaning your amor have you?"

Esredes' blood had already turned to ice as he hobbled up to stand at attention. “Yes, Ser, I have.” He bowed his head. “I would not want to put it off.”

"That's good to hear you say, son. Good to hear you say. You know, it can be difficult, getting the hang of cleaning your armor. But it's a task best perfected early I'd like to think." He nodded. "So why not let the your fellows help you out? Get you nice and familiar with scrubbing that metal."

He put his foot forward, pressing it into the snow and sliding it aside to make a clearing. A shrill whistle followed and he stepped to the side, and suddenly one after the other every squire in the camp came forward and piled their armor up in front of Esredes. Esredes could do nothing but watch in shock as the pile grew and grew. Over twenty people had added to it. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Well!" Astor said when the pile finally stopped growing. "Looks to me like you've got your work cut out for you. But I've got high expectations of you, Rosemond. And I look forward to making sure all of those pieces are gleaming by the time you're done... wouldn't want anyone here having points docked on inspection tomorrow morn, would you?" The smile he gave Esredes was horrible. Oh so horrible, it made his stomach turn inside out.

He was going to be out here the rest of the day. But he was given a challenge, and he wouldn't back down from it. “Yes, Ser.” Was all he offered in acknowledgement. And then he scrubbed away at the armor. He scrubbed harder and harder, and in the end managed to finish by dinner, even though he was late. That was enough of a victory for him.

But sure enough, the next morning, the Captains' sollerets clinked across, followed by that shout of "Rosemond!" And Esredes tensed up. "You did good work, son. I'm impressed. Got the whole of the outpost looking spick and span! I think you've earned yourself a real assignment. What do you say, son?"

"What... what sort of real assignment, Ser?"

"Come now, look alive! I'm not going to bite your head off." The Captain laughed, but Esredes wasn't so sure.  "I'm trusting you to sweep the perimeter of the wall, son, make sure all is in order. "And another thing, I want you to pay close attention to the roads leading in and out of here, yes? We need those clear of any possible debris. Last thing we need is a supply cart getting caught on anything. Broom'll be by the gate. I made sure the boys set aside one just for you."

Esredes resisted the urge to narrow his eyes. Broom duty. Really?   He was tempted to ask how far out on the roads, but decided it was best not to get specific. "Very well, Ser." He offered.  How hard could it be to use a broom for this. He'd had to clean up his own messes to hide from his parents before. He started to turn, then realize he hadn't been dismissed and stiffened right back up to correct his position.

"Come now, Rosemond, where's that spark? If you're going to be out there you'd better be alert, at attention, aware of your surroundings! Or am I to find you half asleep at your post when a wyvern comes crashing through a wall? Did I say you were dismissed, Rosemond!?" He snapped. "But if you're so eager to get started, then maybe I should reward you for taking the initiative! While you're out there you can go ahead and count clearing the balistraria of any ice, as well as double checking our fortifications to your list of duties!" He stepped forward, closing in on the space between them both. "I do not want to see so much as a single pebble out of place! A splinter splitting from those blockades! Do you understand me!?"

“Yes Ser!” Esredes did not drop eye contact.

"That's more like it! Now get your arse out then and dont let me catch you back within these walls until you've made damn sure you are done! Dismissed!"

Esredes had tried to complete this task just as the one before. He snuck in to get a shovel, he began shoveling snow out by the path- but soon a storm brewed, and he found himself faced with a palisade coming down right on top of him. In that split second between being crushed or retreating into a hole for safety, he rushed into the hole and was sealed inside, trapped out in the cold. He tried to hack away at the wood with his sword, with his shovel, to even try and use his forbidden powers, but none of it worked to give him an escape. And it wasn't long after he passed out, woke up in the infirmary, and laid in bed after finishing supper feeling completely drained, that he appeared again.

"...Rosemond." His voice was hoarse as he peered down at him and pulled up a seat by his cot. "How are you feeling?"

Esredes tensed and sat up straight. "Better, Ser!"

"Easy there, son. You're still in recovery."

"...I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to get myself out, Ser. It- it will be different next time, I promise."

The Captain shook his head. "The only apologies here should be from myself, and the one responsible for distracting you and destabilizing the snow running about like that. My hope is that there won't be a next time. I'd hoped there wouldn't be a first time, frankly... But... what's happened has happened, and I can only thank Her and the staff here, along with your stubbornness, for keeping you with us..."

“I’m fine, Ser, really. Just… tired. I’m not here to fail, Ser. I handled it the best I could.”

"You might be, with time... but it isn't. Son, there's too much that could get a man killed out here... I should've never let one of those things be me." He bowed his head and took a breath. "And you've my humblest apologies for it." The man even made eye contact with Esredes, which he had started to grow to hate, even though his sharp gaze had softened considerably. "You handled yourself well out there. A lesser man would've panicked, stuck on the spot. Nobody can blame you for wanting some shuteye after it all." He pressed his hands to his knees and grunted as he stood. "You'd better get plenty of it. You aren't leaving here until those healers give you a clean bill of health, you hear?"

“Yes, Ser.” Esredes said. “I will rest. You have my word.” He was impressed. He was impressed! These last two horrible days had been worth something after all, and he wouldn’t be sent home.

He didn't see that Captain again until three years later, when he was a recently promoted Sergeant, when just as before, the clink of armor came up behind him. "Esredes Rosemond... Sergeant Esredes Rosemond from what I hear." The voice gave a deep, mirthful laugh. "Congratulations Ser, and might I say, impressive work, given the tales that've been told even in my neck of the woods."

"Captain." Esredes rose from his seat and gave him a much more practiced salute.

"At ease, son. My, it's been too long. You've come far since we last saw one another." Of course he had, Esredes thought as he clasped his hands behind himself and smiled. That was what rank got him, didn't it? To be look at instead of down upon by people like him? “I assure you, the tales are most likely exaggerated. It was others who did most of the work.”

"Oh please, no need to be so humble- unless my ears have finally begun to fail me and I've misheard how you took down a man before he could escape due justice?" Well yes, that had happened. But it wasn't so grand and dramatic, so he thought. "You ought to be proud, Sergeant. Your family must be, given how well you've taken to this. We could use more men liek you, frankly. Who aren't afraid to get the work that needs doing, done. Though if i may, I would like to steal you away from yours if but for a moment. As there is something I would discuss regarding a... another matter."

(more later!)

[jefarawol]

There was nothing more to do in that moment, we all needed to rest. I asked in the spirit of my continued support to see Aurvael and Leofard took me too him. He hadn't lied when he said Aurvael had been injured, I could see he was covered in bandages, and he struggled to turn or stand when I got to him.

I was grateful to see he was at least being taken care of, by Leofard's second mate, an elezen lady called Lenne. Aurvael was surprisingly comfortable in her company, and didn't seem to be disturbed by the fact he was a captive. It wasn't until he asked what I was doing here, that I realized that Aurvael was completely unaware of the fact he was a prisoner at this point or that we had stumbled into a dangerous adventure. After shooting a glare at Leofard, the szemét had of course played on my good nature, I kept quiet. I promised that once my business with Leofard was done we would return to Ishgard together. Until then he should remain and continue healing.

Lenne was eager to join the next adventure, but neither Leofard or Cait Sith could agree on a course of action. Diabolos' minions had been seen flying through the skies. But it was unclear where they were going and why. While they argued, I asked what other work could be done and the captain sent me packing to look for Utata who had been troubled over the loss of her device.

[meowww-ffxiv]

Hilarious too that Liios's biggest fear was that someone realized he had some shit going on. Like what if they realized there was something Wrong with him?

But he was genuinely, genuinely just an average guy who's nice and earnest. If he hadn't been yanked around on the chain of destiny by Hydaelyn and sundry, Liios would just be in the Manufactory of Ishgard right at this moment making,,,, idk. The first industrial-scale bread slicer so we can make sliced bread a real invention in Eorzea soon. Or a proper cold storage so the Ishgardian rich ladies could start making those awful, awful 1800s jello recipes.

He confessed to his brother like, I'm scared they'll discover I'm a freak. And Ptolemy just showed him the picture of a moogle with fangs and horns and a kid's scribbled note on it saying "Welcome to my twisted mind >:)"

and said, "Is this an accurate reflection of your psyche?"

Family can really just destroy you on levels you never before imagined. In 1 word and 1 picture.

(once the dust has settled)

Ptolemy: I suppose my question is, what do you think is so frightening about yourself that you do not want others to see?

Liios: ...Does smiling come naturally to you?

Ptolemy: Uh. What.

Liios: There was a paper published on the possible effects of one's facial expressions on those around them. While sometimes it's inappropriate to smile, the author stated that in some situations, smiling can reduce the anxiety and stress of the person who is perceiving it.

Liios: It was very old, of course. Perhaps even disproven by now, not that I've checked. I read it while trying to learn Sharlayan script when we first moved there. And smiling really kept the wheedling worriers off my back. They stopped asking stupid shit like, "How are you today?" and "Can I help you with anything?" when they and I knew full well there was nothing to be done and I feel wretched every day.

Liios: It's worked. Confidence and a bit of friendliness and smiling keep people out of my hair. And you're right, I do like the sound of my own voice. It sounds like yours, while being mine. But now people are too expectant of this facade. No one wants to perform the same bit every time he appears in public. And it's been a bit for seventy long, long years.

Ptolemy: So you put on a show of an upbeat attitude to keep people out of your business, because -- and it is true -- that you have always been intensely private about all your hurts.

Liios: Lame, isn't it? I should've been an arsehole from the start and none of this would have happened.

Ptolemy: You fished for half a day to throw all your catches to a polar bear with cubs because Father told you that usually only one cub would survive to adulthood. If you had it in you to be an arshole, it wouldn't have been your first choice to be nice instead.

Liios: Nooo not the polar bear incident. Don't bring that up.

Ptolemy: What about the time when you healed a snow leopard instead of shooting it dead, only for it to almost maul you?

Liios: I felt bad for it. We had just brought down a mammoth, so the clan was lacking for neither meat nor hide, and thus we need not kill it. But to leave it to a slow, lamed death...

Ptolemy: I would have killed that snow leopard, you know. It could have gotten you a nicer scarf. Anyway, you weren't going to be anything but nice from the start. Ruthless, perhaps, and all of us act in terrible ways when we are angry. I don't think there is anything inauthentic about your usual attitude. You just don't have to worry about me keeling over every second of every day anymore. And if you're tired of being nice, there's always Seal Rock.

Liios: That's true. 🤔

[the-rogue-mockingjay]

'Tis never easy to lose the ones we love.

A scene from a fic I haven't been able to write yet, in which the gang gets together to discuss Krile and Y'shtola's warnings about the risks of even attempting to save a Nidhogg-possessed Estinien and the likelihood that one way or another, Estinien will die. It gets...a little heated when Emrys reminds everyone what Estinien would wish.

A lil breakdown of who's who:

Emrys of the Darkened Steel is the Viera gunbreaker;

Félicienne Greystone is the woman in white drachen armor;

Ysera Rowan is the Viera dragoon;

Asha Alaqa Sagahl is the Xaela warrior;

Rian Ashbrooke is the hyur paladin;

Merethe de Sofinoy is the elezen black mage standing beside Rian;

Aurélien de Sofinoy is the machinist leaning on the railing;

and Marielle de Dzemael is the reaper perched on the railing.

Their opinions re: can Estinien be saved are below the cut :>

(Big thank you to Azia, whose gpose tips + knowledge helped make this possible! ❤️)

Alphinaud and O'ravi, of course, will stop at nothing to save their friend, no matter the risks or how slim the odds of success; there's been too much loss lately, too many lives sacrificed for the cause. Moenbryda, Haurchefant, Ysayle, Minfilia- they've had enough of it. No more. They'll save Estinien or die trying.

But many of the others have reservations. Not knowing when or where Nidhogg will strike next, and with no way to know how much longer Estinien's soul will survive- the fact that his soul has survived at all was a surprise to Krile and Y'shtola, and they don't seem to believe that there's any way to save him. But the whole thing is uncharted territory. Ascian possession is a pretty well-known phenomenon, but I daresay this is the first time a dead member of the First Brood has possessed anyone! Merethe is lost in thought pondering how it works and what the differences are between Ascian possession and great wyrm possession.

Emrys and Rian want to try to save him, at least, but they're afraid of what could go wrong, especially since the city is a horrible battleground with the potential for astronomical collateral damage. How much are they willing to risk or sacrifice for just a chance at saving one man? Is the possible survival of one man worth the deaths of a dozen others? Two dozen, more? That is what Rian struggles with. He wants nothing more than to draw the line in the sand, as O'ravi and Alphinaud did - no more loss, no more sacrifice, to hells with the cause and to hells with duty - but...he cannot, in good conscience, do so. Not when there's no guarantee that Alphinaud's plan to tear off the Eyes will even work.

Aurélien, too, has been counting the cost. He's seen the destruction wrought by the Horde firsthand, he's lost track of how many times he's run to whatever part of the city got the worst of it to help the survivors. And while he doesn't want Estinien dead, he believes that the price of his possible salvation will be too high. No, he believes to even attempt to save him would be unwise.

Aymeric has already proven his willingness to kill Estinien if it comes down to it. His oath to protect Ishgard comes before all else: his life, or the life of his dearest friend included. He doesn't dare to hope for Estinien's salvation. Neither does Marielle. The odds of success are so low, she believes they should simply kill Estinien and be done with it. She won't admit how something in her heart breaks at the thought, however.

Félicienne is among the cynics. She's known Estinien for a long time, but she is a dragoon as well, and she will not hesitate to deal the killing blow if the situation gets out of control. And unlike Aymeric, she could live with that (though she would go to her grave wishing it hadn't been necessary).

Ysera is also a dragoon, she even shared the title of Azure Dragoon with Estinien for a time, but...if it comes down to it, can she kill him? Is she prepared to kill him to fulfill the promise she made to defend Ishgard? Knowing it's what he'd want her to do doesn't change the facts, which are: the answer is likely no.

Asha isn't certain what to make of all this. There's too much they don't know, too many variables and factors at play. Quite frankly, she'd prefer to hunt Nidhogg down and confront him much like they did the first time, but he's proven to be more elusive than anticipated. And if they did set out to hunt him together, it would mean leaving Aymeric and the Temple Knights to defend the city unaided should Nidhogg or his Horde attack while they were away. The lack of an easy answer frustrates her. Additionally, she's monitoring everyone's emotional states and trying to prevent the tension in the air from escalating. Many of the group are hiding their true feelings, and this has not escaped her notice.

[keicordelle]

The Daily Inconveniences of an Au Ra: Dancing

The unfamiliar melody slinked through Keshet's ears. Dozens of bodies spun on the open floor before him, skirts twirling and jewels flashing as the nobility of Ishgard showed off their finest dancing skills in one of their ever ubiquitous and eternally frustrating balls.

Frustrating because someone always wanted to dance with Keshet. Usually several someones these days, now that he'd been here a little while and people had started to take notice of him. He was an oddity if nothing else, and his placement in the Fortemps household attracted attention even if he wasn't universally beloved as the Warrior of Light here. So he spent most of his time fending off invitation after invitation to dance, hanging as close as he possibly could to the glass-lined walls and ensuring he had a drink or some little duck-liver-adorned cracker in his hand at all times so he had an excuse to wave them off.

It wasn't that he couldn't dance. He wasn't the best at it, but neither was he known to make a fool of himself when the occasion called for it. It was just that this, this slow twirling and sweeping gestures and impossibly coordinated exchanges... This wasn't dancing. This was... Well, he wasn't sure what it was, exactly. War, insofar as he could tell, based on the terse smiles and thinly veiled barbs he'd seen tossed around the ballroom tonight.

He supposed there was some grace to the flowing motions that seemed fairly commonplace on the dance floor. It was elegant, in the way that Ishgardians liked to pretend to be. Some of the couples had even genuinely impressed him. Aymeric seemed to float across the ground when he danced, large, sweeping steps carrying him through the twisting bodies around him without ever breaking his posture. Even Keshet would be hard-pressed to match those strides, and he had another half fulm of leg on the man.

But for the most part, it was insufferably boring. The black suited servants drifting around with trays of tiny food were by far the highlight of these evenings, even if their snacks were scarcely more than half a mouthful. And there was alcohol, which made the evening both more bearable and less, because it had the unfortunate tendency to leave his head split open and throbbing come morning.

And yet somehow he kept finding himself at these things, visible reluctance or no. Alphinaud was supposed to be chaperoning him, but the boy had twice as many invitations to dance as Keshet did, and he didn't seem to be able to turn them down. Keshet hadn't seen him since some shorter-eared woman had invited him onto the dance floor some two bells prior.

"Come now, my friend! Don't look so put out!" Keshet managed to wipe the grimace off his face before he looked up to meet Haurchefant's gaze. The implacable Elezen was alone, and nary a drink in his hand. That boded ill. "What say you to a dance? I know 'tis not your favorite pastime, but if you spend all your time making friends with the walls, then people are going to start thinking you antisocial."

Honestly Keshet didn't see what the problem was with being seen as antisocial, but experience told him he wasn't likely to get away from Haurchefant's prodding until he gave in. Better get it over with sooner rather than later. "One dance," he declared sternly.

Haurchefant wasn't fazed. "I wouldn't dream of imposing on you further."

They both knew that was a lie, but Keshet took his hand anyway and let him lead him out onto the dance floor. Excitable whispers followed them, and Keshet did his best to tune them out. Better he just focus on the placement of his feet anyway.

The music started, and their dance started with it. It was a livelier piece, thank Nhaama — even if that meant Haurchefant's steps moved quicker than Keshet could comfortably keep up with. But for the first time all night, he could feel the pulse of the music beating through his chest, and his body itched to move with it. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend he was alone on the Steppe, just him and the music under Nhaama's brilliant moon.

When he was asked about it later (and he would be asked about it later, frequently and at length) Keshet could only say that his body moved on its own. It wasn't his decision to stray from the elegant home that Haurchefant had on him. It certainly wasn't his decision to shift from the sweeping steps of a fumbling Ishgardian waltz into the curt motions of a traditional Steppe lunar dance. And it most absolutely was not his intention to crash into the couple dancing three yalms back from them, knocking the woman to the floor and spilling champagne all over her dress.

But on the plus side, no one asked him to attend any balls after that.

-

Read the rest of the series on Ao3!

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[yzeltia]

The Wedding

Part: Y'zel Characters: Y'zel Tia, Y'shtola Rhul, Y'mhitra Rhul, @driftward 's Zoissette Vauban, Lady de Ouraux, Leonnioux de Ouraux, Salah Nbolo, Deleh Nbolo, Sassi Nbolo, Saru Nbolo, Keith Summers, Khloe, G'khenna Summers Rating: T for Melancholia Notes: 6.3 Spoilers

A lie in silver. Not the ring, but the hairpin. An attempt made to be bonded for that day forward, stained by blood and a lost year of what could only be assumed as torture upon torture. This time would be different. The groom was across the estate, in his room with his men. The world was at peace, at the very least Eorzea was. History could not repeat itself…and yet despite knowing so, the hairpin was found wet with tears.

“Is something amiss? Or have you been inundated by all the pomp and circumstance one could muster between here and home?”

Y’zel jumped as he found Y’shtola standing over him, looking quite unamused. He wiped his eyes before he stood, setting the old trinket aside before standing to let her adjust his tie.

“I was thinking of U’noloh, a bit.”

“Leonnioux is fine. Everything will be fine.”

“I know that. It’s just, I can’t help but feel something is going to go wrong?”

Y’mhitra cut in, shooing Y’shtola away as she started to play with Y’zel’s hair, making him turn to face the mirror. “As your maid of honor, I’ve ensured every detail has gone over. Short of the Final Days repeating itself, nothing will stop this wedding.”

“Come Mhitra, I don’t think you’ll be beaten down the aisle thrice over unless my research heats up quite a bit faster.”

Y’zel looked to his elder cousin then to Zoissette in the back who seemed to be fussing with the dress Y’shtola had picked out for her. He smiled lightly then let his attention return to the mirror, staring at himself. Even as G’khenna came in with Khloe in tow, he did little more than glance into the mirror to see them start to jump in front of her.

“Ser Vauban, could you please help me put on make-up! My daddies said it was okay but they don’t know how. Only daddy Raha can! And he only knows how to do mascara!”

“Khloe too! Khloe too!”

“Me? I’m, uhm, I am not sure why I should get this honor? Would you not prefer the lovely Archon Y’shtola or Lady Y’mhitra?”

“Daddy says Miss Y’shtola cakes it on too much to hide her scowling lines,” G’khenna answered.

“And which of your Daddies might that have been,” the Archon asked brusquely while her sister giggled madly behind her.

Chasing in after the girls, Keith stumbled in, met Y'shtola's eyes, then backed out of the room. Y'zel sighed then wandered out of Y'mhitra's grasp.

"I need air," he said before letting himself onto the balcony, closing the doors behind him.

Exhaling, he closed his eyes, letting his breath fog in the freezing air. He hadn't expected the wedding to get so out of hand, especially with dismal turnout of his first attempted union. Inhaling, he wandered to the balcony's edge and held on tight, looking out across Ishgard.

"Would you like a glass of Merlot dear?"

Y'zel jumped, tail and ears hiking high as his bemused soon-to-be mother in law shook an empty wine glass at him from her side of the balcony. In his wedding gown, the Miqo'te curtsied, finding it a bit easier than bowing proper.

"Thank you, Mother Ouraux."

"Just Mother will do. Come, sit," the woman ordered as she poured, "Please relax dear, Leo isn't going anywhere."

"I…I'm not worried about that. I feel overwhelmed is all. Something doesn't feel quite right," the bride explained as he took the wine and drank deep.

"Between the Ouraux and Nbolo coffers and your younger cousin, in charge of it all, I doubt you'll find anything to worry over," she assured him before standing.

Y'zel perked his ears as she passed behind him, draping a fine silver necklace about his neck. He swallowed, arching his head back before getting a small peck on his forehead.

"Mother Ouraux?"

"A snowpea necklace. A tradition from my family for good luck for the bride to be from their mothers."

Y'zel clutched the trinket gently, ears folding a bit. "I'm not exactly a traditional bride."

"But the bride I've been prepared for since you were both lads pretending to be Templar Knights."

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh Zel dear, anyone with eyes could see how Leo fancied you. Butler and I knew very well his intentions upon you from the start. He'd carry on and on about you after school. Lord Ouraux himself was absolutely giddy with delight that our son's affection for would likely get your late father's suspicions off him. If you'd have come around sooner perhaps his little plan would have worked."

Y'zel swallowed. Lady Ouraux seemed content with the circumstances that had led to her husband's arrest and eventual sentencing for his part in the chocoblight. He'd long worried how much was an act on her part, but her continuing affection over the recent days had almost assuaged any guilt on his part.

"It's hard to imagine Lord Ouraux approving of such a thing."

"Well, his inclinations were to have you at Leo's side as a retainer and marry him off after; however, Butler and I knew better. My son would not settle for anything less than to have you. Lord Ouraux would have, of course, caved. He loved little Leo more than anything. Perhaps his only regret is his part in unwittingly seeing you removed from Ishgard."

"I see…though, I don't think anyone counted on my Seeker's heart."

"You are quite determined to be a villain of some sort in my eyes. Zel, dear, I assure you that I have and will continue to love you as a son. Fury and Maiden know my heart has had its share of atypical endeavors.

"Now then. You're dressed and your aunties have prepared a light meal to keep you from letting your nerves get to you. Up you go. Come on now.”

Y'zel jumped as he was bade to return to the dressing room, quickly finishing his wine before his departure. Returning to his half of the party, he gave a light smile, touching the gift around his neck as he looked on to his cousins observing Zoissette trying to teach the two Miqo'te flower girls how to powder, more stuck on the importance of matching shades and the production of the pigments than practical application. He then excused himself to the kitchens, moving into the hall and toward the grand staircase. Looking down the other wing, he spotted his groom, in a tight embrace with Butler, both men awash in tears. His ears perked to listen, but thought it best just to not intrude and ask later.

Greeting the aunties in the kitchen, he was promptly sat down and given a large bowl of plain oats and a slice of archon loaf.

"It took all of Sasi's will power not to toss these in a bin," Sahla hummed.

"And they say Old Sharlayan is where taste goes to die. Ishgard did you dirty long before I could teach you what real cooking is like,' Sasi yelled from deeper in the kitchen.

"Thank you auntie," Y'zel sighed before eating quietly, "Where are the twins?"

"Bullying the groom to be no doubt. They insisted on being groomsmen."

Y'zel frowned, "Did you want to stand with us too? I'm sorry. I didn't think-"

"Oh no. We're all far too old to be maids" Salah laughed.

"Speak for yourself. I'm a young vibrant twenty-nine," Deleh interjected as she joined them, apron coated in flour.

"So strange that you're not a year older than our sweet baby nephew," Salah hummed.

Y'zel choked down a laugh as his elder aunt flattened her ears and thrashed her tail. Attention returning to the bride, she smiled, "Can you believe it? Me? In the kitchen making hors 'd'oeuvres like a common maiden. Anything though for my darling nephew. Though don't expect this for the researcher or the rogue as well. The Ivory Chapel will have to suffice."

"Common house maiden," Sasi huffed, smacking her wooden spoon on the table, "This common house maiden would like to have her dear, older, sister back in the kitchen before the things she was working on go up in flames."

Deleh glowered then turned heel, marching back to man the oven with Sasi close behind, leaving Sahla and Y'zel to talk. The remaining aunt offered her increasingly inundated nephew a smile, stroking one of his ears affectionately

"You look so much like your mother. She'd think you a mix of beautiful and handsome and be happier than I can put into words of the Miqo'te you've become."

"Rrreally?"

Salah nodded, "She too was a bit nervous on her wedding day. Both the Jaguar Tribe and Nbolos all in one spot. She wasn't much for large crowds, but of course Deleh was her bridesmaid and Y'lem was no less fussy than her. But when she was on stage with your father, she looked so in love. They both did…"

Y'zel smiled softly, pushing the picked bowl of oats away. Looking to a chronometer, he stood then headed for the door. "I'm going to head to the cathedral."

"Right then. We'll see you there," his aunt cooed.

And so he made his way from the estate and up the high bridge toward his destination. Entering the cathedral, he was greeted by his Granny Saru; however, whatever words she had for him fell in deaf ears as he entered the chapel. Even now as a grown adult, the statue of Halone seemed larger than life. Kneeling down, he kissed his grandmother's cheek then moved to the stairway to wait. 

As people filed in, he searched for Claudien, ambivalent as his bridesmaids filed in front of him by height. Without the researcher, the music started and his attention pulled to his husband to be.

Descending the staircase, the two met before the priest and took one another's hands while their wedding party moved to stand behind them.

"Is everything okay," Leonnioux asked softly.

"Yes. Sorry," Y'zel answered, smiling back.

"I am worried for him too. I sent my retainers this morning. For now, spare yourself worry. For me?"

Y'zel nodded, pushing Claudien to the back of his mind, for now. The ceremony lingered on. People were made to stand, kneel, and sit over and over in reverence to the Fury as the Enchiridion was read and sang from until the couple was allowed to speak their vows.

"Right then. I'd say…most everyone that saw us when we were boys knew that I was in love with you well before I did. There are, so many things I regret saying and doing trying to get your attention. I wanted to be your white knight rescuing you from your circumstances…and it was when I had lost you completely that I perhaps needed you to pull me from mine. Fury knows that I mourned you when the calamity came, and rejoiced when we were brought together again.

When we were reunited, I was heartbroken to find you didn't remember me as fondly or rather at all…and you were taken up with, now my best friend and would be best man, er, if he hadn’t been otherwise detained today.. And then on Starlight you came to me and I was overjoyed. While I didn't expect this relationship for myself, I am happy in it. Happy to see you loved. Happy that you've indulged my painfully Ishgardian ways. And happy to be united before Halone and all our friends and loved ones. By the Fury and light of the Moon, I pledge myself to thee."

Y'zel swallowed, looking to the crowd then back to Leonnioux before offering his hand for the ring. Palm to his chest, he looked at his fiance and smiled.

"It is true. We got off to an icey start. Yet, looking back I know your actions came from a place of love. And despite my grumblings, you occupied such a big part of my heart. You were persistent in trying to be my friend when I pushed all else away. I-"

Y'zel's ears perked a moment.

"I ask the Kami to bless our union," he heard his voice echo in his ears.

Leonnioux stared, brow raised before kissing Y'zel's forehead. The Miqo'te swallowed, looking around for a moment before blushing.

"Apologies. I mean to say…by the Fury and the light of the moon I pledge myself to thee and take the name Ouraux."

Y'zel took Leon's ring then slipped it on his long finger. Unprompted, they kissed and let the crowd applaud their union as they stepped down from the altar and kneeled before the Fury then made their exit.

In the hall, Y'zel exhaled hard then turned to put himself in Leon's embrace. The Elezen smiled, stroking down the back of the other's head.

"Come, let's get a head start. I imagine we'll have little time to eat before paraded about for the rest of the evening," the man cooed to the Miqo'te before starting out of the cathedral.

"Leonnioux…," Y'zel started, frozen as he avoided his gaze, "I'm…"

"No apologies. I know your heart. Come, maybe there is word for you about him."

Y'zel nodded then followed, holding the other's arm with a small purr. As predicted, they barely had time to sample their hors 'd'oeuvres before being pulled about, greeting everyone and talking. On occasion Leonnioux would give Y'zel a slight hand squeeze or kiss to bring about his focus, and yet he wound up drifting on. Eventually getting a break, Y'shtola dragged him aside with Zoissette while others gathered around a table to listen to someone's story.

"You're scattered. Even more so than to be expected," his cousin asked.

"We're…er, we are a little worried Zel," Zoissette said, towering behind Y'shtola nervously.

"It's Claudien. He didn't make it. This was all his idea…and yet I fear he couldn't handle it in the end…And then during the ceremony I had the strangest Echo…like I'd done this all before…I…"

Y'zel clutched his chest before moving to push out onto the balcony, leaning over the edge as he gasped for air. Y'shtola let Zoissette do the back petting.

"There is little you can do about your other beau missing. Focus on your husband that's present. I did warn you about researchers…"

Y'zel folded his ears while Zoissette offered a forced smile. Lifting up, he turned then leaned against the stone railing.

"You're right…I should…," he said before finding Leonnioux emerging from the reception to join them.

Y'shtola and Zoissette made their way inside as Leonnioux handed a paper over, a soft smile on his face.

"I received word. Claudien is well, but poor aetheric currents are likely keeping him from returning to us. As such, he said he'd send for you after our honeymoon. Does this ease your anxiety?"

Y'zel held himself then nodded before walking into the other's arms. 

"I want to dance…and to eat cake…aot of cake," Y'zel mumbled, nodding.

"Right. We'll get cake in you then move to the floor together and dance until I have to carry you off the floor."

"Thank you…for all this today…," he mumbled gratefully.

"Of course my love…come. Let's go inside…I think I should introduce you to your father-in-law properly…"

Y'zel blinked, tilting his head before following the other inside curiously. As promised, he had his fill of cake and then danced with Leonnioux, friends, and family well into the early hours. It was enough to distract him from the sense of dread…and enough to drown the sinister, ancient laugh of a woman at the back of his mind…for now.

[aerialsquid]

FFXIVWrite 2023 Day 19: Weal

Day 19: Weal

Old man yaoi now with in-laws. According to my googlings, 'Weal' can both mean a patch of scar tissue or injury and be an older term for wealth or prosperity. Love me some double meanings.

The brig below was empty, cleared of both cargo and people. Likely all the prisoners had been moved over to the Misery, save this one, who Carvallain's men hadn't thought fit even to touch his ship.��

Charlemend stood with his fingers clutching the metal criss-cross of his cell, shoulders hunched on himself. The dark bruise from where Charlemend was struck by the captain was still stark against his cheek, and his flowered shirt was torn and stained.  Edmont had never seen the man look more despondent, not until the sound of footsteps turned Charlemend's head and his ruddy face lit up like light through a gemstone.

"Edmont! By Halone, Edmont–" His hand shot out to try and reach for him. Edmont stumbled down the stairs to rush to his side, nearly tumbling into the bars. Charlemend grabbed his thin shirt and pulled him close, face pressed to his cheek. "I woke up and you were gone, and they wouldn't tell me where you went," he said, his breath coming in short pained jerks. "I thought they'd-they'd done something to you and I couldn't bear–"

"It's all right." Edmont rested his hand on the back of Charlemend's head, stroking his thinning orange hair. "I've been quite safe. We're both safe now." Never mind if the pirates were staring. They were both far, far too tired to care about propriety, in that wave of exhaustion that often followed a state of panic. Two years of peace had almost been enough to make Edmont forget that familiar pattern.

Charlemend's head rose again, perhaps to speak some demand for release to the pirates, but he stopped dead with his mouth open. Edmont didn't need to turn around to know why. His arms gently slid back from Charlemend's shoulders, hand staying against his arm to steady him.

"I knew it," Charlemend whispered, his voice a bare rasp. "All this time, I knew it. I felt it in my soul, that you were alive somewhere. But why…" Tears were beginning to form at his eyes, though they did not yet fall. Perhaps if he had been less tired, less scared, he might not have wept - Edmont suspected different.

"Why am I here?" Carvallain asked sharply. Edmont squeezed Charlemend's arm in silent support. (I am here. This will be brutal, but you will weather the storm.)

"I'm here because this is my ship and my crew," Carvallain continued, taking slow steps down the stairs into the brig. "An empire that I earned with the sweat of my brow and the labor of my hands, not some inheritance dropped in my lap that I could lord over others."

"You're–a pirate?" Charlemend asked, voice cracking in confusion.

"Aye! And I'm a damned good one!" Carvallain threw his shoulders back and let the overlarge coat fall to the ground, exposing the body Edmont had seen in bare glimpses during the battle. Tattoos old and new ran up his arms and across his belly, mingling and intertwining with long white scars from past battles. 

"I fought at Carteneau Flats during the Calamity." Carvallain tapped the circle wreathed in flame. "I've crossed the Meridian Line and set foot on the other side of the world." A serpent coiled around his forearm, spitting water from its mouth - the primordial snake of Lymlaen, Edmont figured. "I've seen Leviathan with my own eyes, which is one more god than most of Ishgard's ever come across, and I've taken his children's heads for it." Two fingers to the Sahagin head on his arm that had been promised to Novv.

Some of the tattoos were weathered and clearly done by amateurs,  their shapes barely coherent blobs of patchy ink on his skin. Those of the Kraken's tentacles, creeping over his shoulders from the back, were far sharper and more detailed. When Carvallain half-turned to show the piece off, Edmont noticed a few of the tendrils were clutching coins, while others held broken gold chains.

And one, the very smallest, down by Carvallain's hip where the sagging captain's trousers let it peek above his waistline, was clearly holding the cracked half of a bell.

A piece like that had to be done by a master craftsman, and must have taken ages to complete. A decent pile of gil, too. 

Charlemend, of course, wasn't looking at any of the tattoos. His eyes were set fast on his son's face, as if trying to fix it fast in his mind.

"But…why?" he finally managed.

"Why? Because I sat down and I looked at my future and all I saw was becoming something like you, tied to those cold halls and pointless legacy, wrapped up in pointless social shite. I wanted my freedom and by the Navigator's perky tits I grabbed it with both hands, didn't I?" He was shouting, but all Charlemend could manage was a timid whisper, and somehow that seemed to get Carvallain even angrier. "I've seen more, done more, than any Lord of Ishgard ever has and I don't regret a damned moment of it.

Twenty-odd years anticipating a fight must have built up Charlemend to something as grand as King Thordan's Primal in Carvallain's head, and instead all he had was an old man shivering in a cell, eyes wet, arm clasped by a second old man who had to stand on one leg not to fall over. Carvallain stepped forward, the better to shout in Charlemend's face. "I don't want your bloody high house, I don't want your lordly legacy, and quite honestly at this point I probably have more money than you, and made far more honestly."

He might have said more, save for the mistake of getting within grabbing range. Charlemend's arm shot forward and he grabbed his son, pulling him in for a tight embrace. Carvallain could have broken it easily, with those tattooed arms so used to swinging a warrior's axe. Instead, he froze like a gazelle in lamplight.

Charlemend let out a few pitiful noises against Carvallain's chest before he could manage a gasping, "I am so, so sorry."

"Wh–good gods, old man, what are you–"

"I should never have–you shouldn't have had to–I'm sorry–" The sobs took his words away. "I knew it was my fault, I knew, but you were gone and I couldn't say–I couldn't—"

"You're making a bloody scene, you know," Carvallain grumbled, but despite himself let one arm curl around to rest on Charlemend's lower back and pat it.

Blutwyn, who had clearly been hoping for a more dramatic fight and now was just standing around awkwardly in the stairwell, slipped over to unlock the cell. Charlemend could barely bring himself to let Carvallain go long enough to walk around to the outside of it, whereupon he threw himself back into his son's arms again. His face was a streaming mess, and he accepted Edmont's handkerchief with a look of gratitude, though he still couldn't manage words.

"Good gods, old man." Carvallain, for all that he rolled his eyes and mocked Charlemend's lack of noble bearing under his breath, was holding his father just as tightly. He turned backward to Blutwyn and muttered, "Tell the lads to make ready and stand fast, ey? This'll be a bit. Fortemps, you tell Novv's lads the same."

"Aye, sir."

"Of course."

The implicit message: *Give us a bit of privacy.* 

The last thing Edmont heard as he followed Blutwyn back up to the deck was Charlemend, forcing words through his hitching wet gasps. "I knew you'd become something great. Didn't expect how, but–but I knew."

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

grumpy love

CW: Traumatic injury, mention of disability.

(This is more or less my first time I'm writing out something like this, and I've tried my best as possible to be respectful of such injuries.)

Set shortly after the events of wayward (grand)daughter 5

While waiting for his new leg in Ishgard, Mathye offers his own brand of grumpy love to a Knight-Dragoon trainee who's on the prosthetic list.

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When he'd woken up that morning, Jermayan could honestly say that he hadn't been expecting to be in his current situation. He hadn't bathed for a while--if the reek coming from his pits was any indication. He had roaming privileges outside of the Infirmary, and so the squire had made his way to the main locker rooms of the Knights Dragoon. The showers that had been designated for the trainees were broken (condoms in the pipes)--and so Jermayan had been given permission to use the senior dragoons' locker room. He'd hobbled in, stripped, made his way over to the designated shower--which he had to admit, was pretty nice. Non-slip mats, rails, adjustable shower heads, even fancy-smelling soap. There were two bathing chairs set up, and he'd claimed the first one. Everything was nice and quiet--which was honestly--what Jermayan wanted. The loss of his left leg was still raw--as was the fallout from his family and friends over his accident. Even the novelty of being in the seniors' washroom was dulled slightly.

And then the door slammed open. Jermayan's head had popped up and around, spotting Helgrim, the Knight-Dragoon Captain of House Fortemps. And the trio right behind him was enough to snap the trainee out of his malaise, and he could only stare--the towel he'd placed over his hips forgotten. Because right behind Helgrim had been Ser Reinhardt Sauveterre, Ser Augustine Bishop--two of the Saviors of Ishgard! And inbetween them had been Ser Mathye Bishop--

Who was leaning heavily on a cane, a short towel wrapped around his waist and slowly hobbling in...on his left leg. Of his right--at the mid thigh, there was nothing but metal. Jermayan's jaw dropped, and he stared.

He's...he's got a leg missing just like me!

"Healer Bishop." There was a shit-eating grin on Helgrim's face. "Shall I assist you to your throne?"

"In all seriousness however, do you?"

"Go fuck yourself." Mathye retorted, but there was an answering smirk on his face. Helgrim cackled, then sobered.

"He just needs to put the condom on." Reinhardt replied. There was dead silence in the washroom for several seconds, and then Helgrim started to snort, Augustine started to choke back laughter, and Mathye sighed, bowing his head.

"Do you have to call it the condom?" Augustine got out, coughing. Reinhardt grinned broadly, ducking away from the sudden swipes of the medic's hand.

"What else do we call it, then?"

"I'm going to fucking kill him. Come here!" Mathye continued to make grabby hands towards Reinhardt. Augustine expertly put his body inbetween his two brothers.

"Kill him after you're clean." He ordered. "Do you need help with the bag?" Mathye made another half-hearted swipe at Reinhardt, and then shifted his weight to his cane.

"I..." He looked around, spotting the other bathing chair. Jermayan was still staring.

"It looks like I'm good, there's the chair. Might need some help toweling off after the fact."

"We'll be outside." Reinhardt said. Helgrim nodded, gesturing to his hair--his normal braids were half undone, resulting in his jet-black hair puffing up from his head.

"I need to finish taking these out anyway." He said. Augustine in the meantime had produced the said bag--which Mathye took and slipped over the metal--a socket, Jermayan realized. The metal was nothing but a large socket that looked...vaguely Allagan-ish? He wasn't too sure, his studies on anything Allagan came from his schoolbooks. Skysteel had a partnership with the Ironworks for a lot of things, prosthetics being one of them.

"Go away." Mathye ordered. "Shoo. Let me bathe in peace."

"Yell if you need something." Augustine replied. With those words, he, Reinhardt, and Helgrim departed--leaving Mathye alone with the still gawking Jermayan. The squire shook his head as the ex-dragoon-turned-medic-holyshitoneoftheheroesofIshgardwasinthefuckingwashroomwithhim!!!-- made his way over to the second bathing chair.

I didn't know he was missing a leg!! How--and he's a Warrior of Light?! With a grunt, Mathye leaned on the cane again, removing his towel before he sat down.

"Something for you, hatchling?" He asked, reaching for one of the shower knobs. Jermayan started.

"You--you...hero!" He babbled. "You--you slew Nidhogg! You're the--you're the best healer in the city!"

"Debatable." Mathye countered. "On the healer part." He glanced over at Jermayan, old memories flicking though his mind as he assessed the younger man. Good shape, though a bit wan and thin from his hospital stay, there were the waterproof bandages around his left thigh--where the amputation had taken place.

He's had a plate full of shit handed to him. Helgrim had said. Lost his left leg in a voidsent attack, but he still wants to serve. Signed up for the rehabilitation program. But his family's the old guard--fucking disowned him for signing up for the prosthetic. Hit him really hard.

"Takes a little getting used to." Jermayan started as Mathye gestured to the bandages. "But you work the problem."

"I...I..." Jermayan breathed. His gaze dropped to the bag-wrapped socket that was the remains of Mathye's right thigh.

"Did...that hurt?" Mathye glanced down at the bag, and then back at the squire.

"It did. For a long time." He said. "Partly because I was a fucking moron and thought I was man enough to handle the pain. It took my brother and two good friends to knock some sense into me."

"Pain?" Jermayan asked.

"I kept the leg after the original injury. Worst decision ever made." Mathye was blunt. "There were some days I just couldn't get out of bed. With this..." He patted the bag. "It's a bitch when they reconnect the leg, but...about two, three weeks of pain out of the year is a lot better than pain for the entire year." Jermayan nodded, swallowing.

"My...folks." He ventured. "They said--I was committing a sin against Halone--"

"I'm going to stop you right there, because I'm a priest. Ordained, certified, what have you. Halone doesn't give a fuck if you get a new leg, or whatever you go off and do with it." Mathye interjected, his voice hard. "What's better under the eyes of the Fury? A solider in constant pain, unable to do anything, or a solider taking the help they need so that they can continue to serve under Her?" He snorted, and Jermayan swore he saw dragonfire flash in the medic's eyes. But something that had been knotted in the trainee's belly began to ease--if one of the Saviors--who were whispered to be Halone-blessed, said that it was alright...

"I want to fly again!" He blurted out. "I--I want to jump. They said--if I did it, I'll have to train again to get used to it all, but I want to jump! I want to fly, I want to work with the dragons! I know it's selfish but I--I'm still good! I'm still useful! They said--they said--" Hot tears rolled down his cheeks, and Jermayan realized with a shock that he was crying. He didn't want to cry, he shouldn't be crying--! But he couldn't stop for some reason--and then suddenly, there was a gentle hand on his back.

"Just because you're short a leg doesn't mean you're not useful." Mathye said gently. "You're still you. You still matter. You're just..." He paused, considering his words.

"...I'd say upgrading considering that you can do a hell of a lot more with the fake leg than with the real one, but that mostly consists of being able to take more punishment on that side and honestly when you break it in combat and have to get it fixed, depending on who your mechanic is, you're likely to have your head ripped off." He said wryly. That earned him a watery laugh.

"Worse than going to the healers?"

"You're going to get it from the mechanic and you're going to get it from the healer. I should know. I issue ass-kickings on somewhat of a regular basis here and I get new ones torn into me from the engineer who does my leg and the healers who work with me when I'm getting it maintenanced." Mathye made a face. Nero was the one making his new leg, which meant that he was now his engineer. Greeeaaattt.

"Here." He reached over to pick up a washcloth-and sniffed, there was that days-old-hospital smell coming from the kid. Probably had been served nothing but the basic crappy meals too. Jermayan jerked in surprise as Mathye used a twist of aether to turn on the shower, gurgling as the water hit him full blast.

"Guuccck!"

"Bathe." Mathye ordered, wetting the washcloth and smacking Jermayan on a shoulder for good measure with it. "Then I'll order you a meal plate from the kitchens. You'll feel a bit better once your skin is clean and you've got a proper full belly."