#I never write about her thaumaturge days do I

[starrysnowdrop]

Random Lili Headcanons

So I’m still so shocked at how well the Lili x Krile gposes were received!! I’m going to take a chunk of it as Krile hype (and rightfully so! Krile has been sidelined for far too long!), but I’m very happy that y’all seem to be curious about Lili as well! I’m still ironing out the details enough to write up a full profile (and I might make Lili her own sideblog for organizational purposes, but I haven’t decided yet), but I figured it was time to share some of my initial headcanons for her and where I think I’ll go with her story. This will be a random list of things that just pop into my head, so I apologize if I start to ramble a bit.

Lili is the name she likes to be called, but her full name is Lilika Lika, and it’s not only a canon compliment Dunesfolk name (unlike Hali, heh), but it’s also my little nod to Final Fantasy X, because I think it sounds similar to Kilika Island.

Lili’s pronouns are She/Her, she is cisgender, and a lesbian. She has had relations with men in her past when she was finding herself, but she came out as a lesbian when she was 20 years old.

She was born in Ul’dah and she is actually the distant cousin of Hali! Lili met Hali when Hali first arrived in Eorzea and looked up information on Nanani’s family (Nanani is Hali’s grandmother and Lili’s great aunt who left Ul’dah to marry her husband and live in Sharlayan).

Lili is descended from a prominent family whose members almost always become involved in the Order of Nald’thal, with many members also joining the Thaumaturge Guild. Lili tried her hand at Thaumaturgy but she found herself woefully unskilled in magic. Instead, she joined the Pugilist Guild and eventually trained in the techniques of the Ala Mhigan Monk.

I plan on Lili’s main canon job to be Monk from ARR-EW, but perhaps she trained briefly as a Samurai before she takes up the twin blades of a Viper for Dawntrail.

Unlike Hali who never believed in any forms of religion and only understands religion in an academic sense as a Sharlayan, Lili does believe in the Twelve and has her faith shaken by the events of the MSQ and of course the events of the Myths of the Realm raid series.

Lili has had several casual relationships, including a brief fling with Tataru during ARR and HW, but she never had any serious romantic feelings about someone until she met Krile.

I’m still working out a timeline of the Lili x Krile ship right now, but I’m thinking about them confessing their feelings and officially being in an exclusive relationship around Post ShB to Pre EW. Sometime in the 5.3-5.55 range. They get together before Hali and Aymeric do at least.

Lili is represented by opposing symbolism to Hali, and they are a duality of forces. Hali’s symbols are water, ice, darkness, night, stars, spring, etc. whereas Lili’s symbols are fire, light, day, sun, autumn, etc. Hali is a magic user and Lili is a melee fighter. Hali is extroverted and highly emotional while Lili is introverted, practical, and usually in control of her emotions.

That’s all I’ve got for now! I’ll be working on a full profile for Lili in the meantime, so please look forward to it! Any feedback is greatly appreciated! 🥰💖

[prince-of-khrysalis]

PINNED POST + CHARACTER LIST

Sebastian ◆ 20+ ◆: He/Him ◆ Local w101 and p101 enthusiast ◆ OC artist

Ladies, gentlemen, and others ◆ Welcome to my chaotic mess of a blog, where I post oc art and talk about said ocs as though they are actively haunting my life. Because they are. The wizard101 fixation will never leave, and all of my ocs are spiralverse! My collective w101 AU is called Sanguis Vita Est, or SVE if I’m in a time saving mood! Which is my gothic, psychological horror themed story about my stupid wizards. I love talking about it DEARLY, and I also love hearing about others writings and ocs, so don’t be shy, they can hold hands-//

GENERAL TAGS:

#my art - Where you can find all of my own artworks

#asks - Answered asks!

#my ocs - Any posts relating to my ocs, including art, asks, rambles

#reblogs - Lovely things that aren’t mine

OC TAGS AND LIST:

#Persephone Solanacaeae - My necromancer and against her will ‘Savior Of The Spiral’. A tiny, aggressive, Victorian gothic demon who is constantly suffering in some way shape or form, fighting god because dad said so is not exactly a stress-free experience. She does it anyway, though, because she isn’t certain she knows how to make any decisions for herself.  Please someone get her a restraining order from-

#Jacques Solanaceae - My main villain for my wizards. A Marleybonian Lord and psychiatrist who seems just a bit *too* fascinated with magic users and the psyches attached to them. Overall a huge control freak who’s too charming for his own good. Persephone’s father.

#Erinyx Solanaceae - Persephone’s alter! And a top-notch shadowmancer. Though not many know of her existence, she’s fine with that, thinking very highly of herself, and trying to follow in her mad scientist father’s footsteps.

#Denkichi Igarashi - My version of That One Schismist Solider turned into my own character! A spoiled, sheltered, rich heir from Mooshu who is NOT obsessed with the YW. Not. They did NOT join a cult just to get the chance to be around the YW. They didn’t. Shut up. She’s his mortal enemy you wouldn’t get it.

#Lilith Vita - My Theurgist! Who’s really bad at being one. She’s a boxer who paints in her free time and works part time as Khrysalisn royalty. Not by blood or anything, she staged a coup to try and get the attention of a girl she likes.

#Cordelia Ashdown - My pyromancer, a famous, unknown, uncaught Marleybonian criminal. No one really suspects the woman who’s pretty and polite, an unsocial moth, mute, and legally dead of doing anything wrong. You may have known her as Jack The Ripper in the papers. Jacques’ assistant. Unwillingly. She punches him at least once a day, though, so it's alright.

#Cerberus Delta - my conjurer! An anxious, neurotic mess of a boy. He graduated from Ravenwood, at what cost. He’s so stressed he may collapse any day, he can barely handle making eye contact and he’s a professional mercenary. He DOES have three kids to feed…

#Nazar Zenith - My sorcerer, known as “The Witchtrap”, in various magical circles around the spiral. She’s a perfectionist to a scary degree, willing to do ANYTHING to prove her worth as a wizard, including becoming an alchemical composite creature and trying to take out any talented wizards nearby. Jacques’ adoptive daughter.

#Oceania Zenith - A diviner… one of the best! Or at least, she was. And Nazar's big sister. Unfortunately.

#Skadi Einherjar - My Thaumaturge, a draugr risen from the dead for a second chance at life. But they don’t exactly know what to do with their Second Life Tm. Their emotions feel so cold and far away, why not just continue to be Jacques’ human shield?

#Alura Shard-Vita-Solanaceae - Jacques’ (current) wife, and Lilith’s older sister. A bit of an angel, quite literally, being a nephilim theurgist who genuinely just wants the best for everyone around her, to her benefit and detriment. She is… too kind for her own good, but she knows this.

#Naenia Blackthorne - A resurrected necromancer, saved so mercifully by none other than Jacques and given a ‘second’ chance at life. She’s a big undead now, perhaps her skin will forever hold a permanent blue tint and her eyes a bit hallow. But she’s so happy to be here! A Marleybonian mortician with a strange reputation… especially after showing back up AFTER her funeral.

[1shepherd7wanderers]

Lalapril Day 2: Guild

This caught up with me quickly haha I intended to do a bunch of screenshots of Hohoka exploring her first several guilds early in the story with a paragraph or two. I have the screenshots! But we're writing this as we go!

At the behest of Momodi, Hohoka wandered into the Thaumaturge guild. She was then directed by another Lalafellin woman to the five brothers who seem to run the guild together. Though she had prior knowledge of thaumaturgy, they would have her start fresh to teach their tenants they said.

The next day Hohoka ran into the man who helped her find her way upon arrival, Wymond. She walked up to him with hopes of paying him back somehow. All she got from him was a well-meaning snicker but then he stopped after a second. "Actually, there's something. Do me a favor an' take this missive to Josias at the Platinum Mirage." Hohoka smiled and nodded, running to the Pugilist Guild just down the way. After she passed over the letter to the man at the desk, she looked around her and was surprised to see how many Lalafell practiced here. Having grown up around taller races, she had never given any thought to learning a physical role - always believing those classes belonged to the stronger races. She sat and watched in awe, empowered by their shows of strength.

Once her first guild masters gave their permission to learn other jobs, she ran to the pugilist guild. She would quickly learn to punch and kick with the best of them, and she found she enjoyed it greatly.

She also decided to learn the sword, the other physical class available to her in Ul'dah. The sword was much more than she originally thought, it fell to her to protect her friends as well.

After the incident with Tristan, Hohoka needed a break. Something relaxing. She had always found peace at her mother's loom and so she made for the Weaver's guild. Soon after she would find the mining, goldsmithing, and alchemy guilds as well!

Her adventures continued with letters from General Raubahn in her pocket. But once her pockets were empty, she and her new friends, Aluette and Qih'tan, would show her around Gridania and most of it's guilds as well. Aluette was well known to many of the guilds: conjury, leatherworking, carpentry, and botany. Qih, who had recently arrived in Gridania himself, was very familiar with the Lancer's Guild.

Neither of them knew much about the Archer's guild, however, and Hohoka was very excited to learn about them as well! So they ventured into the little corner of New Gridania the archers called home.

As thanks for giving her the time of day, Hohoka's newest friend, Kiyomi, showed the group around Limsa Lominsa, starting with the Marauder's Guild, her home as Kiyomi put it. Hohoka gladly took the opportunity to learn to wield the axe. Walking along the Aftcastle, Hohoka was enticed by the sounds of the blacksmiths and armorers working. Of course, she would learn that too! And fishing as well as Kiyomi's tour neared its end.

The official last stop was Melvaan's Gate. Kiyomi admitted she didn't know much about them other than it was the home of the arcanists. Intrigued by their name, Hohoka walked into their halls and learned their art. And so ended her learning spree for now. Empowered and enlightened, she would study all of these arts and eventually pick up even more.

[thelongestway]

FFXIV Write 2024, Prompt #27: Memory (make up day, 29)

I had been in a foul mood to begin with that day, and it did not help matters that the Scions decided to start up a casual discussion on my least favorite topic in the entire world.

I managed to stay out of it for the most part, and had almost thought myself in the clear when Alphinaud turned to me and smiled an infuriatingly kind smile.

"What about you, my friend? How would you like to be remembered, once all is said and done?"

I suppressed the urge to glare at him.

"I don't particularly get a choice in the matter, so I never really thought about it," I said instead, as neutrally as possible. "Whatever my wishes, the title will live on."

"But if you could choose?" Y'shtola asked, genuinely curious.

I felt a surge of irritation. Lie? Say something about 'my legacy is ensured'?

No. Even the thought is repulsive.

"Were it really my choice, I would rather not be remembered. Certainly not as the Warrior, and preferredly not at all."

"Really?" Alisaie said, surprised. "But you've touched so many lives..."

Oh, not this again.

Enough.

"And few people touched mine in return," I snapped. "If I really had my way? I would bequeath exclusive access to my memory to those few people, and erase everyone else's. Do that lucky trick the previous generation of Warriors got."

The table hushed.

"But... Why?" G'raha asked, finally.

In for a gil - in for a katana, I suppose.

"Because what's going to happen has already been decided for me," I grimaced. "You've seen it happen, too. Generations, crawling over every minute of my life with a Twelves-damned lice comb. Being turned into a bloody symbol. And I have no say in the matter."

I stopped short before saying the worst thing I could: that it would be people like the Scions doing it, if not the Scions themselves. We still had to work together, after all.

Y'shtola was the one who broke the silence.

"I see the problem," and, to my surprise, she sounded genuinely thoughtful. Like she were appraising a solution. "Bear with me for a moment more, if you would?"I nodded, suddenly curious where she was going with it. "If you were to have your way - well, other than the eminently unpractical memory erasures - what would you actually like to be remembered as?"

I gave the question the consideration it deserved. They waited, patiently.

"A footnote," I answered finally. "That is to say - not as the subject of any narrative or biography, heroic or otherwise. But... Specific stratagems, or thaumaturgic improvements, or things I made. Those, I would like to be referenced. With the name, even."

"Hmmm." Y'shtola rapped her fingers against the table. "I cannot say that one could possibly guarantee that not even a single historian would write a biography - even the most obscure subject matter has its aficionados. But for the rest..." She flashed a wicked grin. "We will simply have to work hard."

"But how?" Alphinaud asked, rather glumly. Both of the twins were looking rather down, and I felt a stab of remorse - I had not meant to twist the knife quite so hard. "I really don't see what we could do."

Y'shtola's grin was contagious.

"For one, you, master Alphinaud, will have to make an effort to be more famous," she drawled.

Alphinaud choked on his drink.

"M-me?"

"And so will everyone else," she amended. "A tall oak is best hidden in a forest. If you two bring peace to Garlemald, if Krile, Urianger and I succeed in setting up a bridge between worlds, if Raha uses the vast resources of the Crystal Tower - all that, in sum, could perhaps take some heat off the Slayer of Primals."

To my utter amazement, the others were nodding along too.

"Count me out - or rather, count me as one of those whom you are running interference for," said Thancred with a smile. "I prefer to do my work in the shadows as well - I hope you won't object to the company?"

"Not at all," I said, a little dumbfounded.

"Then 'tis decided," Urianger stated. "We shall endeavor to ensure that the slaying of primals becomes but a footnote in the Scions' history."

"And that other, more constructive efforts - collaborative ones, where no single member can possibly catch the attention of historians future - come to the fore," G'raha finished, decisively.

"Well," I spread my hands, laughing. "If you pull this off, then you'll have my utter respect!"

"Oh, so we didn't have it before!" Alisaie said in mock indignation. "Did you hear that, brother?"

"Yes," Alphinaud nodded sagely. Then looked at me, eye twinkling. "Apologies, my friend, but we are absolutely going to prove you wrong."

"And land you on your sorry arse!" Alisaie added.

"Nothing would be more welcome," I said. And I meant it.

[halonicheart]

What're your favourite headcanons that you've come up with? Ones that you love but you never really get to talk about? (For any character.)

There’s… there’s a few but I’ll be as brief with them as possible cause I do plan to make proper posts for these. Also cause I’d feel weird writing a documentaries worth of info for an ask ooouuough… and I’ll just narrow it down to two all time favorites cause yeah

Number 1 on the list would most definitely be the HC I have for Lovette’s voidsent as a reaper. I’ve only mentioned it maybe… twice? Lovette theoretically has two voidsent. One she made an actual typical contract with, as does any reaper, and the other well… just kind of showed up. If you’re familiar with persona 3 , it’s akin to Thanatos coming out of the mouth of Orpheus- the protag’s persona. This second voidsent is actually her shard the 13th, Amara Lovelace and she’s hell bent on simply taking over Lovette’s body for no true reason other than she’s twisted and bored. This makes her reluctant to actually call upon her voidsent since Amara appearing is sporadic.

It’s a tense relationship between the two but Amara comes to be fiercely protective of Lovette when she regains her memories via a series of events I will make a seperate post on cause it’s a l o t.

Second is less to do with a character and more to do with black mage stones. Cause it… it bugs me the quests established “yeah don’t do black mage shit without a stone or you die via self immolation” but then you see characters doing just that. Just cause. So which is it? Am I missing details in the game? Probably but I’ll deal with that as I get there.

Point is it got me to thinking, does the severity of the consequences depend on the moves down and how they’re cast? If I wasn’t at work I could break down the whole thing but another time another post.

But as a few examples of my line of thought-

A mage needs to find balance between Astral Fire and Umbral Ice. Which to me translates to bodily consequences such as-

•over usage of ice moves can cause frost bite, slow down blood flow resulting in excessive exhaustion and at worst cause the mage to freeze to death

• over usage of fire moves can cause burns, heat exhaustion, and at worst self immolation

•moves meant strictly for black mages will take heavier tolls on the body or immediate death. Think of moves like Foul, Despair or Xenoglossy. Should a thaumaturge attempt to cast it, if they can finish the cast, it will result in their death.

•moves that upgrade from thaumaturge to black mage being casted by the former won’t kill the caster but will have heavy consequences on the body. Otherwise they could theoretically live.

•A CRACKED JOB STONE COULD SPELL EVEN THE MOST CAPABLE OF BLACK MAGES DEATH

•a thaumaturge could theoretically be as strong as a black mage. The vital difference is the consequences of casting and the later having access to more potent spells with less worry of it killing them. Chances are low but never zero. A caster must be as cunning as they are fierce.

That’s the gist of it. I have a list I’m working on breaking down a thaumaturge casting versus a black mage casting and the consequences of either. It’s… it getting long ooouoough but I’m hoping to have it up one of these days

[starsandauras]

Prompt #10: Avail

FFXIV 30 Day Writing Challenge Prompt 10: Avail

Non-graphic mention and treatment of a burn injury. Many thanks to @corbix for helping me finally figure out what I was gonna do with this one. <3

Brigid hissed in a breath as Llewellyn gently wrapped gauze around her burned arm. It wasn’t a terrible burn, but it was enough that on a regular patient he would take extra steps on it. That it was his baby sister that was his patient, well. It never hurt to be prudent, did it?

He turned to fetch the adhesive that would keep it from unraveling until it was time to check it once again, and he heard her huff behind him. He smiled to himself as he turned back, applying it. “And how did you come by this injury, little flame?” he asked, smiling gently as she sighed.

“Workin’ out what the guild’s callin’ Fire Two,” she muttered. “Wasnae workin’ right so I was goin’ out and tryin’ to figure out ‘twas goin’ wrong.”

“And you didn’t think to ask Guildmaster Coco..?”

“Cocobani. And nay, he’d just be tellin’ me to go read Thaumaturgy: The Yawnin’ Abyss ‘gain.” Brigid spread the fingers of her uninjured hand out wide and shook them a little. “As though I can be makin’ me way through somethin’ so dense ‘gain. ���Twas bein’ hard ‘nough the first time,” she grumbled, and Llewellyn nodded. Book learning didn’t come easy to his sister, though of course she had basic literacy down like the rest of them. She didn’t have the focus for anything particularly academic, preferring to put her hands on things. He just wished she didn’t have a habit of wanting to do that with her thaumaturgy training.

“Still, he is there to teach you…”

“Then be teachin’ me in a way I’m understandin’!” Brigid finally snapped, flinging her good arm out to the side. “Guildmasters Cocobygo and Cocoboha both were teachin’ me hands on! Even Cocobezi was tryin’ to teach me somethin’ of value, even if I was already learnin’ it in me brothel days!” She covered her face with her hand, sighing. “I’m wantin’ to control this on me own terms, even if ‘tis meanin’ me staff’s ‘plodin’ in me face.”

“I would rather your staff not explode at all,” Llewellyn lightly chided, stroking Brigid’s hair gently. “Now, what will you do when you return to Ul’dah next?”

“…Ask Papalymo for help?”

“Brigid.”

She flinched, as Llewellyn rarely ever called her by her first name, and then she sighed. “Ask Guildmaster Cocobani if he can be helpin’ me with Fire Two,” she replied, voice flat in resignation.

“And?”

“And if he can be doin’ it without makin’ anythin’ blow up.”

Llewellyn smiled and leaned down to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “That’s my little flame. Now go change, Sammy’s about to have dinner on.”

“Angler stew?” she asked hopefully.

Llewellyn laughed. “With cheese risotto and blood currant tart for dessert,” he told her, and smiled brightly at the equally as bright smile that appeared on her face.

“Yay!”

[hibiscus-tome]

FFXIV Write 2022, day 10: channel

“Again,” says Y’shtola.

Her voice is firm, brokering no room for argument — perhaps too stern, in Ryne’s humble opinion, for someone who’s been clearly unwell for at least a day now.

Rhea doesn’t protest, though — not even when sweat’s started to collect on her brow from the exertion, when casting magic continuously, for however long it takes to see a battle through, has always seemed so effortless to her. Instead, she falls back into the proper stance, and begins channeling aether without missing a single beat.

There’s a certain rhythm to thaumaturgy, Urianger had once explained in one of his long-winded lectures on aetherology: a cycle between activity and stasis, enabled by a constant ebb and flow of one’s aether. A skilled thaumaturge, he’d said, will require a very precise control over their own aether; and when one draws from their own aetheric reserves, it’s imperative that they do not bleed themselves dry.

… but with the sheer amount of aether Rhea’s absorbed from the Lightwardens, can she bleed herself dry? Will it hurt her too badly to try?

(Somehow, Ryne can’t help but wonder if it would upset the others, if she were to ask.)

“Ryne,” says Y’shtola, a touch more gently. “I need you to pay attention. Do you notice anything strange about her aether, while she’s casting like this?”

What little Ryne can discern from Rhea’s aether, Y’shtola probably knows already; still, she squints as Rhea shifts her weight between her feet, unleashing a stream of fire against the training dummy. It’s the same stance Y’shtola uses when casting, but all of the aether fueling it seems to be coming from within Rhea, instead of it being a combination of her personal reserves and a certain amount siphoned from the land itself.

—but where Y’shtola’s casting is fluid, there’s the slightest bit of instability to Rhea’s — a hairline fracture that only becomes more obvious the harder Ryne looks, no matter how precise and practiced her motions are. That… hadn’t been there before. At least, not to this extent.

Would the light contained there bleed out, if that fracture were to grow? How badly would it hurt Rhea when it happens?

(The pixies had had to lock Titania in that castle, all by themselves — both for their king’s sake and their own. It wasn’t anger or hatred that drove them to such a decision, and yet… and yet…)

Abruptly, Rhea stops casting. She winces, raising one hand to her chest as she takes deep, measured breaths. Beneath that hairline fracture, there’s light — pushing and pushing, not quite bursting at the seams but rapidly approaching that point regardless.

“Is aught amiss?” asks Y’shtola, her voice betraying no emotion.

Somehow, Rhea manages a smile — but it’s a feeble, wobbling thing. “I’m all right,” she says — but her hand doesn’t leave her chest, and her eyes drift shut as she winces again.

(It’s not quite as bad as it had been before, and yet… and yet…)

“Why don’t you sit down for a little while?” says Ryne, as gently as she can manage — and takes Rhea’s arm to pull her over to a bench, before she can utter a single word of protest.

Y’shtola sits down on Rhea’s other side, pressing her lips together in a thin line. “You’ve been practicing at this for a long time, haven’t you?” she asks. “Thaumaturgy, as a means of controlling your aether amidst that of the Lightwardens’.”

Rhea huffs out a quiet laugh. “Is it that obvious?”

Y’shtola sighs. “What I’d like to know is how long you’ve been carrying on like this, with nary a word.” And the more Ryne thinks about it, the more it makes sense — the rhythmical precision with which Rhea had cycled through the various forms of magic she employed; the way her strength never grew beyond a controlled amount, even with how much aether she’d absorbed from each Lightwarden.

“To be perfectly honest,” says Rhea, “I thought it was just a side effect of being in a different world, at first.” She extends her hand, her palm facing upward as light sparks at her fingertips. “I thought… well, if I’m going to be fighting in a world flooded with light, then it’s that that will respond when I call for it, before any other element.” Her fingers curl shut, and she averts her eyes downward. “But it didn’t get any better, even when the night was restored. And then it became an effort to control it.”

Y’shtola’s eyes narrow, as she rubs her chin. “Hence your increased reliance on thaumaturgy, as of late.”

Rhea nods. “Conjury feels… risky, now — and yet, it’s the strongest it’s ever been. I can still use it, but…”

But there’s no telling if it will exacerbate that hairline fracture on what’s barely keeping all of that light contained.

“You should have told someone if it was hurting you!” Ryne interjects — and she doesn’t mean it as a reprimand, not really, but she can’t think of any other way to say it.

—because as unkind as it is, she’s frankly tired of people who would rather run themselves into an early grave than talk about the things that hurt them. It’s not like Ryne could have done much to help before — but she can do it now, can’t she? So why won’t Rhea trust her with this?

“I thought I could handle it myself,” says Rhea, quietly. “I’m sorry.”

(Titania had fought that Lightwarden, alone. They did so for their people, with nary a complaint — even though it would doom them to a far crueler fate. How long had they remained trapped in that castle, alone, lest they hurt the very subjects they gave their life to protect?)

“No more of this,” says Y’shtola. “If you find yourself struggling with this at any point, no matter how trivially, I want to know.”

“I can help you with this, now,” says Ryne, “but I won’t know when if you don’t tell me.”

It’s not enough. Rhea’s had more than enough practice keeping such matters quiet, and so it will fall to Ryne to watch for it.

Still, Rhea smiles, her hand falling lightly atop Ryne’s head in a familiar gesture. “I’ll do my best,” she promises.

[shellyseashell]

BREATH OF LIFE

Notes: this chapter is so short it had no right taking as long to write as it did

Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of death, implied starvation, guilt

Act 2 - Guard

18: dead or alive

THE DAYS IN WAITING WERE AGONY. They were crammed into small rooms, tripping over each other when they moved. Not that they moved much. They had no where to go, and they were afraid to be heard, so they communicated in hand signals and messages on their one remaining portscreen. Or in Aminah and Ling’s case, whispers only the two of them could hear. Their isolation had given them plenty of time to process their feelings (though they hadn’t had the time or privacy to talk about it yet), and they rarely left each other’s arms. 

Ling’s arm was healing fine. It still hurt, but Wolf had stitched it up, and the risk of infection had passed. It wasn’t her dominant arm, at least, so if a fight came, she wouldn’t be completely useless. 

Then there was the issue of food, and Ling would never forgive herself for leaving their bag behind. There was too little food and too many people. Maha barely got enough food rations to feed herself, let alone six other people. Ling ate the least, a habit left over from her childhood (she almost expected her grandmother to force food in front of her, tell her to eat, but instead it was Aminah).

They tried to rework their plan, but there wasn’t much they could do. They couldn’t use the video, not without Cress (“I wish I’d taken computer science,” Aminah had said during one of those planning sessions. Thorne had asked if it would have helped, to which Aminah said, “No idea, but it sounds like it could.”).

After Ling had suggested finding Kalise (which they had deemed too dangerous, since it meant returning to Artemisia), they talked of a grassroots movement. Maha wold spread the word of Selene returning through the laborers at the mines, they’d send messengers into the tunnels, messages would be scrawled on the walls, like the ones they’d seen before. They decided against it, in the end, as it was a slow strategy and didn’t have much of a chance of success. There was a reason the Lunars were so isolated from each other — rebellion was hard to incite. 

Ling’s eyes were starting to burn, staring at the holographic map of Luna, the same one she’d stared at countless times in her life. No one had suggested anything new in over and hour. 

A chorus of chimes broke the silence, making Ling jump. The map faded, replaced with a mandatory broadcast, and Ling’s heart sank. 

Thaumaturge Aimery Park appeared before them, and it almost felt like he was in the room with them, like Ling could touch him if she reached out. “Good people of Luna,” he said, “please stop what you are doing and listen to this announcement. I am afraid we have tragic news to impart. Earlier today, Her Royal Highness, Princess Winter Hayle-Blackburn, stepdaughter of Her Majesty the Queen, was found murdered in the royal menagerie.”

Ling whimpered. Something deep in her, something holding onto hope that Winter and Jacin and Kalise (and Jie, but that was something she didn’t let herself think about) were alive shattered. Dead. Murdered. Winter was gone. Winter, who was her first friend. Winter, who comforted her after being caught by aristocrats. Winter, who walked her places to ensure she wouldnt be caught in the first place. Winter, who had sworn to protect her family. Winter, who was dead. 

Who would be next?

Aminah’s arms tightened around her, and Ling leaned into her. She didn’t want to cry — she hadn’t let herself cry over her family, not anymore, she didn’t want to be heard — but she couldn’t help the few tears that slipped down her cheeks. 

“We are reviewing security footage in an attempt to bring the murderer to justice, and we will not rest until our beloved princess is avenged. Though our devoted queen is devastated at this loss, she wishes to proceed with her wedding ceremony as scheduled, so we might have joy in this time of sadness. A funeral procession for Her Highness will be scheduled for the coming weeks. Princess Winter Hayle-Blackburn will be missed by us all, but never forgotten.”

Aimery disappeared. 

“I’m sure she’s so devastated,” Ling said, her voice thick with sarcasm and taking on a hardness she had rarely heard. “She ordered Winter to be killed.”

“I wonder what she did to anger her,” said Cinder. 

“Exist,” said Ling. “She can never be queen, but she’s more beautiful than Levana, and liked a lot more. She could still be a threat, especially now.”

Wolf’s head snapped up, his eyes locking on the window. His nose twitched as they watched him. His brow grew closer. 

“Wolf?” Cinder asked. 

He sniffed again, his eyes brightening. 

Then he was gone, hurling himself out the door.

Cinder jumped to her feet. “Wolf! What are you—”

The door slammed shut.

It only took a second for it to click with the rest of them, and then they were racing after him. Down the streets, doing their best to not be seen, and into a narrow alleyway between two factories.

When they arrived, Wolf was on the ground, the prisoner — Scarlet — wrapped in his arms. Thorne whistled, breaking the two apart from their kiss.

“I can’t believe it,” Scarlet said, stumbling to her feet. Wolf helped her stand. “You’re here. On Luna.”

“We’re here,” confirmed Thorne. “And if you’d bothered to RSVP, we would have brought you a snack. When was the last time you ate?”

As Scarlet glanced down at herself, Ling’s insides twisted. This was her fault. She’d brought Scarlet to that family. She’d been at her trial. She should have helped her escape, she should have . . . she should have . . . . There was nothing else she could have done. Like so many other things, there was nothing else she could have done. And yet, she desperately wished there had been. 

“You look lovely,” said Iko. “A little rough around the edges, but it adds character.”

“Um, thanks.” Scarlet wiped away tears. “And you are . . . ?”

Iko bounced on her toes. “It’s me, Iko! The captain found me a real body.”

Scarlet’s eyebrows raised, motioning to Ling and Aminah. “And they are . . . ?”

Ling pointed at Aminah. “Aminah.”

Aminah pointed at her. “Ling.”

Before Scarlet could reply, a voice that made Ling’s blood run cold and her legs go numb echoed through the alley.

“The parakeets sing ta-weet-a-weet-a-weet, and the stars twinkle all the night . . .”

It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be. She was dead. 

The song continued, a song Ling had heard so many times in her life, as she approached the cart where the noise was coming from. She pulled it back and . . . and this had to be a Lunar trick. Winter was dead, just like her family. 

She couldn’t be here, curled on her side, her skirt covered in blood, wearing a red jacket she knew was Scarlet’s, drawing designs in the wall.

“Winter?” Ling said.

Winter turned from the wall, lifted herself to her knees. “Ling!”

Ling dropped to her knees, pulling Winter into a hug as a sob escaped her. “I thought you were dead! They just — they just announced your death!”

“Jacin faked the murder,” Scarlet said, “and helped us escape.”

Of course he did. Of course he was still helping them, no matter where he was. 

“I’m so sorry about your family,” Winter said. “I tried to help them, but I failed.”

Ling pulled her closer, and more tears escaped. “It’s not your fault.”

They sat there for a few more seconds, and then Winter pulled away and faced Cinder. “You are my long-lost cousin and very dear friend. I could not believe it until now, but it is true.” She took Cinder’s hand. “Do you remember me?”

Cinder shook her head. “Ling told me about you though.”

“I’m surprised she remembers anything,” Winter said. “My memories are hazy, and I’m two years older than her. One older than you. Still, I hope we can be good friends again.” She lifted up Cinder’s cyborg hand. “Is it made of ashes?”

Ling snorted. She’d missed Winter. “Metal.”

Winter grinned. “Forgive me. You are no longer only my friend or cousin, and this is no way to greet you.” She rose to her feet, leaving Ling the only one on the ground, and dipped into a curtsy. “My Queen, it is my honor to serve you.”

“Er — thank you?” Cinder pulled her hand away and put it behind her back. “That’s kind, but you don’t have to do that. Again. Ever.”

Thorne cleared his throat. “We need to get back to the house. We’ve already risked drawing enough attention, and she . . .” He looked at Winter, almost suspicious. “. . . will definitely draw attention.”

Taglist: @salt-warrior @yeah-asbestos @cinderswrench @linh-song @cindersassasin @healing-winston-pratt @just2bubbly @gingerale2017 @thestarryeyedsapphic @zephyr-thedragon @that-glasses-dog

[yezielmoore]

Day 12: Extra Credit.

Wait, what it that noise? Oh look, it's canon falling off the rails, whoops!

Kaito's extra bits of the Echo is fantasy synesthesia, with a dash of empathy. When someone talks or makes noise he sees that as colors that best represent their soul. Much less intense is the flavors he tastes that he asociates with each person he meets and change sligthly with strong feelings.

~.~.~

Prompt: Adversary.

n. one that contends with, opposes, or resists: an enemy or opponent.

He isn’t sure what he's seeing and tasting at first, in those first weeks after being dropped off in Limsa Lominsa by Hana, who was deep blue and pink with bursts of yellow and whose words tasted like that green tea from her homeland. He still remembers the bitter tang her parting words left in his tongue, the same he tasted each and every time she checked on him while pretending she was doing other, more important, things and he was a pit-stop.

Hana had been terribly confusing.

It takes him a while to figure out the basics beyond see and taste words and sounds. He realizes that people are palettes and no two persons have the same color combination or hue, it is as good as having a personal ID on everyone he meets. He doesn't figure out the taste for the longest time, not until Ifrit, when those tempered went… wrong. Their colors smothered under the same hue as the primal and all their individual flavors taking on the same sweet/rotten tang. It had been incredibly disturbing and disconcerting at the time, but be had put together a theory afterwards.

Even so, he hadn't realized this strange ability of his was anything to write home about. So he can see sounds, what of it? It's not very useful, now is it? In identifying those tempered, sure, but unless someone pulls a switcheroo, why would it matter?

'Why indeed', he thinks wryly as he enters the Solar in the Walking Sands and stops dead in his tracks, eyes immediately zeroing on the anomaly in their midst.

“My friend, welcome…” Minfilia greets him with her customary warm smile, which falters when she sees his expression. “Is aught amiss?”

“Yes, yes there is,” Kaito says calmly, far more calm than he feels. He prowls forwards, eyes fixed unerringly on Thancred, who raises an eyebrow in a wordless question. “Let’s start easy with the easy question. Who the fuck are you?”

Around this strange stand-off the other scions, already worried at his uncharacteristically hostile actions, all tense in alarm. They are uncertain and he can't really blame them. Fond of him as they are, Thancred has been one of them for much, much longer. However, for reasons that aren’t entirely clear to him, they trust him a lot more than he would have dared believe, newcomer that he is. It’s for this reason that they don’t immediately jump on him, choosing instead a watch and see approach.

For his part, Thancred's eyes widen at the accusation, the shock in his expression completely genuine. He has caught the interloper by surprise it seems, but instead of the worry and alarm that Kaito would expect Thancred to betray in the face of an accusation such as this, all he sees behind the façade is an icy cold and shrewd intelligence that is now entirely focused on him. He can practically feel those eyes dissecting him and rapidly reassessing the situation. It’s unnerving on the extreme.

Not that the real Thancred isn’t smart and sharp as a tack, he's definitely one of the smartest people Kaito knows, and he can be ruthless, certainly, but Thancred isn’t cold like this. If the minute shuffling and the taste of stale dark chocolate on his tongue is anything to go by, then Y'shtola has also noticed the discrepancy.

“Now, why would you think that?” ‘Thancred’ asks with a worried air about him and a shake of his head. “Did you perchance have some peculiar encounter on your travels? I wouldn’t put it past our robed foes to concoct something while you were on your own.”

The words confirm it. Like will-o'-wisps, they paint the air around 'Thancred' with colors… a fiery red crossed with bright orange and stabbed everywhere with a deep virulent purple. It is utterly unlike the warm pink, orange and soft yellow threaded with cool blue that Kaito has come to associate with Thancred, either a sunrise or a sunset, constant all the same. Everything about the stranger's colors is more, somehow, deeper and richer. Saturated to the point of provoking a headache.

As the wisps fade away, they leave behind a strong aftertaste of burnt sugar. Kaito clicks his tongue, as if that would serve to dislodge the sensation.

This… ability or whatever, it isn’t something Kaito has thought too deeply about, not when other matters had been so pressing at the time. He should have given the matter more consideration. At the very least he should have given his allies a heads up, because he probably is coming off as addled if not deranged to everyone minus the imposter who is probably laughing at him.

"Aye, but unlike Thancred I was never on my own, was I? I was surrounded by people all the time and then I hitched a ride with the aetherytes in between. Unless you're suggesting our foes can pluck people from the aether currents, then I don’t see how I could've had a tête-à-tête with them." He glares at the other man who has the gall to look disturbed. Everyone else is still on edge and Kaito knows, knows, they’ll run out of patience soon. He can only hope the intruder is as short-sighted as the other robed fool they met. "The difference is like day and night; you look nothing like Thancred."

Finally, for some reason, it is this what makes the stranger drop the charade. His alert but not-quite-tense posture changes and the bewildered air around him immediately morphs into one of utter menace. It's like seeing a housecat shed its skin and turn into a chimera while sitting on your lap.

The scions, who had remained guarded but made no move for or against the proceedings, immediately ready their weapons, the sounds exploding in a rainbow of colors that is strangely calming in their familiarity. It's Urianger, ever watchful and cautious Urianger, that gently tugs a shocked and vulnerable Minfilia closer to him, a topaz carbuncle bursting into existence in front of them both at his silent command.

Kaito's axe, always close at hand, is now drawn and pointed at the enemy wearing a friend's face.

“Well, well, well, color me impressed.” This time the wisps don’t just float around, they practically lash out, glowing so violently that for a moment Kaito is afraid they will gain tangibility and wreck everything. He gags as the taste of burnt sugar turns into sweet charcoal. “That one of you broken creatures could have such an unusual Echo in this pitiful age. Hydaelyn’s chosen, no less!” With liquid grace, not-Thancred stalks closer until his chest is touching Kaito’s axe, seemingly unconcerned about the threat. “Tell me, adventurer, do you really think you can stop me?”

Kaito grits his teeth against the sensory overload and the headache that pounds away inside his skull, a retort full of bravado already on his tongue. Before he can answer, however, a fireball whizzes past his ear, forcing not-Thancred to retreat.

“It’s not just him you have to contend with, fiend,” Papalimo warns, coffee cookies washing away the rage and death that choked him before. Aether gathers and swirls around the thaumaturge as he prepares another spell. A spell that never comes as Yda takes the opening her partner gave her and uses it to land an impressive combo full of punches and kicks that would have broken bones on any normal man.

Unfortunately, whoever this impostor is, normal he is not.

Disappearing and then reappearing closer to the door, he looks at each of the scions until his gaze zeroes once more on Kaito.

“So it seems,” he acknowledges with a bored air that is simply galling and has all of them bristling without meaning to. “Enjoy your futile resistance while you can then.”

“Wait!” Minfilia cries out from behind the protection the combatants provided. She’s pale and her knuckles are white from clutching the edge of her desk. “Is Thancred… What did you do to him?!”

Not-Thancred smirks. It’s an expression that has always been at home in Thancred’s face, fond and mischievous and always a bit flirty, but right now is full of malice. “Who knows.”

And then he is gone.

[thereluctantinquisitor]

WIP Whenever

Thank you for the tag @captainsaku! At the moment, I’m still limping through the opening chapters of Stonebreaker, trying to get a feel for the story and work on strengthening my atrophied writing muscles. Anyway, I figured I’d share what I have so far of Adiran’s introductory chapter. It’s basically just an awkward, descriptive mess, but at least it’s something. At this point, I’ll count that as a win!

I also put a short glossary at the end in case some terms were confusing. <3

Chapter 3 - A Scene

Be present. Do not cause a scene.

They were simple enough requests, Adiran supposed, as he braced himself and drained his third flute of wine. He knew it was poor form to cringe after swallowing, but the dry white was about as pleasant as a mouthful of sand and only went down half as well. If he was the paranoid type, he’d think the servers were offering him the worst vintages on purpose.

Then again, the celebration had stretched into its ninth day, now. Even the royal cellars had a limit.

Despite overstaying its welcome, the event remained at a predictably lofty height of splendour. In the ballroom - Vetrose’s famed Silver Font -  delicate rivulets of water, no wider than the span of a hand, curled their way across the marble floor, draining into a shallow pool at the base of the royal thrones. Above their heads, weavelight strings were draped elegantly between pillars and across wide arches, their glowing pinpricks joining the blazing chandelier to bathe the room a honey-gold.

Beneath that radiant light, the Talveran nobility moved like swans, jewellery glittering, ankle-length gowns and embroidered jackets flashing enough to catch the attention of nesting crows. Hundreds packed the Font that night - an entirely different crowd to the evening prior, and likely the one prior to that. Attending Talveran court, with its litany of demands and expectations, was an exhausting and expensive affair. Every evening demanded a new outfit. A new glittering showpiece. A new plan for navigating the treacherous waters of social interaction, careful not to show too much interest in any one person. One night was difficult enough to survive. Very few could afford to be present for an entire turn’s worth of celebration.

Unfortunately, Adiran had no choice in the matter. It just had to be his brother returning from the northern border. As if no one else had ever come back from that waste of a campaign.

Another mouthful. Another weary swallow of something half as strong as it needed to be. Honestly, he’d almost rather be swallowing sand. At least that meant he’d be in the arena, getting his ass kicked practicing for something that mattered, instead of wasting his time decorating the wall. Divider’s Own, Lorvain was meant to have arrived by the third day! Adiran might have been able to slip away if he had been around to soak up the attentions of the lords and ladies. But no. The beloved Crown Prince had probably stopped to fawn over milkmaids and shepherds at every town between here and Morgate. Really, they should have accounted for that before throwing such a ridiculous event...

 A prince should want to know his people, Adiran. I thought you understood that?

Threading paths expertly between the nobility were almost three dozen servers dressed in vibrant Volise green. Silver trays were held aloft on the pads of their gloved fingers as they moved in rehearsed patterns around the room, making sure every hand that sought a glass found a delicate stem. It was a different sort of dance; the kind that typically went unnoticed, the same way a clock’s hands are appreciated more than the mechanism behind the face. They knew the position of every crack in the stone; every rivulet.

None of them ever looked down.

Speaking of timing, the only reason Adiran paid the servers any heed was to make sure he got his right. On cue, he finished his wine with a grimace and thrust it towards a well-groomed young woman, her dark hair braided and pinned neatly around her head. Without so much as an errant blink, she bobbed carefully at the knees, accepted the glass, and replaced it with a new one from her tray. 

“Careful not to drop that,” Adiran said, taking the drink and giving it an experimental sniff. Sweeter. Thank the Divider for that.

The server hesitated. They always did. Every night. “Your Highness?” she asked, and her lilt was perfection. Just the right amount of simpering, blended with polite curiosity. Someone had taken her training seriously.

“Am I slurring already? What I’m saying is that if the Crown Prince finally shows up and you’re in the middle of mopping a puddle, the King will have your hide for saddle leather. So...” He extended one bored finger towards the tray, a smirk curling the corner of his lips. “Tread lightly.”

The server’s mouth opened, and for a moment no sound followed. For just one blissful, fleeting second, Adiran thought he’d finally done it. He’d finally won. 

Then, like underappreciated clockwork, her lips shaped themselves into a beatific smile, and she dipped into a curtsy. The tray never even wobbled. “Thank you for your concern, Your Highness. On my word, I will remain diligent. I would not dare bring shame on our King’s house.”

Damn it. The smile Adiran flashed back - half a sneer - could cut glass. But the server had already completed her parting bob and returned to her dance, weaving and gliding among the gaggle of silver-bloods with her tray of weak wine. Expression turning brittle, Adiran huffed and leaned back against one of the massive marble pillars - just one of fifteen lining the room. He’d claimed it on the first evening, like a hound staking its territory. Most people knew better than to bother him once he’d found his haunt, but the serving staff simply didn’t have that luxury. He supposed it was probably unkind, to force them to speak to him. But Divider, he was just so bored...

Scowling, he took a long swallow of his new drink, the chilled, sweet liquid a welcome enough sensation as it ran down the back of his throat.

So he was unkind. So what?

“Are you finished losing to the servers for tonight, or should I come back later?”

A familiar voice, and right on time. Adiran gave no indication of surprise, barely even turning to acknowledge the man. After all, this was just another ritual for them; a way to take a knife to long hours of affluent, barely drunk loitering. “Yeah, I’m done. An earthquake couldn’t shake them.” His gaze finally cut across, delivering what he hoped was a scathing look as Riin settled against the pillar beside him. “Took you long enough. Get distracted by all the pretty gowns and pouting lips?”

Folding his arms across his broad chest, Riin chuckled softly, utterly immune to Adiran’s glare. “Could you blame me if I was? Everyone looks appealing under this light.”

“That’s generous of you.” Sniffing, Adiran glanced up. Even with the smoke-glass covers encasing each glowing orb, he still had to squint against the brightness of the weavelights. “Guess it could be worse. We looked more like corpses before the covers were put on.”

“Really? I’m glad I missed it.”

“Yeah. Being dead inside is more than enough.”

Riin laughed, and a faint smile curved Adiran’s lips. He quickly hid it behind his glass. Truthfully, the entire ‘weavelight saga’ had been ridiculous. The King and Queen had commissioned hundreds of them from Tel Shival, purely because no one else had ever done it. Even the wealthiest families only ever had a few per household, usually kept in a lantern or a sconce in the most frequented rooms. After two seasons of painstaking arrangement that nearly killed two of their staff, the Silver Font soon found itself bathed in a thematically violent silver light. It had been an exciting novelty, at first; nobility flooded in from all over Talvera just to bask in the glow of thousands of wasted sicets. But then they quickly realised that colours didn’t behave the same way. Their favourite jewellery didn’t catch the eye. Their skin didn’t appear as youthful and rosy. Instead, every flaw - every stray hair or unpolished button - was placed on stark display for the vultures to pick at.

The weavelights were as bleak and clinical as a physicker’s ward. They sucked the warmth out of everything they touched.

In Adiran’s mind, the wash of corpse-light over each soiree was a perfectly fitting thing. But, as was typical, no one else agreed. So, they decided to encase each of the weavelights in honey-tinted glass and returned the room to almost exactly how it looked before. Back when it was lit by oil and flame.

That was how things were in Talvera. Decisions were made, sicets were spent, and then everyone just wanted to go back to how things used to be. Like nothing had ever happened.

GLOSSARY

Weavelight - spheres of crystal or glass, with a light-bearing glyphstring engraved by a thaumist specialising in Weaving. Maintains a bright, steady silver light. Cannot be dimmed or turned off at will. Thaumist - a well-trained practitioner of the thaumic arts, capable of manipulating thaumic essence. Turn - ten days. Tel Shival - An independent, famously insular city dedicated to the training and cultivation of thaumists and thaumaturgical study. Sicet - Currency used in the Allied Kingdoms.

---

Tagging: @frenchy-and-the-sea, @leothelionsaysgrrrr, @bladeverbena, @thefluffynug, @rufinagertrude, @arduyn, @anarchyduck, and anyone else who has a WIP they’d like to share!

[elizabethrobertajones]

Saw you've been sucked into the MMO life in the form of FFXIV and I was wondering if you had any input into the debate I've been having about what class archetypes tfw would play. I think Sam would be most likely to tank because it requires a reasonable amount of leadership and is also more of a quiet, backbone type role compared to dps. Dean seems more the type to be singularly focused on the big damage hits tbh. He also tends to take more of the charging in and fighting role in their normal life with Sam being the one reading up on everything more carefully and being his backup. Which leaves Cas as healer which may just be me projecting because I play healer/support at every opportunity but literal angel healing aside I think that sorta fits too, he cares a lot for them and tries to keep them safe and shield them as best he can in their adventures? Idk half formed thoughts please completely contradict me if you want I'm genuinely curious about other people's opinions here

Heyooo :D It is less sucked into and more like I’ve returned to the warm cushiony nest of MMOs lol

If you’d asked me back when I was a WoW player I’d have fully agreed because you could only have one class per character and these are definitely the snap decisions that the fam would make when on the character screen. Dean would grab the sexiest DPS, Sam the stoutest tank especially as he’s the one who has read into the classes and strats beforehand, and Cas would ask what to do and be given the healer role because the other two in this scenario would know better about the game and sort of lump it onto him like, oh, we need a healer and you can do this.

(In my own gaming journey, this is what my friends and brother did to me, as they needed a healer to round out their party... I took druid because it was spoopy, and discovered in WoW that while you can’t change classes you can pay gold to respec your character’s role within that class... Promptly re-specced to a melee dps/tank feral druid instead of the healer one, and had a lot more fun :D)  

In FFXIV you can take all the classes on your character (which I have done, natch) and it’s a much more interesting levelling approach, especially seeing how my friends playing the game have gone when it comes to taking classes as they level and why they claim to have tried and then rejected others. It’s an enormous personality test, even for peeps like me and my brother who have all the classes up at max level, which ones we prioritised and which ones we sort of struggled with or found a bit meh. 

Hm so in the scenario that Charlie comes bursting into the Bunker demanding that she needs some friends for dungeons and raids and they’re all sitting on their asses scrolling the internet between a case, they can bloody well play final fantasy with her for a bit, let’s go for some headcanons :D Long because FFXIV has become my current obsession and I have the same in-depth feels about it as I do about SPN but I just never get to write about them with anyone... 

First off, Sam of course has deep nerdery about it and will ask Charlie a ton of questions about what the right class to play is and do the same thing as we’ve already discussed and go for Paladin (which starts as gladiator), and also take all the crafting and gathering side classes because he’s a nerd and you learn nonsense lore while doing it. He’s also in the same starting zone as Thaumaturge which transitions to Black Mage and I BET he’d be tempted to have a little safe witch!Sam emotional release on the most un-Sam class. It’s the big unwieldy spell caster whose literal class quests and stuff make fun of how you’re small and squishy and will be standing in a very bad spot debating whether to finish a long-cast spell and get hit or stop DPS and run for safety. I think he could do with the perspective and learning to be selfish either way to blow off steam from tanking and also learn to prioritise himself IRL :’D Also the paladin quest is WEIRDLY pro-cop from 30 onwards for some reason until the writers saw sense and just. stopped. doing paladin stuff and went back to the Gladiator storyline for the class quests, so idk if he’d enjoy that or start to question other things. Whatever it is he’s getting challenged XD

At 60 he grabs Gunbreaker because it sounds more cool and is thankfully way less emotionally stressful tanking as it’s entirely about being a badass bodyguard and sick flips. This is far more aspirational for Sam, especially as he could just tie a knife to a sawn off shotgun and do these moves for real in his day job. He won’t, but like with black mage, the thought that he COULD is very emotionally satisfying to him.

He might also have decided to check out scholar to see how healing is but idk if he would be able to handle Dean teasing him for having a fairy follow him around so he’d only dabble with the nerd class on the side :P  

Now, Dean can’t take ninja until level 10 or machinist (gun shooty DPS class) until 50, so his start point as DPS would either be pugilist (eeeey brass knuckle class!) or the other DPS classes to start with are Thaumaturge/Black Mage, Arcanist/Summoner, Archer or Lancer. Now. He’d probably think the first two are sissy because magic is for girls/arcanists literally only have a book as a weapon. Archer becomes bard and I think is ultimately a place he’d be very happy as it is a very supportive class to the whole party and basically the mom friend class. But I would love if he went lancer/dragoon because the level 50 class weapon is (folklore inspired name) “Gae Bolg” and every time I equip it I can’t help giggling at the name even though I know it’s a real thing and I shouldn’t. But. Like. It’s the class about waving enormous lances around. It’s got Implications, and Dean is drawn to those. 

He’d probably, however, take rogue/ninja as soon as he could because stabbing things with knives, and the class trainer is the kinda guy who’d have wild gay tension with him while they both try to boast about women to each other, were they to meet irl. Ironically, the rogue trainer (a womanising charmer) and the ninja trainer (an intense, honourable guy bad at social cues even among his own people who ends up falling from grace and choosing to stay in the vicinity of said rogue trainer) are an interesting pair of NPCs to teach Dean about where to stick knives. :) 

He’d go back and power-level dragoon once he starts Heavensward though, because Aymeric is also super intense with messy dark hair and big blue eyes that see right through you. :D He’s getting that gae bolg for him, you know? 

If they’re going to bully Cas to be their healer, he’d probably get really dedicated to the discipline especially as he can stay up all night to play and doesn’t need to take breaks to pee so he’d probably level conjurer/white mage (nature healing) and scholar (ancient book lore with a class quest which mixes ancient curses on a whole people, family drama and a bit of interspeciesish love) and then also pick up astrologian, which is good because it’s spooky star and making your own fate magic. The storyline for that is garbage in the sense that it’s really weakly written, but my favourite character randomly picks up AST in the latest expansion, and has an absolutely fucking wild subtextual romance with another character, including SPN level adopting of a random child who matches Jack in many respects, with said character. And in many respects emotionally they’re Cas and Dean but without any of the personal baggage between them specifically so they really are just chill and married, whatever else they’re stressed about (I say, dreading the next patch is going to finally bring up some questions about what is going on with them as it’s getting weirdly conspicuous while still utterly unsaid). So I would hope if Cas started projecting onto an astrologian character it would be him :P 

Cas also would get into summoner as the other branch of scholar because honestly those two classes are about as close to the random sigil drawing and reading things from books etc analogy to his own occult magic, except you can summon cool dragons and elementals to fight for you. 

they’d buy Jack a boost to 60 and he’d pick up dark knight and white mage probably just to subtly fuck with Dean 

(I am still not over Dean trying to test him to see if he was evil or not by whether he chose devil or angel cake) 

[sparrowwritings]

Final Fantasy Writing Challenge Day Thirty: Wealth

Day Twenty-Nine -- Masterpost -- Day Thirty-One

As soon as G’raha Tia had settled into his new role as one of the Scions, Lara and Roger had sat down with him to create a list of places for him to visit. After all, it had been so very long since he was in Eorzea during this time. Running around two hundred years in the future, plus the century he spent being the Crystal Exarch on the First had dulled his memories of what the land was like in the present. The Warriors of Darkness--well, Light now that they were back on the Source--wanted to take him anywhere he wished to go. He didn’t really have a lot of places he desperately desired to see, though. As such, the list he did end up writing was far shorter than expected.

“That’s it? Really?” Lara angled the paper so that she could more easily look at him. “You didn’t once want to, I don’t know, see the Steppes in Doma? Or Kugane itself?” 

“Or the Twelveswood?” Roger suggested. 

He shrugged. “I’m perfectly content with going where I need to be. Whether that means returning to Azis Lla, visiting places across the world, or helping moogles find various innocuous things, so long as you two allow me to join you on your adventures I will be fine.”

“Yeah but we’re not always doing something interesting.” Lara pointed out. “Downtime and doing ordinary things like helping out at our old jobs happens too.”

“Not nearly as much as we used to, though.” Roger rebutted. “We’ve been so busy lately…” He paused and turned to G’raha and flailed somewhat as he apologized. “Not that we blame you or anything! I just mean we’ve been real busy in general!”

He couldn’t stop the smile growing on his face even if he wanted to. It was so wonderful to be able to interact with the Warriors of Light in a situation where nothing dire was actively happening. “I know you meant no offense and I can assure you that none is taken.”

Before Roger could open his mouth to stick his foot in it again, Alisaie and Alphinaud made their entrance down the stairs into the Rising Stones. “What’s the good word?” The louder of the twins called out as she made her way to the table that G’raha, Lara and Roger were seated at. Her brother gave a fond chuff as he followed her.

“We’re trying to figure out where to take G’raha.” Lara answered.

“For a mission or for fun?” Alisaie sat herself in a chair without bothering to wait for an invitation. 

“Fun, duh,” Roger answered for his sister. “If it was a mission, we’d be heading over there right away.”

“It’s not always the case,” Alphinaud pointed out as he seated himself. He brought a hand to his chin as he thought better of the statement. “Although I suppose it happens with quite a bit of frequency…”

Ignoring the tangent that her brother was about to start on, Alisaie spoke over him. “Well if it’s fun you’re looking for, why not visit the Gold Saucer?” 

Lara blinked and, though G’raha knew she wasn’t actively using magic, it seemed as if sparks of light were hovering around her face with how delighted she was. “I didn’t think about that!” She turned the full force of her excitement towards him. He almost flinched as if she were the sun suddenly coming out of a cloud. “Did you ever get to go to the Gold Saucer?”

“I...actually haven’t.” He thought back to his time one hundred years in his own relative past. He’d traveled Eorzea with the descendants of Garlond Ironworks, but rarely had there been a chance to search for specific places. Survival and completing the plan to save the Warriors of Light had taken precedent. “I never had the opportunity before the Crystal Tower, nor was it still standing after I had been awoken.”

“Then it’s settled!” Lara looked towards the Leveilleur twins. “Let’s all go to Manderville Gold Saucer together!”

“How is it that she ropes us into these sorts of activities without us participating in the conversation?” Alphinaud asked his sister directly with more amusement than annoyance.

“I blame the cutesy nicknames they’ve given us.” Alisaie grinned back at him. “I told you we should figure out some for them in revenge.”

Both of the Warriors of Light responded in the most mature way possible: by sticking out their tongues at their friends. “You haven’t given an answer,” Roger looked pointedly between all three of them.

Alisaie answered first. “Might as well, I don’t have anything better to do.”

“There’s research to be done, but a break should be fine.” Alphinaud seconded. 

All four heads of people much younger than him turned to await his response. G’raha could feel his face heat up and hsi tail swish with the sudden attention. “It seems I’m outvoted even if I did dissent.” He held up his hands in surrender as he spoke. “I suppose we’re going to visit Gold Saucer together.”

The teens let up a cheer and he couldn’t help but smile about that.

------

“Okay, this time I will win that gigantic chocobo plush for you.” Lara pointed at Roger as the group of five walked down the carpeted entrance to the casino. It seemed as if every metal piece of filigree was made of gold, though it was hard to tell what with all of the stained glass and lights shining brightly even in this first corridor. 

“Not if I get you that black mage barding for Darius first.” Roger rebutted.

Inasmuch as G’raha Tia had never been to the Gold Saucer and every little detail was fascinating him, he was still listening to the conversation. “Who’s Darius?” 

Alisaie answered in lieu of either of the other set of twins. “He’s this giant of a chocobo with coal black feathers that Lara has.” She pointed at her right eye. “He was born without a right eye, but you’d never be able to tell from how fiercely he’ll protect her from danger. He can be a bit of a monster, even towards other monsters.”

Lara was immediately on the defense. “He means well, okay! Darius is really gentle most of the time, he’s just looking out for me, that’s all!”

“He once took on a tough Gobbue by himself when Lara had gotten injured.” Alphinaud told G’raha while the girls play-bickered. “By the time anyone had found the two of them, it had been utterly destroyed and Darius refused to let anyone touch her until she reassured him. Otherwise he’s quite docile.”

“I shall make a note to introduce myself to him properly at a later date.” G’raha nodded while finally grasping why Lara would want black mage type barding for her chocobo. Most thaumaturges and black mages tended towards wearing eyepatches. No one was ever certain if there was a function to that, or if it was merely part of the aesthetic. He didn’t know enough of them to ask after such a trivial thing, so he put it away in a dark corner of his mind. “This hallway is nice, though. I wonder what the rest of it will be--” His words froze in his throat.

The group had finally made it to the aetheryte platform that led the crowds to the different sections of the Gold Saucer. Down one path, he could see an event being held that seemed to require a lot of precision jumping. From the way the room was set up, it was the source of many such games of skill. Down another hall was a stage that was currently setting itself up. For what? He wasn't sure. And through the final hall was a gigantic figure of a cactaur with a smiling face, beckoning new customers to join the fun there. Meanwhile, every inch of the place was bright and shining. It confused his senses enough to no longer know what time it had become.

He was finding he was increasingly caring less and less about the time.

Lara handed vouchers to everyone. “This should be enough to get everyone started, but after that you’re on your own. Unless you ask politely, then maybe I’ll help.” She winked.

That got her a series of groans from her friends who were more her age. Even Roger rolled his eyes.

“Shall we go further in, then?” G’raha ventured.

“Let’s!” Lara declared as she led the way. He couldn’t help but smile and follow.

[ever-searching]

Companion piece to FFXIVWrite #30

Since my writing for the FFXIVWrite prompt #30: Splinter (which can be found here) included a lot of different AUs which I’ve never talked about, I thought that I could write a companion piece which tells a bit more about them. I decided to also add short descriptions of each character's “main universe” versions for clarity.

Short summaries can be found below. Be warned that the text may contain minor story spoilers for the FFXIV main scenario story line until the early bits of Shadowbringers, though.

(MU = "main universe" (roleplay-verse), WoL = Warrior of Light (canon storyline), First = Norvrandt version)

Cain

MU Cain: An adventurer/odd-jobs from Thanalan who is trying to make his mark and struggles with impostor syndrome a bit. Lived on the streets from Calamity until roughly 7th Astral Era. Somewhat snarky at times, but at his core an awkward nerd. Thaumaturge with basic knife-fighting skills.

WoL Cain: Starts off very enthusiastic but gradually gets tired of everyone expecting that he solves their problems and nobody giving him even a small break. Got off the streets a year or two earlier than the MU Cain but still inherited his self-negligent ascetic lifestyle. Possibly snarkier than the other versions. Black Mage / Dark Knight.

First Cain / “Kayneth”: Son of a miner couple from Twine who left to seek better life in Eulmore; he either wasn't taken along or didn’t manage to become a bonded citizen. Eventually, his path lead him to Crystarium, where he became an adventurer. Lost his eyesight at some point when something clawed him in the face but navigates using aether.

Narangelel

MU Narangelel: A wanderer/hunter from the Azim Steppe who came to Azeroth to sate her wanderlust and find something that would fill the emptiness she feels. Placid and polite but sometimes a bit apathetic, perhaps. Lancer, though also somewhat effective with knives.

WoL Narangelel: Leaves the Steppe a few years earlier than MU Nara. Still hasn't found what she is looking for, but although her work is hard, she feels oddly at peace with it. Possibly fascinated by dragons after acquiring a dragoon soulstone. Represents Kha tribe rather than Mol during the Naadam (possibly negotiating a temporary alliance between the two tribes beforehand) and turns down Magnai’s proposal, though politely (because he'd definitely make one). Dragoon / Rogue.

First Narangelel / “Naldia”: Adventurer who hunts monsters and sin eaters as her profession. Has traced her origins to the Kingdom of Voeburt but hasn’t yet managed to visit Il Mheg. A bit more world-weary than the other two versions.

Storm

MU Storm: Former magical murder machine / Garlean conscript from Gyr Abania, current book merchant / artisan living in Ul'dah. Nicknamed ‘Stoneface' for a reason. Aether sensitive. Has a fairly strict code of honour. Helps the downtrodden when he can, particularly if they are magically capable. Arcanist with elemental spells and no carbuncles.

WoL Storm: Ends up helping Momodi with something, and somehow that leads to Storm becoming the Warrior of Light. Has a lot of conflicted feelings for a very long time, particularly when the events take him to Gyr Abania; eventually, the Ala Mhigans (some of who might recognize him) forgive him for his past deeds. Possible dad figure for some Scions. Summoner / Gunbreaker; still rarely uses egis or healing spells.

First Storm / “Forgiven Remorse”: An unfortunate Hume who got turned into a sin eater. Might have been a powerful mage and/or a powerful soldier, but he is doomed to get struck down. (A short post about this version can be found here.)

G’ilas

MU G’ilas: A cheerful adventurer/treasure hunter from Abalathia’s Spine who served the Maelstrom as a field medic until Cartenau. Usually an optimist and even something of a joker, but dislikes being pressured and doesn’t take it well if he is unable to save someone. Conjurer, though he does carry a knife.

WoL G’ilas: As the MU one, except that his adventuring path lead him to meet with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. While he remains fairly cheerful and smiles often, the losses and failures he has suffered in the course of his journeys have given his optimism a slightly desperate edge at times: he might not have met any of his closest companions in this timeline, which gives him a shakier foundation. White Mage, and possibly a Samurai.

First G’ilas / “Gae-Satt”: A relaxed Mystel living a life of luxury in Eulmore. Still friendly and happy-go-lucky, but doesn’t seem to be interested in adventuring in the least.

Merces

MU Merces: Allagan bodyguard/soldier clone who slumbered in Azys Lla for millennia before getting freed by a band of adventurers (namely G‘ilas and his friends). Chose G’ilas as his new master, but is slowly learning to live without constantly serving someone. Still sometimes feel like a fish out of (temporal) water. Polite, somewhat curious and very serious-minded. Gladiator, but adequate with more or less all melee weapons.

WoL Merces: Rather than having been forgotten or left in Azys Lla, this version of Merces was placed in the Crystal Tower and awakened after the beginning of the 7th Umbral Era. As he never found a master, he might feel and act even more detached from the world than the MU Merces. Gladiator / Lancer / Samurai.

First Merces: Doesn’t exist. Allagan Empire never existed in Norvrandt, and the person he was based on probably lived and died centuries earlier.

Sasameru

MU Sasameru: A Dunesfolk researcher with a passion for studying magic, though his own aetherial capabilities are almost non-existent. Amiable but a bit absent-minded at times. Runs a bookshop. May or may not do some shady business as an informant and a code cracker as a side-business, encouraged by his family.

WoL Sasameru: Doesn't exist. Would require Sasameru more capable in manipulating aether, and if that was the case, his backstory might have taken quite a different turn.

First Sasameru / "Samugg"?? "Samsard"??: A researcher working at the Cabinet of Curiosity in Crystarium. While I originally intended to keep his race the same, Lalafells/Dwarves are quite rare and reclusive, which made me reconsider... so it's also possible that First Sasameru would in fact be a Galdjent (as their naming scheme would work well with his name).

Lumien

MU Lumien: A soft-hearted, somewhat clumsy and insecure Elezen from Gridania who struggled and failed to become a Wood Wailer, then ran from home and tried to become a Gladiator in Ul'dah, and then became a retainer. Has some aptitude with conjury but doesn't (yet) know how to utilize his potential nor fully believe in it. Writes poems and likes cats. Gladiator / Conjurer, though both only on very basic levels.

WoL Lumien: Didn’t give up on Gladiator training before he encountered Thancred and so remained one. After he gets introduced to the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, he doesn’t initially realize (or accept) that he is the Warrior of Light. Learns to control his nerves to a degree, which makes him less clumsy in battle, and that in turn helps him to become a bit more confident; still writes poetry and remains fairly shy. Knows that he can't save everyone but still tries, even though it hurts. Paladin / Conjurer.

First Lumien / "Lyriath": The son of bandits/poachers who has been dragged into the life of crime; hates what he is doing but doesn't think he can escape it. Insecure and downhearted, and has an occasional tendency to make a martyr of himself.

Haldswys

All three versions follow roughly the same theme of "boisterous bruiser", though the WoL version and particularly the First version have probably gained quite bit more scars than the MU version.

Chaz

MU Chaz: Self-proclaimed "wisdom hunter" who left Ishgard after he wasn't allowed to study in the Scholasticate. Loves books and does anything and everything to get them, including stealing. Somewhat bratty and arrogant, but still probably a jerk with a heart of gold. Rogue with some improvised Astrologian skills.

WoL Chaz: At some point, his paths crossed with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, and one thing lead to another until he found himself being the saviour of Eorzea. Still sometimes puts an act of a know-it-all, speaks snarkily and/or refuses to do things that he doesn't like, but he is surprisingly dedicated to saving the world. Besides, being a hero has given him a way into some restricted libraries, so he can't really complain, can he? Astrologian / Ninja.

First Chaz / "Sawes": A guard defending Crystarium. While he doesn't exactly love fighting, has become somewhat nonchalant about fighting over the course of years, at least as long as he isn't in mortal danger. Visits the Cabinet of Curiosity on his days off and has probably read a large number of the books there.

Brenda

MU Brenda: A travelling minstrel who carries their father's Red Mage soulstone in the hopes that it will either react to them or that they will find someone worthy of it. A bit awkward but strives to look and act like a hero. Archer.

WoL Brenda: Runs into the Scions of the Seventh Dawn and accompanies them, thinking that one of them might be the worthy holder of the soulstone. In general, they probably spend a good while thinking that they're just accompanying the real heroes to record their story or being the replacement hero until the real one is found; they are convinced only when the soulstone ends up choosing them. Red Mage / Bard.

First Brenda / "Brinaette": A citizen of the Crystarium known to perform at the Wandering Stairs. Probably very knowledgeable or at least interested in the history of Norvrandt. Might also be an adventurer although singing and playing guitar are their biggest passions.

[bloodsworn-marshal]

Headcanons - Pipin Tarupin

[[ Just wanted to throw one more thing on here for awhile and its something I’ve thought about doing since I made the Canon bit for Pipin. Not saying this is complete and I’m sure I’ll add onto it in time... but! I wanted to throw down a lot of my headcanons for Pip and this is certainly a start for it. Consider it incomplete and always growing. So without further ado... ]]

Childhood:

Had a rough childhood in impoverished Ul’dah where he lived in the slums.

Took on a number of odd jobs to try and support that family, as soon as he was able enough to move and use his hands.

On that note, Pipin is a little claustrophobic after working in the mines and other smaller spaces. Particularly fears being underground for long periods of time especially.

Had a terrible relationship with biological parents despite wanting to do nothing but please. They were caretakers to him and nothing more.

Despised his father the most while doing his best to appease the man’s wishes. Anything Pipin managed to get his hands on of any worth, his father would take it from him immediately to fuel his gambling and alcoholic addiction.

His mother was either not present enough in his life to matter or she was gone before he really knew her. Pipin is bitter towards her regardless, for leaving him at the mercy of his father.

Street smart spud! As a kid he roamed around as far and wide as he could, making many friends with other kids on the streets that had nothing better to do. Probably played the leader in their games.

Had his own little secret treasures and was a collector of interesting things and knick-knacks. What personal belongings he had, he stashed away in secrecy to have something of his own.

A little spitfire who got into bounds of mischievous ploys and trickery. Quite reckless in the amount of antics he’s gotten up to.

Older Pipin no longer remembers a good chunk of his childhood, having put his past to the past and leaving it that way. Old names and faces he might have known at one point—he’s put away to never touch again.

Teenager:

Presumably assigned to Raubahn after Nanamo pardoned the man from what would have been his death match.

During his teenage years, he had to be disciplined a lot into how he is in present day. This is when his impatience began to really shine, with his father having to hunker down and teach him otherwise.

Spent most of his time focused solely on learning the blade and not much else. Always watching his father’s gladiatorial fights and learning something new as he grew in strength.

Took on his own form of fight style, personified by watching many a gladiator match. Thus does his skills and sword work come off as flashy and stylish.

Started to grow out his hair like his father, learning how to braid and maintain it.

His relationship with Raubahn, although very personal to begin with, still had its rocks and turns. Times where they couldn’t understand the other and had their occasional disputes. Their relationship during these times is more that of a mentor and apprentice, while slowly strengthening their bonds.

Early Adult:

Did not learn how to read and write till at least the age of 18 once he was free of the coliseum. Took this time to study and get a grasp for reading and writing. To this day, his handwriting is still a bit of a messy scrawl…

Once he started to meet with Nanamo more because of his father’s position, it was apparent the two did not get along at first with something alike to a sibling-ish rivalry.

Took a liking to alcohol not only for the joy derived from it, but also to deal with PTSD and the terrible nightmares he occasionally had.

When the Immortal Flames were first founded, his father had him began from the bottom up as a way to humble his growth. Though Pipin just as quickly rose in ranks regardless.

Treats the Immortal Flames like his own family.

MSQ:

Had a rough time sitting still and awaiting news of his father after arriving back to Ul’dah only to find him locked away. Might have stolen some short opportunities to talk with Raubahn in secret before he was moved, learning all that he could in the short span of time they had. His mood only worsened after Ilberd had taken him away for execution, with Papashan and Urianger having to hold him back from taking matters into his own hands.

Took great care of Raubahn once he had been rescued. Going as far as to help him with a new set of clothes and cape he’d procured in secret as a surprise.

Were it not for the WoL, Pipin firmly believes he and his father would have dominated in the grand melee.

Felt incredibly awful about the attack on Rhalgr’s Reach.

Created a joint effort with Raubahn concerning Fordola and the new squadron of Flames Summoners, with the occasional assistance of Arenvald.

Other/Miscellaneous:

Food preference wise, prefers spicy, savory, and bitter flavors. Can’t stand having sweets for long.

NEEDS his morning coffee.

Doesn’t know how to cook but sure can brew a whole assortment of drinks.

Loves to travel and loves to learn more about other cultures. If it weren’t for his position, he’d travel the whole world over and then some.

Considers spriggans to be little bastards.

Loves jokes and puns. Especially dark humor.

Has a complex to always wanting to prove himself… leading to instances of competitiveness.

Enjoys playing detective and bringing crooks to justice.

When speaking with just about anyone, he typically uses titles and formalities when addressing a person. Or at the very least, use one’s whole name… but never just their first name only.

Basically lives and breathes in his Immortal Flames uniform. He’s beginning to pull together something of a nice wardrobe for himself though.

It’s actually canon but let’s say it again—this boy sings. And probably dances just as well. Probably doesn’t publicly sing of course—but wouldn’t be against joining into a little shanty tune or two.

Relations:

Raubahn – This man is just a lot of things to Pipin. A best friend, a mentor, a father, his savior… for all that he is, Pipin almost worships him for it. And truly, the two are near inseparable. Everything and anything is shared between the two. Should one try to hide something, the other will instantly be able to tell when something is up. Their relationship is a great one… making it hard for Pipin when it finally came time for them to go their own separate ways. Now that Pipin has become the new Flame General, he has grand shoes to fill! And a lot more to learn than simply traveling abroad to the next big war. He still calls Raubahn up from time to time and even goes to visit when able, catching each other up on whatever occurred since they last spoke.

Nanamo – Aside from Raubahn, Nanamo is the next closest person Pipin has known for quite some time. She knows about his circumstances as much as Raubahn does—and they sort of grew up around one another the moment he had his freedom. Their relationship can feel as though they are brother/sister at times, with Raubahn feeling like the father figure for them both. With childish bickering and all. Over time that feeling went away and they became more as friends who can confide in one another in privacy, lending their full trust to each other. Pipin might wish for more than that at times… but he stays his tongue and does not speak up on said feelings. Instead simply vowing his life to hers first and foremost, an oath that she would always be the first priority.

Papashan – A role model he looks up to! Pipin depends on Papashan for advice of all sorts. He first came into contact with him directly after the Bloodsands while he allied with the Sultansworn and Royalists. He’s depended on Papashan time and time again when having to deal with the Sultana at times… as well as tested his blade against the other’s more experienced blows. Though the man is retired, Pipin still checks in with him from time to time.

Cocobuki – Became close friends after the events of the Calamity. Pipin assisted him with becoming the newfound guild leader of the thaumaturges and struck up something of a bargain between the two. Because of their close (if not profitable) friendship, they tend to go to each other when they really need the other’s assistance or input. Many times before has Cocobuki answered Pipin’s calls to war, while Pipin would dig up and investigate things for Buki in turn. Not only that, but it would seem a good bit of Pipin’s dark humor originates from associating with this man a little too much.

Swift – Friends since the founding of the Immortal Flames! Pipin considers Swift to be like family, a piece that’s always been there despite the many changes up to the present. Swift enjoys picking and teasing on the young marshal, something Pipin doesn’t mind so much as they are always joking and bantering together.

Ilberd – A man Pipin despises and wishes he could have the opportunity to end with his own two hands. He loathes the one whom was once called Raubahn’s friend, just as much as he hated the former marshal who betrayed his father’s trust if not more so. Had he the chance…

Alphinaud – Pipin is rather protective over the twins, especially Alphinaud. When he went to rescue the lad from the Crystal Braves, he saw a little bit of himself in the elezen. But another youth trapped behind bars and adults, caught in the game the Monetarists played in Ul’dah. He took down a whole group of Crystal Braves just to rescue this boy he had not once met before, if only not to see another go through the same trials that he had.

Hien – Though only having met a fair few times, Pipin finds himself enamored by the Doman leader. Certainly the sort of person he’d love to sit down with and have a round of drinks over their bantering. With the strength Hien displayed at Ala Mhigo and Ghimlyt Dark proper, Pipin thinks the two of them could be great friends.

Arenvald – An adventurer that Pipin has taken a bit of an interest in. They’ve been on a few missions together during their war in Ala Mhigo… and have since kept in contact regarding the joint mission he has set up with Fordola. Probably not the likeliest of friends, and yet they finds themselves next to each other in combat quite often.

Kan-E and Merlwyb – While not close exactly, he’s met with the other city-state leaders numerous times. Close enough that they have listened to him when situations were dire or when Nanamo could not answer, so he would in her stead. They’re not exactly the sort of people he would wish to hang around often, but he’s coming around to talking to them more since his promotion.

Zenos – He still wants a Round 2 fight with this guy.

Monetarists/Brass Blades (In General) – Has a grand dislike for monetarists, considering all of them to be crooks and thieves. He will never trust one right off the bat and would rather avoid them at all costs. If he had a say in the matter, he’d jail every single one of them. That and their brass blades which are known to turn a blind eye in lieu of bribery.

[inviouswriting]

From my primal au. A little before the save. Re writing the interactions.

Some smut in here and written mobile will cut later today.

Pairings. Aymeric x Kiya and Divinity x Estinien.

"Kivera. I have been asked to do something. I don't want to do." Divinity speaks knowing the angel can hear her. She feels her presence around her as much as Midgarsormr.

Kivera knows the look too well. She takes her seat next to her love and tugs her in.

"I am aware, her name is on my list." Kivera knows and Divinity looks at her. She knows there isn't much that can sway her once a name has reached it.

"You should have seen him. He was beside himself when he asked me to do it. Like the world is ending for him." Divinity feels a little powerless in her abilities and looks at her guardian for an answer and sees a gentleness in her normally hard features.

"Divinity, you of all people know a soul isn't lost until they have died. If she is still in there... perhaps I can scribble her name off this once." Kivera touches one of the curls that hangs from Divinity's head and toys with the end of it.

Divinity leans into her touch finding comfort. She had missed seeing her face in all the years she spent in the world and before being blind.

"What would you have me do?"

"Treat her the way you did me. With kindness. They're not doomed. Not yet at least. If anyone can pull a soul from the void. It is a healer from beyond a void." Kivera explains and waits for her to understand. A smile on her face.

"Should I tell Aymeric, that there is a chance to save his wife?"

"No, because the off chance it fails. It would drive him more into despair. Now, under my protection. Go and see this soul." Kivera places a kiss on the orange stars that decorate Divinity's face.

It took a few days to reach Dusk Vigil and outside was a group of temple knights, including Aymeric.

Aymeric regards Divinity with a nod, and waits for her to prepare herself. He clasps hisbhands together in a silent prayer to Halone to grant his beloved, Kiya, rest from her imprisonment within the primal.

Divinity gives him a smile and he is unsure why she is smiling. Perhaps it is a warrior of light thing.

"Have faith, Ser Aymeric." Another knight says, and Aymeric sighs as he sees the door close behind the group going in.

"How can I have faith when I sent people in there to slay her. I just pray some miracle brings her back to me. Or at least gives her a swift death." Kivera sees this exchange and something stirs in her. The look on Aymeric's face mirrors her own heartache when she lost Damien.

"You owe me Divinity." Kivera slips into the void.

Inside the heart of Dusk Vigil, Divinity is met with the being Mormo. The Thaumaturges guild thought her destroyed along time back when Kiya was warrior of light.

When Divinity looks at her she sees grief, heartache, and pain in the succubus form. Very thin but the scythe she carried she watches it knowing the reach because of Kivera's preferred weapon of choice.

The fight was hard, and there is as moment when the Paladin with then struck a blow. Divinity without thinking sends a spell of cure to Kiya. Enough light to stir something in the being. She falters and for a moment sees the form change.

"Aymeric! I am sorry!" Quiet sobs are made as she waits for the inevitable.

The knight was about to deliver a death blow.

"Stop! Don't kill her! Let me try something!" Divinity dashes in front of the paladin who scoffs at her for being stupid. But sheathe her sword and backs off.

"If you fail she dies."

"I am aware of that."

Divinity approaches Kiya and kneels next to her.

"Kiya?" She sees her head turn to her.

"He sent you here didn't he? To kill me.. it is like him. Thinking of me in the very end." Kiya says with a sad smile.

"He misses you. I can tell. His eyes give away his feelings. He is hopeful." Divinity tries. The other warriors around keeping their guards up.

"But I have summoned a primal.." Kiya curls in herself feeling the power inside starting to flare up. Divinity places her hands on her shoulders and casts another spell of cure and forms a dome around them.

"You we're trying to do the right thing. You just were misled and guided wrong. And this thing took over you in a moment of weakness. You didn't summon it. She did. And she needs to leave!" A surge of holy is sent through Kiya to expel Mormo out. The knight with them seizes the chance to slay Mormo.

Once the magic dissipates Kiya's magic in her clothing fades leaving her bare. The miqo'te collapses into Divinity's arms and starts to cry into her chest sobbing Aymeric's name and asking him to forgive her until she passes out.

One of the temple knights sees her and offers to carry her.

"I think it best I take her to Aymeric." Divinity takes off her robe and covers Kiya in it before lifting her up to carry her on her back. The paladin shakes her head.

"Softie." And takes her leave.

Divinity approaches the entrance to the dungeon and sees Aymeric's face lit with worry and grief again. He sees Kiya clung to her back fists tight on Divinity's shoulders.

Green eyes peek over the shoulder and sees Aymeric then looks away to the side. She misses the light returning to Aymeric's eyes and joy spreading through him.

"Kiya?! Pray tell me.. My Kiya?" He approaches the side, Kiya looks away flustered and buries her face into the back of Divinity's head.

"Come now, you have something to tell him? You were crying it." Divinity sets her down and Aymeric takes Koya by her shoulders and has her look into his eyes, his hands on both sides of her face so she can't look away.

"Aymeric... I... I am so sorry!!!! Please forgive me!!!" Aymeric's features soften and Divinity witnesses something she hasn't seen in a long time. Pure love. She smiles then laughs when Aymeric tugs on Kiya's face pinching her cheeks.

"My love.... MY love! I will not forgive you for what you did." He sees Kiya's face falter a little and her trying to look away. He holds her still.

"Look at me. Hey, look at me." Aymeric presses his head to hers, Kiya is hopeful in her eyes.

"You can spend the rest of our lifetime together making it up to me." Aymeric says. Kiya smiles warm and Aymeric wraps his arms around her and pins her to the floor to kiss her ignoring her yelps of the cold under her.

Kiya returns the kiss, her arms wrapping around Aymeric's neck enjoying the kiss, she missed his feel and warmth.

Divinity glances over to a mirror and sees a flit from it, she smiles to herself and shakes her head.

Aymeric lifts his wife into his arms and carries her to Ishgard. Once safely seated and looked at by Whitecape. He turns a stern expression on her and pinches her face again.

"Do you have any idea how much you put me through?! What I set after you?" He squeezes her face in small tugs and ignores the sputters and protests from her.

"I'm sorry!!!"

"You better be! I am not letting you go so easy now. Three years. Hear me? Three years. No magic and no traveling. Till you are strong as you were." He pinches the end of her face again and then kisses her again. Soft and sweet.

"Understood?!?"

"Yes Aymeric!"

"Yes Lord Commander Ser Aymeric!" He corrects her.

"Yes! Lord Commander Ser Aymeric!!" She says again. Once she agrees he holds out his hand to her.

"Soul crystals." Aymeric says and Kiya hands them over to him. She runs her face and sees him tuck them carefully away in a pocket.

His expression is alot softer now and he climbs into the bed with her due to it being night. He was wearing his alpine coat and removed his boots before laying next to her.

Kiya was about to say something but is cut off with sweet kisses and him putting his ear to her chest to her her heartbeat. She then feels warmth from tears.

"Godsdamn you... I thought I was going to have to plan your funeral. I thought you were eternally lost to me." His grip on her tightens and she feels pangs of guilt in her soul. Her hands go into his hair soothing. Aymeric looks up at her from his spot and let's her comb through his hair till she touches his ears in apology.

"My dearest Aymeric. I never intended this to happen..." Kiya sees him shift up and further wraps his arms around her guiding her onto her back to lay with him. Holding her he realizes how thin she is now. He was told it would take her a few months to recover the weight loss from being without food for a few years.

It would take her years to recover her fighting strength. Kiya fits into his arms, and he has her on his side facing him

His hands going through her hair as if he can't believe she is there again.

"I know you didn't intend it. I want you to tell me everything at a future time. When you have rested some. Now sleep in my arms please." He coaxes her down and wraps her in his arms.

Kiya falls asleep soon after she listens to his slightly raised heartbeat. Kisses left on her head.

In her dreams she is visited by something. Kiya sees something shown to her, the last two years of her beloved. How Aymeric was told about her becoming a primal the look in his eyes as he decides to barricade off Dusk Vigil and hold it till a new warrior of light steps forward. How he spent his nights alone, chasing off propositions from others. The years hard in his grief, burying himself in work itself. It felt like watching someone lose their faith in life. When Aymeric met Divinity she hears the heartbreak in his voice when he asks her to take care of Kiya, to hopefully not make her suffer.

When Kiya awakens with a start she has tears streaming down her face, her startle rouses Aymeric who felt her peer into the past from the echo. He doesnt say anything only pulls his beloved back into his arms and underneath him to kiss her.

Divinity smiles from the doorframe and takes her leave. She bumps into another, Estinien. She pulls him with her, to give the pair privacy.

Divinity drags Estinien with her till they are outside the forgotten knight. She only gives him a quiet look, and he follows her knowing for what.

Estinien is led to her room and within it the first time he can take her. Tangled with her arms and legs. Drawing any sound and breath out of her. The feel of her on him.

They're not the only pair that night to experience highs. Kiya feels a different gentleness in Aymeric that night close to the first time he took her. He was cautioned on loving her to be gentle and only when she desires it. He found her wanting him and he missed her in his arms underneath him. His name breathed out in quick pants. Hers on his lips as he feels her for the first time in years.

Aymeric holds one of Kiya's hands by her head as he thrusts into her. Each movement in his hand tightens till she writhes in pleasure from him.

Kiya feels more loved when Aymeric let's go of her hands to wrap his arms around her and pull her into each movement he makes till he spills in her.

With Divinity she feels things she has never felt before in hands teasing her and her own hand held across her back with one of Estinien's.

His other hand ghosts down the middle of her spine tracing it. Feeling a sense of his own wonder at how he got there. Divinity peaks first in a hiss of pleasure and he follows her afterwards.

They lay next to each other wordless, Divinity with a calm expression to her bright eyes. Estinien wants to prod questions out of her but takes the silence instead.

With Kiya, she feels worn out and her mind numb to all else. She feels blissful, and Aymeric watches her face for anymore turmoil to her. His left hand stroking Kiya's face in soft circles on her cheek till she is lured to sleep again.

Aymeric places one more kiss on her face.

"I swear I will protect you better now."

[lal-ffxiv]

The Gladiator - Final Part - Why Be a Thaumaturge

Sofenia always worried she would have a rude awakening in life. That divided parts of herself would no longer be able to ignore each other. However, there couldn’t be a worse way to wake up than by falling on your arse with a stiff back and a pain in your neck and most of all having a smug Seeker of the Sun looking down at you.

“What are you still doing here?” U’ketzia said resetting the chair Sofenia had been previously sitting on.

Sofenia didn’t answer the Seeker and began gathering her materials. Sofenia came last night to practice Luka’s writing. While the writing was there, Luka was gone. Probably went off to wander the night when she had fallen asleep. Sofenia came to learn that it was useless to teach Luka writing during the day as the Keeper only had a still mind at night. While the reverse was also true, having Luka practice their thaumaturgy more effectively in the day.

“I didn’t say you had to leave. It’s almost dawn. Luka should be back soon and you can scold her for it.”

Sofenia frowned. There was really nothing to scold the keeper for. Luka’s reading progressed as if they already had known and only needed a reminder. Luka's writing had the two at a loss. Eventually, writing letters made Luka improve. Sofenia came across the writing the two worked on earlier this night. It had been incentive enough to write letters for the Junkmonger of the U tribe, but this time Luka wished to write something for their friend.

“What a silly thing to write. We live in the same room.” She said with a grimace to hide a smile.

“They said you work two employments and they never see you anymore.”

It was true the U’ketzia came in late last night threw off beast bloody clothes, and fell into the bed like the dead. It was her snoring that caused Sofenia to doze off.

“This room doesn’t pay for itself and it's not like Luka helps me with their running around.” Sofenia had all her materials from the table. She could have just walked out that door, but something stopped her. How could this U’ketzia dismiss the work so easily? “I’ve talked to them about it. They say you won’t let them register with the Adventurers Guild. At least them Luka would be accredited with all the odd jobs they do.”

“Luka is a dolt. They sign up to be an adventurer, they will get themselves killed within the day trying to do things they can’t because someone asked.”

“I’m amazed. I wonder what you would say about them if they weren’t your friend.”

Uketzia came into striking distance with the next word, “Don’t judge me. I know what you do and I won’t let you prey on them either. I know about your coliseum dealings. I have clients whose riches come from it. I won’t let Luka be part of it.”

Sofenia knelt only a little to let the Seeker know she didn’t scare her with her postering. “Let me remind you. I am only with Luka so much because you wouldn’t teach them to read.”

U’ketzia back away with a high laugh. “I’m impressed you’ve accomplished to teach them. In the tribe Luka was hardly able to learn to cook for their daily duties. If they had been allowed to hunt then I can’t image who could have taught them to hold a weapon.”

“Luka might not be the best thaumaturge now, but they progress more as they try more. They won’t give up if they can keep on trying.”

“I know that better than anyone! That is why they can’t try. They are a thaumaturge to keep them away from danger. I am keeping them alive. Not you.”

If anyone was watching they would have seen how they came together and apart like opponents striking blows. Neither of them realizes they were just as ready to fight physically as they fought with words. Sofenia has her hand on her hilt of the sword while U’ketiza had her hands at ready to strike or dodge a blow.

A thump in the hallway broke the focus of the two fighters.  Sofenia let out a frustrated sigh and went to the door.

“Hey! Where are you go- The Twelve! What happened?”

When Sofenia opened the door Luka’s unconscious body fell to the floor. They were breathing softly and there wasn't any visible bleeding. They must come back exhausted. Nothing some sleep wouldn’t fix. Sofenia bent over to pick Luka up, but were were out the door.

“Leave. I will take care of them.”

Sofenia wasn’t given a choice. U’ketzia seemed to be that way with everyone and everything. Her choice or no choice.

When Sofenia went into the Gladiator’s Guild later that day, Luka was already there smiling with excited eyes as they watched a sparring match.  Luka watched the clashing sword with an interest they only gave to the moon.  Luka cheered as the challenger swept the sword from his opponent's hand and had him at the end of this sword.

Once the match Luka waved her over to spot next to them.  “The guild masters gave me a new hunting log. I finished the other one last night. Did you know that Spriggns can throw rocks really far!”

“Is that where you ran off too?” Sofenia asked, not really expecting an answer as the two left the guild together.

The light in Luka’s eyes as they watched the match was something Sofenia thought of as the two rested on The Eighty Sins of Sasamo. Luka laid back exhausted from using all their aether. Sofenia saw what U’ketzia meant when Luka had reached the limit of their magic. Their eagerness to finish the fight, the frustration of limitations, the hesitation to run. Being a thaumaturge was working to curb those impulses, Sofenia saw that too. It was no doubt what U’ketzia would have wanted for Luka, distance from danger. Yet, Sofenia saw something else.  If Luka could run forward into the fight they would make out to the other side. Sofenia had to know why Luka worked so hard at something so against themself.

“Why be a thaumaturge, Luka?”

Sofenia doubted the miqo’te had heard the question. She had asked so abruptly in the silence the two were sharing.

“I couldn’t learn any of the weapons in the tribe, weapons were for hunters, so Kets said I should be a thaumaturge once we got to the city. Now we are in the city and I am a thaumaturge like Kets said.”

Luka did not look away from the sunset as they answered. Sofenia saw the curve of their lips, but it was not a smile. It was sadness disguised.

If Sofenia hadn’t asked her following question, Luka's eyes would have stayed fixed on the sun. However, the dusk took the sky for night and Sofenia asked,

“Luka what would you say to joining the gladiator’s guild? Want to try living by the sword?”

Sofenia could see the stars reflected in Luka’s moonlight eyes. Then Luka smiled that dangerously bright smile as they answered.