#Nymeia's Garden

[vishadventures]

The Deets on Vishina Vishi

B A S I C S

Name: Vishina Vishi

Nicknames: Vish

Age: Late 20s

Nameday: 17th Sun of the 1st Astral Moon

Race: Lalafell

Gender: Female

Profession: Adventurer

P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S

Hair: Brown Hair, Streaked by days in the sun

Eyes: Lavender

F A M I L Y

Parents: Merchants who traveled between Ul'dah and Limsa Lominsa frequently. They died in the calamity.

Siblings: Only child

Spouse: a fellow adventurer who goes by the name Mini Grz. Chocobo: Soleil the Loyal

S K I L L S

Abilities: Using weapons from a distance, Performing research, General knowledge of history, Gifted in the use of arcanima, alchemy

Hobbies: Gardening, treasure seeking, lounging on the beach

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Congenial, Empathetic, Determined, Loyal

Most Negative Trait: Stubborn, Naive, Anxious

L I K E S

Colors: Purple, Blue, Gold

Smells: Nymeia Lilies, The Air by Waterfalls in Limsa Lominsa, Sea Air

Textures: Leather, Silks, Linens

Drinks: Coffees, Teas, Sparkling Juices

O T H E R D E T A I L S

Smokes: Not a smoker

Drinks: A sober person

Drugs: Too serious of a person to experiment with such foolery

Been Arrested: Never; has existing relationships with most trade related organizations in Ul'dah and Limsa Lominsa

[ofdarklands]

6, 22, 49 for mitr'a?

6. Where was your OC/WoL during 1.0? What were they doing?

WELL. behold, my personal approach to 1.0 and mr grandpa's spell:

mitr'a was around in 1.0. he was one of the warriors of light. he was at carteneau. but what louisoix's spell did was use the occurring calamity's inherent instability to invoke althyk and nymeia and basically undo that year for the warriors of light. they never became them. they took the other road and did something else. they didn't die in the field because they were never there. so everyone remembers the place they used to occupy, but can't see who they were, because they were now never there. the deeds got done, but nobody did them. the confusion of this is what makes it so hard for everyone. this is why that girl that later dies in the waking sands was so convinced she was a warrior of light, because she could tell something was wrong with her own history and what she thought she had done vs what traces she had actually left in the world. she was a warrior! she just never got the same chances as she originally did again, as hydaelyn's new bet was to go all in on one warrior (for reasons we know)

so now during 1.0 mitr'a never left the shroud, and when the moon came down he woke up from a 3 day work spree to climb a tree and see a huge fuckoff dragon in the distance. mitr'a never quite noticed the strange year himself, because him not interacting with other people for months at a time while minding his own business was not actually out of the norm. also the calamity had just happened! shit was on fire! he did notice the "new" echo visions, which is what eventually brought him out of the shroud again

22. What are some of your OC/WoL's hobbies?

experimental gardening mostly. he has a bunch of little gardens hidden away with new hybrids and such around all the places he's been to. he does enjoy spearfishing a lot too. go somewhere, fish, eat, nap. very nice use of a night

49. If your OC/WoL could go anywhere in Eorzea, where would they go?

for cultural reasons probably meracydia. it's where miqo'te come from after all, and there's many songs his people have passed down from that time

he's also interested in corvos for g'raha's sake, though he does dread the fact it's apparently full of allagan shit again

he's very keen on the new expansion. wuk lamat will have a bit of difficulty keeping him on track and not disappearing for 5 days to look at corals

[wanderingviera]

Kenzie Danaan THE BASICS ––– – Age: 25 Birthday: 20th Sun of the 5th Umbral Moon Race: Rave Viera Gender: Female Sexuality: Demisexual, Pansexual Marital Status: Single Server: Crystal | Coeurl PHYSICAL APPEARANCE ––– Hair:  Long, mostly straight deep red hair. Often secured back and out of her face. Braided when entering fights. Eyes:  Amber Height: 5’ 10” Common Accessories: Black horn hair clips worn with most outfits, earrings, Meteor Survivor Ring on her right hand, Allagan Ring of Healing on her left PERSONAL ––– Profession: Reluctant Warrior of Light Hobbies: Music [singing, dancing], Gardening, Reading, Chocobo Husbandry Languages: Eorzean Residence:  Gridania, Lavender Beds, Ward 6, Plot 24 Birthplace: the Golmore Jungle Religion: Eorzean  Patron Deity:  Nymeia Fears:  Letting down those she loves, deep water, any type of food or drink that smells ‘off’ RELATIONSHIPS ––– Significant Other: None Children: None Parents: Nesryn - Mother- Still resides in the Golmore Jungle. One of the village’s primary caregivers for the children. Her father's name is unknown to her. Siblings: Too many to count nor name Pets: Kwehthulu - her Twin Adder issued chocobo, and Greystone - her prized black chocobo gifted to her by Haurchefant TRAITS ––– Extroverted / Ambivert / Introverted Disorganized / In Between / Organized Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded Calm / In Between / Anxious Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable Cautious / In Between / Reckless Patient / In Between /  Impatient Outspoken / In Between / Reserved Leader / In Between / Follower Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic Traditional / In Between / Modern Hard-working / In Between / Lazy Cultured / In Between / Uncultured Loyal / In Between / Disloyal  Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

[potassium-pilot]

FFXIVWrite 2023, Prompt 13: Check

Dia asks for very little, even though Aymeric thinks she deserves the world. So when Dia asked him to check the water levels in her garden while she was away on an overnight trip, he took on the task happily. The last letter he needed to write for the evening still smelled of fresh ink while he replaced his quill and closed his ink bottle. From there, he rose from his desk chair and headed for the patio in the back of the house. A hand pushed down a brass door handle set against a glass door and unlatched it.

As he stood outside, he noticed something different. Aymeric would be the first to admit that he hadn't come outside to practice his archery in a long time. This meant that the patio had become a bit of a stranger to him.

But no amount of time spent away from the back patio should ever make the patio warm.

In Ishgard.

It's an outdoor patio- why was it warm out here? It felt like a summer before the Calamity. There was ivy growing along the dark brick walls. The plants were left uncovered. There was not a trace of ice and snow to be found here. Fury save him, how did she make it warm? What was she doing back here? Was this Dia's doing? She had been spending quite a bit of time gardening while recovering from her injuries.

That said, she wasn't here for him to ask. And shocked as he may have been in that moment, he wasn't disappointed by this change. In fact, it felt rather...nice. Nostalgic, even. He could jump into a lake like a child again with the way the weather felt out here. He would have to bury the curiosity until she returned home- he had a task to do for her, after all.

Aymeric went to the small plots of soil set up near the door. The garden was pushed against a half-wall that overlooked what could be seen of the city, which wasn't much but a small patch of frozen grass that was elevated initially for use of the house and a piece of the walkway leading to the Aethenium Astrologicum. He knelt down and began checking after the garden, picking what Dia taught him were weeds and sticking his finger into the soil to check moisture levels. He did this across each plant in the first plot he reached before going to the second plot. Each plant was taken care of back to front.

He reached one in the front leftmost corner. When he stuck his finger in the soil, the moisture seemed fine, but he felt something wiggle against it.

Did she add worms to the soil, he assumed. I sincerely hope they don't freeze out here.

He removed the finger from the soil, but a green vine slithered outward.

"Oh!"

He stared in shock at the moving vine. While gawking, he heard a rustling of leaves and looked to its source.

The plant was moving. It was a bright glowing flower with the color of fuchsia without being one, the shape of it being closer to that of a Nymeia lily. It shuffled in place and wiggled at him. It seemed...happy?

"Er...hello..."

The plant wiggled even wilder. The vine reached out even further and wrapped itself against the finger he stuck into her soil.

"Ah! Oh, er...I-I need that."

He attempted to pull his appendages away from the leafy vines, but his resistance only made the plant constrict around him and pull him forcefully towards her. Tendrils appeared and coiled themselves around the whole of his wrist, squeezing tightly. The flower grew brighter and exuded an orange and yellow burst of aether.

Unsure of how to handle this grabby greenery, Aymeric reached for his linkpearl in his ear and tried to reach out to Dia.

It didn't even attempt to connect him to her.

This would be due to the fact that, unbeknownst to Aymeric, Dia was currently 12,000 or so years in the past. Even if it could connect their call, she was avoiding being scorched by Phoinix in its already visually challenging arena in the third level of Asphodelos at that point in time. The last time she picked up before a similar battle that took place long ago, all that could be heard was scattered screaming of words like "Clocks!" and "Ready Light Rampant!" and "Light Stacks!" He learned that day to beware of when to call her.

The plant became greedier, even more vines creeping up to pull him. Panic built up in him. Quickly, he responded using the trimmers nearby, shearing the vines off of his arm.

The plant responded by wilting at break-neck speeds, the rich green vines turning a deathly brown before scattering entirely, and the not-fuchsia falling over limply and withering before scattering to the winds. Desperately, he dug his hands into the dirt to see if anything could be done, but the dirt revealed no solutions. He stood up and covered his face with his hands.

"She asked me to do one thing..."

--------

The following day, Aymeric beat Dia home. He decided to wait for her in the parlor, reading through letters and financial plans on the settee instead of in his office. He managed to find himself so thoroughly engrossed in his work, however, that he hadn't noticed a sound in the manor until he heard a "Hi!" from the hallway.

The very sound of her greeting made him toss his papers to the coffee table beneath him and stand.

"Welcome ho- oh, Halone! Are you all right?"

Dia's face was a bit cut up and she was limping across the parlor. "Oh, don't worry, I'm fine. Nothing some painkiller and a good night's sleep won't fix. That said, it's beyond time for dinner. Let me see if anything bloomed in the garden for me to use."

"Er...about that, Dia..."

She looked him in the eye. "What?" She asked.

"Well...let me start by saying that I sincerely apologize for what I've done."

"Aymeric, what did you do?" Dia asked with ever-increasing concern in her words.

"When I was attempting to care for the garden, I...I killed one of your plants."

The disappointment on her face was palpable. A frown deepened into her face and her eyes became sadder than he had seen them in a while. "Noooo", she whined.

"I'm deeply, deeply sorry, Dia."

"Which one was it?" She demanded as she headed for the back patio in a rush. Aymeric followed behind her.

"An odd looking flower. 'Twas shaped like a Nymeia lily, but it glowed purple."

She seemed confused at first, but upon opening the door and seeing what spot was empty, she understood perfectly.

"Ohhh, this one! You scared me!" She smiled to him. "Don't worry, she's not dead", she explained while she walked to the empty spot and knelt down.

"She?" Aymeric repeated.

"She", Dia affirmed. She dug her hands into the soil and tried to coax it out with kind words. "You can come back now. It's all right." The soil glowed for a moment, but nothing happened. "He won't hurt you, I promise." Once again, a glow, but no flower. She sighed exasperatedly. "Aymeric, I need you to apologize to the flower."

"A...apologize to the flower?"

"Yup."

He blinked, tried to gather his senses, then slowly approached the gardening plot. "What's...the name of the flower?"

"'Flower'. I'm not good at names."

"You named the Grand Company of Eorzea."

"I stole Alphinaud's idea from before he developed the Crystal Braves. Had it been mine, you all may well have been called 'The Best Friend's Club.'"

He gave an amused smile. "I love you." He turned back to the plot and began with, "Flower...I humbly apologize for my conduct. I acted out of fear, and for it, you were gravely hurt. Now that I know what you are, I will endeavor not to use such injurious methods against you again. Pray forgive me."

With another glow, the flower began to emerge from the soil once more.

"There we go. A genuine apology seems to have done the trick. Nice one!" Dia began to examine it. "Now what's come of you, girl?" The flower showed Dia the damage committed against her. "Oh, your vines! Oh, that must have hurt!" With orange and yellow aether, the vines began to slowly stretch out again. Soon, it was as though they were never cut. "Much better."

Dia turned to Aymeric. "So what'd she do?"

"She grabbed hold of my hand and would not let it go. I'm afraid I allowed panic to guide me in that instant and clipped her vines."

"Ahhh, yeah, she can be a bit of an attention hog. There's a point here", Dia pointed to the back of the flower, just underneath the petals. "Massage it a bit and it loosens her up without hurting her."

"Ah. Dia?"

"Yes?"

"What have you wrought with this?"

Dia laughed to herself. Staring at the flower fondly, she asked, "Do you remember when I was first making progress in recovering, and I was having trouble casting spells? Captain Whitecape hypothesized that all the Dynamis that saved me might have also interfered with my ability to manipulate aether, not to mention the close combat messing with my reflexes and fine motor coordination?"

"I do."

Her voice shifted a little more melancholy as she reminisced, "Do you remember when I tried to summon Eos, she looked miserable? She wasn't glowing, her wings struggled to keep her afloat, her color scheme was ghastly pale?"

"Yes."

"Well...I needed a way to cope with that, so I turned to experimenting on a poor Nymeia lily. Using my scholar soul stone, I attempted to channel the aether that would normally be sourced by my own stockpile to create a summon from the aether of the lily. It took a lot of tinkering and a lot of research from the information contained in the Soul Stone itself about the way Nymian summons work, but I was ready to try it. I thought it might be useful for future combat if I was ever in a pinch.

But Nymian magic is not White Magic. It doesn't draw from the land, it draws from the self. It turned out that Nymian magic simply cannot ask for aether from others unless it is to aid others, in which it will augment the target's aether with arithmantic magic. So imagine my shock when I see my Nymeia lily glow, change color, and wiggle. What I had hoped would result in a fairy resulted in Flower. It turned out that what I actually did was use my aether to channel a summon, but instead of using the soul stone as a means to call upon it, the seed of the Nymeia lily itself is now the means to call upon Flower."

"So the seed of the lily..."

"...is dead, for all intents and purposes. At this point, it's effectively a summoning stone. That's why if you do one thing wrong to her, she'll seem to wilt. You can't kill what's already dead. All you really did was dissipate her...and hurt her feelings. She seems to have looked past your transgressions, however."

"I see..." Aymeric tilted his head. "I never realized flowers could be so...affectionate had they the ability to become a summon."

"They aren't, usually. That's my quirk."

"Yours?”

Dia nodded. "When I first got my carbuncle during my stint at the Arcanist's Guild, I noticed the little guy had a propensity to follow my emotional state. He'd be overjoyed when I was happy, whine when I was sad, growl at passersby when I was angry, things like that. When I asked Guildmaster Thubyrgeim why this might have been, she told me some people's summons might have deviances from the norm. In this case, my summons betray my emotional state. It's why I had to start avoiding Eos for a while. I got over it eventually, but I would have liked to have summoned her more."

"So this plant was affectionate with me because...you like me?"

"'Love' is the more descriptive term, but yes. I like you; therefore, Flower likes you. Granted, she's a bit unsure what to make of you right now, but that's why first impressions are important." Dia rubbed against her petals, then pulled back. "I should have warned you about her. I completely forgot, so that much is on me. The rest of the garden seems fine." Dia kissed his cheek and told him, "Thank you."

"Of course. Now, may you please lie down and rest your injuries? I can cook for you."

"Oh, such service!" Dia remarked playfully. Upon trying to stand up from her kneeling position, however, her hip spasmed and pain radiated up and down her leg, making her wince and collapse. "Oh, kneeling was a bad idea", she seethed, "A really, really bad idea!"

Aymeric knelt to her side and lifted her up in a way that allowed her to rest against his shoulders. "I may be rather hopeless for plants, but I can certainly tend to you." With that, he helped Dia hobble back into the house, Flower waving goodbye with her vines.

[tentacle]

Updated Profile for Anda Kha

NAME: Anda Kha

AGE: 35

SPECIES: Au Ra (Xaela)

GENDER: Male

MARITAL STATUS: married to Gaspard Richelieu

BIRTHPLACE: Othard, exact location unknown as his clan is traditionally nomadic.

BIRTH: 16th Sun, 4th Astral Moon

PATRON: Nymeia, The Spinner

CLASS: White Mage, though he’s dabbled in all kinds of magic.

PROFESSION: Adventurer, botanist, general do-gooder. Occasionally relies on his skill in alchemy to get by monetarily.

RESIDENCES: Shared housing with Gasp in Lavender Beds (always gorgeous), Rooms in <<hella>> house in Mist (empty), an apartment in Kugane (empty), and his favorite: personal house in the Brimming Heart, Goblet (WIP but I try to have a nice yard lol).

[PHYSICAL FEATURES]

HAIR: Blue black, coarse and thick. Has been known to defy gravity when shorter.

EYES: Light gray and colorless, with white limbal rings. Even when it’s completely dark, you can see a faint outline of them.

SKIN: Deep purple gray.

HEIGHT: 7' tall or taller? He's been a growing lad over the years.

BUILD: Sturdy, with muscles from gardening and his hobby: rock and tree climbing. Bulky/beefy in the arms and legs and has abs but not cut, though.

OTHER: Face is mostly covered in scales, which have grown in as he ages. Wears a slight frown when thinking or concentrating (always). Has particularly large and pointy horns, which he wears decorative caps and jewelry on to accentuate.

[FAMILY]

SIBLINGS:  Older sister, Jaran. She escaped the raid as well and made it to Limsa Lominsa first, where she became an arcanist. Has now learned her brother is alive due to his celebrity and absolutely furious he's never come to visit.

PARENTS:  Both of his parents perished in a Garlean raid.

OTHER RELATIVES: The branch of the Kha Clan Anda hails from was attacked by Garleans and have not been seen or heard from since. This attack is what created the necessity of his escape to Eorzea.

ANY PETS?: yes [ x ] || no [   ] Absolutely adores his chocobo, Nergui. Anda is like a disney princess when it comes to nature walks. Has been caught meditating, covered in butterflies, in his husband's garden.

[ATTRIBUTES]

• STRENGTH – Good. He is a caster by definition but spends a lot of time walking, gardening, and climbing mountains. His biceps are where he stores all his crits.

• DEXTERITY – Fairly centered, but nothing spectacular. Has been known to drop things when lost in thought. Horrendous sense of rhythm, but he dances anyway. Loves to braid hair and weaves crowns and baskets.

• CONSTITUTION – Exceptional. Anda is particularly fond of very cold and very hot climates and spends a lot of time outdoors without shelter. He prefers to sleep under the stars. Never gets sick.

• INTELLECT – Middling. Able to learn advanced concepts when he applies himself, but he prefers the spiritual connection with nature and the elements that comes with practicing conjury, so he rarely does. Has a passion for botany with a particular focus on medicinal plants and dabbles in alchemy.

• WISDOM – Good. Incredibly practical and calm, he is very good at giving advice. The only time his judgment falters is if someone flusters or angers him, which is difficult unless you are very close to him. Very observant when he doesn’t have his head in the clouds.

• CHARISMA – Fair. He is not gregarious by any means, but has a quiet, warm presence that most people enjoy. Quiet to a fault, he can get dragged into things that have nothing to do with him because he rarely disagrees with someone aloud. His silence, intense gaze, and sometimes imposing stature can be intimidating, but he’s a big softie at heart. He's been a loner most of his life because he's impossible when it comes to flirting, but he and his husband finally became a couple after a lot of awkward chats in the Rising Stones bar.

• COMELINESS - Anda puts very little effort into his appearance and usually has some garden dirt or traveling dust on his clothes. However, he cleans up very nicely and has an intense look that some find attractive, though he’s terrible at dating.

[TRAITS]

—— POSITIVE ——

• Fair

• Thoughtful

• Kind

• Loyal

—— NEGATIVE ——

• Neglectful

• Tactless

• Serious

• Workaholic

[LIKES]

COLORS: White, black, dark neutrals. Loves red. Corpse Blue is a signature color.

SMELLS:  Patchouli, mango, and tea. He loves all smells of nature, doesn’t mind unpleasant plant or dung smells. Feels incredibly comfortable in Radz-at-Han despite it being a bit busy.

FOOD: Fish, vegetables, hot peppers, and honey. Generally eats most things raw.

FRUITS: Loves mangos and any stone fruit. Berries. Able to eat even the stickiest of fruits quite neatly.

DRINKS: Juices and clean spring water. Partial to tea for a hot drink and he definitely wouldn’t say no to hot chocolate.

ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES?: yes [   ] || no [    ] || occasionally [ x ] he likes wine but is a total lightweight

GIFTS: Anda loves gifts no matter what they are. The thought of someone liking him enough to give him a gift is a gift in itself to him. He is a good gift giver, but can get caught up in searching for the perfect one that it will often be late. He likes food, poetry books, seeds, and wood carvings as well as more practical gifts, like armor or clothes.

[DISLIKES]

COLORS: Orange, yellow, and he doesn’t like to wear green.

SMELLS: Exhaust. City smells. Ceruleum also bothers him.

FOOD: He doesn’t like milk or cheese.

FRUITS: Melons.

DRINKS:  Ale, coffee, anything bitter.

ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES: He doesn’t dislike the taste of alcohol, but he has a bad habit of ending up naked in the middle of the desert when he drinks.

GIFTS: Flashy or impractical items.

[OTHER DETAILS]

SMOKES? yes [   ] || no [ x ]

DRUGS?: yes [  ] || no [ x ]

EVER BEEN ARRESTED?: yes [ x ] || no [   ] he will get into a physical altercation to protect someone

[an-ishgardian-tale]

An Entry from the Memoirs of Viviane Jienuex

Life is never boring for a Seer. There are times I have questioned whose life I was actually living, mine or someone else's. Since I was a young girl I would have these visions some seemed to be of a time long ago in a place I cannot fathom existing and then there are those who come from these futuristic places where beings are able to travel through time and space. As a history with certain things on her side that have helped gain access to works many would not be privvy to. I know that not all on this Star is out in the open, though I hope Nymeia guides the powers that be to a day that all of Hydalean knows the truth.

There are times I have been told that my visions are dreams, perhaps I would believe that if my eyes were in fact closed when I saw these things. I did read a study not too long ago that reported that there had been casual observations of people of various races sleeping with their eyes open. I am sad to report I am not one of them. I can still hear, smell and interact with things around me even in a full blown vision.

Lately I have had visions of a world vastly different from this Star. I do not know if it exists or if it is even anywhere near us if it does but I know that what I have found there is visions of a love story.

Oh it is a sad one too. Two beings from the same race kept apart by circumstances beyond their control. He a child of one side, her the child of the other and never should the two mingle.

It is quite a treat when I see such things, I often sit to write about them after just to keep a record of the vast amount of places I have been. Why Nymeia grants me these visions is beyond me some I am meant to act upon while others I am merely meant to witness since I have no way to do anything else. They are not always pleasant visions either. Some have or had dreadful outcomes, some ended in tragedy and there was even one where everyone was stuck playing games for these brightly colored bean creatures that involved making perilous jumps or dodging sharp axes that swung like pendulums that threatened to cut one in half. One thing I will give them, they are never boring!

I still remember the first I ever had. It was winter in Ishgards and I was a wee Elezen of five. I had been in the Garden building a snowman in the yard when suddenly I was no longer in the yard but in another place where a great dragon saved an Elezen older than I from certain doom at the hands of the Ixal. It carried the boy to his home and his parents. A single mark, a sigil on his inner arm blessing him with the magic of heretics so that he would grow brave and strong. The Dragon was kind, almost sweet to this family and no harm came to any that day or for a very long time. The boys magic was more potent than any of his families and he grew to be a great protector until his sister in a fit of rage and greed stole his magic by replacing his eye with hers and vice versa so that they were bound together forever and he could never love anyone more than her.

Such a fairy tale is was but I had it many of times over the span of cycles from then till now. I will never know if it happened somewhere at some time only that it could have and so is life when you are blessed with Fate's eyes. Oh the tales I could tell to those who found time to listen. Perhaps I shall write books when I am old, gray and retired from performing.

V.S.M

[1shepherd7wanderers]

Hohoka Hoka

Basics

Race & Clan: Dunesfolk Lalafell Pronouns: she/her Sexuality: Demisexual & demiromantic Age: 21 (ARR), 25 (EW), 26 (post-EW) Birthdate: 13th Sun of the 3rd Astral Moon Guardian: Nymeia

Titles: Warrior of Light, Scion, Minduruva's Blessed (when she was younger), Warrior of Darkness, Hope's Legacy, Archon

Physical Attributes

Height: 3 ft (36.2 in) Eye Color: Yellow, almost like yellow citrine. After SHB, her left eye is lighter than her right eye. Hair Color: Blonde with red highlights Hair Style: different variations of up and out of her face. well maintained Distinguishing Marks: archon tattoo on the outside of her right bicep post 6.2

Profession & Education

Profession: Adventurer & scholar Languages: Common, Thavnarian, and some Lalafellin Education: tutored by a Student of Baldesion with a specialization in elemental aether. Continued/continuing her education post-EW Degree: Archon mark received for her work with Light and Dark aether post-6.2 Current Endeavors: recreating and improving upon her tutor's job, Elementalist (ELM)

DOW: MNK, PLD, DRK, SAM, BRD, DNC, NIN, WAR, MCH, GNB DOM: RDM, BLM, WHM, SMN, SCH, AST, SGE DOH: WVR, GSM, ALC, CRP, LTW, BSM, ARM, CUL DOL: BTN, MIN

Residence

Place of Birth: Alnair, Thavnair

Apartment: The Sultana's Breath, Ward 10, No. 5, The Goblet. Bought just before the Bloody Banquet and it's her home in Ul'dah FC House: A small plot in Gridania; Ward 22, Plot 19. Bought post-SHB for her friends to have a safe space. She has a study in the FC house (found in her non-canon FC's house) Temporary Residence: The Baldesion Annex where she currently finds herself a lot as she rebuilds her tutor's job and works on writing on her experiences with aspected aether in the First and the Void. She also has a room at the Fortemps' manor, despite her telling them its okay and they can use the room for other things - she is a member of their family they said and so the room stayed

Preferences

Food: Preference towards spicy or savory foods and desserts with a light sweetness. Has a high spice tolerance. Likes curries, dodo/hamsa dishes, and grilled seafood. Dislikes stone soup. Drink: Hot drinks will always have a special place in Hoka's heart from her childhood. She doesn't like the flavor of alcohol all that much and only really drinks it when she's upset (something she tries not to do often) Likes spiced teas and lassi. Dislikes beer and strong spirits Color: Favorite color is red. Least favorite is dark green Hobbies: Triple Triad, weaving, gardening

Relationships

Affiliations: Scions of the Seventh Dawn, Immortal Flames, the Students of Baldesion, her Free Company

Family: Neyaya Neya (Mother - deceased), Susubisa Wawabisa (Father - deceased), Lolorito Nanarito (estranged granduncle), Ratata (unknown cousin on mom's side many times removed)

Like Family: Alphinaud, Alisaie, Estinien, Thancred, Urianger, Tataru, Y'shtola, the Fortemps household, G'raha, and my 7 other OCs Loves: Hades and Hythlodeus Friends: Moenbryda, Minfilia, Krile, Leofard, Chuchuto, Nanamo, Raubahn, Lalai Allies: Wymond, Pipin Enemies: Teledji Adeledji, Yayake

Additional Information

Unsundered Name: Eos

[vaelir-alatori]

A few shots from an event, in which members of Nymeia’s Garden fought against malicious sky pirates on the floating continent of Lemures.

Featuring, from left to right, Vivisha Visha (@the-firetouched), Vael Alatori, Koppli Kopi (@shamans-of-reeds), and Sechen Moks (@infiniteleft)

[weatheredpileoftomes]

enough prayers for the day

For Wondrous Tails of FFXIV, “the Twelve”. Post-Endwalker but pre-Myths of the Realm, ~750 words. Canonical character deaths, references to war and apocalypse; spoilers through 6.0.

It’s not as simple as having a single guardian deity, for most people.

Whenever she’s asked, Frydlona says she gives her first devotion to Nophica. She wasn’t born under Nophica’s moon, but Doenthota was, when Frydlona was just old enough to remember. Maybe that had been where it started.

She couldn’t have grown up in Cliffhide, daughter of a sea captain, without offering many and more prayers to the Navigator. When the seas were rough, she prayed—they all prayed—that Captain Merlgeim’s ship, or any smaller fishing boat set out alone, would come back safe. When weeks of brilliant sun left the fish wary and made the fishers come back empty-handed, it was Llymlaen they asked to bless the fishers’ casts.

But Frydlona has always liked verdant shade and leaf-dappled sunlight, rich soil under her hands and the pale perfect green of a new-sprouting seed. More than that, she likes the promise Nophica makes to provide.

If she could only choose one favor, it would be that: life abundant, for her and everyone she loves.

She does give her first devotion to Nophica, but there are days she offers more prayers to Byregot. Quick with each meal she cooks, and over any gear she needs to repair. Longer when she starts a new project, or can’t get a detail to come right.

Her rooms in Ul’dah have two shrines; his is the second. It’s the only one she brought to Ishgard when she was helping Francel with the restoration, and she’s burned incense there many a time she’s been working on a new master recipe.

It’s hard now to remember that there had been long years of Frydlona’s life when she thought of picking up a spindle when she thought of praying to Nymeia. Oh, people had died in Cliffhide, but few, and rarely, and for the most part kindly.

She grows Nymeia lilies, now. There’s never a shortage of need for them.

For the Scions buried at Saint Adama Landama’s, and all the other dead of the lichyard—the sylphs keep no graves. For Moenbryda, though Frydlona adds moon daisies as well when she can. For Minfilia, who has no grave or memorial to leave them at. For Haurchefant, and Ysayle, and all the dead of the Dragonsong War. For Sidurgu’s friend and Rielle’s teacher Fray. For Papalymo. For everyone cut down at Rhalgr’s Reach, in Doma, in the final battling to retake Ala Mhigo and all the drawn-out struggles after.

They worship different gods in Thavnair, too, but the memorial in Radz-at-Han to those lost in the Final Days is never short of offerings. Lilies are for the others, and she never has enough.

They worship different gods in Norvrandt, and honor their dead with different traditions. The Warriors of Darkness have no graves for Frydlona to bring bundles of plain sweet-scented herbs to, but neither do those lost to the sin eaters.

She still goes back—not just carrying messages between the Scions and their loved ones on the First, but visiting the friends she’d made herself and carrying on the work she’d started. The Crystarium gardens have more than space to tend those mourning herbs, and now that the soil is very slowly starting to recover they can plant and tend them.

She does bring Nymeia lilies to the ghost-filled streets of Amaurot under the sea—before Elpis, because she didn’t know what else to bring. After Elpis, because…because maybe things could have been different, this whole time, if there had been a way to say I mourn, and have it be seen.

But she brings no flowers to Garlemald and its burned-out streets, to a park sitting empty under the hollow wrecks of massive buildings. She’s afraid there are people there who would take it as mockery.

There had been a long-ago time when Frydlona thought of Nald’thal as a miner’s god, the same as she’d thought of Nymeia as a weaver’s. Her prayers had been for a true strike with sledgehammer and pickaxe, or for a rich and lovely find.

She’s never cared much for commerce, or understood that aspect of the Traders, but she’s lived in Ul’dah long enough that the thought of praying for Thal’s mercy alone isn’t strange.

Nymeia lilies were a traveler’s blessing, once.

Frydlona offers prayers to Llymlaen before journeys by sea and Oschon before journeys by road. Especially now, with the Scions scattered all over Etheirys, it seems she spends as much time thinking of Oschon as she does Byregot or Nymeia.

Guide their steps. Keep them safe.

She can spare a few lilies for this.

[yloiseconeillants]

@nocturne-dreamer​ made a lovely post about inspirations for her character, Asharri, here, and I’ve decided to shove some of my inspirations for Yloise at my beloved readers - 

Fuchsia Groan from Titus Groan (Mervyn Peake)

With what characters she had filled this lost stage of emptiness! It was here that she would see the people of her imagination, the fierce figures of her making, as they strolled from corner to corner, brooded like monsters or flew through the air like seraphs with burning wings, or danced, or fought, or laughed, or cried. This was her attic of make-believe, where she would watch her mind's companions advancing or retreating across the dusty floor.

Eleanor Vance from The Haunting of Hill House (Shirley Jackson)

She could not remember ever being truly happy in her adult life; her years with her mother had been built up devotedly around small guilts and small reproaches, constant weariness, and unending despair. Without ever wanting to become reserved and shy, she had spent so long alone, with no one to love, that it was difficult for her to talk, even casually, to another person without self-consciousness and an awkward inability to find words.

Mary Lennox from The Secret Garden (Frances Hodgson Burnett)

“I'm lonely," she said. She had not known before that this was one of the things which made her feel sour and cross.

anyway mary managed to change for the better so, *fingers crossed* for MY awful sad girl (some more minor thematic inspirations: ariadne and the minotaur [particularly as they relate to nymeia], victoria winters from dark shadows, and rose buck from upstairs downstairs)

(also if gormenghast means anything to you, i AM a steerpike hater. also also in the course of making this post i realized that i’ve written the relationship between yloise and beatin to be hilariously similar to fuchsia and dr. prunesquallor SO LOL)

[tiredassmage]

Character Profile ❅ Astor Caulfield

But the AU one. Also yes, I just took a bunch of pics in one set, shhh, am lazy atm.

BASICS ---

Name: Astor Monroe Caulfield

Age: 28 years (By approximately Heavensward)

Nameday: 17th sun of the 3rd Umbral Moon

Race: Midlander Hyur

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Bisexual

Martial Status: Single, though still mourning

OC Tags: ch: astor caulfield, vs: dragonsong (the first being his overall character tag, the second being specifically for our lovingly dubbed heretic au x,D, which this sheet is for!)

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE ---

Hair: Dark brown, usually pulled back into a single, neat braid, though occasionally simply done up in a ponytail. When free, full length hangs roughly about his mid-shoulders down his back. He somehow manages to keep it relatively neat, despite the relatively frequent travel - part of why it’s usually tied up.

Eyes: A pale crystal blue, almost gray if you catch him in the right (or wrong) lighting.

Height: 5 fulms, 10 ilms.

Build: Average, with broad shoulders.

Distinguishing Marks: Little physically that isn’t covered by general physical descriptions. The stark contrast of his dark hair and pale eyes is usually enough to stick to people, if they’re trying, and the way his hair is always braided back.

Common Accessories: Generally carries a full deck of arcanima, regardless of current job. Generally wears a relatively simple band with a small design of blue gems set into it resembling ice or crystal. A simple leather necklace with an aged, once silver (at least in color, if not partially in material) charm usually worn freely over robes and other clothing - an inheritance from his mother.

PERSONAL ---

Profession: Scion of the Seventh Dawn, he supposes, if you’d want to be technical. Generally speaking, just an adventuring companion to the Warrior of Light. Previously, a high-ranking member of Iceheart’s band, and something of an unofficial keeper of their knowledge.

Main Job: Astrologian and, later, Summoner, learned in the course of helping the Scions and Warriors of Light combat the persistent primal threat.

Hobbies: Gardening, a light and quiet enthusiast for drawing (he keeps a small journal of sketches of various landmarks and such from his adventures that he also keeps little scribbles of notes in, don’t perceive him, especially if he didn’t tell you). Let him hear of animals in need of rescue or adoption at your own risk because he’ll probably at least really consider taking them on himself. Occasionally indulges in a little fortune telling with his deck. Not that he’d admit it. And not that he’d do it for just anyone. Usually for his own peace (or opposite) of mind.

Languages: Possessed of the Echo, but native to the Eorzean Common Tongue, both spoken and written.

Residence: He hasn’t really felt settled anywhere since he left Tailfeather and Anyx Trine behind, but likely has a small retreat of a residence either somewhere in Gridania or Revenant’s Toll, so as not to be too far from Scion operations when necessary.

Birthplace: Tailfeather, the Dravanian Forelands. A little north of it, technically. But it’s the closest town, and that’ll do.

Religion: Though not exactly practicing, had offered his beliefs to the Twelve, and selected patron in Nymeia, the Spinner, though adventures since would have made him question a fair bit of things.

Fears: Disinclined to be totally alone, abandoned. Wildfires. Being manipulated and used as a tool or weapon, particularly against the few he does cherish. Not being fast enough to save someone else he loves - and, worse, not being able to do a damn thing even if he was there.

RELATIONSHIPS ---

Spouse: Ysayle. No, he’s never quite recovered, even by Shadowbringers, though he has learned to live with it, to carry his grief and move forward, instead of being held back.

Children: None, currently. Though he wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.

Parents: A father he didn’t know too well, lost to bandits on the roads when he was sixteen, and his mother, Gaia, lost when he was eighteen to illness.

Siblings: None

Other Relatives: None by blood, though the Scions are something of a found family, with time. He has also endeared himself to several of the dravanian residents of Anyx Trine, and got no small amount of delight in working with the younglings.

Pets: A hunting hawk named Zephira he nursed back to health from a broken wing.

TRAITS ---

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

HABITS ---

Smoking: Never

Drugs: Never

Alcohol: Occasionally, and only lightly. Usually socially.

ABOUT ---

Born and raised in the Dravanian Wilds to a humble hunter and trader and healer who had spent some time studying in New Sharlayan before she had left, Astor would see little of his father in his youth, though he’d know him to be a decent and loyal man. He was closest with his mother - almost insparable, they were just as much friends and as family. From her, he soaked up as much of her knowledge as she could share, eagerly taking after her in learning healing arts from conjury to the art of the astrologians. The young boy was particularly entranced with the art of drawing magic from the heavens and their representative cards. Together, him and his mother ran a small clinic from their home just north of Tailfeather, occasionally traveling into town to trade and work with the hunters there.

On one of his hunting and trading trips, his father was killed by bandits and thieves when he was sixteen, leaving just him and his mother with little closure on the who of the deed - not that it mattered. Knowing wouldn’t bring him home, and they still had lives to lead for themselves, and patients to tend to, so they carried on. Sadly, one might have said it was the first strike of tragedy, as his mother feel ill no more than two years later, and, despite his best efforts both physical and magical, her condition refused to improve until she passed shortly after his eighteenth nameday. Though the boy struggled to grieve the loss of his closest friend, he persisted their work in the clinic for two more years before the Calamity struck and changed everything as all had known it.

In the cold and snows that followed, Astor met Ysayle, and the pair of dreamers quickly grew close. Astor packed up to follow her where her dreams would lead them - into revolution, change for a better future, and an end to a war that had mired so many lives for far too long.

Over time, he became one of her most trusted comrades, filling a role akin to a second-in-command, often tending to their forces himself in the wake of skirmishes and conflict with Ishgardian forces and otherwise. When finally the Scions and the Warriors of Light entered the fray, it was with wariness and caution he met these would-be heroes. His trust would not be so easy to earn; he would not risk all they had worked for thus far - beloved, just hero of the realm or just some overzealous knights filled with lies and duty. Though, if Ysayle deemed them worthy of trust and cooperation... he would concede, for now. But he’d be keeping a very close eye on them.

Ysayle’s eventual death struck him hard and shook him to the core. He was quick to withdraw from their new would-be companions in his struggle to process the loss, though he ultimately agreed to see the battles through to the end - their vision, their dreams, could not end here. As Ishgard entered a period of reform and unrest in the wake of Thordan’s defeat and demise, Astor withdrew further to Anyx Trine, preferring to spend his time with the dragons - the better to perhaps find his own footing in the new unstable ground the nation tread upon.

Eventually, the mage would re-approach the Scions and Warriors of Light and ask, if they would permit it, something of a second try... He... had not exactly been warm with them before then, but... they had helped, when it wasn’t their fight, really... And Ysayle had believed in them. Trusted them. And this was all real... it was really happening... And he couldn’t stay.

He needed a new purpose, a new direction. One he could, perhaps, call more of his own. He would join them in their battles and adventures, if they would be amicable to it... For those they had lost. For those they could yet save.

[lettersnorth]

Prompt #4: Baleful

It was a well known fact that flowers had a language all their own. Therefore, one must take care when selecting flora or risk courting social disaster. The wrong specimen, a poor choice in color could result in a statement that diverged so far from intentions that the only outcome is unseemly embarrassment for all involved. It should be of no surprise that entire books had been written to aid in the navigation of such a tremendous undertaking. Most widely regarded of all was ‘Lady Gower’s Floral Vocabulary’. 

A book which now sat open, perched in her lady’s maid’s hands as the Countess Vernier slowly strolled through the Beauchene Estate’s flower laden ballroom. From the tables currently lining the room with a myriad of displays in every color, size and shape reasonably imagined, it was entirely possible that every florist in Ishgard had been called up to present their reserves. 

“You could take more of an interest in our sister’s season.” the Countess mused as she strolled among the tulips.

Remoneaux Beauchene, Head of House Beauchene, a man with no small manner of duties to entertain had nevertheless found himself drawn into his sister’s banal exercise without quite knowing how she had managed the feat. 

“On the contrary, I believe I have taken a great deal of interest. Am I not standing here with you before this dizzying array? Surely, the House will fall to ruin if the exact shade of petunias are not present at this ball.” he noted and, to his credit, he did so with a marvelously straight face. 

The Countess sniffed. “The facetiousness does not escape me but there will be nary a petunia in sight.” 

Remoneaux cast a long-suffering look over the crowded room. “I will say, between us, I am sore glad this is the last of you. Once Emeline is well settled I shall be closeting myself away for the next ten Seasons.” 

“Oh, why stop there. Why not become the veritable hermit you have always longed to be, dear brother. Follow your passions.” 

“I have made the attempt on more than one occasion. Regrettably, I’ve a host of sisters that refuse to let me live in peace.” 

“The burdens that come with being the Head of a House.” 

“Heavy is the crown.” 

As fortune would have it, Remoneaux was momentarily spared from his tedious task as Lord Duchamp was shown into the room. 

“Excuse me one moment, Isabeau.”

The Countess momentarily turned her head to the interruption. With a brief glance between the two men, she surmised the whole of the situation at once. “Of course.” she intoned before returning to the flowers. She solicitously walked on and regarded the displays along another table. 

Duchamp brought with him the fresh smell of cold wind and snow into the overly perfumed room. A detail for which Remoneaux was only too glad. The man’s amber gaze took in the explosion of flora with an air of dry amusement. “I take it the planning continues apace.” 

“Gods, I do hope so.” Remoneaux tipped his cane towards his sister’s form as she flicked her way through the book her maid held at the ready. “The ever helpful and knowledgeable Countess assures me this will be accomplished within the bell.” he said, raising his voice for her benefit. 

“And so it shall.” she returned, a sing-song note to her voice. 

Remoneaux snorted with brotherly affection. “No matter. What news?” 

“By all accounts the lady is one and the same.” Duchamp confirmed, folding his hands behind his back as he studied the overwhelming amount of floral samples on display. “If she does intend on making her approach this event of yours will be the perfect time. The doors of Beauchene are to be thrown wide open, after all.” 

“Yes.” Remoneaux stated in such a way that made it clear he wished it were otherwise. 

The two men were silent as they watched the Countess meander among a table of roses of all manner of size and color. Together, they cut a striking picture. Duchamp, all sun and warmth in his gold coloring and gaze, Remoneaux a study in snow and ice. 

“Let her come.” Remoneaux said with a baleful glance in Duchamp’s direction. “That way this entire mess will be taken care of once and for all.” 

Duchamp merely nodded. “If you think that wise.” 

“We both know I left wisdom in Ul’dah where this all began.” Remoneaux ruefully replied. 

“See, there? It is finished.” The Countess Vernier smiled as she approached, skirts rustling against the polished floor. “Surely not as painful as you had imagined.” 

Remoneaux smiled for his sister. “You’ll forgive me if I wait for the invoices to agree with such a statement.” 

The Countess waved him off and sent the maid for her coat and hat. 

Remoneaux cast one last gaze over the garden that had sprung up in his ballroom. “Do you know what shouldn’t go amiss? Nymeia lilies.” he said. 

Both Duchamp and Isabeau took a moment to stare at him in surprise. Both for entirely different reasons. 

“Remoneaux. Funereal flowers? Do be serious.” The Countess chastised. 

“A harsh assessment. I believe remembrance lilies is the more accepted term. Recall that this is also the season of the Rising. We should be mindful of that and place two large sprays just at the entrance.” he glanced at his companion. “What say you, Duchamp?”

“An elegant way to acknowledge the occasion.” 

The Countess bounced her gaze between the two of them, sensing there was something they weren’t saying but she couldn’t be certain of that fact. “As it is your House I shall acquiesce to your contribution.” she nodded. “Now, I must be off. Tell Emeline I shall be by tomorrow for the fitting.” 

[xivbumblingseabiscuits]

Thank You! ––– –  🌸

Our fifth annual  Little Ladies’ Day Charity Ball & Banquet was an phenomenal success! Thank you everyone  who attended! We estimated that the event had over 100 guests throughout the evening! Thank you, Crystal, thank you so very much.

I would also like to take the time to thank our vendors & booths this year:

Azim’s Rest

Nymeia’s Garden

@tea-ffxiv :: Shroudrose Teahouse

@maelstrom-command :: Maelstrom, 1st Squadron, 9th Levy

@bornfromblood-xiv :: Born From Blood, Ala Mhigan Collective

@themyriadmen :: Basima Jinkjahl & The Moonlight Reverie

@blue-berry-lizard :: Cotota Monsaran & The Midnight Pearl

@mrfavonius :: Ringo Shiro & The Midnight Pearl

@verkoh :: Rhysa Verkoh & The Midnight Pearl

Together you really brought the Ball & Banquet to life and I greatly appreciate all your hard work. I would also like to thank our performers:

Vylette — @vylette-elakha.

Maha — @starforger

Ugin

Lithen

You were all breathtaking and your performances were absolutely out of this world. Thank you for bringing your unique styles to the Ball & Banquet.

Thank you to those who partook in our dessert auction: Rinalys ( @dawning-star ), Sunsgerel ( @monkhsuns ), Simi ( @of-broken-grace​ ), Kaito ( @fogcaller​ ), Ringo ( @mrfavonius​ ), and Rhysa ( @verkoh​ ).

Congratulations to those who won our raffle: Sio'ahn Mali, Nomolun Dotharl, Zovson Malqir, & Liana Iscantel.

Screenshots! ––– –  🌸

Screenshots this evening were taken by @verkoh. You can check them out on the website or watch this tumblr photo spam. Make sure to tag yourself and your friends!

Congratulations! ––– –  🌸

Once more I would like to thank everyone who made this event so enjoyable. Together we raised 6,000,000 gil for the orphanage! We are forever grateful to this community, thank you so incredibly much. I look forward to seeing everyone next year!

I am sorry if I didn’t tag everyone! I sadly do not have everyone’s tumblrs.

[shamans-of-reeds]

Auraugust - Day 13: Friendship

The door home opens, We need not apologize, This is who we are.

(( feat. Nymeia’s Garden! ))

(( @vaelir-alatori @the-firetouched ))

[ofdragonsdeep]

FFXIVWRITE Prompt #1: Foster

A visit to an old friend, with an unusual gift.

(Spoilers for HW story, CN for discussion of death)

The walk from Camp Dragonhead up to Providence Point was always the hardest one. His teleport in had been met with initial alarm from the guards at the aetheryte, though their concern had abated to simple confusion once they had recognised his face, the shield at his back with the symbol of House Fortemps plain to see. For people still used to dravanians filled with wrath, and heretics bearing more of the same, it made sense, he supposed. Like many things linked to the war, he tried not to dwell on it.

In the hands of a more violent man, the tiny shard of pure fiery energy he held could have been a weapon. Ba Go of the kobolds used them to help fuel his voidsent Bombs, and the more volatile, corrupted form of the aether was always keen to release the heat that danced within. But Ar’telan had picked this crystal out with a careful eye. He had taken an empty crystal, at first, down into the heart of the volcano that fuelled Sohm Al, but his attempts to trap the energy had borne no fruit. So instead, he had taken the pickaxe from his pack, snaking around the angry lizards that stalked the caves, following the directions of an egg-bound dragon in the roosts near where Vidofnir laired. He had found the rocks, crackling with the promise of energy, and prised a crystal from their face. Refined it, careful always not to rupture the shell that kept the fire inside instead of out. And now he carried it, tiny but radiating a fierce warmth, up through the snow that melted around him as he walked.

The sign of Oschon at the Peak’s head, rubbed smooth by the hands of many seeking the guidance of the Fourteen before they were to be wed, marked the path beyond. Here the snow had been cleared by hand, a few transplanted trees sheltering dejected plants beneath them. Beyond the drop, framed by branches, Ishgard rose through the snow, her lights shining bright enough to illuminate even the strongest blizzard. Before that, a simple stone grave, and a charred shield.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, the bouquet of Nymeia Lilies in front of the grave indicating that he had managed, as he often did, to miss Francel’s own visit. Still, better a job well-finished than a rush, and the world’s many crises would wait for him, just this once.

He knelt behind the grave, finding the raised stone he had already placed behind it, many moons past now, before he had begun his search for the crystal. Gently, careful not to let it burn his skin, he released the crystal from his grip and let it settle in the dip at the top of the rock. He waited, almost not daring to breathe, until the aether within it settled and it raised from the surface to hover just above.

It would take time, he knew, to melt the snow, to stabilise the temperature. Coerthas was aspected to the cold now, possibly forever, and this little crystal would do little more than bring a tiny patch of warmth back to the space around itself. But, harsh though it seemed to phrase it so, Ar’telan was not trying to warm Coerthas. Only here.

“I brought you some gifts. I’ll have to leave them with Francel, until the warmth settles in,” he said, his breath misting a little still in the sharp air. His fingers protested the lack of immediate warmth as he moved them around the words, and he sighed softly at the feeling. It was a beginning - one of many. From the first tree he and Francel had struggled up the slope with, to an idea nervously signed at the young lord, to the enthusiastic approval. He took the pouch from his belt and turned it over in his hands, feeling the seeds within rustle between layers of leather. Unlike Francel, whose duties kept him in the Skyfire Locks, Ar’telan was pulled from place to place, from horror to horror, from emergency to uncertainty. When he had still lived, Haurchefant had extolled the virtues of travel with his usual enthusiasm, opined his inability to join him. He had spoken, wistfully, of the maybes held by the end of the war - journeys far from Ishgard, to new and unfamiliar places. The dream rested in place, and this was all that Ar’telan had to see it grow. To bring those lands, so distant and full of promise, home to Ishgard.

So the crystal was a beginning. He would leave the seeds with Francel, who would plant them with the aid of his House’s botanists, when the ground had warmed enough for them to take. And Ar’telan would bring back more, carefully gathered when he was not busy fighting for his life. Grow him a garden. His mind had drifted to the water crystals in the Sea of Clouds, so pure they were called “Spring Crystals”, but he had chastised himself to one step at a time. Now he had set the precedent, he only needed to make sure that it flourished.

He got to his feet, brushing the muddy slurry of earth and melted snow from his knees as he did so. It did not feel good, the way that nothing which reminded him of the loss felt good, but it felt like something. And in the empty space, the wounds the war had torn open, maybe something was all they could hope for.

Maybe one day, something would be enough.

[the-wardens-torch]

@febhyurary - Day 3 - Flower

((Decided to write this one since my screenshots game is a bit weak and I haven’t written much since FFXIVwrite2020.))

((EDIT: HI WOW I’m STUPID - THIS STORY FEATURES REONORA AESTETHE WHO BELONGS TO MY BEST FRIEND @adeat!!))

“Oooh, what lovely rose bushes!” Reonora exclaimed, clapping her hands together with joy.

Falerin turned in his friend’s direction, his gaze immediately alighting on a constellation of bright flowers strewn across a tableau of deep green foliage.

The person selling them - a rather bored-looking Seeker - sat inattentively on a chair in a wooden stall, her eyes fixed on the latest issue of The Mythril Eye. She seemed not to notice her potential new customers.

While Reo busied herself looking at a few lavender and white specimens, Falerin’s eye was immediately caught by a single red-orange blossom.

“The Warden’s Torch.” he mumbled to himself.

The seller’s ears perked up immediately.

“I am surprised to see someone recognize one… and call it by its sacred name, no less!”  she said, springing up from her chair with a speed most ninjas would have envied.

She leaned over the edge of the stall towards Fal.

“That means you have to leave with one.” she said, mischievously flicking her ears.

Falerin smiled politely at her and waved his hand.

“Nah, I‘m not a gardener… I just came to look. Reo is the one is the one you should be talking to...”

The seller continued to look at him, though she hadn’t met his gaze. He recognized this look. He’d seen it on the faces of his mother’s tribe when she had attempted to introduce him to them.

“But you’re a Hyur! How does a Hyur come to know something like that?” she asked, a note of genuine bewilderment in her voice.

“It’s a long story.  But anyway, she’s the real gardener here.” Fal gestured politely to Reonora. “Her Nymeia lilies are stunning… Even nicer than the ones they grow at the temples.”

“Come to think of it, Fal, you've mentioned these flowers, haven't you? And Azeyma is your patron goddess, is she not?” Reo said, studying the plant. Clearly neither she nor the shopkeeper had fallen for his diversionary change of subject.  

He sighed, glancing away from the Seeker and back down at the single flame-orange blossom. The longer he looked at it, the more memories it seemed to ignite.  Memories of being awakened at dawn by his mother, memories of singing the sun into the sky.

“Yes… N tribe legends say that Azeyma made them so that Her children can always look upon Her face without burning their eyes.”  he said, his voice a diffident monotone much unlike the way he usually spoke.

“Well that settles it! You’re taking this one even if I have to give it to you for free.” the shopkeeper scooped up the pot and thrust it just a few ilms in front of Falerin’s nose.  She was beaming with delight.

Reonora smiled sagely and folded her hands at her waist.

“Considering that you have your own house now, you have access to your very own garden. A lot of love and care will go a long way in taking care of them.” The pale silver, leonine tuft at the end of Reo’s tail twitched happily, seeming to echo the shopkeeper‘s agreement.

Joyously defeated, Falerin held out his hands, accepting the plant as gently as if he were taking a sacred treasure. Perhaps he actually was.

((Three hours of staring at the screen, 500ish words.  Yep.  Sounds like my MO.))