#Regarding

[hylfystt]

wolbert week 2023 - day 4: we fight as one

"If you need a push, I'll be right there behind you."

[astrology-bf]

May DWC Day 1: Appearance

@daily-writing-challenge

Ardbert Hylfyst wasn't a man to take things on faith.

Perhaps he'd been so, once. Before the Flood. Back when he still had the luxury of indulging in the naivete of a fresh adventurer.

But he'd learned wisdom since then: nothing could be trusted, least of all the words of the Ascians. So while he'd listened to the man in white as he told them of the Source, the Scions, and the Warrior of Light, Ardbert took all of it in with a grain of salt. Especially when it came to the last thing.

"Ifan Kaleid", the Warrior of Light. Hydaelyn's chief instrument on the Source.

It wasn't that Ardbert didn't believe Elidibus' recounting. What piqued his curiosity was the fact that one mere man could be viewed as such an obstacle to the Ascians, even with the Mothercrystal's blessing. What about this person in particular made them so dangerous? He wouldn't get an answer from the Ascians, that was for sure. Even if any among them knew exactly what made this “Ifan” such a threat, they wouldn’t communicate their weakness to a mere tool - which Ardbert knew he and his friends most definitely were.

So he’d resolved to simply go and see the Warrior of Light for himself. 

It hadn’t taken Ardbert any difficulty to track him down, as Ifan’s residence in Ishgard was common knowledge. Actually observing him without being suspicious was another matter, so Ardbert had to wait for an opportune moment before he could get a decent look. So here he was; leaning against a wall, gazing over at the white-clad hyur speaking to the levemetes in Foundation.

He didn’t seem special. Nothing about Ifan screamed “mighty hero”. He was a little on the short side, in fact, though Ardbert could hardly criticize from a mere five fulms and nine ilms himself. Handsome enough, he supposed, taking note of Ifan’s faintly roguish features. Ardbert blinked as Ifan gestured whilst in conversation, struck by how similarly his fingers moved to Lammit’s when she cast a spell - that same manual grace. Then Ifan let out a loud laugh, and Ardbert's ears tingled at the surprising edge of roughness on an otherwise fairly musical voice.

Ardbert didn’t realize he was staring at Ifan as the mage concluded his conversation, giving the levemete a smile and a gentle wave before turning to leave. As he did so, he happened to glance over in the warrior’s direction.

Their eyes met.

Shit.

Ardbert mentally smacked himself. He hurriedly averted his gaze in as casual a manner as he could, affecting a neutral expression. With any luck, Ifan would just find Ardbert a little strange, shrug, and walk awa–

“Need help, friend?”

Bugger. Shit.

“Uh… no. Just, uh….” Ardbert began as he turned his gaze towards the mage. Ifan had approached him and stood a few fulms away with a slightly airy smile on his face, regarding Ardbert with curiosity. The warrior was struck by the deep shade of Ifan's eyes. Like ocean water. It took him a moment to remember that Ifan had asked him a question.

The levemete counter. You’re waiting for the levemete counter.

“Just wanted to get a good look at the Warrior of Light, is all.”

Ardbert Hylfyst, you absolute fucking–

Ifan blinked in surprise. Then he chuckled. “Heh. Fan of me, are you? I can’t say the adventurers wanting to ‘get a good look at me’ are usually as experienced as you seem to be.” He said, gesturing again to indicate Ardbert’s bearing.

“A fan. Yeah, you could say that.” Ardbert replied with a nod, opting to take Ifan’s assumption in stride - not like he could think of a better excuse right now, anyway. “Sorry to be awkward about it, but you know how it is. Meeting your heroes and all that.” he added with an intentionally nervous laugh. “I’ve heard a lot of stories about you, Warrior.”

“You can just call me Ifan.” The mage extended his hand for Ardbert to shake, a smile on his lips. “What about you?” 

Again, the warrior was struck by the hue of Ifan’s eyes. There was a faint… sadness, there. And hardness. Ardbert continued to stare even as he reached out to grasp Ifan’s hand firmly and shook it before answering.

You practiced this. Arbert. Your name is Arbert.

“Ardbert.”

You’re an idiot.

“Ardbert. Nice to meet you." Ifan greeted, returning the handshake with equal vigor. "You're an adventurer, aye? Are you new in town?"

“Could say that. A few friends and I are doing a job here and there, stopped by the city. When I heard the Warrior of Light was here, well... You get the picture.” Ardbert replied as casually as he could manage, crossing his arms and leaning back against the stone.

“And?” Ifan asked, tilting his head and looking at Ardbert expectantly.

“And…?”

“Do I pass muster?” A note of teasing crept into Ifan’s tone. Ardbert felt his breath catch a little for some reason.

“...Hard to say.” Ardbert answered at length as he shifted his weight. “You can’t exactly get to know a man speaking to him in the street. Need at least three drinks at a good inn, in my experience.” he added as a joke.

“True enough.” Ifan laughed. Ardbert found himself smiling a little at the sound. “Well, I guess that settles it.”

Ardbert’s smile faded. “...Settles what?” he asked, suspicious.

Ifan gestured again towards the direction of the Brume. “Three drinks, right? A lot of people would question calling the Forgotten Knight ‘a good inn’, but I’m fond of it.”

“You’re… offering me a drink?” Ardbert repeated with obvious incredulity.

“You said you wanted to get to know me better, right? I’d planned on having a drink regardless, and you seem to be decent company.” Ifan answered with a grin. “Or am I too much of a myth in your mind to let me treat you to a round?”

He had come to satisfy his curiosity, that was true. But there was a difference between observing him and what Ifan was offering; a private conversation where Ardbert would likely be expected to offer details about himself. And the more he revealed, the more likely it was that he’d slip up and clue Ifan into who the warrior truly was.

It’s too dangerous. Too dangerous by half.

…But…

How long had it been since Ardbert had just… had a drink? In a tavern. A real tavern. It was less the alcohol and more what such an act meant to him; being able to pull up a chair with a friend and put life on hold for a little while. To folk with busy lives, as adventurers often had, it was more than a balm - it was necessary for your own sanity.

“...Fuck it. Why not?” Ardbert replied, hefting himself up off the wall and giving Ifan a grin in return. “Especially since you’re buying.”

“A better incentive I’ve yet to find.” Ifan said with a wink and a tap to the side of his nose. Then he paused. “...Normally I wouldn’t be so forward, mind. You just seem…” He glanced back at Ardbert. “Earnest.”

Ardbert’s eyebrows rose slightly. His cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink, and a nervous little laugh escaped his lips. “...You’re a lot stranger than the stories, I’ll say. But I won’t count my luck.” he said with a smirk. “Lead the way.

[fisherrprince]

for the ffxiv specbio stuff, do you headcanon the people on the First as having physically different traits from the people on the Source, or are they pretty one to one? and if so, were there any strange looks/social faux pas regarding the scions while on the First?

THIS IS REALLY INTERESTING ACTUALLY I think… that the species are all the same, mostly, but since they evolved/grew/colonized in/from different environments, there are definitely differences because of that. Like, say, dwarves not having any of the lalafells’ adaptations to sand, and instead having darkvision in their mining environments and more of a mole snout than a slit snout. Maybe being fuzzier overall. Or elves not having that split between duskwight (colorful, variant cave animal) and wildwood (forest animal). Heck there’s not a lot of elves at all, are there? Was their homeland just so concentrated that most of them were wiped? Another hard thing about this is the complete lack of knowledge we have of the regions before the Flood outside of Norvrandt! Or maybe just knowledge I have. Lol. I don’t have encyclopedia eorzea 2 or 3 just the first one… if anyone can hook me up with a First Lore Historian. I’d love to learn. Or with 50 bucks so I can grab the encyclopedia

And then, even, after the Flood, a lot of culture broke down in favor of communication and survival, so people just souped together. In short… ok. I think the First had a very fairytale vibe, so their designs should reflect that. I know drahn and galdjent have like a kingdom thing going on. There’s probably WAY less sea imagery and ocean features on roe in the first. More puppies than sea puppies, vaguely. More mountainy? Drahn I think are much more draconic than most Auri people, think fairytale dragon guys. They have the kind of customs that fairytale dragons and fae have, too, so it’s historically easy to say something odd to them and vice versa. Giants and dragons! I haven’t met a single elf except Ardbert’s friend. That’s an exaggeration but like no important npcs were elves. They seem very isolationist to me, very used to solo travel. Humes seem to have been mostly in kingdoms as well, like Ishgard, but less Catholic. They’re probably the most same. Garleans as a race of people do not exist on the First which is interesting. Ronso seem much more family-oriented, work-oriented, still cowboys, but very similar. I think the coeurl type hrothgar would be replaced with something else. Viis we know a lot about! They seem to be very similar as well, though I think just for fun for me, they’re Bigger. Like, taller, they’re isolated in a warm forest with plenty of prey and big magic energy. Viis big. Mystel I don’t know about, but they don’t SEEM to be desert cats, so I actually think. They don’t have undereye markings. Some of them have fold ears or domestic triangle cat ears rather than wild cat features. Familiar-like, not a lion pride — so they don’t have the same family structure miqote do either, it’s more like wolves where location and family are top tier. And Dwarves for sure have more mole than mouse features - thick claws on their toes and fingers, a little snoot, and very reflective eyes that are a bit sensitive to light. 

As for social faux pas… I think that Miqote, to show they’re unserious or apologetic, bunt or touch the other cat, lay down or sit next to them, put their tail on the other’s tail, something physical — and Mystel will lick their lips and look away and NOT touch, because further touching is To Fight. Ari FOR SURE tried to lean on and got smacked by Kai-Shirr and then smacked him back in betrayal. It took Alphy intervention to fix that. It is also way more common for humes to grumble and growl than it is for hyur (that’s bad manners. Imagine you bumped into someone at the store and they growled at you), so there was one point where Ryne actually (quietly like a kid swearing for the first time) grrrd at a monster and thancred had a whole 20 minutes of thinking to himself wether or not this was OK feral child behavior to let her keep doing or if he should tell her not to or. Or what. What do here. Is this OK. And lastly..,,, lalafellin alcohol is pretty strong, but their beer and mead taste great so it’s a popular party drink. dwarven alcohol is INCREDIBLY strong, it contains an ingredient mildly toxic to every other race except mord. You are SUPPOSED to, however you decide to do it, last a number of mugs (if you’re a bigger race, dilute the thing with soda or juice, you might get teased but it’s what you do). Some people were not aware of this and passed out after one mug, and got pitiful beards drawn on them (Urianger’s wispy stubble was quite silly to the rest of the party)

I’d love to compile more abt the First just in general. maybe my ideas would change with more info … anyways! Thank u for letting me drop a very large text bubble :]

[starshucker]

i scribbled all over mr exarch's slideshow for reference regarding which shards are still out there! the order of calamities is the 13th's flood of darkness (failed rejoining) -> 5th's flood of wind -> 12th's flood of lightning -> 2nd's flood of fire -> 3rd's flood of earth -> 6th's flood of ice -> 10th's flood of water -> 7th's astral flood (also a flood of darkness?) -> 1st's flood of light (averted rejoining thanks to you in shadowbringers)

this means, aside from the warrior of light, there are potentially 5 living shards of azem still out there (from the 4th/8th/9th/11th/13th), and the warrior of light has 9/14 parts of azem's soul (their own, ardbert's, and those from the seven successful rejoinings)

[owlespresso]

pollen, chapter 5

tags: fem!reader, healer!reader, reader has a personality

a/n: thank you for your patience.

Read 1-4 HERE.

“You think she ever gets bored in there?” Ardbert asks, motioning to the Solar’s towering double doors. 

“No idea,” you say, returning your attention to the texts laid across the timber table. Dusty tomes in tongues of lands far away have been hastily translated by Sharlayan’s most driven scholars. The good men and women of Saint Coinach’s Find hadn’t spared you a second glance when you slipped inside of G’raha Tia’s abandoned room. It had been just as he left it, hardly packed. Standing there, in the midst of all his belongings—you aren’t proud of how it winded you. How much of a hold a man you’d known for mere weeks had over your emotions.

It would have been a most audacious waste to leave his things to draw dust, given the doubtless countless hours he spent gathering such a sumptuous sum of information. At least a single piece of his collection accompanies you wherever you go, slid into your pockets, in between the folds of your robes, reading material for free moments between missions, opportunities to learn about Allag and the worrisome wonders it so carelessly created.

It’s irritating to know that some of history’s most malevolent empires are also its most successful, but you could co-opt what you gleaned for your own valiant purposes.

“Reading all that, again?” Ardbert regards the streaked ink and crowded margins of your parchment with a raised brow. Weeks ago, you would have mistaken his question for poorly masked derision. Now, it is painfully clear that he questions you out of clear concern, making it markedly difficult to dismiss his query as the petulant pryings of a man who could not see the value of your intellectual pursuits. 

“You should give it a rest—I mean, far be it from me to tell you what to do…” He breaks into a stumbling series of desperate clarifications, cheeks flushing pale florid. 

“I know,” you reply, giving him a gentle, reassuring grin. “But I’m fine. Really. I know where my own limits lie.”

In the wake of Meteor’s sudden distance, Ardbert seems to have taken it upon himself to take up twice your attention. He intercepts you in the halls with offers to carry your belongings, joins you for meals, and tags along on trips to Mor Dhona’s markets. It’s all well and good, better than the strained relationship you’ve had thus far, but that doesn’t stop the change from feeling awkward. Even he does not seem entirely confident when he asks to accompany you. What exactly does he want? Is he sticking so close out of some sense of gentlemanly obligation? Or is Meteor avoiding him as well, rendering him just as lonely as you?

“Do you?” Ardbert asks, and all of the good will you’ve been willing to extend crumples. “You’ve been working yourself to pieces—pulling all nighters ‘till you can hardly keep your eyes open! You nearly fell into your pudding yesterday.” His hand hovers over the ink-stained pages. Irritation strikes you like a fresh burn, like you’ve touched the still hot stovetop. Your wrists throb, hands curling into fists.

“That’s not true.” you grouse. “Pudding incident aside.”

A moment of silence settles between you. His strong, weathered hands grasp one of yours, thumbs pressing against the sore stretch of your wrist. The sudden sensation sends a shock up your spine and makes your breath hitch, cheeks growing warm. The feeling is shockingly familiar to you now, his touch running up to your palms and back down again. You can’t even bear to look at him, fingers twitching as he presses against your palm.

“I know we don’t much get along. On a good day, but trust me on this.” he murmurs. His brown eyes shine rich amber under the candlelight. The space between his brows wrinkles in concentration.

“You called me a ‘nag’ for telling you to get some rest.” you pointedly remind him. 

“That was only once!” he insists. “And I have since learned the error of my ways, thank you.” “You can call me whatever you’d like, but we both know I’m right,” he insists. “I’m not asking you to stop. I’m asking you to rest.”

“Your concern touches me, really… but I cannot stand an idle mind.” You pull away, met by only a meager resistance. You try not to think about the gentle pull of Ardbert’s fingers as you slide your hand free, calluses drifting over your palm and fingers. Ardbert’s already fretful frown furrows further, and you awkwardly ignore his cross expression in favor of study. The chapter detailing the creation of Baphomet is next—and you’re sure that your unique comprehension and experience with other primals could help you unearth something new. Even the most studied of scholars do not have the unique comprehension you possess, a skillset which lends itself to revolutionary breakthroughs which surely supersedes your mortal need for rest and other petty distractions.

“...Do you want to talk about it?”

“Ardbert, I’m not sure if my research would be of much interest—”

“I’m not talking about your research,” Ardbert says. “It’s still troubling you—the Tower, and what happened with G’raha. And that’s alright! We all grieve. That’s just a part—”

“I’m not grieving,” you inform him in a monotone drone, ignoring the sudden tightness of your chest. You’re well-accustomed to losing things—and people. It’s a part of being an adventurer. A part of being a Scion. But it’s only just that—a part, and you cannot let it rule you, lest it rend you to pieces.

It’s become clear that he intends to obstruct your study until he’s been appeased, so you cross your arms and lean back in your seat, the fine upholstery cradling the back of your neck, your aching back. Your rest your head backwards, weary eyes drawing shut as you submit yourself to his lecture. 

“The material I’m reviewing could hold vital information that only someone with my experience can understand, That’s why I took it with me.”

“And it just so happened to be in G’raha Tia’s quarters. Right after we were told the rest of the research team would be clearing it out. After you spent a whole bell blubbering about the lad.”

“I was not ‘blubbering’,” you shoot up from your seat, palms slamming onto the table. The teacups clattered noisily against their porcelain dishes, silverware similarly jostled. Any mote of goodwill you have afforded him during this conversation dries up near instantly. You could feel the startled stares of your nearby fellows, unwanted attention making your face hot. The deathly feeling of embarrassment only adds to the agitation which now simmers beneath your skin, the skin you had always believed quite thick. Wordlessly, you began to gather your materials, shuffling files and folders into haphazard stacks—just tidy enough to keep together, cradled to your chest like a barrier.

“Wait,” Ardbert beseeches with a newfound desperation. His lips press into a thin, flat line, expression immediately beset with immense regret. “Wait—I didn’t mean—wait just a moment—!” he stood, hand awkwardly hovering as if to reach for you or your papers. Wisely, he refrains from taking such reckless action. 

“I’ve heard enough.” Hopefully, the venom in your voice will be enough to keep him at bay. He’s already testing your insomnia-worn patience, composure slipped between your fingers like salt silted by waves. It hadn’t been his intent to upset you so, but wars and negotiations resolve based on intent and action alone. A single verbal blunder can spell disaster for entire kingdoms and continents. Fortunately, Ardbert’s lone crime is offending you. And the worst he would receive is a temporary reprieve from your presence, which is perhaps more of a boon than anything. “I’ll be in my chambers should you need me.” You push your chair back into the table with your hip. jaw clenching as the legs creak noisily against the tile. A step, then another, before you spare him a last look over your shoulder. “Please, try not to need me.”

---

Mor Dhona has been overtaken by grey, a canopy of clouds shedding water onto the cobblestone streets. Meteor bears the weather with no more than a grimace, paltry pattering of raindrops paling in comparison to the powers of primals and the pain they’ve inflicted. A scar on his left flank, courtesy of Ifrit, aches whenever the weather grows this gloomy. He pays it no heed, head low under the black tilt of his umbrella. The fingers of his other hand drum across his belt as he pursues the market stalls. 

The sudden turn in weather has frightened a wide portion of patrons indoors, leaving him blessedly alone in an uncharacteristically quiet market. Not a single shelf is spared his discerning gaze as he searches for an apology gift of acceptable quality. He’s painfully aware of how confused and perturbed you were after his sudden exit and subsequent avoidance of your person. Everytim he dares recall the tower, he is appalled at how easily that ancient concoction seized his inhibitions, how horrendously high it stoked his passions. Had you been a touch more stubborn, insisted on prying answers out of him or worse, treating him, the shot strings holding his decorum in tact could have dissolved, putting you in great danger. 

Warrior of Light title notwithstanding, a soft bodied healer would prove little challenge to someone like himself, or Ardbert. At a distance, you could fend them off, but you had been close enough to grab, close enough to press the entirety of his body against you. It would have been child’s play to pin you to the wall, to edge one of his thighs between your legs to settle his hungry mouth into the crook of your neck.

A shout of his name from the opposite side of the market snaps him from that grim line of thought, warmth in his breast doused by a cold wave of something not entirely shameful. Something dark and unbidden had purred at the thought, and that very same presence laughs mockingly in his ears.

“How long are you going to wait?” it hisses. “How long will you deny us?”

And then Ardbert, looking soggy and cross, is standing a film before him, face wrenched into a sullen pout. Rain beats against his pauldrons, droplets rolling down the brown leather. His soaked bangs fall into his forehead. Several awkward moments of silence settle between them. Meteor spends every single one fending off his own dread.

“You’ve got some nerve, you know that!?” Ardbert says. Meteor’s face crumples into a sour scowl. In the wake of the Crystal Tower, you have been granted an extended respite. Meteor assumed you could not personally care less if he was present or not, you had grieving to do (despite your denial) and though he could not claim to know you well, he did know you hated for others to bear witness to your moments of weakness. A staunch perfectionist, unwilling to be seen at anything other than your best.

It’s clear his absence has jarred you, in some way, more than he anticipated. He can think of no other reason for Ardbert’s sullen, storm countenance.

“What’s happened?” he inquires, immediately and urgently. The taut line of Ardbert’s shoulders ease, his relief practically palpable as he elaborates.

“She’s been buried in her books for days now—well, I suppose I should be saying his books.”

“Whose?” Fierce alarm colors his voice, so suddenly it surprises him. 

“The Sharlayan lad who shut himself in the Tower. He left all his things behind. Ever since she brought ‘em back, she hasn’t slept a wink—I’m sure of it. Bags under her eyes deep as Syrcus.” Ardbert hurriedly informs him, impassioned testimony flooding out all at once.

“She’s still grieving him,” Meteor says, more a passive observation than an informative statement. You bury yourself in your work on the regular. He can only imagine what you look like now. His lips press into a grim frown. He is well-acquainted with the brutal ache of overwork and he knows it well, better than most, he would dare say. Intensive, impassioned labor was at first a means of survival, then a way to distract from whatever unholy thing has taken up residence inside of him. He cannot hear its incessant whispering if he is worn enough to sleep.

“Have you tried… talking to her?” he asks.

Aerdbert looks personally affronted. “Of course I have!” he insists ardently, voice rising above the sound of the tempestuous weather. The winds have begun to howl, a sudden verticality to the gales that brings the water dangerously close to their spot underneath the tarp. “And more than once! But you know she hates listening to anyone, much less me. She’s a healer, but she’s just as stubborn as you and I.”

Meteor blinks. Stubborn? He’s never known himself to be particularly stubborn. Dedicated, perhaps. Diligent, in both training and on the field. He has half a mind to remind Ardbert of any of the six occasions he can immediately recall in which his brother was the picture of stubborn (his insistence on exploring the Aurum Vale when you were absent on parley to Dragonhead), but he mercifully refrains, beating back the quarrelsome urge.

“Let’s face it,” Ardbert continues, equal parts exasperated and defeated. “She clearly has a favorite, and it sure as hell isn’t me.”

There’s nothing Meteor can truly say to that, because it is abundantly and painfully correct.

“Alright,” he relents, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Intervening in the business of others is quite literally in his job description, but he hesitates to meddle in interpersonal affairs. He much prefers the solemn quiet of his steel to the plex customs of the social order. The battlefield is less daunting than diplomatic affairs between different powers, where the smallest upset could spark political incident. Fortunately, a brief conversation with you does not bring with it a risk of war. Most likely.

---

Nighttime settles over Mor Dhona like a widow’s veil, stars blotted out by blackened clouds. Thunder sings low in the distance, Ramug’s song rumbling over rolling hills of stone and steep spires of crystal. You work deep into the night, candlelight slips through the narrow crack of the door, and touches the opposite wall. The rest of the Scions have squirreled away their respective chambers, leaving the Rising Stones settled silent and nearly empty. He spares the remaining night owls polite nods as he passes them in the hall.

He keeps his footsteps loud on purpose, alerting you to in lieu of the thick plate armor he’s abandoned in his room’s cramped closet. He’s come to you in a black button up and dark slacks, boots laced up to his knees. He feels ridiculously exposed without his armor, a rigorous discomfort which prowls his every step. Any shadow could be a knife through the ribs, a beast laying in wait, a Garlean assassin still sore from past defeat. And the shadows are not still. No, their edges writhe when he looks at them too long. His own paranoia stirs his senses to a heat-stroke simmer.

So he pays them no mind. They are tricks of the light, idle playings of an overactive mind. Perhaps its restlessness. Nearly a week has passed since he last drew steel, since he ventured beyond Mor Dhona. An expedition will do him good, he decides, gently nudging open your door.’

The mere sight of you fills him with an inexplicable amount of relief. You’re curled over your desk, but you budge when the hinges creak, eyes gleaming with a recognition that lets him know he is real. His pulse becomes quiet in his ears, the hasty thudding of his heart rendered mere background noise as you speak. 

“You’re up late.”

“I could say the same to you,” he says with a small, wry smile. “Can’t sleep?”

“You could say that,” you hum, regarding him with a discerning squint. “...You can come sit, if you want.”

This is his first time inside your private room, he realizes. Crossing the threshold feels like some sort of sacred act. Urging the door closed, even gently, feels like a sin. It’s a terribly cozy space. A bookshelf crammed full hugs the western wall, stacks of tomes left to overflow onto the floor and the coffee table and the dark wood nightstand. The bed looks even cozier. The unmade blankets are half slumped onto the round rug partially placed underneath the frame. Meteor resists the urge to pick it up and fold it. Instead he settles himself on the edge.

“So, what is it?” you turn in your chair, regarding him flatly. You’re dressed in a slip of a robe. The sheer fabric shifts to expose more of our thigh, squished against your crossed leg. The warm candlelight touches your bare skin with a tenderness. Meteor tears his eyes away.

“I… I’m sorry for not being present, and for any inconvenience I may have caused you.” Meteor says, meaning every word. No matter how you feel about him and Ardbert, the bond you share is vital to your success as a team. A sacred commitment forged under Hydaelyn’s all-knowing, all-loving gaze. Not being able to reach him must have made it impossible to decide where you would be going, precious time wasted.

“Inconveniences?” you say with an incredulous scoff. “I suppose we’re behind on planning, but I can handle most of it within the day. If I were to be upset—which I am not—it would be because… I happened to miss your company.” You bite out the words like sour apple seeds, space between your brows wrinkling.

“But you would have.” Meteor prods, unable to stop himself.

“But I didn’t,” you corrected him, stern as can be. “Honestly, I've been too busy with research to really notice who comes and goes.” you inform him with a reluctant mote of sheepishness, clearly disconcerted at admitting your distraction. “But I swear that what I learn from this will aid us all in the future.”

Meteor blinks as you launch into a small lecture. The sluggishness which weighs you like a worrisome spirit lifts as you delve into the unique Allagan perspectives on the primal problem, mentioning methods of containment long forgotten alongside the rest of the empire and its accursed, abominable creations. Never before has he witnessed such passion swell within you, such ardor. There’s a glimmer in your eyes, a glow about you. At that moment. he decides that passion suits you. Even if he will have to ask you to repeat your exposition and explain in further detail numerous times. Preferably at a slower, more comprehensible pace,

“I believe you,” he says, standing to cross the distance between you. Up close, he can see the bags under your eyes, luggage you’ve been saddled with the moment G’raha Tia sealed himself away. He cannot help the bitter pang of resentment which stirs within his breast at the man who so carelessly drove you to this state, sending your brain awry with grief and guilt.

Something deeper, something more shameful hisses in envy, in disbelief that another man has so easily wrested such fervent emotion from you. And in such a short amount of time.

His hand, weighted this time not by glove or gauntlet, lands on your shoulder. Two of his fingers span beyond the neckline of your robe, touching your bare nape. There is a magnetism that comes with touching you. The Echo pulses and resonates, aether reaching out and rushing warm beneath his skin. It’s an outpouring of energy that brings with it a bevy of unusual, varying side effects. For that reason, he and Ardbert have mutually agreed to touch you only when necessary.

Meteor has wandered in the past if it affects you as much as it does them. A shiver pulls down your spine, betraying your otherwise cool countenance. It's absurd, how such little contact can evoke so much, but it is relieving to know he is not alone. His thumb twitches, before he rolls soothing circles over that patch of bare skin, attempting to settle some of the tension which pulls your shoulders taut.

“You should get some rest,” he urges quietly, voice low, eyelids dipping as he nudges against the ambient pulse of your aether.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” you mutter, and for the first time, before he can help himself, Meteor scoffs at you. It’s a haughty, amused little sound that has you whirling to face him with hackles raised. The satisfaction he sows from your reaction is obscenely childish, but he quickly smothers the worst of himself, straightening his lips and schooling his expression into one of stern concern.

“Trying to make sure you’re prepared for what tomorrow brings,” Meteor supplies. “Our next mission is in Gridania. The moogles of the Shroud have summoned a primal.”

“I don’t recall them worshiping any gods.” Even when exhausted, you remain quick on the uptake.

“Exactly,” he replies, providing no further context. The details will wait until the morrow. You don’t need anymore information knocking around inside your head while you try to sleep. He swallows, wishing for a reply, a retort, but you are hesitant. And the silence that settles seeds the ground for the insidious voice to sow.

How simple it would be to lift you by the nape, to manhandle you onto the mattress, to press upon you all that you have made him feel. It’s repulsive, it's disgusting—the very concept of so violently breaking your trust makes his guts churn, makes his cock hard as stone. He feels frigid at his edges, a bitter cold wreathing around his outermost extremities as something tries to claw to the surface. He shuts his eyes tight and breathes evenly, wills down the wolf even as his head splits.

The legs of your chair squeal as you push out from your desk, sending him scampering back to avoid a stubbed toe. The contact is broken. His fingers twitch and his palms prickle, an aching chasm opening within his chest. A sense of emptiness lingers in your wake.

And you’re wearing a strange face as you regard him. Not fraught with fear, but with suspicion. He has somehow made you curious, which is perhaps the most frightening outcome of all. He is no G’raha Tia. He cannot spar with you intellectually, and he cannot bear to be the next fervent focus you dedicate yourself to. 

Rather than launching into a barrage of questions, you simply nod. He doesn’t know whether to be relieved or not.

“You win, I’ll get some rest. But I’ll have questions for you in the morning.” Meteor nods and gives you a gentle goodnight, hastily hastening from your quarters with the poorly disguised dread of a man rusting to the restroom before he sicks all over the rug.

He leaves for Gridania early the next morning, while you are still in bed and Ardbert is struggling to get out of his.

[brineffxiv]

Uh oh. What happened while we were gone?

Everyone wants to resign at once to go become adventurers? Sorry, "heroes"?

What am I to say to this? They want to help people. To do what I did. How can I we say no when they have only the best of intentions, and what they do will be for good?

Oh no. What's happening now?

Uhhh... Wasn't Y'shtola just talking to me about the connection between seeing a meteor shower and the Echo awakening? A memory of the Final Days?

Oh shit oh shit! They can hear Hydaelyn now?! Their Echo awakened!

You.

You did this somehow. What are you planning!?

...it just stopped. Was it even real!? How did you make them hear Hydaelyn? Also, like, how dare you just tell all these people they're Warriors of Light now?! You're going to get them killed! I have a dangerous life! Not that you care about any of that...

Good questions Alphinaud, but Elidibus is not Emet; he's not just going to tell us what he's up to.

HAH!

You bastard. Stop making me laugh.

So you confirm it's true? The Echo was a power of the ancients and triggering the memory of the Final Days in our souls will awaken it in those susceptible?

...yeah, the more I learn about Hydaelyn the less charitably I see Her. Two sides of the same coin, each inclined to use the people bound to them for Their own purposes with little regard to those peoples' well being.

It's sure seeming that way, isn't it?

Damn, so She doesn't even personally choose Her champions?

Excellent question!

...

I've got a baaaad feeling about this.

.

.

.

I get to pick who came to visit me?!

Cyella. It's totally Cyella. I want to know what she thinks of all this.

You're not going to like what I'm about to tell you, but you should know the truth...

Yeah, Elidibus might not have known it, but by taking Ardbert's body he has made this personal.

I will. I promise you that I will. Elidibus will die by my hand and Ardbert will have his rest.

They're still hard at work.

That's his blue arm, is there something wrong with it.

No you absolutely aren't. I know how this goes. Something bad is happening and you're going to pretend it's not until it gets too bad to ignore. Don't be so stubborn!

What the fuck. How is Zenos in Amaurot?? Ooo new outfit. Nice.

Oh. He was sleeping.

...Asahi? But you're dea-

Ascian.

But if two of the big three are dead and Elidibus is currently walking around in Ardbert's body, then who are you, pray tell? One of the sundered for certain... I wonder how many Ascians are left?

Huh. Zenos has recurring dreams of the Final Days. That can't have helped with his ...everything he's got going on.

Found a way to what?

You are... entirely too happy talking about the Final Days. It's the great tragedy of your people, and yet you smile like a madman when speaking of it.

[eemamminy-art]

wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What's the worst wound your OC has ever experienced? - Leigh!

He is very much the type to push through anything and make things worse. I think as the person he is now, Leigh has mostly experienced emotional wounds. He was separated from his parents at an early age and wound up "working" for Mumuepo in the thaumaturge guild in exchange for a bed and daily meals, and was largely kept away from others for many lonely years. He did grow close to Minfilia and later Thancred once the three of them met, which meant all that happened to Minfilia cut him deeply. Likewise, he idolized Raubahn as a hero and loved Nanamo as a leader so everything in "The Parting Glass" quest broke him on a fundamental level. Things were complicated with Haurchefant, and he still blames himself for what happened in the Vault. I don't think he ever would have quit the Scions if not for having the heart to heart with Ardbert in 3.4, I think if not for that he probably would have kept going and pushed himself until the end.

Which, he did, in an alternate timeline. In the Exarch's timeline, Leigh keeps going even beyond that point. He ends up so badly scarred there's hardly a place on his body untouched by combat-- particularly a huge scar across his chest following the assault on Rhalgr's Reach, and tons of little scars marring his face. He even loses his sight due to a spell casting going horribly wrong. In the end black rose takes him, but before then he suffers as much physical and emotional trauma as a man can really take.

My take on the shards and ultimately Endsinger as well is that there are these cyclical fates. Think of how Fandaniel always seeks the answers he sought in his past life, Azem always pushes himself to the last moment trying to right wrongs. Most of his shards have died tragically, Azem himself died very tragically, Leigh was fated to die tragically until he broke that chain.

This ask made for an interesting question to pose regarding Leigh, because he's a character who both has and hasn't endured tremendous pain all at once!

oc asks: not-so-nice edition

[snow-system-wol]

Finally, it's over.

S'ria insists on G'raha getting medical care after they leave Amaurot, even if he has to do it himself. (Lyna is very much in agreement.)

Ao3

S'ria's heart had been pounding since the moment the Exarch (G'raha? He could call him that now, if he wanted) had approached after the battle. Even as G'raha responded to his name with a bit of cathartic crying, S'ria wasn't really focusing as well as he'd like on the conversation. As glad as he was to simply see everyone had survived ... There was a lot else to be focusing on.

Firstly, the last echo of Ardbert's presence, proud and satisfied, before he was no longer a distinct person. Secondly, gods, everything hurt. Nearly turning into a lightwarden and still needing to fight afterwards will do that to a body. Thirdly – G'raha. What had happened there?

Though S'ria felt sympathy over Emet-Selch's last words, it had not yet slipped his mind that he was very capable of cruelty. While they all were quite low on energy, it was a relief to watch G'raha be healed enough that he would at least not drown in The Tempest. In all honesty, he was barely in the worst three for handling the swim, in the end.

He wanted to be angry, to verbally tear this man apart for trying to sacrifice himself for S'ria's sake (never again, not a second time) – but he couldn't. Not right now.

S'ria could not help but file away every visual bit of information in an involuntary log. The cuts and bruising on his face, the blood at the corner of his mouth, the heavily torn patches of fabric, the wheezy catch of air in his throat, the obvious way his legs were not really supporting his weight. It made him feel uncomfortable to dwell on, and yet, it was difficult not to.

It was a blessing, the slightly distant reverence that the people of the Crystarium still regarded their Exarch with. The swarming and bone-crushing hugs that they'd had to gently protest against with the people of Eulmore were not a problem here. The one exception was Lyna, pulling the Exarch into a hug once they were within the tower. It was not lost on S'ria or Lyna just how badly he froze in response, not quite stifling a pained hiss.

He categorically refused to be seen receiving medical treatment, despite complaints that surely he would not be judged. Lyna's jaw clenched. S'ria got the sense that if he was in any less wretched of a state, she'd probably start trying to lecture sense into him. It was very valid. Both of them were well in agreement over not wanting the Exarch to die out of stubbornness – though this seemed to not be so dire at least.

Instead, she left S'ria to accompany the Exarch the rest of the way to his private quarters, promising to meet them there with whatever curatives she could find. ("Yes, for the last time, I won't say they're for you.")

It was bizarre, for S'ria, to know how to do things that he simply did not know. At least he understood why now – but that didn't make it feel less strange to start faintly dulling G'raha's pain with a weakly channeled spell.

He didn't much like the way it made him feel dissociated, trying to directly share his body with Menphina and let her do her work, but it was worth it at times. (And got a little easier every time.) S'ria was not sure how their tenuous grasp of healing magic worked, he wasn't even sure if Menphina truly understood herself, but her assistance was appreciated.

It was probably barely helpful, just something to do while they waited for Lyna. Even still, it made G'raha look at him in awe. S'ria wanted to ask why, given that the Exarch had all but raised him from the dead in battle before and this was barely a parlour trick in comparison. He decided just to blame the reaction on adrenaline and pain delirium.

Among the medicines left with them, there were salves that would help with surface level injuries better than a consumable medication. S'ria (S'ria-Menphina? It was truly disorientingly unclear at this point, that was very helpful, wasn't it?) asked if he'd like assistance with any such wounds, should he be comfortable with it. G'raha tensed, shoulders coming up protectively, and S'ria's heart was once again pounding just as much as it'd been in the ruins of Amaurot.

S'ria had been worried that his odd metabolism with the tower would be a problem, but the potions Lyna brought back seemed to work wonders. What a relief. The tension left Lyna's shoulders as G'raha finally began to breathe like a man whose ribs were not possibly broken.

After a while, she very begrudgingly left to make sure all was well elsewhere – with strict instructions to come get her if anything happened. Given that the Exarch no longer looked as though he may keel over, S'ria hoped nothing would come of that.

Inexplicably, G'raha had still said yes. S'ria turned away to give him some privacy. When he was allowed to look again, G'raha had removed the robe itself, but re-tied the outer drapings loosely at his waist, remaining more-or-less still half clothed. He sat on the edge of his bed, back mostly turned to S'ria.

It wasn't terrible, but it also wasn't great. It was mostly just mottled patches of bruises and scrapes that were the problem, aside from the gunshot wound that did not seem healed all the way to the surface.

(Gods, S'ria hoped it had been a clean shot through, he certainly wasn't about to surgically remove a bullet. The point was to heal him, not to hurt him worse.)

G'raha was anything but relaxed, even as S'ria did his best to touch gently, but it seemed to be helping. The muscles in his back were no longer quite so locked in place with discomfort. Good. The Exarch may have thought he could simply stubbornly push through any pain, but these things tended to heal slower when you couldn't even untense. There was not so much to be done for what remained of the bullet wound, aside from hoping any pain was dulled.

S'ria sat back and asked, as nonchalantly as possible, whether there were any other injuries he may need care for. G'raha flinched at the question and S'ria put the salve down next to him before it could slip from suddenly numb fingers. The was a strange ringing in his ears, he felt nauseous, his tongue felt like lead – but he had to ask, didn't he? (He would prefer not to.) His words came out far rougher than he would've liked.

"He didn't. He–", S'ria swallowed, throat feeling very dry. "Please tell me he didn't."

S'ria could tell the exact moment G'raha understood the question, because he quickly turned around to face him.

"No, no, gods no. Nothing like that, I swear it." He looked horrified, as if the possibility had never occurred to him, and S'ria immediately regretted bringing it up. G'raha paused, looking more shy than fearful, now that S'ria paid closer attention. "I am just quite capable of treating any other scrapes myself, as opposed to removing more of my clothing, that was all."

S'ria wasn't sure whether he felt more embarrassed or more angry at himself. Of course G'raha merely didn't necessarily want to strip down and make things weird. Of course it hadn't been anything like that. The Ascian wouldn't have gone that far and normal people would not have even thought about that –

S'ria nearly jumped out of his skin when G'raha placed his hand over S'ria's clenched fist. S'ria felt self conscious about how obvious his thoughts may have just been.

Once they began to talk, to reminisce in earnest, it was difficult to stop. They ended up speaking late into the night, hopefully the first of many more nights that this Shard would see.

"While I am quite alright, I do appreciate the concern. You are welcome to keep me company a while longer, if you do not require rest yet yourself."

It was nice, to actually catch up. Even if S'ria had known his identity for a while now, it was a relief to finally openly talk to each other. S'ria had not yet forgotten the need to insist he never pull a stunt like this again, especially not for him, but that could continue to wait until a later date.

[aotopmha]

Made it up to the 5.3 trial in FF14, specifically the cutscenes that follow it, but stopped right after for now.

Spoilers!

I think a criticism I can levy at the patch content of FF14 is that it often feels like a retread of the ideas in the main expansion. And I think Elidibus is probably the strongest example up to this point in the story.

It is very much Emet-Selch, but done "again", however, in my eyes what makes it work is the emphasis on a different aspect of the Ascians' struggle: duty.

The pain of loss and loneliness is there for sure, and so is the exploitation of the good and bad in humanity and the idea of legacy and remembrence, even the single-mindedness itself is there in Emet, but the single strongest keyword for Elidibus is duty and his tunnel vision regarding his duty.

It's where the emphasis lies that actually makes them very different characters.

While Emet's singular, emphasised obsession is the return of his people no matter the cost, for Elidibus it is specifically his duty, perhaps his role as the heart of Zodiark, as someone who is a primal.

A mantra without any basis but the vague notion of a promise to someone.

I think the parallel I find the most interesting is the one the narrative draws with the Exarch.

Because he, too, functions based on a promise to someone, a singular, tunnel-visioned idea of saving you.

And the response he gives isn't one that villainises Elidibus, but rather gives context from his perspective. He chose his course because of his personal experiences and the course his life took, as did Elidibus.

They both do what they believe is right. I think Elidibus is probably one of the most straight-forward examples of a villain sharing the conviction with the heroes and believing they are in the right in this game.

The only difference truly is the path they've walked – more specifically their memories.

Elidibus is confused about what he believes in and what he fights for because his memory has faded, so he clings to his empty mantra without ever truly thinking about it.

As a consequence of this, unlike Emet, he is pretty uncompromising. We are the villain, he is the hero, no ands, ifs or buts.

Instead of trying to find common ground with you like Emet, he tells you how morally wrong you are for doing what you do, and how morally wrong everything you have done across your entire journey is because it involves violence.

You kill anything, without any thought, just as you are bid.

He is a Warrior of Light saving the world, just like Ardbert and I like how Ardbert periodically comes through from him, just how he acted a lot like Zenos when he was in his body.

His entire thing is conviction without substance.

And I like how Y'Shtola cuts right through it all and points out how the ancients aren't exactly flawless, either.

He tells you how the sundered forget, but he himself has done so, too.

I think it's really cool they managed to make him a full-fledged character that makes sense essentially in just 5.3.

The other big reveal is you being the Seat of Azem, which I love because they somehow managed to give you a position in the story you can choose the significance of; I think making just being an Adventurer/Person of the People a cool special position is really neat.

You can view yourself as the coolest and the strongest if you so wish, but you can also view yourself as a simple traveller and anything between these two aspects because you do your own thing.

Your significance as the Seat of Azem is about what you represent and that you matter, not actually about how special you are. The story kind of allows you to choose how special you actually are.

I have a lot of thoughts about the Seat of Azem, but to me the one that strikes me the most right now is the discourse around you being The Chosen One. Because I see so many people categorise the idea as such and I think the role of Azem doesn't necessarily make you The Chosen One trope.

Among other things, I for example really like the idea of a Big Good in the world. A character that is simply good with no ifs, ands or buts attached to it.

I think you can be any of that because of the vagueness of the role of Azem. It's fantastic food for RP.

Maybe your Azem is a chaotic trickster, maybe a prideful defector from the unflexible, close-minded Convocation.

Perhaps they are a champion of anti-conformism, an odd one out that cares about the people more than anyone on the Convocation as someone with perspective and empathy for common folk, a hero of the people.

Azem is so wonderful because of how mysterious and open-ended the role is and I hope this aspect of your character is one that won't be given a much more concrete picture, though I can think of a number of ways you can make a more concrete Azem work, I prefer the freedom of interpretation regarding the role.

So in light of that, I ask, what are y'all takes on Azem?

[pangolinheart]

What is the most difficult thing about your OC that others around them have to put up with? Are they remotely aware of this (alleged) fault? And do they have the slightest intention of addressing it?

Hmmmm good question! I think there are a lot of difficult things about Rhiki (which is probably why it's hard to imagine most of the Scions liking her) but they're mostly pretty small and petty. Rhiki is generally pretty conflict-averse in her personal life, so she would put a lot of effort into quashing most of her bad habits if they were causing a problem with her friends or companions.

I think the easiest one to pick out would be that she's super talkative (and also kind of loud.) She doesn't like silence, so she fills it with stream-of-consciousness rambling or just general chatter about... anything she can think of. Both Midgardsormr and Ardbert have been subjected to this tendency, which is a punishment neither probably deserved. But I'm sure there are times when it's annoying even to Rhiki's friends and acquaintances. She's smart enough, at least, to keep herself quiet during things like stealth missions, but she might not always be as mindful if, say, someone is trying to read, or concentrate, or if they're in a foul mood. She does know she has a tendency to ramble (and deep down she knows that some people find her a little annoying) and she tries to tamp down on it to be considerate of the people around her, but sometimes she can't help herself.

If someone asks her to please stop talking, her reaction depends on who's asking. If it's someone who she regards as generally abrassive and/or up-their-own-ass, she might disregard them (or keep talking just to annoy them...), but if it's someone she cares about, or someone who's not normally quick to snap at her, or if it's someone who she notices is feeling a little down, she'll do her best to be accommodating and sit quietly. (Though, if they snap at her it might hurt her feelings a little...)

Rhiki also likes to tease people (especially people who seem like they take themselves too seriously.) I can see this being a little awkward or embarrassing at times, but unlike talking too much it's very intentional so she's more sensitive to the situation. It's just part of the way she shows affection, so she doesn't legitimately want to hurt anyone's feelings. She doesn't like seeing people upset. So she's usually very careful to not cross the line into actually hurting someone. If she does, though, she'll immediately apologize and feel terrible. Still, for some of her more tightly-wound friends I imagine this could be an undesirable habit.

((Heraldic OC Asks by @mimble-sparklepudding))

[thefinalwitness]

ironically all four of of l'aiha's non-rdm styles were sort of magically embedded into her, but where both of the black aether ones were the result of her soul shards rejoining to her (ardbert & esmerales), the white aether ones were more of like... she came to Possess the ability to wield it, but the knowledge to do so is not naturally imparted to her the way ardbert's warrior-esque style and esmerales reaper-esque styles are.

like, because of the rejoined shards, l'aiha has these reservoirs of knowledge regarding the black aether jobs; she tunes into the shards of ardbert or esmerales and she can just know it. and they feel BETTER to her, physically and mentally, because her black aether isn't diseased. but the white aether jobs were only given to her as potential, and she has to intentionally practice and learn in order to wield them effectively. this, combined with her chronically imbalanced white aether, makes it difficult to use those styles; a combination of ignorance and caution.

anyway i like justifying other jobs by saying they're styles of red magic where she's learning how to utilize black or white magic more heavily. u can imagine it like her black aether-heavy jobs always have a red magic gauge more full of black magic than white, and vice versa. :3c

[shivasdarknight]

ask 2 of 3

12. How has their job affected whatever headcanon version is of the MSQ if any? 

{original question collection post - curious about anything else?}

Quite a lot, actually! Especially with regards to public image and how playing specific roles led to certain things happening.

For reference, here's what the four are classed as:

Surkukteni: LNC>DRG - ROG (ARR, only actual class as ROG isn't used seriously); DRG - RDM (post ARR); DRG - DRK/MCH/AST/RDM (HVW, DRG is still main class while the others are still being learned/use sparingly); DRG > DRK - MCH/RDM/DRG/AST (post HVW-SHB, DRK becomes main class); DRK - MCH/RDM/DRG/AST/WAR (post SHB, WAR is from Ardbert); DRK + RPR - MCH/RDM/DRG/AST/WAR/MNK (ENW, other things are mixed in); DRK+RPR+MNK+DRG - MCH/RDM/AST/WAR (post ENW)

Gwendoline: CNJ>WHM* - THM>BLM/ACN>SMN/SCH (ARR, only plays role of WHM and rest are...curiosities); WHM* - BLM/SMN/SCH (post ARR, other jobs see use but still WHM main); WHM*+MCH - BLM/SMN/SCH (HVW, basically just carries a gun on her now); WHM*+MCH+BLM+SMN - SCH (STB-post ENW, she's now figured out how to multi class and has become obnoxious about it)

*SHE'S A NECROMANCER.

Teodore: BLM - WHM/SCH/SMN/SGE (ARR-HVW, needs...a lot of explanation); BLM+SCH - SMN/SGE/WHM (post HVW-SHB); BLM+SCH+WHM - SMN/SGE (post SBH-post ENW)

Seraphin: GLD > PLD* (ARR, has been a GLD for a while); PLD* - RDM (post ARR, very serious about this); PLD* - RDM/MNK (HVW-post HVW, actively working on the latter); PLD*+RDM - MNK (STB-post ENW, MNK is more of an outlet than anything)

*He was not trained by the Sultansworn and is more of a rogue PLD, more below

The in depth stuff is below :3c

So each WoL has gone through ig a redefining of what each of their roles mean to them and the party, especially as they grow as adventurers and are confronted with things that don't particularly mesh with their preconceptions - with the exception of Teodore, but there's a reason there. Surkukteni sees the most change, Seraphin Teodore honestly sees the least out of them despite Seraphin only maining two classes - but Seraphin's two classes matter a Lot to him.

Let's start with Surkukteni.

The entire reason why she started with LNC was because it was what her captain Kitase was familiar with, and thus she was taught it. So she does not go to Ywain with no experience and instead comes in with naginata experience. Between her bullheadedness and leftover training from a former Doman soldier (plus her siding with Foulques), it makes early ARR!Surkie very prone to resisting teaching from Eorzeans. She picks up ROG more as a side gig than anything (which many of the skills from that will become useful), but her being an obnoxious 20something is what gets her thrown into Coerthas. Ywain sent two potential candidates to Alberic when the request was put through: Lillith (the genuine one, because he wasn't aware this was a way to shove accountability onto a foreigner) and Surkukteni (who he wanted to see broken by the much more rigid training structure of the Dragoons). This leads to confusion as to who the Eye picked between the two, but unfortunately for Ywain, the better candidate was Surkukteni - entirely because. I mean she's fucking based on Vergil Sparda while Lillith is a goody-two-shoes butch who just wants to find his dad (because ofc he does, he was a Lone Wanderer with the highest possible good karma originally); of course Surkie's the better candidate. So this bleeds into the public image of the Warrior of Light as "the Azure Dragoon Cloaked in Ivory," in part because she shifted from the "obnoxious greaser/biker in all black leather" to the white uraeus overcoat she began to favor in part because it made it easier to jump people from above (same logic as to why so many birds and fish have darker backs but lighter bellies), but also because she's an edgy bitch it's just flipped for her (she was a Borlaaq who are devoted to Nhaama and have the dark color scheme of black/purple/blue+some reds, and was raised in Hingashi by a Doman; she views dark colors as the more virtuous stuff because of Nhaama, but because of that same belief + Doman and Hingan ones, white is more associated with death. She's conscious of how Nhaama's colors are used, so she's openly edgy with both but Eorzeans didn't get the white association so it peters off eventually). So DRG became Surkukteni's identity as a Warrior of Light, and it influenced initial stuff with Ishgard more favorably...at first. It was at first, it doesn't really last because this is while Surkukeni's still under the hyur glamour and only Alberic (and Estinien, actually) know that she's an au ra.

During post-ARR, Surkukteni (and Seraphin) meet X'rhun - and because he's met prior to Stormblood, his offer to train them is more based in what he sees immediately. Yeah, he knows that the two are Warriors of Light, but he's more interested in their character and how they respond immediately. While Surkukteni is at her most obnoxious and sardonic, he extends the offer to her and this matters a lot because it's him extending her a courtesy she's never gotten before. She's outwardly auri at this point, but she's more surprised he's willing to work with her given her extremely volatile and powerful aether. She was rejected from every guild on the grounds of her being a liability to herself and those around her, so having someone be willing to slow down and work with her based on her needs? Yeah, it catches her off guard and it allows her to begin to learn magic through red magic. This is her first teacher since Kitase to actually care to teach her from the get go (Alberic doesn't count, it took a while for the priority to shift) and she ends up very close to the guy just because he took the time to meet her where she was at and help her grow into her style of red magic (which leans more into her Dominants (ice/levin/water) than the standard stuff). This nets her an ally in the Crimson Duelists, and becomes important down the line.

DRK becomes the most important aspect of Surkie's classes even if it's not her main one in HVW. She gets through the intro stuff very quickly, but the important impact is the fact that she's taken to getting rid of Temple Knights since nothing seems to come of their horrific acts against Brumites. That opening scene gets amplified as yeah remember the skills from ROG? They apply here now plus the little caveat that DRK is yes Dark Knight, but she's more of a Demon Knight. Surkukteni has a voidsent pact at this point with a Hellhound by the name of Sétanta, and in combination with her hyur glamour from ARR, the rumors of a "heretic in indiscernible armor that's as likely to maim you by sword as they are to maim you by devil" begin to circulate like wildfire and this gets back to Surkie through Aymeric. She was doing odd jobs in a sense for Aymeric with Estinien while her allies were caught up and not allowed in (gee it's like one of them was caught in the act of working with necromancy or something), so she does a lot of random stuff around Central and Western Coerthas along with the Sea of Clouds. It's during one of the meetings where they're going over recent heretical activity and attacks that Aymeric lets slip that there's been an increase of Temple Knight deaths from within the city. Estinien, to no one's surprise, is pretty pissed about it and assumes that some heretic must have slipped past their grasp - but he's mostly worried about how this is going to reflect onto Aymeric. So he's not catching onto what Aymeric sees, and that's the fact that Surkie keeps coming into meetings with injuries that don't line up with how easy these jobs were - and how much it isn't like her to be getting into petty fights (this was the only thing he misread about the situation - that was her excuse because she's picked so many fucking fights). What led him to this assumption was: the fact that the blood that he saw on her was weirdly dark, much like the fouled blood rumored of Dark Knights; she was seen more around Sidurgu; and she's the only one he knows of with a glamour that can mask traits like horns and tails. So after the meeting talking about the new Dark Knight, he asks her to deliver a letter to someone working on the Dark Knight case, which is so fucking obviously bait. Surkie tries to not fall for the bait, but it gets at her anyways and she opens up the letter to find a list of names and an already signed envelope addressed to Aymeric, so clearly meant for return. Against her better judgement, she investigates the names and finds them all to be Temple Knights? And each has done something pretty reprehensible, but she's pretty sure this must be some trap. But again, against her better judgement she hunts them all down because she doesn't want to allow them the free reign they already have since someone down the line of command is openly covering for them and against Aymeric's orders - which is almost definitely motivated by who he is. She delivers a "letter from Camp Cloudtop", and is handed one that's "for Falcon's Nest". She's well and truly been found out, but this goes on back and forth through HVW until she gets a letter asking her to come to his home in civilian clothing so they may discuss a more sensitive job in person. AND SHE STILL DOES IT, she still shows up and this is when they're finally on an upfront basis of what these jobs are and who's who and it's also where he admits to the fact that he's trans and these next names were extremely sensitive because they were people who were onto him and they needed differing levels of dealing with. So while HVW is going on, Surkie's got this whole fucking side job where she's acting as Aymeric's hitman and getting that much closer with him - and part of what let him know what was up was because Sidurgu's his ex, so he was already familiar with this. So when she's finally working with her allies again and they start seeing the DRK stuff slip in, they're all extremely confused because Surkie just seemingly pulled this out of her ass.

HVW is where it really gets messy. As the other Azure Dragoon, Surkukteni initially gets a few more privileges in regards to Ishgard than the others - to where she's the only one of the group who's initially allowed into the city (along with Alphinaud and Tataru, since they were vulnerable). She's still there on the graces of House Fortemps, but most of this is carried on her title. HOWEVER. This immediately backfires with the heresy charges and the trial by combat, in which she is now landed with Significantly more charges than the others - including those who are still trapped in Camp Dragonhead - by virtue of the fact that they were expecting a Highlander and they got an a 6'1" auri bitch. Instead of seeing it for what it was, they saw it as her revealing her heretical nature to get access to one of the most vaunted positions within the military and to destroy it from the inside out. Because of fucking course. Obviously, she wins but this haunts her during the limbo of trying to get her party into the city (because even the others like W'khittri and her siblings are stuck). She's trusted by the likes of Aymeric, Lucia, Estinien, and Handeloup since they know better, but the general populace just saw her for what happened in the trial by combat - so all of that capital she could've used as the Azure Dragoon doesn't work as well because they see her as the assumed-heretic Azure Dragoon. So it's during this limbo that she goes and tries to find things to occupy herself with and it results in being dragged off the street by Jannequinard and being taught astromancy. She tries to argue that it won't work, but he won't hear it and she learns anyways - mostly from Leveva, but y'know. Yes, the tarot and star stuff becomes a way for her to connect with an aspect of her home culture, but mostly she connects with this due to the secret fate stuff going on. This - however - isn't really applicable to HVW's story; instead, it's the gd butterfly wing flap turned into a hurricane that bites them in the ass in post SHB. What does matter is when she went to go investigate a body in the Brume and wound up with a lot of trauma.

But this is also where her connection with being a Dragoon was shattered, as she began to view it as something frankly horrific because of what her role was in the Dragonsong War, how close she got to Ysayle, and then everything at the end. The shift to DRK was already happening since Seraphin was injured pretty badly and needed to back off but also because Surkie was disgusted by what she had done to get there. The hard shift came when Nidhogg - with Gae Bolg - injured her so severely that she couldn't keep up with it. She tried one last time at Rhalgr's Reach, but by then that was that. She gave up the lance in favor of a claymore because she was too physically injured to keep up and Zenos had shattered the spear tied to her identity. Sure, she kept up with the other classes and being a RDM gave her some advantage with the Resistance and working with X'rhun advanced some of her other studies, but at this point that image of the Azure Dragoon Cloaked in Ivory was gone. Unable to continue in that class and having it thoroughly ruined by its history, she fell hard into DRK and found that her shit mood only helped fuel it (NOT A GOOD THING). Her inability to continue as a DRG was something that wound up coloring how she interacted with Estinien during the Steppe stuff for drg70, especially since the final nail was Zenos' fault. RDM70 gave her the three scars over one eye, her work with X'rhun and the side trip to the Steppe wound up with this spur the moment idea that WORKS and that's sending the teenaged Borlaaqi with the potential for red magic to be trained by him, which built interest and thus more people getting involved in the revival in Ala Mhigo but also it fostered good relations between the two groups, some of the Borlaaqi stayed as Crimson Duelists, while others took the magic back to the Steppe to work with it further. So now there's just a bunch of deadly teenagers with foreign magic that are gonna be so obnoxious during the Naadam.

It's more that the lack of being a DRG is what impacts Surkie through everything. She didn't get the chance to redefine it in the way Estinien managed to since she's unable to keep up. She leaned further and further into DRK, especially as breakdown after breakdown and pain over seeming to lose Ysayle gave her a fragile yet extremely potent form of power through the class itself. And through SHB, this was how Norvrandt was introduced to their Warrior of Darkness, which fit all too well and kinda had her spiralling. Dark Knight has resulted in Esteem acting as someone who can talk for her and talk her through stuff, Esteem is now actively recognized by the Scions and people she works with. Esteem is as apart of MSQ as much as regularly recurring non-Scion npcs tbh.

Post SHB is where AST comes back to bite Surkie in the ass because Werlyt and Zadnor are heralded by the addition of a new party member: Krystsyng. Who they are quick to discover (thanks to Teodore) is an agent of the Forum sent to hunt down Leveva and her pupil. And Krystsyng figured out Surkie quick, and so there is a running plot up until half way through Endwalker of trying to deal with the fact that the Forum didn't let up like they said they would, and Krystsyng would see Surkie dead. ...Until she's called off and now she's just this menacing neutral figure that is way too friendly with them, but that's for post ENW.

.............surkies class situation is messy anyways

MNK is tacked on as something for Surkie's recovery period between 5.55 and 6.0, since this is when she has the twins. She picks it up to stay active early on, but W'khittri helps her get more into it post-delivery to help her get back up on her feet and maybe help her get back into DRG. It's a bonding activity between Surkie and her sister's girlfriend, and while she doesn't fully class as it, fundamentals are now incorporated into her other classes. This is also when she summons Diarmuid Ua Duibhne as her Reaper contract. This part is crucial because of how it ties back to Donovich, Saoirse, and even Ammut. Diarmuid is 13th Estinien, aka Donovich; Donovich was the younger brother of Cylva, and a close companion to Saoirse; Saoirse is 13th Surkie who is now the Morrigna; Ammut (Surkie's previous life) was executed by Amon with Diarmuid, and now Surkie is using Diarmuid as her voidsent. Beyond it affecting her combat, she has now thrown herself into a further chaotic situation with Fandaniel and Tiamat, and it makes Fandaniel more of an antagonist than Zenos just by the virtue of her being Ammut and seeming to just drag up everyone from that past. Diarmuid is equally as much of an involved character as Esteem, and if she hadn't summoned him she might have just died in the void. He fused with her to get her back to the Ragnarok in time (not the canon stuff by any means) and so now RPR has evolved in a sense because she's now half Voidsent. She's got a deeper connection with 6.X, she has more direct info about the turf wars, she's now a direct target because of who she fused with (ty Saoirse, you're so fkn helpful), all of the trial fights have been 1v1s because of RPR stuff, and in order to even have that contract to begin with Surkie had to swear to work on restoring the 13th, which was already in the plans. She does start to get DRG back, and putting an end to Zenos does help her start to work through things, but what really marks her shift in attitude is that her relationship with being a Dark Knight has finally and firmly reoriented itself away from trauma and more towards keeping her loved ones safe. Because she went from "messy relationship with friends/co-workers she's sure would abandon her + messy sibling relationship = feels alone constantly" to "she suddenly has a lot of romantic partners, three of which are her fiances, and also she's a parent now??" very quickly. And it forced her to reconcile quickly so she could be more self sustainable and get her priorities straight.

so like the gist of it is that the DRG>DRK pipeline was Surkie learning that her original goals were very off (she sought power; she needed agency) and the way it affects msq is that it's the tangible mark of her growth as a person and how she's really grown for the better. Her classes are more of how she's viewed, but some - like RDM, AST, MNK and DRK - have led her to forge deeper bonds and allegiances with others as well as create powerful enemies that won't leave her alone lmao

More than anything, her spells allow her to not only gain a better understanding of people and how the world works - driving her through her own curiosity - but it also backfires in that she's constantly getting into hot water over the legality of her studies. And she wouldn't want it any other way because she loathes the fact that stuff (like phytomancy) is illegal for deeply petty reasons. It allows her to shift into working with the alchemists of Radz-at-Han, it gives her a place at the Great Work, and she's one of the people who helped develop a vessel for Venat after Endwalker to keep her around. She wants to keep challenging what people understand and think of magic while simultaneously redefining stuff that has been scorned. Her classes are her story, and they both help and hurt msq because she's stubborn and she's the fucking necromancer.

Onto Gwendoline.

Gwendoline's relationship with classes and MSQ is interesting because her entire reason for hiring Surkukteni in the first place was a scapegoat and alibi should she get caught in her studies. She's a very skilled CNJ and ALC from the get-go, but she prioritizes necromancy, some aspects of voidsent summoning, and eventually white magic, black magic and other banned magicks. She has a very antagonistic relationship with magical law, will not shut up about it, and will not stop breaking said law because she has a personal vendetta against it for very valid reasons. Part of what allowed her to become a skilled CNJ was the fact that she is a chirurgeon for a medical underground in Gridania that takes in people that are shunned by the Guild and any healers. This means poachers, outcasts, and most notably (and importantly) refugees. She knows from intimate experience with various magicks and these groups that most of the arbitrary bans are hurting more than helping and she refuses to fall in line with them. Her entire interaction with MSQ is causing problems with her classes to challenge their very bans because she's VERY cocky and she would love to try and see someone stop her.

She views necromancy as an extension of her conjury, especially since it's helped her expand her abilities in ways that include stasis and other forms of preservation to keep someone at the state they're in so that they don't run out of time. Over the course of ARR, she picked up what magicks she could for the sake of learning, and wound up falling deeply into black magic and summoning to a degree, but mostly to see how she could implement them into her already expansive abilities.

Yeah she's a lot like Y'shtola in this regard it's no wonder they're together. It also makes it very obvious as to why she works so well with Teodore, later Katsuro, and then later also gets with Nidhana: she values intellectual curiosity and this is how she navigates her own jobs. They're useful tools, but she sees them as something for her to tinker with and expand beyond what the nations allow. It's through this that she revives phytomancy to a degree (which is something I came up with; it's a nymian attempt at replicating white magic that has vestigial spells in arcanima through bio and all the other spells) because it's through phytomancy that they bring back the "graft" spell to aid in Surkukteni's recovery from Nidhogg, then implement it on a wider scale since its use as temporary flesh could save a lot of lives that current healing magic can't address.

Teodore's main proficiency is Black Magic, and a lot of his studies are looking into the classical spells of Mhachi mages and trying to figure out if they've documented everything that was available. While he was in Sharlayan, he used to cycle through jobstones due to the fact that each one held various experiences and often very different spells depending on the original user and what point in the 5th era they were from. This work has manifested in what was originally a very middling stone from the 5th era that wasn't anything special being used as his stone and a culmination of his research. So while it wasn't really anything better than a paper weight, it now contains a plethora of spells from across the reign of Mhach that range from "vestigial black magic in thaumaturgy" to "spells that were likely only used by the likes of Shatotto or other mages of legend or infamy". His goal through ARR - and this influences where they go and what they're involved in - is to create stones that act as an entire database of Black Magic, which is then applied to all of his other stones - with WHM and SCH having fairly high priorities. He maintains SMN as a way to see if he can manifest egis separate from the usual affair - especially with that known limit of 3 egis + demi- summons - which again leads the group down some weird diversions into what primals he wants to seek out. SGE is the only one that's not for research purposes as that's actually his stone. It's what he learned prior to getting into magical history, preservation, and experimentation. Like Gwen, he inherently challenges the idea of why these things are banned...but unlike Gwen, he's not keen on breaking the law that lets him have this power because he genuinely cares about preservation! It's just he can't do that preservation if everything is dead!! So yes, Sharlayan comes up quite a lot because he's in a lot of shit - politically and academically - for getting involved in Eorzea's business. His ability to be in Eorzea as a Black Mage is tied together, and he ends up developing more spells as time goes on just by virtue of that adventuring. So yeah he's another problem in that he's using illegal magicks like Gwen, but he's also breaking Sharlayan law like Surkie and that has consequences later into the story.

Teodore is a lot like Gwendoline in the regard that his magic directly correlates with his story. He's the only one of the group who openly wields 3rd and 5th era magic without being apart of the guilds initially. The reason being is that he's a fairly renowned experimental magician - a sage in the classic FF sense and not the XIV sense - and has all of these jobstones on loan from the Forum for his research on the condition he doesn't meddle in local politics.

That condition was long broken and he hasn't obeyed it since the fight with Ifrit.

And finally, onto Seraphin.

What's funny about Seraphin is that his main class doesn't have as much impact on story as his side class ends up having. Seraphin is a gladiator to make money for his family; he is also one of the best on the Bloodsands as of ARR, but he doesn't enjoy it which is what leads to the bodyguard work and why he and Teodore got caught in the Ifrit bullshit when they weren't involved with MSQ prior to it. If anything, Seraphin didn't want to be involved in MSQ because he was still a gladiator and he still needed to support his family first and foremost. But as he was exposed to the Scions and the state of things outside of it, his goals started to get lofty - especially with regards to the liberation of Ala Mhigo and getting his family back to their homeland. Which is why even if he is a canon Paladin, he is not a sultansworn. One of the problems through ARR is how the party deals with Ul'dah and its governing bodies, and beyond what I already said about Little Ala Mhigo and the Amalj'aa in that other answer, a sticking point is the fact that Seraphin is hired to take down a rogue Paladin, but ends up joining him instead. This is someone who's well versed in the old practices and is more in line of the morality of what Paladin should be, instead of just a cop for the Sultana and Syndicate. Seraphin holds an illegal jobstone, and this is frequently used against him as they try to work with the Grand Companies - and he doesn't like any of this! He tries to keep his head down to not draw attention by the Brass Blades or Immortal Flames, yet now he's embroiled in this nonsense because he wanted to do the right thing. It means that every interaction with Ul'dah is made significantly harder because an Ala Mhigan Duskwight refugee is embarrassing the Sultansworn through outperforming them, is working with someone who broke from them to begin with, and is aiding the local tribes. Frankly, they don't even need to do the false regicide plot (even though they do) because they were already building a case against Seraphin prior to being named Warrior of Light. Branching out and learning from Ishgardian Paladins (another state institution, he doesn't stick around with them) and even from Skuld (who is a ~120yo Sharlayan Paladin trying to get that part of herself back) lets him figure himself out and what Paladin means to him, and it sort of ends up a blend of Cloud's initial energy in ff7 to something more like Cecil after he ditched the dark knight stuff and became a paladin in ff4. It's not state affiliated, it's entirely morality driven, and it's the other side of the coin to Surkie as a Dark Knight because it's doing the right thing For The Sake of doing the right thing on a very wide scale vs doing the right thing to protect those closest to you. Like Surkie, this becomes tied to his identity; and like Surkie, he suffers a grievous wound that makes it difficult to keep up (Fenrir mauled his leg in Snowcloak) so he shifts to two things to help with recovery.

MNK and RDM mean a lot to Seraphin due to their connections back to Ala Mhigo, but RDM means the most to Seraphin. MNK is an outlet for him that he initially picked up from W'khittri (like Surkie) but continued to train in it with the likes of Widargelt and Lyse as something to keep his mind off of the stress of Stormblood and potentially losing his homeland to the Garleans again since shit was looking bad. He doesn't really use it in serious combat and just handles it as a social thing - not that it doesn't help with the others, he just doesn't main class it like W'khittri.

RDM is the one that has a lot of importance due to the fact that he grew up on stories of the Crimson Duelists and really admired them, and now he's working directly with X'rhun. Where Surkie goes off to utilize that to learn how to better manage her aether while making connections elsewhere, Seraphin is the one to work directly with X'rhun to build the Crimson Duelists back up with members of the Resistance and help train them. He does this, in part, through the Doman half of Stormblood since he's in Gyr Abania then, but building up a new faction of Crimson Duelists is something he works on while X'rhun continues to travel to see if he can help others. This means there's a fair group by Endwalker to help with things, and this means he has an outlet during post Endwalker and something to occupy himself after the "disbanding" of the Scions. When I said that this has the most story impact, I mean it in the sense that the most changes because now there is a fairly strong revival of the Crimson Duelists compared to the handful of practitioners as seen in canon. PLD has a lot of consequences early on, but it's more personal stuff for Seraphin; RDM, however, now has an entirely new dynamic and function within MSQ because he is one of the people working to revive the spellcraft. He's also the only one of the group who's not immediately torn into by Sharlayan, and frankly they want to see if he or X'rhun would be down to help archive what they know of the magic and what Seraphin (and Surkie, tbh) have developed beyond its standard teachings. There are way more Red Mages in this version of MSQ - and a VERY diverse group of them, btw - than in canon as Seraphin doesn't want to let this die. This is a part of his identity and it's a facet of reclaiming part of what Garlemald destroyed by working on this facet of restoration.

And that's.

That's a lot but that's it! :D

god help me.

[voidsentprinces]

Hmm...you know. Now I think of it, Zero mentions the contract with Zenos wasn't ideal. And Zenos has always seeked his own strength, he knows that fusing with another being wouldn't grant him the power he needed for our reunion. He learned that from Shinryu and Zenos is not for doing the same thing twice. If we are to be reunited, he needs to find his own way of doing things. And then along comes Fandaniel. Who first is content with knowing Elidibus is gone. Who must of informed him and the rest of the Lesser Seated Ascians that Emet-Selch had past. So, he is overjoyed to know that he gets free reign. But he also knows the only thing to keep Zenos focus is the Warrior of Light. So prehaps, Fandaniel gets curious to send some of his goons out to take a look. And through the whispers of the First, learns of Ardbert fusing with us. He regales Zenos with this information. And so, not to be outdone, Zenos too seeks out the power of darkness that we had represent. Diving into the Void to discover a being which he too can fuse in an attempt mirror our fusion with Ardbert and comes upon Zero. Linking her and him together in a contract. And at the final battle at the end of the universe enters his reaper form just like we are now stronger in the light from Ardbert's spirit. Making Zenos the antithesis of us. We consumed many Lightwarden's aether and Ardbert's power helps us gain a grip on it. Zenos consumes many souls of Garlemald and of the Mothercrystal to regain his form as Shinryu while also having the Reaper form to mirror us mastering light from Ardbert's fusion. He becomes equal to us and our antithesis and reflection in that regard. Him becoming Ascian in all but name comes full circle to eventually equate to his version of us reclaiming the power and seat of Azem's legacy.

[ciitrinitas]

you know, i saw folks theorizing/hoping that ishikawa would be writing xvii, and initially, i was like please god no, but the more i think about it, the more i'd be all right with it. i don't think she's going to be my savior in regards to a female cast considering ryne, but ishikawa has far superior writing chops than maehiro in constructing a coherent and well-paced narrative that builds to a satisfying, thematic conclusion. i'm in the minority that didn't super vibe with shadowbringers because xiv never took the time to properly establish and bond with the scions as a group, so that reunion and dynamic did very little for me and that faulty foundation isn't ishikawa's fault, and i think ishikawa is a little too in love with her catboy. emet-selch and ardbert were genuinely great, and i often remarked when i played it that i thought the execution was really solid.

being unshackled from having the wol as the protagonist and having an actual established character would probably resolve a lot of my issues with the catboy. (i was pretty put off by most of the characters that were just like...super into my dumb, illiterate catgirl. i REALLY am not a fan of that type of pandering to the player, and it was compounded by how narrative precedence would be given to these [typically male] fan-favorite characters like catboy and the dead french catholic elf.) ishikawa also wrote some quests that were favorites of mine (coils! is! so! good! i'm still mad crystal tower [WHICH ISN'T VERY GOOD] is the mandatory raid series and not coils!!!!!!!), so i'd be a lot more interested in seeing her shoot her shot with xvii.

just please not the hw team again.

[leejafythe]

Dancer and the Lightwardens: Chapter 4

Alisaie - Originally posted here

When Leeja woke, she was unaware of what time it was. She already hated the blasted Light in the sky for screwing up her sleep, yet she figured it must have been morning given the sounds of movement outside her window. She got up and stretched, washed her face and changed into her armour, grabbed an apple and headed out to go and meet with the Exarch regarding Alisaie. She was tired already from repeatedly interrupted sleep and looked forward to getting a decent night’s rest. “So where are you off to now?” Leeja yelped in surprise at Ardbert’s sudden presence. “By the twelve, you scared the hells out of me!” “Ah, I’m sorry. I should have made myself known. But you’ve been to Kholusia, right?” He asked as she sat down. “Aye, from what I know you were born there?” Leeja looked at him with a soft smile. “I was. Eulmore was a lot better in those days. It’s strange, though.” She kept her eyes on him as he folded his arms across his chest.  “Go on?” “Being back there again. Everything is so different now compared to those days.” He smiled to himself and closed his eyes.  “I can’t imagine how it feels to be back to your home again after being gone so long.” Ardbert looked at Leeja. “Where are you from? From what I know of the Source no one has an accent like yours.” “I’m from a place called Radz-at-Han in Thavnair. It’s beautiful, so many bold colours, market stalls with people selling a variety of things, the food. Oh, the food is wonderful.” She smiled fondly before leaning forward and resting her arms on her legs. “I left home. Well, ran away more like. Parents were setting me up for an arranged marriage and I just… Couldn’t deal with it.” She sighed and looked up at him. “My apologies, you’re not here to listen to me complain.” “It’s fine. It sounds like a great place, though. I hope you get to go back one day without the fear of your parents.” They both chuckled and sighed softly. “What about that rogue you were with? From what I saw while we were there he seems incredibly fond of you.” She blushed and hummed softly. Ardbert raised an eyebrow as her ears flicked up and tail wagged fondly.  “His name is Thancred, by the way. But you’re right. We are incredibly fond of each other. I know that he’s here, I just don’t know where.” “I assume all your friends are here, then?” “They are. From what the Exarch said, Y’shtola is in Rak’tika, Urianger, the guy who worked with you in the beginning, is in Il Mheg. I’m off to go and find Alisaie in Ahm Araeng shortly.” She buckled her boots and stood. “I need to see the Exarch first.” “I’ll let you continue then. And don’t forget, I’m watching you, hero” he teased before vanishing. Leeja chuckled and stood. She left her apartment and headed to the Exarch to get the letter she needed.

Landing in Amh Araeng during a dust storm wasn’t pleasant. Leeja pulled her hood up in a bid to protect her face. She followed Cassard toward Mord Souq to help him and to gather information about her wayward red mage. The dust storm settled to wisps of wind and sand, but Leeja had sand everywhere. She was somewhat surprised by the mord, only to realise they’re just kobolds from home, minus the masks. Upon handing a gold piece she looked at the food that were laid out in front of her. “Welcome to Rhon Ron's, traveller! I have wares to empty your purse and fill your belly! Take your time! Stare and sniff before you choose! But no drooling on the merchandise, yes?”  “Can you tell me about each one?” She asked with a polite smile. She knelt down and pointed to each one, wanting to know more. First was the mushloaf. “Ah, very wise! You won't wither on the sands with a gut full of cactus fruit filling!” Rhon Rhon said excitedly. She was told about each one and opted to buy the mushloaf.

Only to share it with the rest of the people watching her. She attempted to eat them all but failed. “I’ll share the rest with everyone else, I think.” There was a loud cheer and she tried her best not to vomit from over eating. With a slow, deep exhale she felt better. She stood and grimaced as she handed out the bread. She then went to Cassard who smiled at her before letting her know he was unable to help her right away. She offered to help him, to go around the market for his purchases.  “...Cassard? It feels like an age since I last saw you!” A woman’s voice called out to him. They turned around to greet a woman with  large crate in her hands.  “Well, if it isn't the lovely Tesleen! It has been a while, but your timing couldn't be better. This woman was on her way to meet with Alisaie. I'm supposed to be taking her to your corner of the desert, but a misplaced order has commandeered my attention…” he smiled at her. Tesleen smiled warmly at Leeja. “...Wait, I know who you are. Alisaie has told me so much about you! You're Leeja, aren't you!?” Leeja stared at her for a moment in shock. “I… Uh… Aye? I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met before but I assume Alisaie has spoken about me?” She raised an eyebrow at her.  “I knew it! How wonderful to meet you in the flesh after hearing all those stories!” Leeja flushed with embarrassment and smiled. She was used to people talking about her, just not her friends. “I'm Tesleen. I work as a carer at the Inn, and I've gotten to know Alisaie quite well since she took up guard duties there.” Leeja nodded. “Oh! A pleasure to meet you then!” She smiled warmly at Tesleen, still feeling slightly shocked. Tesleen turned back to Cassard. “Do you want me to take over as Leeja's guide, Cassard? My shopping's all done and packed for the road, so it would be no trouble…” “That would be a great help, thank you!” Cassard turned to Leeja, letting her know they’d be in the area for a while should she want to return to the Crystarium. With a nod, she went off with Tesleen.

After fighting to clear the way, she and Tesleen made their way to the Inn at Journey’s Head. As they entered, Leeja noticed those with pale white skin, close to turning and looked at Tesleen. “Welcome to the Inn at Journey's Head. You might be our first visitor from the Crystarium since Alisaie arrived.” She spoke softly but with a smile regardless. “It's not much, but it's home for the afflicted and a handful of carers.”

“The… Afflicted?” Leeja asked, completely confused as to what she meant. “You...don't know?” Tesleen seemed shocked as she put down her crate of supplies. “I don't think I've met anyone besides Alisaie who was so unfamiliar with our situation here. Most folk have grown up knowing someone who knew someone… Hm. I might leave out something obvious, so it may be best to have Alisaie give you the full explanation.”  “I apologise, I haven’t quite become aware of it.” Leeja smiled apologetically. “Where is Alisaie, anyway?” She asked.  “Hm. I think she might be out on patrol.” Tesleen thought for a moment. “You could wait, I suppose but why not go and surprise her!? She usually takes a look at things from the watchtower first, so you might be able to catch her there.” “Heh, I’m pretty good at tracking people down, shouldn’t be too hard to find her.” Leeja chuckled softly as Tesleen smiled at her. “Well, in that case then it's not far─head out the south side and you'll soon see it. I'll stay behind, in case she comes back while you're gone.” Tesleen directed her. Leeja nodded and headed out toward the direction Tesleen said.

Leeja headed out in the direction she said and found small footprints that were clearly Alisaie’s. She followed them, until she heard a sound above her. As she looked up, she saw Alisaie leap down from the watch tower and noticed the miqo’te. “Is that?! It can’t be…” Leeja grinned at her as Alisaie defeated the sin eater she was chasing.  “Impressive. You’ve clearly improve in my absence.” Leeja smirked slightly toward Alisaie’s back. “Just a lesser sin eater, nothing to write home about. I knew you’d turn up sooner or later, though I had hoped for sooner .” Alisaie retored. Leeja winced at her response before giving her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, it took a while to find a way to you.” Alisaie turned to finally face Leeja with a smile. “How are you?” “All the better for seeing you. I met Tesleen, by the way. Told me where to find you.” Leeja chuckled.  As they walked together, Leeja caught her up with the news from home, and how the war was going. “We’ve fought them to a standstill then.” “Unfortunately, aye. There’s not much we can do right now. Riol and his network have been going into Garlemald but I didn’t get a chance to see him before I arrived.” Leeja sighed softly, both out of sadness for not being able to say goodbye to him and not being able to catch up with him. “I’m worried, of course, but he can defend himself despite my worrying for him.” “The Exarch did say the Empire seemed to have drawn back when he last looked into the Source. But without knowing for sure how fast time was progressing there, I couldn’t help  worrying that a lot might have happened since then” Alisaie replied as they stopped at what seemed to be a small graveyard. “Riol knows what he’s doing, you know he can defend himself.” She smiled softly as Leeja folded her arms. She worried for both Thancred on the First and Riol on the Source. Alisaie placed a hand on her arm gently. “You don’t have to worry, Leeja.” “I know, I know. I can’t help it though. I’m worried for Thancred here and Riol there.” She shook her head and turned her attention back. “What about you?” “Well. I’m heartily relieved that there has been no progression of the war, just as Alphinaud must have been. As you can imagine, both he and Urianger were desperate to hear the news from home when I arrived.” Alisaie explained. Leeja nodded. “I haven’t actually seen Thancred and Y’shtola yet, but they will have heard the latest developments from the Exarch by now – or should have, anyway” she said softly.  “I hope so. When I arrived, the Exarch spoke of Urianger’s vision and it uh… Safe to say it’s left me kind of shaken.” Leeja murmured. Alisaie nodded in agreement.  “When I think of how frantic Tataru and the others must be, I want nothing more than to rush back and reassure them. But we still haven’t found a way to reverse the summoning. And even if we had, we still can’t ignore Urianger’s vision.” Alisaie sighed.  “I’d rather not ignore it either. Dying isn’t exactly in my career options, nor do I want to see all of you die” Leeja frowned in response.

Alisaie went through everything she knew as Leeja listened diligently, and when she was finally done, they both agreed to finish off her patrol. “Let's report our victories to Tesleen, shall we?” “Sure, oh and she’s been telling me some… Interesting stories, by the way.” She noticed Alisaie’s look of horror.  “Oh, she has, has she?” Leeja grinned as Alisaie shook her head, defeated. “Let’s get going.” Leeja all but burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles, even when met by a thunderous look from Alisaie, which then melted when she saw how highly amused the miqo’te had become. It had been a year since she had seen Leeja and she felt better knowing she had finally arrived. They walked back toward the inn together as Alisaie filled her in on her duties that she had taken on.

“You have our thanks...and my apologies for leading you from one battle to another ever since the moment we met!” Tesleen smiled apologetically toward her. “It’s fine, if it keeps people safe then I’ll take on any sin eater and happily slay it.” Leeja’s ears flicked gently as her tail lazily swayed behind her. “In any case, I'm glad to see the two of you found each other. You have no idea how badly Alisaie has missed your company! Everything is always, “If Leeja were here, she would─” Tesleen started to speak. “That's an exaggeration! And I don't sound like that, either! I was simply trying to view matters from another perspective, and I respect Leeja's methods!” Alisaie cut her off quickly. Leeja snickered and shook her head. “It’s fine, Alisaie is just as strong as I am so even if I got here first, I’d have recommended Alisaie to come and support you all.” Leeja smiled proudly as Alisaie’s face burned crimson. “Leeja!” “I mean it, Alisaie.” The red mage couldn’t strike back and sat quietly as she began to pout.  “The way she leaps into the fray without hesitation, it really is something to behold. I might be a little smitten myself!” It was Leeja’s turn to blush and Alisaie’s turn to grin. “You wouldn’t believe the amount of times she’s been told that.” Leeja winced. Well, Alisaie wasn’t wrong. 

Alisaie and Leeja had been tasked to help out while Tesleen finished making the stew for everyone. They had even returned to Mord Souq where Alisaie explained the reason for purchasing the nectarine. “In my time here, I’ve borne witness to a lot of last meals. I feel just as helpless as before. No matter how hard I fight, it’s never enough.” “No, but you’re doing what you can. We’ll bring everyone back and we will take back this broken world and put it back together again, even if it kills me.” “That is not funny.” Alisaie frowned. “I’m not saying it as a joke. I mean it.” Leeja kept a straight face. A face Alisaie had seen before when they were in Othard, and then in Ala Mhigo. “I believe you. Gods know you’ve always kept your world.” She smiled as Leeja squeezed her shoulder gently. When they descended the tower, Leeja felt a pit in her stomach. Something was wrong, or about to become dangerous and the feeling grew worse the closer to the inn they got.

Leeja stopped walking and began to look around, trying to find the cause of the feeling. “Leeja? Are you alright?” Alisaie looked back at her. “Huh? Oh, something… I’ve got that feeling…” Leeja shook her head and caught back up with her. “The feeling? The bad feeling?” Leeja nodded and it put both of them on guard, mostly out of worry. The feeling had never let her down before and now it’s happening again? “We’ll have to keep an eye on things, just be ready to fight should we need to.” Leeja nodded as they entered the inn once again. Tesleen greeted them with a warm smile. “You’re back! I think it’s time for that welcome meal, don’t you think?” Leeja and Alisaie looked at each other and sat down at the table, still on edge.

They spoke as they ate with Tesleen explaining more about the inn and her own story. “When my mother finally left this world, I was mad with grie, but also thankful that her passing was a peaceful one.” “I’m so sorry, Tesleen. I can’t imagine what it must be like to not only lose your mother, but to sin eaters.” Leeja watched her with a soft smile. She knew not everyone responded well to sympathy. “Thank you, but I’m okay. She wasn’t in pain when she left.” She sighed and sat down herself. “It’s never easy ending a life you’ve cared for. Even when you go on to believe they’ve gone to a better place.” She picked up the nectarine. “I often find myself wishing for the Warrior of Darkness would come and do that part for me.” Leeja and Alisaie looked at each other, curiosity getting Tesleen’s attention. “The Warrior of Darkness…?” Alisaie beat Leeja to asking.  “You’ve never heard the tale? I’m not sure where it began, but every child in Norvrandt can tell you a version of it.” With a soft smile she began to recite the poem.  “Warrior of Darkness, servant of death, Take care of our souls at our dying breath Let sinners and eaters of sin go with thee That all may return to the sunless sea.” “Well, that’s the version I was taught anyway. It’s just an old bedtime story – he’s never deigned to visit us here.” Leeja looked down a at her bowl, chewing the inside of her lip. She could sense Ardbert watching from a distance.  “Which is a good thing, surely? He sounds rather ominous” Alisaie said. She watched Leeja from the corner of her eye.

The pit in Leeja’s stomach grew worse, making her groan softly and gripped her head. Her echo created the feeling, warning her of danger but this time, it made both her head and stomach hurt badly. “Leeja?” Alisaie looked at her worried, but when the patients began to look up at the sky, it made all the carers look at them all, worried. “What’s happening?” “They’re coming…”  “Tesleen!” One of the panicked carers came to a halt in front of her. “Have you seen Halric?! I swear, I only took my eyes off him for a second!” Leeja and Alisaie stood up quickly, looking at each other. “Leeja, Alisaie – we have to look for Halric!” They nodded and rushed off, trying to find any sign of him. 

As Leeja sprinted about, sliding on the sand when she tried to stop, she almost crashed right into a sin eater. She back up and freed her chakrams, filling them with aether and tying them to her hands with aetherial tethers. Once the sin eater was gone, she continued on her search and met with Alisaie. The sound of large wings above them drew her attention. “Did you see the size of that thing!? It must be one of the nasty ones! Wherever it’s going, it can only mean trouble. After it!” The pair sprinted away quickly. 

Yet when they found it, they found Halric at the same time. They wouldn’t reach him in time. Tesleen leapt from behind the eater, bringing her sword down and cutting it’s wing as she slid to her knees in front of Halric. “We have to run!” Tesleen’s eyes widened as the eater plunged it’s sword straight through her chest, filling her with light.  “Tesleen, no!” Alisaie screamed. Leeja grabbed her back quickly. “No, Alisaie it’s too late we can’t save her…” Leeja felt sick with both anger and sadness. Tesleen’s sword fell to the ground as she coughed up blood and went limp. She smiled as she looked at Halric. “We all deserve happiness… Wherever we can find it…” She lifted her hands to Halric’s face. “The time left to you… Is precious… No one should die… In pain.” Alisaie struggled in Leeja’s iron grip as she went limp and began to sob. Leeja turned Alisaie’s head to try and protect her from witnessing the scene unfolding in front of them. “Mother… Mother… I…” 

The eater tore its sword from Tesleen’s chest, leaving the wound glowing brightly with white light. Her body spasms as her eyes widened and a scream tore from her chest. The sky brightened ever so briefly, making it hard for Leeja to keep her eyes open until finally it settled once more. When Leeja opened her eyes once more, she watched with horror as Tesleen began to vomit bright white, the Light changing every part of her body and ripping away her ambient aether. She fell back on her knees once more, her face contorting horribly, eyes turning black as light pushed its way out of her. As she reached out, her body became cocooned in light. She burst through once the transformation had taken her completely and it was horrendous. Her body had been stretched, wings sprouted from her back. Her arms and legs had become stick thin, claws replacing her hands. Her neck had been stretched and absorbed her head, leaving her face showing. Her eyes had gone, replaced with black sockets and grey marks that looked like tear stains. 

Alisaie had finally torn herself away from Leeja and ran toward her, screaming and sobbing as she fell to her knees in the sand. The larger eater flew away and left Tesleen and Halric where it had landed. Tesleen raised herself in the air with her wings and turned to Alisaie. “Forgive me… Alisaie…” She forced the words out and flew off. Leeja knelt next to the red mage and pulled her close, letting her sob on her shoulder.  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Alisaie.” Leeja rubbed her back gently and just stayed there in the sand with her until she had calmed down enough to stand and take Halric to the inn once more. Leeja had collected Tesleen’s sword and followed back in silence. 

Leeja placed the sword on the table and went to Alisaie. “How are you feeling, sweetpea?” “I'm sorry, Leeja. I tried to tell the carers what happened, but…” Alisaie sniffled and wiped her eyes. “It’s alright, gather your thoughts and I’ll speak with the carers, okay?” She nodded and Leeja began to make the rounds, breaking the news to the carers who were all heartbroken to learn of the news. They both made the decision to return to the Crystarium. Alisaie bid her farewells and they left, despite the carers trying to convince Alisaie to stay a little longer.

When their amaro landed back in the Crystarium, they made their way toward the Crystal Tower in silence. Leeja didn’t push Alisaie, she knew grief and the hells it brought with it. They were shown to the Occular, where Alphinaud and the Exarch waited. “Welcome back, you two.” The Exarch said with a smile. Leeja shook her head and Alphinaud went over to Alisaie, pulling her into a tight hug. Leeja quickly gave them a run down of what happened.  “I think we could all do with a night’s rest, meet back tomorrow if that’s alright, Exarch?” Leeja spoke softly and he nodded. “A wise idea. We can meet back up tomorrow after you’re both suitably rested.” One last nod and they all left the tower. “Alphinaud, can you take care of Alisaie?” Leeja asked softly. “Of course. Come, let us return to the Pendants.”

When their amaro landed back in the Crystarium, they made their way toward the Crystal Tower in silence. Leeja didn’t push Alisaie, she knew grief and the hells it brought with it. They were shown to the Occular, where Alphinaud and the Exarch waited. “Welcome back, you two.” The Exarch said with a smile. Leeja shook her head and Alphinaud went over to Alisaie, pulling her into a tight hug. Leeja quickly gave them a run down of what happened.  “I think we could all do with a night’s rest, meet back tomorrow if that’s alright, Exarch?” Leeja spoke softly and he nodded. “A wise idea. We can meet back up tomorrow after you’re both suitably rested.” One last nod and they all left the tower. “Alphinaud, can you take care of Alisaie?” Leeja asked softly. “Of course. Come, let us return to the Pendants.”

[the-unending-journey]

Ship asks: 14.: Who does fashion shows after a trip to the mall, and who watches and compliments them? (entire roster as applicable)

Oh God okay (also sorry it's taken me so long to respond, I passed out last night and today has been A Day(tm))

Honestly, with the majority of Kiyo's ships, it's probably her that does the whole fashion show bit while her partner compliments her. Though, she's extremely hesitant and needs encouragement to do so because of her terrible self-esteem. Leofard and Haurchefant especially so in this regard. Though, Kiyo also tries the same on the flip side and it usually ends up like

Leofard and Haurchefant: absolutely all for showing off and making her smile

Aymeric and Oboro: not as gung-ho about it as the other two, but they don't mind and are really appreciative of her. Especially in Oboro's case when she helps him get more acquainted with Eorzean fashion

Ardbert and Sidurgu: very reluctant, though Ardbert is more compliant to play along. Sid? Noooot so much and it takes a lot of prodding from Kiyo to get him to do it and he's not even really into it lol He thinks it's silly, why are we doing this? Can we be done now? (though he does love seeing her happy)

Erichthonios (though I guess in this case it would be Claudien): he's a little awkward about it, but he plays along and he's honestly pretty appreciative of Kiyo's fashion sense

With Panacea and Hythlodaeus they both show their clothes off to each other and have a great time