#Reincarnated WoL

[quinnthebard]

WIP Wednesday :)

A snippet from Like the Dawn, my funky little eighth umbral calamity au thingy? AO3 Summary:

At the world's darkest, just past the events of the Eighth Umbral Calamity, G'raha Tia spends his days surviving. No one woke him up with a plan, the Ironworks crew having not survived long enough to devise such ideas or mechanisms. The world is lost and hope's light snuffed out.Or so he thought until he peered into his mirror and saw her, an echo of someone he knew long ago. Suddenly, an ember thought long dead, rekindled. Reincarnation is a myth right?Then, like the dawn, hope rises and his destiny takes a turn he hadn't foreseen.

The rustle of the reeds from the near barren lake’s shore feels ominous. A wind stirs. The hairs on her arms stand tall. Instinctively, she reaches a hand towards her weapon and she looks around and sniffs the air, the intense scent of ozone, of aether making her nose wrinkle.

Hear…

Saoirse’s heart pounds. Hear wha—

A scream pierces the sky and she runs.

It can’t be very far. The scream was so loud. The soles of her feet pound against the ground, her chest feels—

Feel…

—heavy, breaths shallow and she has to focus in order to keep them long and strong. Another shriek, closer, she thinks.

Think…

Resolution sets in and her fists clench. Exertion is taking its toll on her stamina but still she pushes onward until she reaches a small cavern, its crystalline formations a mix of the familiar blue and the out of place orange uncommon to the rest of Mor Dhona as known to her. On the ground, a child cowers and quivers in the face of a beast or—

—a nightmare more like.

Her blood runs cold at the sight of it. It’s hulking mass was a void of the deepest night. Light can not escape its darkness. Its limbs are barely identifiable within its miasma and the sanguine glow of its eyes felt unnatural. Whatever it is, it commands attention and power. Frozen, she stares, hands useless at her sides. Resting, holstered on her back, her bow is useless but for the first time she’s petrified, well and truly.

Surrender not, my child.

That voice. Saoirse feels like she should know it. It’s comforting, feels like a warm embrace. Caressing her, it floats on the breeze, seemingly audible to only her and with it, the strength to reach back and knock an arrow, taking aim at the creature threatening an innocent child.

A deep breath, steady aim, right at the heart. Or what she assumes is.

Look thee to the Light.

Exhale. Release.

Her quarry roars, rearing tall on its hind legs. The arrow struck true.

“Run!”

The child, a young elezen, whips to look at her, eyes wide and red from crying. He needs comfort but there’s no time. “Run, I said! You must leave! Hide!”

But the child hesitates and, taking advantage of the opportunity, the beast lunges.

It is like time has slowed. Saoirse has no time, yet an eternity to react. Her instinct fuels her, she knows what will happen and what must be done to protect the innocent. And so she does.

First, she reaches to her waist and yanks her knife from its holster. In desperation, she throws. It’s unpracticed but effective. The blade does little damage but it successfully pulls attention to her. Another roar, deafening. Her heart pounds.

Deep breaths.

Again, she knocks an arrow, watching as this time the beast bounds straight for her.

Feel…

Wait. Patience. She must have patience. Darkness incarnate races towards her; its fists pound into the ground impatient to instead impact with her flesh.

Think…

It’s close now. She can smell its rancid, foul odor. Its bitter, much like its heart must be. Just a bit more. Her arm aches from holding her position but then finally—finally—it is time.

Exhale. A silent prayer. Release.

The arrow flies true, leaving an otherworldly trail of light in its wake until it strikes the fiend in the eye, driving in deeply. It takes her a moment to register the scent of ozone that lingers but then she realizes—aether. Her suspicions are confirmed when the arrow bursts felling the beast, its shriek of pain stopping in an instant. The world falls silent with it, all is still except for the heaving of her chest as she processes what just happened.

Then there’s the sound of something falling to the crystalline ground, delicately tinkling until it settles. Verdant eyes search until she spies what caused it. There, just ahead, near the body of the beast lies a crystal. It is completely different from that which makes up Mor Dhona. It is not simply a piece broken from the star, left to crumble but instead a seemingly crafted vessel of sorts. It glows gently.

She chews her lip in thought as she approaches, worrying it between her teeth. Saoirse is unsure what to make of it but it seems to call to her. Words echo, deafening yet silent. It speaks to her directly to her mind.

Hesitantly she reaches out and as her fingers touch its smooth, strangely warm surface, her vision goes black.

[nshi-ao3]

Pffft haha! "Oh my god, you guys! They added my WoL to Smash Bros!"

[asleepinawell]

i know i'm in the vast minority here, but i did always wish that the wol was a complete nobody. i saw the azem thing coming a million miles away and was kinda bummed out by it. i really wish the wol had been the soul descendent of, like, bob the ancient janitor who had the most normal life ever. i do also enjoy the whole emet/hyth/azem drama and think they wrote it well and this isn't a knock on what other people enjoy, i'm just always a little sad that the wol wasn't random adventurer no 5 both as the ultimate refute of emet's ideals of the sundered being unworthy and as a subversion of so many chosen one narratives. like the only reason they get any special attention from hydaelyn beyond the other people with the echo would be the time travel shenanigans. alas

[renrenkaaa]

The Past and the Present

Went back to my old Apollo and A'rhun doodle I made sometime ago and updated it? Kinda?

[queseraphita]

if they met their future and past love interest

[astralartefact]

Following the PaperTrail to Tural A Paper Menphina Side Quest

In which Paper Menphina helps Not!Marie NieR Reincarnation retrieve her novelty wine glass of doom and destruction while 2 Pictomancers are just happy to be included for once. i don't know how this always happens but i guess i gave paper menphina a canon story now? hey, and maybe i will reveal it one day!!! probably not

i'm probably doing wuk lamat, erenville and [whoever else i liked] after the expansion just in case somebody gets to change out of his work clothes...

[zakifairer]

heart to heart

and hearts aligned

[tcmpestes]

I do think Azem’s got some gender fuckery going on. More on this in the future I’m sure

[stuckintwilighttown]

Sentinel Savior (still salty the nier raids healing set doesn't look like 10H's)

[akirakirxaa]

City Lights

This place feels different now.

As if the city knows the one who built it is gone.

The city so familiar that I'd never seen. Built by the one who should've been my enemy but never felt like it.

You could've said something, but you just had to be difficult. The others may not have believed, but I would have.

I'll miss you, you miserable bastard.

[bnuuywol]

i need to hear your own drk lore bc i need to slam my custom drk lore in return. i want to hear your bnuuy’s lore. sorry for the aggression xiv brainrot is string

Lmao no need to apologize! I get it, I'm much the same xD

If tis lore you desire, then tis lore you shall get:

SO. Walk with me to the Thirteenth for a moment, during the era of the Contramemoria before the Flood of Darkness. There's a bun there whose name is Einarr Odysseus. He's a memoriate, and he's the shard of Azem who resides in the 13th. Viera (or whatever Viera may have been called in the 13th) having the long lifespans they do, Einarr was alive and fighting from as early as when the first eidolons began appearing all the way until the Flood of Darkness consumes the world. He's not saved from the Flood, his body is warped by Darkness and he turns into a voidsent.

Flash forward to the Fifth Astral Era of the Source when the War of the Magi is raging. Black mages summon voidsent to the Source in order to do their bidding and fighting in the war. The voidsent that was once Einarr is summoned during this time. Bound by the magicks of the mage who summoned him, he answers the call, he fights, he falls. Being in the Source, his soul is drawn into the Lifestream. Within the madness of the Sixth Umbral Calamity, as the shard from whichever world was rejoined merges with the soul of Azem in the Source, Einarr's soul, the shard from the 13th, is drawn in and merges with it as well.

Having been completely corrupted by Darkness, however, leaves a permanent change upon that shard that seeps into the rest of Azem's soul in the Source. When Phoenyx is born, his aetheric balance is naturally tipped towards Darkness. In fact, trying to tip it away from its Dark-aspected nature leaves him unbalanced and unstable.

Now flash forward with me once again to Heavensward. When Phoenyx finds Fray's body and soul crystal and Fray tells him there's a darkness growing in him, he's unknowingly speaking of this very thing. Sure, this is already a part of dark knights, using their own internal "darkness," meaning their negative emotions (or strong positive ones when you get around to post-level 50 and its a strong sense of love and protectiveness that fuels it) to create dark energy woven of their own aether. But for Phoenyx it's rather more literal. His aether is Dark-aspected. So rather than creating this energy, it's closer to the kind of aethetic manipulation that black mages use with elemental forces (which, in part too is why he could harness dark knight so easily, because he already has a background in "dark magic"). He uses his emotions to fuel his ability to manipulate primordial Darkness. The kind of Darkness controlled by the Ascians, the kind of Darkness that Zodiark himself is woven of.

So while Phoenyx is the Warrior of Light, Hydaelyn's chosen, protected by Light, as a dark knight, he actively uses Darkness in weaving the spells associated with the art. He doesn't even realize he's doing this. By the time he understands his Echo ability to sense his own aetheric balance, he assumes its tip towards Darkness is because he's a dark knight, a conclusion Y'shtola comes to as well. But he doesn't realize that its actually the selfsame force that the enemy uses against them. That in being Hydaelyn's "Bringer of Light" while having a soul seeped in Darkness, he is a living manifestation of the balance of the star.

This is also why he's so strong against sin eaters and Lightwardens in the First, why he's able to stay somewhat stable with all that Light inside him until the fourth Warden. But it's also the reason he's so fucking terrified of turning into a Lightwarden. Because even if you put aside the implications of what that dooms the world and his loved ones to, there's just this deep seated memory of Einarr's that's etched into his soul. The memory of being corrupted by Darkness and turning into a voidsent. The powerlessness and agony that came with it. He's scared because he remembers what it feels like and never wants to go through that again. But Phoenyx doesn't consciously realize this, it's a trauma burned into his soul.

This,,,,,,,,,,,,, ended up being way longer than I intended but please share yours also!!!! I wanna hear your lore!

[ship-garbage-pile]

Sentra, the warrior of light adventures through the cage with the strange bedsheet ghost named ‘Mama.’

[keicordelle]

The Daily Inconveniences of an Au Ra: Rebirth

If there was one thing the Dotharl were known for - well, it was probably their bloodthirsty desire for battle. But if there was a second thing always associated with the warring tribe, it was their belief in the reincarnation of those souls that died in the glorious flame of combat.

It was a concept that outsiders seemed to ill comprehend at best, and openly deride at worst, but Keshet had been born into it - dozens of times over, even. He harbored no doubt as to the validity of their beliefs - how could he, when he had watched friends and loved ones die in battle, only to see their eyes staring back at him moons later in the face of a fresh born infant? He had heard the stories of past incarnations of his soul and found himself within the tales. He had grown into exactly who he was meant to be, who he had always been, and rekindled relationships from his past life.

He could, however, understand why some doubted them. It would be easier to prove if they retained the memories of their previous lifetimes, but with each iteration they started fresh, required to learn again the skills they had once mastered. There were even those among the tribe who doubted; poor Mauci had never felt quite right with the name he'd been given, and he was not the only late bloomer, about whom rumors circulated around late-night campfires. So too was it perplexing that their skills were not always exactly the same from one life to another. A master swordsman might take up an axe or daggers upon reincarnation, but undoubtedly his technique would always reveal the truth of his identity.

Nor was it easily accepted amongst outsiders that their bodies did not always reflect their souls. Skin color, eyes, hair, horns, even sex changed from one lifetime to another, but the soul was constant, and it was exceedingly rare to uncover that a Dotharl had been misnamed. Whatever method the Khan used to determine whose spirit inhabited a newborn was exceptionally keen - Keshet had always wondered if it was some sort of magic Sadu employed, but he'd never received a straight answer when he asked.

So it was that Keshet had little trouble wrapping his head around the concept of the Minfilias on the First, the same soul reborn over and over again to fight on. Even the method seemed much the same: they died fighting, each and every one of them going out on a flame of glory on the battlefield after a short and brutal life, only to be reincarnated in short order as an infant, bereft of the wisdom she had garnered before. That she was a hyur was the only unusual part of the whole situation, though the Dusk Mother - Hydaelyn, if you preferred - was known to bless others with such gifts on occasion, and Keshet was more than willing to accept that his old friend, once the Oracle of Light, had received such favor.

Alisaie, it seemed, was not so willing, deprived as she was of a Dotharli upbringing or familiarity with their customs. She rocked back on her heels as they listened to Moren recount the tale, as surprised as if she were hearing it for the first time (although given her penchant for tuning out while people lectured, perhaps she was). "I don't even know- how can that be?" she demanded, doubt written plain in every line of her body. She glanced at him for support, lips parting when she found him utterly at ease with the prospect. "You're taking this in stride," she observed, crossing her arms.

"Why shouldn't I? It's no different than the many times I've been reborn." Her jaw dropped, and she blinked at him, words failing her. Keshet grimaced at the multitude of questions he saw swirling in her eyes, heading them off before she started in on him with a hurried, "But we don't have time to get into that now."

Though, as he made his was back down the stairs to consult with the twins away from prying ears, he found a new worry blooming in his chest, one he had not even thought to consider until the story had be presented to him: if he were to die here, on the First, what would become of his soul?

Read the rest of the series on Ao3!

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[morganaux]

((Again, I don't usually post shipping screenshots here, but I really think I popped off with this one.))

[queseraphita]

[quinnthebard]

Finally updated this fic after a bit over a year lmao