#Shadowbringers Spoilers (kind of)

[eemamminy-art]

I love to think of the exarch being gaunt and thin and sickly looking, so consumed by duty and guilt and literally consumed by crystal that he loses passion in eating.

But then G'raha is full and round and healthy and he wants to try every single food he can and enjoy life 🥰

[impossible-rat-babies]

vierapril day 13--sun

don't look up, i think we made the sun cry

[justiceisoverr]

alternate universe

[fisherrprince]

I just had two wol thoughts at once 1) I like to think ch’ari is having the most fun on the fae’s side he hates being on their bad side but if he has fun with them he’s CACKLING gleeful he loves antagonizing people he dislikes (and also people he likes) 2) if ch’ari is ever at any point ever referred to as “uncle ch’ari” he will burst into tears right then and there

[witchloversupreme]

So, I was thinking about Garlemald lore again, because I'm mentally ill and obsessed, and I had a kinda fucked up thought. Explaining it is gonna take some doing, so stay with me.

If the garlean historians are to be believed (and the Sharlayans agree (As seen in Encyclopaedea Eorzea 1), so they're likely correct), roughly 1500 years ago, the garlean people lived in Corvos alongside the G tribe, in a situation probably not dissimilar to the M and Ala Mhigo, with a sedentary tribe fairly peacefully sharing their territory with a nomadic one.

Okay, so, here's where shit gets a little bit tricky.

There is only the ONE race of Garleans (Unless you count Jullus and Cid as a different race for being Short Kings), unlike all the other species of humans, who have at least two (Midlanders/Highlanders, Xaela/Raen, Dunesfolk/Plainsfolk), and sometimes even three (Duskwights/Wildwood/Ishgardians, Hellsguard/Sea Wolves/Far Eastern). This implies a very, very small, and very specialized population. A population that could, very easily, be displaced by a larger, more powerful group, like (as the historians posit) a large tribe of Elezen from what would later become Bozja, who, very likely, were themselves, forced from their homelands by invading Roegadyn and Hrothgar. If this tribe was sufficiently large (and magically skilled) enough, they could have very easily expunged the proto-Garleans from Corvos and forced them northward.

The Garlean historians claim that this forced exodus pushed them all the way into north central Ilsabard, but this is incredibly unlikely, as no matter how devoted to a people's total annihilation a tribe may be, hounding them the entire distance from Fantasy Greece to Fantasy Siberia is more than a bit ridiculous. But I digress.

What is more likely is that the Garleans were forced more westward, nearer to proto-Werlyt, where they likely settled for a time, before expanding north into the mountains which cut the continent in half (it is still violently upsetting to me we don't have a full map of Ilsabard). A few centuries of relative peace followed, where the proto-Garleans expanded ever so slightly further north, before, once again, they lost a war, most likely one against Hyurs and Raen from either Proto-Werlyt or Proto-Thavnair, and lost their southerly territories.

With no other option but continue colonizing northward, the Garleans did exactly that, eventually founding "Garlemald", the city, a few decades later, and the rest is, quite literally, history.

Now, with that lore dump out of the way, we can get to the real meat of my thought.

Almost all evidence points towards the Garleans simply being another species of human, just like Hyurs, Elezen, and Au ra, and not a "created species", like the Ixal, and, therefore, they definitely had a mirror race on the other shards.

But where the fuck are they?

I have seen neither hide nor hair of a single Garlean, be it in the flesh, as a statue, or in a tomb in Amh Areng, Kholusia, Lakeland, or Rak'tika. There's absolutely nothing to show that the Garlean people existed on the First, which is very, very fucking strange, as even the Amalj'aa and Ixal (sort of) have mirrors on the First in the form of the Zun and the Amaro.

I can think of two answers to my question:

The Doylist answer, (which is much less interesting), is just that Square either forgot to make any Garlean NPCs for the first, or decided against depicting First!Garleans, possibly because the race both didn't have an equivalent from a previous FF game, like the Hrothgar/Ronso, or Elezen/Elves, nor were playable, like like the Au ra/Drahn, or, because the Garleans are the go-to "Bad Guy Race" and they didn't want to confuse players.

The Watsonian answer, (and the one I subscribe to), is that the First!Garleans are extinct, having been driven to the brink by The Flood and over the edge in the ensuing century of strife, alongside many, many other species and peoples.

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

“But an echo of a person is not a person at all and the memory of a memory is a light at the end of a never ending tunnel. We can never go back to who we once were.”

-the memory of a memory, Katie Maria

[drkcatt]

is baya trans??

good question! she's afab and had little thought into her gender other than not being into femininity. she is butch. HOWEVER-- during shadowbringers she started having thoughts like "is it weird that i don't mind when people think the warrior of darkness is a man?" but mostly did not think too hard about them. and then after 5.0 when she Absorbs ardbert (trans man) she gets hit with very intense gender feelings and starts using he/him as well. i like to describe a'vaya's gender as "woman (enhanced)" because i wouldn't necessarily say she's nonbinary, it's rather that she like, installed plugins to her gender... ?????????? so no baya is not trans but she's not exactly cis!

[wind-up-thancred]

there's one particular little post SHB moment that worked shockingly well for my writing of katsu while i played through the game. bc i think, around 5.0-5.3, katsu is beginning to embrace his growing resentment towards titles like "warrior of light," "warrior of darkness," etc that he'd been trying to ignore since stormblood. but at the same time, he's too scared to try and discourage the other scions from using it for him. he doesn't like it, but who is he to fight fate? especially a fate given to him by the goddess that his closest comrades serve faithfully?

and then 5.3 picks up with all the extra "warriors of light" lore shenanigans, going into discussion about names and awakening and whatnot. and we're presented with these choices:

katsu, huffing copium and trying to deny that titles— including the one given to him— actually mean anything about a person's true nature, obviously goes with the second dialogue option. and then ryne hits him with this:

ryne, girl who Knows what it's like to be called a name that isn't truly yours. immediately (subconsciously?) clocking katsu out on his bullshit. is so fucking tasty.

of course he's like "ah... you're right, i suppose..." because he knows that SHE knows what it's like, and he's not about to deny her lived experience. the position the two of them are/were in is similar yet different— ryne was lucky enough to have a new name bestowed upon her that is completely independent of the legacy of anyone from before her or even her current role. no matter what she chooses to do, she will always be "blessing."

but for katsu, every title given to him— warrior of light, warrior of darkness— all emphasize his fight, his capacity for violence, to destroy. and the former title, to serve their goddess. even his birth name meant "victory" in ancient hingan. and as long as he stuck with the scions, it felt virtually impossible to separate himself from that violence. not until something else came along to attach his legacy to. but with some new threat emerging every month, would he ever get a chance?

i dunno. i love post shadowbringers. i love writing this lizard and i love how wol and ryne have a bit of shared experience that i could easily see them bonding over regardless of individual wol lore. even though he doesn't say it outright, i think this little interaction is a catalyst for katsu to start politely, gently asking the scions to refer to him with his actual name, not with "warrior of light" or "warrior of darkness" or whatever other title, whenever possible.

[lively-lizard]

Life has been busy and there was a lot of procrastination

but my journey has been fruitful to say the least

5.0 - 5.3 spoilers ahead

haha trapped cubus

Alisaie craves violence, you go girl

forgot to mention the weird shoebill that keeps appearing, heard from other people theorize that it's emet, they certainly have the same expression lmao

my girl is very pretty

:0 wasn't this the design of the first final fantasy's warrior of light

friend :D. huh, wondering who made that crystal but thank you anyways hythlodaeus, thank you for the crystal. Also, elidibus, making me kill my friends was not fun thank you very much

oh Jesus Christ, exarch you are literally crystalizing, sit the fuck down

These shots were very cool btw. Also, WHAT, so I was Azem, alright huh, that was a lot to take in

him :( , he came to save us after all

the fight was still stressful, i am so sorry about this bad screenshot Elidibus, my hands were shaking from the mechanics, the music was fire though as always

"The rains have ceased, and we have been graced with another beautiful day. But you are not here to see it." :(

anything for you G'raha :(

Seto and Ardbert :(

welcome aboard G'raha :D

Though i cannot express my true feelings that time i was playing, but i was screaming a lot, tears, not so much, i had to see the screen after all. I am technically already at the gates of endwalker, but the raids and trials comes next

[pangolinheart]

FFXIVWrite 2023 DAY 21 - GRAVE

Tesleen's death was difficult for everyone at the Inn at Journey's Head, and it was especially difficult for Alisaie. Despite feeling shaken herself, Rhiki takes it upon herself to do something for both of her friends.

(I can't take any credit for this one! It was a suggestion by several people in the FFXIV OC Swap Discord channel! I really appreciate all of the help!)

Rating: Teen Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort Characters: Alisaie Leveilleur, Warrior of Light (Z'rhiki Irhi) Word Count: 2,124 Content Warnings: Mentions of character death, mentions of body horror

Z’rhiki’s face was damp. It was damp with sweat, from the perpetual heat of the day as Mord Souq’s unforgiving, ever-present sun loomed overhead; with condensation, rising out of the cauldron as steam and clinging to her face as she hovered over it; and with tears, still slipping down her cheeks. Frustrated, she groped blindly beside her for the dishrag. Finally catching it in her fingers after a few probing attempts, she used it for what felt like the twentieth time to violently scrub the moisture from her face until her skin burned from the friction. Sniffling, she discarded the scrap of cloth once more and leaned back over the pot to check its contents. Good color, good aroma, good consistency. After another similarly disorganized scrabble for her ladle, she dipped it into the stew and brought it back up to taste. She hoped the saltiness came from the added ingredients and wasn't just the residual taste of her own tears, but if it did, it was perfect. She carefully removed it from the cookfire and began the process of cleaning up her culinarian accoutrements. She focused on breathing deeply and allowed the methodical motions of wiping and re-packing her items, then of portioning out the stew, to calm her so that she could keep her composure upon returning to the Inn.

With her supplies stored, the waste discarded, and the stew in thermoses lining her satchel, there was nothing to do but begin the short trek back.

It took her a few minutes to locate Alisaie after reaching the camp and setting aside her gear. She found her off to the side, in the shade of one of the massive stone crags that sheltered the camp. She was sitting with her knees hugged loosely to her chest, staring plaintively at the sandy ground in front of her but somehow giving the impression that she was looking at something much further away. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and Rhiki could see the salty trails of drying tears. She was sure her own face looked not much better, skin stinging and irritated from both the blazing sun and her incessant rubbing. Alisaie was no longer crying (and might deny that she ever had been, despite the obvious evidence), but the distant stare wasn’t much of an improvement.

Rhiki crouched down beside her. She reached out and gently touched the girl’s shoulder, causing Alisaie to at last tear her eyes away from the sand and look up at her.

“How are you holding up?” Rhiki asked softly.

Alisaie must have suddenly remembered the tearstains on her face because she reached up to wipe them away with one of her sleeves. “I’m… I’m alright." She inhaled shakily. "I checked on the patients, I helped gather and wash linens, I changed sheets and bandages, I sorted the larder, I carried supplies, I chased off some scissorjaws – I’ve done everything there is to do!” Cracks were forming in her voice as she spoke, “And it’s still not enough! Not even close! How can it ever be, when…”

Rhiki nodded, understanding. The grief was always easier when there was something to do. It was always there, lurking in the periphery, but at least if you were busy you could keep it at a distance. When there was nothing left to do, though, it would catch right back up to you. Alisaie had been in a frenzy, doing chores and running errands, ever since they had arrived back at the Inn at Journey’s Head to deliver the news of what had ultimately become of Tesleen – that her soul had been set free, and that the eater that consumed her would no longer tarnish her memory. It was partly to keep busy, Rhiki knew; focusing on the ways she could help so that she didn’t have to think about all the ways she couldn’t. But she suspected it was also Alisaie’s way of making up for Tesleen’s absence. Tesleen had always been hard at work around the Inn, performing whatever tasks were asked of her with a smile. Neither of them could replicate the glow her presence brought to the camp, but perhaps they could lighten the workload, at least for a time.

They couldn’t stay forever, though, and Rhiki had known that, at her frenetic pace, Alisaie would sooner or later run out of duties to perform. In anticipation of that, she had assigned herself a duty. It was small, but she hoped that it might ease Alisaie’s heart a bit. Her friend cared so much, and hurt all the more for it. But she never let the hurt stop her from caring. She deserved to have someone care for her every once in a while.

“C’mon,” She said, giving Alisaie’s shoulder a pat. “I’ve got something to show you.”

“Can it wait? I’m not really in the mood.” Rhiki could understand that. She was exhausted; they both were. She was weary and heartsick and fraying at the edges. Which was why it couldn’t wait.

That, and the stew would get cold.

Rhiki shook her head. “No, it can’t. But it won’t take long, I promise.”

Alisaie regarded her warily, but seemed to recognize the earnestness in Rhiki’s voice and in her eyes, and sighed. “Alright, then. What is it you have to show me?”

Rhiki stood and extended a hand to Alisaie, helping her to her feet. She led her by that hand out of the encampment and around the Inn’s outer edge. The sun still raged overhead, the heat making the air around them shimmer and warp. Even with the loosely-packed sand slowing their progress, though, it was not a long walk.

Soon, they reached a peaceful stretch of sand from which one could clearly see the standing stones that formed the walls of the Inn. Rhiki slowed, then stopped, and Alisaie stopped with her. She released Alisaie’s hand, and looked at the girl as the girl looked at her meager creation.

“Rhiki, what have you…” Alisaie trailed off. Rhiki was immediately self-conscious about the jagged, flat-faced stone she had salvaged from one of the nearby Nabaath ruins. Oh gods. This had been a foolish idea, she thought. She had totally overstepped, and hadn't even done a very good job. Why had she ever thought she should show this to anyone, let alone Alisaie?

It was just a piece of crumbling wall, but it was the nicest piece she could find, with one of its surfaces still smooth enough to carve on. She had spent hours trying to chisel a message into it, which had left her pouring sweat, with cracked palms and a sharp ache in her back. She had made her very best effort but, not having the proper tools for engraving stone on hand, her inscription had ended up rather crude, with its letters inconsistently sized and spaced. Though it was hardly a masterpiece, she was happy it was at least legible. Alisaie confirmed this when she said:

“This is for Tesleen, isn’t it?”

Her eyes followed the path of the chisel across the stone’s face.

TESLEEN

WE ALL DESERVE HAPPINESS, WHEREVER WE CAN FIND IT

Rhiki nodded reluctantly. It was for Tesleen, the kind and caring soul who had made them stew on Rhiki’s first night in Ahm Arang. Who had brought comfort to so many in the last days, even the last moments of their lives. Who opened her heart to the patients of the Inn with the full knowledge that at the end of their stay she would have to help them embark on the next leg of their journey. Who would see them off with a smile and the taste of their favorite food.

It was for Tesleen, but it was also for Alisaie. Her dear friend. The girl who strove with all of her might to make a difference, even a small one. The girl who tried, and tried, and tried, and kept trying when others lost hope – because even if it was hopeless, it was still better to try. The girl who cared so much it hurt. The girl who had grabbed her hands in front of the Aftcastle in Limsa Lominsa and begged Rhiki not to leave her alone.

They both deserved so much better than a chipped hunk of stone with a sloppily carved message in the middle of the godsforsaken desert. They deserved better than anything she would ever be able to give them. But at least she could give them this, what little it was.

“I-I know it’s not very good! I tried really hard, but you know my handwriting is terrible, even on parchment! I know that she should have something nicer – and maybe one day, when we fix all of this, we can make something better!” She could feel her words start to catch in her throat. “I know it’s not a proper grave, but one of the other carers - Willfort, I think – said that she cared about this sort of thing – about giving people the chance to say their goodbyes. So I just thought….”

She could feel the hot tears starting to form under her eyes. Alisaie had her face turned away, towards the stone, but suddenly Rhiki saw her shoulders begin to shake. She grabbed Rhiki’s hand again and squeezed. Her long braid jerked back and forth as she shook her head fervently. “No, no it’s not- I just- I…” Alisaie took a deep breath and tried again, this time looking into Rhiki’s eyes, tears already sliding from the corners of her own, “I think she would like it.”

Rhiki grabbed Alisaie and pulled her into a firm hug, feeling her shudder as she tried and failed to contain a sob. She held her there, and after a moment Alisaie returned the hug. She buried her face against Rhiki to hide tears that now fell freely, and Rhiki reached up with one hand to stroke her hair soothingly, though she had to sniff to force back her own weeping. She wasn’t sure how long they stood there, only that she didn’t let go until Alisaie finally stilled, and eventually pulled away on her own. She looked like she was about to say something, but Rhiki spoke first.

“Here, I- It’s not just the stone. There’s something else.” She dropped her hands from where they had come to rest on Alisaie’s shoulders to open the flap of her satchel and pull out one of the metal thermoses she had stored there. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she carefully unscrewed the lid and placed the open container at the base of Tesleen’s memorial.

Alisaie was sniffling so much Rhiki doubted she could really smell anything, but she had obviously gotten a glimpse of the contents, because she almost laughed.

“Is that… stew?!”

Rhiki nodded again. “Yeah.”

“Rhiki do you have any idea how hot it is out here in the sun?” Alisaie’s voice teetered between laughter and more crying.

“I know!” Rhiki said, “But… I don’t know what Tesleen’s favorite food was. And this was what the three of us ate together when I first arrived… though it is a lot cooler in the shade…” She shook her head. “It’s a bit late now but… that’s what they do here, right? Send people on their way with the taste of happier days?”

This time it was Alisaie’s turn to nod, and her eyes welled up again as though she was about to lapse back into sobs.

“I brought some for us, too,” Rhiki continued hastily, fishing the additional thermoses out of the bag. “So, you know, we could share it. But you’re right, it’s scorching out here, so maybe we should just take it back to-“

Alisaie seized the soup and wrested it from her grip before she could finish. “No! I- I mean, you made it for us to share, didn’t you? So, l-let’s have a little of it here, shall we?”

“Okay.” Rhiki relented and took up her own container. “I, uh, forgot to bring forks or spoons, so you’ll just kinda have to….” She mimed tipping the thermos up as if to drink from it, and Alisaie laughed, though still had to pause to sniff the mucus from her sinuses. She did as Rhiki had indicated and tipped some of the stew into her mouth.

“Is it good?” Rhiki asked before she had even had enough time to chew, and had to wait for a reply.

After swallowing, Alisaie glanced back at her. “It’s great,” she said, taking a deep, quivering breath. “It’s perfect. All of it. Thank you Rhiki. Really, Thank you.”

Rhiki smiled fondly at her “It’s the least I could do. For either of you.”

[crystal-verse]

Day 14 - Telling

[pre-mt gulg time feat. more rambling than i'd expected. this was supposed to be short but oops]

The last Lightwarden has been revealed as Vauthry, and the part of you that knows these things is both smug and dismayed. Yet more work to be done -- the man flying off above the clouds, the displaced top of Mt. Gulg. Plans are made and discarded and remade, until it's decided that a giant Talos will be built, to grasp onto the top of the mountain.

That's not what you're focused on, though. No, you knew that would happen. (The same way you knew that Vauthry would be the Lightwarden -- dreams or memories or simply knowledge, slotting into place, little gaps filling up with things that are not "yours" but are "yours" nonetheless.)

What you're focused on instead -- the breath in your lungs. The way the Light burns, ever present, beneath your sternum. Breathing hurts all the time, now. You'll bear it. You're used to this.

Instead of lingering with the Scions, the people of Kholusia and those from elsewhere coming to assist, you simply. . . slip away. You're tired, and your focus is scattered, and you would so dearly like a break. You can't get anything done, like this, so best for you to be somewhere where no one will look for you. Dulia-Chai makes some mention of the Exarch, and -- your focus narrows on that, for these brief moments. If you find the Exarch, you surely will find somewhere hidden, out of the way, where the two of you can perhaps rest in silence. (He has never made you speak if you did not feel the desire to, after all. The Exarch is a kind man, like that.)

You find them asleep, leaning against a rock at the edge of a cliff. Oh, how peaceful the Exarch looks, in slumber. (You feel guilt welling -- you know how exhausted they get, so far from the Tower. To drag him all the way out here. . . you know what it's like to be exhausted and still try to preserve your strength, try to have more left to do the things everyone expects of you.) You let him dream, and instead settle by his side. You're not as quiet as you'd wanted to be, though -- the Exarch startles, wakes, and speaks. And what he says -- you had had your suspicions before, but the way he speaks now is telling.

(You had known, that the Tower drained him, but now you know. The guilt rises, as it does further when he elaborates on the Tower and his connection to it. That Crystal Tower is you, some part of you knows -- it knows, though you have no idea how.)

He invites you to sit with him, and you can do nothing other than accept. He smiles at you, with that soft look, round cheeks and plush bottom lip, only the lower half of his face on display. Yes -- this is G'raha Tia. It can be no one else. You'd suspected, before, but know you know, for certain. You have memorized the shape of G'raha's face, the curve of his lips and the point of his chin, the gentle slop of his cheekbones, the upward tilt of his eyes. The cadance of his voice, even -- oh, the accent is different, but only slightly, and you know this voice. (It is the voice that Fray had tried to use, once, before they learned better. It is the voice that you had mourned, thought you'd never hear again.)

"Tell me," they say, as they look at you (as you try so hard not to lean into their side, though you've done so before), "when all of this is over, what will you do?"

The question leaves you off-footed -- you. . . don't know. You know what he might like to hear, perhaps, but. . . you don't know. In lieu of answer, you simply shrug, and shuffle yourself closer to his side. The Exarch -- G'raha, you are sure -- merely chuckles, and gently (checking, all the while, for any resistance on your part) moves you to be leaning upon him, and then arranges you so that your head is resting in his lap. 'Tis not the first time you have done this (no, in the many meetings between battles, when you rested at the Crystarium and chanced upon him in the quiet hours, the two of you would simply rest like this), but somehow this seems more. . . intimate. Perhaps by your knowing, truly knowing, who they are, now.

"Well," they begin, as if you had answered, "you needn't hurry to decide. I was merely curious to know what sort of future lay in store for a hero with his life ahead of him."

(You would have laughed, had you the energy, had the Light not burned. A life ahead of you -- ha, what a joke. Even without the Light, your aether eats away at you. You've only so many years left. Perhaps you've used the most of them, already.)

The Exarch continues on his speech, and you let his words wash over you. Their voice is so very soothing. So very soporific. You could fall asleep like this, you think. Perhaps they, too, would fall asleep, and 'twould be the two of you resting together, asleep, at this little hidden away spot.

You cannot help but ask, in a lull in his speech, to know more of them. Ah, but of course they twist it, just a bit -- of their plans after this, of course. (He is always good at hiding his face, metaphorical or otherwise. The mask of a kind, wise leader is no less a mask than that of a boisterious archer, adventurer and scholar both.)

And oh, the longing in his voice, the love -- if you had not known that this was G'raha Tia then that would surely have given it away. The way the Exarch speaks of it -- of loving but not wanting to burden -- is far, far too similar to how G'raha had spoken to you, in the last few days that you had known him.

(He had confessed to you, and then disappeared upon that expedition that had called them to Eorzea to begin with. You had not the time to settle your feelings on the matter, before you had been called upon for your own primal-slaying duties. How you wish you could have given them an answer, then. How you wish you could give him an answer now, as the Exarch. You think-- you think the answer may be "yes". You might want to try.

But the Exarch speaks the same way that G'raha does -- so utterly in love, but not wanting to press that against you, not wanting to pressure you. All-too-aware of how you do not experience love the same way, all too aware of your happiness, of not wanting to discomfort you with the fact of his love -- yes, 'tis G'raha Tia who is the only one to be so kind and understanding of you, in this matter.)

You will have to leave, soon, you know. The Exarch will be needed below, for some reason or other, and you will be needed to slay the Eaters and Lightwarden both. But for now -- you sigh, and settle further in your place, and close your eyes. Gently, the Exarch unties your braid, cards his fingers through your hair -- the Spoken hand, you think, rather than the crystal. Purring helps ease the burn of the Light, and the Exarch makes a soft noise at that, but does not stop the gentle motions.

(Things will be fine. You will kill Vaurthy, feast on the Light, bring the night sky back to all of Norvrandt. You will return to the Crystarium, and ask the Exarch about his true self, and you will sit with them and talk. And -- a foolish dream, perhaps -- but you hope to rest in the Crystarium for some while, and not have to be a hero but simply be. It would be nice to rest like this with the Exarch more, you think. To sit by their side, and perhaps play songs together, his voice and your lute, or their harp and your own violin. But all will go well. Just this last Lightwarden to slay -- and then you will deal with whatever comes after.

Gods, but you are so tired. You wish your dear G'raha could save you from that.)

[ahrisaamariyo]

while im thinking about him (as i often am). i keep thinking about how g'raha puts his hood up before he dies as the crystal exarch. hiding his face, going out the way the people of the crystarium remember him. theres something about the way he gave up his sense of self that really gets me

[marionmaverick]

I haven't got to Raphael wanting your soul yet, though I've seen the "soul contract in an orb" bit.

But I do wonder if he'd low key want nothing to do with the Warrior of Light's soul.

Like, Calem didn't do Dark Knight, so at least Frey and Myste aren't kicking around. But even without that, you've got the echo which is just a blinding white blessing of light, you've got it being the soul of some past incredibly powerful being that's been stitched up/rejoined 8 times. One of those times It came in the form of an Ardbert if you want to assume he retained some sense of self upon rejoining. It nearly got atomized and then put back together with darkness from all the light corruption, and also has a voidsent just half way bound to it kicking around in there since Calem might of picked up the Reaper class at some point. and also the pixie pact.

Like would Raphael be like "actually I'd rather not" when he sees that patchwork quilt of a soul? Or would that and the fact it's basically a power generator of magic make him find it more interesting??

[justiceisoverr]

whole again

[fisherrprince]

(head in hand) there is. a lot going on in the shadowbringers trailer

[cantspelldragoonwithoutgoon]

power couple (heh)