#Y'shtola: okay

[wildstar25]

Arsay wasn't going to let herself be the only one getting dressed up for some All Saint's Wake fun! Every carbuncle needs a summoner after all 📖✨

It took a whole lot of begging convincing, but Y'shtola eventually agreed to match Arsay's costume on the condition that she could pick the colour of carbuncle.

Far less work went to talking G'raha into dressing up. All that was needed was a few bats of her eye, asking "pretty please", and a genuine article of an ancient Allagan's summoner's outfit for G'raha to warm to the idea.

[agui-chart]

Endwalker ending was really sweet (maybe?)

[42wv]

FFXIV x Yu-Gi-Oh! 5DS Signer Dragons (and bonus)

[scionshtola]

💎💎💎

[impossible-rat-babies]

unmatching pieces

ffxiv | 1.7k words | shb msq spoilers (up to lvl 75)

“I knew…”

They speak softly into the oppressive air between them. The sharp humming of the light drenched sky above them looms like a heavy weight across their shoulders—eager to crush them beneath its weight.

“I knew what was happening—after Il Mheg, I could feel it. The Light and its blighted touch not fading, but seeping into my body.” They look at Y’shtola, watching her lips purse and her brow scrunch together.

“And you still feel it…?” She asks slowly.

They nod, gaze drifting down to their hands.

“In my fingertips—I feel them stiffen when I pause for too long, and a tingle when I move them once more. A weight in my gut, and an itch at the back of my throat. Behind my eyes.”

She sighs, yet it does little to ease the worry that holds her shoulders closed and lips pulled to a thin line. Her hands folded neatly in her lap, clenching together.

“Forgive me for not having spoken sooner.” She admits with a heavy exhale, her shoulders dropping.

“Nay, I should have spoken my mind soon after arriving Slitherbough. Mistaken as you were to my nature upon us reuniting, I would not so easily cast aside that which you beheld.” They pause, a bitter smile rising to their lips. “A brilliant soul, I have been called before— nomenclature befitting Hydaelyn’s Chosen. And yet it is not Her light which eats away at me now.”

They stare down at their hands, feeling the tingle across their flesh—like needles in their bones, and blades wedged into their tendons. Heavier than they remember--stretching back to their shoulders, at the base of their neck. Their sword feels clumsy in their numb hands, their steps unbalanced by clumsy legs.

They asked Tesleen about the transformations when Alisaie had stepped away. What happens before the transformation full takes hold--the changes during that long, agonizing march towards death; they bade her not to spare them the worst of it, that they would know all of the inevitable that awaits the infected.

They recall the way Halric’s hair felt—straw between their fingers. Fragile like wheat breaking away from the shaft. How his skin was smooth as plaster--marble, even. It was sand they brushed from his cheeks, but they wondered if one day they might brush white dust from his cheeks like chalk and press it betwixt their fingers.

Press like how they press their index finger to their thumb, trying to feel the metal and leather of the gauntlets pressing into their skin. A hint, even as their knuckles strain.

Y’sthola’s heavy gaze settles on them and they know well the face she’s making. They will tell her that they are fine with a smile that tugs the corners of their lips unwillingly, and hopefully she will allow them this lie for just a little while. A way to keep the fear at bay—to keep their feet moving forward. Idle bodies do little work, and there is much work to be done. Only work they can do--even as their stomach writhes and squirms. Tesleen's descriptions of the fate that awaits them ever present; her death and the cocoon that cradled her fleshed turned to liquid light and reborn stuck behind their eyelids; embedded in their ears.

Y'shtola merely sighs, leaning her head against their shoulder as she takes one of their hands in hers. Knits their fingers together and rests their clasped hands in her lap, her opposing hand resting atop. Tracing little circles across gloves with her thumb, the chipped nail catching against a frayed thread, but they don’t complain.

They sit in the relative silence, watching the members of the Night’s Blessed attend their chores in quiet ease. Water to the crops, the stalks of wild corn and gourds stretching towards the sky. Barely there conversations from nearby as a pair of older women sit with well worn hand looms, easily passing thread from one side to the other. The brush of a broom across the stoop and the pause as the young woman easily scoops up a young toddler from crossing the threshold, a bright smile on her face and he quietly babbles. One of the few children born here since her arrival, Y'shtola had told them.

Above the sounds of the light, birds still chitter and called out; insects hum in the brush, shuffling through the leaves. Small white butterflies flutter by, almost indistinguishable from the speckles of light lazily floating through the air that is almost cold.

“Tell me truthfully, Eyrie.” Y’shtola breaks the quiet, eyes keen on watching her people. “Do you trust Urianger? How he needed more surety of the light's effects upon you?”

“….Tell me your thoughts.” They reply after a long pause, brow furrowing.

She sighs, short and clipped.

“I trust him…” She admits, “And yet in this matter I do so hesitantly; tis difficult when the man is so convinced of his need for secrecy. He would wait to know for certain if the corruption is not merely dissipating from you when you speak to the contrary, and as I can plainly see.”

“Carefully has he always laid his plans—I do not blame him for wanting surety with his own eyes er he thinks of a course to act upon. Even at the cost of precious time.” They answer her before continuing to speak. “Ever has he kept his cards close to his chest, so prepared to give all for our chosen cause. By his betrayal in the Source did salvation come to the First—that this world might yet be saved.”

Eyrie pauses, looking out across Slitherbough.

“I do not doubt that our friend is not thinking of all that is at stake. But, nevertheless that plan costed Minfilia her life." She reminds them. "Even if she was already lost to us, and such was her own wish."

They look down, shifting to hold her hand--lacing their fingers together. “Aye, I have not forgotten.”

“If there is some secret he is keeping, I pray it does not come at a price we can ill afford.” She looks to them, a hint of softness behind her eyes. “Most especially when it concerns you, my dear friend.”

Eyrie can’t help but smile at her despite the weight in their gut and the ache behind their eyes as she moves to stand, letting go of their hand to brush the ruffles of her skirt back into place.

They too carefully stand, letting their greatsword rest a moment longer. “Wait, Y’shtola--before you sweep yourself into some all consuming task."

She gives them a look and they sigh softly and smile gently.

"Give me your hands.”

They hold out their empty palms and she eyes them, looking at them with careful curiosity, before heeding their request. She turns back to them, clasping her hands in theirs. She stares up at them, keen as always to unfold their thoughts just from their eyes. Always has she been so keen to look, and they have not been beyond her scope of careful examination. They try their hardest not to look away.

Her hands are warm as they run their thumb across her knuckles. The callouses are heavy along her thumb and fingers, not far from her hands back in the Source—worn and painted from her insatiable desire for knowledge. Ever hungry for tome after tome, mural after mural to pick apart the deepest secrets of the world. They had no fears when they did not find her in the Crystarium--they would be remiss to think her feet would stay in one place. Ever would their steps find their way back to her. Their most dearest friend.

“Eyrie…?” She prompts gently, squeezing their hands.

“Shtola,” they reply softly, letting out the breath they had been holding.

“A steadfast friend you have always been to me. Always have you been honest, and carried your best intentions for me close to your heart. Ever have I placed my trust in your knowledge, your level headedness, and your heart—that most of all. You know me far too well.” They say quietly, running a thumb across the back of her hand again.

“Do not think unkindly of me for asking, as I ask out of trust. But should the worst come to pass--”

“Eyrie.” She cuts them off, their name firm in her tone and her gaze heavy. Hands clenching tight around theirs. “I know what you ask, and what you ask is difficult of me--beyond words.”

“But not impossible.”

“'Tis not that simple. Even if you ask, to forsake you, much less by my own hand--”

“I do not wish to suffer.” They cut her off. “For my own selfish sake. I do not wish to harm those whom I care for. Those whom I love. Please..."

She looks away and they watch her still, her hands still clasped in theirs as she closes her eyes. More words sit unspoken behind their teeth--held on the tip of their tongue. There is no one else whom they would trust to see this until the end--to see them to the end, should the worst come to pass. Ever the pragmatist, ever since they sat together overlooking the bustle of Limsa and she spoke of the deeper issues haunting the beast tribes of La Noscea. She would not be blind, not to the sins of man, nor of the Ascians who so carefully exploited man's weakness.

She would understand, even if it costed of her her heart, and her treasured friend--she would have to to understand.

Her eyes open and she looks up at them--resignation and a burden behind her eyes. One they so carefully placed in her hands and wrapped her fingers around to keep close to her heart.

"If...the worst should come to pass, I will do as you ask, Eyrie." She admits softly. "But I shall endeavor beyond all hope to not see that come to pass. You have my word."

"Thank you..." They reply just as quietly, letting go of her hands and they cup her face just barely, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. They feel her hands rest on their waist before she gives up--wrapping her arms around them. They wrap their arms around her shoulders in turn, holding her close. Resting their cheek in her hair, she squeezes them tightly.

"You will not be giving up." She tells them fiercely, and they can't help but scoff.

"Perish the mere thought of such a thing. Who would I be to give up?"

"A poor friend is what." She bites back and they laugh, letting her go as she steps away, steeling herself once more. "Now there's business that needs doing."

[the-hawkeyes]

Katie couldn't wait until they got somewhere a little more private to start holding her girlfriend. Shtola beared it, however, feeling the warmth in Katie's hug and just how much she missed her. And conceded that, yes, she missed Katie just as much.

[nhaneh]

Y'shtola has two hands.

borrowed @wildstar25's Arsay Nun to help demonstrate this.

[sinnerbeam]

Sometimes its important to draw something that is SO self indulgent.

Okay but, I reckon Y'shtola eventually starts letting people help her, especially in regards to her eyesight. She can turn off her magic shinigami eyes and take a break while WOL reads her books to her.

(he/him wol)

[driftward]

Title: Begin again Characters: Zoissette Vauban, Y'shtola Rhul Rating: Teen Summary: Zoissette feels the need to be honest after a difficult night Notes: Companion after piece to Icemelt

Zoissette woke up in the Baldesion Annex.

It was morning, judging by the light coming through the doorway leading out to the balcony. And that matched her own tendencies. Long habits of a knight meant that no matter how late she went to sleep, she tended to wake up early in the morning to make a muster that she would probably never be called for again. But the habit was set, and it was well, as she found it useful.

It meant she was awake before many, and that gave her some quiet time to herself most mornings.

She cleaned herself up and got dressed. As she was tying the bow that would adorn her hair for the day, she looked at herself in the mirror. She was nothing to look at, but she had made her peace with that some time ago. Today something besides how she would look to the world was on her mind.

The words Y'shtola had said the day before came back to her. And then the tears and the hurt, and then the relief, and the tiredness, and how her friends all came together to support her. Though support her for what, she could not say. She still did not understand why she had so thoroughly come apart.

But she felt better about it today. Calmer. She was back in control, and could face the new day.

It was not long until she was out in the kitchens, preparing a simple breakfast. She did not know who would be around at this hour, but made enough for several people anyroad. She was a knight, after all, and she chose to cook like one this morn. That way, anything that was not eaten would keep and could be turned into rations.

As she cooked, she heard someone at the door, and looked up to see Y'shtola.

"Well," said Y'shtola. "I see you still retain that habit of being an early riser. I hope you slept well, despite that."

"I did," said Zoissette. "I am a little surprised to see you up this early."

"I set a spell to wake me up that I might check on you."

Zoissette turned red.

"Before you protest, 'tis no trouble I was not willing to endure."

She did not respond, but kept cooking.

"...do you want breakfast?" asked Zoissette.

Y'shtola accepted the offer, and Zoissette made sure to adjust her cooking for Y'shtola's preferences. The rest of the morning passed companionably between the two. Neither of them talked about Zoissette's episode the evening before, for which she was secretly grateful. Y'shtola did note that she wanted to follow up on Krile's examinations into Zoissette's health, which she reluctantly agreed to. The rest of their conversation was light, touching on plans for the upcoming trip, and approaches to research for the same.

At last, breakfast was over, the dishes were put away, and Zoissette and Y'shtola were enjoying cups of after breakfast tea. A peaceful lull came to pass, which could have been passed in companionable silence.

However, an old feeling had slowly been creeping up on Zoissette. She had gotten over her initial embarrassment, and now the familiar fear had been creeping in. She kept glancing over at Y'shtola, all grace and good manners and utter confidence. She found the other woman intimidating, to be frank. Imposing. A force of will upon the star that had left many whirling in its wake.

She could feel the heat of it filling up her breast, could practically hear the hammer of her heart, the rush of blood in her ears. But after last night, after the kind things Y'shtola had said, after the way she had come through for her. Zoissette owed it to her to say something. Owed it to both of them, really, especially if they were going to be working together.

And she was no stranger to fears. She had faced dragons in war, and primals and kami and other such words for other people's gods. Which is to say, her belief had met the beliefs of others, and her conviction and determination had seen her through. She could do this. She could speak her truth to an old friend.

It was time to screw up her courage and face her fear.

"Y'shtola... you said something last night. Just before - just before I lost myself. About ... what you see when you look at me."

Y'shtola stirred her tea, her expression unreadable as she looked over at Zoissette. Her ears were forward, though, which was promising.

"I wanted to say.. thank you. It feels like you said something true about me there. And... I want to say something true about you as well."

"'Tis hardly necessary."

"Is it not?"

Y'shtola closed her eyes and sipped her tea, and Zoissette sat and waited. She could be patient. She must.

"Well, then. Whatsoever is on your mind."

"You said... that whenever you look at me, you see curiosity, and openness, and Light. And other words aside that I do not think I will ever forget. But... and forgive me, I do not have the same talent for words that you do, but... when I look at you, Y'shtola, I see, well, you. A strong woman. A courageous woman. A woman who - well, I see someone who knows themself. I have long admired you. You have the convictions to stand up to power. And you are smart, really smart. You have learned so much, and you keep learning more. A lot of people, they eventually just settle with what they know, but not you. Never you. And ... you mentioned your cynicism. I do not think it is cynicism, not really. I just think that you are, like you said, very honest. You can be blunt sometimes, but it is never to harm, but to enlighten. And I appreciate that about you. I can find people hard to understand, but you are always honest and straightforward with me. And I appreciate that a lot. Others may not like that, but I do. And despite how you feel, I find a... a warmth in you that is comforting. And ... and it was hard for me to hear that you were envious for me. For I have long admired you.

"...honestly, I think I want to be you, a little bit. I am sorry to have been gone for so long. I am... glad to be here. And despite last night, I want to stay here, and keep working with you, if you are willing to let me. I want to stay on as your research assistant, for as long as you would have me."

She felt her words peter out. She was staring down at her tea by the time she had finished talking, forcing herself to not let the tension in her fingers travel into the teacup and break it by accident. The fear reached a crescendo, gripping her heart, her breath suspended by tension cables.

She glanced up at Y'shtola to see her smiling.

"Well, do not be ridiculous," she said. "For if you were me, you would not be you. And I rather value that."

Somehow it was the perfect thing to say. The tension broke, and Zoissette felt her insides turn to splashy liquid as the stress she had been holding all flowed away.

Her hands relaxed around the teacup, and she felt herself sit up a little straighter, and she felt her confidence return.

She smiled at Y'shtola.

"And I am glad to have you back. I want you here. You are welcome to remain as my fellow researcher, for as long as you are willing to stay."

Zoissette took a long breath in, and let it out slow, and nodded.

Y'shtola smiled back at her.

"Thank you, my friend," she said. "If you are up to it, then, perhaps we should get on with it."

"Yes, of course," said Zoissette. "To work, then?"

"Quite so," said Y'shtola. "Right after I examine you once more. I am not at all confident you are yet fully recovered from your contest with the Fury."

Zoissette grimaced, but nodded. And it was not long before the kitchen had been cleaned, preparations made, and the two women went on to begin their work, together.

[tenuuchlegch]

"You have a beautiful voice." from y'shtola.

Compliment a Bard!

❃ "Eh, there is improvement to be had," Odtsetseg responded to the miqo'te.

- Eorzea certainly was not lacking in oddities, for the archer-now-turned bard. If she was told song could be utilized in battle nearly a year ago, au ra would have not hesitated to lable them borderline ridiculous. Of course, her culture had its own music and she could not deny that the beat from drums roused spirits into a fighting stance like nothing else. But to be implemented through an archer, with an instrument wholly unfamiliar for auri? Twas something which foreigner required time to adjust towards. Fortuitously, xaela had some experience with singing and playing a particular instrument which just so happened to be the only thing left intact from Hotgo's demise. Lowering the bow of her morin khuur, she leaned against it casually.

- It was clear that these individuals from Costa del sol were making au ra perform menial tasks they could do themselves, to what end steppe-dweller could only speculate. While auri would not claim to have much reason in staying alive these days, even SHE was getting slightly fed up with preparing for this master what's-his-face's shindig. Thus defiantly did she seek an opportunity to frustrate employers, by stalling under a guise of taking some time in practicing her recently acquired job. Twould only be fair that xaela returned the annoyance they inflicted on her, she surmised.

- The song she practiced was a simple, but calming one. A tune expressed in auri tongue, for that was the version she knew best. Additionally, she deduced less people would display interest in it because of language barrier. The miqo'te however proved to be a shrewd one and that had instantly earned au ra's respect. Still, a compliment genuine was due for gratitude, as a clean mind warranted fate to be good. Looking at the waves rolling on shore, she then continued.

- "Regardless... thank you, I guess." Gods, she was not used to receiving appraises.

[wundergeek]

Pre-Endwalker G'raha is my favorite wholesome dumbass.

FUCK I love FFXIV's writing. The writers seriously made me go from full on ugly crying about Exarch G'raha's death, then turned on a fucking dime to having me absolutely cackling at dumbass Mi'quote boyfriend's stupidity.

Like, first of all. G'raha's introduction as a Scion, where the writers just fully drag G'raha for filth.

"Oh hey, Scions. I know I was directly responsible for averting a timeline in which all of you, including the WoL died, by helping to save two fucking worlds, but I dunno. Are you sure I'm cool enough to be in your club?"

Honestly, "G'raha, really" is far too mild a response. Like.

G'raha. My dude. My guy. My sibling in Hydaelyn. I say this with all the love in the world, but stop being fucking delusional.

The dumbassery continues IMMEDIATELY upon starting 5.4, when G'raha stresses privately to you that 'what if he was too casual in his greeting'. You know, like, 'what if they don't know I respect them sooooo much' or whatever.

Yeah. Okay. Can you stop being fucking adorable for a minute and come to this meeting?

When Lyse shows up, G'raha fanboys to himself about meeting Lyse fucking Hext. And when Alphinaud has the audacity to remind G'raha that he was FUCKING INSTRUMENTAL to that whole "saving The First" thing y'all just finished doing, you can practically watch his soul leave his body.

And look. As someone who feels almost physical pain when I am praised in front of other people, it's probably hypocritical to enjoy his suffering so much. But I do. I really do.

And yet, despite his constant hero-worship of the other Scions - which he is now a member of - and his complete and total inability to hide his feelings about anything, he's somehow shocked. SHOCKED. When Y'shtola is like, bro go spend time with your hero, it's fine.

Hero? Oh. Uh. No, it's just. I mean, I literally died for them. And I give them big calf-eyes whenever they're around. And I follow them around like an adorable house cat with their favorite human, but. I mean. I'm just trying to be useful.

Reader, I love him.

[wildstar25]

When their summoner's away, the carbuncle will play 🤭

[moonlitvesper]

dont be sad. y'shtola reading a book. okay?

[shionxion]

Okay, I'm done with Thancred, Urianger and Estinien! I was trying very hard not to laugh too much. Why do I find these portraits and outfits so funny? So very dad-like lol! (Well, at least for Thancred and Urianger) Ryne would be proud! XD (Also, look at Urianger's earrings!) Okay, last but certainly not least, it is time to level Y'shtola and Krile.

Wow, now I gotta pay more attention to these runs because I'm gonna be tanking. G'raha will be healing, I guess. Mainly because I forgot to take a screenshot of his new glamour when he's not tanking.

[tritoch]

the witch of the cave: matoya, y'shtola, and the night's blessed

long rambly and extremely unedited post about y'shtola and matoya, two characters i really feel like we don't talk about or take seriously enough. i think the popular (and in many ways intended) perception of FFXIV as a game about dramatic high-tension moments and attendant emotional catharsis makes it easy to overlook the fact that there's plenty of subtext to mine from, especially for characters like these two who can come off as somewhat reserved and also have very little screen time together. i find the night's blessed very helpful for thinking about them both. spoilers through endwalker below. tl;dr version of the post can be found by reading the bolded text below.

on my first playthrough the whole rak'tika thing felt very underdeveloped, and i still think a lot of the story beats are weak. here's y'shtola she's your last member to rejoin she has a new village now(?) and OH she's dead again WAIT she's back and then we're off into "zodiark and hydaelyn are primals" land and there's no time to think anymore about the night's blessed. but on reflection i think this works out okay imo because the night's blessed are only just barely there for plot reasons. they serve instead, like the outfit redesign, to establish the game's new baseline concept for who y'shtola is going to be as a character going forward. the night's blessed let the writing shorthand a lot of y'shtola's off-screen development and set her up as a powerful and extremely self-actualized person, using matoya as her foil.

in brief: matoya is implied to have lived her life prior to the sharlayan exodus constantly at odds with the (imo obviously sexist and hide-bound) forum. as a result, she was pretty isolated from and in conflict with much of sharlayan society, to the point that while y'shtola leaves with everyone else in the exodus to presumably matriculate at the studium and earn her archon's marks, matoya stays behind, with no company but her familiars.

and this is agonizingly sad, i think. 15 years alone in a cave. dravania's isolation means she has no one to talk to but frogs she has magic'ed and trained into familiars. little to occupy her but her work and her memories, and her memories of y'shtola are so painful to her she locks them away. even when y'shtola returns to eorzea after ten years away she can't find the time to see her until the scion's issues demand it (to be fair to y'shtola, getting to matoya overland means traveling through ishgard and dravania, and prior to the calamity they're totally occupied with that and afterwards there's the whole dragon thing).

(hey also this whole thing is even SADDER when read in light of the encyclopedia eorzea text that "the day [Matoya] begins to remember her students fondly will be the day that her work ends." she won't let herself take these memories back until she retires!)

they barely talk at their reunion, and while there's some brief honest fondness from matoya early on they soon turn to their characteristic deflecting and sardonic back-and-forth for what little time they get to talk, before matoya delivers a poorly-translated and confusing warning on aethersight and exits the 3.0 story. even by the time of shadowbringers, y'shtola can't bring herself to admit that when alone in a foreign land, she took on her master's name, and neither will straightforwardly admit to missing the other. in a game full of effusive and warm relationships between master and pupil or guardian and ward, matoya and y'shtola's relationship is warm, but specifically characterized by distance and deflection, consistent with how matoya has rejected (and/or isolated herself from) others her whole life.

that's not to say there's not love there, obviously, and not all expressions of love look or the same. but this is not how y'shtola behaves elsewhere. when she visits you at the annex in endwalker, she's quite sincere and direct there, coming to you with her concerns and stating plainly that doesn't want to see you harmed, making it clear she was actively worried about how you were doing. she even pre-emptively apologizes when she fears she's inappropriately joked about your misfortunes. she's also obviously much more direct and deflects less with the night's blessed themselves, or runar, or urianger after rak'tika, or zero. she can be funny or glib or arch, but she makes no effort to conceal how much these relationships mean to her, or how she feels at any given point.

y'shtola can be sharp, she can be sarcastic, she can go for the throat or be dismissive and imperious, but she's generally not those things with people she cares about in private conversation. for a woman who makes it quite clear that she cares a lot about the image she projects to others, she is never ashamed of her own feelings or afraid to voice them, but neither is she harsh or cruel. the one time she does the matoya-style thing of being so honest and brusque it tips over to backbreakingly blunt, it's to thancred in rak'tika, over her concerns that as the sole guardian of an isolated young ward, he isn't doing enough to affirm her as her own person or to be emotionally honest and supportive of her. i have some thoughts as to why that might be; you may be able to guess what they are!

so shadowbringers sets up a parallel for the player: remember matoya in the cave, having spurned sharlayan politics, left to pursue her research and guard the antitower, a solitary hermit for fifteen years? well here's y'shtola as matoya, in a cave, having spurned the lies and half-truths of two specific sharlayan men. she initially comes off alternately distant and brusque, unable to recognize you and perhaps changed herself. the fact that y'shtola's not just the local cave witch to the night's blessed ends up being a sort of narrative reveal, and her characterization as a beloved and respected leader who feels a deep attachment to the community in turn shows how much she's grown and surpassed her mentor. (and note in turn urianger, over there in fairyland pretty much actually doing the matoya thing except, in accordance with his whole deal, in a way that is both slightly healthier and much weirder).

and there's narrative payoff for this: y'shtola, having been fairly closed-off and mission-focused up until now, flings herself into a fucking pit and casts "hope this doesn't kill me lmao" the very second she learns the night's blessed have been harmed and she has a chance to save them (and that's not a romance thing; she has no idea runar's been harmed. she only knows the villagers of slitherbough have been poisoned, and an antidote exists). and from her (annoyingly obviously fake) death you learn that she isn't just valued and respected by the community, but has formed close enough relationships for people to feel real and deep attachment to her.

y'shtola notes at several points that she and master matoya dedicated their lives to the pursuit of truth above all else. but in the end y'shtola was also a student of louisoix, a man who far valued compassion for the plight of others above all else (and, not for nothing, he's not exactly #1 parent/guardian/mentor of the astral era either). in rak'tika, all the finest qualities of y'shtola reach a kind of culmination. the relentless pursuit of what is true and what is right, but as part of a healthy, caring community, without the isolating and painful pride of her mentor. and she sacrifices nothing of herself to attain this. she is exactly who she was before rak'tika, if anything a little more brusque. she's even still a little withholding about herself, noting that she cultivated an "image of restraint" among the night's blessed. but none of this interferes with her ability to be a powerful and respected and admired leader of a close-knit community.

and again none of this is really a critique of matoya, who i have enormous affection for as effectively the game's only representation (until endwalker) of an older woman in STEM. but she is a product of what her circumstances allowed: where matoya, as a sincere believer in truth, had only rivals in a deeply conservative and isolationist society, y'shtola, carrying forward the same principles, has friends and comrades in an increasingly open and free world. she turns her mentor's unflinching honesty from an alienating political weakness into a pillar of both slitherbough and the scions. matoya's self-imposed exile from sharlayan is, by her own acknowledgement, petty and in some ways goes against her own values. and listen you've gotten far enough in this rambling, we can all be real for a second: matoya is definitely kind of an asshole and went into self-imposed exile and sealed up her research because of a disagreement with the Forum over weapons development. y'shtola's leveraging the integrity and searing honesty she learned from matoya to far more altruistic ends!

i think a lot of players have a vision of y'shtola somewhere on a continuum from badass avatar of destruction to powerful and solitary archmage. and i agree that's cool as hell but i also think ffxiv is a game that believes, at its core, that community is one of the most important things in the world, both in terms of what it can do for a flourishing society and as a critical element for people to find value and fulfillment in their own lives. y'shtola developing her own close attachment to a community in shadowbringers is meant to serve as shorthand for how she has come into her own as a person and found a fulfilling and meaningful life in line with her ideals, living up to matoya's ideal of all knowledge existing to advance mankind. it is no coincidence that this happens at the same time as she goes from "a pretty good mage" to being consistently portrayed as one of the more powerful mages in the setting and the scions' magical powerhouse. the genre trappings and the character arc work in harmony.

i think what this means becomes a little clearer set against characters like thancred (who spends 5.0 getting to "can have a mostly emotionally honest conversation with his surrogate daughter and make her feel loved and valued") and estinien (who, after twenty years living in and dying for one walled city, had one of the worst months anyone has ever had and ever since can't be in the same place for more than two seconds). their permanent states as vagabonds reflect their lack of close ties (what with all the tragic death) and still-healing emotional wounds. by contrast, y'shtola has achieved the wisdom and grace to live life as part of a connected whole, and has found a way to bring her values to bear in all parts of her life and in her leadership of this community, in so doing improving the lives of herself and everyone around her. y'shtola doesn't settle down with the night's blessed as a natural progression of her life or as a precondition to her maturation, but instead is capable of forming this kind of attachment to the night's blessed precisely because she has developed the integrity and emotional honesty to live in accordance with her values. and she can cast LB3 meteor in cutscenes now.

and also, conveniently, this is done in a way that lets them shorthand/off-screen a lot of this arc and do the rest of it with very minimal screentime for y'shtola and it has an associated romance subplot and also conveniently she's immediately severed from this important community so she can stay footlose and fancy-free in the protagonist group and Isn't It Funny How Scion Women Settle Down Or Die While We Keep Accumulating Permanent Bachelors, I Just Think It's Funny. obviously none of this is above critique. but i think the narrative takes pretty seriously the idea that y'shtola is actually the team's most emotionally developed and mature member in a lot of ways and slitherbough is where a lot of that starts, and you can't understand all that without matoya.

[kannedia]

Putting under read-more as the picture is big.

the bingo grand prize is waiting 3-5 years for cori to realize they like your wol