#after Lyse is gone

[jaskierx]

Every time I see some Taika slander on this app, I block. And I don’t even care about him because I have no clue how he is in real life, but I have enough of the bullshit. Taika is a Zionist? Block. Taika’s fault for whatever-pick-anything? Block. Taika is an evil man? Block. Taika doesn’t do enough to promote ofmd? Block. Taika did this and that in his private life? One, how the fuck would you know, random person who lives in Germany? Keep your nose out of his goddamn business. Second. BLOCK. Let’s celebrate Taika’s shows ending one after the other? You guessed it. Block. Someone literally said Taika’s ancestors are rolling in their grave in shame. Bloooocccckkkkk.

I have no words, this is vile. And this public character assassination has gone on for way too long, from medias and randos on the internet alike.

Those people who gloat and say the most horrendous things need to get off their moral high horse, clean in front of their doorstep and go outside to touch some grass. I don’t know why they’re so spiteful but they need to heal their soul. They’re keyboard activists that are looking for trends to be mad about so they can pretend to care and be morally superior. And then they can harass others. They don’t care and they can’t fool me and they can fuck off. Blockity block block block.

God… I got heated real quick. Sorry about that. But for real, I hope he stays the hell away from social media.

yeah i've blocked literally dozens of people in the last 30ish hours and the vast majority are people who have never watched ofmd who decided to go into the tag and post about how happy they are that the 'racist tv show' that's 'run by zionists' is cancelled and 'the zionists' are now 'unemployed'. or people who are casual fans of ofmd who were like 'meh s2 was bad and you could tell taika was bored of it'

it's just so fucking stupid. i hate this whole mentality that people are either 100% perfect and morally pure or they're evil and every bad thing that happens to them should be celebrated. i hate that people are so desperate to blame taika when the show wouldn't fucking exist without him. i hate that people are so confidently stating shit like 'david should've known taika couldn't commit for 3 seasons' like fuck that parasocial ass shit you don't know any of these people! imagine if it was the other way around and the cast started posting shit on twitter like 'lol lyse jaskierx should lose her job bc i can tell she's bored of spreadsheets'. it's ridiculous

[faythian]

Discourse on Lyse Hext

This screencap popped up for a background on my computer today, and it got me thinking about the discourse surrounding Lyse Hext. I do not think she deserves any of the hate/spite sent her way. My thoughts below (long post below cutoff):

Lyse comes from Ala Gannha. She was five years old when Curtis Hext, her father, bundled her and her sister, Yda, up and left. They went to Sharlayan, probably the colony in Dravania. Yda became an Archon; Lyse idolized her sister.

Papalymo was the one who had to tell a young Lyse that her sister and father were dead. To cope, she took on the identity of Yda. She lived as Yda for five or six years. She was always paired with Papalymo, who became a surrogate father for her. He is shown multiple times lecturing her, admonishing, and guiding her. While he knows it’s not a healthy coping mechanism, he still went along with her request to assume Yda’s identity and work. Or as much as she was able.

Then she lost Papalymo.

She decided to reclaim her identity of Lyse, but she didn’t have much of an identity to reclaim at the time. She needed to untangle herself from Yda, but did not get the time (either because she was thrust into the push to liberate Ala Mhigo, or because she herself would not give time for such a delicate task).

She is understandably shocked by her reception in Ala Gannha. She grew up fairly sheltered after the trauma of the uprising against King Theodoric, leaving at a young age, being a refugee, and then settling in a foreign land. Lyse still saw Ala Mhigo as her home, despite growing up in Sharlayan and not truly understanding what was going on in Gyr Albania. She was blinded and made naive by her father’s legacy as a hero of the Resistance.

The Legacy of Curtis will haunt her for a while.

She tries desperately to understand what those who stayed behind have gone through, trying to draw on what she knew best: Yda’s personality. Lyse does not start to truly come into her own until she leaves for Doma. There, she has no legacy to live up to. She also finds a friend and mentor: Hien. Hien is the same age as her but was brought up knowing who and what he was meant to be. If one watches carefully, while in Doma, Lyse is watching and taking note of Hien’s moves politically. She is also watching Yuuguri. Yuuguri knows the villages and their people, unlike Lyse back in Gyr Albania.

While we get to see some fantastic character development of her, it’s all in the background, as the Doman part of Stormblood is focused on Hien, Yuuguri, and freeing Doma. Unfortunately, upon returning to Gyr Albania, Lyse is still trying tactics that aren’t her own and trying to live up to other people's expectations and identities. She is not using what she learned in the way Lyse would use them; she is trying to do what Hien or Yuuguri would do, or how she feels her father might have used these ideas. She still hasn’t truly found her own voice yet.

When Conrad dies, he named Lyse the new leader of the Resistance. M’naggo accepts this, seemingly readily. Most people see this as a nepotistic move, and it is, but it’s also more. M’naggo, I feel, accepts this because she sees what Lyse represents to the Resistance—Curtis’ dreams and ideals.

His legacy.

Lyse now has the added burden of not only living up to her father’s image, but now his ideals and goals. We do see some of her struggles as she tries to lead the Resistance, a lot of that being how heavily she leans on the Scions and the Warrior of Light for help.

The game does a disservice to Lyse by not letting us see this struggle fully. All we get are snippets from which we then must infer what she is going through. She is a legacy without understanding and being given very little support from those she is meant to inspire and lead.

There were golden opportunities for others to truly assist her in discovering her own voice:

Urianger, who understood intimately how the shadow of one’s betters can cloud a person’s path and self perception;

Y’shtola would have been a fantastic mentor due to her more pragmatic view of the whole situation;

Conrad should have been more of a presence for her as he had local knowledge as well as historical knowledge (i.e.: Curtis’ actual goals);

and even Raubahn should have been there (and behind the scenes might have been) as he also knew Curtis, the Resistance, and what they were all up against, in addition to what it means to be a leader of a nation.

Instead, she was allowed to become a symbol of something she didn’t fully understand and set out on the balcony to wave and smile.

By the end of the main plot, she is seen as a leader, and she does show many traits of a good leader just coming into her own. But we are not truly shown her journey to this point. Lyse is just suddenly Leader.

The writing for her was fairly terrible. The lack of attention paid to her character and character growth throughout Stormblood was, at best, disappointing, and at worst appalling. We get to see Alphinaud’s continued journey, we get to see Hien and Yuuguri’s journey, we even get to see Fordola’s journey, but not much of the trials and tribulations of the character SquareEnix seemed to call the Main Character (if the posters and official art are to be considered).

As I write my narration of a couple of my own characters going through the MSQ, I will be visiting Lyse a number of times during this expansion and putting in those scenes that I feel are needed. I will be giving her mentors.

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

on our fates alight--safe harbor (1)

It had been Halone that had awoken in Mathye's body that morning. Her first instinct had been to reach for her Dominant--panicked that something had gone wrong, perhaps they'd fallen into a Mitsirugi trap--

But she was met instead with her Second Dominant still in deep slumber. Mathye had not quite fully mentally recovered from the retaking of Doma Castle and the night that had followed. Relieved, Halone had decided to try and sleep as well, but Mathye's body wasn't cooperating fully. Deciding that her time would be better well spent getting perhaps a bit of exercise--and maybe exhaust the mortal form enough that more rest would be needed--Halone had dressed and headed outside the guesthouse.

The underground scenery of Reisen Temple greeted her eyes as she made her way to the main grounds. A preternatural quiet hung over the grounds, intermingled with the magics of different elements. The smell of incense drifted through the air, and Halone closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. Despite the buildings' ramshackle state, there was a purity, a calmness to the entire area that was soothing. An oasis of peace, a haven away from the chaos of the outside world.

"Sister of Ice." Halone's eyes snapped open. She'd wandered close to Byakko. "You have control?"

"Mathye is exhausted, and I woke up like this." Halone replied. "We have an agreement--he and Augustine do not mind if I posses their bodies. They've encouraged me to do so, and I...find it pleasant to be able to walk in a mortal form." Carefully the goddess bowed to Byakko, being mindful of the injuries Mathye still had.

"Thank you for taking us in." She said. "I apologize for the trouble we have brought to your doorstep."

"Think nothing of it." Byakko rumbled. "We are glad to offer aid to our fellow siblings. And it is good that one of you is awake, for we have news from Kugane. Your sister and her allies are safe and sound, and are currently on a ship bound for Eorzea." Halone's head popped up at the news, eyes wide. A sigh of relief escaped her.

"Thank everything." She breathed. The escape plan from Doma had involved breaking the group into two. It had been decided that Riven, Lyse, and Alisaie would be the first ones to leave--with the others following on their tail shortly after. But potions and magical healing could only do so much--and the second group had been forced to stopover in Reisen. Riven's strength had given out in Kugane, forcing Lyse and Alisaie to care for her while travel arrangements were changed.

"Soroban is currently arranging your departure with someone named Hancock. If the Empire didn't have such a stranglehold on the paths of air, we could get you onto an airship to fly home."

"Lord Byakko, if it allows us our freedom we will not be complaining about the means of transport." Halone answered. "I will be loath to leave this place however. It is..." She paused, considering her words. "Pleasant, to both the mind and the body."

"You are more than welcome to visit any time you like." Byakko answered. "In fact, I insist upon it, once you have concluded your business with the Empire." He watched as Mathye's face became hooded at mention of the imperials, Halone's gaze flicking away from the white tiger.

"Something troubles you about this, war-sister?"

"...Yes." Halone admitted. She was on holy ground-unfamiliar to boot. It was not wise to lie in sacred spaces, especially if they were not your own. "The actions of the Garlean prince concern me. Or rather...his lack of them."

"In what way?" Byakko asked, intrigued.

"We have been told of a bloodthirsty solider, one who is peerless in tactics and combat. The latter I can personally attest for, but the former...I have seen very little of." Whispers of the renewed Ala Mhigan front against the Empire had reached Halone's ears, and she had greedily devoured any scrap of information that the group had been able to get their hands on in Doma. There had been Riven and Yugiri's failed attempt at an assassination, but the story of that encounter had left Halone with an unsettled feeling.

I thought at first after our defeat, it was contempt I sensed. But now I wonder...

"Perhaps he is biding his time." Byakko offered. "This defeat is still fresh, and was certainly unanticipated."

"And I am considering that." Halone responded. "It is just..." She paused, gathering her words. How best to say it?

"...It is true that there is joy in battle." She began. "It is true that it gives one a purpose. Meaning. But war is not meant to embody...everything. There are other aspects to life that should be embraced and cherished. With the Garlean Crown prince, it seems as if he finds the act of war...boring. That he is not fully engaging as he supposedly did in the past, instead allowing his troops to dictate actions and make capital mistakes that result in losses for his side. And when he does decide to fight, he embraces the excesses of it." Violence for the sake of violence, bloodshed for pleasure, fear for the delight of it. Halone's thoughts flicked briefly to Odin and Sebastian.

"Bored." Byakko repeated. A low purr rumbled from his body as he considered Halone's words. "It could well be that. You and yours are the only ones who have had the spirit to keep defying the Empire, no matter the setbacks. He probably has lacked for a proper opponent, and has atrophied in some areas."

"Perhaps." Halone mummured. Maybe I have expected too much. Battle had been honed to an art form in Ishgard, with many demanding nothing less than perfection of themselves when they fought in her name. Her greater self had been constantly spoiled for choice amongst Ishgard's most elite warriors, and were the heavens of the Twelve set differently, Halone would have commanded a most formidable army. Faintly Halone could feel a stir in the back of her thoughts, Mathye was beginning to waken.

"I sense your Dominant." Byakko was of the same mind. "Take some ease, battle-sister. Shall I have food and drink delivered?"

"Please and thank you." Halone responded. Bowing again, she headed for a nearby bench.

[tallbluelady]

I made a polycule chart for modern AU because I'm that kind of person. Deets under the cut.

-Urianger, Moenbryda, and Thancred were all in a polycule during college. Moen and Thancred were ready to graduate and move on with their lives while Urianger wanted to continue school. Both got jobs that would require them to travel, and they decide to break it off so it would be less complicated for new relationships to start.

-Rowan and Lyse were college roommates and became best friends quickly. Lyse was close to Moen (and therefore knew Urianger) growing up, and she introduces Rowan to Urianger when she wants to try writing a bardcore cover.

-Rowan and Urianger hit it off and start seriously dating. 

-Thancred learns that Minfilia was raising Ryne by herself in the middle of nowhere and drops everything to convince her to move back to town with him. More Full House or Sister-Sister than anything romantic between them. (I haven't decided Ryne's parentage, but Minfilia absolutely the one raising her.)

-Moen has a break in her job for a few months and comes back to town. She reconnects with Lyse at first and they decide to have an open relationship.

-Seeing as everyone is back in town, Urianger asks Rowan what she thinks about polyamory in general and she's willing to try after hearing about Moen from both Urianger and Lyse.

-Rowan and Moen hit it off, and Thancred reconnects in a more casual manner.

-Moenbryda still travels for work and is super grateful that Rowan will be there for Urianger when she's gone.

[alicesadventuresinffxiv]

FFxivWrite2024 Prompt #24

Title: Plans Hatched Behind Bars

Wordcount: 1086

Spoilers through: Stormblood

Alternate Universe: To Catch a Falling Star

Relationships & Characters: Fordola/Lyse, Conrad

Summary: A lucky chance affords Lyse and Conrad another opening to escape - at the cost of Fordola’s life. Lyse comes up with a different idea instead.

(Been wanting to write this scene for a while, and this seemed like the right prompt for it! This takes place after my entry for prompt #12, and basically sets up the plot for the rest of the AU.)

.

“Pretty neat, huh?” After unlocking Conrad’s cell, Lyse returned to her own, and nodded to the blissfully dreaming imperial commander within. Fordola had made the mistake of letting her guard down around Lyse, and this was the prompt result. “Doesn’t seem she’ll be waking up any time soon, so we’ve got time to plan our escape!”

The grizzled old apothecary frowned and knelt down to examine Lyse’s handiwork. “Aye, you can say that again. She won’t be waking up at all, after this.”

“What?!” Lyse’s eyes widened. “But she can’t be dead! I didn’t hit her that hard!”

“Oh, it’s none of your doing, lass. It’s the poison what’ll do her in.” Conrad shifted to the side, allowing Lyse to take a closer look. “I’ve seen cases like this before. Folks poking around Bittermill, and they hit something rancid buried in the soil. Everything inside them slows down, and soon enough, even the heart stops.”

And indeed, on further inspection, Lyse could make out the sheen of sweat on the imperial’s brow and the pained rasp of her irregular breathing. “Bittermill… that’s where the Skulls were fighting…” From the conversation Lyse had overheard, one of their thaumaturge’s blasts had exposed a rusty canister in the ground that had quickly poisoned the air.

Unlike most high-ranking Garlean troops, Fordola lacked the intimidating gas-filtering mask. And she was the type of commander who fought right in the thick of battle alongside her men, too.

No wonder Lyse had been able to get the jump on her.

”She swallowed the poison the Garleans fed her, and now she’s dying of it,” Conrad said mournfully.

“I mean, from the sound of it, it was an accident.” 

Conrad sighed. “Sometimes, Lyse, it’s not about the little details, but the big ones.” He gave her an admonishing look that was an awful lot like one of Papalymo’s.  “About the story folks will tell after we’re gone. The story of what was once Ala Mhigo.”

That was all well and good, but Lyse had more important things to think about than giving up. “So… what do we do with her?”

Conrad thoughtfully gazed at the ceiling above. “You said the patrol upstairs passes every bell, wasn’t it?”

“Right.”

“Then we’ve another half bell to wait.” He settled back against the bars of the cell. “May as well stay at her side, I suppose. No Ala Mhigan deserves to die alone in the dark. Not even the Butcher.”

⁂

“Argh! This is ridiculous!” Lyse whispered furiously. Over the course of the half bell, she had gone from sitting, to restlessly exercising, to now gesticulating wildly as she paced around the cell.

Lyse had never been an especially patient person. Her muscles constantly ached to fight, to run, to do. Waiting quietly in the dark while watching as some helpless woman’s breathing grew slower and slower was pure agony!

“This isn’t what fighting for the revolution is supposed to be like! Ala Mhigans killing Ala Mhigans! Ala Mhigans just - just sitting around watching each other die!”

“I know, Lyse.” Conrad said softly. He had looked up from monitoring Fordola at Lyse’s outburst. “But there’s naught we can do.”

“Of course there is! There’s always something we can do!” Lyse clenched her fists. “There’s got to be - oh, I don’t know what it is exactly, but it looked like an infirmary upstairs. If we took her there now, they might be able to save her!”

“And then what?” Conrad’s voice was unusually harsh. Perhaps his silent vigil had been weighing on him too. “Give up our one chance of escape? For sake of the Butcher?” He frowned deeply. “No. The Resistance may be finished, but I’ll not simply roll over and let the imperials kill me in one of their godsforsaken camps.”

“You’re right…” Lyse’s face fell. “It wouldn’t be fair to you. You don’t have to come.” She looked down, let her hands sheepishly relax back to her sides. “You can escape, and I’ll take her as far as the infirmary and leave her there.”

“And what were you planning to do after, lass? I keep telling you. You’ve got to think things through.”

“I was getting there!” Lyse bit her lip. There was a plan forming in her mind, a good one, but how to put it into words?  “After that… I’ll come back here.”

“No. I’m not leaving you behind.” Conrad rose to his feet and beckoned her to the cell door. “I owe Curtis at least that.”

“That’s the whole problem!” Lyse suddenly burst out. “Stop it! Stop making everything about my father and my sister! I’m not them, and I don’t deserve what they deserved! You heard what happened in Ala Gannha. I barely understand the first thing about Ala Mhigo!”

“Lyse - “

“You said that Garlemald stole Ala Mhigo’s future by taking their youths. Well, then why aren’t we working to steal them back?” Lyse was back to making wild gestures. “The Resistance is finished without more Ala Mhigans?” She stabbed a finger back towards Fordola. “There’s your Ala Mhigan!”

“This isn’t a game, Lyse.” But Conrad cracked a tiny smile at her impassioned rant.

“I’m being serious! Look.” Lyse crossed her arms. “Nothing we’ve tried before has worked either, right? And - and Fordola seems to have some kind of a soft spot for me! So this is something only I can do.”

Not my father. Not my sister. Me. 

“It’s too risky.”

“I’ll have a back up plan!” Lyse countered, holding up and waving the keys she’d snagged from Fordola’s belt. “Hard to keep me behind bars when I’ve got these.”

Conrad let out a dry chuckle. “Well then. It’s nothing like what your sister would have done, that’s for sure.” He glanced down, shaking his head at the still form of the dying commander. “And to tell the truth… it’s what I want too, sentimental old fool that I am.”

“Then… you think I should give it a try?” Lyse’s expression brightened.

“Aye. There’s many in the Resistance what might’ve disagreed… but they’re gone now, same as the rest. So if your mind’s made up and you’ve got the courage for it, you’ve my full support.”

“I’ll get you an army again! You’ll see!”

“Right then, Hext. That’s your mission: come back with the Skulls. I’ll be waiting for you.”

Lyse threw an eager salute and watched as Conrad disappeared up the castrum stairs and into the night beyond.

It was the last time anyone saw Conrad Kemp alive.

[morocosmos]

FFXIVWrite 2024 Day 3 - Tempest

Masterlist Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Characters/Pairings: Alisaie Leveilleur & Warrior of Light(?) Rating: Teen & Up Additional Notes: Written on make-up Day 8. Follows after this fic, and this one.

Alisaie doesn’t know how late it is when she stirs, save that it is dark in the House of the Fierce. She’d woken abruptly, the dream responsible already forgotten, and now the thoughts of tomorrow’s battle keep her from sinking back into sleep. 

They fill her head with fear and worry: all they stand to gain from taking Doma Castle, and everything that could go wrong. Moro’a’s condition. Whatever’s wrong with him, it’s getting worse; she suppresses a shiver, thinking of the fury in his eyes as he’d challenged Zenos for the second time, white-hot and unrelenting in spite of numerous wounds. Like something trying to break free. 

Alisaie could no longer lie to herself, not when she’d seen it twice now. But where could she begin? She'd ask Krile or Y'shtola, but they're both in Gyr Abania, the former occupied and the latter incapacitated until further notice. Lyse has her own worries, and she doesn't want to burden her further.

“Marvellous,” she mutters, knowing that trying to go back to sleep is futile while she’s like this. Alphinaud is still peacefully asleep, which may be a small mercy, for the last thing she wants is to keep him awake, or worse, make him worry. A walk would settle her mind, keep her thoughts from running too far afield while she reigns them in. She needs to be prepared for tomorrow; she needs to be ready. She couldn't fail the Domans when this was their final chance at liberation.

Climbing out of her futon, she throws on her jacket and tiptoes out of the room, nodding at a handful of others as she passes them by. At least I’m not the only one who can’t sleep. She enters the main hall, where shafts of moonlight bathe the aetheryte in a gentle, glittering glow — just in time to see a shadow slink towards the corridor to her right.

The figure had moved too fast for an idle soldier, and it’s enough to set alarum bells off in Alisaie’s mind. As quietly as she can manage, she follows after, wishing she had her weapons. What if it was a Garlean infiltrator? An assassin she’d missed, presented with the perfect opportunity after they’d slipped from her grasp? 

When she catches sight of the stranger again, they’re halfway through the narrow corridor, already disappearing through the gap of an ajar door — into Moro’a’s room. No! The thought becomes a shout as Alisaie rushes forward and throws the door open. She anticipates a struggle, prepares herself to tackle whoever's trying to harm her friend. She should’ve brought her weapons—

But there is no assailant, no commotion. Only Moro’a himself, who stands with his back to the door. His fists are clenched so tight that they’re trembling, and his breaths are loud and shallow.

“...Moro’a?” She asks, trying not to let uncertainty colour her words. There’s no need to be afraid; it’s just him. “Are you alright?”

He ignores her, exhaling slowly as his posture straightens, and Alisaie bristles — she’s had enough of him avoiding her. She’s about to give him a piece of her mind when suddenly, he speaks.

“You’re the one who has been poking her errant nose around his business.” Moro’a’s voice is different. Sharp, like a honed blade. “Perhaps congratulations are in order. But to tell you the truth, ‘twas only a matter of time. His hold over me is slipping.”

Alisaie instinctively reaches for her rapier, only to remember that she is unarmed. Swallowing her fear, she opens her mouth again and says, “What are you talking about?”

“The night approaches. Soon, I will hold the cards.” Moro’a turns to face her, and what Alisaie sees freezes her in place. The Keeper’s eyes are yellow, bright enough that they seem to glow in the dark of the room. Gone is the calm assurance she knows him for, replaced by something deep and unknowable, cold and churning.

“Who are you?” she dares to ask. “What are you?” The first thing that comes to her mind is voidsent, and she considers calling for help. But Moro’a — or whatever the thing is that’s possessing him reaches forward, grabbing a fistful of her shirt.

“You ask what I am?” he snarls. Alisaie gasps as his eyes flash red, and the darkness seems to close around them, as though preparing to swallow her whole. “I am that which rose from the depths of his soul, here to do that which he cannot do for himself.”

“I am our protector. Our esteem. I am the tempest, the iron sea — and I will be heard!” Moro’a shoves her back, and fear finally overpowers Alisaie’s will, sending her scrambling out of the room and shutting the door with a slam. The wood is cold against her back as she slides down into a shaking heap.

No more skulking about. She has to tell someone.

[redwayfarers]

nika & romance

thinking abt that alia + romance thing @lavampira did and as it would seem that today is nika romance day (since it's all i can think about) so i'm taking inspo, i hope you don't mind <3

silvairre

minor crush back when he was in gridania. nothing truly exceptional. they're not really in contact anymore, although they bump shoulders sometimes.

minfilia

first love. when nika first joined the scions, he was largely aimless, aside from wanting new materials for his songs; minfilia gave him a sense of purpose, even if the key part - part where he too deeply cares for eorzea and does this out of selflessness - didn't really show up. they became friends, and eventually nika fell in love, though minfilia never really returned his feelings. instead, he was glad to simply serve wherever she sent him, and that was enough. her happiness was enough. unfortunately, by the end, nika started feeling used, yet nurtured his love for her for long enough to swallow his feelings on the matter.

his feelings may have even become more intense simply because he knew, deep down, that he had no chances with her. he never tried anything, never bothered her about it, it just floated unresolved for years before her death. she's still a sore spot, and he isn't really sure whether he will ever entirely finish grieving for her, even if he allows himself some measure of anger she left behind. but hey, what is grief if not love persevering? there is no world in which nika does not love minfilia, in whatever capacity.

lyse

a small crush that would have been if there wasn't artoirel. a love that would've gone very sour, very quickly. best left at a single hookup.

artoirel

another case of nika catching feelings for someone he can't, initially, have. nika's equal in a lot of respects; honest to a fault, not very nice, competent yet reserved. nika doesn't begrudge artoirel for trying to get him killed at first. there's a lot of ease in accepting each other, faults and good qualities, between them. artoirel, thus, began to feel like a certain safety. they bonded greatly over their shared love of music and their shared grief for haurchefant. artoirel doesn't ask anything of nika the same way minfilia did, nor does nika himself look for a superior, even though artoirel outranks him by far. to him, artoirel's rank isn't something that matters all that much, just as nika's status as the warrior of light doesn't matter to artoirel after a while.

instead, what they end up being for each other is a partner and an equal, because brothers doesn't quite cut it. it's the one place in this star where nika doesn't have to be the warrior of light, where he can simply be himself, and vice versa, where artoirel isn't the count de fortemps. they're just two guys of equal yet opposite vibes, and at some point, they allied to try and make sense of their respective lots in life. sense is nowhere in sight, but they're too bound together to undo that alliance now. at least they have each other's company on the road.

[asteriasfallingstarsandtears]

Obviously XIV gives us a point of reference for character clothing through the use of glamours. However, beyond that, how does your character dress? Are their fabrics they prefer (cotton over wool, satin, silk, etc), do they tailor their clothes a certain way or do they tend to dress in certain colours? Is fashion and clothing something they care about, or is it more for function? Do they know how to repair their clothes if they get holes? What about things like shoes and accessories?

Thanks for the question! I love answering stuff like this about Mina and Theia!

General:

It ultimately depends on where she is. She grew up in Garlemald so she is most likely wearing lighter clothing than everyone else weather wise, but she's also rather insistent on wearing some sort of armour where she can.

Cotton wouldn't have been part of her standard clothing before she was twenty, since it is not good for cold weather, wool was probably something she wore often under her armour and jackets.

When she ended up in Eorzea she had the nightmare of adapting to hot and temperate weather and often wore as light clothing as she could safely get away with.

In her adventures she is always wearing some form of light armour, likely leather or cermet plate (this is a real material used in body armour!) once Cid is able to get it imported/recovered, enough to protect her from basic injury but not too heavy she can't move freely.

Places she can't or doesn't need armour:

She does have a soft spot for dresses, they're usually too impractical for her to wear though. The softer the material the happier she is, because she likes to pet it, so velvet and silk are her favourite indulgences that she rarely allows herself to have. Usually these fabrics are saved for state events she's been forced to go to due to Scion business.

Shoes: a good pair of leather boots are her favorite, something made to fit her foot and able to withstand a lot of travel and be comfortable. If it has a sole that is grippy for uneven terrain and support for her ankles, she's pretty happy. Think a construction work boot.

Accessories and little things about her:

She always wears a flower clip in her hair, she knows it's impractical, but her hair is one of the few indulgences she lets herself keep.

She also likes braids and plaits and learned how to do them. The gyr abanian plait was her standard hair style up until recently, briefly used Lyse's hair style and settled on Durante's going forward. She also dyes the blond parts of her hair green since arriving in Eorzea, much to a certain character's irritation later.

She always wears a single earring in places where it's warm, she removed them and most jewelry when she journeyed to cold regions such as Coerthas and Garlemald, to prevent frostbite. After Heavensward she wears a ring on her ring finger, the one she would have received from Haurchefant if things had gone differently and a necklace with two small crystals, a dark aspected one from Lahabrea and a ice aspected one from Ysayle. She also has a ring on that necklace after Shadowbringers from Emet-selch, which was something she had made him as Azem.

Can she fix her own clothes? Yes, it may not look fantastic on the inside, but it will be fully functional. She did get better at it from pre-ARR to Endwalker, Tataru got annoyed and sat her down and made her learn proper mending.

Colours: Mostly shades of green where she can. She has a few outfits in blue and reds, but she primarily wears green where she can. Tataru once again said she couldn't have every item be green and started making her wear other colours.

[tobyfoxmademeascaly]

Roevember #7 + 10: Crowd + Festival

In the years after her liberation, Ala Mhigo’s people were not found lacking in jubilation.

Indeed, even her most far-flung child, the Warrior of Light that had beaten the conquerers that had bound her for those 20-odd years, would return on the anniversary of her freedom, and join in the revelry.

And so it was that Lazy stood atop the palace, Raubahn and Lyse, Ala Mhigo’s other famed liberators, at her side. Across the lochs stood the remains of Porta Praetoria, the cermet edifice slowly falling to corrosion, but the stonework painstakingly maintained. A fate shared by many of the imperial bases across Gyr Abania.

The three stood at the head of a throng of citizens, leading in the revelry, all proclaiming in their own way one simple truth.

The Galvuses are gone, their empire fallen with them, and we are still here!

[storms-path]

Bonus Write!

So, after FFXIV Write month, I had a particular urge to write a particular story over the past couple of days. Trouble was, it was a little spicy and I genuinely didn't know whether or not I wanted to share it here or not. But hey, why not, right? So here, let me throw this moden AU story about my lizard and Lyse at you while I run screaming into the woods.

Update: This is a whole thing now! Welcome to the first chapter of WHEELS OF THUNDER - EORZEAN GRAND PRIX! I'll be posting updates here but the main fic is on AO3, go check it out.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59489872

Chapter 1: Prize

First things first, thought Arashi as she strode through the empty corridor. Get this damn suit peeled off. Secondly, she continued as her nose wrinkled, get myself in the shower. The rush of adrenaline was wearing off, this far from the track. All that remained was the stale smell of sweat and the faintly lingering euphoria of victory. Which was very much drowned out by the sweat.

Another race down, and this time she’d finally outmanoeuvred the damn prince of the road and secured first place. She’d wanted so badly to wipe the smug look off his face, but his loss only seemed to have spurred him on further. The Galvuses were mad bastards, every one. But they were, unfortunately, very good at building and driving racecars. And Zenos, it seemed, had been quite eager to smash his father’s old record. Until she’d overtaken him at the final turn. Until he’d smiled at her in that unsettling way, like she’d fulfilled some long-forgotten dream of his. Creep.

Arashi checked her pockets for the keycard, then swiped it across the door handle. Once. Twice. A third time with a curse for good measure. That did the trick. The door swung open easily, into Arashi’s hotel room. Well, Arashi’s and her friend’s room, following that unfortunate mixup with the bookings. Can’t believe Cid would forget to book enough rooms for everyone. Her chief mechanic was typically more put-together than that, but she supposed seeing his old flame in the Galvus pit crew had shaken him somewhat. Still, Arashi didn’t mind sharing. Not with her, anyway.

Arashi nudged the door shut with her tail, stretching and yawning as exhaustion hit her all at once. That was the trouble with racing. You could go as fast as you wanted, tear around corners at heart-pounding speed, but the toll of it all would be waiting at the finish line all the same. Arashi padded out of the hall and into the bedroom, where her suitcase lay half-open on the floor. Another bag had joined it, nestled directly at its side, several articles of clothing hanging halfway out of it. Guess she needed to unpack a few more things.

As the quiet settled in, Arashi picked up the gentle hiss of the shower from the bathroom. Taking a rain-check on getting the race washed off, then. “I’m back, Lyse!” she called in the direction of the bathroom door, then flopped onto the bed. Wriggled around in a vain attempt to get comfortable. Tried not to imagine her friend naked in the shower. Failed miserably. She’s a friend. Just a friend. Nothing more. Obviously.

Except, of course, for the fact that they had kissed last night. Yes, a bottle of wine had been involved, and yes, they had gone no further than that, but still. It had happened. And Arashi had, instead of actually confronting that fact, screamed a little (quietly, given the time), apologised repeatedly (not necessary, Lyse had advised her), and slept on the sofa for the night. Lyse hadn’t been there when she’d woken up in the morning, but she’d at least been willing to cheer her on during the race itself. Only to vanish again by the time Arashi had made it back to her garage.

Arashi had considered calling Sanda and asking for her advice, but she didn’t feel like being called an idiot. Not by someone else, at least. Her own inner thoughts were more than happy to echo the sentiment. Not helped by the rest of her thoughts, which were merrily replaying memories and fondly created fantasies instead. Arashi groaned, snatching a pillow and slapping it over her head. We’ll talk about it properly. Once she’s out of the shower. And once I don’t smell of brake fluid and sweat.

Arashi almost didn’t hear the hiss of the shower suddenly cease. The silence it brought with it was enough to make her heart skip a beat, however. Calm down, you silly woman. All well and good saying that. A damned sight harder to actually do it. Her heart was thundering harder than it had on that fateful final lap. Arashi was thankful that her pillow was still covering her face. It made it easier to (quietly) scream into without being overheard.

The bathroom door gently clicked open. “So I heard you won today,” came Lyse’s voice from the other side of it. “Sorry I couldn’t be there to congratulate you in person, but I had to get back here and prepare your prize.” Arashi pulled the pillow from over her head, sitting up with an expression of confusion. She’d already received her bonus for winning, and she certainly hadn’t heard of any other prize. Surely Cid would have mentioned something.

Focus! Open up that conversation instead of getting distracted! Arashi shook the digression out of her system and stood up, making to meet Lyse halfway. “Before that, we should really ta…” The door opened fully. The words abruptly died on Arashi’s lips. Her mind screeched to a halt. Oh. Oh, by the kami...

If Lyse had stepped out entirely naked, Arashi probably would have been able to react a little more coherently. She had not. Instead, Lyse had chosen a crimson jacket to cover herself… up to her collar and her elbows, anyway. The rest of her was not nearly so covered. Instead, a tiny red leather bikini covered her breasts, held on by bare strips which looked to be fighting for their lives against the tension. Curiously, the fabric had zips attached at the bottom, leading halfway up the leather triangles. Two more straps curled around Lyse’s sides and gently muscled stomach, deep black against pale skin and linked to one another through a tiny cross strap across her belly button. The straps converged again around her crotch, forming the rough approximation of panties which only accentuated her toned, powerful thighs. Below that, there was nothing. Lyse was blushing redder than Arashi had ever seen, but her smile promised so much more.

“Like I said, I had to prepare your prize. So, here I am!” Lyse did a little pose to emphasise the point. “For the rest of the evening, I’m all yours.”

“Bu… Buh… I… Yu…” Words weren’t coming out right. Arashi’s mind was reeling, her thoughts racing, her body torn between shock and a sudden, great need to do… Well, all sorts of things. Signals crossed and crashed and produced nothing worthwhile. So Arashi did the only thing she could think of that made sense. With a swift motion, she grabbed the pillow from the bed and slammed it back over her face.

Lyse was taken aback, to say the least. “Is everything alright?” Concern and worry mingled in her voice. Arashi didn’t quite trust herself to speak. Lyse continued. “I’m sorry! I thought from last night that you felt the same way, but then you kept apologising and I had to get up early so we couldn’t talk it out, and Yda keeps saying I should just do something daring instead of waiting for you to make the first move, then she sent me this outfit and told me to show it to you when you won, and now I’ve gone and screwed everything up and you probably hate me and I’m so, so sorry and I’ll go and you’ll never have to see me again an-”

Arashi held up a hand to stop the clearly babbling Lyse. “I… I need a moment to not speak gibberish. You are very pretty. Sorry.” Well done there, you moron. Just a master of words.

“You… think I’m pretty? Oh thank goodness, I was afraid when I saw myself in the mirror I’d just look ridiculous!” Lyse laughed in nervous relief. “Only… why are you holding up the pillow like that?”

Because if I look at you for too long I’m going to lose any semblance of sense. “Helps me focus better.” Arashi replied. “On… everything.” She took a deep breath, heart hammering. “I do like you. A lot. And I want to pursue a relationship with you. I just… didn’t expect to go so far so quickly. I… We… I mean, we haven’t even properly kissed yet! I just worry we’ll go too far too fast an-”

She didn’t hear the footsteps as Lyse padded closer. But she did feel Lyse snatch the pillow and throw it back onto the bed. She was close now, barely an inch away from Arashi’s face, reminding her that she was just slightly smaller than her bikini-clad companion. Blue eyes met blue eyes as the pillow flew away. “If it’s a kiss you want, I can do that. I mean, if that’s really what you want. Obviously I don’t want to force anything if you’re uncom-”

Lyse didn’t get to say much more than that as the last of Arashi’s good sense fled the scene. She closed the relatively little distance in an instant, her lips finding Lyse’s easily and her arms sliding around her back and chest. Lyse was more than happy to return the favour, the warmth of her body suddenly that much more persistent in Arashi’s mind. She couldn’t say how long they stayed like that, only that they broke away a little short of breath afterwards.

“Better?” Lyse asked with a surprisingly shy smile.

“Better,” Arashi breathed. Though she was now very, very aware of her need to take a shower. Or perhaps it was simply the suit.“I should probably-”

This time it was Lyse’s turn to interrupt with another kiss. It turned out she didn’t give much of a damn about the state of Arashi’s suit, other than that it was covering the rest of her. Lyse’s slender fingers set to work fixing that, apparently practised at peeling away the layers and straps and zips to get to the prize beneath it all. At some point the pair broke off the kiss long enough to tumble onto the bed, only to return to their new favourite activity for a while longer.

Finally, Arashi pulled away once more, now significantly more breathless and a good deal more focused on her girlfriend’s (girlfriend’s? Girlfriend’s) body. This is really happening, right? I’m not dreaming? By the kami, if I’m dreaming let me stay asleep. Something on her face must have sent the wrong signal, though, as Lyse interrupted her so-far-successful attempt at rendering Arashi naked. She drew back from Arashi so that she was sitting up, looking down at her. “Are you sure this is okay?” she asked, several steps too late at this point but making a valiant effort. “I want this, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t just want you for your body. I want to make this last. I…” Lyse was blushing again. “Gods, this is so embarrassing all of a sudden. I’m sorry, I should…”

“Lyse, whatever you do, don’t you dare stop now,” Arashi growled. Rational thought had gone out of the window a while ago. To emphasise her point, she wriggled out of the remains of her suit, then her underwear. She noted with some satisfaction that Lyse’s blush only grew redder at the sight. “Once we’re done, I’m going to take a good, hot shower and we’ll talk properly. But for now…”

Arashi tugged at the valiant strap holding Lyse’s bra together and used it to pull the blonde back down against her. She hadn’t expected it to suddenly snap, but Lyse didn’t complain outside of a yelp of surprise. “I want you. You want me. Let’s do something about that, yes?”

Lyse didn’t need any more encouragement than that.

[sapphobolide]

FFXIVWrite Day 11 — "Surrogate"

Lyse prayed. Papalymo knelt beside her, while pieces of Dalamud trailed above the treetops like falling stars. On their knees before Nophica’s Altar, they prayed to the Matron. They prayed to the Twelve.

Fire and thunder split the heavens. The red moon ruptured, then burst as a new sun tore open the night sky. Lyse leapt to her feet, head spinning, and even Papalymo looked up as meteors rained quaking fury upon the land. As the earth shook beneath them, a roar the likes of nothing Lyse had ever heard echoed from afar.

“What in the seven hells was that?” she demanded. She looked down at Papalymo, who was now standing to his full three-fulm height. His face was deathly serious, his eyes on a horizon she could not see. “Papalymo?”

“Dalamud’s prisoner.” She could barely hear him over the impact of fiery stone crashing into the forest around them. “Bahamut.”

“Who?”

“We had deemed the tale allegory, or exaggeration. But the possibility of its veracity had never escaped my consideration—nor, I should think, Master Louisoix’s.”

She had no idea what he was on about. She looked up at the storm of light in the sky where Dalamud had been. At its eye, she caught a glimpse of something moving. A monstrous, winged shape, outlined in gold. Gods, it must be absolutely massive. “Is that—is that a primal?”

Papalymo followed her gaze. “The first, if the tale is to be believed.”

Lyse stared at him, mouth open. “W-what do we do?”

“Continue the summoning. Our plan to arrest the fall of Dalamud may be of little use now, but Master Louisoix can still use the power of the Twelve to cast a great spell of sealing.” Papalymo closed his eyes briefly, as though pained. “…Though not without cost.”

She looked back at Nophica’s Altar. Another terrible roar shook the heavens. The golden light above them was spreading—chasing after the fallen shards of Dalamud, ribbons of scorching fire wove a deadly tapestry across the sky. Around them, the forest burned. “I—I can’t.”

Papalymo scowled. “What do you mean, you can’t?”

“I mean I can’t! I’m not a mage, or a scholar, or anything like the rest of you! I don’t know how!”

“We’ve gone over the process. You must simply believe. Believe, and pray, and put your faith in the others to do the same.”

“I know, but—"

“Do you mean to run all the way to Carteneau instead? Sprout wings and take the fight to the sky? Calm yourself, Yda—”

“Yda isn’t here!” she screamed. Papalymo’s eyes widened. She felt stupid—she was the one who had put on the mask, had asked that he call her that—but the words were spilling out now, and she couldn’t stop them. “I wish she was! Yda was wise, and strong, and never gave up! But I can’t just decide to be like that, Papalymo. I can’t pretend the gods are finally going to listen this time! If the Twelve really answered prayers, then my sister would still be—"

“Stop.”

It was the softness of his voice that shut her mouth. Lyse looked away. Around them, the land continued to buckle and break.

Papalymo took a step closer to her. “You’re right. Your sister…my old friend…she isn’t here. But you are. And I need you to do what she no longer can.”

Lyse sank to the ground. She shook her head, unwilling to look him in the eye.

“Yda’s wisdom, her strength, her persistence…They are yours now. Just as surely as that mask is—and those tattoos.” He gently touched the mark on the side of her neck, then put his hand on her shoulder. “If I did not believe you could bear them, I would not have given them to you.”

She looked up at Papalymo. His face was still serious, but his grey eyes were honest and clear. After a moment she let out a long breath, and nodded.

Returning to their place before Nophica’s Altar, Lyse and Papalymo prayed. Please, Lyse thought with all her might. Nophica, Halone, Althyk—Mighty Rhalgr. She prayed as the world ended. Get their attention for me, Yda. Help me save us all.

Around the horizon, pillars of white-blue light pierced the storm above. It swelled around Nophica’s Altar as well, rising like a spear to the heavens. Lyse and Papalymo bowed their heads as it swallowed them.

They'd done it. They summoned the Twelve.

And it was not enough.

[genderdotcom]

ffxivwrite2024 day 17: sally

the warrior of light faces her worst enemy yet: packing for a trip. (post-shb spoilers)

The suitcase’s gaping maw managed to loom ominously even from the floor. It hadn’t been this hard when she had left for the Far East, had it? No, back then she could have gone in her underclothes alone with nary a word of complaint, such was her verve to see her homeland freed… 

Now, though, she had no earthly clue what she was supposed to do. The towers, the lunar primals, Zenos, Fandaniel- it all blended and muddled together until the uncertainty was too much to bear. What use would she be in Sharlayan? A shoulder for the twins to lean on, to be sure, and she would bear their weight gladly- but with so much uncertainty even in Eorzea she was loath to leave.

The door opening shocked her out of her reverie.

“Oh, Fickle! I thought I’d missed you!” Lyse gasped, crossing the room in a few long strides and turning her around until they were face-to-face. The palm of her hand was warm on Fickle’s forearm, bringing to her notice the sudden chill in the air. Dusk came quickly to Ala Mhigo.

Fickle leaned in, meeting Lyse’s lips with her own for another shock of warmth. Lyse smiled against her and drew her closer still, though with care taken around her fangs- they’d made that mistake one time too many. One hand tangled in the fur at the back of her neck. The kiss deepened, teeth clacking in their earnestness, until Fickle broke away to lay her chin on Lyse’s head. An uncomplicated embrace.

“Soooo… what brings you here? I have to say, I thought most of your stuff was in the Rising Stones.”

“It is.” She mumbled into Lyse’s hair. “I left some stuff here last time, that’s all.” Lyse’s chambers in the war-ravaged capital weren’t much to write home about- she hardly spent time in them, after all, running to and fro trying to keep the Resistance on track- but there was a bed big enough for the two of them. That was all they needed in those uneventful, perfect months after Zenos was defeated. A bed to come back to…

It felt like a distant dream. Scant weeks ago, for Lyse, but the months and months spent in the First blurred Fickle’s memories at their edges until all that remained was the phantom feeling of warmth.

“I’ll miss you.” Reunited at last, and parted just as rapidly. Oh, if time could dilate like it did between worlds, that they could have a thousand cold evenings and warm mornings between these sheets. 

“I’ll miss you too, Fickle. But you aren’t leaving right this moment, are you? You haven’t started packing yet.”

Fickle broke away from the hug to look back at the suitcase. True enough, it hadn’t become any less empty, and its carpeted interior seemed to gaze at her judgingly, saying you couldn’t have thrown a bra in here in all the time you were ruminating?

“Ah.”

[souridealist]

FFxivwrite day 7: 'morsel'

[Elilona&Alphinaud, Elilona&Scions, Estinien/Alphinaud].

--

“Does it seem to you,” Alphinaud asks, “that Elilona keeps trying to feed people?”

“Hm?” Estinien lifts his face from Alphinaud’s hair, blinking sleepily. The aetheryte journey from Radz-at-Han takes a great deal of aether, even from him, and their bed is a warm soporific nest in a Garlean cold. “It’s a refugee camp. Of course she sent something.”

“Even she could hardly cook enough alone to feed us all.” He pauses. “She’d try, wouldn’t she? If we asked her to.”

“Most likely.” Estinien squeezes Alphinaud’s shoulder, gentle in the dark. “She’s doing well, I think. She looks… well.”

“Right, she’s heading out to you quite often, isn’t she?” Only Elilona could take an aetheryte from Gridania to Thavnair and back as if it’s no more effort than crossing a city.

“I think Nidhana’s teaching her how to… do something,” Estinien says. That’s actually quite encouraging — Elilona does better when she’s working with her hands — but Alphinaud does have a point here, brought to mind by the heap of sykon cookies that Estinien brought with him.

“It isn’t only us she tries to feed,” he says. “Urianger says that when he and Thancred were in Gridania they could barely move for peach tarts and lemon muffins, and she keeps sending Tataru and Cid these mixes for Thavnairian chai. Don’t tell me she didn’t send you with something for Y’shtola too.”

“More cookies,” Estinien admits. “And she kept trying to feed me these pumpkin things. I thought maybe someone grew too many pumpkins.” He pauses. “I think that terrifying woman at the Baldesion Annex mentioned they got sent a bundle of things, too.”

“When did you even talk to Krile?” Alphinaud shakes his head. “Ah, well, that’s good to know.” Doubly so since asking G’raha about Elilona seems unkind, just now. “I’m sure she’s sent Lyse something, too, and I believe I heard she was sending something to her friends in Ishgard.”

“Well, it hardly seems you needed to ask me anything,” Estinien says, laughing against Alphinaud’s cheek. “So, what, are you afraid she’s going to give it all up and become an official culinarian? Does Alisiae think you’re being a fool?”

“She doesn’t, actually,” Alphinaud says, not without smugness. It fades quickly, and he buries a sigh in Estinien’s chest. “I just… I hope she’s all right. I worry about her.” Such simple sentences, to hold every ledge he’s watched her stand at. He’s dragged her back from too many of them. “You didn’t see her, after Ysayle…”

“I know.” His arms are a brief, tight pressure around Alphinaud’s ribs, a silent apology for silence and lost time. “We’ll keep an eye on her. For now she’s happy enough.”

***

Alphinaud gets a chance to ask Elilona eventually, when he and Alisiae catch a few days to slip away and visit. Elilona’s house is rich with the smells of sugar and carrots, and she has flour dusted across her apron and perilla oil on the blunt bridge of her nose. She blinks at him once, twice, and then laughs.

“I guess I am cooking a lot, huh?” she says. “It’s been so long since I had anywhere enough to cook in, is all. Five or six years now, I think? Since before I came to Gridania, even. So it’s nice, to be able to do this again.”

Alphinaud’s mouth goes thick with the taste of regret, there and gone. There’s so much he regrets about those first days, with the primals on one side and the Garleans on the other and Elilona driven before them all. What an arrogant, blindered fool he was. So many things that so many of them should have said, and should have asked.

Elilona is smiling here and now, though, as she looks around the gentle colors of the home she has at last. Alphinaud swallows hard and steps forward to hug her as tight as he can, his arms only half reaching around her ribcage and his face buried against her ribs. She hugs him back without a question, her hands gentle on his shoulders. He is almost certainly going to come away with a flour-dusting of his own.

Funny, isn’t it, how these things go.

[woltourney]

ROUND 4 / SIDE A / POLL 1

Kasha Sho (@r04ch-ships) v. Merle Rouge (@vamp-galactica)

Kasha Sho:

q. What is your WoL name and pronouns? a. Kasha Sho, They/She (trans queen)

q. What is your WoL's species? a. Au’Ra Raen

q. What is your WoL's class? Or classes? a. Gunbreaker + Monk

q. What data centre/server are you on, if you want people to find you? a. Crystal Malboro <3

q. Tell us a bit about your WoL! a. I want to preface this by saying I made Kasha’s lore before I knew about the Yda/Lyse thing. Im not retconning because Kasha is better than her anyways 🙄 /hj Kasha was raised in Doma on a small farm! She had a younger brother and an older sister, her older sisters name was Kasha and she was killed by an unknown group. My wol then took their sisters name and fled to Eorzea on a refugee boat. She landed in Ul’dah and started from there! Kasha is VERY aggressive, mean, and insulting. She does not know basic manners and will speak her mind freely. Eats with their hands and also eats ANYTHING… Kasha doesnt like being the WoL, but continues this role because if she wont then who will? They’re very loud and boisterous and confident. Will fight anyone and everyone. She has 97 mental illnesses and is banned from most countries. She doesnt know how to read and is an overall idiot but shes doing her best leave that little guy alone Shes also 6ft tall and buff as SHIT

q. Why should YOU win? (Answer IC!) a. I WILL WIN because Im the best fighter out here and I will CRUSH THE BONES OF MY- this isn’t an actual fight? … Um 😶 I would TOTALLY win a real fight. Just so you know.

Merle Rouge:

q. What is your WoL name and pronouns? a. Merle Rouge, She/Her

q. What is your WoL's species? a. Roegadyn

q. What is your WoL's class? Or classes? a. Warrior

q. What data centre/server are you on, if you want people to find you? a. Famfrit

q. Tell us a bit about your WoL! a. Merle lived in a small fishing village on an island just a little ways off the coast of La Noscea, but had never gone to the mainland! Her father abandoned her and her mother to go be on the sea, and washed up on shore years later. Merle decided to rebuild his ship with the piece of wood he washed up with and take her mother sailing, but she died of old age before they could set off. She took her mothers ashes with her and set off, running a fishing company off the boat for a while. Then, one morning, she docked in La Noscea only to be approached by a representative from the adventurers guild. Needing a distraction from her woes, she decided to sign up, and found a whole new joy in her journeys. She’s a bright and merry woman with a big heart who fights with all her emotions, never holding anything back. The people she’s met on her travels are like family to her, even the ones she’s only met once. When all the world is your family, you’re never alone, after all! Even through the hardships, she has never considered being the hero a burden- it’s a duty she takes on for the world she loves. She likes to fish, cook, and dance, and considers Ishgard her home despite being a bit of a fish out of water there. As part of her blessing from Hydaelyn, when her warrior spirit is amped up and she’s feeling the heat of battle, her clothing and armor will turn a bright shimmery blue!

q. Why should YOU win? (Answer IC!) a. “There’s so much of me t’love! Seven feet n’ three inches, in fact! WAHAHAHA! I also make a real mean coconut cod n’ I made an Ishgardian tailor rich with all the custom sized dresses I needed!”

[brineffxiv]

Oh dear. What the hell is that thing? Fandaniel has interrupted our meeting with Lyse, and brought his pet.

No. Nope. Don't like you. Not a pleasure at all.

Though, you are a pleasure to screencap. In my struggle to get the most dynamic images I'm taking twice as many for every line because you keep posing for me.

You wanna what??

Yes, I have more than started to regret that.

Huh.

Were you... not restored right, or something? Having seen how Mitron and Loghrif regarded their lives before ascension, and the cares thereof, it seemed all else faded once their memories were restored... but you. Don't seem to have the overwhelming attachment to the "greater good" that your fellows did.

You don't seem to have the attachment to who you originally were.

A "sovereign individual"... You seem to have held onto your identity as a shard, rather than accepting that you are a fragment of a whole.

I wonder, do you resent your unsundered colleagues for having "enlightened" you? Is that why you will now work to bring about the very thing they devoted their lives to preventing? Because it would be easy to die. Easier to provoke another calamity and kill us all that way. But you specifically want to recreate the Final Days... So to me, it reads as a giant "Fuck You" to your brethren, now that they're no longer around to stop you.

There's always a reason. You might not want to admit it, but there's clearly a strong motivation behind your actions beyond simply wanting to die and to kill.

Who's this "Telophoroi" ?? The last time I check it was you and Zenos! Did you give yourself a fancy name so to make yourself feel bigger? Hilarious.

I'm a' firin mah lazer!

Zenos, you fucking goober, if you want to fight me just ask.

Or, more like, just show up with a sword and point it in my general direction.

Let me at it; I'll fight that too.

Correction: Elidibus wasn't unhinged, he was just looking at the world from a different perspective.

...makes me wonder if Fandaniel isn't similar. I doubt that the game would give us a simply crazy or "evil" villain at this point in the storyline.

asfsfhsdfsg That's such an adorable image after all the horror.

Ah. Makes sense it would be a global phenomenon; the Final Days were as well.

Tataru, you are more threatening than any Ascian. I do not envy Estinien.

It never does.

Oh decisions, decisions... I think you know which one I picked.

Hhhhh! My heart! I need to hug you. Game, let me hug him!

Meanwhile, Lyse's scouts have gone missing. (I told you not to go near the towers, they're radioactive or something) Oh wait, there's one...

Aaaa! What?! That's not good.

Meanwhile, meanwhile, Zenos is still bored as fuck sitting in his fancy chair.

10-1 he does not care, Fandaniel.

Yep. Told you so.

Awe, how sweet, he doesn't want me hurt. By anyone not him.

And then he breaks the damn sword. Hell, that thing was iconic. What will you wield now, I wonder?

[alicesadventuresinffxiv]

FFxivWrite2024 Prompt #28

Title: Deleterious Relations

Wordcount: 1005

Spoilers through: Stormblood

Alternate Universe: To Catch a Falling Star

Relationships & Characters: Fordola/Lyse

Summary: Just when things seem to be going right for Lyse and Fordola, everything suddenly goes very, very wrong. 

Or: Lyse fails to prevent a primal summoning.

(Feels like the end of FFxivWrite is in sight! I know I’ve completely fallen off of reading everyone else’s work, so I’m really looking forward to finishing and having time to catch up!)

.

“Of course the damn snakes betrayed us!” Hrudolf groaned.

Until now, Lyse’s plans had been going well. Perhaps a little too well. With her passing on messages from the captive Anamika through another Resistance spy, the Qalyana had been persuaded to assist the Alliance.

And so a new order had been relayed from Raubahn and Naago: Lyse’s role was to free the hostage in the chaos of the upcoming battle, so the Qalyana would have nothing to stop them from joining the fray at Velodyna. The Skulls would have their escape utterly cut off.

But Lyse hadn’t taken the news well. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but deep in her gut, she felt like the pieces didn’t add up. The Qalyana were not inclined to violence. Few of their number even had training in the art of war. If it came down to a battle between them and the Skulls, they’d be slaughtered.

Then again, Lyse was probably just disappointed that all the effort she’s gone to in befriending Fordola hadn’t been needed. The new plan was to take her and the rest of the Skulls by force - though Lyse doubted many of them would allow themselves to be taken alive.

Besides, who was she to question Commander Aldynn? He’d been fighting battles since before Lyse had even been born. Despite her misgivings (which, if she was being honest, were thoroughly selfish), she would trust in his commands.

“Where’s the hostage? Lyse, bring her out!” Fordola shouted from up ahead.

That was her cue.

Lyse squeezed Anamika’s hand and nodded to her. The young girl smiled back. She was plainly terrified - what child wouldn’t be, in the midst of an armed standoff? - but she seemed to want to be strong for the nice “guard” the scary Butcher had appointed her.

After all, they’d spent long hours together, chatting away in Lyse’s old cell. Lyse had brought her whatever scraps of metal she’d been able to find, as the Ananta girl appeared to find it soothing to mold into little bracelets and trinkets. 

“I’m good at making thingsss,” she’d said shyly when Lyse had gasped in wonder at witnessing her magick. “All the Qalyana are! Beautiful thingsss. But,” she’d finished sheepishly. “Not keysss. Not weaponsss. So not very practical to essscape…”

…Which was why, when Lyse stepped to the front of the imperials and finally beheld the Ananta barring their path, she’d been so confused. She’d expected the Qalyana to be covered in gold and crystals, like their counterparts in the Vira. And yet, while a few wore metal bands, most were bare of adornment.

A shiver ran down Lyse’s spine.

A peaceful tribe pushed to the brink to defend themselves, and a batch of mysteriously missing crystals. As a Scion, Lyse had seen the same story play out again and again, and it only ever ended one way.

“Fordola. We have to leave. Now.” Lyse whispered, her mouth dry. She knelt down and began untying Anamika’s bonds, heedless of whoever saw her.

“What are you doing!? The hostage is the only leverage we have!” The commander snarled back. “I can still salvage this!”

“Forget the hostage!” Lyse yanked apart the last knot. “We have to run!”

“Run where?” Fordola unsheathed her gunblade, blocking Anamika from darting forward. Then she narrowed her eyes, glaring coldly at the leader of the Ananta across from her. “Out of our way, or the girl’s life is forfeit,” she called over the empty patch of land between them. “As are yours.”

“They’re civilians,” Lyse muttered.

“Stopped being civilians when they brought weapons and pointed them at soldiers, Lyse,” Fordola snapped. “We’ve a choice between blooded Alliance mercenaries at our backs and these unknowns in front of us.” She lifted her gunblade, aiming it clearly at the heart of the Ananta Broodmother. “I like my odds better with the snakes.”

“Sso you would cut us down,” the Broodmother hissed. “You think usss Qalyana weak! But no longer. We will not sssuffer you imperials, nor will we be disressspected as another tribe of beasts, and denied our rightsss by the ssso-called Alliance.” She beckoned to her daughter, motes of twinkling light beginning to fill the air. “Come, Annamika. Together we shall ssshow them all the beauty of Sri Lakshmi!”

“No!” Lyse screamed, and tackled the young girl to the ground.

And not a moment too soon, as a burst of blinding light heralded the primal crackling to life overhead.

“W-what…!?” Fordola stepped back, her mouth agape. 

Of course, Lyse thought. She’s never seen a primal before. And no amount of Garlean propaganda would have prepared her for the real thing.

“What now, commander?” Hrudolf shouted urgently.

“I-I don’t know!” The Butcher, always ruthlessly decisive, was suddenly at a loss for words. “We’re not to engage with an eikon!”

“Tch. It’s just a big fake, innit?” Ansfrid sprang forward, his fists clenched to attack. “I’ll take down the one what’s castin’!”

“You can’t!” Lyse stumbled to her feet, but it was too late.

Oh, one hefty punch and Ansfrid managed to smash the Broodmother to the ground, likely shattering her spine in the process. But the moment he turned around with a triumphant cry, a scintillating pulse of life claimed his mind. 

“A primal is not bound to its summoner’s life,” Lyse tonelessly recounted Papalymo’s lessons. “Once called, it will temper anyone, friend or foe. And so it cannot be fought, except at terrible cost.”

“You know this beast.” Fordola’s head had been whipping back and forth - looking behind them, where the Alliance still fought, then looking forward, where Ansfrid now dazedly mumbled praises to the eikon. Now her attention fell to Lyse. “What do we do?”

Lyse swallowed. The plan had been to have the Skulls surrender to the Resistance. But if they turned back now, she’d be leading a primal right into the heart of her allies. Even the Warrior of Light couldn’t protect a whole army. That left only one choice.

“We run forward,” she said grimly. “And we don’t look back.”