#aveline de Bontensont

[mossbirdreigns]

Aveline de Bontensont as of Endwalker’s release.

Current class main(s): DNC/AST Current minion: Bullpup Current mount: Albino Karakul

RP Status: Sick of everyone’s shit. Tired and wants to go home to her gf. Let her sleep.

Tags: @housedzemael  @geirskogull @greywolfknight43 @mining-the-stars

[geirskogull]

Rhalgr Mourns - Chapter 1 - The Dragoon Shadow Box

Another colab with @momomomodi as we thought about the question “What if ser Greystone was not fast enough” which made us very sad and we channeled it into writing to share that sadness. Featuring our warriors of Light, with an alternative take on the vault. 

Archive Link

Rating: M

Word Count: 1k

Warning of course for Major Character Death. 

The light of the spear was brilliant, scalding blue. It burned through the air, crackling aether swarming like a haze of anger. Haurchefant looked, panicked to where Zephirin stood. Danica lept through the air, her spear guiding her path. Aveline watched with horrified eyes as the two sailed. Connected. Crashed. The light was blinding, a cacophony of brilliant aether as light met armour. It happened in the blink of an eye. Within seconds, the Ala Mhigan was pinned to the stone of the Vault, blood seeping from the wound in her chest. Aveline stood, still as a statue, watching as the lifeblood and aether of her dear friend pooled underneath her on the cool stone.

Crumbled, like a paper doll one had decided was not to their liking, and thrown into the fire. Her spear, tumble across the walkway, abandoned, its tip glistening with blood never ment for its blade. The world seemed to stand still as if Hydaelyn herself had stopped spinning at the unexpectedness of the sudden, and brutal, stop. As if surprised, really, that the one who she gifted with foresight, was so easily felled.

What came next was a scream. Ear-splitting and soul-scarring. Gurgled and blocked by blood, pooling in the recesses of her lungs.

Ser Haurchefant found he could not move. Statuelike, frozen at the horror. Only jostled back to conscious movement when shoved to the ground by her fellow dragoon. Estinien ran towards her, throwing his helm and spear to the ground as he reached her. Grasping her to his metal lap, trying hard to free her from the pinning grasp of the aetheric pike.

“What are you waiting for!” He barked, towards Aveline, towards them all. “Help me!”

The Astrologian burst into action, her star globe spinning calmly. Aveline was not calm. A flurry of spells left her lips, cards splayed on the ground. Blood soaked. Frantically, she cast and cast, pulling rapidly from the aether hanging in the air. When that ran dry, she drew from herself. Anything to save Danica. She would not lose anyone else.

She hadn’t stopped screaming. If anything, she had just lost the ability to reach anything beyond a whisper in decibels. Yet she tried, her face was tear-stained, she tried. Her hands shook, frantically reaching towards them. Towards at first all of them, and then -

He found in his legs movement, and soon that hand in his. He opened his mouth to speak, but his words had yet to catch up. Her wide, beautiful, mismatched eyes screamed for safety. Screamed of fears she’d never spoken. Screamed for anyone or anything to stop the pain. For safety, for shelter. Yet his shield could not offer her that now.

She spoke then. Words as her grasp grew weaker, as he clasped his other hand to hers praying to the Fury that his strength would become hers.

“Haurchefant, I’m scared.”

Aveline knelt next to her friend, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. The Astrologian’s breath was heavy. She couldn’t continue like this for much longer, the constant spellcasting was taking its toll. Tears welled in her eyes as hope faded from her heart. Another. She would lose another in this godsforsaken war. Her words caught in her throat. How do you comfort a dying friend who would never again see their home?

You can’t. There are no words in the entire star that could ease that pain.

In the distance, Haurchefant could hear the Archbishop command Zephirin set course for some distant location. He could hear the whirling engines stealing the villains away, winning them the day.

Suddenly, he was aware of how very heavy his shield was upon his arm. And of how unforgivably useless it was. He was aware of the bloody streaks joining her tears, rushing down her face. Of each cough and wheeze and lurch. Like the flickering death of a candle, upon the end of its wick.

She looked so afraid. So alone, even as they surrounded her. Tiny. Even as Aymeric caught up with them. Even as he held her hand in a vice grip, even as Aveline tried again and again to close the bleeding, open, gap in her body. Even as for the first time in his life, he saw true anguish upon the face of the Azure dragoon.

From what little he knew, it must have felt like his soul was shattering. He wondered if it hurt more than seeing Lady Voss die in front of him. For no matter how bright her hope burned, Halone did not bless him with a fools blindness. He was losing her. They all were.

Aveline’s heart broke. Tears ran down her cheeks.

“Don’t worry, Dee.” Her voice trembled, “It won’t hurt anymore.”

Her hands shook uncontrollably. She bowed her head, looking gently into the mismatched eyes of her friend. “It’ll be okay, Dee.” She tried to smile, a charade easily seen through but she continued it nonetheless. A hand lay gently on the Dragoon’s shoulder. Sleep.

Danica Voss, last and only child of Maerwynn Voss and Orlaux De Dzemael, stranger far far from any remains of her home, Sellsword, Mage, Friend looked up at Aveline and smiled. As death wrapped his thin arms around her and closed her eyes, dragging her away from the material far across the aether sea. She joined them, in a way. All of the Ala Mhigans before her, memorialized at the Tomb of the Errant Stone. But yet, it didn’t stop the bitterness as her eyes fluttered shut, and the spear disintegrated into rich blinding aether around her.

Silence fell over them all as she slowly grew cold. As thick clouds covered the setting sun, and the threat of a blizzard forced them inside. As Estinien, refusing to allowing any closer, carried her, no her body, into the cathedral. Already aware of what it was like to have no family to mourn you.

This silence was interrupted only by a sudden crack of thunder.

As even then, Rhalgr mourned.

[momomomodi]

Oh hey!

[mossbirdreigns]

Aveline de Bontensont as of Endwalker’s ending.

Current class main(s): DNC/AST Current minion: Hedgehoglet Current mount: Grani

RP Status: Fascinated by the Ancients. Sick of Zenos. Wants to keep adventuring and helping people with her gf. Changed by her near-death experience. Wants to help the Garlean Recovery Effort. Tags: @housedzemael @mining-the-stars @geirskogull @neranishin @greywolfknight43

[geirskogull]

Important - Chapter 1 - Loss

a Colab fic between myself and @momomomodi ft. something we short hand call DRK Haurchefant AU 

Danica Voss and Aveline de Bontensont are two very different Warriors of light, but also two very good friends. Even now, five years down the line when loss has colored them so different than they use to be. They mourn the loss of one so important to both their lives, only to have that ritual practice interrupted by their own minds and ascian fuckery.

Archive Link

Words: 2.6 K

Rating: M

It was a slow day at the Quicksand. The people of Ul’dah bustled in and out as they always did, going about their business, making deals, living their lives. Two individuals seated at a corner table mourned the loss of one. It was the anniversary of Haurchefant’s death, the day when the spear of light pierced through the metal of his shield and speared him. The day when they had held his hands as the light faded from his eyes. The day when his life blood seeped into the stones of the Vault. Danica Voss sat, mourning the loss of her first love. A man so kind and loving, who cherished her as though she were the most valuable thing on Hydaelyn. Who craved to protect those he loved. Who died fulfilling his life’s wish. Aveline de Bontensont sat, mourning the loss of her best friend. A man she had known since the tender age of 11, who she helped to rescue when the stress of his family became too much to bear. A boy who only wished to serve as a Knight of Ishgard. Who took an arrow unarmoured for his best friend. A boy so courageous, he gave his life for those dearest to him. A man who would never know the truth behind the Dragonsong War but died with love in his heart and a smile on his lips.

Voss inhaled, closing her eyes as she raised her glass. Words swirling through her head, muddled by the echo of Ul’dah behind her. to paint the monument to a man who deserved one far more permanent. Light danced through the pale liquid, reflecting off of it, sparkling. Gentle whispers of memory floated through her mind as she remembered some of his most gentle words towards her. “Like gold”  he whispered “Rare and brilliant and beautiful, your eyes are the pinnacle of you.”  She said nothing, finding any toast lackluster, and gave Aveline a sad smile. 

Francel was right, it never did get any easier.

Though this ritual they had made probably didn’t help its chances. A yearly remembrance, somber and fueled by booze, far far from where he laid.  She downed her drink, shook her head, and gave a sad smile. “I know by this time I’m normally sobbing into my twelfth glass, but count it as a record that I’m not. So what do we now? Trade stories?” She asked, shrugging and pouring herself another glass

Aveline sipped her drink, shrugging, “I suppose. Five years now, it still hurts to think of him.” It burned harshly in her chest every time her mind recalled him, scalding and painful. She couldn’t help but think of him as a young boy, angry and sad at the world. She took a deep breath, trying to hold back tears. She took a long drink, letting the liquor fuel her. “Would… would you like to hear of how he earned his knighthood?” The story was a fond one though it reminded her too much of his death for her liking. He took the exact same stance as when he protected Francel that day. Tears burned in her eyes. Damn it, how could his death still have such hold over her? She buried her face in her hands for a long moment before looking back up at Danica and taking another long drink.

“No he told me that one.” The Half Elezen woman responded, tracing her eyes across the crowd, trying to find anything to occupy her mind instead of visages of cold stone. And the Dead. You’d think she’d be use to the dead by now, “about Francel and you and all that...” She smiled, thinking fondly of Haurchefant, sitting in front of the hearth in his room in Camp Dragonhead, speaking of his own adventures that “are not nearly as grand as yours, love”  all the while she sat there rapt, fascinated beyond reason, simply joyful she was getting to know, to see someone as more than just this warrior the world had decided to paint her.

To paint the both of them. 

She dug her fingers into the tablecloth, looking back at her glass and at Aveline. She knew her mourning was obvious, even now, especially to Aveline, but cracked a facsimile of a smile anyway. “Why not tell me something that makes you happy?”

The Elezen thought for a long moment, drumming her fingers on her glass. After a long moment, she smiled, “Our birthdays. We always spent them together. We had a small wooden cabin in the middle of Coerthas where someone would always bring a cake. We wouldn’t have to deal with families or politics or other people. It… it was just the three of us.” She looked down at her dress, fiddling absent-mindedly. Those days had passed. Now Haurchefant’s birthday had returned to only being a day like any other. She and Francel rarely had the time now to see one another, even when she was in Coerthas. Long had it been since laughter echoed in that cabin, now a vestige of their childhoods. She looked off into the distance, her eyes going glassy for a moment as she remembered the nights they had spent simply having fun with one another. The silver haired Elezen giving her piggybacks around the snow-covered hills, Francel laughing so hard that tears welled in his eyes, moments spent in quiet acknowledgement of where their futures would lead them. “Hey, I know you’ll come back soon enough, Ace. Couldn’t bear to be away from our handsome faces for too long!” He had pulled Francel close to his side that day, the two of them beaming at her. Part of her wished that she had never left. Part of her wished she were there as a bystander the first time Danica, Alphinaud, and Tataru walked into Ishgard, murmuring about the newcomers who had passed through the gates. Not knowing anything of primals or the Empire or anything outside of the quiet isolation of Ishgard. She took another long drink, poured herself another glass, and downed that one as well.

Danica looked to her glass, envisioning simply days she had never seen - and thankfully the echo did not change that this time. A small smile dancing at the edge of her lips, imagining her friends, young and carefree. She emptied her glass in a fell swoop, liquid courage for questions and statements alike. Strange she still needed it after all these years. Aveline was a friend, probably one of her closest. Knew more about her than anyone else living, save maybe Estinien. And Haurchefant  her mind reminded her, she grimaced, hoping that she could play it off as the booze. The dead may know, but they do not speak. 

She inhaled, reaching for the bottle, but stopping herself. If she continued at this rate she’d be back to her usual “crying incoherently into her glass” phase before the hour was up. She swallowed hard, and reached into the collar of her shirt, fishing out a necklace holding a simple ring. She twisted it in her hand, flicking her eyes back up to Aveline. 

“Can I ask you a personal question?” She inquired, hoping to pry thoughts away from her strange display of restraint in her consumption. 

Danica’s voice snapped Aveline from her thoughts. Her eyes flickered to the ring, to the glass, to Danica, “Of course.” Her eyes flicked down to her own ring on her left hand. She watched Danica carefully, sipping her own drink while she waited for the question to come.

“Why did you leave Ishgard, initially?” the Ala Mhigan tilted her head not unlike a curious dog. She couldn’t think of any reason she would want to willingly leave her home, at least not as young as she met Aveline. Hells, she would have sold her left kidney to be back in Bittermill, with her parents, and the inn. She shivered, trying to force her mind's eye away from that burning wreck of a town. Even with Orlaux back and Maerwynn buried, the ache that ate at her chest was too much, especially today.

Aveline took a deep breath, “My brother, partially. My parents loved him, far more than my sister or I. The “Knight of Ishgard”.” She shook her head slowly, “I had wanted to learn, to see other parts of Eorzea. It didn’t help that I didn’t care for Ishgard’s rules. So, I left, made arrangements to stay somewhere in Thanalan, and left. It wasn’t easy,” She fidgeted with her glass, the liquid inside swirling slightly. “Quite honestly, I was terrified, but it scared me more to think of what my life might’ve been like if I had stayed. Would I have been married off to some distant noble who had some semblance of money or power?” She shook her head again. “What made you decide to join the Thaumaturges?” Let her shift the subject onto something she regretted less. Her mind continued to bombard her with the ‘what ifs’ of that decision, tormenting her with what might’ve been.

Danica cringed physically at the idea of an arranged marriage. That never made sense to her, why marry if not for love? Perhaps her perception was colored by her own creation. The Ishgardian noble who ran off with the Ala Mhigan sellsword, with all the good that did them. Nald’thal still took his due when decided, far too early for her liking. She also couldn’t understand the idea of loving some of your family more than others. Another relic of her shattered childhood, she never had the chance to meet her little brother. 

Her eyes snapped up, thankful to be reminded of something better? Perhaps? She was never really sure when it came to that life event. She downed her glass, and left it empty this time.

“I didn’t choose. It was the Thaumaturges guild, or they’d take off my hands for theft and throw me into blood sands for illegal usage of magics.” She replied, blunt and matter of fact. Chuckling after a moment of silence.

“You see, when I left little Ala Mhigo” When The Echo forced out, too much pain, too much suffering and what had she decided to do? Go to the big city? Where yet more awaited her? “I came here, I wasn’t alone, of course I had Coyote and Zara but we were 12 and didn’t have any money. One day when were rifling through a fruit merchants trash for our breakfast the merchant caught us and sent us running. His guards after us.” Brutish fellows, not averse to cleaning  up the streets of some street rat refuges. “They caught Zara by the tail, and I wasn’t about to let anything bad happen to my fa- my friend that I panicked and somehow lit the man on fire”

“They grabbed me, shoved me in a little metal cell while Zara and Coyote ran, and told me to await my sentencing.” She continued, confined areas still bothered her. She had a hard time breathing in them. She needed to see the sky. Or at least have a very tall ceiling. “Then Cocobusi came in and asked me where I learned my magic and I said I didn’t know any. Then he asked me if I wanted to learn. I said anything was better than the Bloodsands, and he agreed. Thus, Thaumaturges Guild.”

It was almost funny now, the first domino on her path to “Warrior of Light”-dom. “What about you? Why not the pugilist guild or the Arcanists guild of Limsa?” She asked, reflecting back the question to her friend.

Aveline looked over at Momodi for a moment, “In all honesty? I wanted to rebel. My brother had always been the perfect White Knight. I wanted to learn the so called “Black Magic”.” She looked down at her skirt. Would Haurchefant have been disappointed in her for that decision? She shuddered, playing with her glass. She sat in silence for a moment. “Do you think he would be proud of who we are now?” She spoke softly, looking up at Danica.

Danica paused, going as still as a statue as the words wreaked havoc on her thoughts and her heart. Would he be proud of who they were now? No. Her mind said at first. She was brutal, violent, and cared less and less for the world as a whole as the days went on. She cared only about the survival of those closest to her, those she considered her people. She smiled still, but it was never real. Only Feral. And those parting words, nothing but a twisted mockery of their intention, repeated like a mantra now, to keep her going even when all things told her to rest. 

Yes. Her mind also shouted, was it Fray? Was it Odin? Was it some other part of her that she didn’t have a name for? He’d be proud because they kept going. They didn’t wallow in their sadness, even as it threatened to overcome them. It clung to them, yes, but life did that. But they kept going. Kept doing good. Moved forward towards grand horizons that he never got to see. 

“I don’t know.” she voiced those words cautiously. Thinking of all the things stolen from him, all the moments in time stolen from them. Was it worth making his hypothetical ghost proud, if his actual form wasn’t there to see it? “I don’t know, I will not and cannot speak for him. But... I’d like to think so.” I don’t know if I could handle otherwise. She thought, but did not say.

“What about you? You knew him much longer than me, what say you?” She asked, a heavy question for a heavy question weighing strong upon her neck much akin to the golden band that hung there. Remembering his words. Making her promise that she’d wait to tell people till after he told his father. Never getting the chance. 

She still had a hard time looking Count Fortemp in the eyes sometimes.

The Elezen woman sat for a long while in silence. Would he be proud of who she had become? A silent protagonist in a story filled with so many voices. She had changed so much since she had first known him. No longer was she a young girl, full of life and cheer. No. Now she was a woman filled with responsibilities and obligations. “A Knight lives to serve.” Was serving the people of Eorzea worth giving up everything she used to be? She was cold, calculating. The ice to Danica’s flame. She couldn’t remember the last time she had truly smiled. She twisted her ring on her finger, absentminded, distracted. “I think he would have been proud of us for continuing on. For not letting his… his death stop us.” She hesitated, her breath catching in her throat for a moment. She looked back at the ring Danica wore around her neck, silently acknowledging it. Taking a deep breath, she poured herself another drink, downing it quickly. Haurchefant wouldn’t be proud of her for drinking her pain away. For trying to forget. Forget the look in his eyes as the life faded from them. She flinched as through she had been slapped. Halone help her.

Danica sat up, determined and inspired by her friends dour confirmation. Raising her glass, she began. “Well then, To us.” She started, extending arm in a toast. “May we keep making him proud.” The clink of glasses that followed rang hollow in their hearts, devoid of such an integral piece for so long.

[momomomodi]

I love ballet poses too much

[momomomodi]

Aveline de Bontensont, Tamer of Steeds

[geirskogull]

Important - Chapter 2 - Found

Chapter 2 of @momomomodi and I’s colab fic <3 Ft. two Drunken WoLs attempting to walk home

Archive Link

Words: 2.1 K

Rating: Mature

The Quicksands doors clattered open early in the morning. Though by that time, the bar itself was almost sleepy, the two women stumbling out of its doors were very much less so. At least, one of them was. A drunken dragoon, leaning upon her spear like a lifeline, smiled madly at the elezen across from her. All thoughts of brutal deaths and deep sadness forgotten in favor of mischief in a slow moving inebriated mind. One that could barely stand, let alone jump, in her current state. 

To quote Y’sthola once; she was a borderline functional alcoholic.

“Are you suurreee we need to go home?” The Dragoon whined, like an imputent child. “It’s not THAT late.” She lied, leaning wildly, dangerously, nearly the fountain at the entrance.

The drunken Astrologian grinned at Danica, “Probably. We don’t want to get in trouble with the Brass Blades.” She laughed loudly. While Danica became mischievous, Aveline became… uninhibited. The normally quiet, sad Elezen became a confident woman willing to push people’s buttons with no care for consequence. 

“I think… we should go find Papashan.” She giggled, “He’s gotta be a good drinking partner!” She wobbled slightly as she grabbed Danica’s arm, leading her down the streets of Ul’dah.

“But he’s a ya know...” The Dragoons voice dropped to a faux whisper, more a yell. “A cop” She laughed, properly the Lalafel was a member of the Sultansworn. Less cop and more secret service, but many a childhood running into the security of Ul’dah even had a drunken Dee on edge. But yet, she did not resist her friends pull towards the Gates of Thal. 

“He’s also a station master though, I guess.” She murmured to herself, after a moment's thought. “And I like trains...” 

The Brass Blades stationed outside of the Gates paid the two of them passing mind. Looking at them for a second, registering they were drunkards, gauged they were harm to none, and returned to their nightly dealings. Murmuring to strange shadowy figures and “Keeping the peace.” 

Honestly, looking back, Danica would say they were lucky not to be stopped and taxed for some imaginary fee that only Drunken Elezen and Half Elezen needed to pay. As was the norm for the city of coin. But their temporary luck was not to hold for the morn. 

As the two stumbled towards the tracks, a small band of bandits strode towards them. A cruel laugh stopped the two drunkards in their tracks. Weapons slid free of their sheathes. “Well, what do we have here?” Danica reached for her spear. Aveline took a step towards them, star globe floating above her hand. “Two women having a shitty day.” She narrowed her eyes at the bandits, wobbling slightly as she spoke. The bandits laughed.

They laughed, for they did not yet know that they were fools. Dumb enough to stoll up to two armed women, who happened to also be Warriors of Light, drunk or no. Yet, they pressed on. Slowly surrounding the women, about fourteen of them in total, shadowy, near invisible, in the moonless night. 

The mischief from Voss’ eyes dissipated. Her grip on her spear, true. Though her eyes could not focus, she did not doubt she could still hit her mark. She was Danica Voss, Dragoon. She was Danica Voss, not about to get robbed right outside of the city she lived in. 

Their leader, a leggy gentlemen with an axe that looked like it weighed more than he, Aveline, and Danica put together, spoke again. “Fortunate we ran across them, am I right fellas?” His lackies, the shadowy men with swords and daggers, too blurry to make out any features, laughed and agreed. 

Their jeering continued, even as the not so gentlemanly gentlemen strode towards the two adventurers, who stood now but back to back. “What? Nothing to say ladies?” 

A twitch at Danica’s lip was all he saw before she lunged forward. Words slurred from her lips but declared proudly all the same.

“Taste my Lance”

Oh by the twelve she was quoting Estinien. And so the fight began. The bandits rushed towards the Warriors, weapons raised, anger burning in their eyes. The two women began fighting back with drunken earnest. They met the bandits blow for blow, metal clanging harshly. Aveline began to tire first, not adept in hand to hand combat. Stinging steel cut through the fabric of her shirt, grazing the Astrologian’s arm, blood welling in the wound. The Elezen’s eyes widened slightly, the blood soaking into her shirt turning the fabric a deep red. 

Voss, always the eagled eyed hunter, noticed as well. Hands tightening to a white knuckled grip on her spear. A scream of anger welling in her throat. That was until something caught her, and the bandit’s eye. A streaking splat of black and red, crystalized rage and hatred, beaming their leader right in the head.

It’s origin, a black masked knight of some kind, almost a shadow in the early morning. A greatsword drawn in his hands, a sternness in his stance. She’d read his face, but his helm was featureless. 

“Leave them.” She thought she heard him say, his voice muffled by his mask. Distracting the bandits enough that she could rush to her friends side. Ripping cotton from her shirt sleeve to offer the Astrologian.

Aveline offered her friend a pained smile, quickly shaking her head. The Astrologian gently placed her hand over the bleeding wound. Benefic. The healer’s hand glowed softly, the wounded skin knitting itself back together. 

As soon as the brief reprieve of the Knight’s arrival had began, it had ended. The bandits, torn between attacking the Warriors or the armour clad Knight. The Knight struck down the bandits with ease, the swinging of his greatsword causing blood to rain down upon the sand. His body moved with ease, striking down the bandits that dared not approach him with not so much as a second glance. 

Aveline looked anxiously at Danica, nervously grabbing her friend’s wrist. “I don’t trust this.”

“You don’t trust much.” Danica drunkenly attempted to reassure. The Half Elezen was use to bloodshed, use to death, this man wasn’t too much different than they were in battle. At least her drunken eyes told her. 

The remaining bandits turned tail not soon after their leader fell, those who managed to get out of the knights range continued running. A Dark Knight, yes, she remembered Fray speaking about others of their kind. Brutal. Effective. Justice at their core. This had to be one of them. 

Standing from her knee, Voss looked at the man more thoughoutly. She may not have been able to see his face, but from the ear molds on the helm he was an elezen. A tall one at that. She offered Aveline a hand before leaning upon her spear and speaking.

“Do you make a habit of saving every stranger on the road Ser Knight? Or is it just us ladies who get the special treatment?” She asked, sarcasm bleeding into her voice. Some point of wounded pride welling in her words, she should have been able to handle that. She was a warrior of light after all.

The man, for his part, sheathed his sword. Approaching them with a gentle step and open palm. “Are you injured?” More words muffled by his mask. 

Aveline stood, taking the hand Danica offered to her. “No.” She spoke cautiously, liquor infecting her voice. “Answer her question.” Her star globe floated carefully above her hand. “What are you doing here?”

The reply she got was muffled, dark steel muting his words slightly. “You needed help.” Aveline looked around at the bodies scattered around them, blood oozing into the sands. “Help? They were trying to run from you. You killed them!” Her voice grew higher in pitch ever so slightly. The Astrologian had no fear of blood or the dead, though she disliked being so close to the loss of life. Their aether joining Hydaelyn’s, twisting and turning, merging into one. The feeling disturbed her. The blood of the bandits was splattered all over the trio. She shook her head, turning to Danica, “I won’t trust him until we see his face. It’s too convenient.”

Danica relaxed, it was one of their key differences, if she had to think about it. The comfort the two had in the exact presence of death. “He’s right, we did need help. And if they didn’t die here I’m sure they would have preyed upon someone else. And last time I checked, none of us here are free from the particular sin of murder” 

They would have hit others, she was sure of it. And in some way, the knowledge that they wouldn’t because they now held court among Nald’thals judges relaxed her.

She’d seen their type before. Ran from them. Images of a young girl hiding with two others in the corners of Ul’dah flashed in her mind, she willed the image away. No time or energy to get consumed by the past. All that mattered was the now.

 “And we’re being overtly hostile to the gent who just saved our asses. Should we really be making demands?”  Voss hobbled over to a rock, and took a seat, but not before flashing her “Hero with a publicist” smile - to quote Tataru. 

“But, Ace, you do have one thing right. It’s easier to give thanks to someone when you know their name - or face.”  She raised a hand, and finger gunned in the general direction of the Dark Knight, who seemed to laugh. 

“I’m sorry if I startled you but, do you... I’m a...” He stumbled over his words. Voss could not stifle her drunken laugh. “But I’m.... You were!!!” Ah it only grew worse, she could imagine what ever Elezen face behind that mask just bright red in embarrassment. 

She could hear him inhale. Her senses forced to clear, through no will of her own. 

“I’m a Dark Knight. My name is Fuller. I wander and I help people.” He spoke, a Mantra. “People other people won’t help. Those people did you see them? Earlier, before. When you were at the gate, I was leaving too. I saw the Brass Blades point you lot out to them.” 

Voss nodded, a believable story, if ever there was one. Not unlike what befell the one poor man who tried to open a mining business for the Ala Mhigan Refuges, free of the yoke of the syndicate.  Danica looked to Aveline, and motions towards the man, as if to say he past her muster. 

The Astrologian took a deep breath, trying to clear her senses of the metallic smell of blood. She sat next to Danica, pulling her knees to her chest. Feeling the aether drain from people was never an enjoyable experience; Baelsar’s Wall had nearly broken her. 

She looked at the Knight carefully, “Fuller…” She smiled, though it looked as though she was trying not to grimace, “My apologies for my hostility. I… do not do well with death.” 

The Dark Knight planted the tip of his greatsword in the sand, moving towards them. With a smooth movement, he slipped into a low bow, “I am only glad I could help.” She could almost hear the smile in his voice. Aveline glanced at Danica. Was it time to move on? What would be the proper thing to do? All of Aveline’s training for navigating the nobility of Ishgard was failing her. What were they to do now?

Voss stood, eyes still a little wobbly. “So, city of coin and all would have us offer you a reward. But you can already tell we’re not at our peak condition. Why not walk us back into the Quicksand and we’ll repay you tomorrow when we can think clearly?”  She must have wobbled more than she intended, as she felt his arm upon her shoulder, righting her. 

“It would be an honor, Madams.” He bowed again, once he was sure she wouldn’t be falling sideways anytime soon. “But please, you’d need not repay me its-”

“Only your oath and way, you’re not our first rodeo with a Dark Knight stranger.” She laughed, remembering the others. Remembering themselves. She offered a hand to Aveline, and looked back towards the city. Momodi would kick their ass for putting themselves in danger like this, that is to say foolishly. But she would be glad to have them back safe. 

“What say you then, Ace? Maybe we could help him a bit or something tomorrow, fair pay yeah?” She asked, her words starting to run together again.

The Astrologian nodded silently, gathering up her things and taking Danica’s hand again. Her expression was pained. Someone wasn’t dead. One of the bandits twitched slightly, moaning on the ground. Aveline screwed her eyes shut. She could practically see the aether leaving his body, seeping into the earth. It was beautiful and horrifying, a sight she could never get used to. The Warrior turned back towards the city of Ul’dah, trying to leave the dying bandit behind her. After a long moment, she turned back and knelt next to the bleeding bandit. Gently taking his hand, she murmured softly. Repose. The bandit’s eyes slowly slipped shut. While the sight of his life leaving his body was no less horrifying, at least he was at peace.

[momomomodi]

Sad WoL Series pt. 1

~headcanon that this takes place after the Vault~

[momomomodi]

Aveline de Bontensont, Astrologian, Red Mage, and all-around goth sweetie

[mossbirdreigns]

Ave’s List of OCs

There may not be many but they’re here! (Most have links to their toyhouses or carrds for more lore/info) It should be noted that this post is very frequently in flux and changing.

Final Fantasy 14: 

Aveline (Ave) de Bontensont: A half-Miqo/half-Elezen fortune teller and field medic. Very bubbly, very sweet. Exists in the Rainbow Vanguard WoLverse as a WoL. Lydia Starfarer: A Viera mercenary for hire. Has a dog named Popoto. Very secretive about her past. Very kind, though more gritty and down to earth than Aveline. Amelie Laroux: A vampire violinist who enjoys the simpler things in life. Very formal initially, enjoys wine and long talks late at night. 

RDO: Maude Larkin:  A moonshiner from Emerald Ranch who works with her twin sister. Closeted lesbian. Very private and closed off, cold and unwelcoming. Soft hearted at the center of it all.

[momomomodi]

Sad WoL Series pt. 2

Some close ups of my sweet bby because i love her

[mossbirdreigns]

Taken July 12th, 2021 in Holminster’s Switch.

Some of the last shots I have of Aveline before my hiatus from FF.