#barring estiniens jumping

[fatedroses]

Adventurer Zenos and G'raha cause I had to draw my silly guys. I just enjoy the idea of Zenos hanging out with fellow bookworms and being begrudgingly (though occasionally willingly) helpful.

[dainesanddaffodils]

FFXIV WRITE 2024 DAY 13: BUTTE

Cimorene and Estinien plan some jumps | Post-Dawntrail, spoiler-light | Rated G | 425 words

(We’re insanely fluffy again today lmao)

“I hate this,” Cimorene says, the whine in her voice only somewhat put on for affect.

“So you’ve said,” her lover returns dryly.

She attempts to glare at him but her lips twitch up in spite of herself. “It just- it looks so beautiful up there.”

Up there is the top of a tall rocky outcropping in the middle of the arid Shaaloani landscape. It’s not an easy thing to climb but for an erstwhile Azure Dragoon - or two - the view from its plateau is a mere leap away.

Or would be, if Cimorene hadn’t been advised by numerous healers in her life that attempting her usual abilities would not be advisable, so late in her pregnancy as she is.

Estinien looks away from the destination currently barred from her, to meet her gaze. “It still astounds me that you’re the same person who once said she didn’t like heights.”

“Ages ago, before you corrupted me.”

“Is that what we’re calling it.”

She snorts. “And one could say you’re also why I’m stuck down here, too.”

“Now, I refuse to take all the blame for that,” he huffs. She laughs and he shakes his head, returning to eyeing the rise in the earth and the clouds beginning to go orange with sunset. “I… could carry you.”

Cimorene blinks. “Are you sure?”

“You barely weigh anything as is; I can’t see it being an issue,” he says, then pauses. “Unless you think it would still be an issue? If you don’t think we should push it…”

It still astounds her, the way Estinien’s voice goes soft when he speaks of their future child, and the concern he shows. It’s not surprise necessarily - she knows better than most how kind he truly is - but to hear him put it to words, even small sentiments like that, will always make her heart melt.

“Perhaps not… that one,” she says at last, resting her hand on her stomach and thinking of what Y’shtola would say if her orders to ‘rest before the baby comes’ were in anyway disobeyed. “There were some smaller ones by the the station to the north. I think that’s doable.”

Estinien accepts this with a nod. “One way to find out. Shall we?”

Without waiting, he stoops to hook his arm under her legs and lift her up in his arms. She squeaks. “I didn’t - you didn’t need to carry me all the way there!”

“Too late,” he says, audibly grinning.

She rolls her eyes, turns her face into his shoulder, and doesn’t argue anymore.

[velnica]

FFXIV Write 2023: #26 Last

Explicit | Sanson/Guydelot | 1691 words

A/N: Part of Singing Along to the Start of Forever, my Modern AU. Mentions of sexting, sending nudes and delicious things the boys get up to when they can’t sleep in the same bed.

The first time Sanson had sent him a mildly suggestive pic, Guydelot’s heart rate had jumped several beats. He’d been away on a concert tour in Thanalan and missing Sanson terribly that the mere sight of Sanson’s bare chest, grainy and poorly-lit, nearly sent him into a complete tailspin. Of course he’d joked about partners sending their musician boyfriends something nice while they were away, but never in a million years did he imagine Sanson would actually do it.

There was decidedly a lot of sexting in their chat history that night, raising the bar for their long distance sex life.

The first time Sanson sent him an actual nude was the first time they had video sex. It was Sanson’s turn to spend a few days away for an interview. Not far, just to Castrum Oriens in Ala Mhigo for a research piece on the Autumn War. Guydelot had been throwing some bachelor’s dinner together of pies and chips when a picture of Sanson, clearly naked in his hotel bed, appeared on his screen. Immediately he pressed the video call button and needless to say his dinner was cold by the time he ate it.

The first time Sanson had sent him a lewd photo, he was on stage in Ishgard and didn’t see it until well past bedtime. Worse, he couldn’t do anything about it on account of sharing a room with Estinien and Aymeric—he’d never live it down if they found out. The earliest he could be alone was before lunch the next day, when he furiously stroked himself to a picture of Sanson gripping his cock until he came hard under the warm shower. When he saw Heustienne in a cafe nearby afterwards, she'd just looked at his flushed face and teased him until the tips of his ears were on fire.

Sisterly instinct was a terrifying thing indeed.

That night he sent back an equally explicit picture and a new tradition was born: for every night that they were apart they would take turns sending a photo, and the recipient would either have to video call back if their time zones aligned, or they'd have to describe—in great detail—their reaction.

Well, it turned out that Sanson, if he really wished to, would make a great erotica writer. So much for him thinking he had no gift for verses—each successive line he sent made Guydelot's collar hotter and hotter and by the time he finished reading he couldn’t even remember what good sex felt like before Sanson entered his life.

They continued this tradition for a while, both enjoying this new phase of their relationship, until that one fateful day when Guydelot thought he was going to have a stroke in broad daylight.

It was far too early in the morning and they’d just arrived at their hotel in Kugane. Fjora was talking—in perfect Hingan—to the concierge whilst everyone else slouched on the available sofas after more than half a day of flying. Guydelot had collapsed next to Ysayle, who was trying her best to fan herself with her boarding pass. True to her nickname, the ice queen was having decidedly less than great time dealing with the sweltering Hingan summer. Only Estinien seemed to be wholly unbothered by it though he’d kept his hair up in a bun anyway to combat the heat.

Fjora’s voice suddenly sounded a little tight and Guydelot grimaced, though he had no idea what was happening, it was clear that there was an issue or two about their rooms. With a sigh he pulled out his phone and connected it to the free hotel wi-fi; might as well browse some trashy news while he waited for everything to get sorted.

The connection had scarcely been established when his phone suddenly buzzed. ‘Don’t open until you’re alone’ the message had said. It then buzzed again and a blurry preview image came up. He grinned. Right, he’d been away technically overnight, and Sanson obviously couldn’t wait to send this picture. Oh, this should be good. He debated excusing himself away but one: he had his back towards a wall and two: everyone else was too busy browsing their phones too so he angled himself even more away from his bandmates, threw caution to the wind and clicked on the preview.

A loading bar appeared and Guydelot realised it was a video instead of a photo. Well, this was new, Sanson had never sent him one before; he always maintained that he didn’t like hearing his voice recorded. The bar filled up a few seconds later and it started playing automatically, showing a close-up of Sanson’s very much naked body.

His choker suddenly felt a size too small.

The camera shook for a moment as Sanson fiddled with it. Once he was happy with the position he moved away, showing Guydelot a backdrop of their bedroom. They’d finally decided to move Guydelot proper into Sanson’s room, and sealed the deal by going bed shopping together. Warmth seeped into Guydelot’s chest as he remembered how he’d flopped onto their new mattress, giddy at finally having enough space for his limbs to spread and stretch only to find Sanson looking at him with deep adoring eyes. He had smiled then and in return Sanson climbed atop him and kissed him thoroughly until he lost all sense of time.

They baptised their new bed multiple times that night.

Sanson re-entered the frame and sat on the bed. He straightened his legs, showing Guydelot a perfect view of his toned abs and thighs… and his proud, erect cock.

Guydelot’s cheeks burned and he wished his uncomfortably tight jeans could magically disappear right then.

There was a flutter of noises as Sanson rummaged for something behind him and when his hand came back into view, Guydelot audibly choked. Sanson was holding a turquoise-coloured dildo, which glistened with lube in the low light of their bedside table. Slowly he reached down between his legs with his other hand, slipping his fingers into himself with a sigh, stretching and prepping so he could comfortably take on the sizeable toy. His mouth dropped open in pleasure and when they moved, Guydelot could hear his name clearly as if Sanson was right there—

He turned his screen off and slammed his phone down, heart racing a malm a minute. His breaths came out hard and hot through his nose and his face felt like it was on fire. His throat was drier than the desert. His nerve endings buzzed incessantly, like he had far too much energy and no outlet for it to go.

Gods, what the fuck was Sanson thinking? How could Guydelot act like a normal person after seeing… after seeing THAT.

Next to him Ysayle scrunched her brows in concern. “You alright? You look like you just ran a bloody marathon.”

Aymeric piped up, “Did Sanson send you an angry message or something? That was him, right?”

Fuck fuck fuck, he forgot to lower his volume—

Hearing their voices Estinien perked up. He scanned Guydelot up and down, zeroed in on his extremely flushed cheeks, noticed the way he’d put away his phone as if he’d been burned and then smirked.

“Oh, he wished he was running a marathon right now.”

Guydelot wanted to glare at Estinien but all he could muster in his frazzled state was a squeak. Shite, he’d definitely given himself away now.

Estinien’s smirk deepened and he opened his mouth for another teasing, but thank every deity in the universe, Fjora walked in at that exact moment, delaying Guydelot’s doom.

“Managed to convince them to speed up our check in for a reasonable fee. I’m sure you’re all dying to get in the warm shower—what’s so funny Esti?”

“Oh nothing,” Estinien snickered, “Hey Aymeric, mind if I crash in your room for a minute? Need to see if your upgraded pad is worth the money for next time.”

Aymeric stared at him confusedly, “Uh, sure.”

“Excellent. So which room key is whose?” he asked Fjora, who just tilted her head in pure confusion but handed out the keys anyway. Ysayle had her own room, whilst Fjora and Haurchefant had theirs. Guydelot and Estinien were bunking together whilst Aymeric decided to splash out this one time and got a room with a view. All set up the group piled into the lift.

Just before it stopped on their floor, Estinien slung one arm around Guydelot’s shoulder and whispered mischievously into his ear, “You owe me one.”

Guydelot nodded his thanks, hoping he didn’t look far too eager doing it. Estinien just released and pushed him towards the door with a wink. “If you’re gonna have a shower, it better be free when I get back.”

“If that’s the case, don’t get back for another hour—at least,” he clapped back. The last thing he heard before the elevator closed was Estinien’s howling laugh, and Ysayle chiding him for making excessive noise this early in the morning.

As soon as he was alone, Guydelot sprinted towards their room. Hurriedly he opened the door before throwing his bag onto the luggage bench atop his already delivered suitcase. His shoes and clothes followed and then he dove into bed, phone clutched tightly in his hand like a lifeline. Heart still racing he turned the screen on and was greeted by the lovely view again. He wound back a few seconds and pressed play, and this time there was no need to hide anything.

“Guydelot…” Sanson moaned as he pumped his fingers in preparation.

Guydelot gulped loudly and grabbed his own cock. He wondered why Sanson didn’t like hearing his own voice so much, to him it sounded like the most beautiful music ever created. Another moan rumbled through the speaker and he let himself be carried away towards bliss. Oh, Sanson needs to reenact this video in person when Guydelot gets home, he’d beg if he had to.

The dildo came into view again and a brilliant idea popped into his head. Guydelot smirked wickedly.

He was definitely gifting Sanson a silicone moulding kit for their anniversary.

[whatsthisascianbullshit]

MUIREANN UAIS - TRUST

Selection: “So! What are we waiting for?”

Job(s): Caster DPS (SMN with a blend of some SCH actions)

ARCANE HISTORIAN

Weapon: Allagan augmented grimoire – with the complexity needed for increasingly powerful summons, trances, and weaving in Nymian Scholar techniques to the Allagan Summoner ones, Muireann has worked with alchemists to augment her grimoire with Allagan computing technology to maintain her summons while she casts spells.

Muireann is typically accompanied by a ruby carbuncle, or by Selene.

AI Behaviour:

Muireann stays close to the healer without putting them in direct danger of AoEs targeted towards her.

SCH actions are mainly limited to shields but she will throw a heal out if a party member is below 35% (Tank & DPS) or 50% (healer).

Canon + WoL: she will prioritise protecting Y’shtola before other party members

Including wolparty: she will prioritise protecting Raer, Shin, Y’shtola, and Match in that order before other party members.

As the grimoire augmentation means that she has greater mobility, Muireann will use instant cast spells when moving to avoid boss/mob mechanics

For ultimate attacks/high damage room-wide attacks, Muireann will summon Seraph for big shields and regens.

Muireann will only LB when the boss is at 5% or less and Raer is not the other DPS in the party.

Exception: if Estinien is the other DPS in the party she will fight his AI for it once the bar is full, regardless of boss health

Muireann will only raise the healer in the party and saves her swiftcast to be able to do so quickly.

She does no assisting or mitigation during her damage burst window. This takes priority over any other behaviour.

Unique Actions:

Levin-strike: for LB1 and LB2, Muireann calls down a thunderstrike by channelling Ramuh through a trance rather than the typical caster LB1/2

Battle Lines:

Starting attack line: “Stay close!”

Special skill variation 1: “I will not be outdone!”

Special skill variation 2: “Ha! Just as expected”

Assisting an ally (shield): “Careful now!”

Assisting an ally (heal): “I think not.”

Assisting an ally (res): “I shan’t lose another!”

Limit Break 1: “Not one step more!”

Limit Break 2: “Your judgement is come!”

Limit Break 3: (screams)

KO variation 1: “Always the back…”

KO variation 2: “Damn this body”

Revived variation 1: “Let’s not mention this.”

Revived variation 2: “My thanks”

Bonus:

Muireann will remark on a dungeon’s design and construction, whether that is through observations on architecture or finer detail work.

If in a dungeon with Allagan technology she will fall back a bit as the party moves through it while out of combat, pondering what information could be gleaned from it.

In Dohn Meg she walks the tightrope as far as the first corner and then jumps the gap by sprouting aetheric Bahamut wings

If the WoL emotes at her she will respond with a similar emote or /cheer

She sits down and plays with her carbuncle if WoL is inactive while out of combat for 1min

-------

This was an old tag game going around a while ago and seeing as I can't do the gposing I was planning on I figured I'd try finish this up and it was a lot more done than I thought!!

Wolparty mentioned: Match @a-soul-full-of-stars Raer @azure-dragonsinger and Shin @accidentaloracle

Tagging: an open tag for anyone who wants to resurrect the old trend with me ^o^

[rabbitr]

FFXIVwrite: 20. duel

"Have you a moment?" Estinien asked. With sand on his boots and seabreeze at his back, the lone dragoon inclined his head at Fereniel. "It's been a while."

Fereniel huffed, stride matching Estinien's. They wandered Tuliyollal as lit by lantern-flame, weaving through the late-night crowd. The colorful stalls and vibrant atmosphere reminded Fereniel much of Radz-at-Han. Walking with Estinien, his lance-point high above his head drawing curious looks as Fereniel went unnoticed, brought them back to that time.

Eyes traced the path as Estinien led Fereniel out of the city proper. The trees rustled in night, amphibians croaking in chorus. Fereniel cracked their knuckles when they heard Estinien draw his spear. "So that's how this is?"

"Aye," said Estinien, and lunged.

After that, there was little room for talk. Since walking into Gulool Ja Ja's throneroom and seeing Estinien go toe-to-toe with the old king, Fereniel wanted to go against the dragoon. No holds barred, only pulling their punches for crippling injuries. In Eorzea, the ruckus of that kind of duel would spread like wildfire, inviting questions neither Fereniel or Estinien cared to answer.

No one knows their names in Tural - not the true weight of them at least.

Refreshing, and with Gulool Ja Ja helpfully playing barometer to their relative levels of strength, Fereniel felt only excitement at seeing where this went.

Though, Fereniel thought, the issue is who catches who first. Both of them were built for speed, looking for the momentary weakness in the other's form. Fereniel couldn't reach Estinien mid-jump and the distance was not so easily crossed. Estinien, on the other hand, was served best by not getting close where Fereniel could slam blindingly fast blows at him.

It was Estinien who slipped first. Not reckless - but the way a dragoon fought was all in risking an ilm to take a malm. His eyes narrowed, seeking to push his momentary offensive.

Fereniel stepped into the barrage. They swept their leg out as Estinien move to extend his, locking behind his knee and dragging him. Inside his guard, Fereniel brought arm and elbow to bear, slamming into Estinien's chest. They toppled, Fereniel's forearm on Estinien's neck.

"Yield," he rasped, coughing quietly.

"Accepted," Fereniel responded. They pulled him onto his feet, ignoring the lacerations all over their body. Armorless as any monk would be, Fereniel began to reget it. Ordinarly, Fereniel was quick enough to dodge. Estinien was another beast entirely.

Estinien leaned on them. He tenderly slung an arm over his smarting ribs. "I suppose you're one up."

"Who says this happens again?" Fereniel scoffed.

[tritoch]

returning to this take to expand it a little post-dawntrail. spoilers through 7.0 under the break.

like, i've talked about this in another post, but you already had the coolest fight ever. your one true rival/evil double/relentless stalker fought you in an incredible battle at the end of the universe where the very force of your will and your hot-blooded emotions forge reality. your conflagration scorched even the stars. then you did a patch sequence where the main thing you did was teach a voidsent the human emotion called friendship and then watched her kick ass.

and now? now you're taking a break, going on vacation. it comes up pretty repeatedly in dawntrail that people can't always immediately eyeball you as the strongest person around. those who do often have some extra layer of intel and knowledge. like, the other claimants know it, but not all their mooks do. the job quest NPCs don't know. even estinien is like, yeah GJJ, you might not realize it just from looking at them, but my buddy here is the coolest fighter around. to me, this doesn't make a ton of sense if you're carrying around like, a fuckoff axe, or a big glowing gun. it makes perfect sense, though, if you look like a simple traveling healer.

then there's the GJJ of it all. after his solo duty, he has three different lines for the various roles after he fights you.

"I had to judge for myself whether you were fit to attend my beloved daughter. In some respects, she is much like me: hot-headed and prone to run into danger. But one with your..."

"...talents could readily dispatch the threats that bar Lamaty'i's way." (DPS)

"...adamant defense could shield Lamaty'i from those who would do her harm." (Tank)

"...healing touch could sustain Lamaty'i even as she does battle with the most fearsome of foes." (Healing)

Now, setting aside DPS getting the line with the lamest descriptor (talents???), I would say you only actually really get to do one of these in Dawntrail! You don't dispatch the threats barring Wuk Lamat's way, you largely set her up to face them in the best circumstances possible (indeed, at several points you very pointedly hang back). You don't shield her from those who would do her harm, either, especially since she basically jumps in and duels The Queen Eternal for you up front. And also like five seconds after this line you let her get kidnapped. Whoops!

You do, however, offer your healing touch! Pretty repeatedly! You're there to hear her concerns during the Rite, to grieve with and comfort her after her father's death and the attack on Tuliyollal, to support her against Zoraal Ja, to send Sphene into the afterlife with her. She's a tank! She's literally a warrior! You're her pocket support, there to keep her going when the going gets tough.

(also, basically all of Living Memory and the Interphos is one big Sending. Real FFX-heads know.)

I also think this makes a lot of your "cool" moments in Dawntrail...a lot better? Like, distracting Bakool Ja Ja with just your dauntless stride and defiant stare is a hell of a lot cooler if you do it as a healer instead of a fully-armored tank, and then Thancred leaping in for the blow doesn't feel like it's stealing your thunder. Similarly, if you're the tank or DPS, having Eliminator and Sphene identify you as the greatest threat is kind of like, yeah man, I know, I'm the guy who drops meteors on people/summons my enormous dragon ghost to hit you/Fell Cleaves. Obviously I'm the toughest guy.

But if the computer is like "shit, i would've won if not for this fucking healer"? mmmm, that's the stuff. Sphene being like "idk you look like a girl with yu-gi-oh cards to me but the computer says you're the strongest so now we're fighting"? oh yeah. and wuk lamat's like "WAIT NO YOU CAN'T STRAND THE HEALER AND FIGHT THEM SOLO" except you're the warrior of light. they totally can.

plus, if the azem crystal is duty finder, there's only one possible reason it queues so fast.

I understand why it'll never happen from a marketing perspective, but honestly Dawntrail should've been the first expansion with trailer Meteor in a healing job. This is an expansion for healer mains.

[keicordelle]

A Test of Endurance

Fandom: FFXIV Rating: E Pairing: Estimeric Word Count: 6.5k Tags: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Consent, Semi-Public Sex, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Teasing, Overstimulation, POV First Person, POV Estinien Wyrmblood

Summary: Estinien wasn't entirely sure at first if Aymeric's display was meant to leave him flushed with desire in the middle of the Temple Knights training grounds, but the longer it goes on, the more clear it is that a game is afoot. Fortunately for Estinien, Aymeric has a plan, and it certainly doesn't involve leaving his flustered lover suffering from his teasing torment for long.

-

The training grounds were far more public than the Lord Commander's office, under the clear blue sky and with Temple Knights working themselves into a sweaty lather on training dummies and in dueling pairs. So I really wasn't sure if Aymeric's display was intended to make me so stiff I butted painfully against my armor, or if it was actually an innocent coincidence. Had it been anyone else, I would have been fairly certain of the former, watching out of the corner of my eye as yet another piece of his armor was cast aside, his chest bared to the world and glistening with sweat. I had never known him to strip down during training - he'd always been the first to argue that you're not going to be able to remove for armor in combat, so it was best to get used to fighting in it - but perhaps he was simply hot today. Never mind the arctic chill that swirled through the air, promising a blizzard later even if there was hardly a cloud in the sky at the moment.

Quickly enough that I would have missed it had I not been staring like a fool, Aymeric's eyes darted over to where I was standing as he mopped sweat from his brow. Ah, so it was a game then. My how he had changed in my absence. A small smile played over his lips as his attention returned back to the knight he was speaking with. My gaze followed Aymeric's hand as he lowered it, trailing a sensual path down his chest under the auspices of wiping away a drip that rolled just past his nipple. I licked my lips, shifting my stance to try to make some space for the aching erection now straining to burst free from my breeches, but short of doffing far more of my armor than was reasonable, there was little I could do to adjust. Confining as it was, at least the metal meant my condition was not glaringly obvious.

"Estinien!" someone snapped for what I gathered was not the first time.

Tearing my attention away from the flushed skin of my lover, so similar to the shade it got when he was spread beneath me - and dear gods that was not a safe train of thought - I focussed on dragoon facing me. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

He sighed in exasperation. "I said, if you're not going to use the dummy, could you please move."

I considered protesting, but in truth he was right: I was taking up space and not doing much in the way of actual training. Lifting my lance from its aggressive position, I backed away, gesturing for him to take my place. That at least earned me a nod of acknowledgement, if not gratitude, as the man assumed his own fighting stance.

I contemplated correcting his form, but as I was not fully sure I could jump properly with a steel bar jammed between by legs, I instead circled to the pitchers of water in their frosted vessels. My eyes drifted back to Aymeric as I poured myself a glass, half hoping the chill would shock me back into fighting form. The larger half, the one that had stolen all the blood my brain needed to make sane decisions and concentrated it into the throbbing between my legs, watched the play of the sunlight over the muscles of my lover's back as he swung his sword, blunted edge striking home against his opponent. Did he plan to make good on this show he was putting on for me, or was tormenting me his only goal? If it is, he's achieving it in spades, I thought, shifting again in discomfort.

Muscles rippled as he moved, a red welt blossoming where he let a strike through his defenses, and sweat dripped from his skin. The desire to lick it off him swelled, and I kept my feet firmly rooted in place, hand clenching around my lance until the joints of my gauntlets dug painfully into my fingers. I had no doubt the others on the grounds had noticed my staring and that by dinner tonight the rumor mill would be churning with stories of how the Azure Dragoon had the hots for the Lord Commander. That didn't bother me overmuch, but the part of my brain still capable of intelligent thought wondered if Aymeric had thought this game through all the way.

-

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[theworldwalkerswols]

The Warrior of Light and his Loves

A Kyler & Polycule Playlist

Pied Piper by The Senate | Kyler & Thancred - The Forgotten Knight

Video note: the song ends at 4:00. There's a long tail of cheering, etc.

The Forgotten Knight, interior. The atmosphere is lively and jubilant.

The Scions present are tipsy at the least, and Kyler is decidedly drunk; Gibrillont, knowing his concerns re: accepting drinks, has been bringing him his rather than letting anyone else do it. Kyler knows that Gibrillont tests everything he serves himself and isn't letting anyone else pour his drinks or even touch them. People have figured this out, and at this point the Savior of Ishgard could drink for free for a fortnight with all the money folk have put forth to keep him watered.

The downstairs patrons overflow the lower level. Someone starts playing music. Things get decidedly lively, and it inspires more folk up to listen and even dance. For the first time, the whole of the Forgotten Knight is packed with noble and commoner both, all mixed up together. Hilda and her two main men end up upstairs somewhere.

Thancred says something about this feeling like old times, and Y'shtola tells him he must be so out of practice that he's no proper Bard at all anymore. She knows full well she's provoking him. He knows it too, but he takes the bait.

Thancred calls for a lute, someone gives him one, he tunes it, stands and puts a boot on the seat of his chair, and starts playing.

"Kyler?" he calls out over the din of the crowd.

"Thancred??" he answers back, half a tankard of ale in one hand, and he manages to weave his way over near him.

Thancred raises his eyebrows, tilts his head at him, eggs him on. "Kyler?" he says again.

The opening bars are swiftly coming to a close. In his drunken state, Kyler's mind tells him 'if I don't sing it, no one will.' Unwilling to leave Thancred hanging, he steps up onto the table.

Kyler sings:

Well, there's a wolf among the sheep he's been talkin in his sleep he's denyin every word he's ever said

The path is short, the bricks are red the pilgrim bowed and cracked his head

He mimes a bow,

on the cobbled stones of conscience where the cowards dare to tread

He puts a hand up by his mouth, leaning to one side as though telling a secret,

And if I don't mean what I say don't take me for a liar - I'm the pied piper, the rebel town crier! Follow me down to the sea and follow where you will follow me to madness or let the water stand still

Kyler knocks back the end of his drink (to wide approval), lets out a piercing whistle, and tosses the empty tankard to Gibrillont behind the bar, who catches it without missing a beat.

By this point, Aymeric, Haurchefant, and Estinien have been fetched by Francel. Up on the packed balcony-entrance to the tavern, they have a clear view of the scene below, unbeknownst to Kyler. He sings,

He's been taught to turn his cheek tellin lies since he could speak he's been blinded by the light since he could see says, "Lord have mercy, glory be! Tell me what you mean to me if your most beloved angel won't be reconciled to thee!"

And if I don't mean what I say don't take me for a liar -

Kyler leans back and belts out, mimicking a crier and pointing at Hilda, who stands on something near the back wall; she whoops back at him and pumps her fist as he sings,

I'm the pied piper, the rebel town crier! Follow me down to the sea and follow where you will follow me to madness or let the water stand still

Kyler performs a brief stepdance on the table, the steps he learned from the Bloody Executioners in Limsa. He's out of practice and sloppy, but it's charming. He jumps down from the table.

Somewhere in the midst of all this, Eudestand, Hilda's left-hand Mongrel, has stepped up with another lute; he watches enough to identify the chords and then plays the rhythm part.

Thancred steps up, one boot on his chair and one on the table, now, to play the solo, focused and intense. He nails it, to broad approval.

Amidst all this, Alphinaud finds his way to Kyler's side, and Kyler throws an arm around his shoulders. Alphinaud delivers him water, which he gladly drinks. As Thancred's solo comes to a close, Kyler steps back up onto the table to sing:

Well, now the wolf has had his fill left me here, atop the hill with a secret that I'm not prepared to keep

But when I'm gone, my lips are sealed:

Here he holds a finger before his lips in a 'shh' motion,

won't you take me to the field? Won't you break the earth at sunset, won't you leave the buried deep?

Kyler crosses his forearms over his chest, hands in fists, mimicking how some corpses are laid to rest, almost a forceful gesture, but brief. He turns to Thancred and they focus on each other, listening hard and queueing off one another to sing in harmony,

And if I don't mean what I say don't take me for a liar - I'm the pied piper, the rebel town crier! Follow me down to the sea and follow where you will follow me to madness or let the water stand still!

Kyler jumps down from the table and dances with Alphinaud and Tataru, who has also appeared, spinning them both, one with each hand, on the final chord, and bursts out laughing after.

It's only the next day, once he's nursing a hangover and no longer drunk, that Kyler's shyness catches up to him. He is more mortified than he has ever been in his living memory.

He is not seen in Ishgard for a week, and not in the Forgotten Knight for a fortnight at least.

--

I wasn't planning on writing out the whole scene as a script but here we are!! I regularly consider doing a comic of this but let's be real, that's too much work for meeeeee

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed!

The “he” in this has always, in my mind, also been Thordan VII. :)

[yukiotacon]

Heyo!! *slides into bar* can I request a marriage proposal? Possibly from Aymeric, Estinien and Thancred?

Proposal hcs

Aymeric

He is pulls out all the stops

A little traditional

Yeah, he definitely asks Count Edmont for his blessing

Aymeric takes you out to a fancy dinner

He maybe calm on the outside,but he is so nervous on the inside

His hands get clammy while you guys hold hands

Aymeric takes you to a secluded part of the city after dinner

The view was absolutely amazing

Imagine Ishgard at night, the lamp lights ablaze giving it the view an extra splash of color and warmth

As you take it the view, you didn't notice him going down on one knee

You froze in surprise after you turned around

" My love , will you marry me?" Aymeric says with hopeful eyes

Of course you said yes

In that moment, you both share a passionate kiss among the Ishgardian city lights

Estinien

He had to ask for help from his greatest enemy ( Tataru)

Immediately regrets telling Tataru ( His ear drums didn't exactly recover from her squealing)

Vtra helped Estinien by having his best craftsmen work on the ring

Estinien has the ring. Now he needs to propose

Tataru suggests a picnic somewhere beautiful

He scouted perfect locations for weeks

For once in his life, Estinien was stressing on something

Thankfully, Vtra helped him again by narrowing the list ( I mean Vtra knows Thavanair like the back of his talons)

The promise day arrives, Thankfully nothing bad happened during your picnic at night

Estinien heart of beating out of his chest

Hell even Nidhogg was telling him to calm down

You suggested watching the stars for a bit

Imagine this, You and Estinien laying together on a picnic blanket watching the stars

You nestled on top of his chest

His arm protectively around you

You both lay there in blissful silence. Till you decided to look up at him

" Marry me " Estinien says in a quiet and gentle voice

The moment you said yes, it felt like his heart was for once in his life full

You share a sweet kiss with Estinien under the stars

Thancred

We all know his proposal was gonna be memorable

What did you didn't expect was for him to propose to you during battle

Here you were helping Thancred out on a little side job of his and during that moment of adrenaline he pops the question

Imagine this, You and Thancred coming off a thrilling Job. He looks at you with the eyes of a man who knows exactly what he wants.

Of course, you look at Thancred with loving eyes , which spurs Thancred to jump

" Marry me y/n" Thancred says with such love and admiration

To honest, you thought he was jesting. Till he holds your hand in his. He asks again this time you blush heavily

You turn your face away from him

Thancred bristles thinking he offended yoh

You slowly turn your blushing face back to him

The moment he hears yes coming from you, he picks you up bridal style and gives you the most passionate kiss ever

In that moment, Thancred vows to you that he would make you the happiest girl in the world.

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2021 #11: Preaching to the Choir

Estinien was one of the few who would think to look up and so found Aeryn, arms wrapped around her drawn-up legs, staring out into the sky as she sat upon one of the higher parapets of Revenant’s Toll.

It was nothing for him to Jump up to that level, landing lightly on the small platform behind her. She did not acknowledge him, but she knew he was there.

He settled somewhat catty-corner to her, side of his shoulder against the back of hers, his long legs hanging off the side, and he waited, enjoying the wind and the quiet this high up.

Soon enough she shifted, and he adjusted his arm so it draped over her back while she leaned on him.

“You’re still handling this better than I did,” he said.

“That’s a low bar,” she replied.

He huffed out a laugh. “True, and I know it.” He idly rubbed her left arm as they continued to sit, the sun setting slowly. “Can’t stay up here all night, though.”

“Technically we can.”

“Yes, but Thancred might try to scale the tower if you do. Urianger and Y’shtola might make the token effort to restrain him, but then they’ll be taking bets on how long he takes to fall and crack his stubborn skull.”

“You’re the worst.”

“And yet you insist upon my company.”

“You came up here to me.”

“Because you shouldn’t be alone right now. I know.”

The sun continued to sink, the cloudy sky growing redder and redder. He reflected it was a poor time for the weather here to be clear for once.

“At least you didn’t try to kill him,” Estinien said.

Aeryn pushed off Estinien’s side, returning to her drawn-in position, though next to him still. He frowned and watched her. “Aeryn?”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about it,” she whispered. “Just for a tick; it just...just was there, amidst the anger and pain and.” Her face scrunched up, trying to prevent tears. “How could he keep this from me? After everything?”

“After me, you mean,” Estinien said. “Perhaps because of me. Because he could not go through that again.”

“To hells with him going through it,” she snapped, then sucked in an annoyed breath at herself.

“I understand,” Estinien replied, putting his arm around her again and pulling her close once more. She mrf’d and pressed her face against his chest, letting out a scream that reverberated through his frame, muffled by his clothes. He stroked her back. “I know.”

He let her lean against him, trembling in his embrace, his own eyes watching as the sun slipped below the horizon finally. “So what now?” He asked as the stars woke in the cloud-dashed sky.

“I dunno,” she muttered, still pressed against his chest. Aeryn let out a frustrated grumble and shifted, until she was leaning back against him now, unwilling to give up the close embrace. He merely adjusted his arms about her shoulders, his hands resting over her stomach. “Avengret needs to be dealt with. She’s preaching violence and suckering in disenfranchised people, outcasts with nowhere to go, lost in this new world post-war. There’s a...fanaticism about her, and her followers. I’m not sure she’ll listen to reason.”

“I doubt you had much chance to try. And if she sees you as one of her whelplings, not much incentive for her to listen, either,” Estinien said.

“I’m not,” Aeryn insisted.

“I merely speak from mine own understanding.” He shrugged just enough to annoyingly jostle her. He smiled a little when she made the whine he’d been looking for and readjusted her seat. “We may not be able to change Avengret’s perception of reality, to accept this new world you and Alphinaud made possible.”

“He hears you say that he’ll be blushing and arguing about it for a sennight. Alisaie’ll tease him the whole time.”

“Remind me to repeat it within the twins’ hearing, then,” Estinien replied, silently pleased when she huffed out a brief laugh. “Point is, we either need a way to defend you from her Song, or you need to not deal with her at all.”

“I can’t leave this to Alberic and X’rhun, or even Heustienne. Avengret could kill them. Especially if she brings in her private little army of dragons and heretics.”

“So you don’t want Alberic to die, then?”

“No more than you do,” she said immediately. “But I’m going to be angry with him for a while.”

Estinien smiled sadly. “I understand,” he said again.

He hated that it was true, for both of them.

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

Green

Agnes/Estinien. Agnes takes Estinien to a pub and has no clue everyone is flirting with her. Oh dear. 

Despite her own feelings on the matter, Agnes was the center of attention one evening while out with Estinien in the Black Shroud. She had taken Estinien to meet Buscarron and have a nice evening at the Druthers, but several old adventuring friends also happened to be there and wanted to catch up. And then there were some friends from the Conjurer’s Guild. And then fellow Serpents who wanted say hello. This is a bit much. What I wouldn’t give to grab Estinien and run…

Meanwhile, her beloved was in a corner and on his fourth ale, watching her like a hawk.

“Oi Agi! It’s been a while!” Theron, a midlander hyuran warrior, called out as she paid for another water from Buscarron.

“Oh hello Theron! Yes, it has. How have you been?”

“Good, good. And you’re looking good yourself.” He winked.

That’s so nice of him to say! Agnes smiled. “Thank you! You in the Twelveswood for a job?”

“Aye, getting some green magic folk through Tam-Tara. You should come along! We could use a veteran healer, and the pay is good. Besides, it’ll be good to have you by my side once more.”

“That’s very generous, Theron, truly…” Agnes said as she tried to locate Estinien in the crowd. “But I’m rather occupied both at the moment and with other jobs.” Like being the fucking Warrior of Light, mate.

“What a shame, Agi. I’d love to have one of your regens.” His hand slipped around her waist, and Agnes froze. What?! What is he doing?! I’m not…I…no! No!

“Take your hand off her before you lose it.” A cold, deep voice murmured from next to Theron.

Uh oh, there’s Estinien. “I—”

“And just who do you think you are? Agi’s an old friend, and she’s about to come sit with me, weren’t you Agi?”

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh no? “Erm, Theron, actually—”

“I’ll give you five seconds for you to remove your hand from my lady before I skewer you with my lance and leave your corpse for the animals outside.”

Oh dear. Oh no. Let’s not do this.

Theron, a fulm shorter than Estinien, puffed his chest. “My lady? Agi, are you with this arrogant prick?”

A blush crept onto her face. “Theron, yes, Estinien and I—”

“One.”

“You cannot be serious! HIM?”

“Two.”

“Theron, seriously just let it go. It was lovely seeing—”

“Three.”

“Agi, him? Him? His neck’s too long, and my axe could break him in one fell swoop.”

“Four.”

“Theron, please…” Ooooooh this is bad.

“I’ll save your countdown, ser. Theron, Agi’s with this man so try your luck with any of the other ladies and let her and her man have some bloody peace and quiet.” Buscarron said, arms crossed over his chest.

To Agnes’s immense relief, Theron nodded and walked away.

“I don’t take kindly to threatening others in my establishment, Ser Estinien. That’s your only warning---out of my immense respect for Agi.” Buscarron went back behind the bar with a nod to Agnes, who stood mutely with her glass of water.

When she felt Estinien’s hand on her elbow, she nearly jumped out of her skin. “Oh! Sorry, I—”

“Table’s this way.” He said with no emotion in his voice. This still isn’t good. Maybe we should leave.

“We can go, if you want. Head back to the Carline Canopy or maybe sit by the river in Bentbranch or…”

He said nothing, let go of her elbow, and walked to the table in the corner. Agnes followed silently and sat down opposite him, staring at her water.

“Love, I—”

Estinien raised the bottle to his lips and took a large swig. After a moment, he said, “He was flirting with you, Agi. And so were many other men tonight who talked to you.”

Wait…what? Agnes blinked in shock. “I didn’t know until he put his hand on waist. I thought he was just being friendly! Wait, were all of them flirting?”

He groaned and massaged his temples. “You are so smart yet so blind to everything around you sometimes. Of course they were flirting! Have I not said that you’re a gorgeous woman?!”

The blush became redder. “I thought that was just your dick talking!”

Estinien make a noise of disgust and took another swig from the bottle. “You are…fucking something else, Agi, I swear to the Fury. Alright, some of the time it is, but most of the time it’s me saying you’re beautiful and I love you. But that’s besides the point---the point is all these men have been flirting with you, throwing themselves at you all night, and I’ve been over here stewing in my own bloody…” He took another swig.

Is he…wait, is he jealous?! No. No. He can’t be. He knows that I wouldn’t, right? She cautiously reached for one of his hands. “Love, you know I’d never leave you for anyone else, right?”

He enveloped his large, scarred hands over hers. “I do. Truly. I just…you said this was to be about you and I having a good time, and no one’s left you alone since we got here. Been in this corner drinking by myself.”

Agnes looked and felt completely dejected. “Oh.” Alright, I’ve cocked this up completely. But I can make it up to him! Hmmmm, where to go where we’ll be left alone…OH!!!! “I have an idea!”

Estinien raised an eyebrow and took another swig. “Oh?”

“Yes! We’ll have to go to the East Shroud, but I swear it isn’t too far away. It’s a lovely spot, and we can be alone. No more people flirting with me. I promise. I’ll make this ri—”

He sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. “Agi, you needn’t do anything. We can stay here.”

“But I want to! And I swear you’ll like it. Please?” Don’t make me beg. I am not above begging when it comes to ensuring your happiness. Anything to have you smile. Anything. Everything. I’ll run stark bloody naked through The Pillars if you’d smile.

Agnes then resorted to drastic measures.

She pouted.

Estinien let out a frustrated noise and massaged his temples again. “Fine, fine we’ll go to this spot of yours.”

Yes!!! I knew it! Agnes nearly leapt up from her chair and began gathering her things. “You won’t regret it, I promise! I’ll even buy you an extra bottle of ale to take with us!” She hurried to the bar and paid the tab.

“Agi, really. You—”

She returned quickly, smiled, grabbed his hand, and dragged him out of the pub. “It’ll be wonderful! It’s a very romantic spot.”

They teleported to East Shroud, where Agnes took Estinien’s hand once more and dragged him through the Bramble Patch. “Agi, really, we can—”

“It’s not much farther, love! And I have some cakes for us in my bag. It’ll be so nice!” Just a bit farther. And then he’ll see! He will! It’ll be much better than the pub. Sorry Buscarron. Agnes stopped them as they arrived at their destination.

Estinien’s mouth hung open in shock. “What is this place?”

“The Sanctum of the Twelve. It was only rediscovered after the Calamity. Scholars are still studying it, but mainly it’s used as a wedding venue. At night though, as you can see, it’s quite a romantic spot. Come on, let’s sit on the stairs by the water.” Agnes went ahead and sat on one of the lower stairs and glanced at the water. “Love?”

He blinked and quickly ran down the stairs to meet her. “Forgive me. I…this place is lovely.”

Told you! She grinned and removed the bottle of ale and the cakes out of her bag, handing the ale and a cake to Estinien. “Yes, it is. When I have the time, I like to come here, even during the day, and just…think. Or sometimes not think at all. It’s a pleasant spot to just…be, you know? Sometimes I’d daydream as I watched wedding parties over here.” She giggled and gave him a mischievous smile. “Sometimes I’d even let loose some little magic fireworks after weddings, when everyone is outside chatting and hide. How I loved hearing the ‘ooohs’ and ‘aaaahs’ and everyone so happy!” She took a bite of her cake. And how I’d think it would never happen to me. And now…we have each other. And maybe…someday…it’ll be us.

Estinien smiled warmly and wrapped an arm around her broad shoulders. “Why am I not surprised you did that? My sweet Agi.” He placed a kiss on her head. “I would ask for your forgiveness for my behavior earlier. Twas wrong of me to act like such a brute.”

Agnes’s eyes widened. Did he just…? HE DID?! “Love, I was in the wrong too. I should’ve just said ‘no’ to everyone wanting to speak to me. This is our night, and I—” She felt another kiss pressed to hear dark red hair.

“You did nothing wrong. And we are together now, no? Together and partaking in such a view, though,” he squeezed her upper arm. “The view is naught compared to my lady.”

She wrinkled her nose and giggled. “When my love become a poet? I knew of his skill with a lance but ah, such words!” Oh gods, keep talking like this, Estinien. I am loving it!

He chuckled. “The poetry happens with so many ales, my angel.” With his free hand, Estinien held the rest of his little cake and contemplated it. “A sweet for my sweet. Open up.” Dutifully, Agnes opened her mouth. He placed piece of cake in her mouth, and as she closed, his long, calloused fingers danced on her lips. “Good girl.” He murmured. His thumb parted her lips ever so slightly.

I’m going to fucking die right here. Burst into sexual tension flames. Poof! There I go! “’Stinien…”

“Hmmmm, mayhap we should return to the inn, sweetheart…and use one of your sound-damping enchantments…” Estinien smiled dreamily and lightly brushed his lips against hers.

I am dead. I am deceased. Agnes swallowed and sighed. “Ah, yes, of course…let’s head back.”

Unfortunately for Agnes, Estinien fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

[sarenhale]

You wanted to see pictures of my special girl Deidre here she is

She's 5'4 and I've found two NPCs pre EW with her exact face and coloring combination . (Sky watcher infront of the immortal flames and someone sitting at a table at the bar in the crystarium) she's a solo white mage up until her Big Crisis at the vault where she disappears for four days and no one knows where she is (except Emmanellain who has connected the dots to her picking up dark knight and is NOT SAYING ANYTHING because She's the baby sibling of the house now and he's trying very hard to figure out how to be the older brother and older brothers keep things secret when they know it'll get each other in trouble right? Yeah? Right? Totally comparable to the vase incident when he was a kid-)

How did she manage to be a solo white mage up until halfway through HW? She watched her dad train other village kids to be lancers (mountain village above Silvertear Lake where the wood meets mor Dhona, VERY close to imperial occupation) and improvised close combat with her staff. Which Estinien witnesses while they're both coincidentally visiting Haurchefant during 2.1 (Haurchefant handled the Dragoon quest misshaps) and is just. Baffled. By the combination of actual technical parries and.... Hitting Voidsent like she's swinging a baseball bat. (Also the Eye responds to her but he's ignoring that because she's EIGHTEEN and already struggling with the one title she has and Haurchefant would Kill Him) So Estinien.... Doesn't teach her lancer.... But he does coach her in actual quarterstaff drills. And she does just happen to figure out how to use Aero to jump and earth to make a blade on her staff. New older brother gained.

Also. I haven't written the echo quite on your level with the building But. She is way more like Zenos than any of the scions really want to think about. She actually thought Hydaelyn was resurrecting her whenever she died because she wasn't done with her yet until Zenos ended up back in his own body (Her weird friendship with zenos in shadowbringers is a whole nother essay) but turns out!!! She just repossesses her corpse once her ambient aether makes it healed enough to live in again :). The Scions, save for Alphinaud (who finds out along with the rest of the Fortemps household and tataru when they have an argument after she finally returns to the manor post-vault), and Arenvald (who did the arr patch summonings with her and watched her stand in a bolt of lightning to save his ass and then die and then not be dead), only find out that Actually She Dies Kind Of A Lot when Esteem goes on a fucking RANT at them after the first encounter with Zenos because she's under Living Dead and trying to get medical attention but they think she's an Ascian. (Haurchefant knew the whole time. Haurchefant knew the moment she broke down crying when he asked how her battle with Garuda went. She had never died before that and no one else had asked, not since Thancred's panic after Ifrit)

Deidre is my CW Winchester and some day she Will kill me for it <3

OOOOH Miss Deidre is really gorgeous, and I love her story as well! The fact that she learned how to fight with her staff while being a white mage is genius actually, reminds me a bit of some monk moves that specialize on parrying and disabling their adversary, it's a really smart way to handle fights and I can see how it would work well for a white mage! I love your interpretation of her Echo too, it's always fun to hear other people's thought about the echo and Hydaelyn's blessings and how that affects their Wol. Of course how I could I not enjoy some good ol Zenos reflection! Thank you for telling me more about her ❤

[ffxiv-ariavitali]

I know this is probably OOC for WOL... Can I have hcs of Aymeric, Estinien, Hien and Haurchefant's reaction when their gender neutral S/O WOL being caught as captive/hostage either by imperial, bandits, etc?

/legasp

The angst! My specialty! Thank you for the ask! :D

❅ ❅ ❅

[Aymeric]

The lord commander has never been seen to be as furious as he is at this moment. His rage is quiet; rather than screaming bloody murder to the heavens, it is a cesspool of vengeance broiling behind an attempted mask of political stoicism. Everyone knows that, in spite of the political undertones your capture has and the way he argues under this perspective, there are more parts personal regarding the reason why he wishes so desperately to save you.

However, his anger is not only his own, but belonging to the rest of Ishgard, for no one has forgotten the kindness, selflessness and bravery shown by the Warrior of Light in freeing them from a war that has last nigh over a millennium.

Knowing that he has a way with words, Aymeric uses it to his advantage. Rallying the people within his nation is an easy cause and the fact that you had befriended every High House along the way worked in his favor. Mark his words, he will ensure that you are returned home and Fury have mercy on the souls that decide to hurt you. He will be at the vanguard to make sure of it.

[Estinien]

The Azure Dragoon’s rage, compared to Aymeric’s, is an inferno that cannot be silenced. Even if he is not shouting aloud, the licks of aether bursting from him in waves is enough to bring the weak of heart to their knees if they aren’t careful. While this is to be expected, traces of Nidhogg’s rage left within him after his possession, it’s still rather surprising that the man would be so passionate (for lack of a less crude word) for anything besides his life’s work.

Estinien is impatient. While he respects Aymeric enough to approach him for details of plans to rescue you, he is wont to infiltrate the base of whomever it was that was foolish enough to think they could capture you. He is used to it; after all, it was he that had shut down the canon after Operation Rhalgr’s Beacon and it was he that had infiltrated the Garlean Empire and traveled with the Black Wolf for a time when you were out of commission.

If he finds that you are injured upon his extraction of you, he will say nothing. His actions will be more than enough. After all, his armor was once coated in crimson.

Who’s to say he isn’t willing to have it happen again?

[Haurchefant]

It took half a dozen knights to barely subdue the lord when you had gone to confront Shiva without a word. Back then, he was feeling the strongest of emotions and the situation at this moment does nothing to help him break out of such a habit. In fact, it brought back memories of when Francel de Haillenarte had been taken captive. The fury and fear, the worry and promises of revenge—they’ve all returned albeit them exacerbated tenfold.

As a result, nothing will stop the lord from storming the front where you’re being held captive. Everyone knows this and if it wasn’t for his father rationalizing with him that jumping into the fray without a plan could potentially cause more harm to you than help, they were sure the presiding lord of Camp Dragonhead would have gathered a contingent to begin a forward march towards you.

When he finds you, he will ensure that he tries to keep a smile on his face. One of reassurance because he knows not of how you may feel. However, before that could happen, he will take the rage out on the foolish souls barring the path. Halone, have mercy if he were to find you injured.

[Hien]

Hearing the news from Yugiri was like knives cutting into his heart and he knew what he must have been feeling was the wrath of the kami themselves. For what other reason would there be for fools to attempt something such as capturing you other than jest?

The lord of Doma’s anger is silent, hidden by a placid smile that could cut through the hardest boulders with a simple turn of his head. Hien swears to rescue the Warrior of Light easily, occasionally making jests that, should they rescue you successfully, they would have a good reason to keep your company for a sennight (at least) in the Enclave; one part to ensure your good health and one part in celebration for their victory.

The truth isn’t so simple, the mask the lord wears trying desperately to suppress the intensity of the anger swelling in his chest. Trying desperately to remind him of his pledge to the sword, the samurai’s code and the teachings donned to him by his father and Gosetsu both.

When he thinks about it a little harder, Hien scoffs at the thought. Your captors only have a token force. He will bring the entire nation in response.

[vengeancethynameis]

Why are you barring my way Ser? this is how you get me to walk away and never come back but im sure you’d not object. you’ve been giving me the side eye every chance you get. what exactly is your deal?

“I said what is your business here heretic?” he kept wagging that accusing finger at me with a glare. like you dont already know, im supposed to be helping you against dragons. that’s what the little brat wants us to do. return the favor for your city’s hospitality. 

“Well now im turning around and leaving. i played along with this charity that little brat was dishing out and now im sick of it. best keep that toy of yours in check. you’re messing with things you dont fully understand.” i turned and started to carefully walk across the icy ground when i heard him yell for me to stop. “Why should I? if im really as heretical as you claim isnt this what you want? me leaving? never darkening your gates again?” have i done any business to be seen as a heretic in their eyes? not as far as im concerned but he probably thinks i have by carrying this weapon. a weak stake to claim but the name Nidhogg carries much weight within those walls. 

“You deaf? i said stop damn you!” he landed in front of me, quite an impressive jump i’ll give him that. “ what’s your business with Nidhogg? i hear you speak of him in almost familiar terms. i need to know your intentions.” crossing my arms i gave him a glare back not sure where he comes up with this stuff. sure i’ve mentioned him and how i feel kindred in vengeance to him but im not gonna go join up with him. that’d take me giving two shits about Ishgard and it’s affairs or even about dragons. which i dont about either. “Your silence does more to answer then your words. as do your eyes. so tell me about this affinity.” he had his lance in hand and i doubt not his prowess or speed in cutting me down. 

“There’s no point convincing a man deaf to alternatives when he’s already made up his mind. so go ahead. Kill me. Do your nation proud by stopping heretics. if you’re so convinced my blood on your hands wont haunt you you’d have done it by now.” i hear someone calling my name in the distance, behind me further into the city but getting closer with each call. “They’ll surely take your word over mine. so what are you waiting for? i did in fact say i feel a small sort of affinity for the beast, but only in that we’re both motivated by our need for vengeance. although mine is not all consuming to where i’m robbed of reason like his......or yours. save your energy for the real villains here. like the one running your city.” the person calling me ran up on us and immediately tried to get Estinien to go back inside the city, he’d deal with me. much coercing later he finally grumbled something then sulked back through the Gates leaving us alone. “Are you the one whos come to decide my fate? you seem to have forgotten your sword for that.” he looked at me with such sadness in his eyes then shook his head. 

“Why would i do that? you and yours have done such good for our House.” i dont like his gaze, with pity in his eyes. im leaving. i brushed past him and once again tried to leave this place when he ran up behind me, grabbing my arm to pull me back. just that action, grabbing me, get me so on edge. too many bad memories and experience of being grabbed swirled in my head as i jerked my arm from his grasp. and then on autopilot i shoved the barrel of my shotgun in his face. it’s such a natural reaction now, to point a weapon at someone to make myself feel safer. i see the Gate guards draw their swords and run towards us but Haurchefant put his arm out telling them to stop. maybe on the count of the shotgun visibly shaking in my hand, or the fear in my expression i’ve been tryna get better at masking. 

“Easy Njld, i’m sorry for grabbing you. it was a reflex. I came out to see why you hadn’t returned with the others. let’s just talk ok? As you pointed out im without a weapon, i just came to talk.” he turned his head and tried to shoo the guards back to their positions but with my gun still leveled at his head they werent going anywhere. this standoff went on for like an hour with Haurchefant talking to me while staring down my barrel. when the adrenaline faded with no further threatening action from anyone, i lowered the gun and he asked me why Estinien had held me up. so i told him a few nidhogg comments and he called me a heretic. 

“He was just tryna protect your city from threats i get that. i told him to kill me if he was so convinced but he wouldn’t. then you came.” he nods then took a seat on the snow and continued talking.  eventually i sat as well, the snow crunching under my weight. i could feel it’s chill seep through my thin fabrics. i think this is the longest conversation ive had with someone who isnt G’raha or Urianger. so long in fact i was wholly unaware we talked through the afternoon and straight into the next morning. Haurchefant never grew tired of listening to me talk, or talking himself. the guards have stopped eying me up which takes care of the lingering unease. it’s times like this i remember how accustomed i am to tropical weather and not tundras. “We can finish this lovely conversation another time, i do believe any longer out here and you’ll fall ill. let’s get you inside and to the inn.” he stood and offered me a hand so i took it.  

like he said he took me to the Forgotten Knight and saw me to a room before bidding me farewell. What a gentleman.

[styrnraelmalqir]

The Last Vigil

[ MAJOR SPOILERS FOR FFXIV 3.0 AND 3.1 AHEAD. ]

I just have a lot of feelings and needed to put them into words. Spoilers begin right away so please be warned, thank you! 

“He would not have told you,” the Count turned to his steward, trading his cane for the broken shield of his son, “but when Haurchefant begged me to accept you into our household, he described you as ‘hope incarnate.’”

The room was hushed at the sight of Count Edmont de Fortemps touching the failed steel before him. He studied it for a moment before turning back to Styrnrael. “At the time, I assumed that he was waxing lyrical, as he was wont, but I have come to see that he simply spoke the truth.”

A breath escaped the steward’s lips as he looked upon his lord. Of the many secrets the steward had kept in half a century of service, moments such as these still came as a surprise. His focus moved to the warriors who stood in the foyer of the Manor. The steward’s vision narrowed on Styrnrael behind the thick bifocals resting on his nose. A tear threatened his composure. The warmth she and her friends brought to Ishgard was enough to fog his glasses. He batted away the tear. Before he could remove a handkerchief from his pocket to clean his lenses, Edmont surprised him yet again.

The Count stepped toward the free paladin whom his son had trusted most ardently. His gaze was still fixed on the shield in his hands, eyes low beneath his eyelashes. Of all the passing times she visited Fortemps Manor, sometimes for only a few hours of rest, not once had Edmont warmly addressed her as such.

His gaze slowly lifted to meet her own. “You are hope.” He spoke softly as if just for her to hear. His deep blue irises held an ocean’s depth. For a moment in the fading light of sunset that pierced through the windows, she saw Haurchefant in his eyes. She dared not to blink.

He cleared his throat, regaining the equanimity required for that of the head of House Fortemps. “You are hope,” he repeated with purpose, “a shining beacon that shall guide the people of Ishgard through this raging snowstorm.” With that, he lifted a heel and bowed before her, presenting the shield with both hands. She reached toward the Count to receive his gift. Her hands traced its rough edges. It was not sharp enough to nick her calloused hand, try as she might. The dazzling color of the setting sun filled the crevices of the shield’s damage with light.

“A memento,” the Count began again, looking directly at Styrnrael now. “Were my son here…” Styrnrael was entranced and the all too familiar ringing in her head made her stagger away from the present. The Echo, a gift of her mind to see memories as they were lived, could also be a curse. Suddenly her vision was every color at once and yet nothing at all. The rigid décor of the room, the flowers in the vase, the Count, the steward, and Seishin, all disappeared around her. The emptiness engulfed her in a pyre of dancing colors. Memories that were not her own flooded her reality. The Echo within her wove unrelated images together into a coherent form. The steps of a familiar quarter of Ishgard appeared, illuminated by servants lighting the gas lamps that lined the mithril-colored stone pathways of the Pillars. She stepped into the past.

--

All too familiarly, the past becomes present for just a moment.

A boy not yet ten is outside on a cold day, playing with a stick and a book. “En garde!” he shouts, defending a small toy from a would-be intruder. “That’s enough for today,” A man approaches. He is not yet forty-one. He does not make eye contact with the child. “You can return to the Manor now that mother’s guests are gone.”

The boy laughs and gathers his effects. Giving himself a running start, he jumps and grabs the Count’s hand. “And please, be reasonable Haurchefant. Leave the sticks outside this time, won’t you?”

The gaslights on the perimeter of the street begin to flicker as father and son return to the Manor. The fire within the lamps turns to smoke and color fades around her as Styrnrael steps into another vision.

Now at nearly thirty himself, the teal haired youth has grown into a thoughtful adviser, studying the charts on his desk in his quarters at Camp Dragonhead. Atop the strewn maps and coordinates of the warfront is an envelope. It was nearly torn to shreds in excitement. “What is it, my lord?” Corentiaux clamors to know what message would be so important that it drew Haurchefant’s attention so abruptly this early in the morning.

“A missive, from the Scions of course! I have been awaiting news of their decision to hear our case! We must needs their assistance posthaste to ensure Francel’s record is expunged! I know he is innocent, we just need to prove it to the Inquisitor.” His eyes dart over the words of the letter, comprehending quickly the limited envoy they approved to aid his needs. His hope never faulters for a moment no matter how slim the chances might be. “By the Fury! They have accepted our call for aid and by some fortune are sending the primal slayers themselves!”

Corentiaux is unconvinced, knowing how idealistic his lord is wont to be. “Are you sure that this will be enough to aid us?”

“Hope. That is always enough.” He nods to his squires and begins planning the reception to welcome the Scions who would answer his plea. He shuffles the papers on his desk like an Astrologian’s cards. The wind of the fanned-out pages sweeps Styrnrael to another time.

Even at midday, there is mist covering the Sea of Clouds. Scatterlings of Rose Knight scouts line the area, some swiftly rising to attention as the noble approaches, and some others ignoring him entirely. The indifference they show is quickly parted when Laniette approaches, flanked by wounded soldiers and a trembling Honoroit. “Lord Haurchefant,” the Lady begins. “Your dutiful brother has taken the growing tensions with the Vanu Vanu into his own hands to prove himself. Might you and Master Garlond have a moment to spare for one of your trademark deus ex machinas?” She smiles through gritted teeth, cursing Emmanellain for causing so much trouble, then cursing herself for entrusting him with the task.

“I thought you would never ask! Last time I so much as suggested involving myself in the dealings of the Warriors of Light, twelve men had to restrain me!” Haurchefant resigns to a smile, sparing his company the details of his favorite story to recount. He knows Laniette’s duties here in Cloudtop are much like corralling gaelicats. “You can count on me, my lady!” He nods and gently shakes his fist. Then, turning his sunlit disposition to Cid, the two of them board the airship docked at the side of the camp. Lifting into the air, they cast off the airship landing, and fly through the heavens upon the Enterprise. The clouds mingle with the exhaust of the airship’s engine, flowing through the lush lands of the camp. Styrnrael’s vision becomes clouded, too, as she flies to another image.

“I’m certain there is a joke about a monk and a House Fortemps Knight walking into a bar,” Gibrillont chuckles.

Seishin and Haurchefant laugh heartily and take their seats on weathered stools.

“What will it be, boys? For what you did tonight to provide aid and succor to the Brume folk after today’s eventful showdown, when you could be at home nursing your own wounds, I’d say this’ll be on the house. Though tis a right shame you didn’t bring along that Lady Iceheart I saw shouting about peace earlier!”

Haurchefant almost begins to order but pauses as he sees his friend still considering the vast menu. Gibrillont notices a certain paladin missing from the party. “Say, where is Styrnrael? Do you think she would fancy some mead? I will get some from the storehouse while you two make up your minds about your drinks! I’ll put in an order for trout and chips while I pass by the kitchen and be back in two bells.” Gibrillont swaggers away, leaving the monk and the knight with some privacy. Though it is only thirty past eight, nearly all the tavern’s regulars have staggered home.

“How about some hot chocolate, for old time’s sake?” His words comfort the monk who is tapping one foot against the floor. He steals a glance at Seishin while he is looking at the menu and his cheeks warm at the thought of his return. His mind wanders, “Though I was never much of a religious man before, tis Halone’s blessing you have returned to me unharmed.”

Seishin glances up at Haurchefant coyly, flexing his hand to highlight the bruises on his knuckles. A monk is ever ready to show off his battle scars.  

Haurchefant grins incredulously, still convinced his companions are invincible. That he may count Lady Iceheart among his newfound allies; that is an entirely new kind of faith. “Though I will measure it took much more than the Fury to accomplish this feat. Ysayle, is it? She may prove to bring hope to her people yet. In some way, she reminds me of our dear Styrnrael. I recall how terrified she once was to be seen in the streets of Ishgard. No matter how many times I tried to console her that my countrymen would not look upon her in disgust, I’m not sure she fully accepted that until today.”

Gibrillont returns with their drinks and supper before Seishin can respond.

“Thank you for bringing us here, Haurchefant.” He extends his hand and the heavy glass mugs clank together. “Thank you for taking us in. Styrnrael, the Scions, and I would be beside ourselves without you.”

“My family and I were happy to do so! Though truth be told, I was not sure how Artoirel would feel.” Haurchefant, ever a hospitable host, waits for his comrade to begin eating before he takes his first bite of the warm meals before them.

Seishin lets out a hearty laugh, knowing full well what he meant. “I understand completely. My older brother is also overzealous in his endeavor to protect his family.”

“I see even Ishgard’s more beloved sons have taken you in. It was truly a pleasant surprise to see you and Estinien fighting side by side.” They continue to praise each other, delighting in the company and the well-deserved respite.

“I always knew you would be Ishgard’s saviors!” His glorious shout can be heard across the entirety of the Forgotten Knight’s dining room.

Nearby, a machinist and her men glance up from their table at the commotion. She rolls her eyes at the idiots and smirks fiendishly at her comrades. The room is full of joy – for peace is on the horizon.

Their happy exchanges muddle with the commotion of the tavernkeeper moving chairs and sweeping debris. Styrnrael can hear them talking, but they are both too far away to hear. Some memories even the Echo cannot access. Styrnrael notices another Xaela. He glances downward at the child beside him, unamused with the ruckus. He leaves as quietly as he came. Before she can follow him, Styrnrael can hear Haurchefant and Seishin speaking again.  

“Twelve have mercy! Have you told her yet?” Haurchefant inquires, ears perking up at the thought of his friends’ happiness. “I should be glad to see what she says in response. When you linger too long away, I worry what the world asks of you, how you are ever saving the world from the latest calamity.” He rests a hand on Seishin’s. “You are both so precious to me,” His confession stings like a needle to her heart, ever bleeding as she hovers in the Echo. “Your feelings are safe with me, friend. I will keep them close to my heart for as long as I live.”

She wakes up in the night on a tufted settee finding a blanket that was not there when she fell asleep. Styrnrael sits up in the darkness. She feels safe, seeing Seishin and Haurchefant sitting on the floor beside her, both of them fast asleep.

The nightmares of the future dance in her mind. In her dreams, she is running ahead, trying to catch a phantom. Her armor is lead and her sabatons melt into the ground. Her heavy legs will not move. The piercing sound hits her like a drum. The crack of the shield and the splinters flying. The glare of the spear.

“I could not bear to…” His words are the ringing in her ears. She blinks away the sight of his head in her lap. He reaches for her. In the dark, she silently repeats his words.  

She looks away as the Echo tries to show her the light fading again in the dusk of The Vault. She looks away and sees Seishin. He is lost for words. She cannot turn away now, the image is burned in her mind. She steps into the memory and lets the Echo consume her at last.

--

The vision was gone. The present pulled her back. All the colors joined together until there were none. Seishin gently touched her shoulder as she awakened. The Count’s eyes were still fixed on his son’s sources of hope.

“Are you quite alright, Mistress Malqir?” Count Edmont’s voice carried genuine worry. Styrnrael’s emptiness was not the reception he was hoping for, though he did expect it, having seen the Echo sweep his friends away at times. “I know that…” His eyes, the same eyes as his son’s, closed. “I know he meant a lot to you.”

Styrnrael nodded. The embarrassment of riches this shield was, and the memories that were held within it, felt almost too much to the Xaela. No one in the room would have guessed that not weeks ago, she was wont to hide her face beneath a cowl lest she be rejected. For in the light of day, when the snow settled, she at last felt welcomed, as was her hope.

“Were my son here, he would have wished to fight at your side in the battles to come.” His eyebrows knitted together while a somber grin wrinkled his cheeks. “Take care, my friend, and return to us!”

Seishin and Styrnrael smiled, to the Count, and then to each other.

[blackestnight]

24: two solarians, a mystic, a mechanic, and an operative walk into a bar

Prompt: Beam

Word count: 613

...except they don’t, because it’s not a bar, and also because walking is for boring people. Set in my self-indulgent TTRPG-based space opera au.

Thancred considered the wall before him—more of a cliff face, really; sheer and slick as glass and black as the void of space, cut and smoothed from some sort of rock. Non-metallic, so his electromagnet gloves didn’t do a damn thing to help him, and too hard for his knives to wedge in to serve as makeshift handholds (he’d tried). Certainly too high for him to jump, even with the jets strapped to his boots. There was a railing at the top that looked promising, if only he were thrice his height to have a hope of reaching it.

At his side, Estinien grunted. “I thought this place was supposed to be impenetrable,” he said, his sour rumble betraying his thoughts on the matter. “This is child’s play.”

Ysayle hummed at Thancred’s other elbow, lowering her hand from her elegant splay of fingers and opening her eyes slowly as the glow of magic faded from her skin. “I sense no living guards,” she said, sounding equally disappointed, “nor could I detect any magical wards. I’m sure there are technological traps atop the wall, though. Would you be so kind?”

“Aye, I think I can handle that.” Hilda whistled, prompting the drone hovering at her shoulder to flash its lights in response. “Mongrel, get to it. Find me something to hack. Be quiet about it, too, y’hear?”

The drone flickered again, then with a quiet hum of machinery the panels forming its body shimmered and flipped, its cloaking field coming to life. It zipped away up and over the wall, a barely-perceptible smudge even to Thancred’s trained eye; if he hadn’t known where to look, he would never be able to spot it.

“I would think they would have guards inside the facility,” Hanami muttered, restless at Thacred’s back. “At least some kind of sentinel summon.”

“Too easy to bribe,” Thancred offered. In his experience, anyway, no one came out to work on abandoned planets in the arse end of the system because of some higher calling or staunch moral drive.

“Easy to bribe tech, too,” Hilda said, occupied with the monitor strapped to the inside of her gauntlet. “Let me give this bugger a juicy bone to gnaw on...there.” She grinned in satisfaction, all teeth as she blew her hair out of her face. “Electric fence and warding field up top. It’s down. Looped the cameras, if anyone’s alive in there to be watching ‘em.”

“Then let’s go,” Estinien said, and without further ado loped forward and jogged straight up the vertical face of the wall, light shimmering around him in a halo as gravity twisted to his whims. Ysayle brought her hands together, silver light limning her momentarily as she whispered to her palms and vanished with a tiny pop of displaced air, reappearing atop the wall while Estinien crested the rise.

“Show-offs,” Thancred muttered, and turned to Hilda. “Shall you and I wait for them to lower a rope?”

Hanami stepped forward, planting her hand on Hilda’s shoulder. “No, just you,” she said, with a smug flash of fang, and then—a brilliant solar-flare flash, a magnesium flare to Ysayle’s gentle moonbeam, as golden-white light overtook her, enveloping Hanami and Hilda both. The light stretched, lengthened, and then—bright, sharp, silent as laser-cannonfire in a vacuum—shot forward and reformed between Ysayle and Estinien, depositing both women behind the railing.

“Show-off!” Thancred repeated, louder, and Hanami barked a laugh.

Hilda beamed, unhooking a loop of cable from her back and anchoring it to the railing with a neat flick of a clip. “Happy climbing,” she said.

Thancred sighed, coiled the cable around his arm, and cursed damn showy mages the whole way up.

--